Читать книгу Undertow - Arthur Hamilton Gibbs - Страница 11

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The wintry fields were bleak and unkindly. It was not actually raining, but one of those heavy mists made everything as wet as if it were. The hedge on either side of the road dripped gently and there was a monotonous incessant patter of drops from the naked branches of the trees on to the soddened decaying leaves below. Here and there, a distant crow barked irritably and went off on heavy blue-black wings as Philip and Millicent came crunching side by side along the muddy gravel road. The collars of their rainproofs were buttoned under their chins. The end of an orange woollen scarf, sticking out at Millicent’s waist, made the only warm spot of color in that lugubrious landscape.

The weather and the desolation of the countryside would have affected any but English people. These two hardly noticed it. They had grown up with it, knew nothing else, were a part of it all; and had started out from Uxminster completely undeterred by the lowering sky. They had planned to walk over to Little Kimble, three miles away, and have tea in the inn there. What did a possible wetting matter; and besides—Philip risked a glance at the girl’s face—somehow or other, when they reached the inn, he’d got to ... to tell her! His mind was made up! He caught his breath and swallowed, drily, the palms of his hands all sweaty.

Striding along in her thick-soled brogues—the kind whose split-ended tongues flap over the instep—Millicent’s skin was rosy in the cold air, like a ripening peach that has acquired the first suggestion of a blush. A curl had apparently worked its way to freedom from beneath the blue beret and was rioting at the side of her face. Apparently a little excited at being “taken up” by Uxminster society, she was well started in a description of a bridge party at Mrs. Jennifer’s. This Jennifer bridge made her third invitation now and she began to feel that she really belonged. They had been awfully nice, and although, of course, it was entirely due to her uncle, didn’t Mr. Jocelyn think that it was a little bit for herself too?

Hardly aware of what she was saying, Philip caught at the final words of her question and grunted the right answer. “Of course,” he said, and then the monologue began again.... His mind was made up! But was it? How could one possibly know whether to go forward or backward? Once he ... told her, that is, asked her, all his boats would be burned. It would be irrevocable, final. Why was he doing it? What magic was there in this girl that drew him on? Why did the mere consciousness of her walking beside him with that spot of bright orange and the faint smell of jasmine, make him feel as contented as a kitten full of milk and at the same time as discontented as an outcast? Why did her chatter about that inane tea fight exasperate him if he paused to analyze it, and yet give him infinite peace merely to hear it, and see it, come out of her mouth? She was there, beside him, alive, warm, feminine; and it was good, wonderfully good.... What was the use of boggling, of funking it, of pandering to that damnable questioning which always made him try and see all round a thing and out the other side? Wasn’t it better to make mistakes than make nothing at all? It was like standing on one foot forever, afraid to put the other down because something might happen. It was damn silly! He was sick to death of it!

Without the slightest warning he changed his stick to the other hand so that the one next to her was free. With it he seized her hand. “Stop talking for a minute, will you?” he said. “I want to say something to you!”

Startled by his sudden interruption, which sounded very like a command, Millicent was even more startled by the capture of her hand. Except when shaking hands at meeting or saying good-by he had never touched her, not even by accident. That was one thing she had always hated about some of “the boys” at Winchester,—whenever they helped her on with her coat after the movies they deliberately slurred a hand down her shoulders or touched her waist on the pretext of “helping” her through traffic. It was beastly. Mr. Jocelyn wasn’t like that.... But now ... he was holding her hand so tightly it almost hurt ... not quite, but still she couldn’t possibly pull it away ... not even if she wanted to.... Suppose some one was watching them!

