CHAPTER XXIII
An hour or so later Galusha, sitting, forlorn and miserable, upon theflat, damp and cold top of an ancient tomb in the old Baptist buryingground, was startled to feel a touch upon his shoulder. He jumped,turned and saw his cousin smiling down at him.
"Well, Loosh," hailed the banker, "at your old tricks, aren't you? Inthe cemetery and perfectly happy, I suppose. No 'Hark from the tombs,a doleful sound' in years, eh?... Hum! You don't look very happy thistime, though." Then, with a comprehensive glance at the surroundings, heshrugged and added, "Heavens, no wonder!"
The picture was a dismal one on that particular day. The sky wasovercast and gray, with a distinct threat of rain. The sea was gray andcold and cheerless. The fields were bare and bleak and across themmoved a damp, chill, penetrating breeze. From horizon to horizon not abreathing creature, except themselves, was visible. And in the immediateforeground were the tumbled, crumbling memorials of the dead.
"Heavens, what a place!" repeated Cabot. "It's enough to give anybodythe mulligrubs. Why in the world do you come over here and--and go toroost by yourself? Do you actually LIKE it?"
Galusha sighed. "Sometimes I like it," he said. Then, sliding over onthe tomb top, he added, "Won't you--ah--sit down, Cousin Gussie?"
His relative shook his head. "No, I'll be hanged if I do!" he declared;"not on that thing. Come over and sit on the fence. I want to talk toyou."
He led the way to a section of the rail fence which, although rickety,was still standing. He seated himself upon the upper rail and Galushaclambered up and perched beside him. The banker's first question wasconcerning the six hundred and fifty shares of Development stock.
"I know you gave the Phipps woman par for hers," he said. "You told meso and so did she. Did you pay old Whiskers--Hallett, I mean--the sameprice?"
Galusha shook his head. "I--ah--was obliged to pay him a little more,"he said. "His--ah--wife insisted upon it."
"His wife? I thought his wife was dead."
"Yes--ah--she is. Yes, indeed, quite so."
When this matter was satisfactorily explained Cousin Gussie asked ifGalusha would be willing to sell his recently purchased shares at theprice paid. Of course Galusha would.
"I should be very glad to make you a present of them, Cousin Gussie," hesaid, listlessly. "I do not care for them, really."
"I don't doubt that, but you won't do anything of the kind. As a matterof fact, your buying those shares and taking them out of the marketwas a mighty good thing for us. That Trust Company crowd was gettinganxious, so the Phipps woman says. By the way, I will send her a checkat once for her shares and she will hand it over to you. She was verymuch disturbed because you had--as she called it--given her that fivethousand dollars."
Galusha nodded sadly. "Of course," he said. "It was a--a very dreadfulthing to do. Oh, dear!"
His relative, who was watching him intently, smiled. "She and I have hada long talk," he continued. "She couldn't understand about you, howyou could have so much money to--er--waste in that way. I gatheredshe feared you might have impoverished yourself, or pledged the familyjewels, or something. And she plainly will not be easy one moment untilshe has paid you. She is a very extraordinary woman, Loosh."
His companion did not answer. His gaze was fixed upon a winged death'shead on a battered slate gravestone near at hand. The death's head wasgrinning cheerfully, but Galusha was not.
"I say she is remarkable, that Phipps woman," repeated Cousin Gussie.The little man stirred uneasily upon the fence rail.
"Her--ah--name is Martha--Martha Phipps--ah--MISS Martha Phipps," hesuggested, with a slight accent upon the "Miss." The banker's smilebroadened.
"Apologies, Galusha," he said, "to her--and to you." He turned and gazedsteadily down at his relative's bowed head.
"Loosh," he said.
"Eh?" Galusha looked up. "Eh? Did you speak?" he asked.
"I did. No, don't look at that gravestone, look at me. Say, Loosh, whydid you do it?"
"Eh?... I beg pardon.... Why did I... You mean why did I--ah--buy thestock--and--and--"
"Of course. Why did you? Oh, I know she was hard up and feared shecouldn't keep her home and all that; she has told me her story. And sheis a good woman and you were sorry for her. But, my boy, to take fivethousand dollars--even for YOU to take five thousand cold, hard, legaltender dollars and toss them away for something which, so far as youknew, was not worth five cents--that argues a little more than sympathy,doesn't it? And when you add eight thousand more of those dollars to theoriginal five, then--Why did you do it, Loosh?"
