The Business of Life

"The complacent tickler of phrases, the pseudo-intellectual scrambler after subtleties that do not exist, the smirking creators of the tortuous, the writhing explorers of the obvious, who pretend to find depths where there are shallows, the unusual where only the commonplace and wholesome exist – these will always parody real effort, and ape real talent in all creative professions, and do more damage than mere ignorance or even mere viciousness could ever accomplish. And, to my mind, that is all there is and all there ever will be to men like Munger."

Daisy laughed and looked at Herrendene.

"Then I've wasted your morning!" she said, pretending contrition.

He looked her straight in the eye.

"I hadn't thought of it that way," he said pleasantly.

Cairns, tired of feigning an interest in matters literary, tinkled the ice in his glass and looked appealingly at Cynthia. And his eyes said very plainly: "Shall we go for a walk?"

But she only smiled, affecting not to understand; and the discussion of things literary continued.

It was very pleasant there in the house; late sunshine slanted across the hall; a springlike breeze fluttered the curtains, and the evening song of the robins had begun, ringing cheerily among the Norway spruces and over the fresh green lawns.

"It's a shame to sit indoors on a day like this," said Desboro lazily.

Everybody agreed, but nobody stirred, except Cairns, who fidgeted and looked at Cynthia.

Perhaps that maiden's heart softened, for she rose presently, and drifted off into the music room. Cairns followed. The others listened to her piano playing, conversing, too, at intervals, until Daisy gave the signal to go, and Herrendene rose.

So the adieux were said, and a wood ramble for the morrow suggested. Then Daisy and her Captain went away across the fields on foot, and Cynthia returned to the piano, Cairns following at heel, as usual.

Jacqueline and Desboro, lingering by the open door, saw the distant hills turn to purest cobalt, and the girdling woodlands clothe themselves in purple haze. Dusk came stealing across the meadows, and her frail ghosts floated already over the alder-hidden brook. A near robin sang loudly. A star came out between naked branches and looked at them.

"How still the world has grown," breathed Jacqueline. "Except for its silence, night with all its beauties would be unendurable."

"I believe we both need quiet," he said.

"Yes, quiet – and each other."

Her voice had fallen so exquisitely low that he bent his head to catch her words. But when he understood what she had said, he turned and looked at her; and, still gazing on the coming night, she leaned a little nearer to him, resting her cheek lightly against his shoulder.

"That is what we need," she whispered, " – silence, and each other. Don't you think so, Jim?"

"I need you– your love and faith and – forgiveness," he said huskily.

"You have them all. Now give me yours, Jim."

"I give you all – except forgiveness. I have nothing to forgive."

"You dear boy – you don't know – you will never know how much you have to forgive me. But if I told you, I know you'd do it. So – let it rest – forgotten forever. How fragrant the night is growing! And I can hear the brook at intervals when the wind changes – very far away – very far – as far as fairyland – as far as the abode of the Maker of Moons."

"Who was he, dear?"

"Yu Lao. It's Chinese – and remote – lost in mystery eternal – where the white soul of her abides who went forth 'between tall avenues of spears, to die.' And that is where all things go at last, Jim – even the world and the moon and stars – all things – even love – returning to the source of all."

His arm had fallen around her waist. Presently, in the dusk, he felt her cool, fresh hand seeking for his, drawing his arm imperceptibly closer.

In the unlighted music room Cynthia's piano was silent.

Presently Jacqueline's cheek touched his, rested against it.

"I never knew I could feel so safe," she murmured. "I am – absolutely – contented."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"You have no fear of me now?"

"No. But don't kiss me – yet," she whispered, tightening his arm around her.

He laughed softly: "Your Royal Shyness is so wonderful – so wonderful – so worshipful and adorable! When may I kiss you?"

"When – we are alone."

"Will you respond – when we are alone?"

But she only pressed her flushed cheek against his shoulder, clinging there in silence, eyes closed.

A few seconds later they started guiltily apart, as Cairns came striding excitedly out of the darkness:

"I'm going to get married! I'm going to get married!" he repeated breathlessly. "I've asked her, but she is crying! Isn't it wonderful! Isn't it wonderful! Isn't it won – "

"You!" exclaimed Jacqueline, "and Cynthia! The darling!"

"I said she was one! I called her that, too!" said Cairns, excitedly. "And she began to cry. So I came out here – and I think she's going to accept me in a minute or two! Isn't it wonderful! Isn't it won – "

"You lunatic!" cried Desboro, seizing and shaking him, " – you incoherent idiot! If that girl is in there crying all alone, what are you doing out here?"

"I don't know," said Cairns vacantly. "I don't know what I'm doing. All this is too wonderful for me. I thought she knew me too well to care for me. But she only began to cry. And I am going – "

He bolted back into the dark music room. Desboro and Jacqueline gazed at each other.

"That man is mad!" snapped her husband. "But – I believe she means to take him. Don't you?"

"Why – I suppose so," she managed to answer, stifling a violent inclination to laugh.

They listened shamelessly. They stood there for a long while, listening. And at last two shadowy figures appeared coming toward them very slowly. One walked quietly into Jacqueline's arms; the other attempted it with Desboro, and was repulsed.

"You're not French, you know," said the master of the house, shaking hands with him viciously. "Never did I see such a blooming idiot as you can be – but if Cynthia can stand you, I'll have to try."

Jacqueline whispered: "Cynthia and I want to be alone for a little while. Take him away, Jim."

So Desboro lugged off the happy but demoralised suitor and planted him in a library chair vigorously.

"Now," he said, "how about it? Has she accepted you?"