january and winter had passed together. february was nearly a week old. already the garden was astir. the violet-beds were massed with blue, and the green spikes of the jonquils showed tiny buds. there was a new balminess in the air, a new languor in the ardent sunlight. the oaks were tasseling, the fig-trees were gowning themselves in new green robes of edenic simplicity, the clumps of bridal wreath were sprinkled with flecks of white that promised early flowering and the pomegranates were unfolding fresh leaves. on the magnolia burnished leaves of tender green squirmed free from brown sheaths like moths from their cocoons. the south wind blew soft and fresh from the gulf, spiced with the aroma of tropic seas. spring was dawning over northern florida.
[237]
it was saturday afternoon, and holly was perched in the fig-tree at the end of the porch, one rounded arm thrown back against the dusky trunk to pillow her head, one hand holding her forgotten book, one slender ankle swinging slowly like a dainty pendulum from under the hem of her skirt. her eyes were on the green knoll where the oaks threw deep shadow over the red-walled enclosure, and her thoughts wandered like the blue-jay that flitted restlessly through garden and grove. life was a turbid stream, these days, filled with perplexing swirls—a stream that rippled with laughter in the sunlight, and sighed in its shadowed depths, and all the while flowed swiftly, breathlessly on toward—what?
the sound of a horse’s hoofs on the road aroused holly from her dreams. she lifted her head and listened. the hoof-beats slackened at the gate, and then drew nearer up the curving drive. the trees hid the rider, however, and holly could only surmise his identity. it could scarcely be mr. winthrop, for he had gone[238] off in the major’s buggy early in the forenoon for an all-day visit to sunnyside. then it must be julian, although it was unlike him to come so early. she slipped from her seat in the tree and walked toward the steps just as horse and rider trotted into sight. it was julian—julian looking very handsome and eager as he threw himself from the saddle, drew the reins over white queen’s head and strode toward the girl.
“howdy, holly?” he greeted. “didn’t expect to see me so early, i reckon.” he took her hand, drew her to him, and had kissed her cheek before she thought to deny him. she had grown so used to having him kiss her when he came and departed, and his kisses meant so little, that she forgot. she drew herself away gravely.
“i’ll call uncle ran,” she said.
“all right, holly.” julian threw himself on to the steps and lighted a cigarette, gazing appreciatively about him. how pretty it was here at waynewood! some day he meant to own it. he was the only[239] male descendant of the old family, and it was but right and proper that the place should be his. in a year or two that interloping yankee would be glad enough to get rid of it. then he would marry holly, succeed to the old doctor’s practice and—— suddenly he recollected that odd note of holly’s and drew it from his pocket. nonsense, of course, but it had worried him a bit at first. she had been piqued, probably, because he had not been over to see her. he flicked the letter with his finger and laughed softly. the idea of holly releasing him from their engagement! come to think of it, he wasn’t sure that there was any engagement; for the last three years there had been a tacit understanding that some day they were to be married and live at waynewood, but julian couldn’t remember that he had ever out-and-out asked holly to marry him. he laughed again. that was a joke on holly. he would ask her how she could break what didn’t exist. and afterwards he would make sure that it did exist. he had[240] no intention of losing holly. no, indeed! she was the only girl in the world for him. he had met heaps of pretty girls, but never one who could hold a candle to his sweetheart.
holly came back followed by uncle ran. the horse was led away to the stable, and holly sat down on the top step at a little distance from julian. julian looked across at her, admiration and mischief in his black eyes.
“so it’s all over between us, is it, holly?” he asked, with a soft laugh. holly looked up eagerly, and bent forward with a sudden lighting of her grave face.
“oh, julian,” she cried, “it’s all right, then? you’re not going to care?”
julian looked surprised.
“care about what?” he asked, suspiciously.
“but i explained it all in my note,” answered holly, sinking back against the pillar. “i thought you’d understand, julian.”
“are you talking about this?” he asked,[241] contemptuously, tapping the letter against the edge of the step. “do you mean me to believe that you were in earnest?”
“yes, quite in earnest,” she answered, gently.
