Iole Part 11

The finger-tips of Lissa and Harrow still touched, scarcely clinging; they had turned toward one another when the curtain fell. But the play, to them, had been a pantomime of silhouettes, the stage, a void edged with flame--the scene, the audience, the theater, the poet himself as unreal and meaningless as the shadowy att.i.tudes of the shapes that vanished when the phantom curtain closed its folds.

And through the subdued light, turning noiselessly, they peered at one another, conscious that naught else was real in the misty, golden-tinted gloom; that they were alone together there in a formless, soundless chaos peopled by shapes impalpable as dreams.

"_Now_ tell me," she said, her lips scarcely moving as the soft voice stirred them like carmine petals stirring in a scented breeze.

"Tell you that it is--love?"

"Yes, tell me."

"That I love you, Lissa?"

"Yes; that!"

He stooped nearer; his voice was steady and very low, and she leaned with bent head to listen, clear-eyed, intelligent, absorbed.

"So _that_ is love--what you tell me?"

"Yes--partly."

"And the other part?"

"The other part is when you find you love me."

"I--do. I think it must be love, because I can't bear to have you go away. Besides, I wish you to tell me--things."

"Ask me."

"Well--when two--like you and me, begin to love--what happens?"

"We confess it----"

"I do; I'm not ashamed.... Should I be? And then?"

"Then?" he faltered.

"Yes; do we kiss?... For I am curious to have you do it--I am so certain I shall adore you when you do.... I wish we could go away somewhere together.... But we can't do that until I am a bride, can we? Oh--do you really want me?"

"Can you ask?" he breathed.

"Ask? Yes--yes.... I love to ask! Your hand thrills me. We can't go away now, can we? It took Iole so long to be permitted to go away with Mr.

Wayne--all that time lost in so many foolish ways--when a girl is so impatient.... Is it not strange how my heart beats when I look into your eyes? Oh, there can be no doubt about it, I am dreadfully in love....

And so quickly, too. I suppose it's because I am in such splendid health; don't you?"

"I--I--well----"

"Oh, I _do_ want to get up at once and go away with you! _Can't_ we?

I could explain to father."

"Wait!" he gasped, "he--he's asleep. Don't speak--don't touch him."

"How unselfish you are," she breathed. "No, you are not hurting my fingers. Tell me more--about love and the blessed years awaiting us, and about our children--oh, is it not wonderful!"

"Ex--extremely," he managed to mutter, touching his suddenly dampened forehead with his handkerchief, and attempting to set his thoughts in some sort of order. He could not; the incoherence held him speechless, dazed, under the magic of this superb young being instinct with the soft fire of life.

Her loveliness, her innocence, the beautiful, direct gaze, the childlike fulness of mouth and contour of cheek and throat, left him spellbound.

The very air around them seemed suffused with the vital glow of her youth and beauty; each breath they drew increased their wonder, till the whole rosy universe seemed thrilling and singing at their feet, and they two, love-crowned, alone, saw Time and Eternity flowing like a golden tide under the spell of Paradise.

"Jim!"

The hoa.r.s.e whisper of Lethbridge shook the vision from him; he turned a flushed countenance to his friend; but Cybele spoke:

"We are very tired sitting here. We would like to take some tea at Sherry's," she whispered. "What do you think we had better do? It seems so--so futile to sit here--when we wish to be alone together----"

"You and Henry, too!" gasped Harrow.

"Yes; do you wonder?" She leaned swiftly in front of him; a fragrant breeze stirred his hair. "Lissa, I'm desperately infatuated with Mr.

Lethbridge. Do you see any use in our staying here when I'm simply dying to have him all to myself somewhere?"

"No, it is silly. I wish to go, too. Shall we?"

"You need not go," began Cybele; then stopped, aware of the new magic in her sister's eyes. "Lissa! Lissa!" she said softly. "_You_, too! Oh, my dear--my dearest!"

"Dear, is it not heavenly? I--I--was quite sure that if I ever had a good chance to talk to a man I really liked something would happen. And it has."

"If Philodice might awaken father perhaps he would let us go now,"

whispered Cybele. "Henry says it does not take more than an hour----"

"To become a bride?"

"Yes; he knows a clergyman very near----"

"Do you?" inquired Lissa. Lethbridge nodded and gave a scared glance at Harrow, who returned it as though stunned.

"But--but," muttered the latter, "your father doesn't know who we are----"

"Oh, yes, he does," said Cybele calmly, "for he sent you the tickets and placed us near you so that if we found that we liked you we might talk to you----"

"Only he made a mistake in your name," added Lissa to Harrow, "for he wrote 'Stanley West, Esq.' on the envelope. I know because I mailed it."

"Invited West--put _you_ where you could--good G.o.d!"

"What is the matter?" whispered Lissa in consternation; "have--have I said anything I should not?" And, as he was silent: "What is it? Have I hurt you--I who----"

There was a silence; she looked him through and through and, after a while, deep, deep in his soul, she saw, awaking once again, all he had deemed dead--the truth, the fearless reason, the sweet and faultless instinct of the child whose childhood had become a memory. Then, once more spiritually equal, they smiled at one another; and Lissa, pausing to gather up her ermine stole, pa.s.sed noiselessly out to the aisle, where she stood, perfectly self-possessed, while her sister joined her, smiling vaguely down at the firing-line and their lifted battery of blue, inquiring eyes.

The poet--and whether he had slumbered or not n.o.body but himself is qualified to judge--the poet pensively opened one eye and peeped at Harrow as that young man bent beside him with Lethbridge at his elbow.

"In sending those two tickets you have taught us a new creed," whispered Harrow; "you have taught us innocence and simplicity--you have taught us to be ourselves, to scorn convention, to say and do what we believe.

Thank you."