Galusha's gaze fell. He looked solemnly at the battered cherub upon thegravestone and the cherub's grin was broad.
"I bought Captain Hallett's stock," he explained, "because I did notwish Miss Mar--Miss Phipps to know that I had lied--and all the rest."
"Yes, yes, so you said. But why did you lie, Loosh? Why didn't youtell her that you couldn't sell her stock for her? She would havebeen disappointed, of course, but she would have understood; she is asensible woman."
Galusha, apparently, was considering the matter. It was a perceptibleinterval before he answered.
"I don't know, Cousin Gussie," he confessed, after the interval wasover. "Really, I don't know. I think I felt, as I told you last night,as if I had encouraged her to believe I should surely sell her sharesand--and that, therefore, I would be responsible for her disappointment.And I--well, really, I simply could not face the thought of thatdisappointment and all it would mean to her. I could not, indeed, no. Isuppose you consider it quite extraordinary, my feeling that so acutely.Dear me, I suppose most people would. But I felt it. And I should do thesame thing again, I know I should."
"For her, you mean?"
"Yes--yes, of course, for her."
"Humph! Say, Loosh, may I ask you a purely personal question? Will youpromise not to be offended if I do?"
"Eh? Why, of course, Cousin Gussie. Of course. Dear me, ask anything youlike."
"All right. Loosh, are you in love with Miss Phipps?"
Galusha started so violently as to throw him off his balance upon thefence rail. He slid forward until his feet touched the ground. Hiscoat-tails, however, caught upon a projecting knot and the garmentremained aloft, a crumpled bundle, between his shoulder blades and theback of his neck. He was not aware of it. His face expressed only oneemotion, great astonishment. And as his cousin watched, that expressionslowly changed to bewilderment and dawning doubt.
"Well, how about it?" queried Cabot. "Are you in love with her, Loosh?"
Galusha's mouth opened. "Why--good gracious!" he gasped. "Dearme--ah--Why--why, I don't know."
The banker had expected almost any sort of reply, except that.
"You don't KNOW!" he repeated.
"No, I--I don't. I--I never thought of such a thing."
Cousin Gussie slowly shook his head.
"Loosh," he declared, "you are superb; do you realize it? So you don'tknow whether you are in love with her or not. Well, put it this way:Would you like to marry her, have her for your wife, live with her forthe rest of your days?"
Galusha considered this astounding proposition, but only for thebriefest possible moment. His gentle, dreamy, wistful countenance seemedalmost to light up from within. His answer was given in one breath andas if entirely without conscious volition.
"Oh, very much," he said, in a low tone. "Oh, yes, very much."
The Boston banker had been on the point of laughing when he asked thequestion. But he did not laugh. He whistled instead. Then he smiled, butit was not a smile of ridicule.
Jumping from the fence rail, he laid a hand on his relative's shoulder.
"Well, by Jove!" he exclaimed. "Forgive me, old man, will you? I had noidea you were taking it so seriously. I... Well, by Jove!"
Galusha did not speak. The same queer ecstatic brightness was upon hisface and he was looking now, not at the grinning cherub, but at thedistant horizon line of gray-green ocean and slate-gray sky. Cabot'sgri
p on his shoulder tightened.
"So you really want to marry her," he said.... "Humph!... Well, I'll behanged! Loosh, you--you--well, you certainly can surprise a fellow whenyou really make a business of it."
The brightness was fading from Galusha's face. He sighed, removed hisspectacles, and seemed to descend from the clouds. He sighed again, andthen smiled his faint smile.
"Dear me," he said, "how ridiculous it was, wasn't it? You like a joke,don't you, Cousin Gussie?"
"Was it a joke, Loosh? You didn't look nor speak like a joker."
"Eh? Oh, yes, it was a joke, of course. Is it likely that a woman likethat would marry ME?"
