clad in an immaculate frock-coat, with a hat of irreproachable shininess on his head, a flower in his buttonhole, and every detail of his attire correctly up-to-date, “my chum gerard” made his appearance to call at brompton square on the monday afternoon following miles’ return.
“i’ve met him a hundred times in piccadilly!” was jill’s comment on the stranger, and indeed he had far more the air of a fashionable londoner than of a miner from the far-off wilds of mexico. as tall as miles, though of a more slender build, showing in the same eloquent fashion the marks of recent shaving, rather handsome than plain, rather dark than fair, there seemed at first sight little to distinguish him from a hundred other men of the same age. on a closer acquaintance, however, a further attraction was found in the grave, steady glance of the eyes, and in a rare smile, lighting up somewhat careworn features into a charming flash of gaiety. mr gerard was evidently unused to laughter—with all his sterling qualities miles could not be described as a humorous companion!—and the programme of the past years had been all work and no play. as he sat in mrs trevor’s drawing-room that first afternoon, he listened in a somewhat dazed fashion to the banter which went on between jack and his sisters; but after some time had passed his face began to soften, the corners of his mouth twitched, and presently out flashed that delightful, whole-hearted smile, and betty, meeting it, buried at once and for ever all lingering prejudices against her brother’s friend.
it was fortunate that mr gerard had made a favourable impression on the young people, for, at miles’ earnest request, he was invited to take up his quarters at brompton square for the next few weeks.
“his own people live in the country; he has no friends that he cares about in town, and i hate the thought of him moping alone in an hotel after all he has done for me. besides, we ought to be together just now. there will be business to talk over every night until we get this company floated, and if he were not here i should always have to be going over to him—”
the last argument settled the matter in mrs trevor’s eyes. truth to tell, she was not too anxious to introduce a stranger into her reunited family circle, but if it were easier and more convenient for miles, and ensured for herself a greater amount of his society, it was impossible to refuse. she reaped the reward of merit in a growing liking and admiration for her guest, who was even pathetically grateful for her hospitality, and appreciative of the home atmosphere to which he had so long been a stranger.
business engrossed the greater part of the time, but there were odd hours of leisure when the girls were suddenly commanded to get ready with all possible speed, and spirited off for an afternoon on the river, or on bicycle expeditions to the country, ending up with an evening meal at some old-fashioned country inn. they were treated to concerts also, and to entertainments of all sorts, including welcoming parties at friends’ houses, and when they bemoaned the speedy wearing out of evening dresses, miles insisted upon providing new ones, regardless of expense.
“it’s most grateful and comforting to have a gold-mine in the family,” cried jill, making languishing eyes at the senior partner. of course she flirted with him—jill flirted with everything in the shape of a man—monopolising his attention on all occasions in a manner which would have been somewhat trying to most elder sisters.
“but i know you don’t mind. you like best of all to be with miles,” said jill easily, when some remark of the sort was made, and betty’s reply held an unexpected tartness.
“i don’t mind in the least. it is a matter of perfect unconcern to me how mr gerard behaves; but you are my sister. i am sorry to see you lowering your dignity, by being so silly, and flighty, and ridiculous! i am sure he must laugh at you in private?”
“he laughs to my face, dear. i amuse him wonderfully. he told me yesterday that i was as good as a tonic. such a pity you should bother your poor old head about me! i understand men, my dear!”
the insinuation of that emphasised “i” was unmistakable. jill began to hum—an aggravating habit of hers when she felt the mistress of a situation—and tripped lightly out of the room.
and betty sat and thought. burning like a furnace, throbbing in every nerve, shaking her even as she sat, came a sudden fierce heat of anger such as she had not experienced for many a long year. she had been accustomed to regard jill’s flirtation from a mental height of affectionate disdain, to laugh with purest amusement at her assumption of superiority, but now of a sudden indifference had changed to anger and a sore rankling of jealousy, which puzzled as much as it disturbed. it could not be that she herself coveted mr gerard’s attention! cynthia, nan vanburgh, all her friends had remarked times and again upon her indifference to masculine admiration, for, strange as it might seem, that romantic interview in the fog six years before had linked her sympathies so strangely with one man’s lot that she had had none to spare for later comers. under god’s providence she had saved a life, and while those voiceless messengers told of its preservation, it must remain the one supreme interest of life. some day “ralph” would come home. some day he would appear before her to announce his task completed, and to claim her friendship as his reward. her mother pleaded with her not to allow a romantic fancy to ruin her life, pointed out that “ralph” might have married long before now, that even if he returned she might be bitterly disappointed in his identity. in vain! betty could not argue. she felt—and that was the end of the matter. the sympathetic attraction was too strong to be one-sided. at the other side of the ocean “ralph” was waiting for her, even as she for him, and the meeting would surely come. it might be years hence, but—marvellous thought!—it might be to-day. each fresh awakening brought with it a thrill and a hope.
