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"Good-night, Doctor," answered Kathrien, "and--thank you again."
With a wordless grunt, McPherson went out, leaving Peter Grimm staring hopelessly after him.
"I see I can't depend on _you_, Andrew," murmured the Dead Man, "in spite of your psychic lore and your belief in my return. Why is it they can all understand--or _half_ understand--the unimportant things I say, and yet be deaf to my message? It is like picking out the simple words in a foreign book and then not know what the story is about.
Marta--Kathrien--McPherson--they all fail me. I must find some other way."
He turned slowly toward the door of the office. The door almost immediately opened and James Hartmann came into the room. The young man had a pen behind his ear and a half-written memorandum of sales in his hand. He had evidently risen from his work and entered the living-room on an unplanned impulse.
Kathrien had seated herself in a chair by the fire and was gazing drearily into the red embers.
"Look at her, lad!" breathed Peter Grimm. "She is so pretty--so young--so lonely! Look! There are kisses tangled in that gold hair of hers where it curls about her forehead and neck. Hundreds of them. And her lips are made for kisses. See how dainty and sweet and heart-broken she is. She is dreaming of _you_, James. Are you going to let her go?
Why, who could resist such a girl? _You're not going to let her go!_ You feel what I am saying to you. You won't give her up. She loves you, boy.
And you realise now that you can't live without her. Speak! Speak to her!"
"Miss Kathrien!" said Hartmann earnestly; then halted, frightened at his own temerity.
The girl looked up quickly. At sight of him she flushed and rose impulsively to face him.
"Oh, James!" she cried. "I'm so glad--so _glad_ to see you!"
As their hands met the man's hesitancy fled.
"I _felt_ that you were in here," said he. "All at once I seemed to know you were here and alone. And before I realised what I was doing, I came in. I didn't mean to."
"Didn't mean to come and see me while you were here?" she echoed in reproach. "Why not?"
"For the same reason I didn't stay when I was here before. I----"
"Why did you go away that time?" she demanded. "Why did you go without a word of good-bye to--to any of us?"
"Tell her, boy," adjured Peter Grimm. "Don't mind _my_ feelings."
"Your uncle sent me away," blurted Hartmann, "but it was partly at my own request."
"Oom Peter sent you away? Why?"
"I told him the truth again."
"Oh! One of your usual hot arguments that used to worry me so? I remember how excited you both used to get. Was it about the superiority of potatoes to orchids this time?"
"No. The superiority of one person to the whole world."
But she did not catch his meaning. She was looking up at the big athletic body and the clean, strong face, with an absurd longing to creep into the man's arms for shelter as might a tired child.
"It's so _good_ to see you back," she said.
"I'm only here for a few hours," he answered. "Just long enough to put one or two details of the business to rights. Then I'm going away again--this time for good."
"No! Where are you going?"
"Father and I are going to try our luck on our own account. I've a few thousands from a legacy that came to me last month from my grandmother.
And father has saved a tidy little sum, too. We're going to start in with small fruits and market gardening. We haven't decided just where."
"It will be so strange--so different--so lonely and _empty_ when I come back," she mourned, "with Uncle and you both gone. It seems as if the blessed old home was all broken up. It can never be the same again. I don't know how I can muster courage to come into this house after----"
"It will be easier after the first wrench. Everything is easier than we think it's going to be. And, Kathrien," he went on, steadying his voice by a supreme effort, "I hope you'll be happy--beautifully happy."
Neither of them realised that her hand had somehow slipped into his and was resting very contentedly in the big, firm grasp.
"Whether I'm happy or not," replied Kathrien miserably, "it's the only thing to do. Please try to believe that. Oh, James, he died smiling at me--thinking of me--loving me. And just before he went he had begged me to marry Frederik. I shall never forget the wonderful look of happiness in his eyes when I promised. It was all he wanted in life. He said he'd never been so happy before. He smiled up at me for the very last time, with his dear face all alight. And there he sat, smiling, after he was gone. The smile of a man leaving this life absolutely satisfied--at peace!"
"I know. Marta told me. I----"
"It's like a hand on my heart, hurting it almost unbearably when I question doing anything he wanted. It has always been so with me ever since I was a baby. I never could bear to go against his wishes. And now that he's gone--why, I _must_ keep my word. I couldn't meet him in the Hereafter if I didn't keep that last sacred promise to him. I couldn't say my prayers at night. I couldn't speak his name in them. Oom Peter trusted me. He depended on me. He did everything for me. I must do this for him."
"No, no!" exclaimed the Dead Man. "You are wrong. Tell her so, James!"
"I wanted you to know this, James," finished Kathrien, "because--because----"
A gush of tears blotted out Hartmann's tense, wretched face and choked her hesitating utterance.
"Have you told Frederik that you don't love him?" asked Hartmann, forcing himself to resist the yearning to gather her into his arms and kiss away her tears. "Does he know?"
She nodded, her face buried in her hands.
"And Frederik is willing to take you like that? On those terms?"
Another dumb nod of the pretty, fluffy little head, with its face still convulsed and hidden.
"The yellow dog!" burst forth Hartmann.
"You flatter him," sadly a.s.sented Peter Grimm.
"Look here, Kathrien," hurried on Hartmann, "I didn't mean to say a word of this to-day,--or ever. Not a word. But the instant I came in here from the office just now, something made me change my mind. I knew all at once I _must_ talk to you. You looked so little, so young, so helpless, all huddled up there by the fire. Kathrien, you've never had to think for yourself. You don't know what you are doing in going on with this blasphemous, loveless marriage. Why, dear, you are making the most terrible mistake possible to a woman. Marriage _with_ love is often a tragedy. Without love it is a h.e.l.l. A horror that will deepen and grow more dreadful with every year."
"Do you suppose I don't understand that?" she whispered. "Don't make it harder for me."
"Your uncle was wrong to ask such a sacrifice. Why should you wreck your life to carry out his pig-headed plans?"
"Oh!"
"Not strong enough yet," advised Peter Grimm. "Go on, lad."
"You are going to be wretched for the rest of your days, just to please a dead man who can't even know about it," insisted Hartmann. "Or if he _does_ know, you may be certain he sees the affair more sanely by this time and is bitterly sorry he made you promise."
"He a.s.suredly is," acquiesced Peter Grimm. "I wish I'd known in other days that you had so much sense. Go ahead!"
"You mustn't speak so, James," reproved Kathrien, deeply shocked.
"I----"