Tommy and Grizel

by J. M. Barrie

  CHAPTER XIII

  LITTLE WELLS OF GLADNESS

  It was dusk, and she had not seen him. In the silent Den he stoodmotionless within a few feet of her, so amazed to find that Grizelreally loved him that for the moment self was blotted out of his mind.He remembered he was there only when he heard his heavy breathing, andthen he tried to check it that he might steal away undiscovered.Divers emotions fought for the possession of him. He was in themeeting of many waters, each capable of whirling him where it chose,but two only imperious: the one the fierce joy of being loved; theother an agonizing remorse. He would fain have stolen away to thinkthis tremendous thing over, but it tossed him forward. "Grizel," hesaid in a husky whisper, "Grizel!"

  She did not start; she was scarcely surprised to hear his voice: shehad been talking to him, and he had answered. Had he not been thereshe would still have heard him answer. She could not see him moreclearly now than she had been seeing him through those little wells ofgladness. Her love for him was the whole of her. He came to her withthe opening and the shutting of her eyes; he was the wind that bit herand the sun that nourished her; he was the lowliest object by theCuttle Well, and he was the wings on which her thoughts soared toeternity. He could never leave her while her mortal frame endured.

  When he whispered her name she turned her swimming eyes to him, and astrange birth had come into her face. Her eyes said so openly theywere his, and her mouth said it was his, her whole being went out tohim; in the radiance of her face could be read immortal designs: themaid kissing her farewell to innocence was there, and the reason whyit must be, and the fate of the unborn; it was the first stirring forweal or woe of a movement that has no end on earth, but must roll on,growing lusty on beauty or dishonour till the crack of time. Thisbirth which comes to every woman at that hour is God's gift to her inexchange for what He has taken away, and when He has given it Hestands back and watches the man.

  To this man she was a woman transformed. The new bloom upon her faceentranced him. He knew what it meant. He was looking on the face oflove at last, and it was love coming out smiling from its hiding-placebecause it thought it had heard him call. The artist in him who haddone this thing was entranced, as if he had written an immortal page.

  But the man was appalled. He knew that he had reached the criticalmoment in her life and his, and that if he took one step fartherforward he could never again draw back. It would be comparatively easyto draw back now. To remain a free man he had but to tell her thetruth; and he had a passionate desire to remain free. He heard thevoices of his little gods screaming to him to draw back. But it couldbe done only at her expense, and it seemed to him that to tell thisnoble girl, who was waiting for him, that he did not need her, wouldbe to spill for ever the happiness with which she overflowed, and sapthe pride that had been the marrow of her during her twenty years oflife. Not thus would Grizel have argued in his place; but he could notchange his nature, and it was Sentimental Tommy, in an agony ofremorse for having brought dear Grizel to this pass, who had to decideher future and his in the time you may take to walk up a garden path.Either her mistake must be righted now or kept hidden from her forever. He was a sentimentalist, but in that hard moment he was tryingto be a man. He took her in his arms and kissed her reverently,knowing that after this there could be no drawing back. In that act hegave himself loyally to her as a husband. He knew he was not worthy ofher, but he was determined to try to be a little less unworthy; and ashe drew her to him a slight quiver went through her, so that for asecond she seemed to be holding back--for a second only, and thequiver was the rustle of wings on which some part of the Grizel wehave known so long was taking flight from her. Then she pressed closeto him passionately, as if she grudged that pause. I love her morethan ever, far more; but she is never again quite the Grizel we haveknown.

  He was not unhappy; in the near hereafter he might be as miserable asthe damned--the little gods were waiting to catch him alone andterrify him; but for the time, having sacrificed himself, Tommy wasaglow with the passion he had inspired. He so loved the thing he hadcreated that in his exultation he mistook it for her. He believed allhe was saying. He looked at her long and adoringly, not, as hethought, because he adored her, but because it was thus that lookshould answer look; he pressed her wet eyes reverently because thus itwas written in his delicious part; his heart throbbed with hers thatthey might beat in time. He did not love, but he was the perfectlover; he was the artist trying in a mad moment to be as well as todo. Love was their theme; but how to know what was said when betweenlovers it is only the loose change of conversation that gets intowords? The important matters cannot wait so slow a messenger; whilethe tongue is being charged with them, a look, a twitch of the mouth,a movement of a finger, transmits the story, and the words arrive,like Bluecher, when the engagement is over.

