CHAPTER XXIV. The Afterglow

THE AFTERGLOW

Anthony vetoed absolutely the idea of a marriage before Justin's fate should be finally decided.

"But if he knows," Bettina urged with trembling lips, "if he knows that he may be--crippled--he will say that I shall not marry him. You know that he would say that, Anthony."

"And he would be right. A chronic invalid should not marry, Betty. I have great hope of his recovery. You and he must live on that hope a little longer."

Bettina begged Diana to intercede, and that lovely lady, having claimed Anthony for a twilight walk on the beach, began her plea.

But after the first words she found that she must deal not with the man who loved her, but with the great Dr. Anthony.

"I shall certainly not allow it. I am not, of course, her legal guardian, and so I cannot prevent it in that way. But I can tell Justin."

"But she will not be happy without him, Anthony. If it were you, I should marry you."

"I should not let you."

"You could not help it."

They faced each other--this strong man and this strong woman. With their wills opposed, each seemed immovable. It was evident that only a great depth of affection could bring harmony between their dominant natures.

Anthony, smiling at the earnestness of his beloved, did not yield an inch. "These things are not to be decided by sentiment, dear. There are meanings in marriage far beyond mere romance, far beyond the fate of the two individuals who make the contract. We doctors must uphold the ideal of physical perfection lest the race suffer. Moreover Bettina does not know, she cannot know, what life would mean under such conditions. She does not know her own strength, her own weakness. She must learn something of life before she takes its heaviest burdens upon her. If in the years to come she can sustain Justin by her friendship, let it be that. She must not marry him."

"You--with your friendships, Anthony! Love cannot go back to friendship."

She had seated herself on a stone bench which backed by a clump of pines, commanded a wide view of the sea. He hesitated, wondering how he might chase away the shadow which lay on her lovely face.

"Dear heart, we must not disagree about a thing which may right itself. Tell Betty that, if she will be patient for a few weeks, I shall hope to withdraw my opposition."

Her eyes did not meet his.

"Are you thinking that I am cruel, Diana?"

"No, oh, no. But your wisdom won't cure Betty's heartache."

"It may save her future heartaches."

"I wonder if a woman's point of view is ever a man's point of view, Anthony?"

"Only when two people love each other very much, dear. Then each tries to look at life through the other's eyes. We men would grow brutal without you to curb us. But, on the other hand, you need, now and then, the masculine common-sense view-point."

"I don't want the common-sense point of view in this, Anthony."

He laid his hands on her shoulders and stood looking down at her.

"Diana."

"Yes."

"What is it, dear?"

"I don't quite like--being curbed, Anthony."

She was laughing a little for, in spite of her rebellion, there was something stimulating in the thought of his masterfulness. "You see, I've always ruled," she said.

"You shall still rule, everywhere, except in one little corner of my kingdom which has to do with things medical--over that I must still reign."

"Of course if you think that you are right in this----"

"I know that I am right. Look at me, Diana."

Thrilled by his tone of command, she did look at him with eyes like stars.

Then, knowing that he had conquered, he drew her up to him and said, gently, "We doctors have to seem cruel to be kind--but you must never believe me cruel, Diana."

So July passed and August, and the little town took on all the beauty of its September coloring. The dahlias blazed from every fence corner. Against the gray rocks their masses of brilliance tempted the brushes of the artists who came to paint.

The yachts began to leave the harbor, some of them going South, some of them making their exit to the clanking chorus of the marine railway. The yacht clubs sounded their last guns, packed away their pennants and hauled up their floating docks. The hotels were closed, and most of the mansions on the Neck were deserted. The summer folk were turning toward the city, and the little seaport town was settling down to its winter routine.

It was on one of those quiet September days that Anthony said to Bettina, "Set your wedding day, my dear."

"Oh, Anthony, may I, really?"

"Yes. The specialists who came yesterday gave a final decision. Justin is going to get--well."

