Leave Her to Heaven (12 page)

Then, across the fire, through the tongued tips of the flames, their eyes met and held, and she gave him her eyes unmasked and full of yearning. They looked at each other for a long moment, neither speaking nor moving; and then with her eyes she drew him so that he came around the fire to stand above her. She knew the hour she had dreamed was come. Her eyes still held his, insistent and compelling.

With a low wordless cry Harland dropped on his knee. He set his hands on her bare shoulders, gripping hard, so that she felt his fingers bruise the soft flesh. She still watched him, eyes wide and waiting; and he leaned down, and when he did so, her lips reached hungrily to his. He kissed her with a sort of violence, crushing her lips, lifting her close to him by his grip upon her shoulders; and she tasted his lips against her teeth between her soft lips faintly parted. She threw her cool arms around his neck, tightening them there half stranglingly, holding him hard.

He spoke against her lips, words without meaning, and her arms tugged harder; but then her head fell back, and looking up at him, the firelight sending flickering shadows across her face, she spoke, low and tense and fiercely triumphant now.

‘I will never let you go,' she whispered.

If in her word and in her eyes he saw something implacable and unyielding, so that for a moment he felt a deep alarm, she did not know it; for in that instant from across the flood they heard a long halloo. Harland leaped to his feet to answer. The rescuers had come.

Ellen when she heard that distant halloo felt a jealous disappointment, wishing she and Harland might have had this hour alone; but Harland hurried at once to the water's edge to shout that they were safe, and she followed him. When she came to his side, the moon, almost at the full, had risen; and now that the skies were clear the night was bright. She saw someone swimming his horse across to them, and she pulled Harland's head down and kissed him and said laughingly:

‘There! Now I must go make myself decent!'

She slipped away through the trees back to the fire, and Harland waited till Charlie Yates, bringing a vacuum bottle of coffee and a packet of sandwiches, reached the shore where he stood. When they came together to Ellen she was fully clad again.
Charlie said Robie and Lin were on the other bank, and that Robie had sent word back to the ranch that they were found; and since the water now fell as swiftly as it had risen, the others were presently able to cross with the led horses, and with dry clothes for both Ellen and Harland which Mrs. Robie's forethought had provided. They left Ellen by the fire to change again while Harland told Glen and the others the tale of their adventure; and a little after midnight they came home to the ranch.

When she heard Ellen was safe, Mrs. Berent, exhausted by her day in the saddle, had gone to bed; but Ruth and Mrs. Robie and Tess were waiting. Ellen, overflowing with triumphant happiness that embraced all the world, kissed each one of them; and she felt Ruth's glad astonishment — it was years since they had kissed each other — and said in ironic apology:

‘I'm sorry, dear. It's just that I'm so happy!'

She saw Ruth's quick understanding, saw her look at Harland. Then Tess excitedly demanded to know all they had endured, and Ellen told the story of their arduous journey down the canyon, her eyes forever turning to Harland in proud possession. When she was done, Mrs. Robie said in a quiet concern:

‘You must be tired after all that. I think we'd better all go right to bed.'

Ellen nodded. Harland was beside her. ‘Good night,' she told him softly. ‘I'll meet you at the pool at seven.' Mrs. Robie said they might sleep late if they chose, but Ellen protested: ‘Mercy, no! I don't want to miss any of our last day here.' Her eyes met Harland's once more as she turned with Ruth toward the stairs.

Ruth said Mrs. Berent had bidden them wake her. When Ellen softly opened the door, her mother snapped on the bedside light. ‘Come in, come in!' she exclaimed. ‘Don't stand there whispering.' Then as she saw them: ‘Well, I see you're not drowned! You were bound to go. I hope you're satisfied!'

‘Oh, I am! I am!' Ellen cried, her eyes dancing, looking toward Ruth as though they shared a secret, and Mrs. Berent saw that glance.

‘Eh?' she demanded. ‘What are you grinning at? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. You're practically licking your chops!' And then, in shrewd conjecture: ‘I can guess what you've been up to! Well! I thought Mr. Harland had more sense!'

Ellen laughed and leaned down to kiss her. ‘You don't fool me, darling,' she said affectionately. ‘I know you're really as happy as I am — if only for my sake.' And she told them both, lifting her arms, whirling around in a sort of dance, carolling in delight: ‘Yes, it's true! It's true! It's true! It's true, true, true; and we're going to be married right away, before we leave here, day after tomorrow...' She saw the travelling clock on the table by the bed. ‘No, yesterday's gone! So we're going to be married tomorrow morning!'

