April Hopes

by William Dean Howells

  XXVII.

  Mavering first woke in the morning with the mechanical recurrence ofthat shame and grief which each day had brought him since Alice refusedhim. Then with a leap of the heart came the recollection of all thathad happened yesterday. Yet lurking within his rapture was a mysteryof regret: a reasonless sense of loss, as if the old feeling had beensomething he would have kept. Then this faded, and he had only thelonging to see her, to realise in her presence and with her help thefact that she was his. An unspeakable pride filled him, and a joy inher love. He tried to see some outward vision of his bliss in the glass;but, like the mirror which had refused to interpret his tragedy in thePortland restaurant, it gave back no image of his transport: his facelooked as it always did, and he and the refection laughed at each other:

  He asked himself how soon he could go and see her. It was now seveno'clock: eight would be too early, of course--it would be ridiculous;and nine--he wondered if he might go to see her at nine. Would they havedone breakfast? Had he any right to call before ten? He was miserable atthe thought of waiting till ten: it would be three hours. He thought ofpretexts--of inviting her to go somewhere, but that was absurd, for hecould see her at home all day if he liked; of carrying her a book, butthere could be no such haste about a book; of going to ask if he hadleft his cane, but why should he be in such a hurry for his cane? All atonce he thought he could take her some flowers--a bouquet to lay besideher plate at breakfast. He dramatised himself charging the servant whoshould take it from him at the door not to say who left it; but Alicewould know, of course, and they would all know; it would be very pretty.He made Mrs. Pasmer say some flattering things of him; and he made Aliceblush deliciously to hear them. He could not manage Mr. Pasmer verywell, and he left him out of the scene: he imagined him shaving inanother room; then he remembered his wearing a full beard.

  He dressed himself as quickly as he could, and went down into the hotelvestibule, where he had noticed people selling flowers the eveningbefore, but there was no one there with them now, and none of theflorists' shops on the street were open yet. He could not find anythingtill he went to the Providence Depot, and the man there had to take someof his yesterday's flowers out of the refrigerator where he kept them;he was not sure they would be very fresh; but the heavy rosebuds hadfallen open, and they were superb. Dan took all there were, and whenthey had been sprinkled with water, and wrapped in cotton batting, andtied round with paper, it was still only quarter of eight, and heleft them with the man till he could get his breakfast at the Depotrestaurant. There it had a consoling effect of not being so early; manypeople were already breakfasting, and when Dan said, with his order,"Hurry it up, please," he knew that he was taken for a passenger justarrived or departing. By a fantastic impulse he ordered eggs and baconagain; he felt, it a fine derision of the past and a seal of triumphupon the present to have the same breakfast after his acceptance as hehad ordered after his rejection; he would tell Alice about it, and itwould amuse her. He imagined how he would say it, and she would laugh;but she would be full of a ravishing compassion for his past suffering.They were long bringing the breakfast; when it came he despatched it soquickly that it was only half after eight when he paid his check at thecounter. He tried to be five minutes more getting his flowers, but theman had them all ready for him, and it did not take him ten seconds. Hehad said he would carry them at half-past nine; but thinking it overon a bench in the Garden, he decided that he had better go sooner; theymight breakfast earlier, and there would be no fun if Alice did not findthe roses beside her plate: that was the whole idea. It was not till hestood at the door of the Pasmer apartment that he reflected that he wasnot accomplishing his wish to see Alice by leaving her those flowers; hewas a fool, for now he would have to postpone coming a little, becausehe had already come.

  The girl who answered the bell did not understand the charge he gave herabout the roses, and he repeated his words. Some one passing throughthe room beyond seemed to hesitate and pause at the sound of his voice.Could it be Alice? Then he should see her, after all! The girl lookedover her shoulder, and said, "Mrs. Pasmer."

  Mrs. Pasmer came forward, and he fell into a complicated explanation andapology. At the end she said, "You had better give them yourself. Shewill be here directly." They were in the room now, and Mrs. Pasmer madethe time pass in rapid talk; but Dan felt that he ought to apologisefrom time to time. "No!" she said, letting herself go. "Stay andbreakfast with us, Mr. Mavering. We shall be so glad to have you."

  At last Alice came in, and they decorously shook hands. Mrs. Pasmerturned away a smile at their decorum. "I will see that there's a placefor you," she said, leaving them.

  They were instantly in each other's arms. It seemed to him that all thishad happened because he had so strongly wished it.

  "What is it, Dan? What did you come for?" she asked.

  "To see if it was really true, Alice. I couldn't believe it."

  "Well--let me go--you mustn't--it's too silly. Of course it's true."She pulled herself free. "Is my hair tumbled? You oughtn't to have come;it's ridiculous; but I'm glad you came. I've been thinking it all over,and I've got a great many things to say to you. But come to breakfastnow."