“shucks!” said julian. but there was a tone of uneasiness in his contempt. “what have i done, holly? if it’s because i haven’t been getting over here to see you very often, i want you to understand that i’m a pretty busy man these days. thompson’s been getting me to do more and more of his work. why, he never takes a night call any more himself; passes it over to me every time. and i can tell you that that sort of thing is no fun, holly. besides,”—he gained reassurance from his own defence—“you didn’t seem very particular about seeing me the last time i was here. i reckoned that maybe you and the yankee were getting on pretty well without me.”
“it isn’t that,” said holly. “i—i told you in the letter, julian. didn’t you read it?”
[242]
“of course i read it, but i couldn’t understand it. you said you’d made a mistake, and a lot of foolishness like that, and had decided you couldn’t marry me. wasn’t that it?”
“yes, that was it—in a way,” answered holly. “well, i mean it, julian.”
julian stared across impatiently.
“now don’t be silly, holly! who’s been talking about me? has that fellow winthrop been putting fool notions into your head?”
“no, julian.”
“then what—— oh, well, i dare say i’ll be able to stand it,” he said, petulantly.
“don’t be angry, julian, please,” begged holly. “i want you to understand it, dear.”
holly indulged in endearments very seldom, and julian melted.
“but, hang it, holly, you talk as though you didn’t care for me any more!” he exclaimed.
“no, i’m not talking so at all,” she answered, gently. “i do care for you—a[243] heap. i always have and always will. but i—i don’t love you as—as a girl loves the man who is to be her husband, julian. i tried to explain that in my letter. you see, we’ve always been such good friends that it seemed sort of natural that we should be sweethearts, and then i reckon we just fell into thinking about getting married. i don’t believe you ever asked me to marry you, julian; i—i just took it for granted, i reckon!”
“nonsense!” he exclaimed.
“i don’t reckon you ever did,” she persisted, with a little smile for his polite disclaimer. “but i’ve always thought of marrying you, and it seemed all right until—until lately. i don’t reckon i ever thought much about what it meant. we’ve always been fond of each other and so it—it seemed all right, didn’t it?”
“it is all right, holly,” he answered, earnestly. he changed his seat to where he could take her hand. “you’ve been thinking about things too much,” he went on. “i reckon you think that because i[244] don’t come over oftener and write poetry to you and all that sort of thing that i don’t love you. every girl gets romantic notions at some time or other, holly, and i reckon you’re having yours. i don’t blame you, sweetheart, but you mustn’t get the notion that i don’t love you. why, you’re the only woman in the world for me, holly!”
“i don’t reckon you’ve known so very many women, julian,” said holly.
“haven’t i, though? why, i met dozens of them when i was at college.” there was a tiny suggestion of swagger. “and some of them were mighty clever, too, and handsome. but there’s never been anyone but you, holly, never once.”
holly smiled and pressed the hand that held hers captive.
“that’s dear of you, julian,” she answered. “but you must get over thinking of me—in that way.”
he drew back with an angry flush on his face and dropped her hand. there was an instant’s silence. then:
[245]
“you mean you won’t marry me?” he demanded, hotly.
“i mean that i don’t love you in the right way, julian.”
“it’s that grinning yankee!” he cried. “he’s been making love to you and filling your head with crazy notions. oh, you needn’t deny it! i’m not blind! i’ve seen what was going on every time i came over.”
“julian!” she cried, rising to her feet.
“yes, i have!” he went on, leaping up and facing her. “a fine thing to do, isn’t it?” he sneered. “keep me dangling on your string and all the while accept attentions from a married man! and a blasted northerner, too! mighty pleased your father would have been!”
“julian! you forget yourself!” said holly, quietly. “you have no right to talk this way to me!”
“it’s you who forget yourself,” he answered, slashing his riding-whip against his boots. “and if i haven’t the right to call you to account i’d like to know who[246] has! miss indy’s blind, i reckon, but i’m not!”
holly’s face had faded to a white mask from which her dark eyes flashed furiously. but her voice, though it trembled, was quiet and cold.
“you’ll beg my pardon, julian wayne, for what you’ve said before i’ll speak to you again. mr. winthrop has never made love to me in his life.”
she turned toward the door.
“you don’t dare deny, though, that you love him!” cried julian, roughly.
