WHEN HALF-GODS GO
There was a silence, for if the dazzled young man could have spoken at all, The could have found nothing to say;and, perhaps, the lady would not trust her own voice just then.His eyes had fallen again; he was too dazed, and, in truth, too panic-stricken, now, to look at her, though if he had been quite sure that she was part of a wonderful dream he might have dared.She was seated beside him, and had handed him her parasol in a little way which seemed to imply that of course he had reached for it, so that it was to be seen how used she was to have all tiny things done for her, though this was not then of his tremulous observing.He did perceive, however, that he was to furl the dainty thing; he pressed the catch, and let down the top timidly, as if fearing to break or tear it; and, as it closed, held near his face, he caught a very faint, sweet, spicy emanation from it like wild roses and cinnamon.
He did not know her; but his timidity and a strange little choke in his throat, the sudden fright which had seized upon him, were not caused by embarrassment.He had no thought that she was one he had known but could not, for the moment, recall; there was nothing of the awkwardness of that; no, he was overpowered by the miracle of this meeting.And yet, white with marvelling, he felt it to be so much more touchingly a great happiness than he had ever known that at first it was inexpressibly sad.
At last he heard her voice again, shaking a little, as she said:
"I am glad you remembered."
"Remembered what?" he faltered.
"Then you don't?" she cried."And yet you came.""Came here, do you mean?""Yes--now, at noon."
"Ah!" he half whispered, unable to speak aloud.
"Was it you who said--who said, `Remember!
Across--across--"'
"`Across Main Street bridge at noon!' " she finished for him, gently."Yes."He took a deep breath in the wonder of it.
"Where was it you said that?" he asked, slowly.
"Was it last night?"
"Don't you even know that you came to meet me?""_I_--came to--to meet--you!"She gave a little pitying cry, very near a sob, seeing his utter bewilderment.
"It was like the strangest dream in the world,"she said."You were at the station when I came, last night.You don't remember at all?"His eyes downcast, his face burning hotly, he could only shake his head.
"Yes," she continued."I thought no one would be there, for I had not written to say what train I should take, but when I stepped down from the platform, you were standing there;though you didn't see me at first, not until I had called your name and ran to you.You said, `I've come to meet you,' but you said it queerly, Ithought.And then you called a carriage for me;but you seemed so strange you couldn't tell how you knew that I was coming, and--and then I--Iunderstood you weren't yourself.You were very quiet, but I knew, I knew! So I made you get into the carriage--and--and--"She faltered to a stop, and with that, shame itself brought him courage; he turned and faced her.She had lifted her handkerchief to her eyes, but at his movement she dropped it, and it was not so much the delicate loveliness of her face that he saw then as the tears upon her cheeks.
"Ah, poor boy!" she cried."I knew! I knew!""You--you took me home?""You told me where you lived," she answered.
"Yes, I took you home."
"I don't understand," he stammered, huskily.
"I don't understand!"
She leaned toward him slightly, looking at him with great intentness.
"You didn't know me last night," she said."Do you know me now?"For answer he could only stare at her, dumfounded.He lifted an unsteady hand toward her appealingly.But the manner of the lady, as she saw the truth, underwent an April change.
She drew back lightly; he was favored with the most delicious, low laugh he had ever heard, and, by some magic whisk which she accomplished, there was no sign of tears about her.
"Ah! I'm glad you're the same, Joe!" she said.
"You never would or could pretend very well.
I'm glad you're the same, and I'm glad I've changed, though that isn't why you have forgotten me.You've forgotten me because you never thought of me.Perhaps I should not have known you if you had changed a great deal--as Ihave!"He started, leaning back from her.
"Ah!" she laughed."That's it! That funny little twist of the head you always had, like a--like a--well, you know I must have told you a thousand times that it was like a nice friendly puppy; so why shouldn't I say so now? And your eyebrows! When you look like that, nobody could ever forget you, Joe!"He rose from the log, and the mongrel leaped upon him uproariously, thinking they were to go home, belike to food.
The lady laughed again."Don't let him spoil my parasol.And I must warn you now: Never, never TREAD ON MY SKIRT! I'm very irritable about such things!"He had taken three or four uncertain backward steps from her.She sat before him, radiant with laughter, the loveliest creature he had ever seen;but between him and this charming vision there swept, through the warm, scented June air, a veil of snow like a driven fog, and, half obscured in the heart of it, a young girl stood, knee-deep in a drift piled against an old picket gate, her black water-proof and shabby skirt flapping in the blizzard like torn sails, one of her hands out-stretched toward him, her startled eyes fixed on his.
"And, oh, how like you," said the lady; "how like you and nobody else in the world, Joe, to have a yellow dog!""ARIEL TABOR!"His lips formed the words without sound.
"Isn't it about time?" she said."Are strange ladies in the HABIT of descending from trains to take you home?"Once, upon a white morning long ago, the sensational progress of a certain youth up Main Street had stirred Canaan.But that day was as nothing to this.Mr.Bantry had left temporary paralysis in his wake; but in the case of the two young people who passed slowly along the street to-day it was petrifaction, which seemingly threatened in several instances (most notably that of Mr.Arp)to become permanent.