  She had a business-like way of treating the situation that was moreintoxicating than sentiment would have been, and gave it more actuality.

  Mrs. Pasmer was alone at the table, and explained that Alice's fathernever breakfasted with them, or very seldom. "Where are your flowers?"she asked Alice.

  "Flowers? What flowers?"

  "That Mr. Mavering brought."

  They all looked at one another. Dan ran out and brought in his roses.

  "They were trying to get away in the excitement, I guess, Mrs. Pasmer;I found them behind the door." He had flung them there, without knowingit, when Mrs. Pasmer left him with Alice.

  He expected her to join him and her mother in being amused at this, buthe was as well pleased to have her touched at his having brought them,and to turn their gaiety off in praise of the roses. She got a vase forthem, and set it on the table. He noticed for the first time the prettyhouse-dress she had on, with its barred corsage and under-skirt, and theheavy silken rope knotted round it at the waist, and dropping in heavytufts or balls in front.

  The breakfast was Continental in its simplicity, and Mrs. Pasmer saidthat they had always kept up their Paris habit of a light breakfast,even in London, where it was not so easy to follow foreign customs as itwas in America. She was afraid he might find it too light. Then he toldall about his morning's adventure, ending with his breakfast at theProvidence Depot. Mrs. Pasmer entered into the fun of it, but she saidit was for only once in a way, and he must not expect to be let in ifhe came at that hour another morning. He said no; he understood what anextraordinary piece of luck it was for him to be there; and he was thereto be bidden to do whatever they wished. He said so much in recognitionof their goodness, that he became abashed by it. Mrs. Pasmer sat at thehead of the table, and Alice across it from him, so far off that sheseemed parted from him by an insuperable moral distance. A warm flushseemed to rise from his heart into his throat and stifle him. He wishedto shed tears. His eyes were wet with grateful happiness in answeringMrs. Pasmer that he would not have any more coffee. "Then," she said,"we will go into the drawing-room;" but she allowed him and Alice to goalone.

  He was still in that illusion of awe and of distance, and he submittedto the interposition of another table between their chairs.

  "I wish to talk with you," she said, so seriously that he wasfrightened, and said to himself: "Now she is going to break it off. Shehas thought it over, and she finds she can't endure me."

  "Well?" he said huskily.

  "You oughtn't to have come here, you know, this morning."

  "I know it," he vaguely conceded. "But I didn't expect to get in."

  "Well, now you're here, we may as well talk. You must tell your familyat once."

  "Yes; I'm going to write to them as soon as I get back to my room. Icouldn't last nigh
t."

  "But you mustn't write; you must go--and prepare their minds."

  "Go?" he echoed. "Oh, that isn't necessary! My father knew about it fromthe beginning, and I guess they've all talked it over. Their mindsare prepared." The sense of his immeasurable superiority to any one'sopposition began to dissipate Dan's unnatural awe; at the pleading facewhich Alice put on, resting one cheek against the back of one of herclasped hands, and leaning on the table with her elbows, he began to beteased by that silken rope round her waist.

  "But you don't understand, dear," she said; and she said "dear" as ifthey were old married people. "You must go to see them, and tell them;and then some of them must come to see me--your father and sisters."

  "Why, of course." His eye now became fastened to one of the fluffysilken balls.

  "And then mamma and I must go to see your mother, mustn't we?"

  "It'll be very nice of you--yes. You know she can't come to you."

  "Yes, that's what I thought, and--What are you looking at?" she drewherself back from the table and followed the direction of his eye with awoman's instinctive apprehension of disarray.

  He was ashamed to tell. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking."

  "What?"

  "Well, I don't know. That it seems so strange any one else should haveany to do with it--my family and yours. But I suppose they must. Yes,it's all right."

  "Why, of course. If your family didn't like it--"

  "It wouldn't make any difference to me," said Dan resolutely.

  "It would to me," she retorted, with tender reproach. "Do you suppose itwould be pleasant to go into a family that didn't like you? Suppose papaand mamma didn't like you?"

  "But I thought they did," said Mavering, with his mind still partly onthe rope and the fluffy ball, but keeping his eyes away.

  "Yes, they do," said Alice. "But your family don't know me at all; andyour father's only seen me once. Can't you understand? I'm afraid wedon't look at it seriously enough--earnestly--and oh, I do wish to haveeverything done as it should be! Sometimes, when I think of it, itmakes me tremble. I've been thinking about it all the morning,and--and--praying."

  Dan wanted to fall on his knees to her. The idea of Alice in prayer wasfascinating.

  "I wish our life to begin with others, and not with ourselves. If we'reintrusted with so much happiness, doesn't it mean that we're to do goodwith it--to give it to others as if it were money?"

