The Restless Sex. Chambers Robert William

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СКАЧАТЬ emotions which his narrative evoked – curiosity, awe, shy delight, frank hunger for a playmate, doubt that this wonder-boy would condescend to notice her, wistfulness, loneliness – the delicate tragedy of solitary souls.

      Always her gaze troubled him a little, because he had not yet told his son of what he had done – had not written to him concerning the advent of this little stranger. He had thought that the best and easiest way was to tell Jim when he met him at the railroad station, and, without giving the boy time to think, brood perhaps, perhaps worry, let him see little Stephanie face to face.

      It seemed the best way to John Cleland. But, at moments, lying alone, sleepless in the night, he became horribly afraid.

      It was about that time that he received a letter from Miss Rosalinda Quest:

      DEAR MR. CLELAND:

      Will you bring the child out to Bayford, or shall I call to see her when business takes me into town?

      I want to see her, so take your choice.

Yours truly,ROSALINDA QUEST.

      This brusque reminder that Stephanie was not entirely his upset Cleland. But there was nothing to do about it except to write the lady a civil invitation to call.

      Which she did one morning a week later. She wore battle-grey tweeds and toque, and a Krupp steel equipment of reticule and umbrella; and she looked the fighter from top to toe.

      When Cleland came down to the drawing-room with Stephanie. Miss Quest greeted him with perfunctory civility and looked upon Stephanie with unfeigned amazement.

      "Is that my niece?" she demanded. And Stephanie, who had been warned of the lady and of the relationship, dropped her curtsey and offered her slender hand with the shy but affable smile instinctive in all children.

      But the grey, friendly eyes and the smile did instantly a business for the child which she never could have foreseen; for Miss Quest lost her colour and stood quite dumb and rigid, with the little girl's hand grasped tightly in her grey-gloved fingers.

      Finally she found her voice – not the incisive, combative, precise voice which Cleland knew – but a feminine and uncertain parody on it:

      "Do you know who I am, Stephanie?"

      "Yes, ma'am. You are my Aunt Rosalinda."

      Miss Quest took the seat which Cleland offered and sat down, drawing the child to her knee. She looked at her for a long while without speaking.

      Later, when Stephanie had been given her congé, in view of lessons awaiting her in the nursery, Miss Quest said to Cleland, as she was going:

      "I'm not blind. I can see what you are doing for her – what you have done. The child adores you."

      "I love her exactly as though she were my own," he said, flushing.

      "That's plain enough, too… Well, I shall be just. She is yours. I don't suppose there ever will be a corner in her heart for me… I could love her, too, if I had the time."

      "Is not what you renounce in her only another sacrifice to the noble work in which you are engaged?"

      "Rubbish! I like my work. But it does do a lot of good. And it's quite true that I can not do it and give my life to Stephanie Quest. And so – " she shrugged her trim shoulders – "I can scarcely expect the child to care a straw for me, even if I come to see her now and then."

      Cleland said nothing. Miss Quest marched to the door, held open by Meacham, turned to Cleland:

      "Thank God you got her," she said. "I failed with Harry; I don't deserve her and I dare not claim responsibility. But I'll see that she inherits what I possess – "

      "Madame! I beg you will not occupy yourself with such matters. I am perfectly able to provide sufficiently – "

      "Good Lord! Are you trying to tell me again how to draw my will?" she demanded.

      "I am not. I am simply requesting you not to encumber this child with any unnecessary fortune. There is no advantage to her in any unwieldy inheritance; there is, on the contrary, a very real and alarming disadvantage."

      "I shall retain my liberty to think as I please, do as I please, and differ from you as often as I please," she retorted hotly.

      They glared upon each other for a moment; Meacham's burnt-out gaze travelled dumbly from one to the other.

      Suddenly Miss Quest smiled and stretched out her hand to Cleland.

      "Thank God," she said again, "that it is you who have the child. Teach her to think kindly of me, if you can. I'll come sometimes to see her – and to disagree with you."

      Cleland, bare-headed, took her out to her taxicab. She smiled at him when it departed.

      CHAPTER V

      There came the time when Easter vacation was to be reckoned with. Cleland wrote to Jim that he had a surprise for him and that, as usual, he would be at the station to meet the school train.

      During the intervening days, at moments fear became an anguish. He began to realize what might happen, what might threaten his hitherto perfect understanding with his only son.

      He need not have worried.

      Driving uptown in the limousine beside his son, their hands still tightly interlocked, he told him very quietly what he had done, and why. The boy, astonished, listened in silence to the end. Then all he said was:

      "For heaven's sake, Father!"

      There was not the faintest hint of resentment, no emotion at all except a perfectly neutral amazement.

      "How old is she?"

      "Eleven, Jim."

      "Oh. A kid. Does she cry much?"

      "They don't cry at eleven," explained his father, laughing in his relief. "You didn't squall when you were eleven."

      "No. But this is a girl."

      "Don't worry, old chap."

      "No. Do you suppose I'll like her?"

      "Of course, I hope you will."

      "Well, I probably sha'n't notice her very much, being rather busy… But it's funny… A kid in the house! … I hope she won't get fresh."

      "Be nice to her, Jim."

      "Sure… It's funny, though."

      "It really isn't very funny, Jim. The little thing has been dreadfully unhappy all her life until I – until we stepped in."

      "We?"

      "You and I, Jim. It's our job."

      After a silence the boy said:

      "What was the matter with her?"

      "Starvation, cruelty."

      The boy's incredulous eyes were fastened on his father's.

      "Cold, hunger, loneliness, neglect. And drunken parents who beat СКАЧАТЬ