all these long years had this fantasy lasted; it was not possible that it was beginning to fade at the sight of a pair of grave grey eyes, at the sound of a man’s deep-toned voice!
betty sat and thought. ten minutes passed, twenty minutes, half an hour.
jill thrust her head round the corner of the door to give a careless invitation.
“i’m going for a trot before dinner. come along too. it will do you good.”
“no, thank you. i’d rather not.”
“sulking still? goodness, i thought you’d have recovered by this time! bye-bye, my dear. hope you’ll get it over before dinner.”
she was humming again as she made her way to the door, where, no doubt, mr gerard waited to accompany her. the invitation had been a polite matter of form to which an acceptance was not desired. betty leant her head on the table and lived through a moment of bitterness before the door opened once more, and a voice said—
“if you are not going out, may i come in for a few minutes? miles has not yet—” then, in a tone of startled concern, “i beg your pardon! i am interrupting you. you are in trouble?”
betty straightened herself with a nervous laugh.
“oh, please come in! it’s nothing. i only felt rather—upset. something vexed me, but it’s nothing of any importance. can i do anything for you? are you expecting miles? he said he would be home quite early. were you going out together?”
“yes, we have some calls to pay, but there’s still half an hour to spare. he will be up to time, i’m sure. miles is always punctual.”
mr gerard seated himself, and looked with concern at betty’s face, on which the signs of her mental conflict were clearly printed. it was almost the first time that they had been alone together, for tête-à-têtes were of rare occurrence in the doctor’s busy household, and there was a perceptible hesitation on both sides.
“no, thank you! you can do nothing for me, but i wish i could help you,” said gerard. “can’t i pummel somebody? miles will tell you i have a good fighting arm. if anyone has been annoying you—”
that made betty laugh, with a quick wonder as to what mr gerard would say if he knew the identity of his proposed opponent.
“no, no, thank you! i must fight my own battles. as a matter of fact, it’s more temper than anything else. i have a most intrusive temper. it is always pushing itself forward—”
she expected the usual polite disclaimer, but it did not come. will gerard looked at her for a minute, as if thoughtfully weighing her in the balance, and then the delightful irradiating smile passed over his features.
“and it is more difficult to fight now than in the old days, when you could let yourself go, have a grand rampage, and trust to time and the aroma of roast chestnuts to make the peace!” he said mischievously; and when betty started in dismay—
“oh, i know all about it! the subject of home is very attractive when one is alone in exile. i could hardly know more about you if i’d been a member of your schoolroom party. i used to lure miles on to talk of old days. it kept us both occupied. do you remember the occasion when you decided to starve yourself to death, because you imagined that you had been unjustly treated, and then got up in the middle of the first night to raid a cold chop from the larder? or the time you vowed vengeance on miles for cutting off the ends of your hair to make paint brushes, repented after you went to bed, and went to make it up, when he concluded you were playing ghosts, and nearly throttled you as a welcome?”
betty laughed, undecided between amusement and vexation.
“it’s too bad! he seems to have given me away all round. if he was going to tell tales, he might have told flattering ones. i am sure i was often very nice, or i was always sorry if i wasn’t. i used to roast chestnuts and muffins, and eat oranges and peppermints with the door wide open to lure him back. they were dear old days! i am glad he remembered them, but it must have been boring for you. did he—did he tell you—more things about me?”
“many more!”
“principally about me? more than about the others?”
“you were his special chum. it was natural that he should speak most of you.”
“and—er—my letters! did he read those aloud?”
“parts of them. i never saw them, of course, except—”
“except when?”
