Читать книгу As Other Men Are - Yates Dornford - Страница 5

My Darling Jeremy,

I would like to come to you if you will tell me where you are. I have tried very hard to do what you would have liked ever since you went, and if you had been here I should have been very happy. Please let me come, because, if you don’t, I don’t think I shall be able to go on. I would try, of course, but I think I should break. I’ve tried to write calmly, darling, but I shall be very glad to hear as soon as you can. Oh, Jeremy, my precious, I suppose you couldn’t wire.

Your very loving

Eve.

No sooner had the letter been dispatched than a terror that it would miscarry flung into Eve’s heart. She saw it being mislaid, forgotten, let to join the faded habitués of some dusty mantelpiece. Of course she should have marked it ‘Important,’ enclosed it in a note to the editor saying how serious it was, asking for it to be expressed or sent by hand. Then, at least, he would have taken action. Besides, it was serious—desperately so: and urgent—most urgent. Yet she had done nothing to accelerate a reply—nothing. What a fool she was! She had certainly asked him to wire, but why not to telephone? If the letter had gone to him by hand and he were to have telephoned....

The tide of apprehensive impatience rose to an intolerable height....

Eve rose to her feet and stood twisting her fingers.

After a moment, trembling a little, she stepped to the telephone....

“Oh, I rang up a little while ago and asked for Mr. Broke’s address—Mr. Jeremy Broke. And you said—I think I spoke to you—you said that if I sent a letter——”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I’ve just sent you a letter by hand, but I ought to have marked it ‘Important’ and—and ... Well, I really should have enclosed it in a note to you because it’s very urgent, and I would like it sent on by messenger-boy if you could do it. At once—to-night, I mean. You see——”

“I don’t think he’s in London. Wait a minute.” The voice became almost inaudible. Frantically Eve strained her ears.... “Broke. Jeremy Broke—fellow that wrote Babel ... messenger-boy.... Rome, isn’t it? Poste Restante, Rome....” The voice returned to the mouthpiece. “No. I’m afraid—— Hullo! Are you there? ... Hullo ... Hullo ...”

After a moment or two the speaker replaced his receiver with a sigh.

“Cut off,” he said wearily. “Never mind. She’ll ring up again.”

He was quite wrong.

He had had his last conversation with Mrs. Broke.

The latter was already preparing to leave for Italy....

Two days later the lady had reached Rome and was being rapidly driven to the Ritz Hotel. Purposely she avoided the Grand, where she and Jeremy had stayed—centuries ago.

She passed into the hall and up to the polished bureau.

The reception-clerk was busy—speaking into the telephone.

“Oui, madame.... Parfaitement.... Jusqu’à samedi prochain les deux, et après samedi les trois avec un salon en suite.... C’est entendu, madame.... Merci.”

He left the instrument, stooped to make an entry and turned with an apology to Eve.

“Hullo, Jeremy,” said his wife.

At half-past eight that evening Jeremy Broke, Gentleman, entered the Grand Hotel and sent up his name.

His head was aching, and he felt rather tired.

He wondered dully what this dinner with Eve would bring forth. The great gulf fixed between them seemed exceeding wide: everything was insisting upon its width. Not since the day on which he had left her house had he been used as a gentleman: now he was treated with respect—which her wealth had induced. A page she would presently tip was dancing attendance; here was the pomp of a salon which she had purchased; there was champagne waiting for which she would pay....

As the door closed behind him, another was opened, and Eve in a plain black frock came into the room.

“Oh, Jeremy.”

He went to her quickly and kissed her hands and lips.

The big brown eyes searched his steadily.

He smiled back....

“What is it, Jeremy? Why are you playing up?”

Jeremy dropped her fingers and turned away.

“The burnt child,” he said slowly, “dreads the fire.”

“Are you sorry I came?”

“Oh, Eve.”

He drew in his breath sharply, hesitated and fell to playing with his moustache....

Dinner was served.

The meal did much for both of them, as meals can. Jeremy’s headache passed, and Eve was refreshed. The flesh being fortified, the spirit lifted up its head.

By the time the servants had withdrawn they were exchanging news with zest....

“So, really,” concluded Jeremy, settling himself in a chair, “I’ve—I’ve done very well. It’s a most entertaining job—smoothing down the indignant, humouring the whimsical, bluffing the undesirable, assisting the helpless, shepherding the vague.... I never had the faintest idea how many remarkable people are floating around. We had a fellow one day who stayed for six weeks. He went to bed when he arrived and he never got up. For six solid weeks he stayed in his bed. Nothing the matter with him. No suggestion of ill health. It was just his way of life. He did it wherever he went. Chauffeur and valet kicking their heels all day. He wouldn’t have the valet in his room except to shave him. Said he didn’t like his face. Then one day he got up and left for Naples.... I got off once—with an old English lady. She had a courier and two maids and travelled her own bath. She used to be ringing me up the whole day long, and she never went out or came in without speaking to me. It was most embarrassing. She gave me a cheque, when she left, for a hundred pounds. I tore it up, of course....”

“You would,” said Eve.

“Well, I couldn’t take money like that.”

“Plenty of people do.”

“Yes, but ...”

Eve leaned forward.

“She wanted you to have it, Jeremy. She was rich, and it gave her pleasure to spend her money like that. Your conscience was clear.”

Jeremy shifted in his chair.

“It wouldn’t ’ve been,” he said, “if I’d frozen on to it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t deserve it.”

“Wasn’t that a matter for her?”

The man hesitated. Then—

“I just couldn’t take it,” he said.

“Because it was a tip?”

“Oh, no. If it had been a fiver—well, I suppose I’d been attentive and I’ve no false pride.”

