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came a day of sharp suspense when Deborah's friends and enemies on the Board of Education sat down to
discuss and settle her fate. They were at it for several hours, but late in the afternoon they decided not only to
let her go on the next year but to try her idea in four other schools and place her in charge with ample funds.
The long strain came to an end at last in a triumph beyond her wildest hopes; when the news arrived she
relaxed, grew limp, and laughed and cried a little. And her father felt her tremble as he held her a moment in
his arms.
CHAPTER XVIII 74
"Now, Baird," he thought, "your chance has come. For God's sake, take it while it's here!"
But in place of Baird that afternoon came men and women from the press, and friends and fellow workers.
The door-bell and the telephone kept ringing almost incessantly. Why couldn't they leave her a moment's
peace? Roger buried himself in his study. Later, when he was called to dinner, he found that Allan was there,
too, but at first the conversation was all upon Deborah's victory. Flushed with success, for the moment
engrossed in the wider field she saw ahead, she had not a thought for anything else. But after dinner the
atmosphere changed.
"To hear me talk," she told them, "you'd think the whole world depended on me, and on my school and my
ideas. Me, me, me! And it has been me all winter long! What a time I've given both of you!"
She grew repentant and grateful, first to her father and then to Allan, and then more and more to Allan, with
her happy eyes on his. And with a keen worried look at them both, Roger rose and left the room.
* * * * *
Baird was leaning forward. He had both her hands in his own.
"Well?" he asked. "Will you marry me now?"
Her eyes were looking straight into his. They kept moving slightly, searching his. Her wide, sensitive lips
were tightly compressed, but did not quite hide their quivering. When she spoke her voice was low and a little
queer and breathless:
"Do you want any children, Allan?"
"Yes."
"So do I. And with children, what of my work?"
"I don't want to stop your work. If you marry me we'll go right on. You see I know you, Deborah, I know
you've always grown like that--by risking what you've got to-day for something more to-morrow."
"I've never taken a risk like this!"
"I tell you this time it's no risk! Because you're a grown woman--formed! I'm not making a saint of you.
You're no angel down among the poor because you feel it's your duty in life--it's your happiness, your
passion! You couldn't neglect them if you tried!"
"But the time," she asked him quickly. "Where shall I find the time for it all?"
"A man finds time enough," he answered, "even when he's married."
"But I'm not a man, I'm a woman," she said. And in a low voice which thrilled him, "A woman who wants a
child of her own!" His lean muscular right hand contracted sharply upon hers. She winced, drew back a little.
"Oh--I'm sorry!" he whispered. Then he asked her again,
"Will you marry me now?" She looked suddenly up:
"Let's wait awhile, please! It won't be long--I'm in love with you, Allan, I'm sure of that now! And I'm not
CHAPTER XVIII 75
drawing back, I'm not afraid! Oh, I want you to feel I'm not running away! What I want to do is to face this
square! It may be silly and foolish but--you see, I'm made like that. I want a little longer--I want to think it
out by myself."
* * * * *
When Allan had gone she came in to her father. And her radiant expression made him bounce up from his
chair.
"By George," he cried, "he asked you!"
"Yes!"
"And you've taken him!"
"No!"
Roger gasped.
"Look here!" he demanded, angrily. "What's the matter? Are you mad?" She threw back her head and laughed
at him.
"No, I'm not--I'm happy!"
"What the devil about?" he snapped.
"We're going to wait a bit, that's all, till we're sure of everything!" she cried.
"Then," said Roger disgustedly, "you're smarter than your father is. I'm sure of nothing--nothing! I have
never been sure in all my days! If I'd waited, you'd never have been born!"
"Oh, dearie," she begged him smilingly. "Please don't be so unhappy just now--"
"I've a right to be!" said Roger. "I see my house agog with this--in a turmoil--in a turmoil!"
* * * * *
But again he was mistaken. It was in fact astonishing how the old house quieted down. There came again one
of those peaceful times, when his home to Roger's senses seemed to settle deep, grow still, and gather itself
together. Day by day he felt more sure that Deborah was succeeding in making her work fit into her swiftly
deepening passion for a full happy woman's life. And why shouldn't they live here, Allan and she? The
thought of this dispelled the cloud which hung over the years he saw ahead. How smoothly things were
working out. The monstrous new buildings around his house seemed to him to draw back as though balked of
their prey.
On the mantle in Roger's study, for many years a bronze figure there, "The Thinker," huge and naked,
forbidding in its crouching pose, the heavy chin on one clenched fist, had brooded down upon him. And in the
years that had been so dark, it had been a figure of despair. Often he had looked up from his chair and grimly
met its frowning gaze. But Roger seldom looked at it now, and even when it caught his eye it had little effect
upon him. It appeared to brood less darkly. For though he did not think it out, there was this feeling in his
mind:
CHAPTER XIX 76
"There is to be nothing startling in this quiet home of mine, no crashing deep calamity here."
Only the steadily deepening love between a grown man and a woman mature, both sensible, strong people
with a firm control of their destinies. He felt so sure of this affair. For now, her tension once relaxed with the
success which had come to her after so many long hard years, a new Deborah was revealed, more human in
her yieldings. She let Allan take her off on the wildest little sprees uptown and out into the country. To Roger
she seemed younger, more warm and joyous and more free. He loved to hear her laugh these nights, to catch
the glad new tones in her voice.
"There is to be no tragedy here."
So, certain of this union and wistful for all he felt it would bring, Roger watched its swift approach. And when
the news came, he was sure he'd been right. Because it came so quietly.
"It's settled, dear, at last it's sure. Allan and I are to be married." She was standing by his chair. Roger reached
up and took her hand:
"I'm glad. You'll be very happy, my child."
She bent over and kissed him, and putting his arm around her he drew her down on the side of his chair.
"Now tell me all your plans," he said. And her answer brought him a deep peace.
"We're going abroad for the summer--and then if you'll have us we want to come here." Roger abruptly shut
his eyes.
"By George, Deborah," he said, "you do have a way of getting right into the heart of things!" His arm closed
about her with new strength and he felt all his troubles flying away.
"What a time we'll have, what a rich new life." Her deep sweet voice was a little unsteady. "Listen, dearie,
how quiet it is." And for some moments nothing was heard but the sober tick-tick of the clock on the mantle.
"I wonder what we're going to hear."
And they thought of new voices in the house.
CHAPTER XIX
Edith was radiant at the news.
"I do hope they're not going to grudge themselves a good long wedding trip!" she exclaimed.
"They're going abroad," said Roger.
"Oh, splendid! And the wedding! Church or home?"
"Home," said Roger blissfully, "and short and simple, not a frill. Just the family."
"Oh, that's so nice," sighed Edith. "I was afraid she'd want to drag in her school."
"School will be out by then," he said.
CHAPTER XIX 77
"Well, I hope it stays out--for the remainder of her days. She can't do both, and she'll soon see. Wait till she
has a child of her own."
"Well, she wants one bad enough."
"Yes, but can she?" Edith asked, with the engrossed expression which came on her pretty florid face whenever
she neared such a topic. She spoke with evident awkwardness. "That's the trouble. Is it too late? Deborah's [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]