bassett had gone into the house too. as he crossed the living-room he noticed its deserted quietude, in contrast to the noise and bustle that had possessed it an hour ago.
it was a rich friendly room, comfortably homelike in spite of its size, for it crossed the center of the house, its rear door opening on the garden as the one opposite did on the path. it was spacious in height as well as width, its walls rising two stories. midway up a gallery ran, on three sides of which the bedrooms opened. the fourth side, on the seaward front, was flanked by a line of windows, great squares of unsullied glass that looked over the garden and the amphitheater to the uplands and the open ocean. there were tables here, raking wicker chairs, and low settees with brilliant cushions, books lying about and [pg 66]smokers’ materials. in the room below the character of a hunting lodge had been suggested by mounted deer heads, indian blankets, baskets of cunning weave and animal skins on the floor. but it was an idealized hunting lodge, with seats in which the body sank luxuriously, and softly shaded lights. round the deep-mouthed chimney the scent of wood fires lingered, the fires of birch logs that leaped there when gull island lay under storm and mist. the architect had not diminished the effect of size and unencumbered space by stairs. the second story was reached by two flights, one in the entrance hall, one in the kitchen wing.
bassett opened the door into the hall where again all was quiet, none of the jarring accents that occasionally rose from the stokes’ room. he walked across the gleaming parquette to the library which he had used for his office. there were no signs of the hunting lodge here—a scholarly retreat, book-lined, with leather armchairs and lights arranged for readers’ eyes, a place for [pg 67]delightful hours if one had time to drowse and poke about on the shelves. two long french windows framed a view of the channel and hayworth dreaming among its elms. he went to one of the windows and looked out. the girls were still sitting there, and, as he looked at them, an expression of infinite tenderness lay like a light on his face. it was the light shine had noticed, allowed to break through clearly now that no one was there to see.
he sat down at the desk; there were letters for him to answer, addenda of the performance to check up. he moved the papers, looked at them, pushed them away, and, resting his forehead on his hands, relinquished himself to a deep pervading happiness. yesterday anne had promised to marry him.
his mind, held all day to his work, now flew to her—memories of her face with the down-bent lids as he had asked her, and the look in her eyes as they met his. brave beautiful eyes with her soul in them. it had been no light acceptance for her, [pg 68]it meant the surrendering of her whole being, her life given over to him. he heard her voice again, and his face sank into his hands, his heart trembling in the passion of its dedication to her service. anne, whom he had coveted and yearned for and thought so far beyond his reach—his! he would be worthy of her, and he would take such care of her, gird her round with his two arms, a buckler against every ill that life might bring. she’d had such a hard time of it, struggling up by herself with joe hung round her neck like a millstone.
at the memory of joe he came to earth with a jarring impact. he dropped his hands and stared at the papers, his brows bent in harassed thought. joe had broken the charm, obstructed the way to the paradise of dreams like the angel with the flaming sword—though angel was not exactly the word. bassett had heard something that morning from sybil which must be looked into—something he could hardly believe. but joe being what he was you never could tell. it had been a mistake to bring him, with sybil a bunch of nerves and stokes shunted unexpectedly [pg 69]into their midst. and now he felt responsible, he’d have it out with joe before he left. one more disagreeable scene before they separated to-morrow, and bassett, like mrs. cornell, felt he’d thank providence when they were all on the train in the morning. meantime he’d go over his papers while he waited for the boy who had gone to his room to dress. the door was open and he could hear him as he came down the stairs.
anne was approaching the house, a slender crimson figure, her hair in the sunset light shining like black lacquer. she was smiling to herself—everything was so beautiful, not only gull island and this hour of tranquil glory, but the mere fact of existing. then she saw flora stokes sitting on the balcony and realized that in this golden world there were people to whom life was a dark and troublous affair. she wanted to comfort flora, let some of the happiness in her own heart spill over into that burdened one. but she knew no way of doing it, could only smile at the haggard face the woman lifted from her book.
“oh, mrs. stokes, reading,” she cried as she [pg 70]ran up the steps. “how can you read on such an evening as this?”
flora stokes said she had been walking about till she was tired, and then glanced at the distant rock:
“you’ve left sybil out there.”
there was no comfort or consolation that could penetrate mrs. stokes’ obsession. anne could only reassure:
“she’s coming in soon. she just wanted to see the end of the sunset.”
she passed into the hall, sorry—oh, so sorry! but the library door was open and she halted, poised birdlike for one glance. the man at the desk had his back to her and she said nothing, yet he turned, gave a smothered sound and jumped up. she shut her eyes as she felt his arms go about her and his kisses on her hair, her senses blurred in a strange ineffably sweet confusion of timidity and delight.
“oh, anne,” she heard his voice between the kisses. “i was waiting for you.”
[pg 71]
“some one will see us,” she whispered. “take care.”
she could feel the beating of his heart through his coat. her hands went up to his shoulders feeling along the rough tweed and with her lids down-drooped she lifted her face.
“darling,” he breathed, when the kiss was over, “i thought you were never coming.”
“i had to stay with sybil. she didn’t want to be alone.”
