The Definite Object Part 76

"You sure are, glory be t' th' Lord of Hosts to who I have also pet.i.tioned frequent on your behoof. An' now I'll call th' doctor."

"No, no--not Dennison; let me see her first. Can't I speak to Hermione first, Mrs. Trapes?"

"She was up with you all las' night, sweet lamb! It'd be a shame to wake her--"

"So it would--don't disturb her."

"But I guess she'd never forgive me if I didn't wake her. So if you'll promise t' be good--"

"I will!"

"An' not go gettin' all worked up an' excited?"

"I will not!"

"Why then, perhaps ten minutes wouldn't hurt."

"G.o.d bless you, Mrs. Trapes!"

Left alone, he tried to sit up, and finding this strangely difficult, examined his hands and arms, scowling to find himself so weak. Then he clapped hand to bony jaw and was shocked to feel thereon a growth of ragged beard, and then--she was before him. Fresh from her slumbers she came, wrapped in a scanty kimono whose thin, clinging folds revealed more of her shapely beauty than he had ever seen as she hurried across the wide chamber.

"Hermione," he said, and reached out his hands to her. And his voice was no longer the feeble echo it had been; the hand that clasped hers, though still thin and weak, thrilled her anew with its masterful touch.

Because of all this, her words of tender greeting remained unspoken, the arms which had been eager to cradle his helplessness crossed themselves on her bosom; she became aware of naked ankles and of bare feet thrust into bedroom slippers and needs must hide them, and the better to do so, sank upon the bed, her feet tucked under her. So she sat, just beyond his reach, and, conscious of scanty draperies, shook her s.h.i.+ning hair about her, veiling herself in its glory.

"Hermione," he said unsteadily, "I--I never knew quite how beautiful you were--and we--we are married, it seems!"

"Yes," she said softly.

"And now I'm--I'm afraid I'm going to--live!"

"Afraid?"

"It--it almost seems as though I had married you under false pretences, doesn't it? But the doctors and everybody were so certain I was to die that I thought so too. And now--I'm going to live, it seems."

She was silent, and slowly his hand went out to her again, and slowly hers went to meet it, but though her fingers clasped and twined, thrilling in mute pa.s.sion to his touch, she came no nearer, but watched him from the shadow of her hair with great troubled eyes.

"Dear," he said, very humbly, "you do--love me still, don't you?"

"More than ever."

"Then you're not--sorry to be my wife?"

"No--ah, no, no!" she whispered, "never that!"

"Then, dear, won't you--will you kiss me?" Seeing she hesitated, he sank back on his pillow and laughed a little ruefully. "I forgot these confounded whiskers--I must look an unholy object. Patterson shall shave me, and then perhaps--"

But sudden and warm and soft her arms were about him, and her eyes, troubled no longer, gazed into his, brimful of yearning tenderness.

"Oh, my dear, my dear," she murmured, quick and pa.s.sionate, "as if I should ever care how you looked as long as you were--just you. My dear, my dear, you have come back to me from the very gates of death because I--I--"

"Because you nursed me so tenderly!"

"Ah, no, there were others to do that--no, G.o.d gave you back to me because He is merciful, and because I love you--want you--need you so much!"

"Oh, my Hermione--Kiss me!"

A knock at the door, and, quick-breathing, she drew from him as the voice of Mrs. Trapes reached them.

"Ten minutes is up!" she announced as she entered, "and Hermy, if you don't want th' doctor t' see you in your nightdress an' that--"

"Ann!" gasped Hermione, drawing the folds of her kimono about her.

"Anyway, he's coming."

Up sprang Hermione, in doing which she lost a slipper.

"Give it me!" she pleaded, for Ravenslee had caught it up.

"Dear, you have one--be content," he answered. "And surely I may kiss my wife's slipper without you having to blush so--so deliciously, Hermione?"

"It's so--old and shabby!" said she faintly.

"That's why I kiss it."

"An' here comes th' doctor!" said Mrs. Trapes. Whereat Hermione incontinent fled away, white foot agleam. Then Ravenslee, having kissed the little slipper quite brazenly under Mrs. Trapes's staring eyes, tucked it beneath his pillow.

"Why, Mr. Geoffrey!" said Mrs. Trapes.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

CONCERNING A CLEW

"Mrs. Trapes," said Ravenslee, laying aside the book he had been reading and letting his glance wander across smooth lawns and clipped yew hedges, "Mrs. Trapes, what about that stewed s.h.i.+n of beef with carrots and onions you prepared for--our wedding supper?"

"Which," said Mrs. Trapes, glancing up from her everlasting knitting, "which you never stopped to eat."

"Which omission I will now haste to rectify. Mrs. Trapes, pray go and get it ready--I'm ravenous!"

"Good f'r you!" said Mrs. Trapes; "in about half an hour you shall have a nice cup of beef tea to raven at--"

"Confounded slops!" growled Ravenslee.

"Doctor's orders!" nodded Mrs. Trapes, clicking her knitting needles.

"Can't I have something to chew at?"