The Twenty-Fourth of June: Midsummer's Day

by Grace S. Richmond

  CHAPTER XX

  SIDE LIGHTS

  Louis Gray sat in a capacious willow easy-chair beside the high whiteiron hospital bed upon which lay Hugh Benson, convalescing from hisattack of fever. "Pretty comfortable they make you here," Louisobserved, glancing about. "I didn't know their private rooms were as bigand airy as this one."

  Benson smiled. "I don't imagine they all are. I didn't realize what sortof quarters I was in till I began to get better and mother told me.According to her I have the best in the place. That's Rich. Whatever helooks after is sure to be gilt-edged. I wonder if you know what a princeof good fellows he is, anyway."

  "I always knew he was a good fellow," Louis agreed. "He has thatreputation, you know--kind-hearted and open-handed. I should know hewould be a substantial friend to his college classmate and businesspartner."

  "He's much more than that." Benson's slow and languid speech took on amore earnest tone. "Do you know, I think if any young man in this cityhas been misjudged and underrated it's Rich. I know the reputation youspeak of; it's another way of calling a man a spendthrift, to say he'sfree with his money among his friends. But I don't believe anybody knowshow free Rich Kendrick is with it among people who have no claim on him.I never should have known if I hadn't come here. One of my nurses hastold me a lot of things she wasn't supposed ever to tell; but once shehad let a word drop I got it out of her. Why, Louis, for three yearsRich has paid the expenses of every sick child that came into thishospital, where the family was too poor to pay. He's paid for severalbig operations, too, on children that he wanted to see have the best.There are four special private rooms he keeps for those they call hispatients, and he sees that whoever occupies them has everything theyneed--and plenty of things they may not just need, but are bound toenjoy--including flowers like those."

  He pointed to a splendid bowlful of blossoms on a stand behind Louis,such blossoms as even in June grow only in the choicest of gardens.

  "All this is news to me," declared Louis; "mighty good news, too. Buthow has he been able to keep it so quiet?"

  "Hospital people all pledged not to tell; so of course you and I mustn'tbe responsible for letting it out, since he doesn't want it known. I'mglad I know it, though, and I felt somehow that you ought to know. Iused to think a lot of Rich at college, but now that he's my partner Ithink so much more I can't be happy unless other people appreciate him.And in the business--I can't tell you what he is. He's more like abrother than a partner."

  His thin cheeks flushed, and Louis suddenly bethought himself."I'm letting you talk too much, Hugh," he said self-accusingly."Convalescents mustn't overexert themselves. Suppose you lie stilland let me read the morning paper to you."

  "Thank you, my nurse has done it. Talking is really a great luxury andit does me good, a little of it. I want to tell you this about Rich--"

  The door opened quietly as he spoke and Richard Kendrick himself camein. Quite as usual, he looked as if he had that moment left the hands ofa most scrupulous valet. No wonder Louis's first thought was, as helooked at him, that people gave him credit for caring only forexternals. One would not have said at first glance that he had eversoiled his hands with any labour more tiring than that of putting onhis gloves. And yet, studying him more closely in the light of therevelations his friend had made, was there not in his attractive facemore strength and force than Louis had ever observed before?

  "How goes it this morning, Hugh?" was the new-comer's greeting. Hegrasped the thin hand of the convalescent, smiling down at him. Then heshook hands with Louis, saying, "It's good of such a busy man to come inand cheer up this idle one," and sat down as if he had come to stay. Buthe had no proprietary air, and when a nurse looked in he only bowedgravely, as if he had not often seen her before. If Louis had not knownhe would not have imagined that Richard's hand in the affair of Benson'sillness had been other than that of a casual caller.

  Louis Gray went away presently, thinking it over. He was thinking of itagain that evening as he sat upon the big rear porch of the Gray home,which looked out upon the lawn and tennis court where he and Roberta hadjust been having a bout lasting into the twilight.

  "I heard something to-day that surprised me more than anything for along time," he began, and when his sister inquired what the strange newsmight be he repeated to her as he could remember it Hugh Benson'soutline of the extraordinary story about Richard Kendrick. When she hadheard it she observed:

  "I suppose there is much more of that sort of thing done by the veryrich than we dream of."

