Mavis of Green Hill Part 24

"We're climbing," said my husband, "you'll notice the change of air soon, for Guayabal is in a mountain district."

I hardly heard him. I was too busy watching the various family groups as we went through the villages. It was all so incongruous: here, a marvellous house that might have belonged to some foreign Prince--there, huddled at its very gate, a cl.u.s.ter of huts, thatched, and sun-baked; and brown babies all over the landscape, very naked, very dirty and, from a distance at least, wholly enchanting. And then the trees! The tall, royal palms, with the afternoon wind in them!

"Oh-h!" I said, as we pa.s.sed a clump of wonderful scarlet blossoms, "what is it?"

Sarah was exclaiming too, sitting perfectly upright and rigid beside me.

"Hibiscus," answered our companion. "You'll find lots of it where we are going."

The villages went by. A crimson sun was glowing over the palms, and almost before I had seen it, it was gone, and a violet after-glow was coloring distant hilltops. I clasped my hands in my lap and wondered if ever there had been anything as lovely and remote. And it was with a sense of absolute shock that I heard and saw Silas snap on the lights of the car and realized that now the after-glow had gone and that the heavy Southern night had closed in around us.

"Why, there isn't any twilight," I said, in childish disappointment.

"Not here," answered my husband, "Nature strikes suddenly and swiftly in the tropics. She has no halftones, no compromise...."

Even in the dark I could feel his glance at me. I said nothing.

When we entered the village of Guayabal and drove up the winding roadway through the gates and into the drive, the stars were shining.

Very close they seemed, and tremendous--"as big as dinner plates," as Sarah put it to me afterwards, with obvious disapproval. And they were warm, almost fragrant, I fancied, unlike our cold, high, impersonal stars of the North. They frightened me....

The lights shone out from a low, long house as the car stopped under a portico. Two smiling Chinese hous.e.m.e.n were standing, ready to take our bags, and my heart sank as I thought of what Sarah--who contributes so religiously to foreign missions--must be thinking. It was with relief, therefore, that I saw the unmistakable Hibernian face of the cook at the door. The domestic staff consisted then, of Wing and Fong and Norah; and I blessed the Reynolds, that, in a.s.sembling their household Lares and Penates, they had included something white and clean and very cordial to preside over the kitchen, for I feared for Sarah's peace of mind....

Peter, tired and perhaps somewhat frightened by the strangeness and by the yellow hands raised to lift him down from the car, whimpered a little, and my husband, jumping out, took the child in his arms and turned to me,

"Welcome," he said, with a certain dignity, "to the Palms."

It was the loveliest house. Even Sarah was moved to favorable comment, and Wiggles went quite mad. We entered through a screened, tile-floored verandah, lamp-lighted, and bright with wicker-ware, to an enormous room. The walls were panelled in dark wood, the floor red-tiled, the ceiling raftered, and it was wide and high and long beyond my wildest dreams of any room. There were tables and books and myriad comfortable chairs all about, and at the far end, a huge fireplace, wherein a little red fire burned comfortably. For as the night came, so came the sudden amazing chill after the day's heat, and I found the warmth and sight of the fire very gratifying. The room was living and dining room in one, Norah explained to me, and showed me hard by the pantry door, the table laid for two. And after my first curiosity had subsided, she took me to my room.

It was many-windowed, and all the windows were barred. Three red steps led up to the alcove where a great bed was set, under an age-old crucifix. And it was gay with chintz and dimities, while against my windows a bourginvilla vine whispered in the wind.

Peter and Sarah were next door, with a bath between, and across the way, my stranger-husband had his own room and bath, as big and odd and delightful as mine. I could hardly sit down or let Sarah brush my hair or even wash the dust of the journey from me for excitement.

Peter, soon undressed and sitting up in bed with a big bowl of bread and milk, was trying heroically to keep his eyes open. I heard his prayer, answered half a thousand questions as best I could, left him sleeping quietly, and went in search of my--host.

