Chapter 12

"MY DEAR MR. JOCELYN: Your letter in regard to the dramatization of my book, 'Francesca,' seems to demand immediate assurance that you will have free rein in the work you are to do. Mr. Frohman has told me something of you and of your work, and I shall be very happy if my story gives you your first opportunity to succeed as a playwright.

"I am glad you are pleased with my story. Did you know that it was my first one? Your comment on the character of the musician interested me, as it is a close portrait of a friend.

"Trusting that we may work together to a successful end, I am

"Sincerely,

"THE AUTHOR.

"P.S. For private reasons I prefer to remain unknown to you. You can always reach me through Mr. Frohman's office. You must forgive typed letters."

This she sent to the Frohman office, with a request that it be forwarded. The next day brought Jarvis's news:

"DEAR BAMBI: For three days I have resisted the constant temptation to send you word of what seemed to be extraordinarily good news, but many disappointments have made me a doubting Thomas, so I held off until I was really sure. To begin at the beginning, I was at the lowest ebb of disgust with myself last week for my inability to get in step with the grand march. Only a fool can be excused for failure, and I am not that. So a summons from the Frohman office somewhat restored my self-respect. It seems that Mr. Frohman has never forgotten my previous interview, so when he decided to make a play of a popular novel entitled 'Francesca,' he immediately thought of me.

"Of course this is not the kind of play I want to do, so I said I would look over the book and if I liked it I would have a try at it. The long and the short of it is I have accepted. The woman who wrote the thing has promised to keep out of it. She seems to be a nice kind of person, but for some reason wants to make a mystery of herself. Frohman hints at a domestic tragedy as her reason. I'm sure I do not care about her private affairs.

"She has written a clever and delightful book. The heroine, oddly enough called Francesca, suggests you in places, except that she is a more practical sort than you are. The hero, a musician, is a sort of sublimated madman. The best character of all is an old fiddler. There is a play in it. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced of that.

"Would you care to help me on it? Both of our names could go on the bill. I have come to know, these last months, since I have been working at things here alone, how much the growth in my work is due to you. The human touch you have given my characters, or helped me to give them, is the essential element in my improvement. You started a good many wires to jangling that spring day when you indulged your mad impulse to marry an impossibility!

"Regards to the Professor.

"Yours,

"JARVIS."

Bambi went to the telegraph office and wired him:

"Congratulations. Of course I'll help! Come home.

"BAMBI."

He answered, by letter, that he thought it best to stay on until Mr. Frohman and the author were both satisfied with the framework of the play. Then he would come, most gladly, to work in the old study. He would submit his ideas for a scenario the next day or so.

From that moment the fun began for Bambi. He wrote daily about the outline, and weekly letters to the author were forwarded to her from the Frohman office. These she answered, disguised as the author, with many a chuckle of amusement. A sort of friendliness crept into these letters as they increased in number.

Christmas week arrived with no definite assurance from Jarvis as to his plans, but Bambi was confident that he would be at home for the holiday. Professor Parkhurst demanded daily bulletins of his son-in-law's intentions, while Ardelia bemoaned and bewailed lest he fail to return.

The day before Kris Kringle was due a white snow descended like a benediction. Bambi and the Professor sat before a huge, crackling fire in the library. She was restless as a spirit. She sat at the piano and sang "O Lonely Pine Tree Standing," until the Professor objected.

"Sing something gay, my child."

"God rest ye, merry gentleman, Let nothing ye dismay, For Jesus Christ, the Saviour, Was born on Christmas Day,"

she sang gladly.

All at once her hands fell silent on the keys, while she stared at the doorway a full second before she rose. Jarvis stood there looking at her. He was powdered with snowflakes. He held his soft hat crushed against him, showing his hair, glistening with snow, and curled close to his head with dampness. It was his face that focussed her attention. The old proud carriage of the head was there, but an asking look had come into his eyes and mouth in place of the old arrogance. In the second she hesitated she saw all this--caught the glow and the beauty of him, as well as the appeal.

