V. V.'s Eyes Part 68

"I merely wanted to say this."

And on that they walked ten steps without more speech.

"This," resumed Mr. V.V., and his voice was not easy. "You must have thought it strange the other day, when I told you the--the work I had taken up.... My articles, I mean.... I should know, if anybody does, that you--your family--have had much trouble to bear of late.... It seems that I should be the last person to do what will bring you more trouble--annoyance certainly, pain perhaps.... I felt that I wanted you to know, at least, that it took a--a strong necessity to make me go into the matter--at this time.... I wanted to tell you that--personally--I've been very sorry about it...."

She hesitated a moment, and then said:

"I don't doubt that.... I haven't doubted it since I stopped to think."

And if this was disloyalty to papa, Cally felt that she could not help it.... What, after all, did she know about it? Surely it was all a men's matter, a mere question of "reform," in which some thought one way and some another, and each side said hard things without meaning them exactly. Probably papa would be the last person to wish her to interfere....

"Thank you," he replied, it seemed with feeling in his voice. And walking on, looking straight before him, he added:

"There was one thing more ... Ah--pardon me."

The young doctor carried a cane, but used it princ.i.p.ally for swinging and lunging. In view of his infirmity, Cally had begun by walking more slowly than was her custom. It had soon developed, however, that he was a rapid walker, and of absent-minded habit as well, particularly when talking. So, throughout the brief walk, her difficulty was to keep apace with him.

"What you said just now--my scolding you about the Works.... I realize that it must have seemed peculiar to you, and--and--weak--unmanly--my pursuing you so about a--a--purely business matter. Of course you must have felt that if I had criticisms to make, I should have taken them to your father--instead of inflicting them on you, all the time."

He paused; but the girl said nothing. She had, in fact, speculated considerably on this very point: how could she possibly have any responsibility for the way papa ran his business? It occurred to her to ask the man plainly whether he considered that she had; but she did not do so, perhaps fearing that he might reply in the affirmative....

"I once tried to explain it, in a way," he went on, hurriedly. "I said that I didn't know your father.... You naturally considered that merely a--a foolish sort of--claim--explaining nothing. I suppose you've forgotten all this, but--"

"No, I remember."

"Then let me say that--the other day, when I saw you--I had no idea of mentioning the Works to you, other than to explain my position--not an _idea_.... And then, when we talked--well, I did," he said with a kind of naked ingenuousness, as if no one could have been more surprised about it all than he.... "I can't explain it, so that it won't still seem peculiar to you.... It's only that I do feel somehow that--that knowing people makes a great difference--in certain respects...."

"I--think I can understand that."

"It's generous of you to be willing to try."

"No," said Cally, pulling her veil down at the chin, and quickening her steps as he strode on, "I'm only trying to be--reasonable about it."

They were pa.s.sing people now and then in the twilight street, most of whom Cally spoke to; and once she thought how surprised Hugo would be, could he look over from Washington and see her walking amiably in this company. But then Hugo might have thought of these matters last year, when he said she wasn't the girl he had asked to marry him.

"Besides," said she, suddenly, "you don't mean to say anything--_terribly_ bad about the Works in the articles--do you?"

"Yes, terribly," replied Mr. V.V., leaving her completely taken aback.

He added, formally, after a step or two: "I--ah--shouldn't feel honest if I left you in the slightest doubt--on that point."

But she could not believe now that his articles would be so terrible, no matter what he said, and her strange reply was:

"Then--suppose we don't talk about it."

He said: "I feel it's better so." And then they walked on rapidly in silence.

And somewhere in this silence, it came over Cally that the reason she could not distrust this man was because, in a very special way, she had learned to trust him; could not dislike him because the truth was that in her heart she liked him very much. And people must act as they felt.

And then her thought suddenly advanced much further, as if mounting the last step in a watch-tower: and Cally saw that the question between herself and V. Vivian had always been, not what she might think of him, but what he thought of her....

The fruitful pause ran rather long. She considered complimenting Mr.

V.V. upon his speech, expressing her surprise at his unlooked-for gentleness on the subject of the poor. How could one who spoke so kindly write terrible articles in the newspapers, attacking one's own father?

Cally wondered, missing the perfectly obvious point of it all, namely: that when a man is a guest at a woman's club, his particular task is to look sharp to his tongue, ruling with a strong hand what besetting weakness he may have for grim speech, and abhorring ...

But the whole subject was difficult to the girl, and it was he who broke the silence, speaking his pedestrian's apology again. And this time, so swift and straight had they come, Cally replied, with quite a natural laugh:

"Never mind.... Here I am."

She halted before the white-stone steps of home, and glanced involuntarily toward the windows. Independent though she felt since day before yesterday, she would not have cared to have mamma glance out just then....

"I _hadn't_ realized that we were here already!"

"Oh, it isn't far, as you see.... But it was good of you to bring me."

It was a parting speech; but Cally said it with no inflection of finality. So, at least, it seemed to be considered. V. Vivian stood drawing O's with his stick on the flagging belonging to Mr. Heth, of the Works. He took some pains to make them exactly round.

"I hope," said he, "that your--your annoyance over this matter won't interfere with your interest in the Settlement. I hope you still think of--of helping in the work."

"Oh!... I don't know," replied Cally, having thought but little about this since Hugo's reentrance into her life. "Mr. Pond, you see, convinced me pretty well of my uselessness--"

"It's only his manner!--he's always so mortally afraid that people aren't in earnest. I'm certain he could find--ah--suitable and congenial work, if you--you cared to give him another chance. And I'm certain you'd like him, when you knew him a little better."

"You like him?"

"I put him above any man I know, except only Mr. Dayne."

The tall electric light four doors below, which so irritated the Heths when they sat on their flowered balcony on summer nights, shone now full upon the old family enemy. It was observed that he wore, with his new blue suit, a quaint sprigged waistcoat which looked as if it also might have come down from his Uncle Armistead, along with the money he had given away. The old-fashioned vestment seemed to go well with the young man's face....

Cally stood upon the bottom step of the House, and drew her hand along the rail. It had occurred to her to tell him that she would probably go away to live; but now she only said, half-absently:

"I might think about it, and let you know later."

And then, as he accepted her tone as dismissal, and his hand started toward his hat, she spoke impulsively and hurriedly:

"Tell me, is it your feeling that this matter--the Works--makes it necessary for us to--to go on quarreling?"

The two stood looking at each other. And in each, in this moment, though in differing degree, the desire for harmoniousness was meeting the more intangible feeling that harmony between them seemed to involve surrender in another direction.

"How could it be?" said the man. "It's what I've been trying to say. But I naturally supposed that you--"

"I supposed so, too. It seems that I don't."

She looked down at her hand upon the rail, and said: "Don't misunderstand me. Of course I think that papa is doing what is right. Of course I am on his side. I think your sympathy with the poor makes you extreme. But ... you asked me the other day to try to see your point of view. Well, I think I do see it now. People," said Cally, with a young dignity that became her well, "sometimes agree to disagree. I feel--now when we've quarreled so much--that I'd like to be friends."

The tall young man looked hurriedly away, down the dusky street. In his mind were his articles, shooting about: his terrible articles, where surely n.o.body would find any gentleness to surprise them. They were the best thing he would ever do; precisely the thing he had always wanted to do. And yet--well he knew now that he had no joy in them....

"It's tremendously generous of you," he said, mechanically.