Mavis of Green Hill Part 48

"For heaven's sake," said I, extricating myself with some difficulty, "what will people think--door open and everything?"

But it was fully ten minutes before he really went.

I closed my eyes, and with Father's miniature under my pillow, tried to sleep. So happy--so happy! It was hard to lie still and think. So I didn't think. I kissed the ring on my finger, under the bandages, half a dozen times, and slept, at last, drifting from dream into dream.

Life was very wonderful. And the Love that had suffered and strayed was the most perfect, at the last. For all the times I had hurt him, how I would repay my husband, with depth on depth of devotion. I would make it up to him--

Through water and fire....

CHAPTER XXI

The boat pulled slowly away from the docks. Standing at the rail, I could plainly see the brilliant feather on Mercedes' little French hat, nodding in the breeze. A fleck of white was in her hand, now fluttering frantically, now at her eyes. Wright, beside her, was gesticulating like a semaph.o.r.e, and not far away, Silas was straining his keen eyes to catch the last glimpse of his Sarah. Presently the docks faded into a vari-colored blur, and Bill pulled me away from the rail.

"Good-by, Cuba!" I said, waving my hand for the last time, as I turned.

"You're not crying?" he asked, teasingly.

"No," I dried my eyes a little defiantly, "but I have loved it so.

Color and warmth and sunshine," I said, watching the soft pastel shades of the sh.o.r.e line, where Morro Castle stood, dazzling in the light, its stone feet set in blue waters, "and I hated to leave, somehow--"

"We'll go back," said he. "No, don't go below. Sarah will unpack and settle for you. I bribed the steward to give us these chairs. Sit down, darling, and let me tuck you up."

Obediently, I sat, and he sprawled his long length beside me, cupping his pipe in his hands, to shield the match flare from the wind.

"But," I argued, "it won't be like going back to 'The Palms.' I'll hate the nasty people who are going to buy it--do you suppose they'll buy Arthur, too?"

"Do you want him?" asked Bill.

I turned my hand so that the light fell on the big, new diamond on my finger. Bill had bought it in Havana, two days after the fire. It was my engagement ring, he said, and I had gotten up more than once in the last few nights to admire it by candle or moonlight. It was like a drop of dew. I told him that when he gave it to me, and he had added "on a white flower," and had kissed the finger he slipped it on.

"Want Arthur? I think not. He'd be the scandal of Green Hill, and perhaps he'd not thrive away from Guayabal--"

"Shall I buy 'The Palms'?" asked Bill, pushing his cap back from his forehead, so that the sun fell across his face.

"Are you crazy?" I demanded.

"Possibly."

He slipped his hand under the rug across my knees and took mine.

"What do you think?" he asked, gravely.

"I think you are," said I. "Such extravagance! Delusions of grandeur.

But, anyway, I'd rather we built our own house--"

"So would I," said Bill, with satisfaction.

"Couldn't we add to the Green Hill house?" I asked, "an office for you--and more rooms? Do you mind?" I said. "So much of me is in that house. I don't want to forget those years--. And I was born there. My Mother came there as a bride--and I think Father will want us to live there always--unless," I added careful, "you have other plans, Doctor Denton?"

Bill laughed.

"No. When we get home, if your Father is willing, I'll turn you loose with painters and carpenters and decorators--as long as I may always smoke, even in the 'best parlour' and as long as you don't banish me and my bottles to the garage--for we'll have to have a garage, you know, and I've spoken to Silas about that little house in the garden.

There's lots of room."

"Chintz," I said dreamily, "creton,--lots of it--and another fireplace--and oodles of bookshelves. Bill, may I dig in the garden next summer?"

"I shouldn't wonder," he answered cheerfully. "You're really remarkably strong--beyond my wildest hopes. I was amazed to see how soon you recovered from the effects of the fire--"

I looked at the little scars on my hands. They would go, eventually, I knew. Bill had said so. I was a little sorry.

"Were you?" I asked. "But I had a very good doctor, and wonderful medicine--"

He kissed me, to the horror of a pa.s.sing elderly couple.

"Then," said I, straightening my cap, "you'll practise in Green Hill, after all? People will say you'll be burying yourself there--"

"Let 'em," said Bill. "I shall have time, at last, for all the things I want to do. Time, ambition and encouragement. We'll have a laboratory--away from the house, so your little nose won't be offended and turn up even more--"

"It doesn't," said I, one hand to the insulted feature.

"It does. Don't contradict. I love it!--A laboratory," he went on, "and I can work again on that cancer-cure--"

"Oh, Bill," I said, "isn't it wonderful? To think that perhaps you can bring a blessing to all the world, and I may help--a little--"

We were silent for a while--such a comfortable, understanding silence.

"Aunt Mavis," said Peter, appearing suddenly on deck, "Sarah has gone to bed!"

"Is she ill?" I asked, viewing the water, which was like blue gla.s.s.

"Not yet," said Peter gravely, "but she says she's taking no chances!"

"Poor Sarah!" I said, as Bill laughed. "Stay here with your uncle, Peterkins, and I'll go and see if I can do anything for her."

When I returned, I found my young charge and my husband hanging perilously over the rail, watching the antics of the flying-fish.

"Aren't they pretty?" I asked, joining them, "like tiny, colored aeroplanes."

We watched for some time in silence, and then Peter growing sleepy, for we had gotten up very early that morning, Bill tucked him into a rug in a chair, and we left him asleep almost instantly, to walk the deck until luncheon.

"I've got a scheme," said Bill. "Want to hear?"

"Uh-huh!" said I.