Mrs. Berent, with a grim deliberation, sat up in bed to join battle. ‘Now, Ellen Berent, you'll do nothing of the kind!' she said flatly.

Ellen was still soft with happiness. ‘Hush, Mother! It's all settled,' she declared.

‘Settled, my foot! It's not decent, Ellen. As good as engaged to one man and marrying another! What does Mr. Harland say to that?'

Ellen's eyes twinkled. ‘Oh, he doesn't even know we're going to be married in the morning.' There was music in her tones and a singing in her veins. ‘I haven't told him, but it's settled all the same!' she cried.

‘It's not settled till I've had my say!' her mother insisted strongly. ‘Wait till fall and I won't say a word; but I won't have this marry-me-quick business! It looks too much like a force-put! '

Ellen felt her cheeks flush with the anger which opposition always roused in her. ‘“What will people say?”' she suggested in a light, scornful tone. ‘Is that what worries you, Mother? Haven't you any other standard?'

‘It's better than having no standard at all except your own wants,' Mrs. Berent retorted. ‘You've always done exactly as you chose, Ellen, but not this time!'

Ellen hesitated, wishing it were possible to avoid an outright defiance. ‘Do we have to quarrel tonight, Mother? It's the first time I've ever been completely happy, like a brimming cup. Must you spoil it?' She looked at Ruth appealingly. The other girl sat on her bed, facing Mrs. Berent, and Ellen sought her support, sat down beside her and, as though unconsciously, caught her hand and held it. She knew Ruth's capacity for affection, played upon it now. ‘Don't you want me to be happy, Mother? Richard and I are just being sensible. His brother has infantile, and has to stay in Georgia, and Richard must go straight back to him; and he needs me, and I need him. We want to be together! I must go with him, Mother. I want to be with him always!'

She saw that the older woman was shaken, but as though to fortify her position Mrs. Berent cried: ‘Want! Want! Want! That's all you ever think of, Ellen; what you want! What others want never means anything to you!'

Ellen pressed Ruth's hand, wishing the other would speak without prompting, would take her side. ‘But Mother darling, it's my life,' she urged. ‘Mine and Richard's.'

Mrs. Berent pleaded: ‘Well, you're my life, you and Ruth, Ellen.' And she said weakly: ‘All I'm asking is that you wait a little, a few weeks, wait till fall.' Her eyes filled.

Ellen made an exasperated sound. ‘Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't start sniffling, Mother.' She rose, her voice hardening. ‘There's nothing to discuss, anyway. I'm of age. But even if there were anything to talk about, crying wouldn't help.' She still held Ruth's hand, and she turned to her now, bent and kissed her cheek and felt quick affection in Ruth respond to that caress, and thought in a derisive inner scorn that Ruth was like a dog which, no matter how many kicks it may have received, comes at a kind word, tail wagging, to its master's hand. She played on the other's hunger for her love. ‘Make Mother see my point of view, Ruth,' she urged.

Ruth hesitated. ‘Why Mother,' she said honestly, ‘I do think that if I wanted to marry a man, and he wanted to marry me, and people objected, I'd think they were pretty unreasonable.'

‘There, you see, Mother!' Ellen cried.

‘I want you to be married decently, at home, and not in such a tearing hurry!'

‘Lovers are always in a hurry,' Ellen declared, laughing again. ‘Love's in a hurry, Mother, like a racing river.'

‘I'll never consent to it,' Mrs. Berent insisted. ‘Not this helter-skelter business!'

Ellen faced her with hot eyes, hating these weak and ineffectual protestations. Since her mother had to yield, why could she not surrender gracefully? ‘You know you can't prevent my doing as I choose,' she said in icy tones.

‘No, I never could.'

‘Then why not be nice about it? Why make me unhappy when to do so can't accomplish anything?'

Mrs. Berent looked at her for a long moment; then she lay down and turned on her side, her back to them. ‘Very well,' she said grimly. ‘You've always had your own way. I can't expect you to change. I'll dance at your wedding, my dear.'

Ellen had hoped to be alone with Harland at the pool next morning; but Robie and Tess and Lin appeared, and it was not till after breakfast that she was able to draw him away with her into the garden. When she told him her plan — that they should be married here at the ranch, so that she could go to Georgia with him — he was surprised and doubtful; but Ellen said surely:

‘It's so sensible, my darling! Do you expect me to go back to Boston, to Bar Harbor, and let you go off to Georgia all alone? Don't be ridiculous! For one thing, I want to see Danny, right away. I want to get to know him. I'll sit with him, read to him, talk to him, keep him happy while you go back to your work again; and when you're through working every day, we can all be together. Won't that be fun? You need me, darling; and oh, I need you so. I want you so!' In his arms she whispered breathlessly, half-sobbing: ‘I'll die if we're ever parted again!' She felt
resistance in him still, and flooded him with tenderness that broke it down.

