Cloudy Jewel Part 34

"Allison--I think maybe you needn't worry----" she said softly. "You know Jane is--REAL! She isn't weak like some people. She won't go all to pieces like--well, like I would. G.o.d means something to her, you know."

"I know!" said Allison gravely, gently. "Thank you, kid! Well. I get off here. Meet me at the top of the second hill in half an hour, and hang around there for a bit. I may whistle, see? So long."

He dashed off between the buildings and disappeared between the trees in the edge of the woods. Leslie whirled off down the drive to the street. As she pa.s.sed the big stone gateway, ivy garlanded and sweet with climbing roses, three seniors turned into the drive, and the foremost of the three was Howard Letchworth. Her heart leaped up with joy that here was someone who would understand and sympathize, and she put her foot to the brake to slow down with a light of welcome in her eyes, but before she could stop he had lifted his hat and pa.s.sed on with the others as if he were just anyone. Of course he had not seen her intention, did not realize that she wanted to speak with him, yet it hurt her. A week or two before she would have called after him, or even backed the car to catch him, but now something froze within her and with her heart beating wildly, and tears scorching her eyes, she put on speed and whirled away up the hill. It seemed to her that all her lovely world was breaking into pieces under her feet. If it had not been that she was worried about Jane, she would have been tempted to abandon everything and rush off in some wild way by herself, anywhere to be alone and face the ache in her heart. It was such a torrent of deep-mingled feelings, hurt pride and anger, humiliation, and pain--all these words rushed through her mind, but there was something else besides, something that ought to have been beautiful and wonderful, and was only shame and pain, and she had not yet come to the point where she was willing to call that something by name. She knew that soon she must face the truth and have it out with herself, and so her cheeks flamed and paled, and the tears scorched and hurt in her eyes and throat, and she tried to put it all away and think about Jane, poor hurt Jane. Jane gone into the woods to have it but with herself. But Jane was strong and Jane trusted in G.o.d. Her G.o.d was strong, too! Jane would come through only the sweeter. But what would become of her--little, fiery, tempestuous Leslie, who always did the wrong thing first and was sorry afterwards, and who forgot G.o.d when she needed Him most? These thoughts flitted like visions through her brain while she put on all speed and tore away up the hill at a much faster rate than she had any business to do. But the road was clear ahead of her and there was some relief in flying along through s.p.a.ce this way. It seemed to clear the mists from her brain, and cool down her throbbing pulses. Yet just when she would think she had control of her thoughts, that stern, distant expression on Howard's face would come between her and the afternoon brightness, and back would roll the trouble with renewed vigor. What a world this was anyway and why did people have to live? Just trouble, trouble, trouble, everywhere! And who would have thought there would come trouble between her and Howard, such good friends as they had been now almost two years--two wonderful years! And again her weary brain would beat over the question, what had been the matter? What made Howard act that way?

Surely nothing she could have done.

CHAPTER XXIX

Meantime Allison was dashing over fallen trees, climbing rocks, and pushing his way between tangled vines and close-grown laurel, up and up through the college woods, and across country in the direction of the quarry, a still, wonderful place like a cathedral, with a deep, dark pool at the bottom of the ma.s.sive stone walls. There were over-arching pines, hemlocks, and oaks for vaulted roof with the fresco of sky and flying cloud between. It was a wonderful place. Once when they had climbed there together and stood for a long time in silence watching the shadows on the deep pool below, looking up to the arching green, and listening to the praisings of a song sparrow up above in some hidden choir, Jane had said that this was a place to come and worship--or to come when one was in trouble! A place where one might meet G.o.d! He had looked down at her sweet face upturned searching for the little thrilling singer, and had thought how sweet and wonderful she was, and how he wanted to tell her so, and would some day, but must not just yet. He hadn't thought much about what she was saying--but now it came back--and he knew that she must have gone here with her trouble.

He need not have worried about the quarry and the deep, dark pool. He kept telling himself all the way up that he need not, but when he reached the top and came in sight of her he knew it. Knew also that he had been _sure_ of it all along.

She was sitting on a great fallen log, quietly, calmly, with her back against an old gnarled branch that rose in a convenient way, and her head was thrown back and up as if she were seeing wonderful visions somewhere among the green, and the blue and white above. It was as if she had reached a higher plane where earthly annoyances do not come, and felt it good to be there. There was almost a smile on her beautiful lips, a strong, sweet, wistful smile. She had not been looking down at the deep, treacherous pool at all. She had been looking _up_ and her strength had come upon her so. For one long instant the young man paused and lifted his hat, watching her in a kind of awe. Her face almost seemed to shine as if she had been talking with G.o.d. He remembered dimly the story of Moses on the Mount talking with G.o.d. He hesitated almost to intrude upon a solitude so fine and wonderful. Then in relief and eagerness he spoke her name:

"Jane!"