Again he astonished his relative into turning and staring at him. "Marryyou?" he cried. "SHE marry YOU? For heaven's sake, you don't imaginethere is any doubt that she would marry you if you asked her to, doyou?"
"Why, of course. Why should she?"
"Why SHOULD she? Why shouldn't she jump at the chance, you mean!"
"Oh--oh, no, I don't. No, indeed. You are joking again, Cousin Gussie,of course you are. Women don't like me; they laugh at me, they alwayshave, you know. I don't blame them. Very often I laugh at myself. I ameccentric. I'm 'queer'; that is what every one says I am--queer. I don'tseem to think just as other people do, or--or to be able to dress asthey do--or--ah--oh, dear, everything. It used to trouble me a good dealwhen I was young. I used to try, you know--ah--try very hard not to bequeer. I hated being queer. But it wasn't any use, so at last I gaveup trying. My kind of queerness is something one can't get over,apparently; it's a sort of incurable disease. Dear me, yes, quiteincurable."
He had moved forward and his coat-tails had fallen into their normalposition, so the "queerness" of his outward appearance was modified;but, as he stood there, with his puzzled, wistful expression, slowlyand impersonally picking himself to pieces, so to speak, Cabot feltan overwhelming rush of pity for him, pity and a sort of indignantimpatience.
"Oh, shut up, Galusha!" he snapped. "Don't be so confoundedly absurd.You are one of the cleverest men in the world in your line. You aredistinguished. You are brilliant. If you were as queer as Dick'shatband--whatever that is--it would make no difference; you have a rightto be. And when you tell me that a woman--yes, almost any woman, to saynothing of one lost down here in these sand-hills--wouldn't marry you ina minute, you're worse than queer--you're crazy, absolutely crazy."
"But--but Cousin Gussie, you forget. If there were no other reasons, youforget what I have done. She could never believe in me again. No, norforgive me."
"Oh, DON'T! You disturb my digestion. Do you suppose there is a woman onearth who wouldn't forgive a man who gave up thirteen thousand dollarsjust to help her out of a difficulty? Gave it up, as you did, without awhimper or even a whisper? And whose one worry has been that she mightfind out the truth about his weird generosity? Oh, Loosh, Loosh, you AREcrazy."
Galusha made no attempt to deny the charge of insanity. He was thinkingrapidly now and his face expressed his thought.
"Do you--do you really think she might forgive me?" he asked,breathlessly.
"Think! Why, she and I had a long talk just before I came over here.She thinks you are the best and most wonderful man on earth and allshe feared was that you had taken your last cent, or even borrowed themoney, to come to her rescue. When I told her you were worth a quarterof a million, she felt better, but it didn't lessen her gratitude.Forgive you! Oh, good Lord!"
Galusha had heard only the first part of this speech. The ecstaticexpression was returning. He drew a long breath.
"I--I wonder if she really would consider such a thing?" he murmured.
"Consider what? Marriage? Well, I should say she wouldn't take much timefor consideration. She'll jump at it, I tell you. You are the one toconsider, old man. You are rich, and famous. Yes, and, although I havenever pinned quite as much faith to the 'family' idea as most of ourpeople do, still we have a sort of tradition to keep up, you know.Now this--er--Miss Phipps is all right, no doubt; her people were goodpeople, doubtless, but--well, some of our feminine second and thirdcousins will make remarks, Galusha. They surely will."
Galusha did not even trouble to answer this speech. His cousincontinued.
"But that is your business, of course," he said. "And I honestly believethat in a good many ways she would make the ideal wife for you. She isnot bad looking, in a wholesome sort of way, she is competent and verypractical, has no end of common sense, and in all money matters shewould make the sort of manager you need. She... Say, look here, have youheard one word of all I have been saying for the last three minutes ?"
"Eh?... Oh, yes, indeed. Of course, quite so."
"I know better; you haven't."
"Yes--yes. That is, I mean no.... Pardon me, Cousin Gussie, I fear I wasnot paying attention.... I shall ask her. Yes, if--if you are QUITE sureshe has forgiven me, I shall ask her."
He started toward the cemetery gate as if he intended asking her atthe first possible moment. His cousin followed him, his expressionindicating a mixture of misgiving and amusement. Suddenly he laughedaloud. Galusha heard him and turned. His slight figure stiffenedperceptibly.
