miss billie married-第39部分

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Bertram　got　his　hat　and　coat　and　went　out　for

his　walkbut　he　told　himself　he　did　not　expect

to　enjoy　it。



Bertram　Henshaw　knew　that　the　old　rebellious

jealousy　of　the　summer　had　him　fast　in　its　grip。　

He　was　heartily　ashamed　of　himself；　but　he　could

not　help　it。　　He　wanted　Billy；　and　he　wanted　her

then。　　He　wanted　to　talk　to　her。　　He　wanted　to

tell　her　about　a　new　portrait　commission　he　had

just　obtained；　and　he　wanted　to　ask　her　what　she

thought　of　the　idea　of　a　brand…new　‘‘Face　of　a

Girl''　for　the　Bohemian　Ten　Exhibition　next

March。　　He　wantedbut　then；　what　would　be

the　use？　　She　would　listen；　of　course；　but　he

would　know　by　the　very　looks　of　her　face　that

she　would　not　be　really　thinking　of　what　he　was

saying；　and　he　would　be　willing　to　wager　his　best

canvas　that　in　the　very　first　pause　she　would　tell

about　the　baby's　newest　tooth　or　latest　toy。　　Not

but　that　he　liked　to　hear　about　the　little　fellow；

of　course；　and　not　but　that　he　was　proud　as　Punch

of　him；　too；　but　that　he　would　like　sometimes　to

hear　Billy　talk　of　something　else。　　The　sweetest

melody　in　the　world；　if　dinned　into　one's　ears　day

and　night；　became　something　to　be　fled　from。



And　Billy　ought　to　talk　of　something　else；　too！　

Bertram；　Jr。；　wonderful　as　he　was；　really　was　not

the　only　thing　in　the　world；　or　even　the　only　baby；

and　other　peopleoutsiders；　their　friends

had　a　right　to　expect　that　sometimes　other

matters　might　be　consideredtheir　own；　for

instance。　　But　Billy　seemed　to　have　forgotten　this。　

No　matter　whether　the　subject　of　conversation

had　to　do　with　the　latest　novel　or　a　trip　to　Europe；

under　Billy's　guidance　it　invariably　led　straight

to　Baby's　Jack…and…Jill　book；　or　to　a　perambulator

journey　in　the　Public　Garden。　　If　it　had　not

been　so　serious；　it　would　have　been　really　funny

the　way　all　roads　led　straight　to　one　goal。　　He

himself；　when　alone　with　Billy；　had　started　the

most　unusual　and　foreign　subjects；　sometimes；

just　to　see　if　there　were　not　somewhere　a　little

bypath　that　did　not　bring　up　in　his　own　nursery。　

He　never；　however；　found　one。



But　it　was　not　funny；　it　was　serious。　　Was　this

glorious　gift　on　parenthood　to　which　he　had　looked

forward　as　the　crowning　joy　of　his　existence；　to

be　nothing　but　a　tragedy　that　would　finally　wreck

his　domestic　happiness？　　It　could　not　be。　　It

must　not　be。　　He　must　he　patient；　and　wait。　

Billy　loved　him。　　He　was　sure　she　did。　　By　and

by　this　obsession　of　motherhood；　which　had　her

so　fast　in　its　grasp；　would　relax。　　She　would

remember　that　her　husband　had　rights　as　well　as

her　child。　　Once　again　she　would　give　him　the

companionship；　love；　and　sympathetic　interest

so　dear　to　him。　　Meanwhile　there　was　his　work。　

He　must　bury　himself　in　that。　　And　fortunate；

indeed；　he　was；　he　told　himself；　that　he　had

something　so　absorbing。



It　was　at　this　point　in　his　meditations　that

Bertram　rounded　a　corner　and　came　face　to　face

with　a　man　who　stopped　him　short　with　a

jovial：



‘‘Isn't　itby　George；　it　is　Bertie　Henshaw！　

Well；　what　do　you　think　of　that　for　luck？and

me　only　two　days　home　from　‘Gay　Paree'！''



‘‘Oh；　Seaver！　　How　are　you？　　You　_are_　a　stranger！''

