CHAPTER XX

JOURNEY'S END

Harrigan dined alone. He was in disgrace; he was sore, mentally as well as

physically; and he ate his dinner without relish, in simple obedience to

those well regulated periods of hunger that assailed him three times a

day, in spring, summer, autumn and winter. By the time the waiter had

cleared away the dishes, Harrigan had a perfecto between his teeth (along

with a certain matrimonial bit), and smoked as if he had wagered to finish

the cigar in half the usual stretch. He then began to walk the floor, much

after the fashion of a man who has the toothache, or the earache, which

would be more to the point. To his direct mind no diplomacy was needed;

all that was necessary was a few blunt questions. Nora could answer them

as she chose. Nora, his baby, his little girl that used to run around

barefooted and laugh when he applied the needed birch! How children grew

up! And they never grew too old for the birch; they certainly never did.

They heard him from the drawing-room; tramp, tramp, tramp.

"Let him be, Nora," said Mrs. Harrigan, wisely. "He is in a rage about

something. And your father is not the easiest man to approach when he's

mad. If he fought Mr. Courtlandt, he believed he had some good reason for

doing so."

"Mother, there are times when I believe you are afraid of father."

"I am always afraid of him. It is only because I make believe I'm not that

I can get him to do anything. It was dreadful. And Mr. Courtlandt was such

a gentleman. I could cry. But let your father be until to-morrow."

"And have him wandering about with that black eye? Something must be done

for it. I'm not afraid of him."

"Sometimes I wish you were."

So Nora entered the lion's den fearlessly. "Is there anything I can do for

you, dad?"

"You can get the witch-hazel and bathe this lamp of mine," grimly.

She ran into her own room and returned with the simpler devices for

reducing a swollen eye. She did not notice, or pretended that she didn't,

that he locked the door and put the key in his pocket. He sat down in a

chair, under the light; and she went to work deftly.

"I've got some make-up, and to-morrow morning I'll paint it for you."

"You don't ask any questions," he said, with grimness.

"Would it relieve your eye any?" lightly.

He laughed. "No; but it might relieve my mind."

"Well, then, why did you do so foolish a thing? At your age! Don't you

know that you can't go on whipping every man you take a dislike to?"

"I haven't taken any dislike to Courtlandt. But I saw him kiss you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Perhaps. I asked him to explain. He refused. One thing puzzled me, though

I didn't know what it was at the time. Now, when a fellow steals a kiss

from a beautiful woman like you, Nora, I don't see why he should feel mad

about it. When he had all but knocked your daddy to by-by, he said that

you could explain.... Don't press so hard," warningly. "Well, can you?"

"Since you saw what he did, I do not see where explanations on my part are

necessary."

"Nora, I've never caught you in a lie. I never want to. When you were

little you were the truthfullest thing I ever saw. No matter what kind of

a licking was in store for you, you weren't afraid; you told the truth....

There, that'll do. Put some cotton over it and bind it with a

handkerchief. It'll be black all right, but the swelling will go down. I

can tell 'em a tennis-ball hit me. It was more like a cannon-ball, though.

Say, Nora, you know I've always pooh-poohed these amateurs. People used to

say that there were dozens of men in New York in my prime who could have

laid me cold. I used to laugh. Well, I guess they were right. Courtlandt's

got the stiffest kick I ever ran into. A pile-driver, and if he had landed

on my jaw, it would have been _dormi bene_, as you say when you bid me

good night in dago. That's all right now until to-morrow. I want to talk

to you. Draw up a chair. There! As I said, I've never caught you in a lie,

but I find that you've been living a lie for two years. You haven't been

square to me, nor to your mother, nor to the chaps that came around and

made love to you. You probably didn't look at it that way, but there's the

fact. I'm not Paul Pry; but accidentally I came across this," taking the

document from his pocket and handing it to her. "Read it. What's the

answer?"

Nora's hands trembled.

"Takes you a long time to read it. Is it true?"

"Yes."

"And I went up to the tennis-court with the intention of knocking his head

off; and now I'm wondering why he didn't knock off mine. Nora, he's a man;

and when you get through with this, I'm going down to the hotel and

apologize."

"You will do nothing of the sort; not with that eye."

"All right. I was always worried for fear you'd hook up with some duke

you'd have to support. Now, I want to know how this chap happens to be my

son-in-law. Make it brief, for I don't want to get tangled up more than is

necessary."

Nora crackled the certificate in her fingers and stared unseeingly at it

for some time. "I met him first in Rangoon," she began slowly, without

raising her eyes.

"When you went around the world on your own?"

"Yes. Oh, don't worry. I was always able to take care of myself."

"An Irish idea," answered Harrigan complacently.

"I loved him, father, with all my heart and soul. He was not only big and

strong and handsome, but he was kindly and tender and thoughtful. Why, I

never knew that he was rich until after I had promised to be his wife.

When I learned that he was the Edward Courtlandt who was always getting

into the newspapers, I laughed. There were stories about his escapades.

There were innuendoes regarding certain women, but I put them out of my

mind as twaddle. Ah, never had I been so happy! In Berlin we went about

like two children. It was play. He brought me to the Opera and took me

away; and we had the most charming little suppers. I never wrote you or

mother because I wished to surprise you."

"You have. Go on."

"I had never paid much attention to Flora Desimone, though I knew that she

was jealous of my success. Several times I caught her looking at Edward in

a way I did not like."

"She looked at him, huh?"

"It was the last performance of the season. We were married that

afternoon. We did not want any one to know about it. I was not to leave

the stage until the end of the following season. We were staying at the

same hotel, with rooms across the corridor. This was much against his

wishes, but I prevailed."

"I see."

"Our rooms were opposite, as I said. After the performance that night I

went to mine to complete the final packing. We were to leave at one for

the Tyrol. Father, I saw Flora Desimone come out of his room."

