the red cross girl(红十字姑娘)-第35章
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winter she would try to be like the fine person he believed her to be； but
which； she assured him； she was not。
Then he told her again she was the most wonderful being in the world；
to which she said： 〃Oh； indeed no！〃 and then； as though he were giving her
a cue； he said： 〃Good…by！〃 But she did not take up his cue； and they shook
hands。 He waited； hardly daring to breathe。
〃Surely； now that the parting has come；〃 he assured himself； 〃she will
make some sign； she will give me a word； a look that will write 'total'
under the hours we have spent together； that will help to carry me through
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the long winter。〃
But he held her hand so long and looked at her so hungrily that he
really forced her to say： 〃Don't miss your train；〃 which kind consideration
for his comfort did not delight him as it should。 Nor； indeed； later did she
herself recall the remark with satisfaction。
With Latimer out of the way the other two hundred and forty…nine
suitor attacked with renewed hope。 Among other advantages they had over
Latimer was that they were on the ground。 They saw Helen daily； at
dinners； dances； at the country clubs； in her own drawing…room。 Like any
sailor from the Charlestown Navy Yard and his sweetheart； they could
walk beside her in the park and throw peanuts to the pigeons； and scratch
dates and initials on the green benches； they could walk with her up one
side of Commonwealth Avenue and down the south bank of the Charles；
when the sun was gilding the dome of the State House； when the bridges
were beginning to deck themselves with necklaces of lights。 They had
known her since they wore knickerbockers； and they shared many interests
and friends in common； they talked the same language。 Latimer could talk
to her only in letters； for with her he shared no friends or interests； and he
was forced to choose between telling her of his lawsuits and his efforts in
politics or of his love。 To write to her of his affairs seemed wasteful and
impertinent； and of his love for her； after she had received what he told of
it in silence； he was too proud to speak。 So he wrote but seldom； and then
only to say： 〃You know what I send you。〃 Had he known it； his best letters
were those he did not send。 When in the morning mail Helen found his
familiar handwriting； that seemed to stand out like the face of a friend in a
crowd； she would pounce upon the letter； read it； and； assured of his love；
would go on her way rejoicing。 But when in the morning there was no
letter； she wondered why； and all day she wondered why。 And the next
morning when again she was disappointed； her thoughts of Latimer and
her doubts and speculations concerning him shut out every other interest。
He became a perplexing； insistent problem。 He was never out of her mind。
And then he would spoil it all by writing her that he loved her and that of
all the women in the world she was the only one。 And； reassured upon that
point； Helen happily and promptly would forget all about him。
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But when she remembered him； although months had passed since she
had seen him； she remembered him much more distinctly； much more
gratefully； than that one of the two hundred and fifty with whom she had
walked that same afternoon。 Latimer could not know it； but of that anxious
multitude he was first； and there was no second。 At least Helen hoped；
when she was ready to marry； she would love Latimer enough to want to
marry him。 But as yet she assured herself she did not want to marry any
one。 As she was； life was very satisfactory。 Everybody loved her；
everybody invited her to be of his party； or invited himself to join hers；
and the object of each seemed to be to see that she enjoyed every hour of
every day。 Her nature was such that to make her happy was not difficult。
Some of her devotees could do it by giving her a dance and letting her
invite half of Boston； and her kid brother could do it by taking her to
Cambridge to watch the team at practice。
She thought she was happy because she was free。 As a matter of fact；
she was happy because she loved some one and that particular some one
loved her。 Her being 〃free〃 was only her mistaken way of putting it。 Had
she thought she had lost Latimer and his love； she would have discovered
that； so far from being free； she was bound hand and foot and heart and
soul。
But she did not know that； and Latimer did not know that。
Meanwhile； from the branch of the tree in the sheltered； secret hiding…
place that overlooked the ocean； the sailorman kept watch。 The sun had
blistered him； the storms had buffeted him； the snow had frozen upon his
shoulders。 But his loyalty never relaxed。 He spun to the north； he spun to
the south； and so rapidly did he scan the surrounding landscape that no one
could hope to creep upon him unawares。 Nor； indeed； did any one attempt
to do so。 Once a fox stole into the secret hiding…place； but the sailorman
flapped his oars and frightened him away。 He was always triumphant。 To
birds； to squirrels； to trespassing rabbits he was a thing of terror。 Once；
when the air was still； an impertinent crow perched on the very limb on
which he stood； and with scornful； disapproving eyes surveyed his white
trousers； his blue reefer； his red cheeks。 But when the wind suddenly drove
past them the sailorman sprang into action and the crow screamed in alarm
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and darted away。 So； alone and with no one to come to his relief； the
sailorman stood his watch。 About him the branches bent with the snow； the
icicles froze him into immobility； and in the tree…tops strange groanings
filled him with alarms。 But undaunted； month after month； alert and
smiling； he waited the return of the beautiful lady and of the tall young
man who had devoured her with such beseeching； unhappy eyes。
Latimer found that to love a woman like Helen Page as he loved her
was the best thing that could come into his life。 But to sit down and lament
over the fact that she did not love him did not； to use his favorite
expression； 〃tend toward efficiency。〃 He removed from his sight the three
pictures of her he had cut from illustrated papers； and ceased to write to
her。
In his last letter he said： 〃I have told you how it is； and that is how it is
always going to be。 There never has been； there never can be any one but
you。 But my love is too precious； too sacred to be brought out every week
in a letter and dangled before your eyes like an advertisement of a motor…
car。 It is too wonderful a thing to be cheapened； to be subjected to slights
and silence。 If ever you should want it； it is yours。 It is here waiting。 But
you must tell me so。 I have done everything a man can do to make you
understand。 But you do not want me or my love。 And my love says to me：
'Don't send me there again to have the door shut in my face。 Keep me with
you to be your inspiration； to help you to live worthily。' And so it shall be。〃
When Helen read that letter she did not know what to do。 She did no