The invalid, propped up in a big chair, was approached thus:

"Would you mind if it were a big affair, Justin?"

"Not if you want it that way, sweetheart."

"I don't, if you don't. But Diana and the rest are planning----"

He laughed. "I want the whole world to see you, and I want all the bells to ring, and I want to run away afterward with you, and to have our honeymoon last forever."

So they were married from Diana's, at high noon, and as the bride descended the stairway, a sigh of admiration went up from the waiting guests. Her costume had been copied from an old painting, and emphasized her likeness to those medieval Venetian beauties whose blood ran in her veins. Her veil was caught back, cap-fashion, from her face, then fell to her feet. The silken thinness of her gown was weighted with silver embroideries.

Slightly to the left of the officiating clergyman was a screen of white roses. As Bettina advanced, the screen was set aside, and showed Justin, in a big chair, pale and smiling, and seeing only his bride as she came toward him.

Standing by her lover's side, Bettina gave the responses clearly. And when he placed on her finger the little silver ring, it was she who bent and kissed him.

As soon as the ceremony was over, the bridegroom was whisked away, to be followed by the bride when she had cut the wedding cake.

In the library at the head of the stairs she found him. He was on his feet, unsupported, and looking expectantly toward the door.

She gave a little cry. "Justin, you must not----!"

He laughed and held out his arms to her. "Anthony said I might. Just to show you. He didn't quite dare for the wedding. But I want you to know that you are not marrying--a broken reed--dearest."

She looked up at him. "How good it seemed," she whispered, "to see your face above mine. I--I am just as high as your heart--Justin."

* * * * *

Snow over the harbor. Snow, too, at Harbor Light.

Anthony's patients, warmly housed, were busy with Christmas work. Women who had always bought perfunctory Christmas presents, and to whom the holiday season had meant merely a weary round of shopping, bent eagerly over the bit of pottery or of weaving which was to carry a message of peace and good will. Men, whose gift-giving had lost all of its precious meanings, were carving quaint weather-vanes and toys with infinite pains, and reveling in their skill.

Diana, moving from one to the other, encouraged and suggested.

"I am so glad we worked out that mistletoe design for the pottery and the holly for the little white rugs," she said; "it makes the work so much more interesting."

"It is you who makes the work interesting," said her adoring husband who was at her elbow. "Don't you ever wish for anything else? Wouldn't you like to be down South with Justin and Betty--with purple seas and cocoanut palms and tennis and golf and good times?"

"I'd rather be here with you. Every time you come back from an important case or operation I feel as if you were a knight returning from battle--no woman can have that feeling when her husband isn't doing vital things--but I'll wait until I get home, Anthony, to tell you the rest of it--the whole of Harbor Light has its eyes on us."

It was not curiosity which drew the eyes toward them. To these weary creatures, many of whom had lost their illusions, the romance of their beloved doctor had given new hope. Their belief in the happiness of another made their own chances of happiness seem less remote.

It was late that night, however, before Diana could tell Anthony "the rest of it." He was delayed by a call to an outside case, and she sat up to wait for him.

The snow had stopped, and as she stood at the window in her room looking out, Minot's flashed above the horizon, and the big light on the Point flamed against the darkness like a sun. The little twinkling fair weather lights of the summer were gone. Only these remained through the beating storms to send out their warnings to the ships.

It was the great lights of the harbor which served humanity; it was great men like Anthony who served!

Smiling a little, in the fulness of her content, she turned back into the fire-lighted room, and went to her piano.

Anthony, coming up the stairs, spent and chilled, heard her singing:

"The stormy evening closes now in vain, Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain, While here in sheltered house With fiery-painted walls, I hear the wind abroad, I hark the calling squalls-- 'Blow, blow,' I cry, 'you burst your cheeks in vain! Blow, blow,' I cry, 'my love is home again!'"

On the threshold of this blessed sanctuary all of his weariness seemed to vanish; here he found rest and refreshment--here, at last, he had found fulfillment of all his dreams.

The End

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