“when he was ill. he could not read himself, and was anxious to hear the news. three letters from you arrived during that time. he said it did not matter. that there would be no secrets in them—nothing you would not wish me to know.”
betty flushed, cast an agonised thought back through the years, to try to remember the gist of those three missives, failed completely, and nervously twisted her fingers together.
“there was one thing they would show you pretty plainly, which i’d rather have kept secret.”
“yes?”
“myself?”
she looked across the room with a flickering glance, and met will gerard’s steady gaze.
“yes,” he said slowly. “they showed me yourself!”
that was all. not another word, either of praise or blame. did he hate her then—think her altogether flighty and contemptible, or had the letters been by chance good specimens of their number, and did he like them, and think her “nice”? the face told her nothing in its grave impenetrability. she felt herself blushing more deeply than ever, rallied all her powers with the determination that she would not be stupid, and cried gaily—
“well, after all, the confidence was not all on one side! we heard enough about you. ‘my chum gerard’ has been a household word among us for years past. you were such a paragon that we were quite bored with the list of your perfections.” she raised her hands and began checking off his characteristics on the different fingers in charming, mischievous fashion. “my chum gerard is so clever,—so industrious,—so far-seeing,—so thoughtful,—so generous,—so kind,—so helpful—no! i am not going to stop; i’ve not half-finished yet.—all that he does is wise; all that he tries, succeeds; all that he has, he shares; and when he speaks, let no dog bark! when we read about impossible heroes in books we called them ‘gerard’; when we wanted to express the acme of perfection, we called a thing ‘gerardy.’ jill read aloud the swiss family robinson to pam, and called the good proper papa ‘mr gerard’ all the way through. so now!”
“now, indeed!” echoed the real mr gerard, laughing. “you are certainly revenged, miss trevor. i don’t know anything more trying than to be preceded by an impossibly exaggerated character! the reality is bound to be a disappointment. miles has credited me with his own virtues, for in reality i am a very faulty person; not in the least like that paragon, robinson papa, of whom i have a vivid remembrance. he would have been a useful person out in mexico, all the same. that convenient habit of discovering every necessity for the table or the toilet on the nearest bush would have helped us out of many a dilemma.”
they laughed together over the old-time memory, and then, suddenly sobering, mr gerard continued—
“at any rate, miss trevor, the fact remains, that by ‘good report or ill,’ even by sight, so far as photographs can reproduce us, we have been intimately acquainted with each other for the last six years. six years is a long time. it ought to enable us to meet as friends rather than acquaintances?”
the last sentence was uttered more as a question than a fact, and betty answered with eager acquiescence.
“oh yes, as friends, quite old friends. it is far better so—”
“yet there are times when you treat me like the veriest stranger! it must be my own fault. have i done or said anything since my arrival which has displeased you?”
“oh no! please don’t think so. it was nothing at all, not a thing, except only that—”
she could not say, “except that you seemed to prefer jill’s society to mine,” and so complete the sentence; so she subsided into blushing silence, and mr gerard tactfully forbore to question.
“don’t let there be any more ‘excepts’ or ‘buts,’ please! take me on trust as miles’ friend and—if you will allow me—your own. that is all i request.”
at this interesting moment the sound of a latchkey was heard in the front door, followed by voices and footsteps in the hall. mr gerard muttered something under his breath. what the exact words were betty did not know, but they were certainly not indicative of pleasure. then the door opened, and miles entered, followed by jill, who had met her brother soon after starting for her walk, and had escorted him back to the house.
she raised her eyebrows at the sight of mr gerard. had he not refused to go out with her a few minutes before, on the score of letters to be written? yet here he was, talking to betty, with never a pretence of paper or ink in the room.
jill came down to dinner an hour or two later, attired in her prettiest dress, with the little curl, which jack naughtily termed the “war cry,” artlessly displayed on her forehead. she did not care two pins about her brother’s partner, but it was her nature to wish to reign supreme with any man with whom she was brought into contact, so she was her most captivating self all the evening, and will gerard laid his hand on his heart and bowed before her, laughed at her sallies, and applauded her songs, as he had done every evening since his arrival, and betty laughed and applauded in her turn, without a trace of the old rankling jealousy. “he talks to her, but he looks at me. he wants me to be his friend!” she told herself with a proud content.
for the first time for many a long year her dreams that night were in the present, instead of in the past.