Her heart was banging against her ribs. She turned her head quickly to make sure that no one was seeing them from behind. Then, as her head came back, she snatched a look at Philip Jocelyn’s face. He was staring in front, white and set.... So it was that! ... For a moment her mind slipped away. She saw herself after the movies one night, struggling on the doorstep of her home with a tall dark boy whose arms were like ropes around her body and who was desperately trying to kiss her lips while she arched her body backwards and wriggled like an eel, hating him, ashamed. He was saying things, jerkily, and his voice was thick, like treacle, terrifying because of what it did to her inside.... She came back with a shiver to the muddy road, the empty fields, and Mr. Jocelyn—Philip!—and felt oddly safe. She obeyed his order and said nothing, marched along in step, her hand in his, a queer little smile at the corners of her lips.

Like an inexperienced diver forcing himself to go off the highest platform, Philip was poised on the edge of action, frozen-lipped, his heart pounding, his mind a blur, self-conscious to the point almost of the elimination of Millicent. The feel of her hand ... or was it his own? ... was entirely different. He might have been grasping a hot coal.

She’s thinking what an ass I am! She’s right. I am an ass, a colossal ass! Why the devil can’t I say it and be done with it? ... “Look here!” he said aloud, and felt a desire to laugh because his voice was so absurdly unlike his normal tone, “look here, I know you think I’m a perfect fool because I go mooning off all the time, and as a matter of fact I entirely agree with you!” He laughed excitedly. “But I happen to ... to be in love with you, do you see? If the ... if the idea doesn’t strike you as altogether preposterous, do you think you could ... could possibly ... marry me?”

He stopped and was appalled at himself. What a way to put it! What inadequate drive! Why hadn’t he said that he wanted to put his head on her breast and forget everything, all the drabness and nothingness; that to be loved by her would be to come to life, to emerge from the shadows, to stand upright.... Why had he been bound instead by that school-mastery blither, that eternal funk of saying anything real? It was another failure to chalk up, in line with the futility of his whole existence, with the ...

He felt a tug at his hand. For the first time he dared to look at Millicent and saw her eyes. There was a glow in them.

“I don’t think it’s as preposterous as all that,” she said.

Philip blinked. “Then perhaps ...” Her meaning began to break through. He stopped and jerked her to a standstill, stood there in the mud and mist, staring down at her. Her breath went floating away in a series of quick tiny clouds,—his own too, but that didn’t matter. There was something wonderful about hers.... He put out his other hand to touch her, then drew back. “You’re ... you’re not making fun of me?”

Millicent smiled. “Do I look as if I was?”

Philip gasped. “Then we ... I mean ...” He gave a queer throaty laugh, bent forward stiffly and touched her lips with his own.... “My God!” he muttered. Then awkwardness dropped from him. His arms went around her and he kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes. “I love you ... I love you! ... I’ve been waiting for this all my life ... I didn’t know ... Millicent!”

At first Millicent clung to him, pressed herself to him, but presently her eyes went up and down the road. She tried to push away from him. “Oh, Philip! You mustn’t! Somebody might see us!”

But Philip held her tightly, threw his head back and laughed. What did these things matter when you were standing on Parnassus? This was his moment at last and nothing could cheat him of it. This was depth and spaciousness, enchantment and wonder, the whole world a raging fire, and time was standing still for them.... “What do I care? Let them see us! Isn’t love the most achingly beautiful thing there is? They would envy us, the poor devils!”

“Yes, but Philip.... Really!”

Philip looked into her eyes. There was something there he must find. “Don’t you feel it too? Aren’t you soaring into the blue? ... Look, there’s not another human soul within miles. We might as well be on a desert island with only palm trees and rocks. We might be, we are, the only man and woman left in the world! Kiss me!”

“That’s all very well,” said Millicent, “but this is a main road and a motor may come tearing along at any minute!”

Philip could feel her muscles begin to get hard. A shadow came into his mind, into his eyes. He shook his head to try and get rid of it. “All I ask is one more kiss!”

Millicent smiled. She was all soft now. “One, then!” she said. “It’s a bargain!” She reached up and pressed her warm lips to his.

The perplexity remained in Philip’s eyes. A bargain.... Did love bargain too? Slowly, wonderingly, he took his arms away from her. Were they trying to cheat him, after all? She was so terribly far away....