"Jarvis!" she cried, and met him halfway across the room, both hands out.

"Bambi!" he answered her huskily, and she knew that he was moved at the sight of her. He crushed her hands in his, and drank her in, from her shining eyes to her boots, oblivious to the startled Professor, who stood looking on.

"Welcome home!" said Bambi, unsteadily.

"Did you come through the roof?" inquired Professor Parkhurst.

"I had a passkey. How are you?" Jarvis laughed, mangling the Professor's hand. The latter rescued and inspected his limp fingers.

"I am well, but I shall never use that hand again."

"You have come home," said Bambi, foolishly.

"I have. My, but it's good to be here! I got Frohman's approval on the framework of the play to-day, and ran for the first train."

"Does the author approve, too?"

"She does. She is more or less a figurehead, but she seems reasonable."

"Oh, Jarvis, you're a nice Christmas present. Go put these wet things in the hall, call on Ardelia, and come back. It will take at least a week to say all the things I want to say to you."

He smiled at her, and marched off to do her bidding.

"He looks fine, doesn't he? I never realized before how handsome he is," said the Professor.

"He's thrilling!" replied Bambi.

Her father inspected her thoughtfully.

"What a talent you have for hitting people off! That is just it: he thrills you with a feeling of youth and power."

"Plus some new and softer quality," added Bambi, as if to herself.

The powwow in the kitchen could be heard all over the house, Ardelia welcoming home the Prodigal Son. It was only after long argument he escaped the fatted calf. She could not conceive of him except as hungry after many months in the heathen city.

When he came back into the library he swept with his eyes its caressing harmony of colour, tone, and atmosphere. He had never noticed it before. The Professor's beautiful profile, like a fine steel engraving, thrown into high relief by the lamplight, seemed a part of it. The vibrant little figure on the hearth rug, in a flame-coloured gown, was the high note that gave it all climax. His mind swept the gamut of dirty hall bedrooms, back to this, and the sigh with which he sank into the big couch caught Bambi's amused attention.

"It was satisfaction," he assured her. "For the first time in my life, I've got the home feeling."

She nodded understandingly. Her mind, too, swept up those dirty stairs, peeped into the cell, and flew back, singing.

The Professor moved over beside Jarvis, and the wander tales began. Bambi fluttered about like a scarlet tanager, tantalizing Jarvis with a desire to catch her in his hand and hold her still.

At eleven the Professor said good night. Immediately Bambi led the talk to their proposed work, and held it there, firmly, until midnight chimed. Jarvis told her of the sale of the "Street Songs" to Strong's magazine, and announced that one hundred dollars of it was to be set down in the Black Maria account. She laughed and congratulated him.

Finally she rose.

"Your rooms are always ready for you, so I do not need to go up and see about them. A Merry Christmas, Jarvis Jocelyn."

He laid his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. He thought he felt her tremble under his touch, but her glance was as frank and emotionless as a boy's.

"A Merry Christmas to you, Miss Mite," he answered, with a sigh. She laughed, unexpectedly patted his cheek with her hand, and ran upstairs.

XXII

Christmas day in the little house was a real celebration. It was the first one in the Jocelyns' married life, and the entire household entered into the spirit of Yuletide with enthusiasm. At Bambi's suggestion, they hid the presents all over the house. The subsequent search and discovery were carried on with much laughter and shouting. Ardelia's delight over her gifts was vocal and extreme. The Professor continually forgot which presents were his, and collected every one else's into his pile, from which the owner laughingly rescued them. A pair of silk stockings for Bambi which he absent-mindedly appropriated caused much mirth.

Jarvis's gift to Bambi was a dull gold chain, hung with tassels of baroque pearls, an exquisite feminine bauble.

"Oh, Jarvis, how charming! It's like a lovely lady's happy tears!" she exclaimed.

He blushed happily.

"I thought it looked like you."

