The Cassowary; What Chanced in the Cleft Mountains
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CHAPTER XIV
A TEST OF ATTITUDE
What are they going to do, a man and a woman who have met and loved inthe past, and have separated conscientiously, when brought togetheragain under extraordinary circumstances, after each has felt that lovingand of real living had been denied, and endured it all for years? Whatis going to happen when, because of one of the accidents of life and ofone of the great accomplishing conditions, such two as this have been,once more, thrown, figuratively, into each other's arms?
This man had saved this woman's life yesterday, stumbling upon her afterall this separation, after he done a man's work in another hemisphereand had, disappointed with life, supposed the chapter closed. Now he wasto meet her at the breakfast table. What must be the demeanor of thesetwo toward each other now? Be assured neither of them knew, not even thewoman,--and in foreseeing as to such a situation a woman knows more, bysome instinct, than a man may learn in a thousand years.
She knew that they would meet that morning. That was the inevitable,after yesterday. Anything else would have been a foolish affectation. Heknew, as well, that he must go in to that breakfast table and sitopposite her and that then they must face together a situationdelicately psychological and dangerous and altogether fascinating--froma philosopher's point of view. It was not perhaps, quite so fascinatingto these two people with what we call conscience and the possession ofwhat makes the greatness of humanity, whether it appertain to man orwoman. There is no sex to nobility.
She was sitting there, divinely sweet, as he stalked in. She was sittingthere, divinely sweet, because she was made that way, and never didStafford realize it more. The years had taken from her gentle beauty notthe slightest toll.
She bloomed this fair morning--it was only moderately fair, by theway--as there entered the man who had saved her life the day before andwith whom in the past hers had been the closest understanding of herlife. To the eye she was merely placid and infinitely enchanting. Theman did not appear to such advantage. He entered blunderingly anddoubtful.
There were, of course, the usual expression of morning courtesies andthen they settled down to a fencing which was but a lovingness as vastas unexpressed. They talked of a variety of things but there was noallusion even so near as Saturn, to what was lying close against thehearts of both. We are rather fine but we are unexplainable sometimes,we men and women whom Nature made so curiously.
As a matter of fact, this one of the most forceful of men and one of themost sweet and desirable of women said practically nothing throughoutthe entire breakfast. They did not even refer to the grim incident ofthe dog and the grapple, which had been something worth while. Had thething been less they would have talked about it. But, to them, by anindefinable knowing, this matter was something too great to consider atthe present moment. And, so, unconsciously, understanding each other,they consigned themselves to ordinary table talk.
But we cannot always command lack of remembrance and get obedience.There is something better. Nature has her ways. One of her ways is tohave given us eyes, and how she did place us under her soft thumb whenshe did that!
They said very little, but they looked into each other's eyes. Theycouldn't help that very well. Then the laws of life worked themselvesout. It is a way they have.
What are you going to do with a woman's eyes? Inside the depths of awoman's eyes, lurking lovingly, sometimes, are all the revelations thatmust come when the time comes and reflect themselves into thelooking-glasses God provides to tell us of the thoughts of others. Thereare different women and different eyes, of course. We must take ourchances on that.
And, so as said, they did not even refer to the happenings of the daybefore or of any of the context of all that had occurred. They did notrefer to the great hound. They talked of nothing but of thingsincidental. She asked him when they would probably be released fromtheir snow imprisonment and he told her that it would be within twodays.
And, so they separated and had practically said nothing.
But eyes, as announced, are the most astonishing things. They had talkeda great deal that morning. As we human beings are made, they are alittle the neatest and finest expression of all there is in life. Theyhold and send forth the beaconing flash from every intellectual andloving light-house in the world. They are, with what they say, theconfessional between any two human beings, man and woman, in the world.They are the mediums of revelation. No wonder that those who know wantsometimes, foolishly, it may be, to die when to them comes a physicalblindness which may not be remedied.
And this man and woman looked into each other's eyes, he hardlycomprehending at first but having the great consciousness come to him atlast, she doubtless understanding sooner, and even more acutely.
Intelligent fluttering of the heart is what might possibly be said ofher. She was alarmed and yet, from another point of view, entirelywithout fear. She realized the situation better than did he. Ever sincethe world was first firmly encrusted out of the steaming fog woman hasbeen the braver of the two in our love affairs.
Exceedingly clever as these two people were, there is no opportunity todo any exceedingly brilliant work in telling all about them. Broughtdown to its last analysis, theirs was but the plain, old-fashioned lovewhich has stood the test of all the centuries and which, in our modernEnglish and American times, has the flavor of the hollyhocks which growabout the front fence and the old-fashioned pinks in the yard and a lotof other things. We have new ways in other things, but love has notchanged much since the time of Egypt. Doubtless it was about the sameway before.
"What is the day of the week, please," had been Stafford's lastutterance. She did not even reply. She looked back into his eyes andthat look, if it could have been weighed, could have been considered bynothing but Troy weight, the jeweller's weight, and then it would havebeen too coarse for the occasion and the demand.
And so they separated and had practically said nothing.
Not the great Sultan Schariar, when listening to the fair Scheherazade,as she prolonged her life from day to day and finally saved it by thefascination of her stories; not the august hearer, as Sinbad the Sailordescribed his marvelous adventures; not Margaret of Angouleme, as shegathered the more lettered ladies and gallants of her court and inducedthem to add to the gayety of nations by the relation of brisk and risqueexperiences; not Dickens, as he spun the threads himself of his Tales ofa Wayside Inn, had a more keen enjoyment than the Colonel listening tothe words of his drafted and mustered volunteers. He fairly glowedappreciation and satisfaction. As Stafford entered the Cassowary, heperceived that the Colonel was still recruiting.