  With a sudden pretty gesture--ah, so like her mother's!--she held theglove to his lips. "It is sad because you have forgotten it."

  "I have kissed it so often, Grizel, long before I thought I shouldever kiss you!"

  She pressed it to her innocent breast at that. And had he really doneso? and which was the first time, and the second, and the third? Oh,dear glove, you know so much, and your partner lies at home in adrawer knowing nothing. Grizel felt sorry for the other glove. Shewhispered to Tommy as a terrible thing, "I think I love this gloveeven more than I love you--just a tiny bit more." She could not partwith it. "It told me before you did," she explained, begging him togive it back to her.

  "If you knew what it was to me in those unhappy days, Grizel!"

  "I want it to tell me," she whispered.

  And did he really love her? Yes, she knew he did, but how could he?

  "Oh, Grizel, how could I help it!"

  He had to say it, for it is the best answer; but he said it with asigh, for it sounded like a quotation.

  But how could she love him? I think her reply disappointed him.

  "Because you wanted me to," she said, with shining eyes. It isprobably the commonest reason why women love, and perhaps it is thebest; but his vanity was wounded--he had expected to hear that he waspossessed of an irresistible power.

  "Not until I wanted you to?"

  "I think I always wanted you to want me to," she replied, naively;"but I would never have let myself love you," she continued veryseriously, "until I was sure you loved me."

  "You could have helped it, Grizel!" He drew a blank face.

  "I did help it," she answered. "I was always fighting the desire tolove you,--I can see that plainly,--and I always won. I thought Godhad made a sort of compact with me that I should always be the kind ofwoman I wanted to be if I resisted the desire to love you until youloved me."

  "But you always had the desire!" he said eagerly.

  "Always, but it never won. You see, even you did not know of it. Youthought I did not even like you! That was why you wanted to preventCorp's telling me about the glove, was it not? You thought it wouldpain me only! Do you remember what you said: 'It is to save you acutepain that I want to see Corp first'?"

  All that seemed so long ago to Tommy now!

  "How could you think it would be a pain to me!" she cried.

  "You concealed your feelings so well, Grizel."

  "Did I not?" she said joyously. "Oh, I wanted to be so careful, and Iwas careful. That is why I am so happy now." Her face was glowing. Shewas full of odd, delightful fancies to-night. She kissed her hand tothe gloaming; no, not to the gloaming--to the little hunted, anxiousgirl she had been.

  "She is standing behind that tree looking at us."]

  "She is looking at us," she said. "She is standing behind that treelooking at us. She wanted so much to grow into a dear, good woman thatshe often comes and looks at me eagerly. Sometimes her face is sofearful! I think she was a little alarmed when she heard you werecoming back."

  "She never liked me, Grizel."

  "Hush!" said Grizel, in a low voice. "She always liked you; she alwaysthought you a wonder. But she would be di
stressed if she heard metelling you. She thought it would not be safe for you to know. I musttell him now, dearest, darlingest," she suddenly called out boldly tothe little self she had been so quaintly fond of because there was noother to love her. "I must tell him everything now, for you are nolonger your own. You are his."

  "She has gone away rocking her arms," she said to Tommy.

  "No," he replied. "I can hear her. She is singing because you are sohappy."

  "She never knew how to sing."

  "She has learned suddenly. Everybody can sing who has anything to singabout. And do you know what she said about your dear wet eyes, Grizel?She said they were just sweet. And do you know why she left us sosuddenly? She ran home gleefully to stitch and dust and beat carpets,and get baths ready, and look after the affairs of everybody, whichshe is sure must be going to rack and ruin because she has been awayfor half an hour!"

  At his words there sparkled in her face the fond delight with which awoman assures herself that the beloved one knows her littleweaknesses, for she does not truly love unless she thirsts to have himunderstand the whole of her, and to love her in spite of the foiblesand for them. If he does not love you a little for the foibles, madam,God help you from the day of the wedding.