"I beg pardon," he said, after a moment. "Doubtless it is--ah--veryamusing, but I confess I do not quite see the joke."
Cabot laughed again.
"Is it--ah--so funny?" inquired Galusha. "It does not seem so to me."
The banker took him by the arm. "No offense, old chap," he said. "Funny?Of course it's funny. It's wildly funny. Do you know what I was justthinking? I was thinking of Aunt Clarissa. What do you suppose she wouldhave said to this?"
He shouted at the thought. Galusha joined him to the extent of a smile."She would have said it was just what she expected of me," he observed."Quite so--yes."
They walked on in silence for some time. Then Galusha stopped short.
"I have just thought of something," he said. "It--it MAY have someinfluence. She has often said she wished she might see Egypt. We couldgo together, couldn't we?"
Cousin Gussie roared again. "Of course you could," he declared. "AndI only wish I could go along. Loosh, you are more than superb. You aremagnificent."
He telephoned for his car and chauffeur and, soon after dinner, saidgood-by to his hostess and his cousin and prepared to start for Boston.The Sunday dinner was a bountiful one, well cooked, and he did justiceto it. Galusha, however, ate very little. He seemed to be not quitecertain whether he was at the table or somewhere in the clouds.
The chauffeur discovered that he had scarcely oil and gasolinesufficient for his hundred-mile trip and decided to drive to Trumet toobtain more. Cabot, who felt the need of exercise after his hearty meal,took a walk along the bluff edge as far as the point from which he couldinspect the property owned by the Development Company.
He was gone almost an hour. On his return he met Galusha walking slowlyalong the lane. The little man was without his overcoat, his hands wereclasped behind him and, although his eyes were open, he seemed tosee nothing, for he stumbled and staggered, sometimes in the road andsometimes in the dead weeds and briars beside it. He did not see hiscousin, either, until the latter spoke. Then he looked up and noddedrecognition.
"Oh!" he observed. "Yes, of course. Ah--How do you do?"
Cabot was looking him straight in the face.
"Loosh," he asked, sharply. "What is it? What is the matter?"
Galusha passed his hand across his forehead.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," he answered.
"Nonsense! You look as if--Well, you can't tell me nothing is wrong.ISN'T there something wrong?"
The saddest smile in all creation passed across Galusha's face."Why--why, yes," he said. "I suppose everything is wrong. I should haveexpected it to be, of course. I--I did, but--ah--for a little while Iwas--ah--foolish and--and hoped. It is quite all right, Cousin Gussie,absolutely so. She said it was--ah--impossible. Of course it is. She isquite right. Oh, quite."
Cabot caught his meaning. "Do you mean to say," he demanded, "
that youasked that--that Phipps woman to marry you and she REFUSED?"
"Eh? Oh, yes, she refused. I told you she would not think of such athing. That is exactly what she said; it was impossible, she could notthink of it."
"Well, confound her impudence!... Oh, all right, Galusha, all right. Ibeg your pardon--and hers. But, really--"
Galusha stopped him. "Cousin Gussie," he said, "if you don't mind Ithink I won't talk about it any more. You will excuse me, won't you?I shall be all right, quite all right--after I--ah--after a time, youknow."
"Where are you going now?"
"Eh? Oh, I don't know. Just somewhere, that's all. Good-by, CousinGussie."
He turned and walked on again, his hands clasped behind his back and hishead bent. Cabot watched him for several minutes, then, entirely uponimpulse and without stopping to consider, he began what was, as he saidafterwards, either the craziest or the most inspired performance ofhis life. He walked straight to the Phipps' gate and up the walk to thePhipps' door. His chauffeur called to him that the car was ready, but hedid not answer.
Primmie opened the door in answer to his knock. Yes, Miss Martha wasin the sitting room, she said. "But, my savin' soul, what are you doin'back here, Mr. Cabot? Has the automobile blowed up?"
He did not satisfy her curiosity. Instead, he knocked on the door of thesitting room and, when Miss Phipps called to him to come in, he obeyed,closing the door behind him. She was sitting by the window and hersewing was in her lap. Yet he was almost certain she had not beensewing. Her face was very grave and, although he could not seedistinctly, for the afternoon was cloudy and the room rather dark, itseemed to him that there was a peculiar look about her eyes. She, likeher maid, was surprised to see him again.
