"I'm not going to argue," she went on quickly, surprised at herself, deserted as she was."I only want you to think a little more deeply about all this."He drew his hand across his forehead."Think? I've thought until my brain's hot, like an overheated engine."She leaned forward.Spring was fighting her battle."I'm not worth a love like yours," she said."I'm too young, too unserious.I'm not half the woman that Alice is.""You came to me in spirit that night in Paris.I placed yuu m my heart.I've waited all these years.""Yes, but there's Alice--no, don't turn away.Let me say what's in my mind.This is a matter of life or death, you said."He nodded."Yes, life or death, together.""Alice doesn't disappoint," she went on, the words put upon her lips."I may, I shall.I already have, remember.This is your night, Gilbert, not mine, and whichever step we decide to take matters more to you than to me.Let it be the right one.Let it be the best for you."But he made a wild sweeping gesture.His patience was running out.
"Nothing is best for me if you're not in it.I tell you you've got me, whatever you are.You have your choice.Make it, make it.The night won't last for ever."Once more she listened for the breaking twig and the light step.
There was nothing but the sound of the crickets and the frogs.
Martin had forgotten.He had heard, she was sure of that, but he didn't care.Nature had its hand upon her arm, but she pushed it away.Her choice was easy, because she wouldn't forget.She would be true to Martin.
"I've made my choice," she said.
"Joan, Joan--what is it?"
"I don't love you."
He went up to her, with his old note of supplication."But I can teach you, Joan, I can teach you, my dear.""No.Never.I love Martin.I always have and always shall.""Oh, my God," he said.
"That's the truth....Please be quick.I'm very tired!" She drew herself up like a young lily.
For a moment he stood irresolute, swaying.Everything seemed to be running past him.He was spinning like a top.He had hoped against hope, during her silence and her argument.But now to be told not only that she would never love him but that she loved another man..
..
He staggered across the room to the sideboard, opened the drawer, and the thing glistened in his hand.
Joan was as cold as ice."I will be true," she whispered to herself.
"I will be true.Martin, oh, Martin."
With a superhuman effort Gilbert caught hold of himself.The cold thing in his hand helped him to this.His mouth became firm again and his face gentle and tender.And he stood up with renewed dignity and the old strange look of exaltation."I claim you then," he said.
"I claim you, Joan.Here, on this earth, we have both made mistakes.
I with Alice.You with Martin Gray.In the next life, whatever it may be, we will begin again together.I will teach you from the beginning.Death and the Great Emotion.It will be very beautiful.
Shut your eyes, my sweet, and we will take the little step together." The thing glistened in his grasp.
And Joan shut her eyes with her hands to her breast."I love you, Martin," she whispered."I love you.I will wait until you come."And Gilbert cried out, in a loud ringing voice, "Eternity, oh, God!"and raised his hand.
There was a crash, a ripping of window screen.Coatless, hatless, his shirt gaping at the neck, his deep chest heaving, Martin swept into the room like a storm, flung himself in front of Joan, staggered as the bullet hit him, cried out her name, crumpled into a heap at her feet.
And an instant later lay beneath the sweet burden of the girl whose call he had answered once again and to whom life broke like a glass ball at the sight of him and let her through into space.
V
"You may go in," said the doctor.
And Joan, whiter than a lily, rose from the corner in which she had been crouching through all the hours of the night and went to the doorway of the room to which Martin had been carried by the Nice Boy and Gilbert, the man who had been shocked back to sanity.
On a narrow bed, near a window through which a flood of sunlight poured, lay Martin from whom Death had turned away,--honest, normal, muscular, reliable Martin, the bullet no longer in his shoulder.His eyes, eager and wistful, lit up as he saw her standing there and the brown hand that was outside the covers opened with a sort of quiver.
With a rush Joan went forward, slipped down on her knees at the side of the bed, broke into a passion of weeping and pressed her lips to that outstretched hand.
Making no bones about it, being very young and very badly hurt, Martin cried too, and their tears washed the bridge away and the barriers and misunderstandings and criss-crosses that had sprung up between them during all those adolescent months.
"Martin, Martin, it was all my fault."
"No, it wasn't, Joany.It was mine.I wasn't merely your pal, ever.
I loved and adored you from the very second that I found you out on the hill.You thought it was a game, but it wasn't.It was the real thing, and I was afraid to say so."She crept a little nearer and put her head on his chest."I was all wrong, Marty, from the start.I was a fool and a cheat, and you and Gilbert and Alice have paid my bill.I've sent Gilbert back to Alice, and they'll forget, but it will take me all my life to earn my way back to you." She flung her arm across his body, and her tears fell on his face.
"Oh, God," he cried out, "don't you understand that I love you, Joany? Send all your bills to me.They're mine, because I'm yours, my baby, just all yours.You were so young and you had to work it off.I knew all that and waited.Didn't you know me well enough to be dead sure that I would wait?"The burden on her shoulders fell with a crash, and with a great cry of pent-up gratitude and joy her lips went down to his lips.
But the doctor was not so old that he had forgotten love and youth, and he left those two young clinging things alone again and went back into the sun.
End