“i don’t deny it! i won’t deny it!” cried holly, facing him in a blaze of wrath. “i deny nothing to you. you have no right to know. but if i did love mr. winthrop, married though he is, i’d not be ashamed of it. he is at least a gentleman!”
she swept into the house.
“by god!” whispered julian, the color rushing from his face. “by god! i’ll kill him! i’ll kill him!” he staggered down the steps, beating the air with his whip. a moment later, holly, sitting with clenched[247] hands and heaving breast in her room, heard him shouting for uncle ran and his horse. ten minutes later he was riding like a whirlwind along the marysville road, white queen in an ecstasy of madness as the whip rose and fell.
but by the time the distance was half covered julian’s first anger had cooled, leaving in its place a cold, bitter wrath toward winthrop, to whom he laid the blame not only of holly’s defection but of his loss of temper and brutality. he was no longer incensed with holly; it was as plain as a pikestaff that the sneaking yankee had bewitched her with his damned grinning face and flattering attentions, all the while, doubtless, laughing at her in his sleeve! his smouldering rage blazed up again and with a muttered oath julian raised his whip. but at queen’s sudden snort of terror he let it drop softly again, compunction gripping him. he leaned forward and patted the wet, white neck soothingly.
“forgive me, girl,” he whispered. “i[248] was a brute to take it out on you. there, there, easy now; quiet, quiet!”
on monday holly received a letter from him. it was humbly apologetic, and self-accusing. it made no reference to winthrop, nor did it refer to the matter of the broken engagement; only—
“try and forget my words, holly,” he wrote, “and forgive me and let us be good friends again just as we always have been. i am going over to see you saturday evening to ask forgiveness in person, but i shan’t bother you for more than a couple of hours.”
holly, too, had long since repented, and[249] was anxious to forgive and be forgiven. the thought of losing julian’s friendship just now when, as it seemed, she needed friendship so much, had troubled and dismayed her, and when his letter came she was quite prepared to go more than halfway to effect a reconciliation. her answer, written in the first flush of gratitude, represented holly in her softest mood, and julian read between the lines far more than she had meant to convey. he folded it up and tucked it away with the rest of her letters and smiled his satisfaction.
at waynewood in those days life for holly and winthrop was an unsatisfactory[250] affair, to say the least. each strove to avoid the other without seeming to do so, with the result that each felt piqued. in winthrop’s case it was one thing to keep out of holly’s presence from motives of caution, and quite another to find that she was avoiding him. he believed that his secret was quite safe, and so holly’s apparent dislike for his society puzzled and disturbed him. when they were together the former easy intimacy was absent and in its place reigned a restlessness that made the parting almost a relief. so affairs stood when on the subsequent saturday julian rode over to waynewood again.
it was almost the middle of february, and the world was aglow under a spell of warm weather that was quite unseasonable. the garden was riotous with green leaves and early blossoms. uncle ran confided to winthrop that “if you jes’ listens right cahful you can hear the leaves a-growin’ an’ the buds a-poppin’ open, sir!” winthrop had spent a restless day. physically he was as well as he had ever[251] been, he told himself; three months at waynewood had worked wonders for him; but mentally he was far from normal. of late he had been considering more and more the advisability of returning north. it was time to get back into harness. he had no doubt of his ability to retrieve his scattered fortune, and it was high time that he began. and then, too, existence here at waynewood was getting more complex and unsatisfactory every day. as far as miss india’s treatment of him was concerned, he had only cause for congratulation, for his siege of that lady’s heart had been as successful as it was cunning; only that morning she had spoken to him of waynewood as “your property” without any trace of resentment; but it was very evident that holly had wearied of him. that should have been salutary knowledge, tending to show him the absurdity and hopelessness of his passion, but unfortunately it only increased his misery without disturbing the cause of it. yes, it was high time to break away from an ungraceful position,[252] and get back to his own world—high time to awake from dreams and face reality.