  "By old men, yes--and widows, and a few other classes of people. But Idon't imagine it's so common as to be noticeable among the young men ofhis class, do you?"

  "Perhaps not. Though you do hear of wonderful things the bachelors do atChristmas for the poor children."

  "At Christmas--that's another story. Hearts get warmed up at Christmas,that, like old Scrooge's, are cold and careless the rest of the year.But for a fellow like Rich Kendrick to keep it up all the yearround--you'll find that's not so commonplace a tale."

  "I don't know much about rich young men."

  "You've certainly kept this one at a distance," Louis observed, eyinghis sister curiously in the twilight. She was sitting in a boyishattitude, racket on lap, elbows on knees, chin on clasped hands, eyes onthe shadowy garden. "He's been coming here evening after evening untilnow that his grandfather has gone home, and never once has anybody seenyou so much as standing on the porch with him, to say nothing ofstrolling into the garden. What's the matter with you, Rob? Any othergirl would be following him round and getting into his path. Not thatyou would need to, judging by the way I've seen him look at you once ortwice. Have you drawn an imaginary circle around yourself and pointedout to him the danger of crossing it? I should take him for a fellow whowould cross it then anyhow!"

  "Imaginary circles are sometimes bigger barriers than stone walls," sheadmitted, smiling to herself, "Besides, Lou, I thought somebody else wasthe person you wanted to see walking in the garden with me."

  "Forbes? The person I expected to see, you mean. Well, I don't knowabout Forbes Westcott. He's a mighty clever chap, but I sometimes thinkhis blood is a little thin--like his body. I can't imagine his botheringabout a sick child at a hospital, can you? I've never seen him take aminute's notice of Steve's pair; and they're little trumps, if everchildren were. Corporations are more in his line than children."

  * * * * *

  One thing leads to another in this interesting world. It was not twodays after this talk that Roberta herself had a private view of a littleaffair which proved more illuminating to her understanding of a certainfellow mortal than might have been all the evidence of other witnessesthan her own eyes.

  Returning from school on one of the last days of the term, weary ofwalls and longing for the soothing stillness and refreshment ofoutdoors, Roberta turned aside some distance from her regular course topass through a large botanical park, originally part of a great estate,and newly thrown open to the public. It was, as yet, less frequentedthan any other of the city parks. Much of it, according to the decree ofits donor, a nature lover of discrimination, had been left in a statenot far removed from wildness, and it was toward this portion thatRoberta took her way; experiencing, with each step along a winding,secluded path she had recently discovered, that sense of escape intoluxurious freedom which comes only after enforced confinement when theworld outside is at its most alluring.

  At a point where the path swept high above a long, descending slope, atthe foot of which lay a tiny pool surrounded by thick and beautifullykept turf, Roberta paused, and after looking about her for a minute tomake sure that there was no one near, turned aside from the path andthrew herself down beside a great clump of ferns, breathing a deep sighof restful relief. She sat gazing dreamily down at the pool, in whichwas mirrored an exquisite reflection of tree and sky, the scene assilent and still as though drawn upon canvas. She had many things tothink of, in these days, and a place like this wa
s an ideal one in whichto think.

  Was it? Far below her she heard the low hum of a motor. None could comenear her, but the road beneath wound near the pool, though out of sightexcept at one point. In spite of this, the girl drew back further intothe shelter of the tall ferns, thinking as she did so that it was thefirst time she had seen this remoter part of the park invaded by eithermotorist or pedestrian. Watching the point at which the car must appearshe saw it come slowly into sight and stop. There were two occupants, aman and a boy, but at the distance she could not discern their faces.The man stepped out, and coming around to the other side of the car putout his arms and lifted the boy. He did not set him down, but carriedhim, seeming to hold him with peculiar care, and brought him through thesurrounding trees and shrubbery to the pool itself, coming, as he didso, into full view of the unseen eyes above.

