“I haven’t done anything yet,” was Nathan’s answer, “not anything that really counts. I’ve felt as though I were waiting to get my fundamentals straight, my feet on firm ground. Then I’d really go on. Then I’d really plow ahead. Then I’d fight in earnest! When I’ve won, maybe I’ll sing again. Yes—perhaps!”
The heart-cry beneath his brave optimism and blind faith in the Ultimate Good was not lost on the girl. Lost on her? It surcharged her, overpowered her, surfeited through her and under her and about her till her calm eyes glowed starry again. It was like him. He would say it. She knew it years before—expected it.
And Bernie had made her believe that this man was a provincial, a “hick,” impossible! Poor Bernie! She had wanted a man who could wear a monocle without looking silly or lead a cotillion. And he was so big that little tinsel-worshiping Bernie couldn’t see him. So she struck him, scarred him, wounded him without knowing, discounting all Gentlewomen by her narrowness.
What this man needed was simple, pitifully simple. He needed some one in his life with the capacity to love greatly. All else would follow as a matter of normal dénouement.
“Dear boy,” she said huskily, “relax! Don’t worry any longer. Let all the past and pressure ease away. Let’s even forget that you’re a man and I’m a woman. Let’s see if we can’t just be good friends for a time—and help each other. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide, nothing to worry over, nothing to hold you or handicap you any more. You have courage. You have strength. You have inherent ability. You have hunger for beauty and divine discontent which the world needs more of. You have that great, indefinable, invaluable thing which the world calls Personality—your greatest asset! All life lies ahead of you. It’s flooded with color and sunshine. And you’re ‘leaping as a strong man to run a race.’ Wonderful! Start that race! Start for the Higher Hill Top. You can do it. All you need is some one to believe in you. Well, maybe there are far more people believing in you than you’ve ever dreamed. Keep the faith with them, even as you’ve kept it so far with yourself. Be true to your high calling wherewith you were called. Everything which has gone before has been Education. You have reached Commencement now. Ahead lies the world—the Battlefield! Go in with your Strongheart singing. Oh, dear boy, you deserve it so! I know you deserve it—the spoil—and the Hill Top!”
“God!” cried Nathan. He spoke the holy word in a way that kept it holy. A woman telling him this!
There was a pain like a knife-thrust in the back of his throat. He sat like a man turned to stone, scarcely daring to move. But he did move. He turned his face and looked up into—calm eyes. Calm eyes? But starry eyes too. They could be both. Verily they could be both.
With the self-assurance of the wise nurse—the woman of medicine perhaps at the moment—who knew what her patient needed more than all else for swift recovery—Madelaine gently drew Nathan toward her. She opened her lap.
Nathan’s face went down into that lap. That strong face was awash with hot, hard, terrible man-tears, though all the girl saw was a slight, intermittent, noiseless contraction of his broad shoulders.
But his one good talon hand stole out—halfway around her waist. A grip of iron!