  But though Grizel was pleased, she was not to be cajoled. Shewandered with him through the Den, stopping at the Lair, and theQueen's Bower, and many other places where the little girl used towatch Tommy suspiciously; and she called, half merrily, halfplaintively: "Are you there, you foolish girl, and are you wringingyour hands over me? I believe you are jealous because I love himbest."

  "We have loved each other so long, she and I," she said apologeticallyto Tommy. "Ah," she said impulsively, when he seemed to be hurt,"don't you see it is because she doubts you that I am so sorry for thepoor thing!"

  "Dearest, darlingest," she called to the child she had been, "don'tthink that you can come to me when he is away, and whisper thingsagainst him to me. Do you think I will listen to your croakings, youpoor, wet-faced thing!"

  "You child!" said Tommy.

  "Do you think me a child because I blow kisses to her?"

  "Do you like me to think you one?" he replied.

  "I like you to call me child," she said, "but not to think me one."

  "Then I shall think you one," said he, triumphantly. He was so perfectan instrument for love to play upon that he let it play on and on, andlistened in a fever of delight. How could Grizel have doubted Tommy?The god of love himself would have sworn that there were a score ofarrows in him. He wanted to tell Elspeth and the others at once thathe and Grizel were engaged. I am glad to remember that it was he whourged this, and Grizel who insisted on its being deferred. He evenpretended to believe that Elspeth would exult in the news; but Grizelsmiled at him for saying this to please her. She had never been agreat friend of Elspeth's, they were so dissimilar; and she blamedherself for it now, and said she wanted to try to make Elspeth loveher before they told her. Tommy begged her to let him tell his sisterat once; but she remained obdurate, so anxious was she that herhappiness, when revealed, should bring only happiness to others. Therehad not come to Grizel yet the longing to be recognized as his by theworld. This love was so beautiful and precious to her that there wasan added joy in sharing the dear secret with him alone; it was a livething that might escape if she let anyone but him look between thefingers that held it.

  The crowning glory of loving and being loved is that the pair make noreal progress; however far they have advanced into the enchanted landduring the day, they must start again from the frontier next morning.Last night they had dredged the lovers' lexicon for superlatives andnot even blushed; to-day is that the heavens cracking or merelysomeone whispering "dear"? All this was very strange and wonderful toGrizel. She had never been so young in the days when she was a littlegirl.

  "I can never be quite so happy again!" she had said, with a wistfulsmile, on the night of nights; but early morn, the time of the daythat loves maidens best, retold her the delicious secret as it kissedher on the eyes, and her first impulse was to hurry to Tommy. When joyor sorrow came to her now, her first impulse was to hurry with it tohim.

  Was he still the same, quite the same? She, whom love had made a childof, asked it fearfully, as if to gaze upon him openly just at firstmight be blinding; and he pretended not to understand. "The same aswhat, Grizel?"

  "Are you still--what I think you?"

  "Ah, Grizel, not at all what you think me."

  "But you do?"

  "Coward! You are afraid to say the word. But I do!"

  "You don't ask whether I do!"

  "No."

  "Why? Is it because you are so sure of me?"

  He nodded, and she said it was cruel of him.

  "You don't mean that, Grizel."

  "Don't I?" She was delighted that he knew it.

  "No; you mean that you like me to be sure of it."

  "But I want to be sure of it myself." "You are. That was why youasked me if I loved you. Had you not been sure of it you would nothave asked."

  "How clever you are!" she said gleefully, and caressed a button of hisvelvet coat. "But you don't know what that means! It does not meanthat I love you--not merely that."

  "No; it means that you are glad I know you so well. It is an ecstasyto you, is it not, to feel that I know you so well?"

  "It is sweet," she said. She asked curiously: "What did you do lastnight, after you left me? I can't guess, though I daresay you canguess what I did."

  "You put the glove under your pillow, Grizel." (She had got theprecious glove.)

  "However could you guess!"

  "It has often lain under my own."

  "Oh!" said Grizel, breathless.

  "Could you not guess even that?"