so his thoughts ran that saturday afternoon, as he walked slowly out from town along the shaded road. as he came within sight of waynewood a horse and rider turned in at the gate, and when winthrop left the oleander path and reached the sun-bathed garden he saw that julian and holly were seated together on the porch, very deep in conversation—so interested in each other, indeed, that he had almost gained the steps before either of them became aware of his presence. holly looked anxiously at julian. but that youth was on his good behavior. he arose and bowed politely, if coldly, to winthrop. something told the latter that an offer to shake hands would not be a happy proceeding. so he merely returned julian’s bow as he greeted him, remained for a moment in conversation, and then continued on his way up-stairs. once in his room he lighted a pipe and, from force of habit, sank into[253] a chair facing the empty fireplace. life to-day seemed extremely unattractive. after ten minutes he arose, knocked out the ashes briskly, and dragged his trunk into the center of the room. he had made up his mind.
supper passed pleasantly enough. julian was resolved to reinstall himself in holly’s good graces, even if it entailed being polite to the northerner. holly was in good spirits, while winthrop yielded to an excitement at once pleasant and perturbing. now that he had fully decided to return north he found himself quite eager to go; he wondered how he could have been content to remain in idleness so long. miss india was the same as always, charming in her simple dignity, gravely responsive to the laughter of the others, presiding behind the teapot with the appropriate daintiness of a chelsea statuette. winthrop said nothing of his intended departure to-morrow noon; he would not give julian that satisfaction. after julian had gone he would inform holly. they must be[254] alone when he told her. he didn’t ask himself why. he only knew that the blood was racing in his veins to-night, that the air seemed tinged with an electrical quality that brought pleasant thrills to his heart, and that it was his last evening at waynewood. one may be pardoned something on one’s last evening.
contrary to his custom, and to all the laws of cupid’s court, winthrop joined julian and holly on the porch after supper. he did his best to make himself agreeable and flattered himself that holly, at least, did not resent his presence. after his first fit of resentment at the other’s intrusion julian, too, thawed out and, recollecting his rôle, was fairly agreeable to winthrop. a silver moon floated above the house and flooded the world with light. the white walls shone like snow, and the shadows were intensely black and abrupt. no air stirred the sleeping leaves, and the night was thrillingly silent, save when a whippoorwill sang plaintively in the grove.
[255]
at nine julian arose to take his leave. white queen had been brought around by uncle ran and was pawing the earth restively beside the hitching-post outside the gate at the end of the house. doubtless julian expected that winthrop would allow him to bid holly good-night unmolested. but if so he reckoned without the spirit of recklessness which controlled the northerner to-night. winthrop arose with the others and accompanied them along the path to the gate, returning julian’s resentful glare with a look of smiling insouciance. julian unhitched white queen and a moment of awkward silence followed. holly, dimly aware of the antagonism, glanced apprehensively from julian to winthrop.
“that’s a fine horse you have there,” said winthrop, at last.
“do you think so?” answered julian, with a thinly-veiled sneer. “you know something about horses, perhaps?”
“not much,” replied winthrop, with a good-natured laugh. “i used to ride when i was at college.”
[256]
“perhaps you’d like to try her?” suggested julian.
“thanks, no.”
“i reckon you had better not,” julian drawled. “a horse generally knows when you’re afraid of her.”
“oh, i’m not afraid,” said winthrop. “i dare say i’d manage to stick on, but it is some time since i’ve ridden and my efforts would only appear ridiculous to one of your grace and ability.”
“your modesty does you credit, if your discretion doesn’t,” replied the other, with a disagreeable laugh. “i hadn’t done you justice, mr. winthrop, it seems.”
“how is that?” asked winthrop, smilingly.
“why, it seems that you possess two virtues i had not suspected you of having, sir.”
“you wound me, mr. wayne. i pride myself on my modesty. and as for discretion——”
“you doubtless find it useful at such times as the present,” sneered julian.
[257]
“i really almost believe you are suspecting me of cowardice,” said winthrop, pleasantly.
“i really almost believe you are a mind-reader,” mocked julian.
their eyes met and held in the moonlight. julian’s face was white and strained. winthrop’s was smiling, but the mouth set hard and there was a dangerous sparkle in the eyes. challenge met challenge. winthrop laughed softly.
“you see, miss holly,” he said, turning to her, “i am forced to exhibit my deficiencies, after all, or stand accused of cowardice. i pray you to mercifully turn your eyes away.”
