The Definite Object Part 53

"Well, Hermy's Hermy, an' she's wrote you two letters to my knowin'--"

"No, only one, Mrs. Trapes."

"Now Hermy ain't the kind o' girl t' write twice to a man unless--"

"But she has only written me one letter, Mrs. Trapes--the one she left with you last week."

"Oh, well--here's the other!" said Mrs. Trapes, laying before him an envelope addressed in the handwriting he had come to know so well.

"Why didn't you give it to me before?" he enquired.

"Her orders, Mr. Geoffrey."

"Orders?"

"Orders!" nodded Mrs. Trapes. "She come in here last night an' give it me after you was gone t' bed. 'Ann dear,' she says, 'don't let him have it till half after ten t' morrer,' she says. An' it's nearly eleven now--so there's y'r letter!"

"But," said Ravenslee, "why on earth--"

"P'raps th' letter'll tell you, Mr. Geoffrey; s'pose you read it while I clear away your breakfast things!"

Hereupon Ravenslee opened the letter and read these words:

My dear,

It would be my joy to trust myself to you utterly, to go with you to the world's end if you would have it so. Only I'm afraid that I am not quite what you would have me. I'm afraid that I might sometimes do things that would remind you that I had been only a scrubwoman. I'm afraid that some day you might regret. Were I to answer you now, I should answer you selfishly--so, please, you must give me time to think, for both our sakes. Love has never come near me before, and now I am a little afraid, for love is not little and tender and babyish, but great and strong and very fierce and masterful--that is why I am afraid of it. So I must go away from you, from the sound of your voice, the touch of your hand--to think it all out. My work will take me to Englewood to-morrow, and I want you to wait for your answer until I come back, for then I shall have decided one way or the other. But in Englewood the memory of your words will be with me still--oh, did you mean all, quite all you said, and did you say quite all you meant to say--did you? Did you? For indeed it has seemed to me that if you really meant all you said you might have said a little more--just a little more. This is a dreadfully long letter and very badly expressed, I know, but I dare not read it through. But what I have written is written from my heart.

Hermione.

P.S. I shall be in Englewood three whole days.

"Will strawberry jam an' angel cake an' a bunch or so o' water cress be enough, Mr. Geoffrey?"

Ravenslee sat staring down at the letter, rubbing his square, fresh-shaven chin as one very much at a loss.

"'Might have said a little more--just a little more,'" he muttered, his gaze focussed upon a certain line.

"Will water cress an' angel cake an' a pot o' strawberry jam soot, Mr.

Geoffrey?"

"Now I wonder what the d.i.c.kens she can mean?" mused Ravenslee.

"She means jest strawberry jam an' angel cake an' water cress, fer tea--fer your visitors," said Mrs. Trapes, with a patient sigh.

"Visitors!" repeated Ravenslee, glancing up. "Why, yes, they'll be here about four o'clock."

"An' will water cress an' angel cake an'--"

"Quite enough! Certainly! Admirable!" exclaimed Ravenslee. "But what beats me," he continued, staring down at the letter again, "is what she can mean by writing this."

"Not knowin' what she's wrote, I can't say."

"Mrs. Trapes, I know you are Hermione's best and staunchest friend, and lately I have ventured to hope you are mine too. As such, I want you to read this letter--see if you can explain it!"

So Mrs. Trapes took the letter; and when she had read it through, folded it together with hands very gentle and reverent and stood awhile staring out into the sunlit court.

"My land!" she said at last, her harsh voice grown almost soft, "love's a wonderful thing, I reckon. No wonder your eyes shine so. Yes, love's a great an' wonderful thing--my land!"

"But can you explain," said Ravenslee, as he took back the letter, "can you tell me what she means by--"

"Shucks, Mr. Geoffrey! That sure don't want no explainin'. When you said all you did say to her, did y' say anything about 'wife' or 'marriage'?"

"Why, of course I did!"

"Sure?"

"Yes--er--that is--I think so."

"Not sure then?"

"Well, I may have done so--I must have done so, but really I--er--forget--"

"Forget!" Mrs. Trapes snorted. "Now look-a-here, Mr. Geoffrey, what d'

ye want with Hermy; is it a wife you're after or only--"

"Mrs. Trapes!" Ravenslee was upon his feet, and before the sudden glare in his eyes Mrs. Trapes gaped and for once fell silent. "Mrs. Trapes,"

said he, still frowning a little, "really you--you almost--made me angry."

"My land!" said she, "I'm kind o' glad I didn't--quite!" and her sniff was eloquent.

"You see," he went on, glancing down at the letter again, "I've learned to love and reverence her so much that your suggestion--hurt rather!"

"Why, then, Mr. Geoffrey, I'm sorry. But if your love is so big an' true as all that--if you want her t' be a wife t' you--why in the 'tarnal didn't ye speak out an' tell her so?"

"I'll go and tell her so this minute."

"Y' can't! She's gone t' Bronx Park with that b'y, 'n' won't be back all day."

"d.a.m.n!" exclaimed Ravenslee.

"Sure!" nodded Mrs. Trapes. "Keep on, it'll do ye good. But anyway, what y' got t' say'll keep, I guess--it'll gush out all the stronger fer bein' bottled up a day or two."

"I can write!" he suggested.

"You can--but you won't--you'll tell her with your two lips--a woman likes it better spoke--if spoke proper--I should! With arms entwined an'

eyes lookin' into eyes an'--oh, shucks! Will angel cake an' strawberry jam--"

"They'll be ample, and--thank you, dear Mrs. Trapes!"