Flower of the Dusk

by Myrtle Reed

  XI

  Barbara's "To-morrow"

  The shimmering white silence of noon lay upon the land. Bees hummed inthe clover, gorgeous butterflies floated drowsily over the meadows, andfar in the blue distance a meadow-lark scattered his golden notes likerain upon the fields.

  [Sidenote: A Cold Shadow]

  The world teemed with life, and yet a cold shadow, as of approachingdeath, darkened the souls of two who walked together in the dusty roadthat led from the hills to the sea. The old man leaned heavily upon thearm of the younger, and his footsteps faltered. The young man's face waswhite and he saw dimly, as through a mist, but he tried to keep hisvoice even.

  From the open windows of the little grey house came the deadly sweetsmell of anaesthetics, heavy with prescience and pain. It dominated,instantly, all the blended Summer fragrances and brought terror to themboth.

  "I cannot bear it," said Ambrose North, miserably. "I cannot bear tohave my baby hurt."

  "She isn't being hurt now," answered Roger, with dry lips. "She'sasleep."

  "It may be the sleep that knows no waking. If you loved Barbara, youwould understand."

  The boy's senses, exquisitely alive and quivering, merged suddenly intoone unspeakable hurt. If he loved Barbara! Ah, did he not love her? Whatof last night, when he walked up and down in that selfsame road untildawn, alone with the wonder and fear and joy of it, and unutterablydreading the to-morrow that had so swiftly become to-day.

  "I was a fool," muttered Ambrose North. "I was a fool to give myconsent."

  "It was her choice," the boy reminded him, "and when she walks----"

  "When she walks, it may be in the City Not Made With Hands. If I hadsaid 'no,' we should not be out here now, while she--" The tearsstreamed over his wrinkled cheeks and his bowed shoulders shook.

  [Sidenote: All for the Best]

  "Don't," pleaded Roger. "It's all for the best--it must be all for thebest."

  Neither of them saw Eloise approaching as she came up the road from thehotel. She was in white, as usual, bareheaded, and she carried a whitelinen parasol. She went to them, calling out brightly, "Good morning!"

  "Who is it?" asked the old man.

  "It must be Miss Wynne, I think."

  "What is it?" inquired Eloise, when she joined them. "What is thematter?"

  The blind man could not speak, but he pointed toward the house with ashaking hand.

  "It's Barbara, you know," said Roger. "They're in there--cutting her."The last words were almost a whisper.

  [Sidenote: Allan is There]

  "But you mustn't worry," cried Eloise. "Nothing can go wrong. Why, Allanis there."

  Insensibly her confidence in Allan and the clear ring of her voicerelieved the unbearable tension. Surely, Barbara could not die if Allanwere there.

  "It's hard, I know," Eloise went on, in her cool, even tones, "but thereis no doubt about the ending. Allan is one of the few really greatsurgeons--he has done wonderful things. He has done things that everyoneelse said were impossible. Barbara will walk and be as straight andstrong as any of us. Think what it will mean to her after twenty yearsof helplessness. How fine it will be to see her without the crutches."

  "I have never minded the crutches," said Roger. "I do not want herchanged."

  "I cannot see her," sighed Ambrose North. "I have never seen my baby."

  "But you're going to," Eloise assured him, "for Allan says so, andwhatever Allan says is true."

  At length, she managed to lead them farther away, though not out ofsight of the house, and they all sat down on the grass. She talkedcontinually and cheerfully, but the atmosphere was tense with waiting.Ambrose North bowed his grey head in his hands, and Roger, still pale,did not once take his eyes from the door of the little grey house.

  After what seemed an eternity, someone came out. It was one of Allan'sassistants. A nurse followed, and put a black bag into the buggy whichwas waiting outside. Roger was on his feet instantly, watching.

  "Sit down," commanded Eloise, coolly. "Allan can see us from here, andhe will come and tell us."

  Ambrose North lifted his grey head. "Have they--finished--with her?"

  "I don't know," returned Eloise. "Be patient just a little longer,please do."

  [Sidenote: All Right]

  Outwardly she was calm, but, none the less, a great sob of relief almostchoked her when Doctor Conrad came across the road to them, swinging hisblack bag, and called out, in a voice high with hope, "All right!"

  * * * * *

  The sky was a wonderful blue, but the colour of the sea was deeperstill. The vast reaches of sand were as white as the blown snow, andthe Tower of Cologne had never been so fair as it was to-day. The sunshone brightly on the clear glass arches that made the cupola, and thegolden bells swayed back and forth silently.