Bertram's　voice　and　handshake　were　a　bit

more　cordial　than　they　would　have　been　had　he

not　at　the　moment　been　feeling　so　abused　and

forlorn。　　In　the　old　days　he　had　liked　this　Bob　Seaver

well。　　Seaver　was　an　artist　like　himself；　and　was

good　company　always。　　But　Seaver　and　his　crowd

were　a　little　too　Bohemian　for　William's　taste；

and　after　Billy　came；　she；　too；　had　objected　to

what　she　called　‘‘that　horrid　Seaver　man。''　　In

his　heart；　Bertram　knew　that　there　was　good

foundation　for　their　objections；　so　he　had　avoided

Seaver　for　a　time；　and　for　some　years；　now；　the

man　had　been　abroad；　somewhat　to　Bertram's

relief。　　To…night；　however；　Seaver's　genial　smile

and　hearty　friendliness　were　like　a　sudden　burst

of　sunshine　on　a　rainy　dayand　Bertram　detested

rainy　days。　　He　was　feeling　now；　too；　as

if　he　had　just　had　a　whole　week　of　them。



‘‘Yes；　I　am　something　of　a　stranger　here；''

nodded　Seaver。　　‘‘But　I　tell　you　what；　little　old

Boston　looks　mighty　good　to　me；　all　the　same。　

Come　on！　　You're　just　the　fellow　we　want。　　I'm

on　my　way　now　to　the　old　stamping　ground。　

Comeright　about　face；　old　chap；　and　come　with

me！''



Bertram　shook　his　head。



‘‘Sorrybut　I　guess　I　can't；　to…night；''　he

sighed。　　Both　gesture　and　words　were　unhesitating；

but　the　voice　carried　the　discontent　of　a

small　boy；　who；　while　the　sun　is　still　shining；　has

been　told　to　come　into　the　house。



‘‘Oh；　rats！　　Yes；　you　can；　too。　　Come　on！　

Lots　of　the　old　crowd　will　be　thereGriggs；

Beebe；　Jack　Jenkins；　and　Tully。　　We　need　you

to　complete　the　show。''



‘‘Jack　Jenkins？　　Is　he　here？''　　A　new　eagerness

had　come　into　Bertram's　voice。



‘‘Sure！　　He　came　on　from　New　York　last　night。　

Great　boy；　Jenkins！　　Just　back　from　Paris　fairly

covered　with　medals；　you　know。''



‘‘Yes；　so　I　hear。　　I　haven't　seen　him　for　four

years。''



‘‘Better　come　to…night　then。''



‘‘No…o；''　began　Bertram；　with　obvious

reluctance。　　‘‘It's　already　nine　o'clock；　and''



‘‘Nine　o'clock！''　cut　in　Seaver；　with　a　broad

grin。　　‘‘Since　when　has　your　limit　been　nine

o'clock？　　I've　seen　the　time　when　you　didn't　mind

nine　o'clock　in　the　morning；　Bertie！　　What's

got　　Oh；　I　remember。　　I　met　another　friend

of　yours　in　Berlin；　chap　named　Arkwright

and　say；　he's　some　singer；　you　bet！　　You're

going　to　hear　of　him　one　of　these　days。　　Well；　he

told　me　all　about　how　you'd　settled　down　now

son　and　heir；　fireside　bliss；　pretty　wife；　and　all

the　fixings。　　But；　I　say；　Bertie；　doesn't　she　let

you　out_any_？''



‘‘Nonsense；　Seaver！''　flared　Bertram　in

annoyed　wrath。



‘‘Well；　then；　why　don't　you　come　to…night？　

If　you　want　to　see　Jenkins　you'll　have　to；　he's

going　back　to　New　York　to…morrow。''



For　only　a　brief　minute　longer　did　Bertram

hesitate；　then　he　turned　squarely　about　with　an

air　of　finality。



‘‘Is　he？　　Well；　then；　perhaps　I　will；''　he　said。　

‘‘I'd　hate　to　miss　Jenkins　entirely。''



‘‘Good！''　exclaimed　his　companion；　as　they

fell　into　step。　　‘‘Have　a　cigar？''



‘‘Thanks。　　Don't　mind　if　I　do。''