“Then why,” said Eve, “why did you turn it down?”

Jeremy laughed.

“I’m damned if I know,” he said. “But it couldn’t be done.”

Eve lay back in her chair and crossed her legs.

“Shall I tell you?” she said. “Because you’re a gentleman. You thought she’d lost her head—she probably had: and you weren’t going to take advantage of a runaway heart.... That hundred pounds was Cæsar’s: you rendered it whence it came.”

Broke got upon his feet and turned to the mantelpiece.

Presently he took out a pipe and a well-worn pouch.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said slowly.

After a long look Eve lowered her eyes to the floor.

“You got off once before, Jeremy—nearly three years ago now.”

“Yes,” said Jeremy, pressing tobacco home.

“Did you think I’d lost my head?”

“No.”

“Or that to take my money would be taking advantage of my heart?”

“No.”

“Yet you rendered it to Cæsar—every cent.” She leapt to her feet and caught the lapels of his coat. “Every rotten cent that the good God had given us to make us happy you rendered unto Cæsar, as though it were Cæsar’s. And it wasn’t Cæsar’s, Jeremy. It was ours—yours and mine....” Her voice broke, and the tears came into her eyes. “I was so happy, dear, to think I was rich, because I felt I’d got something worth sharing—which you would share. I was so proud and happy.... And then—you—wouldn’t—share—it. ... Well, at first I was dismayed, as children are. You married a child, you know.... I tell you, I was ready to cry for disappointment. And then, suddenly, I saw something very magnificent—unearthly handsome, Jeremy, in your refusal. It was something so bright and shining that I couldn’t think of anything else. I found you were paying me a compliment for all the world to see such as no woman with money had ever been paid before.... Well, I’m vain. And the childish impulse to burst into tears was swallowed up in pride to think that I had for my husband so fine a gentleman. I found it so flattering, Jeremy: I was just drunk with vanity. And so I became a princess—you made me one, dear: and the child that you married disappeared.... And with the child disappeared the idea of sharing—a princess doesn’t share. That it was our money never occurred to me again. I had no eyes for such an idea. Every hour of every day you showed me that it was mine. And I came to prize its possession because it had brought me this superb allegiance. I sank to be a queen, Jeremy: and dragged you down to be the keeper of my purse ... you ... And then a day came when the queen became imperious—high with her faithful servant ... thought him presumptuous ... rose in the dignity he’d given her and asked who paid him to keep the privy purse.” There was a long silence. Presently Eve went on. “And then a strange thing happened. You went, of course. But so did the queen, Jeremy. So did the pride and vanity and all the false position you had built up. And if you could have seen what was left, you’d ’ve seen a child crying—because it had no playmate to share its pretty toys. ... I say the false position you had built up. Jeremy lad, it’s true. I let you build it, of course. I gave you the bricks. If I hadn’t been so vain—so hellishly vain, I’d ’ve caught your arm at the beginning and stopped the rot. You built so faithfully, Jeremy—with the cleanest, honestest heart. And I watched you and let you build and thought how wonderful it was. And all the time you were rendering our happiness to Cæsar. He’s had four months of it already, four long, matchless months out of our little treasure. Oh, Jeremy, Jeremy, you’re not going to give him any more?”

Jeremy caught her to him and held her close.

“My eloquent darling,” he said, with his cheek against hers. “But you’ve forgotten my sex. A man——”

“You’d ’ve married me if I’d been poor?”

“You know I would.”

“It was because I was rich that you wouldn’t speak?”

“Yes.”

“It was the child you wanted to play with—not her toys?”

“Yes.”

“Why, then your honour is clean. And it’ll always be clean—so long as you’d play with the child if she had no toys.... You wouldn’t want me to throw my toys away—I’ve always had them to play with. Yet how d’you think I feel when the child I’ve picked to be my playfellow won’t share my pretty toys?”

“I wonder,” said Jeremy slowly, “I wonder whether you’re right. ‘Unto Cæsar.’ You mean I’ve been paying conscience-money—which I never owed?”

Eve nodded.

The man put her gently aside and began to pace the room.

Slight fingers to mouth, Eve watched him, as one watches the flow of a crisis which one is powerless to treat. Her face was calm, and she stood like statuary: only the rise and fall of her breast betrayed her hammering heart. Her brain was straining frantically to perceive the line she would have to take. She had moved him—shaken him plainly. Everything in the world was depending on how she handled the next thing Jeremy said....

Suddenly he swung round.

“Eve, if I come back, my livelihood’s gone. And I mayn’t be quite so lucky ... another time.”

His wife stood up.

“You go too fast, Jeremy. I’ve suffered, you know—most terribly. And I can’t go through it again.” She hesitated. “Before you come back, you must promise ... to play with my toys.”

For a long minute Jeremy stood regarding his wife.

Then suddenly he smiled—the smile of a man who has suddenly come upon the truth.

He stepped to Eve and put his arms about her.

“What a fool I’ve been,” he said. “What a blinking, blear-eyed fool. Of course, it’s partly your fault. You gave me my choice when you had no choice to give.”

“What do you mean, Jeremy?”

“You asked me which I would marry—the child or the witch or the princess. Well, I couldn’t pick and choose. I had to marry the three—or none at all.”

“But——”

“Listen. When you’re a child, I’ll play with your pretty toys: when you’re a witch, I’ll—I’ll play with your beautiful hair: and when you’re a princess....”

“Yes, yes,”—eagerly.

“Why, then,” said Jeremy proudly, “I’ll play the prince.”

A glorious smile swept into his darling’s face.

“And they lived happily,” she breathed.

Jeremy nodded.

“Ever after,” he whispered.