Echoes of the War by Sir James Matthew Barrie (hardest books to read txt) 📖

'if she could be--rather brighter, Grace.'

'Robert!'

'I think Dick would like it.'

Her fine eyes reproach him mutely, but she says, ever forgiving, 'Is that how you look at it, Robert? Very well, laugh your fill--if you can. But if Dick were to appear before me to-night----'

In his distress Mr. Don cries aloud to the figure by the fire, 'Dick, if you can appear to your mother, do it.'

There is a pause in which anything may happen, but nothing happens. Yes, something happened: Dick has stuck to his father.

'Really, Robert!' Mrs. Don says, and, without a word of reproach, she goes away. Evidently Dick comes to his father, who has sank into a chair, and puts a loving hand on him. Mr. Don clasps it without looking up.

'Father, that was top-hole of you! Poor mother, I should have liked to hug her; but I can't.'

'You should have gone to her, Dick; you shouldn't have minded me.'

The wiser boy says, 'Mother's a darling, but she doesn't need me as much as you do.'

'I don't know.'

'That's all right. I'm glad she's so keen about that game, though.'

He has returned to the ingle-nook when Laura comes in, eager to make amends to Dick's father if she hurt him when she went out.

Softly, 'I have come to say good-night, Mr. Don.'

'It's nice of you, Laura,' taking both her hands.

Dick speaks. 'I want her to come nearer to the fire; I can't see her very well there.'

For a moment Mr. Don is caught out again; but Laura has heard nothing. He becomes quite cunning in Dick's interests.

'Your hands are cold, Laura; go over to the fire. I want to look at you.'

She sits on the hearthstone by Dick's feet.

Shyly, 'Am I all right?'

It is Dick who answers. 'You're awfully pretty, Laura. You are even prettier than I thought. I remember I used to think, she can't be quite as pretty as I think her; and then when you came you were just a little prettier.'

She has been warming her hands. 'Why don't you say anything?' she asks Mr. Don.

'I was thinking of you and Dick, Laura.'

'What a pretty soul she has, father,' says the boy; 'I can see right down into it now.'

'If Dick had lived, Laura, do you think that you and he--?'

With shining eyes, 'I think--if he had wanted it very much.'

'I expect he would, my dear.'

There is an odd candour about Dick's contribution. 'I think so, too, but I never was quite sure.' They are a very young pair.

Laura is trembling a little. 'Mr. Don--'

'Yes, Laura?'

'I think there is something wicked about me. I sometimes feel quite light-hearted--though Dick has gone.'

'Perhaps, nowadays, the fruit trees have that sort of shame when they blossom, Laura; but they can't help doing it. I hope you are yet to be a happy woman, a happy wife.'

'It seems so heartless to Dick.'

'Not a bit; it's what I should like,' Dick says.

'It's what he would like, Laura.'

'Do you remember, Laura,' Dick goes on, 'I kissed you once. It was under a lilac in the Loudon Woods. I knew at the time that you were angry, and I should have apologised. I'm sorry, Laura.'

His sweetheart has risen, tasting something bitter-sweet. 'What is it, Laura?' Mr. Don asks.

'Somehow--I don't know how--but, for a moment I seemed to feel the smell of lilac. Dick was once--nice to me under a lilac. Oh, Mr. Don--' She goes to him like a child, and he soothes and pets her.

'There, there! That will be all right, quite all right.' He takes her to the door. 'Good-night, my dear.'

'Good-night, Mr. Don.'

'Good-bye, Laura,' says the third voice.

Mr. Don is looking so glum that the moment they are alone Dick has to cry warningly, 'Face!' He is probably looking glum himself, for he says candidly, 'Pretty awful things, these partings. Father, don't feel hurt though I dodge the good-bye business when I leave you.'

'That's so like you, Dick!'

'I'll have to go soon.'

'Oh, Dick! Can't you--'

'There's something I want not to miss, you see.'

'I'm glad of that.'

'I'm not going yet; but I mean that when I do I'll just slip away.'

'What I am afraid of is that you won't come back.'

'I will--honest Injun--if you keep bright.'

'But, if I do that, Dick, you might think I wasn't missing you so much.'

'We know better than that. You see, if you're bright, I'll get a good mark for it.'

'I'll be bright.'

Dick pops him into the settle again.

'Remember your pipe.'

'Yes, Dick.'

'Do you still go to that swimming-bath, and do your dumb-bell exercises?'

'No, I--'

'You must.'

'All right, Dick, I will.'

'And I want you to be smarter next time. Your hair's awful.'

'I'll get it cut, Dick.'

'Are you hard at work over your picture of those three Graces?'

'No. I put that away. I'm just doing little things nowadays. I can't--'

'Look here, sonny, you've got to go on with it. You don't seem to know how interested I am in your future.'

'Very well, Dick; I'll bring it out again.'

Mr. Don hesitates.

'Dick, there is something I have wanted to ask you all the time.'

Some fear seems to come into the boy's voice. 'Don't ask it, father.'

'I shall go on worrying about it if I don't--but just as you like, Dick.'

'Go ahead, father; ask me.'

'It is this. Would you rather be--here--than there?'

After a pause the boy says, 'Not always.'

'What is the great difference, Dick?'

'Well, down here one knows he has risks to run.'

'And you miss that?'

'It must be rather jolly.'

'Did you know that was what I was to ask?'

'Yes. But, remember, I'm young at it.'

'And your gaiety, Dick; is it all real, or only put on to help me?'

'It's--it's half and half, father.'

'Face!' he cries, next moment. Then cajolingly, 'Father, K.C.M.G.!'

'When will you come again, Dick?'

'There's no saying. One can't always get through. They keep changing the password.' His voice grows troubled. 'It's awfully difficult to get the password.'

'What was it to-night?'

'Love Bade Me Welcome.'

Mr. Don rises; he stares at his son.

'How did you get it, Dick?'

'I'm not sure.' Dick seems to go closer to his father, as if for protection. 'There are lots of things I don't understand yet.'

'There are things I don't understand either. Dick, did you ever try to send messages--from there---to us?'

'Me? No.'

'Or get messages from us?'

'No. How could we?'

'Is there anything in it?'

Mr. Don is not speaking to his son. He goes to the little table and looks long at it. Has it taken on a sinister aspect? Those chairs, are they guarding a secret?

'Dick, this table--your mother--how could they----'

He turns, to find that Dick has gone.

'Dick! My boy! Dick!'

The well-remembered voice leaves a message behind it.

'Be bright, father.'

Mr. Don sits down by the fire to think it all out.
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Publication Date: 08-05-2010

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