If　Bertram's　chin　was　a　little　higher　and　his

step　a　little　more　decided　than　usual；　it　was　all

merely　by　way　of　accompaniment　to　his　thoughts。



Certainly　it　was　right　that　he　should　go；　and

it　was　sensible。　　Indeed；　it　was　really　almost

imperativedue　to　Billy；　as　it　wereafter　that

disagreeable　taunt　of　Seaver's。　　As　if　she　did　not

want　him　to　go　when　and　where　he　pleased！　　As

if　she　would　consent　for　a　moment　to　figure　in

the　eyes　of　his　friends　as　a　tyrannical　wife　who

objected　to　her　husband's　passing　a　social　evening

with　his　friends！　To　be　sure；　in　this　particular

case；　she　might　not　favor　Seaver's　presence；

but　even　she　would　not　mind　this　once

and；　anyhow；　it　was　Jenkins　that　was　the　attraction；

not　Seaver。　　Besides；　he　himself　was　no

undeveloped　boy　now。　　He　was　a　man；　presumedly

able　to　take　care　of　himself。　　Besides；　again；　had

not　Billy　herself　told　him　to　go　out　and　enjoy　the

evening　without　her；　as　she　had　to　stay　with　the

baby？　　He　would　telephone　her；　of　course；　that

he　had　met　some　old　friends；　and　that　he　might

be　late；　then　she　would　not　worry。



And　forthwith；　having　settled　the　matter　in

his　mind；　and　to　his　complete　satisfaction；　Bertram

gave　his　undivided　attention　to　Seaver；　who

had　already　plunged　into　an　account　of　a　recent

Art　Exhibition　he　had　attended　in　Paris。







CHAPTER　XXVI



GHOSTS　THAT　WALKED　FOR　BERTRAM





October　proved　to　be　unusually　mild；　and

about　the　middle　of　the　month；　Bertram；　after

much　unselfish　urging　on　the　part　of　Billy；　went

to　a　friend's　camp　in　the　Adirondacks　for　a　week's

stay。　　He　came　back　with　an　angry；　lugubrious

faceand　a　broken　arm。



‘‘Oh；　Bertram！　　And　your　right　one；　too

the　same　one　you　broke　before！''　mourned　Billy；

tearfully。



‘‘Of　course；''　retorted　Bertram；　trying　in　vain

to　give　an　air　of　jauntiness　to　his　reply。　　‘‘Didn't

want　to　be　too　changeable；　you　know！''



‘‘But　how　did　you　do　it；　dear？''



‘‘Fell　into　a　silly　little　hole　covered　with

underbrush。　　Butoh；　Billy；　what's　the　use？　　I

did　it；　and　I　can't　undo　itmore's　the　pity！''



‘‘Of　course　you　can't；　you　poor　boy；''

sympathized　Billy；　‘‘and　you　sha'n't　be　tormented　with

questions。　　We'll　just　be　thankful　'twas　no　worse。　

You　can't　paint　for　a　while；　of　course；　but　we

won't　mind　that。　　It'll　just　give　Baby　and　me　a

chance　to　have　you　all　to　ourselves　for　a　time；

and　we'll　love　that！'



‘‘Yes；　of　course；''　sighed　Bertram；　so　abstractedly

that　Billy　bridled　with　pretty　resentment。



‘‘Well；　I　like　your　enthusiasm；　sir；''　she　frowned。　

‘‘I'm　afraid　you　don't　appreciate　the　blessings

you　do　have；　young　man！　　Did　you　realize　what

I　said？　　I　remarked　that　you　could　be　with　_Baby_

and　_me_；''　she　emphasized。



Bertram　laughed；　and　gave　his　wife　an　affectionate

kiss。



‘‘Indeed　I　do　appreciate　my　blessings；　dear

when　those　blessings　are　such　treasures　as　you

and　Baby；　but''　　Only　his　doleful　eyes　fixed

on　his　injured　arm　finished　his　sentence。



‘‘I　know；　dear；　of　course；　and　I　understand；''

murmured　Billy；　all　tenderness　at　once。





They　were　not　easy　for　Bertramthose　following

days。　　Once　again　he　was　obliged　to　accept

the　little　intimate　personal　services　that　he

so　disliked。　　Once　again　he　could　do　nothing　but

read；　or　wander　disconsolately　into　his　studio

and　gaze　at　his　half…finished　‘‘Face　of　a　Girl。''　

Occasionally；　it　is　true；　driven　nearly　to　desperation

by　the　haunting　vision　in　his　mind's　eye；　he

picked　up　a　brush　and　attempted　to　make　his

left　hand　serve　his　will；　but　a　bare　half…dozen

irritating；　ineffectual　strokes　were　usua