  Roberta experienced a sudden strange leap of the heart as she saw thatthe supple figure of the man was Richard Kendrick's own, and that theslight frame he bore was that of a crippled child. She could see now theiron braces on the legs, like pipe stems, which stuck straight out fromthe embrace of the strong young arm which held them. She could discernclearly the pallor and emaciation of the small face, in pitiful contrastto the ruggedly healthy one of the child's bearer. Fascinatedly shewatched as Richard set his burden carefully down upon the grass, closeto the edge of the pool, the boy's back against a big white birch trunk.The two were not so far below her but that she could see the expressionon their faces, though she could not hear their words.

  Richard ran back to the car, returning with a rug and something in along and slender case. He arranged a cushion behind the little back.Roberta judged the boy to be about eight or nine years old, though smallfor his age, as such children are. Richard undid the case and produced asmall fishing-rod, which he fell to preparing for use, talking gayly ashe did so, watched eagerly by his youthful companion. Evidently the boywas to have a great and unaccustomed pleasure.

  Well, it was certainly in line with that which Roberta had heard of thisyoung man, but somehow to see something of it with her own eyes wassingularly more convincing. She could not bring herself to get up and goaway--surely there could be no need to feel that she was spying if shestayed to watch the interesting scene. If Richard had chosen a spotwhich he fancied entirely secluded from observation, it was undoubtedlywholly on the boy's own account. She could easily imagine how such achild as this one would shrink from observation in a public place,particularly when he was to try the dearly imagined but wholly unknowndelight of fishing. It was plain that he was very shy, even with thiskind friend, for it was only now and then that he replied in words toRichard's talk, though the response in the white face and big black eyeswas eloquent enough.

  It seemed in every way remarkable that a young man of Richard Kendrick'ssort should devote himself to a poor and crippled child as he was doingnow. Not a gesture or act of his was lost upon the girl who watched.Clearly he was taking all possible pains to please and interest hislittle protege, and he was doing it in a way which showed much skill,suggesting previous practice in the art. This was no such interest as hehad shown in Gordon and Dorothy Gray, whose beauty had been so powerfulan appeal to his fancy. There was nothing about this child to take holdupon any one except his helplessness and need. But Richard was as gentlewith him, as patient with his awkward attempts at holding the light rodin the proper position for fishing, and as full of resources forentertaining him when the fish--if there were any--failed to bite, as hecould have been with a small brother of his own.

  There was another thing which it was impossible not to note: Never hadRoberta seen this young man in circumstances so calculated to impressupon her the potency of his personality. Unconscious of the scrutiny ofany other human being, wholly absorbed in the task of making a small boyhappy, he was naturally showing her himself precisely as he was. Inplace of his usual careful manners when in her presence was entirefreedom from restraint and therefore an effect uncoloured byconventional environment. The tones of his voice, the frank smile uponhis lips, the touch of his hand upon the little lad's--all thesecombined to set him before Roberta in a light so different from any shehad seen him in before that she must needs admit she had been far fromknowing him.

  She stole away at length, feeling suddenly that she had seen enough, andthat her defences against the siege being made upon her heart andjudgment were weakening perilously. If she were to hold out before itshe must hear of no more affairs to Richard Kendrick's credit,especially such affairs as these. Not all his efforts at establishing asuccessful career in the world of achievement could touch herimagination as did the knowledge of his brotherly kindness toward theunfortunate. That was what meant most to Roberta, in a world which shehad early discovered to be a hard place for the greater part of itsinhabitants. Forgetfulness of self, devotion to the need ofothers--these were the qualities she most strove to cultivate inherself, and most rejoiced at seeing developed in those for whom shecared.

  Unluckily for his cause, if there had been a possible chance for itssuccess, Forbes Westcott chose the evening of this same day to comeagain to Roberta Gray with his question burning on his lips. He arrivedat a moment when, to his temporary satisfaction, Roberta was said to beplaying a set of singles in the court with Ruth by the light of afast-fading afterglow; and he took his way thither without delay. It wasa simple matter, of course, to a man of his resource, to dispose of theyoung sister, in spite of the elder's attempt to foil him at his owngame. So presently he had Roberta to himself, with every advantage oftime and place and summer beauty all about.