“but you wanted to be here?”
“just here,” she laid a finger on his breast and broke into smothered, breathless laughter.
he laughed too and they drew apart, their hands sliding together and interlocking. it was all so new, so bewilderingly entrancing, that they did not know how to express it, the man staring wonder-struck, the girl, with her quivering laughter that was close to tears, looking this way and that, not knowing where to look.
“i ought to go,” she whispered. “they’ll be coming,” but made no move.
[pg 72]
“wait till they do.” then with a sudden practical facing of realities, “when will we be married?”
“oh, not for ages! i’m not used to being engaged yet!”
“i am—i never was before but i must have had a talent for it, i’ve taken to it so well.”
“oh, hugh!” her laughter came more naturally, his with it. they were like a pair of children, delighting in a little secret. “won’t they be surprised when they hear? nobody has a suspicion of it.”
she looked so enchanting with her eyebrows arched in mischievous query that he made a movement to clasp her again, and then came the creak of an opening door from the floor above.
“hist!” she held up a warning hand and slid away, her face, glancing back for a last look, beautiful in its radiant joy.
bassett moved to the stair-foot. once again he had to come down to earth with a bump. he passed his hand over his face as if to wipe off an [pg 73]expression incompatible with disagreeable interviews. this must be joe.
it was joe, dressed for travel in knickerbockers and a norfolk jacket, a golf cap on the back of his head. he carried an overcoat across his arm, in his hands a suit-case and a fishing-rod done up in a canvas case. at the sight of bassett he halted, and the elder man noticed a change in his expression, a quick focusing to attention.
“oh,” he said. “want to see me, bassett?”
“yes, i want to speak to you before you go.”
joe descended. stopping a step above bassett, he set down his baggage and leaned on the banister, politely waiting.
bassett spoke with lowered voice:
“i heard something this morning that i can hardly believe—an accusation against you. that you’ve been using your position here to act as one of the police spies who’ve been keeping tab on sybil.”
the boy looked at him with impenetrable eyes and answered in the same lowered key:
[pg 74]
“who told you that?”
“she did. she accuses you of having come here with that intention, got the job knowing that no outsiders were to be allowed on the island.”
bassett was certain he had paled under his tan, but his face retained a masklike passivity.
“sounds as if she might be losing her mind.”
“you deny it?”
the boy gave a scornful shrug:
“of course i deny it. i shouldn’t think it would be necessary to ask that. she’s had a down on me for some time—everybody’s seen it, snapping and snarling at me for nothing—and i suppose she wants to get an excuse for it.”
“she says she came upon you examining a letter of hers, holding it up to the light. and three days ago she found you in her room looking over the papers in her desk.”
“ah!” he made a gesture of angry contempt. “it would make a person sick—examining her letters! i was looking through the mail bag to see if there was anything for me. if i took up one of [pg 75]hers by mistake does that prove i was examining it?”
“how about the other thing?”
“being in her room? yes, i was there. i went in to get a stamp. i had an important letter to go when gabriel took over the mail and it was time for him. all the rest of you were out. her room was next to mine and i went in. i never thought anything about it, no more than i would have thought about going into anne’s or yours or anybody else’s. she’s nutty, i tell you. you can’t trust her word. and if she says i’m hired to spy on her she’s a damned——”
he stopped. basset’s eye was steady on him in a cold command he knew. there was the same cold quality in the director’s voice:
“if the position sybil’s in has made her suspicious, that’s all right. i’d like to believe it was the case. but if any of us—supposedly her friends—had inserted themselves in here to carry on police surveillance, using me to get them in—well, i’d not think that all right.”
[pg 76]
joe leaned over the banister. his control was shaken, his voice hoarsely urgent:
“you got to be fair, bassett, and because you’re sorry for her is no reason to set her word over mine. it’s not true. don’t you believe me?”
bassett did not answer for a moment. he wanted to believe and he doubted; he thought of joe’s desire to come, of the reward:
“i guess you know, joe, you can trust me to be fair, but i’m not going to commit myself till i know. it won’t be hard to do that. i can find out when i get back to new york. and take this from me—if what sybil says is true i’m done with you. no more help from me, no more work in any company i manage. and i fancy the whole theatrical profession will feel the same way.” he drew back from the stair-foot. the disagreeable interview was over. “there’s no good talking any more about it. accusations and denials don’t get us anywhere. we’ll let it rest till i’ve made my inquiries. i’ll say good-by now and hope you’ll have a good time in the woods.”
[pg 77]
he turned and walked up the hall to his room on the garden front next the stokes’. joe gathered his luggage and went the opposite way, down the hall and into the big central apartment. he stepped with gingerly softness as if he were creeping away from something he feared might follow him. at the entrance door he set down his luggage and as he bent over it a whispered stream of curses flowed from his lips. he cursed bassett and his luck, but sybil with a savage variety of epithet and choice of misfortune, for she had undone him. straightening up he looked blankly about—his inner turmoil was such he hardly knew where he was—and he retraced his steps, seeking the seclusion of his room, went up the stairs in noiseless vaulting strides like a frightened spider climbing to its web.