  "I wanted to be sure. Did it do anything strange when you had itthere?"

  "I used to hear its heart beating."

  "Yes, exactly! But this is still more remarkable. I put it away atlast in my sweetest drawer, and when I woke in the morning it wasunder my pillow again. You could never have guessed that."

  "Easily. It often did the same thing with me." "Story-teller! Butwhat did you do when you went home?"

  He could not have answered that exhaustively, even if he would, forhis actions had been as contradictory as his emotions. He had fearedeven while he exulted, and exulted when plunged deep in fears. Therehad been quite a procession of Tommies all through the night; one ofthem had been a very miserable man, and the only thing he had beensure of was that he must be true to Grizel. But in so far as he didanswer he told the truth.

  "I went for a stroll among the stars," he said. "I don't know when Igot to bed. I have found a way of reaching the stars. I have to sayonly, 'Grizel loves me,' and I am there."

  "Without me!"

  "I took you with me."

  "What did we see? What did we do?"

  "You spoiled everything by thinking the stars were badly managed. Youwanted to take the supreme control. They turned you out."

  "And when we got back to earth?"

  "Then I happened to catch sight of myself in a looking-glass, and Iwas scared. I did not see how you could possibly love me. A terrorcame over me that in the Den you must have mistaken me for someoneelse. It was a darkish night, you know." "You are wanting me to sayyou are handsome."

  "No, no; I am wanting you to say I am very, very handsome. Tell me youlove me, Grizel, because I am beautiful."

  "Perhaps," she replied, "I love you because your book is beautiful."

  "Then good-bye for ever," he said sternly.

  "Would not that please you?"

  "It would break my heart."

  "But I thought all authors--"

  "It is the commonest mistake in the world. We are simple creatures,Grizel, and yearn to be loved for our face alone."

  "But I do love the book," she said, when they became more serious,"because it is part of you."

  "Rather that," he told her, "than that you should love me because I amp
art of it. But it is only a little part of me, Grizel; only the bestpart. It is Tommy on tiptoes. The other part, the part that does notdeserve your love, is what needs it most."

  "I am so glad!" she said eagerly. "I want to think you need me."

  "How I need you!"

  "Yes, I think you do--I am sure you do; and it makes me so happy."

  "Ah," he said, "now I know why Grizel loves me." And perhaps he didknow now. She loved to think that she was more to him than the newbook, but was not always sure of it; and sometimes this saddened her,and again she decided that it was right and fitting. She would hastento him to say that this saddened her. She would go just as impulsivelyto say that she thought it right.

  Her discoveries about herself were many.

  "What is it to-day?" he would say, smiling fondly at her. "I see it issomething dreadful by your face."

  "It is something that struck me suddenly when I was thinking of you,and I don't know whether to be glad or sorry."

  "Then be glad, you child."

  "It is this: I used to think a good deal of myself; the people herethought me haughty; they said I had a proud walk."

  "You have it still," he assured her; the vitality in her as she movedwas ever a delicious thing to him to look upon.

  "Yes, I feel I have," she admitted, "but that is only because I amyours; and it used to be because I was nobody's!"

  "Do you expect my face to fall at that?"

  "No, but I thought so much of myself once, and now I am nobody at all.At first it distressed me, and then I was glad, for it makes youeverything and me nothing. Yes, I am glad, but I am just a little bitsorry that I should be so glad!" "Poor Grizel!" said he.

  "Poor Grizel!" she echoed. "You are not angry with me, are you, forbeing almost sorry for her? She used to be so different. 'Where isyour independence, Grizel?' I say to her, and she shakes her sorrowfulhead. The little girl I used to be need not look for me any more; ifwe were to meet in the Den she would not know me now."

  Ah, if only Tommy could have loved in this way! He would have done itif he could. If we could love by trying, no one would ever have beenmore loved than Grizel. "Am I to be condemned because I cannot?" hesometimes said to himself in terrible anguish; for though prettythoughts came to him to say to her when she was with him, he sufferedanguish for her when he was alone. He knew it was tragic that suchlove as hers should be given to him, but what more could he do than hewas doing?