THE CHRISTMAS BRIDE (30 page)

“Maybe you could!” said the old lady. “Margaret would help, too! That would be wonderful! But you ought to sit right down and thank him.”

“That’s just what I was going to do.”

So the old man sat down to write his letter, and the old lady went about her housework with a song on her lips. It was an old tune of her childhood she sang, but the words her heart fitted to it were these:

T
he two young people driving down the mountain had another glorious day together. To Margaret it was like draining the last luscious drop of a marvelous vacation. She had advised herself in the watches of the night that she simply must not presume upon a thing that happened while she was in Vermont. There had been quiet intimate talks, glances of sweet intimacy, a touch of hands now and then that had thrilled her, little dropped phrases that seemed to mean so much to her eager thoughts and yet might just have been casual friendship. They were friends, that was all, she told herself severely. When she got back to the office, she must not act as if any of them had happened. Particularly that last night when he had called her Margaret! How that had gone to her heart to hear him speak it, and how cross she had been to herself afterward that she had let it matter so much. Why should he not call her Margaret? Likely he didn’t even realize he had done it. He was hearing her called that all day, and he likely just misspoke himself.

He had called her that one other time, too! That day he found her in Rodman Street! He had called out, “Margaret!” but he had not acted afterward as if he knew he had done it. He was just under the excitement then of finding her. Well, likely he had only called her so last night playfully. Still, it brought the bright color to her cheeks to remember it. So she had resolved to take the beauty of this one day and not let it cloud the more formal days that she knew must come afterward in the office when they should return to the world of real work.

So they rode down the mountain happily and continued their friendship throughout a happy day, eyes meeting in sweet understanding of mutual likes and dislikes, happy awareness of each other.

Once when they came to a long stretch of smooth quiet road where there was little likelihood of meeting anyone, to her great delight Greg put her at the wheel and began to teach her to drive. His hands over hers now and then, his strong guiding presence, his foot touching hers occasionally. Once when he leaned over to show her just how to step on the clutch, his hair brushed her cheek. But he did not seem aware of it. She drew long deep breaths and refused to think of it. He had to put his hand over hers to show her how to turn the wheel. So she took it all calmly and just enjoyed the day to the last minute.

A few slow, lazy snowflakes were zigzagging down as they neared the city, with a promise of more to come, and the street had a slushy dismal look. Margaret glanced out and suddenly realized that her beautiful interval was over. Tomorrow and the rest of the days she must go back to considering herself an employee in a reserved and dignified atmosphere.

“A man is coming for me tomorrow,” said Greg in a sudden businesslike tone as they drew up at Mrs. Harris’s house. “He wants to take me out to a place ten or fifteen miles from the city and introduce me to a little group of ministers and Christian workers. I probably shall not be back till late Sunday night. I’m supposed to go to one church in the morning and another in the evening. So I shan’t be seeing you till sometime Monday. If anybody comes in Monday morning, you’ll know what to say to them. If I were going to be at home, I’d ask you to go to church somewhere with me.”

He helped her out and carried her suitcase in for her. Mrs. Harris and the niece who was still with her came out to meet them, and there was no chance for a parting word. Just a “good night” and a smile before everybody, and Margaret felt suddenly the let-down after the wonderful day of companionship. Well, it was just as well perhaps. No lingering delusions to take her mind off her work.

With a somewhat dreary feeling, she ate the nice supper that Mrs. Harris had prepared for her, told cheerful pleasant anecdotes of her visit at home, gave Mrs. Harris the messages her grandmother had sent, and then went up to her room and put away her things.

Outside the night had settled into thin, sharp crystals of snow, halfheartedly coming down and coating the ground with white. She thought of the mountain and dear old people alone in a storm and wept a few tears. She thought of the dearness of the last few days and turned her mind away from it.

Finally, she sat down and wrote as cheery a letter to the home folks as she could write—a brief one—then went out to the postbox on the corner and mailed it so they would know as soon as possible that she was safely back. She then shook the snow out of her hair and went to bed. But she did not go to sleep. She lay there for several hours and tried to think of the mortgage and work some way out to pay it. She prayed about it at intervals and resolutely turned her mind away from memories that would keep haunting her.

She wrote another long letter to her grandparents on Sunday, went to a strange, little church where the worship was most formal and didn’t seem to help her, came home and read some of Greg’s little books, and was glad when the day was over and she might go to sleep again.

Monday morning she went to work. There was a great stack of mail orders to fill, letters from ministers asking about literature, letters from people asking eager, puzzled questions about the literature they had received, and one personal letter for Sterling. Strange he hadn’t thought to look the mail over Saturday night. But he hadn’t likely expected anything that required immediate attention. It was postmarked Virginia and written in a strong hand. That must be from his friend Steele about whom he had talked so much.

Greg didn’t come in until after eleven. He had met some men at the hotel who had been interested in his work, and he had been talking with them. He came with a brisk, businesslike way, and though there was a pleasant light in his eyes when he greeted Margaret, there was nothing more to remind her of the friendship they had shared those delightful few days. It was just as she had told herself it would be, and she was glad she had herself well in hand. He would see that she had no intention of presuming upon his kindness of the past week.

She handed him the mail with the Virginia letter on the top, and he tore it open eagerly. She watched his face for a second as he read. How it lighted up! How much he thought of his friend!

Then suddenly he swung around to her.

“My friend Rhoderick Steele is going to be married tonight. He wants me for best man, and the only way I can possibly make it now is by airplane. That’s my fault. I should have got his mail Saturday night. Well, it can’t be helped. Will you call up the airport and find out what time a plane goes? I’ll sign those letters while you do it and make out a check for you in case there should be need for you to pay for literature that may come.”

He had scarcely finished the letters before she brought him the memoranda. He glanced at it and then at his watch.