"A thousand thanks! Fasten the clasp for me."

He fumbled it awkwardly, but with final success. She turned for inspection, her eyes avid for praise. He nodded.

"It is where it belongs," he said.

The day passed happily. Ardelia's dinner was a Christmas poem. When the Professor complimented her on the success of everything, she replied:

"Yassuh, dis heah day been all right. But I hopes befo' nex' Chris'mus we all gwine to have some chilluns to make dis a sho' nuff pahty."

Bambi's face was scarlet, but she faced it out.

"Oh, not children, Ardelia--singular, you mean, I hope."

"No, I don't mean sing'lar. We don' want no singular chilluns. I mean jes' plain chilluns."

"The holiday seems to be peculiarly the children's day," said the Professor, unaware of the situation, and so saved it!

Thus it was that Jarvis was welcomed into the family circle again, and this time he became an integral part as he had never been before. The day after Christmas he came to Bambi with her story.

"You told me you had read this book, didn't you?"

"Yes, I've read it."

"What do you think of it?" he asked her, curiously.

"I adore it!" she replied.

He sat down beside her, gravely.

"It's a strange thing, but the book grows on you. When I first read it, I thought it was a clever little trifle. But as I work with it, I have come to see that it is remarkable in its human quality. You feel the charm of the author all through it."

"Do you?" eagerly.

"Didn't you?"

"I don't know. I loved the girl. She seemed very true to me."

"I've never known any girls except you, and I don't know you very well, but there are spots where you and the other Francesca are strikingly alike. I suppose it is not you, but _feminine_. I mix them up."

"If we are to make a play of it, I am glad we both love it."

"I find myself intensely interested in the mysterious woman who wrote it. To me there is no hint in the story of the infelicity Mr. Frohman hinted at. I would like to know her."

"Don't you expect to see her when the play is finished?"

"She says she wishes me not to know her."

"But she will have to come to rehearsals?"

"I must ask her about that. Maybe she will come, then."

"You write to her?"

"Oh, yes. I have to keep her in touch with my progress."

"I thought you told her to keep out."

"I did. But she has been so agreeable about it that I decided to keep her posted as I went along."

Bambi rose.

"I've no doubt she is very fascinating," she said, coldly.

"You don't object to my interest in her?"

"Object? My dear Jarvis, you may be interested in all the women in creation without any objection from me!"

"And you have the same freedom?"

"Naturally. Now let's get to work. I was surprised at what you said about the young musician in the book. I thought he was so real."

"Strange. That is what the author said, that it was a close portrait of a near friend."

"What is it, about him, that you do not like?"

"Oh, I like him, in a way. But these reformers, idealists, thinking they can dream the world into Arcadia!"

Bambi's clear laugh startled him.

"What amuses you so?" he asked, shortly.

"I suppose I rather like the idealist type."

He looked at her closely.

"Good heavens, you don't think I'm like that, do you?"

"A little," she admitted.

"If I thought that I was that particular brand of idiot I'd learn bookkeeping and be a clerk," was the reply.

"Maybe it isn't you--maybe it is just _man_ I recognize."

"You can see how terribly clever the woman is--to set each of us accusing the other."

"She is just a student of types, that's all," Bambi disparaged the lady.

So they began their co-partnership. The shyness, the appeal, the new self-conscious element Bambi had sensed in Jarvis gave way to the old mental relationship as fellow workman. They had regular office hours, as they called it. They experimented to see whether they obtained the best results, when they each worked at a scene alone and went over it together for the final polishing; or when they actually worked on it in unison. Four hours in the morning they laboured, took an hour of recess after lunch, then two hours more, followed by a tramp off into the country, talking play, play, play.

These were days of keen delight to them both. They worked together so smoothly and so well. Jarvis's high-handed superiority had given way to a well-grounded respect for Bambi's quick apprehension of a false note, an unnatural line, or a bungled climax.