Harrigan shut and opened his hands.

"Do you understand? I saw her. She was laughing. I did not see him. My

wedding night! She came from his room. My heart stopped, the world

stopped, everything went black. All the stories that I had read and heard

came back. When he knocked at my door I refused to see him. I never saw

him again until that night in Paris when he forced his way into my

apartment."

"Hang it, Nora, this doesn't sound like him!"

"I saw her."

"He wrote you?"

"I returned the letters, unopened."

"That wasn't square. You might have been wrong."

"He wrote five letters. After that he went to India, to Africa and back to

India, where he seemed to find consolation enough."

Harrigan laid it to his lack of normal vision, but to his single optic

there was anything but misery in her beautiful blue eyes. True, they

sparkled with tears; but that signified nothing: he hadn't been married

these thirty-odd years without learning that a woman weeps for any of a

thousand and one reasons.

"Do you care for him still?"

"Not a day passed during these many months that I did not vow I hated

him."

"Any one else know?"

"The padre. I had to tell some one or go mad. But I didn't hate him. I

could no more put him out of my life than I could stop breathing. Ah, I

have been so miserable and unhappy!" She laid her head upon his knees and

clumsily he stroked it. His girl!

"That's the trouble with us Irish, Nora. We jump without looking, without

finding whether we're right or wrong. Well, your daddy's opinion is that

you should have read his first letter. If it didn't ring right, why, you

could have jumped the traces. I don't believe he did anything wrong at

all. It isn't in the man's blood to do anything underboard."

"But I _saw_ her," a queer look in her eyes as she glanced up at him.

"I don't care a kioodle if you did. Take it from me, it was a put-up job

by that Calabrian woman. She might have gone to his room for any number of

harmless things. But I think she was curious."

"Why didn't she come to me, if she wanted to ask questions?"

"I can see you answering 'em. She probably just wanted to know if you were

married or not. She might have been in love with him, and then she might

not. These Italians don't know half the time what they're about, anyhow.

But I don't believe it of Courtlandt. He doesn't line up that way.

Besides, he's got eyes. You're a thousand times more attractive. He's no

fool. Know what I think? As she was coming out she saw _you_ at your door;

and the devil in her got busy."

Nora rose, flung her arms around him and kissed him.

"Look out for that tin ear!"

"Oh, you great big, loyal, true-hearted man! Open that door and let me get

out to the terrace. I want to sing, sing!"

"He said he was going to Milan in the morning."

She danced to the door and was gone.

"Nora!" he called, impatiently. He listened in vain for the sound of her

return. "Well, I'll take the count when it comes to guessing what a

woman's going to do. I'll go out and square up with the old girl. Wonder

how this news will harness up with her social bug?"

Courtlandt got into his compartment at Varenna. He had tipped the guard

liberally not to open the door for any one else, unless the train was

crowded. As the shrill blast of the conductor's horn sounded the warning

of "all aboard," the door opened and a heavily veiled woman got in

hurriedly. The train began to move instantly. The guard slammed the door

and latched it. Courtlandt sighed: the futility of trusting these

Italians, of trying to buy their loyalty! The woman was without any

luggage whatever, not even the usual magazine. She was dressed in brown,

her hat was brown, her veil, her gloves, her shoes. But whether she was

young or old was beyond his deduction. He opened his _Corriere_ and held

it before his eyes; but he found reading impossible. The newspaper finally

slipped from his hands to the floor where it swayed and rustled unnoticed.

He was staring at the promontory across Lecco, the green and restful hill,

the little earthly paradise out of which he had been unjustly cast. He

couldn't understand. He had lived cleanly and decently; he had wronged no

man or woman, nor himself. And yet, through some evil twist of fate, he

had lost all there was in life worth having. The train lurched around a

shoulder of the mountain. He leaned against the window. In a moment more

the villa was gone.

What was it? He felt irresistibly drawn. Without intending to do so, he

turned and stared at the woman in brown. Her hand went to the veil and

swept it aside. Nora was as full of romance as a child. She could have

stopped him before he made the boat, but she wanted to be alone with him.

"Nora!"

She flung herself on her knees in front of him. "I am a wretch!" she

said.

He could only repeat her name.

"I am not worth my salt. Ah, why did you run away? Why did you not pursue

me, importune me until I wearied? ... perhaps gladly? There were times

when I would have opened my arms had you been the worst scoundrel in the

world instead of the dearest lover, the patientest! Ah, can you forgive

me?"

"Forgive you, Nora?" He was numb.

"I am a miserable wretch! I doubted you, I! When all I had to do was to

recall the way people misrepresented things I had done! I sent back your

letters ... and read and reread the old blue ones. Don't you remember how

you used to write them on blue paper? ... Flora told me everything. It was

only because she hated me, not that she cared anything about you. She told

me that night at the ball. I believe the duke forced her to do it. She was

at the bottom of the abduction. When you kissed me ... didn't you know

that I kissed you back? Edward, I am a miserable wretch, but I shall

follow you wherever you go, and I haven't even a vanity-box in my

hand-bag!" There were tears in her eyes. "Say that I am a wretch!"

He drew her up beside him. His arms closed around her so hungrily, so

strongly, that she gasped a little. He looked into her eyes; his glance

traveled here and there over her face, searching for the familiar dimple

at one corner of her mouth.

"Nora!" he whispered.

"Kiss me!"

And then the train came to a stand, jerkily. They fell back against the

cushions.

"Lecco!" cried the guard through the window.

They laughed like children.

"I bribed him," she said gaily. "And now...."

"Yes, and now?" eagerly, if still bewilderedly.

"Let's go back!"

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's The Place of Honeymoons, by Harold MacGrath