She turned and looked at him and her face lit up with joy:

"Oh! It is you! Why--how did you happen----?"

"I came to find you, Jane. Leslie told me everything and I have hunted everywhere. But when you were not at college I somehow knew you would be here. I wanted to find you--and--enfold you, Jane--wrap you around somehow with my love and care if you will let me, so that nothing like that can ever hurt you again. I love you, Jane. I suppose I'm a little previous and all that, being only a kid, as it were, and neither of us out of college yet, but I shan't change, and I'll be hanged if I see why it isn't all right for me to have the right to protect you against such annoyances as this----"

He was beside her on the log now, his face burning eagerly with deep feeling, one arm protectingly behind her, the other hand laid strongly, possessively over the small folded hands in her lap.

"Perhaps I'm taking a whole lot for granted," he said humbly. "Perhaps you don't love me--can't even like me the way I hoped you do. Oh, Jane, speak quick, and tell me! Darling, can you ever love me enough?

You haven't drawn your hands away! Look up and let me read your eyes, please----"

No, she had not drawn her hands away, and she did not shrink from his supporting arm--and she was the kind of girl who would not have allowed such familiarities _unless_--_Ah!_ She had lifted her eyes and there was something blindingly beautiful in them, and tears--great wonderful tears, so sweet and misty that they made him glad with a thrill of beautiful pain! Her lips were trembling. He longed to kiss her, yet knew he must wait until he had her permission----

"Allison! Listen! You are dear--_wonderful_--but you don't know a thing about me!"

"I know all I want to know, and that is a great deal, you darling, you!" And now he did kiss her, and drew her close into his arms and would not let her go even when she struggled gently.

"Allison, listen. _Listen_--please! I must tell you! _Wait----!_"

She put her hands against his breast and pushed herself back away from him where she could look in his face.

"Please, you _must_ let me go and listen to what I have to say!"

"I'll let you go when you tell me yes or no, Jane. Do you, can you love me? I must know that first. Then you shall have your way."

Jane's eyes did not falter. She looked at him, "You promised, you know----!"

"Yes, Allison--I love you--but--_NO!_ You must _not_ kiss me again.

You must let me go, and listen--You promised, you know----!"

Allison's arms dropped away from her, but his eyes held her in a long look of joy.

"All right, darling, go to it"--he said with a joyous sound in his voice--"I can stand anything now, I know. It seems too good to be true and it's enough for me. But hurry! A fellow can't wait forever."

"No, Allison, you must sit back and be serious. It isn't really _happy_, you know--what I have to tell you----!"

Allison became grave at once.

"All right, Jane, only I can't imagine anything terrible enough to stop this happiness of mine unless you're already married--and have been concealing it from us all this time----!"

In spite of herself Jane laughed at that, and Allison breathed more freely now the tenseness was gone out of her voice. His hands went out and grasped hers.

"At least I can do this," he pleaded, and Jane lifted her eyes, now serious again, and smiled tenderly, letting her hands stay in his pa.s.sively.

"Listen, Allison--my father!"

"I know, Jane, dear--I heard it long ago. Your father was a forger!

What do you suppose I care? He probably had some overpowering temptation and yielded, never dreaming but he would be able to make it right. You can't make me believe that any parent of _yours_ was actually bad! And besides, if he was, it wouldn't be _you_----"

"Allison! Listen!" broke in Jane gravely, stopping the torrent of words with which he was attempting to silence her. "It isn't what you think at all. My father _wasn't_ a forger! He was a good man!"

"He wasn't!" exclaimed Allison joyously. "Then what in thunder? Why didn't you tell 'em so, Jane?" He tried to draw her to him, but she still resisted.

"That's just it, Allison, I can't. I _never_ can----"

"Well, then _I_ will! You shan't have a thing like that hanging over you----!"

"But that is just what you _must not do_. And you _can't_ do it, either, if I don't tell you about it, for you wouldn't have a thing to say, nor any way to prove it. And I won't tell you, Allison, ever, unless you will promise----!"

Allison was sobered in an instant.

"Jane, don't you know me well enough to be sure I would not betray any confidence you put in me?"

"I thought so----" said Jane, smiling through her tears.

"Dear!" said Allison in a tone that was a caress, full of longing and sympathy.

Jane sat up bravely and began her story.

"When I was twelve years old my mother died. That left father and me alone, and we became very close comrades indeed. He was a wonderful father!"

Allison's fingers answered with a warm pressure of sympathy and interest.