The first interruption came with the advent of Richard Strong to spend the weekend, and Jarvis made no comment when Bambi announced his coming and declared Saturday a holiday. He even agreed to meet their guest at the station. The two men came back together in amicable converse.

"I am so glad you could come, Richard," Bambi greeted him, in her eager way.

Jarvis started at the Christian name, and flushed angrily at Strong's reply.

"Happy New Year, Francesca!"

Richard and Francesca--so they had gone as far as that on the road to intimacy was Jarvis's hurt comment to himself.

After that he watched Strong every minute for signs of special devotion, and before the day was over he had satisfied himself that these two cared deeply for each other. The way Strong's eyes followed her every movement, the way he anticipated her wants, understood her before she spoke--they were all damning evidences of the situation. That Bambi showed herself grateful, as vividly as she did everything else, entirely escaped Jarvis. She loved him, that was the truth, and he alone stood between her and happiness.

The two days dragged by, in torment, for him. It seemed as if they would never be over, so that he might face the truth by himself, with Strong out of the picture, and decide what must be done. Bambi noticed his strained politeness to their guest, but set it down to the same inconsistency he had shown before, of being jealous of what he did not especially value himself.

Monday, after Strong's departure, she began to realize that there was a change in him. He was taciturn and moody. The work went badly. He disagreed with her at every point, and when she suggested that they stop an hour earlier than usual, he went off by himself, without asking her to go. She began to wonder whether his dislike of Strong was really serious and something to be taken cognizance of.

Jarvis strode off into the country in a state of nerves unknown before. A sleepless night and the irritation of the day's work had played their havoc with him. He went over the thing again and again. Bambi and Strong loved each other--he stood in the way. Why should he not take himself out of the situation at once? "She married me for a whim; she will unmarry me the same way," he reiterated to himself. "Why did she do it, in the first place, unless she cared something for me? But she told me she had no sentiment for me," he replied to his other self. "It was ambition that made her do it. She thought I would be famous. I've disappointed her, and she's through with me." He went over every incident of their reunion--his thrill at her welcome. "She didn't really care; it was just her way," he assured himself.

For hours he plunged through the woods, pursued by his bitter thoughts. When he turned back at last, into the garden, he knew that a precious, new-born thing, which he had brought back with him after his exile, was laid away, never to be allowed to come into full flower and maturity.

His decision was made. He temporized on one point. He would stay on until the play was produced, so that if it succeeded, as he was determined it should, Bambi would have that much satisfaction from her matrimonial experiment. Then he would let her divorce him, and he would take himself out of her life.

She was in the library when he went in. She caught sight of his face, and exclaimed:

"Jarvis, my dear, how tired you look!"

He started to go, but she detained him.

"Is anything the matter, Jarvis?"

"No, what should be the matter?"

"I don't know, but if there is anything you want to talk out with me, let's have it now. We can't afford to have any misunderstandings between us."

"There is nothing," he said, and left the room.

That night, after dinner, he sat late in his study, writing. Two days later the result of the evening's work came to Bambi:

"DEAR AUTHOR LADY: Some days ago I sent you my new address, so that you need not send letters to the theatre, but so far I have not heard from you. To-night, for some reason, I feel moved to write to you as I would wish to talk to you were you near me.

"I say for some reason, and yet I know the reason. It is because of your human understanding of the things that make men glad or sad. I am beginning to know that only through the ache of experience can we come to understand each other. Surely there must be something of sadness back of your life, Lady of Mystery, to give you this power.

"To-day I have fought out a bitter fight with myself, and I feel the loneliness that comes in a crisis, when each man of us must stand or fall, alone.

"The play goes ahead rapidly. As I told you, Mrs. Jocelyn and I have great satisfaction in our work on it. I am determined to wring success from it. Both for your sake and for mine, I must!

"Is this personal letter distasteful to you? Do I depend too much upon your gracious understanding? If I do, say so, and I will not offend again.

"Faithfully, "JARVIS JOCELYN."