"Why, Mr. Cabot," she cried, rising, "what is it? Has somethinghappened?"
He plunged headfirst into the business that had brought him there. Itwas the sort of business which, if approached with cool deliberation,was extremely likely never to be transacted.
"Miss Phipps," he said, "I came back here on an impulse. I havesomething I want to say to you. In a way it isn't my affair at alland you will probably consider my mentioning it a piece of brazeninterference. But--well, there is a chance that my interfering now mayprevent a very serious mistake--a grave mistake for two people--so I amgoing to take the risk. Miss Phipps, I just met my cousin and he gave meto understand that you had refused his offer of marriage."
He paused, momentarily, but she did not speak. Her expression said agood many things, however, and he hurried on in order to have his saybefore she could have hers.
"I came here on my own responsibility," he explained. "Please don'tthink that he has the slightest idea I am here. He is, as you know, themildest person on earth, but I'm not at all sure he wouldn't shoot me ifhe knew what I came to say to you. Miss Phipps, if you possibly can doso I earnestly hope you will reconsider your answer to Galusha Bangs.He is very fond of you, he would make you a kind, generous husband, and,honestly, I think you are just the sort of wife he needs."
She spoke then, not as if she had meant to, but more as if the wordswere involuntarily forced from her by shock.
"You--you think I am the sort of wife he needs?" she gasped. "_I_?"
"Yes, you. Precisely the sort."
"For--for HIM. YOU think so?"
"Yes. Now, of course, if you do not--er--care for him, if you could notthink of him as a husband--oh, hang it, I don't know how to put it, butyou know what I mean. If you don't WANT to marry him then that is yourbusiness altogether and you are right in saying no. But if you SHOULDcare for him and refused him because you may have thought there wasany--er--unsuitability--er--unfitness--oh, the devil, I don't know whatto call it--if you thought there was too large an element of that in thematch, then I beg of you to reconsider, that's all. He needs you."
"Needs me? Needs ME?... Oh--oh, you must be crazy!"
"Not a bit of it. He needs you. You have all the qualities, commonsense, practicability, everything he hasn't got. It is for his sake I'masking this, Miss Phipps. I truly believe you have the making or marringof his future in your hands--now. That is why I hope you will--well,change your mind.... There! I have said it. Thank you for listening.Good-day."
He turned to the door. She spoke once more. "Oh, you MUST be jokin'!"she cried. "How CAN you say such things? His people--his family--"
"Family? Oh... well, I'll tell you the truth about that. When hewas young he had altogether too much family. Now he hasn't any,really--except myself, and I have expressed my opinion. Good-by, MissPhipps."
He went out. Martha slowly went back to her rocking-chair and sat down.A moment later she heard the roar of the engine as the Cabot car gotunder way. The sound died away in the distance. Martha rose and wentup the stairs to her own room. There she sat down once more andthought--and thought.
Some time later she heard her lodger's footstep--how instantly sherecognized it--in the hall and then in his bedroom. He was in that roombut a short time, then she heard him go down the stairs again. Perhapsten minutes afterward Primmie knocked. She wished permission to go downto the village.
"I just thought maybe I'd go down to the meetin' house," explainedPrimmie. "They're goin' to have a Sunday school concert this afternoonat four o'clock. Zach he said he was cal'latin' to go. And besides,Mr. Bangs he give me this letter to leave to the telegraph office, MissMartha."
"The telegraph office isn't open on Sundays, Primmie."
"No'm, I know 'tain't. But Ras Beebe he takes care of all the telegraphsthere is and telephones 'em over to Denboro, where the telegraph placeIS open Sundays."
"Oh, all right, Primmie, you may go. Is Mr. Bangs in?"
"No'm, he ain't. He's gone out somewheres. To walk, I cal'late. Last Isee of him he was moonin' along over towards the lighthouse way."