"He was father and mother both to me. And more and more we grew to confide in one another. I was interested in all his business, and used to amuse myself asking him about things at the office when he came home, the way mother used to do when she was with us. He used to talk over all my school friends and interests and we had beautiful times together. My father had a friend--a man who had grown up with him, lived next door and went to school with him when he was a boy. He was younger than father, and--well, not so serious. Father didn't always approve of what he did and used to urge him to do differently. He lived in the same suburb with us, and his wife had been a friend of mother's. She was a sweet little child-like woman, very pretty, and an invalid. They had one daughter, a girl about my age, and when we were children we used to play together, but as we grew older mother didn't care for us to be together much. She thought--it was better for us not to--and as the years went by we didn't have much to do with one another. Her father was the only one who kept up the acquaintance, and sometimes I used to think he worried my father every time he came to the house. One day when I was about fourteen he came in the afternoon just after I got home from school and said he wanted to see father as soon as he came home. Couldn't I telephone father and ask him to come home at once, that there was someone there wanting to see him on important business? He finally called him up himself and when father got there they went into a room by themselves and talked until late into the night. When at last Mr.--that is--the _man_, went away, father did not go to bed but walked up and down the floor in his study all night long. Toward morning I could not stand it any longer. I knew my father was in trouble. So I went down to him, and when I saw him I was terribly frightened. His face was white and drawn and his eyes burned like coals of fire. He looked at me with a look that I never shall forget. He took me in his arms and lifted up my face, a way he often had when he was in earnest, and he seemed to be looking down into my very soul. 'Little girl,' he said, 'we're in deep trouble. I don't know whether I've done right or not.' There was something in his voice that made me tremble all over, and he saw I was frightened and tried to be calm himself. 'Janie,' he said--he always called me Janie when he was deeply moved--'Janie, it may hit hardest on you, and oh, I meant your life to be so safe and happy!'

"I tried to tell him it didn't matter about me, and for him not to be troubled, but he went on telling about it. It seems the father of this man had once done a great deal for my father when he was in a very trying situation, and father always felt an obligation to look after the son. Indeed, he had promised when the old man was dying that he would be a brother to him no matter what happened. And now the son had been speculating and got deep into debt. He had formed some kind of stock company, something to do with Western land and mines. I never fully understood it all, but there had been a lot of fraudulent dealing, although father only suspected that at the time, but anyway, everything was going to fall through and the man was going to be brought up in disgrace before the world if somebody didn't help him out. And father felt obliged to stand by him. Of course, he did not know how bad it was, because the man had not told him all the truth, but father had taken over the obligations of the whole thing. He thought he might be able to pull the thing out of trouble by putting a good deal of his own money into it, and make it a fair and square proposition for all the stockholders without their ever finding out that everything had been on the verge of going to pieces. You see the man had put it up to father very eloquently that his wife was very ill in the hospital and, if anything should happen to him and he were arrested it could not be kept from her and she would die. It's true she was very critically ill, had just been through a severe operation, and was very frail indeed. Father felt it was up to him to shoulder the whole responsibility, although, of course, he felt that the man richly deserved the law to the full. Nevertheless, because of his promise he stood by him.

"That night the man was killed in an automobile accident soon after leaving our house, and when it developed that the business was built on a rotten foundation, and that father was in partnership--you see the man had been very wily and had his papers all fixed up so that it looked as if father had been a silent partner from the beginning--everything came back on father, and he found there were overwhelming debts that he had not been told about, although he supposed he had sifted the business to the foundation and understood it all before he made the agreement to help him. Perhaps if the man had lived he would have been able to carry his crooked dealings through and save the whole thing, with what help father had given him, and neither father nor the world would ever have found out--I don't know.--But anyway, his dying just then made the whole thing fall in ruins, and right on top of father. But even that we could have stood. We didn't care so much about money. Father was well off, and he found that if he put in everything he could satisfy the creditors, and pay off everything, and he had courage enough to be planning to start all over again. But suddenly it turned out that there had been a check forged for a large amount and it all looked as if father had done it. I can't go into the details now, but we were suddenly face to face with the fact that there was no evidence to prove that he had not been a hypocrite all these years except his own life. We thought for a few days that of course that would put him beyond suspicion--but do you know, the world is very hard. One of father's best friends--one he thought was a friend--came to him and offered to go bail for him for my sake if he would just tell him the whole truth and own up. There was only one way and that was to go to the man's wife and try to get certain papers which father knew were in existence because he had seen them, and which he had supposed were left in his own safe the night the man talked with him, but which could not be found. As the wife had just been brought back from the hospital and was still in a very critical condition, father would not do more than ask if he might go through the house and search. And that woman sent back a very indignant refusal, charging father with having been at the bottom of her husband's failure, and even the cause of his death, and telling him he had pauperized her and her little helpless daughter. And the daughter began treating me as a stranger whenever we chanced to meet----"