I found him, in a dinner jacket, at the piano, playing something very softly, and with his eyes half-closed. When he heard my step on the tiles, he jumped up.

"I didn't know you played," I said politely, glad that Sarah had persuaded me to change, and conscious of how very becoming the new mauve voile must be.

"I have a number of accomplishments," he answered irritatingly.

I stood for a moment, by the fireplace, the mantel high above my head.

"This is a wonderful house," I said, trying to make conversation.

"Tell me something about it."

Dr. Denton drew two big chairs close to the fire and for half an hour told me of his friend, Harry Reynolds, and his delicate little wife, of how they had come to Cuba and built this place of dreams and sent for Silas from Vermont to come and take care of it.

"It is only about a hundred acres," said my companion, "mostly in sugar cane. But Reynolds has plenty of money and they were very happy here. When the youngest boy died of fever, Mrs. Reynolds couldn't stand it any longer. The place had too many a.s.sociations. So they left, last summer, keeping the servants on, for Harry had to make several flying trips back and forth. And he was glad to let us have the house for a time, until he decided what to do with it. His wife swears she will never come here again: and yet, they are reluctant to sell it. I have spent a number of happy holidays here and so ... well, it was all most opportune and providential ... and I am convinced that the climate will be admirable for you."

He was speaking in his professional tone, and I, nervous and ill-at-ease, was glad to talk of my returning health and of other prosaic matters.

"When you are rested," he said, "in a day or two, we must go into Havana--you will want an account opened there at one of the banks."

That reminded me of something that had been troubling me.

"But it is not my money," I began rather abruptly, and stopped.

"It is," he a.s.sured me, "Your father has been very generous with you and you need feel under no obligations to me--unless you object to having me play the host a little until--later."

I didn't know what to answer, and blessed Fong's sleek black head, as slippered and silent, he slid in to announce dinner.

Norah had outdone herself for the "new Missis." And it was pleasant in the softly lighted room, with the candles burning on the table, shining across delicate old china and worn silver.

My husband exerted himself to be amusing. Our talk was all give and take, and there were even laughter awaking echoes in the room.

Dinner over, after I had made a face over the strong Cuban, and Bill--it was still so difficult to call him that--had sent out word to Norah that hereafter we would drink the sort of beverage I had been accustomed to, he went to the piano again, and with a little snub-nosed pipe between his teeth, sang ridiculous Bab ballads and played enchanting s.n.a.t.c.hes of melody while, with Wiggles on my lap, I dreamed before the fire.

Father would have loved it.... I missed him terribly.

The music stopped.

"Mavis...." he was beside me, something in his hand. I turned, startled.

"I didn't give you a wedding present," he said, half-smiling, "but before we left I had just time to have this made for you."

I took the small, black leather case from his hand and opened it. My father's face looked back at me, wonderfully living. Almost it seemed as if the gentle, strong mouth would smile and speak.

"I had it painted before--before the tide turned," said Bill, "from the picture he gave me."

I closed my hands upon the miniature and my eyes against the tears.

"You are very good," I said falteringly. "I--you couldn't have given me anything I could have cared for more."

He stood, his broad shoulders squared against the mantel, and looked at me gravely.

"I hope," he said and stopped. Then, very evenly, he went on, "I hope you will try to be happy here, Mavis."

Happy! A sudden revulsion of feeling came over me. What use had I for happiness? I had been almost stupefied, like an animal in the sun, dreaming vaguely before the fire. But now....

"I will try to be--content," I told him.

His eyes hardened, grew keen and cold again.

"Thank you," he said, not quite sincerely.

We were silent a moment, until Silas came in to get the orders for the following day. I hardly heard the voices, talking so near me. It mattered so little what they, or anyone, said. I thought of Green Hill, of Peter asleep near me.... I thought of father, in his big woods, his old strength coming back to him ... and I thought of the letter that had reached me on my wedding day ... my first love letter.

I had not answered it. For me, no "lyric hour" could exist. No, nor not even the dream of one. Uncle John, I thought, would have told Richard Warren by now that I was married. Mrs. William Denton....