  The nobleness of this thought stirred Dan greatly; his eyes wanderedback to the silken rope; but now it seemed to him an emblem of voluntarysuffering and self-sacrifice, like a devotee's hempen girdle. Heperceived that the love of this angelic girl would elevate him andhallow his whole life if he would let it. He answered her, fervently,that he would be guided by her in this as in everything; that he knewhe was selfish, and he was afraid he was not very good; but it was notbecause he had not wished to be so; it was because he had not had anyincentive. He thought how much nobler and better this was than the talkhe had usually had with girls. He said that of course he would go homeand tell his people; he saw now that it would make them happier if theycould hear it directly from him. He had only thought of writing becausehe could not bear to think of letting a day pass without seeing her; butif he took the early morning train he could get back the same night,and still have three hours at Ponkwasset Falls, and he would go the nextday, if she said so.

  "Go to-day, Dan," she said, and she stretched out her hand impressivelyacross the table toward him. He seized it with a gush of tenderness, andthey drew together in their resolution to live for others. He said hewould go at once. But the next train did not leave till two o'clock, andthere was plenty of time. In the meanwhile it was in the accomplishmentof their high aims that they sat down on the sofa together and talked oftheir future; Alice conditioned it wholly upon his people's approvalof her, which seemed wildly unnecessary to Mavering, and amused himimmensely.

  "Yes," she said, "I know you will think me strange in a great manythings; but I shall never keep anything from you, and I'm going to tellyou that I went to matins this morning."

  "To matins?" echoed Dan. He would not quite have liked her a Catholic;he remembered with relief that she had said she was not a RomanCatholic; though when he came to think, he would not have cared a greatdeal. Nothing could have changed her from being Alice.

  "Yes, I wished to consecrate the first morning of our engagement; andI'm always going. I determined that I would go before breakfast--thatwas what made breakfast so late. Don't you like it?" she asked timidly.

  "Like it!" he said. "I'm going with you:"

  "Oh no!" she turned upon him. "That wouldn't do." She became graveagain. "I'm glad you approve of it, for I should feel that there wassomething wanting to our happiness. If marriage is a sacrament, whyshouldn't an engagement be?"

  "It is," said Dan, and he felt that it was holy; till then he had neverrealised that marriage was a sacrament, though he had often heard thephrase.

  At the end of an hour they took a tender leave of each other, hastenedby the sound of Mrs. Pasmer's voice without. Alice escaped from one doorbefore her mother entered by the other. Dan remained, trying to lookunconcerned, but he was sensible of succeeding so poorly that he thoughthe had better offer his hand to Mrs. Pasmer at once. He told her that hewas going up to Ponkwasset Falls at two o'clock, and asked her to pleaseremember him to Mr. Pasmer.

  She said she would, and asked him if he were to be gone long.

  "Oh no; just overnight--till I can tell them what's happened." He feltit a comfort to be trivial with Mrs. Pasmer, after bracing up to Alice'sideals. "I suppose they'll have to know."

  "What an exemplary son!" said Mrs. Pasmer. "Yes, I suppose they will."

  "I supposed it would be enough if I wrote, but Alice thinks I'd betterreport in person."

  "I think you had, indeed! And it will be a good thing for you both tohave the time for clarifying your ideas. Did she tell you she had beenat matins this morning?" A light of laughter trembled in Mrs. Pasmer'seyes, and Mavering could not keep a responsive gleam out of his own. Inan instant the dedication of his engagement by morning prayer ceased tobe a high and solemn thought, and became deliciously amusing; and thislaughing Alice over with her mother did more to realise the fact thatshe was his than anything else had yet done.

  In that dark passage outside he felt two arms go tenderly round hisneck; and a soft shape strain itself to his heart. "I know you have beenlaughing about me. But you may. I'm yours now, even to laugh at, if youwant."

  "You are mine to fall down and worship," he vowed, with an instantrevulsion of feeling.

  Alice didn't say anything; he felt her hand fumbling about his coatlapel. "Where is your breast pocket?" she asked; and he took hold of herhand, which left a carte-de-visite-shaped something in his.

  "It isn't very good," she murmured, as well as she could, with her lipsagainst his cheek, "but I thought you'd like to show them some proof ofmy existence. I shall have none of yours while you're gone."

  "O Alice! you think of everything!"

  His heart was pierced by the soft reproach implied in her words; he hadnot thought to ask her for her photograph, but she had thought to giveit; she must have felt it strange that he had not asked for it, and shehad meant to slip it in his pocket and let him find it there. But evenhis pang of self-upbraiding was a part of his transport. He seemed tofloat down the stairs; his mind was in a delirious whirl. "I shall gomad," he said to himself in the excess of his joy--"I shall die!"