  [Sidenote: The Changed Tower]

  Barbara was trying to climb up to the cupola, but her feet were wearyand she paused often to rest. The rooms that opened off from the variouslandings of the winding stairway were lovelier than ever. Thefurnishings had been changed since she was last there, and each room wasmade to represent a different flower.

  There was a rose room, all in pink and green, a pond-lily room in greenand white, a violet room in green and lavender, and a gorgeous suite ofrooms which someway seemed like a great bouquet of nasturtiums. But,strangely, there was no fragrance of cologne in the Tower. The bottleswere all on the mantels, as usual, but Barbara could not open any ofthem. Instead, there was a heavy, sweet, sickening smell from which shecould not escape, though she went continually from room to room. Itfollowed her like some evil thing that threatened to overpower her.

  The Boy who had always been beside her, and whose face she could notsee, was still in the Tower, but he was far away, with his back towardher. He seemed to be suffering and Barbara tried to get to him tocomfort him, but some unforeseen obstacle inevitably loomed up in herpath.

  [Sidenote: People in the Tower]

  There were many people in the Tower, and most of them were old friends,but there were some new faces. Her father was there, of course, and allthe brave knights and lovely ladies of whom she had read in her books.Miss Wynne was there and she had never been in the Tower before, butBarbara smiled at her and was glad, though she wished they might havehad cologne instead of the sickening smell which grew more deadly everyminute.

  A grave, silent young man whose demeanour was oddly at variance with hisred hair was there also. He had just come and it seemed that he was adoctor. Barbara had heard his name but could not remember it. There werealso two young women in blue and white striped uniforms which were veryneat and becoming. They wore white caps and smiled at Barbara. She hadheard their names, too, but she had forgotten.

  None of them seemed to mind the heavy odour which oppressed her so. Sheopened the windows in the Tower and the cool air came in from the bluesea, but it changed nothing.

  "Come, Boy," she called across the intervening mist. "Let's go up to thecupola and ring all the golden bells."

  He did not seem to hear, so she called again, and again, but there wasno response. It was the first time he had failed to answer her, and itmade her angry.

  "Then," cried Barbara, shrilly, "if you don't want to come, you needn't,so there. But I'm going. Do you hear? I'm going. I'm going up to ringthose bells if I have to go alone."

  Still, the Boy did not answer, and Barbara, her heart warm withresentment, began to climb the winding stairs. She did not hurry, forpictures of castles, towers, and beautiful ladies were woven in thetapestry that lined the walls.

  She came, at last, to the highest landing. There was only one short flightbetween her and the cupola. The clear glass arches were dazzling in the sunand the golden bells swayed temptingly. But a blinding, overwhelming fogdrifted in from the sea, and she was afraid to move by so much as a step.She turned to go back, and fell, down--down--down--into what seemedeternity.

  [Sidenote: The Clouds Lift]

  Be
fore long, the cloud began to lift. She could see a vague suggestionof blue and white through it now. The man with the red hair was talking,loudly and unconcernedly, to a tall man beside him whose face wasobscured by the mist. The voices beat upon Barbara's ears with physicalpain. She tried to speak, to ask them to stop, but the words would notcome. Then she raised her hand, weakly, and silence came upon the room.

  Out of the fog rose Doctor Allan Conrad. He was tired and there was astrained look about his eyes, but he smiled encouragingly. He leanedover her and she smiled, very faintly, back at him.

  "Brave little girl," he said. "It's all right now. All we ever hoped foris coming very soon." Then he went out, and she closed her eyes. Whenshe was again conscious of her surroundings, it was the next day, butshe thought she had been asleep only a few minutes.

  At first there was numbness of mind and body. Then, with everyheart-beat and throb by throb, came unbearable agony. A trembling oldhand strayed across her face and her father's voice, deep with love andlonging, whispered: "Barbara, my darling! Does it hurt you now?"

  "Just a little, Daddy, but it won't last long. I'll be better verysoon."

  One of the blue and white nurses came to her and said, gently, "Is itvery bad, Miss North?"

  [Sidenote: Intense Pain]

  "Pretty bad," she gasped. Then she tried to smile, but her white lipsquivered piteously. The woman with the kind, calm face came back with ashining bit of silver in her hand. There was a sharp stab in Barbara'sarm, and then, with incredible quickness, peace.

  "What was it?" she asked, wondering.

  "Poppies," answered the nurse. "They bring forgetfulness."

  "Barbara," said the old man, sadly, "I wish I could help you bearit----"

  "So you can, Daddy."

  "But how?"

  "Don't be afraid for me--it's coming out all right. And make me a littlesong."

