her cart and drove offalone. The others thought she was concerned over the possible resultof the election, and did not want to disturb them by her anxiety.Winthrop, thinking the presence of Schwab embarrassed her, recalling asit did Peabody's unfortunate conduct of the morning, blamed himself forbringing Schwab to the house. But he need not have distressed himself.Miss Forbes was thinking neither of Schwab nor Peabody, nor was sheworried or embarrassed. On the contrary, she was completely happy.
When that morning she had seen Peabody running up the steps of theElevated, all the doubts, the troubles, questions, and misgivings thatnight and day for the last three months had upset her, fell from hershoulders like the pilgrim's heavy pack. For months she had beentelling herself that the unrest she felt when with Peabody was due toher not being able to appreciate the importance of those big affairs inwhich he was so interested; in which he was so admirable a figure. Shehad, as she supposed, loved him, because he was earnest, masterful,intent of purpose. His had seemed a fine character. When she hadcompared him with the amusing boys of her own age, the easy-goingjoking youths to whom the betterment of New York was of no concern, shehad been proud in her choice. She was glad Peabody was ambitious. Shewas ambitious for him. She was glad to have him consult her on thosequestions of local government, to listen to his fierce, contemptuousabuse of Tammany. And yet early in their engagement she had missedsomething, something she had never known, but which she felt sureshould exist. Whether she had seen it in the lives of others, or readof it in romances, or whether it was there because it was nature todesire to be loved, she did not know. But long before Winthropreturned from his trip round the world, in her meetings with the manshe was to marry, she had begun to find that there was somethinglacking. And Winthrop had shown her that this something lacking wasthe one thing needful. When Winthrop had gone abroad he was only oneof her brother's several charming friends. One of the amusing merryyouths who came and went in the house as freely as Sam himself. Now,after two years' absence, he refused to be placed in that category.
He rebelled on the first night of his return. As she came down to thedinner of welcome her brother was giving Winthrop, he stared at her asthough she were a ghost, and said, so solemnly that every one in theroom, even Peabody, smiled: "Now I know why I came home." That herefused to recognize her engagement to Peabody, that on every occasionhe told her, or by some act showed her, he loved her; that he swore sheshould never marry any one but himself, and that he would never marryany one but her, did not at first, except to annoy, in any way impressher.
But he showed her what in her intercourse with Peabody was lacking. Atfirst she wished Peabody could find time to be as fond of her, asfoolishly fond of her, as was Winthrop. But she realized that this wasunreasonable. Winthrop was just a hot-headed impressionable boy,Peabody was a man doing a man's work. And then she found that weekafter week she became more difficult to please. Other things in whichshe wished Peabody might be more like Winthrop, obtruded themselves.Little things which she was ashamed to notice, but which rankled; andbig things, such as consideration for others, and a sense of humor, andnot talking of himself. Since this campaign began, at times she hadfelt that if Peabody said "I" once again, she must scream. She assuredherself she was as yet unworthy of him, that her intelligence was weak,that as she grew older and so better able to understand seriousaffairs, such as the importance of having an honest man at Albany asLieutenant-Governor, they would become more in sympathy. And now, at astroke, the whole fabric of self-deception fell from her. It was notthat she saw Peabody so differently, but that she saw herself and herown heart, and where it lay. And she knew that "Billy" Winthrop,gentle, joking, selfish only in his love for her, held it in his twostrong hands.
For the moment, when as she sat in the car deserted by Peabody thistruth flashed upon her, she forgot the man lying injured in the street,the unscrubbed mob crowding about her. She was conscious only that agreat weight had been lifted. That her blood was flowing again,leaping, beating, dancing through her body. It seemed as though shecould not too quickly tell Winthrop. For both of them she had lost outof their lives many days. She had risked losing him for always. Heronly thought was to make up to him and to herself the wasted time. Butthroughout the day the one-time welcome, but now intruding, friends andthe innumerable conventions of hospitality required her to smile andshow an interest, when her heart and mind were crying out the one greatfact.
It was after dinner, and the members of the house party were scatteredbetween the billiard-room and the piano. Sam Forbes returned from thetelephone.
"Tammany," he announced, "concedes the election of Jerome by fortythousand votes, and that he carries his ticket with him. ErnestPeabody is elected his Lieutenant-Governor by a thousand votes.Ernest," he added, "seems to have had a close call." There was atremendous chorus of congratulations in the cause of Reform. Theydrank the health of Peabody. Peabody himself, on the telephone,informed Sam Forbes that a conference of the leaders would prevent hisbeing present with them that evening. The enthusiasm for Reformperceptibly increased.
An hour later Winthrop came over to Beatrice and held out his hand."I'm going to slip away," he said. "Good-night."
"Going away!" exclaimed Beatrice. Her voice showed such apparentlyacute concern that Winthrop wondered how the best of women could be sodeceitful, even to be polite.
"I promised some men," he stammered, "to drive them down-town to seethe crowds."
Beatrice shook her head.
"It's far too late for that," she said. "Tell me the real reason."
Winthrop turned away his eyes.
"Oh! the real reason," he said gravely, "is the same old reason, theone I'm not allowed to talk about. It's cruelly hard when I don't seeyou," he went on, slowly dragging out the words, "but it's harder whenI do; so I'm going to say 'good-night' and run into town."
He stood for a moment staring moodily at the floor, and then droppedinto a chair beside her.
"And, I believe, I've not told you," he went on, "that on Wednesday I'mrunning away for good, that is, for a year or two. I've made all thefight I can and I lose, and there is no use in my staying on hereto--well--to suffer, that is the plain English of it. So," hecontinued briskly, "I won't be here for the ceremony, and this is'good-by' as well as 'good-night.'"
"Where are you going for a year?" asked Miss Forbes.
Her voice now showed no concern. It even sounded as though she did nottake his news seriously, as though as to his movements she waspossessed of a knowledge superior to his own. He tried to speak inmatter-of-fact tones.
"To Uganda!" he said.
"To Uganda?" repeated Miss Forbes. "Where is Uganda?"
"It is in East Africa; I had bad luck there last trip, but now I knowthe country better, and I ought to get some good shooting."
Miss Forbes appeared indifferently incredulous. In her eyes there wasa look of radiant happiness. It rendered them bewilderingly beautiful.
"On Wednesday," she said. "Won't you come and see us again before yousail for Uganda?"
Winthrop hesitated.
"I'll stop in and say 'good-by' to your mother if she's in town, and tothank her. She's been awfully good to me. But you--I really wouldrather not see you again. You understand, or rather, you don'tunderstand, and," he added vehemently, "you never will understand." Hestood looking down at her miserably.
On the driveway outside there was a crunching on the gravel of heavywheels and an aurora-borealis of lights.
"There's your car," said Miss Forbes. "I'll go out and see you off."
"You're very good," muttered Winthrop. He could not understand. Thisparting from her was the great moment in his life, and although shemust know that, she seemed to be making it unnecessarily hard for him.He had told her he was going to a place very far away, to be gone along time, and she spoke of saying "good-by" to him as pleasantly asthough it was his intention to return from Uganda for breakfast.
Instead of walking throu
gh the hall where the others were gathered, sheled him out through one of the French windows upon the terrace, andalong it to the steps. When she saw the chauffeur standing by the car,she stopped.
"I thought you were going alone," she said.
"I am," answered Winthrop. "It's not Fred; that's Sam's chauffeur; heonly brought the car around."
The man handed Winthrop his coat and cap, and left them, and Winthropseated himself at the wheel. She stood above him on the top step. Inthe evening gown of lace and silver she looked a part of the moonlightnight. For each of them the moment had arrived.
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