I dare say that neither Miss Willie nor I heard very much of that last act in spite of its moonlit châlet among the leaves. But one picture I carried away with me and the sound of one voice. They were those of a girl, a very happy girl, waiting at the door of the châlet.
“Dear,” she said to her sweetheart, “if we had never met, if we had never seen each other, it seems as if my love for you would have followed you without my knowing. Maybe some day you would have heard it knocking at your heart, and you would have called it a wish or a dream.”
Afterward I recalled that I was saying over those words as we made our way up the aisle.
We were almost the last to leave the theater. I like that final glimpse of a place where happy people have just been. We found the coupé and a frantic carriageman put us in, very gently, though he banged the door in that fashion which seems to be the only outlet to a carriageman’s emotions.
“Good-night,” said Miss Willie Lillieblade at my door, and gave my hand an unwonted lingering touch. I knew why. Dear, starved heart, she must have longed for years to talk about that boy. I watched her coupé roll toward the great lonely house. Never tell me that the boy who died in Switzerland was not beside her hearth waiting her coming.
Our drawing-room was dimly lighted. I took off my bonnet there and found myself longing for my tea. I am wont to ring for Nichola only upon stately occasions and certainly not at times when in her eyes I tremble on the brink of “losing my immortal soul at this late day.” Accordingly I went down to the kitchen.
I cautiously pushed open the door, for I am frankly afraid of Nichola who is in everything a frightful non-conformist. There was no fire on the hearth, but the bracket lamp was lighted and on a chair lay Nichola’s best shawl. Nichola, in her best black frock and wearing her best bonnet, was just arranging the tea-things on a tray.
“I’m glad that you’ve been out, Nichola,” said I gently—as gently as a truant child, I fancy!—“It is such a beautiful day.”
“Who,” Nichola said grimly without looking at me, “said I’d been out?”
“Why, I saw you—” I began.