  "I couldn't--to-day."

  "There is always a song," she reminded him. "Think how many times youhave said to me, 'Always make a song, Barbara, no matter what comes.'"

  The old man stirred uneasily in his chair. "What about, dear?"

  "About the sea."

  [Sidenote: Song of the Sea]

  "The sea is so vast that it reaches around the world," he began,hesitatingly. "It sings upon the shore of every land, from the regionsof perpetual ice and snow to the far tropic islands, where the sunforever shines. As it lies under the palms, all blue and silver,crooning so softly that you can scarcely hear it, you would not think itwas the same sea that yesterday was raging upon an ice-bound shore.

  "If you listen to its ever-changing music you can hear almost anythingyou please, for the sea goes everywhere. Ask, and the sea shall sing toyou of the frozen north where half the year is darkness and theimpassable waste of waters sweeps across the pole. Ask, and you shallhear of the distant islands, where there has never been snow, and thetide may even bring to you a bough of olive or a leaf of palm.

  [Sidenote: Song of the Sea]

  "Ask, and the sea will give you red and white coral, queer shells,mystically filled with its own weird music, and treasures of fairy-likelace-work and bloom. It will sing to you of cool, green caves where thewaves creep sleepily up to the rocks and drift out drowsily with the ebbof the tide.

  "It will sing of grey waves changing to foam in the path of the wind,and bring you the cry of the white gulls that speed ahead of the storm.It will sing to you of mermen and mermaids, chanting their own melodiesto the accompaniment of harps with golden strings. Listen, and you shallhear the songs of many lands, merged into one by the sea that unitesthem all.

  "It bears upon its breast the great white ships that carry messages fromone land to another. Silks and spices and pearls are taken from place toplace along the vast highways of the sea. And if, sometimes, in ablinding tumult of terror and despair, the men and ships go down, thesea, remorsefully, brings back the broken spars, and, at last, gives upthe dead.

  [Sidenote: The Dominant Chord]

  "Yet it is always beautiful, whether you see it grey or blue; whether itis mad with rage or moaning with pain, or only crooning a lullaby asthe world goes to sleep. And in all the wonderful music there is onedominant chord, for the song of the sea, as of the world, is Love.

  "Long ago, Barbara--so long ago that it is written in only the veryoldest books, Love was born in the foam of the sea and came to dwellupon the shore. And so the sea, singing forever of Love, creeps aroundthe world upon an unending quest. When the tide sweeps in with the coldgrey waves, foam-crested, or in shining sapphire surges that break intopearls, it is only the sea searching eagerly for the lost. So theloneliness and the beauty, the longing and the pain, belong to Love asto the sea."

  "Oh, Daddy," breathed Barbara, "I want it so."

  "What, dear? The sea?"

  "Yes. The music and the colour and the vastness of it. I can hardly waituntil I can go."

  There was a long silence. "Why didn't you tell me?" asked the old man."There would have been some way, if I had only known."

  "I don't know, Daddy. I think I've been waiting for this way, for it'sthe best way, after all. When I can walk and you can see, we'll go downtogether, shall we?"

  "Yes, dear, surely."

  "You must help me be patient, Daddy. It will be so hard for me to liehere, doing nothing."

  "I wish I could read to you."

  "You can talk to me, and that's better. Roger will come over some dayand read to me, when he has time."

  "He was with me yesterday, while----"

  "I know," she answered, softly. "I asked him. I thought it would make iteasier for you."

  [Sidenote: Father and Daughter]

  "My baby! You thought of your old father even then?"

  "I'm always thinking of you, Daddy, because you and I are all each otherhas got. That sounds queer, but you know what I mean."

  The calm, strong young woman in blue and white came back into the room."She mustn't talk," she said, to the blind man. "To-morrow, perhaps.Come away now."

  "Don't take him away from me," pleaded Barbara. "We'll be very good andnot say a single word, won't we?"

  "Not a word," he answered, "if it isn't best."

  [Sidenote: Peaceful Sleep]

  The afternoon wore away to sunset, the shadows grew long, and Barbaralay quietly, with her little hand in his. Long lines of light came overthe hills and brought into the room some subtle suggestion of colour.Gradually, the pain came back, so keenly that it was not to be borne,and the kind woman with the bit of silver in her hand leaned over thebed once more. Quickly, the poppies brought their divine gift of peaceagain. And so, Barbara slept.

  Then Ambrose North gently loosened the still fingers that wereinterlaced with his, bent over, and, so gently as not to waken her, tookher boy-lover's kiss from her lips.