“please don’t,” said holly, in a troubled voice. “really, queen isn’t safe, mr. winthrop.”
“the advice is good, sir,” drawled julian. “the mare isn’t safe.”
“oh, pardon me, the mare is quite safe,” replied winthrop, as he took the bridle reins from julian’s hand; “it’s i who am not safe. but we shall see. at least, miss[258] holly, credit me with the modesty which mr. wayne seems to begrudge me, for here on the verge of the sacrifice i acknowledge myself no horseman.”
he placed his foot in the stirrup and sprang lightly enough into the saddle. white queen flattened her ears as she felt a new weight on her back, but stood quite still while winthrop shortened the reins.
“come on, queen,” he said. the mare moved a step hesitatingly and shook her head. at that moment there was a sharp cry of warning from holly. julian raised the whip in his hand and brought it down savagely, and the mare, with a cry of terror, flung herself across the narrow roadway so quickly that winthrop shot out of the saddle and crashed against the picket fence, to lie crumpled and still in the moonlight. holly was beside him in the instant and julian, tossing aside his whip, sprang after her.
holly turned blazing eyes upon him.
“no, no!” she cried, wildly. “you [259]shan’t touch him! keep away! you’ve killed him. i won’t let you touch him!” she threw one arm across winthrop’s breast protectingly, and with the other sought to ward julian away.
“hush!” he cried, tensely. “i must look at him. he is only stunned. his head struck the fence. let me look at him.”
“i won’t! i won’t!” sobbed the girl. “you have done enough! go for help!”
“don’t be a fool!” he muttered, kneeling beside the still form and running a hand under the vest. “you don’t want him to die, do you? here, hold his head up—so; that’s it.” there was an instant’s silence broken only by holly’s dry, choking sobs. then julian arose briskly to his feet. “just as i said,” he muttered. “stunned. find uncle ran and we’ll take him into the house and attend to him!”
“no, no! i’ll stay here,” said holly, brokenly. “hurry! hurry!”
for an instant julian hesitated, scowling down upon her. then, with a muttered word, he turned abruptly and ran toward the house. holly, huddled against the[260] fence with winthrop’s head on her knee, held tightly to one limp hand and watched with wide, terrified eyes. the face was so white and cold in the moonlight! there was a little troubled frown on the forehead, as though the soul was wondering and perplexed. had julian spoken the truth? was he really only stunned, or was this death that she looked on? would they never come? she gripped his hand in a sudden panic of awful fear. supposing death came and took him away from her while she sat there impotent! she bent closer above him, as though to hide him, and as she did so he gave a groan. her heart leaped.
“dear,” she whispered, “it’s holly. she wants you. you won’t die, will you? when you know that i want you, you won’t leave me, will you? what would i do without you, dear? i’ve so long to live!”
footsteps hurried across the porch and down the steps. very gently holly yielded her burden to uncle ran, and winthrop was carried into the house, where aunt india,[261] in a pink flowered wrapper, awaited them at the head of the stairs. they bore winthrop into his room and laid him, still unconscious, on his bed. holly’s gaze clung to the white face.
“get on queen, uncle ran, and ride in for the old doctor,” julian directed. “tell him there’s a collar-bone to set. you had better leave us, holly.”
“no, no!” cried holly, new fear gripping her heart.
“holly!” said her aunt. “go at once, girl. this is no place for you.” but holly made no answer. her eyes were fixed on the silent form on the bed. julian laid his hand on her arm.
“come,” he said. she started and tore away from him, her eyes ablaze.
“don’t touch me!” she whispered, hoarsely, shudderingly. “don’t touch me, julian! you’ve killed him! i want never to see you again!”
“holly!” exclaimed miss india, astoundedly.
“i am going, auntie.”
[262]
julian held the door open for her, looking troubledly at her as she passed out. but she didn’t see him. the door closed behind her. she heard julian’s quick steps across the floor and the sound of murmuring voices.
a deep sob shook her from head to feet. falling to her knees she laid her forehead against the frame of the door, her hands clasping and unclasping convulsively.
“dear god,” she moaned, “i didn’t mean this! i didn’t mean this!”