“I can make it,” he said, “if you will telephone him I am coming. I’ll have to run over to the hotel and get some evening clothes. They may not be needed, of course, if it’s a quiet affair, but a best man would have to be ready, I suppose. If you get him at once, phone me at the hotel, but if you have to wait, I’ll be gone, and you can just leave a message for him that I’m on my way.”

He handed her the signed check and started for the door then suddenly turned back and came to her again.

“Good-bye!” he said and half put out his hand. But before her hand could go out surprisedly to meet his, he suddenly stepped close and put his arm around her, drawing her close for an instant, and kissing her softly, tenderly on her lips.

“Good-bye…Margaret!” he said again and was gone before she could recover from her amazement.

Margaret stood there in the office trembling from head to foot with joy and awe. The thrill of his kiss was still on her lips. The joy of his arms around her enveloped her like a garment, and the blood went pounding through her veins.

Presently her senses began to assume some degree of their normal poise and she was able to think connectedly. She had been so careful and dignified, and
this
had happened! Without any warning, he had kissed her! And she couldn’t by any sort of juggling make herself feel that it was just a casual brotherly kiss. There had been devotion and tenderness in it. It was precious to remember. And yet she had no right to presume upon it. Perhaps he didn’t feel the way she did that people mustn’t go around kissing promiscuously. He hadn’t seemed like the kind of a young man who would kiss a girl just from friendliness because he happened to be going away, but perhaps that was it. She simply mustn’t count it anything else. Her grandmother’s words were still ringing in her ears, and she must guard herself from allowing any playing with holy things. A kiss was not a thing to be given lightly. If he ever came back from his ride in the air, she would have to make him understand that—that is, if he ever attempted such a thing again—unless—Well she mustn’t consider any “unless.” She must keep her principles and make them clear. Yet she knew in her heart that if he never came back, if some dire disaster should happen to him on the way, she would treasure that kiss through the rest of her life and count it the most precious thing that earth held for her. Well, life was full of a strange lot of complications, and she suddenly roused to the act that she had an immediate duty. So she rushed to the telephone, her cheeks rosy now, her heart crying out to her, fairly screaming to her, that she loved Greg and she never could undo it. She loved him with all her soul and was glad—glad that he had kissed her good-bye.

And yet when a few minutes later, having held a brief conversation with Rhoderick Steele, she called Greg’s hotel, her voice was cool and impersonal and she was prepared to let one Gregory Sterling know that she had ignored that kiss. That she wasn’t even considering it as a fact in her history.

But unfortunately for her resolve, she was told by the hotel clerk that Mr. Sterling had just left for Virginia. She was too late after all, and she was glad of that, too. Nothing he or she could say could change that kiss or spoil its beauty for a few days at least. Probably not until he came back. And for that brief time it was hers to think about, at least when she couldn’t possibly help doing so.

Greg came back Wednesday morning, briskly, joyously. He looked her fairly in the eyes with a radiant smile. He spoke eagerly on business matters at once.

“I’m going to need you this afternoon,” he said. “Can you arrange to go with me right after lunch, about one o’clock, say?”

Margaret had schooled herself to be calm when he came, but her voice was a bit tremulous as she answered. She decided in a flash that he had forgotten that kiss, and she would forget it, too. It was likely just an impulse he had, and she wasn’t going to leave him standing. He might think she had an evil mind if she did.

“I could go,” she answered quietly, “but there were some people telephoned this morning. They are coming in to look the books over. And there are still some of those envelopes not addressed yet.”

“That’s all right,” said Greg confidently. “How about that niece of Mrs. Harris? Isn’t she here yet? Mrs. Harris was worried that she hadn’t any job. We’ll just commandeer her and let her try her hand addressing envelopes and meeting the people. And if she’s got any brains at all, she ought to be able to tell people about the books. Of course it’s better to have a Christian person do it, and maybe she is, but we can’t tell till we find out. Suppose you call her in, and I’ll give her a little information about the literature. We may need her help from now on if I carry out some of my plans, so we’d better see how capable she is.”

In amazement and some trepidation, Margaret called Jane Garrett and then went back to her desk. She sat there trying to finish what she had been doing when he came in, but her thoughts went wild and her hand trembled. It wasn’t going to be so easy to ignore what had happened if she had to go out with him alone.

But she need not have been afraid. Greg was not going to trouble her with any attentions. He was all intent on his business.

“We’re going shopping,” he told her gleefully as she came out to the car wearing her very best secretarial manner. “I need quite a good many things at once.”

But he turned the car quite away from the shopping district and rushed out into the country as fast as he could go.

“Oh, I thought you said you were going shopping,” said Margaret at last in a small voice when the silence had lasted quite awhile. Greg had seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

“I am,” he said pleasantly, “but I didn’t say where. You see, the first thing on my list is a house. I’m going to throw a party, you know, and I have to have a house to have it in.”

“Oh,” said Margaret quite startled. “Are you really serious about that party? But you aren’t going to have to find a house just to have a party in, surely! Why, I presume Mrs. Harris might take in my people for a few days. They could have my room, and I would sleep with Jane Garrett. Then you could take your friend to the hotel if he came.”

“My
friends
!” said Greg emphatically. “He’s married now, you know, and they are both coming. Then I thought we’d ask Mrs. Harris and Jane, and Miss Gowen the nurse, and perhaps a few people who haven’t any nice times and need them. We’ll want a few children for Christmas Day at least. I guess we can scare some up somewhere. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without a few children. How could one do that in a hotel? Mrs. Harris’s house is all right, but that’s my place of business. I couldn’t see having a house party there. No, I’ve got to have a house. I may need it later myself anyway.”

“Oh!” said Margaret in a meek voice.