Primmie departed and Martha, alone in the gathering dimness of theafternoon, resumed her thinking. It was an endless round, that thinkingof hers--but, of course, it could end in but one way. Even to wish suchthings was wicked. For his sake, that was what Mr. Cabot had said. Ah,yes, but it was for his sake that she must remain firm.
A big drop of rain splashed, and exploded like a miniature waterybombshell, against the windowpane. Martha looked up. Then she becameaware of a faint tinkling in the room below. The telephone bell wasringing.
She hurried downstairs and put the receiver to her ear. It was Mr. Beebespeaking and he wished to ask something concerning a message which hadbeen left in his care by Primmie Cash.
"It's signed by that Mr. Galushy Bangs of yours," explained Erastus."I've got to 'phone it to the telegraph office and there's a word in itI can't make out. Maybe you could help me, Martha, long's Bangs isn'tthere. 'Tain't nothin' private, I don't cal'late. I'll read it to you ifyou want I should."
He began to read without waiting for permission. The message wasaddressed to the Board of Directors of the National Institute atWashington, D. C., and began like this:
"Deeply regret necessity of refusing your generous and flattering offerto lead--"
It was just here that Mr. Beebe's ability to decipher the Bangs'handwriting broke down.
"I can't make out the next word, Martha," he said. "It begins with anF, but the rest of it ain't nothin' but a string of kinks. It's all headand no tail, that word is."
"What does it look like?"
"Hey? Looks like a whiplash or an eel, more'n anything else. It might be'epizootic' or--or--'eclipsin''--or--The word after it ain't very plainneither, but I kind of think that it's 'expedition.'"
"'Expedition'? Is the word you can't make out 'Egyptian'?"
"Hey?... 'Egyptian?' Well, I snum, I guess 'tis! 'Egyptian.' . . .Humph! I never thought of that. I--"
"Read me the whole of that telegram, Erastus. Read it."
Mr. Beebe read it. "Deeply regret necessity of refusing your generousand flattering offer to lead Egyptian expedition. Do not feel equal tothe work. Decision final. Will write.--Galusha Bangs."
Martha's hand
shook as it held the receiver to her ear. He had refusedthe greatest honor of his life. He had declined to carry out thewonderful "plan" concerning which he and she had so often speculated....And she knew why he had refused.
"Erastus! Ras!" she called. "Hello, Ras! Hold that telegram. Don't sendit yet. Do you hear?"
Mr. Beebe's voice expressed his surprise. "Why, yes, Martha," he said,"I hear. But I don't know. You see, Mr. Bangs, he sent a note along withthe telegram sayin' he wanted it rushed."
"Never mind. You hold it until you hear from me again--or from him. Yes,I'll take all the responsibility. Erastus Beebe, don't you send thattelegram."
She hung up the receiver and hurried to the outer door. Galusha wasnowhere in sight. Then she remembered that Primmie had said he had gonetoward the lighthouse. She threw a knitted scarf over her shoulders,seized an umbrella from the rack--for the walk showed broad splasheswhere drops of rain had fallen--and started in search of him. She hadno definite plan. She was acting as entirely upon impulse as Cabothad acted in seeking their recent interview; but of one thing she wasdetermined--he should not wreck his career if she, in any way, couldprevent it.
She reached the gate of the government property, but she did not openit. She was certain he would not be in the light keeper's cottage; sheseemed to have an intuition as to where he was, and, turning, followedthe path along the edge of the bluff. She followed it for perhaps threehundred yards, then she saw him. He was sitting upon a knoll, his handsclasped about his knees. The early dusk of the gloomy afternoon wasrapidly closing in, the raindrops were falling more thickly, but he didnot seem to realize these facts, or, if he did, to care. He sat there, ahuddled little bundle of misery, and her heart went out to him.
He did not hear her approach. She came and stood beside him.
"Mr. Bangs," she said.
Then he looked up, saw her, and scrambled to his feet.
"Why--why, Miss Martha!" he exclaimed. "I did not see you--ah--hear you,I mean. What is it? Is anything wrong?"
She nodded. She found it very hard to speak and, when she did do so, hervoice was shaky.
"Yes," she said, "there is. Somethin' very wrong. Why did you telegraphthe Institute folks that you wouldn't accept their offer?... Oh, I foundit out. Ras Beebe couldn't get one word in your message and he read itto me over the 'phone. But that doesn't matter. That doesn't count. Whydid you refuse, Mr. Bangs?"