He made at last only one condition. She must telegraph Quinton, tell him the truth.

‘But of course, dearest!' she assented. ‘I was going to! I'll even let you read the telegram. Give me paper and pencil. I'll write it right now!' He confessed that he had neither pencil nor paper, and she laughed at him. ‘A fine author you are! How do you ever expect to write anything?'

‘I've plenty in my room.'

‘Then we'll go get them.' She caught his hand and led him indoors and upstairs, hurrying, hurrying, hurrying, deliberately giving him no time to make objections; and when they were alone and the door was closed behind them, she kissed him in rapturous ardor, and felt triumphantly his full surrender. He gave her pen and paper, and she wrote a swift scrawl:

She turned to Harland. ‘There!' she said.

He read what she had written and chuckled; but then he said seriously: ‘Good God, Ellen, you don't have to kick him in the teeth! After all, the man loves you! That ought to entitle him to some consideration.'

She challenged mischievously: ‘Will you always be so considerate of my lovers?'

‘Think how he'll feel when he gets this!'

‘I don't seem to be able to think much about him,' she admitted, her eyes full of tenderness. ‘You've crowded everything else out of me, Richard; everything but you.'

He took another sheet of paper, took the pen. ‘I'll write it,' he decided, and sat down at the desk, and she perched on the arm of his chair, watching over his shoulder. He made one or two false starts, wrote at last:

When he finished, it was her turn to laugh. ‘Mercy, you're extravagant! It will cost a fortune to send that. Do you always have to write a book to say what you mean? Never mind, we can send it as a night letter.' She picked up the paper, read again what he had written. ‘But Richard, this doesn't sound a bit like me! It's so literary!' She added, smiling at him, teasing him: ‘And you don't mention yourself at all? Skeered, Mister?'

‘Leave me out! That would just be rubbing it in. This gives him a chance to be generous, to release you.'

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘I don't think Russ is particularly generous,' she reflected, then laughed in tender assent. ‘But I'll send this if you say so; darling. Night letter?'

‘No,' he insisted, ‘a telegram.' He added: ‘I'd feel a lot better if we had an answer from him before — tomorrow.'

‘He won't give us his blessing,' she warned him.

‘Well, send it anyway.'

‘Aye, aye, sir.' She kissed him, clinging to him, whispering ardently: ‘My dear, dear man!'

When the message was gone, Harland insisted that they seek her mother. Ellen had misgivings about that interview, but Mrs. Berent's surrender of the night before had been complete.

‘Take her and welcome, Mr. Harland,' the old woman said, when he had spoken. ‘And I wish you joy of her! She'll eat you alive and gnaw your bones!'

Harland laughed, but Mrs. Berent did not. Ellen nibbled playfully at his cheek. ‘See, I'm beginning to eat you up already,' she whispered. Then, catching his hand, she cried: ‘Now let's go tell Mr. and Mrs. Robie. After all, if we're going to be married in their house, they have a right to know!'

She swept him away. When Robie heard what they planned, she saw his startled glance turn doubtfully toward Harland, but
he gave them congratulations, and Mrs. Robie met this emergency as she met all others, with at least outward composure. There was some talk of details, and Ellen, exactly sure what she wanted, made every decision. Watching Harland, she felt uneasy reluctance in him; and she decided that he must have no chance to voice his misgivings. Robie said there was no minister in the little village near the ranch. The nearest was fifty miles away. ‘But we can telephone him and he'll be glad to come,' he said.

‘No, no,' Ellen insisted. ‘That's not dignified. You and Richard drive over and talk to him. And you help Richard see about the license, Mr. Robie; and I must have a ring!' She thrust them toward the door. ‘Go on, go on,' she urged laughingly. She kissed Harland good-bye. ‘That's the last one till we're married, darling,' she warned him. ‘You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, you know!'

So they drove away, and Ellen and Ruth and Tess and Mrs. Robie began to plan and to devise. Ellen wished to be married in the pergola by the pool, and Mrs. Robie said flowers must be found and arranged, and Ruth and Ellen discussed what Ellen should wear. They were busy all morning, and after lunch Ellen announced that she was exhausted and went to her room, excluding even Ruth. Harland and Robie had not yet returned, and she was still alone there when Quinton's telegram was telephoned from the station.