  Louis Gray, looking down the lawn from the rear porch, upon whose stepshe sat with Rosamond and Stephen, descried the tall figure strolling bytheir sister's side along a stretch of closely shaven turf between rowsof slim young birches.

  "Forbes is persistent, eh?" he observed. "Think he has a fightingchance?"

  "Oh, I hope not!" cried Rosamond impulsively.

  Stephen's grave eyes followed the others, to dwell upon the distantpair. "Forbes stands to win a big place among men," was his comment.

  "Oh, really big?" Rosamond's tender eyes came to meet her husband's."Stephen, do you think he is quite--scrupulous?--wholly honourable?"

  "I have no reason to think otherwise, Rosy."

  She shook her head. "Somehow I--could never quite trust him. He wouldlive strictly by the letter of the law--but the spirit--"

  "Expect people to live by the spirit--these days, little girl?" inquiredLouis, with an affectionate glance at her.

  She gazed straight back. "Yes. You do it--and so does Stephen--andFather Gray--and Uncle Calvin."

  The eyes of the brothers met above her fair head, and they smiled.

  "That's high distinction, from you, dear," said her husband. "But youmust not do Westcott injustice. He has the reputation of being sharp asa knife blade, and of outwitting men in fair contest in court and out ofit, but no shadow has ever touched his character."

  Still she shook her head. "I can't help it. I don't want Rob to marryhim."

  The young men laughed together, and Rosamond smiled with them.

  "There you have it," said Louis. "There's no going behind those returns.The county votes no, and the candidate is defeated. Let him consolehimself with the vote from other counties--if he can."

  The three were still upon the porch half an hour later, with others ofthe family, when the two figures came again up the stretch of lawnbetween the slim white birches, showing ghostlike now in the Junemoonlight. They came in silence, as far as any sound of their voicesreached the porch, and they disappeared like two shades toward the frontof the house.

  "He's not coming even to speak to us," whispered Rosamond to Stephen."That's very unlike him. Do you suppose--"

  "It may be a case of the voice sticking in the throat," returned herhusband, under his breath. "I fancy he'll take it hard when Rob disposesof him--as she certainly ought to do by this time, if she's not going totake him. But she'd better think twice. He's
a brilliant fellow, and hehas no rivals within hailing distance, in his line."

  But Rosamond shook her head again. "He would never make her happy," shebreathed, with conviction. "Oh, I hope--I hope!"

  Her hopes grew with Roberta's absence. Westcott had gone, for Ruth,appearing at Rosamond's side, announced that Roberta was in her ownroom, and would not be down again to-night.

  "I think she has a headache," said the little sister. "Queer, for Inever knew Rob to have a headache before."

  "The headache," murmured Louis, in Rosamond's ear, "is the femininedefence against the world. A timely headache, now and then, is sufferedby the best of men--and women. Well--let her rest, Rufus. She'll be allright in the morning."

  Above them, by her open window, sat Roberta, for a little while, elbowson sill, chin in hands. Then, presently, she stole downstairs again, outby a side entrance, and away among the shrubbery, to the furthest pointof the grounds--not far, in point of actual distance, but quite removedby its environment from contact with the world around. Here, stretchedupon the warm turf, her arms outflung, her eyes gazing up at thestar-set heavens above her, the girl rested from her encounter with adesperate besieging force.

  For a time, the last words she had heard that evening were ringing inher ears--sombre words, uttered in a deep tone of melancholy, by a voicewhich commanded cadences that had often reached the minds and hearts ofmen and swayed them. "Is that all--_all_, Roberta? Must I go away with_that_?"

  She had sent him away, and her heart ached for him, for she could notdoubt the depth and sincerity of his feeling for her. Being a woman,with a warm and kindly nature, she was sad with the disquieting thoughtthat anywhere under that starry sky was one whose spirit was heavyto-night because of her. But--there had been no help for it. She knewnow, beyond a doubt, that there had been no help.