He put his hand to his forehead. "I--I am sorry if it troubled you,"he said. "I didn't mean for you to know it--ah--yet. I refusedbecause--well, because I did not care to accept. The--the whole thingdid not appeal to me, somehow. I have lost interest in it--ah--quite.Dear me, yes--quite."
"Lost interest! In Egypt? In such a wonderful chance as this gives you?Oh, you can't! You mustn't!"
He sighed and then smiled. "It does seem queer, doesn't it?" headmitted. "Yet it is quite true. I have lost interest. I don't seem tocare even for Egypt. Now that is very odd."
"But--but if you refuse this what WILL you do?"
He smiled again. "I don't know," he said. "I don't seem to care. But itis quite all right, Miss Martha. Really it is. I--I wouldn't have youthink--Oh, dear, no!"
"But what WILL you do? Tell me."
"I don't know. No doubt I shall do something. One has to do that, Isuppose. It is only that--" Then, as a new thought came to him, heturned to her in alarm. "Oh, of course," he cried, hastily, "I sha'n'tremain here. Please don't think I intend imposing upon you longer. Ishall go--ah--at once--to-morrow--ah almost immediately. You have beenextremely kind and long-suffering already and--and--"
She interrupted. "Don't!" she said, hurriedly. "Don't! Mr. Bangs, haveyou truly made up your mind not to go to Egypt with that expedition?Won't you PLEASE do it, if I beg you to?"
He slowly shook his head.
"It is like you," he said, "to take such an interest, but, if--if youdon't mind, I had rather not. I can't. Really, I--ah--can't. It--Well,the thought of it--ah--repels me. Please don't ask me, Miss Martha,because--I can't."
She hesitated. Then she said, "Would you go if I went with you?"
He had been looking, not at her, but at the sea. Now he slowly turned.
"Why--why--" he stammered. "Why, Miss--Oh, dear me, you don't--you can'tmean--"
She shook her head. "I suppose I mean anything," she said, "anythingthat will stop you from throwin' away your life work."
He was very pale and his eyes were fixed upon her face. "Do you mean--"he began, "do you mean you could--you would marry me?"
She shook her head again. "I think I must be crazy," she said,desperately. "I think we all must be, your cousin as well as the rest ofus. He came to me a little while ago and asked me to--to say yes to you.HE did! He, of all people! The--the very one that I--I--"
"Yes, yes, yes, of course." Galusha was trembling with eagerness. "Yes,of course. Cousin Gussie is an extraordinarily able man. He approves ofit highly. He told me so."
She scarcely heard him. "Oh, don't you see," she went on, "why it wouldbe wicked for me to think of such a thing? You are a great man, a famousman; you have been everywhere and seen everything; I haven't had anyreal education, any that counts besides yours; I haven't been anywhere;I am just a country old maid. Oh, you would be ashamed of me in amonth.... No, no, no, I mustn't. I won't."
"But, Miss Martha--"
"No. Oh, no!"
She turned away. Galusha had what was, for him, an amazing andunprecedented inspiration.
"Very well," he declared. "I shall go to--to the devil, I think. Yes, Iwill. I shall give away my money, all of it, and go to the devil."
It was absurd enough, but the absurdity of it did not strike either ofthem then.
"Oh, WON'T you go to Egypt?" she begged. "Won't you, PLEASE?"
He was firm. "No," he declared. "Not unless you go with me. Ah--ah--MissMartha, will you?"
She hesitated, wrung her hands--and surrendered. "Oh, I suppose I shallhave to," she said.
He did not dare believe it.
"But--but I don't want you to have to," he cried. "YOU mustn't marry mefor--for Egypt, Miss Martha. Of course, it is too much to ask; nodoubt it is quite impossible, but you--you mustn't marry me unless youreally--ah--want to."
And then a very astonishing thing happened. Martha turned to him, andtears were in her eyes.
"Oh," she cried, breathlessly, "do you suppose there is a woman in thisworld who wouldn't want to marry a man like YOU?"
Galusha the Magnificent Page 23