Tess took it over the phone and brought it to Ellen. Quinton had wired:

Ellen read it with a flashing glance, and Tess said doubtfully: ‘Maybe I shouldn't have taken it, but I didn't know what it was.' Then she asked in uncontrollable curiosity: ‘Who is he, Ellen?'

Ellen caught in her tone the accent of doubt, and for a moment there was an inner hardening in her. ‘A man old enough to be my father,' she explained. ‘One of Father's friends, in fact.
He's always insisted he'd wait for me and marry me when I grew up, ever since I was a little girl. He even thinks we're engaged! He gave me a ring I used to wear sometimes.'

‘I noticed it when you first came.'

‘He's awful,' Ellen assured her. ‘Fat, and bald, and hairs in his nose!' Tess laughed gleefully at this description; and Ellen remembered that Harland must not see the telegram, and she tore it across and across and tossed it aside. ‘That for Mr. Quinton!' she exclaimed. Then, quickly enlisting the other as her ally: ‘Tess, you must stay with me every minute from now on. There are people coming for dinner, aren't there?'

‘Yes, Mother planned it a week ago. They're just friends from the ranches around here, but that means some of them are driving a hundred miles. Of course she could call it off.'

‘No, she mustn't! That's all the better! But you be my chaperone, Tess. Don't leave Richard and me alone a minute.'

‘Oh, the poor man!'

‘I'll make it up to him,' Ellen declared. ‘Maybe it's a foolish notion, but — brides have a right to have notions, don't you think? So you stick to me like a burr! Promise?'

Tess was delighted to be a party to this conspiracy; and she stayed with Ellen till time to dress for dinner. Harland, when he and Robie returned, came to the door and knocked; but Ellen called:

‘You can't come in, darling. Tess and I are busy. Did you get everything?'

She felt his hesitation through the closed door. ‘Yes, everything's all set,' he assented.

‘Wonderful! Then I'll see you later. I love you.'

‘I — wanted to talk to you.'

‘We'll have all our lives to talk together. 'Bye.'

She heard him go away, and Tess whispered, her eyes dancing: ‘He sounded so forlorn!'

‘He's just scared,' Ellen laughingly assured her. ‘But bridegrooms always are!'

At dinner — Ellen had arranged this with Mrs. Robie —
she and Harland were seated the length of the table apart; but Robie announced their plans, and invited everyone to stay for the wedding, and toasts were drunk to them, and Harland and then Ellen responded. But Ellen was thinking of Quinton, wondering how he would come, whether he would fly, how soon he would arrive; and she was desperate with haste. When they rose from the table, she drew Tess to her side; and almost at once she excused herself, turning away upstairs. Harland saw her move away and came after her; but Ellen — holding fast to Tess — told him smilingly:

‘No, you mustn't, dearest! It isn't done!' She kissed him lightly. ‘There! Au revoir, my darling.'

When her door was closed, she leaned against it, shivering, her teeth chattering; and Tess was half-frightened, coming close to her, holding both her hands. But after a moment Ellen was herself again. ‘It's all right, Tess, perfectly all right,' she said breathlessly. ‘I'm excited, of course; but that's all!' She caught the younger girl, kissed her. ‘Thank you for everything. I'm all right now. Good night, my dear.'

So she sent Tess away, and for precaution's sake she locked her door, drawing back from it warily as though outside it there were a threat, a danger. In a panic haste she stripped off her garments, hurried into bed. Belowstairs she could hear the murmur of voices, and later there was music and she caught the hushed whispers of feet as they danced, and someone strolled out to the pool below her windows, and she heard laughter in the night. By and by someone knocked at her door, and she answered drowsily, and Ruth asked whether she could do anything, and Ellen murmured: ‘No thanks, darling. I was asleep. Good night!'

But she did not sleep till the house was quiet; till the guests were gone.

They were married while the sun was still low in the eastern sky, under the pergola by the pool as Ellen had wished. Robie lent them one of his cars for the first stage of their departure. ‘Leave it anywhere you like,' he said generously. ‘Just send me a
wire where to find it. I'll have someone pick it up.' Rice pelted them as they drove away, and Ellen looked back, waving as long as there was anyone to see.

Then she sighed with a great relief, and slipped her hand through Harland's arm. ‘There!' she exclaimed. ‘That wasn't so bad, was it?'

He touched her hand affectionately, but after a moment he said in a regretful tone: ‘I'm sorry there was no word from Quinton.'

‘I suppose,' she suggested, ‘he was off fishing or something, didn't get my wire.'