Bambi read this letter over and over again, behind the locked door of her bedroom. What did it all mean? What was the bitter fight that drove Jarvis to this other woman for solace? How far did she dare draw him out on it, without offending her own sense of fitness? Had this innocent plot of hers, to startle him into amazed admiration, led them both into a labyrinth of misunderstanding?

She answered Jarvis's letter and sent it to the theatre, asking them to forward it:

"DEAR MR. JOCELYN: Your letter touched me very much in its appeal for my sympathy and understanding. I am regretful that sorrow has found you out. I think of you always as young and strong and happy, with a young wife, and the world before you. I hate to have you spoil my picture.

"I repeat my satisfaction that you and your wife enjoy your work on 'Francesca.' I found such happiness myself in doing her, that I like to think we share the pleasure between us, we three.

"Is it your own ambition that drives you so that you say 'I must,' in regard to success? Sometimes, if we set our hearts too much on a thing, our very determination thwarts us. Is it not so? Perhaps it is for the sake of some one else that you are so eager for accomplishment. I feel that it is to come to you in this play, and I am glad.

"Be of good cheer, Comrade. Even the memory of bitter fights grows dim. I will not think of you as daunted by anything life can offer. No, nor death. Why have I this confidence in you, I wonder?

"In all friendliness, "THE LADY OF MYSTERY."

The day this letter came to Jarvis marked a change in him to Bambi's watchful eye. He threw himself with renewed ardour into the work. For the first time in many days they walked together, and he seemed more himself than he had been since Strong's unfortunate visit. Was it the effect of this letter? He was beginning to be easily influenced by this supposed stranger! The idea was too fantastic.

"What kind of a woman do you imagine the author of 'Francesca' to be?" she asked him as they trudged along a wintry road. He started a little, she thought.

"I scarcely know," he evaded. "I always think of her as tall and thin and frail, with a rather sad face, white, with humorous gray eyes, and a sensitive mouth."

"I always think of her as little and fat and cuddly."

"Oh, not cuddly!" he protested.

She laughed.

"Any news from her lately?"

"Yes. I had a letter to-day."

"Did you ask if she was coming to rehearsals?"

"Not yet."

"Haven't you any curiosity about her?"

"In a way, yes. But I respect her desire in the matter."

"I don't. If I could get it out of Richard Strong who she is, I'd go look her up in a minute."

"Have you tried?" eagerly.

"He won't tell. He's the King of Clams."

"He has no right to tell."

"It is very smart of her to work up all this mystery about herself. No doubt she is a wobbly old fatty, instead of the Beatrice you think her."

He made no answer, but she saw by his face how he resented it.

A wicked design grew in Bambi's mind. She would make Jarvis Jocelyn fall so desperately and hopelessly in love with this dream-woman of his that she would be revenged upon him for the way he had shut her out since Strong's visit. It never once occurred to her that it was a hurt she had given him which drove him to this other woman. But the something which he had offered her the night of his return he had deliberately withdrawn, before she had a chance to accept or refuse it. Well, here was a chance to punish him and she would take it.

XXIII

From the day of her resolve absolute impersonality characterized their relations during Work hours. Sometimes they walked together; sometimes Bambi went alone or made visits to her friends. Jarvis felt more and more her withdrawal from him. He attributed it to her increased affection for Strong and a consequent abhorrence of her husband's presence.

One morning she announced that she was going to New York for the day.

"But we were to work on the big climax to-day," Jarvis protested.

"You work at it. You can do it without me," she said, airily.

"You are as tired of the play as you are of me," said Jarvis earnestly.

"Absurd. I am much interested in the play and I am not tired of you."

"Shall you see Strong?"

"Yes. I shall spend part of the day with him. Did you wish to send him a message?"

"It wouldn't be fit for you to carry," he answered, fiercely.

"Richard is not your favourite companion, is he?" she tantalized.

"He is not!"

"Sorry. I am very fond of him."

"That does not need saying."

"I have never tried to disguise it."

"No, I should say you were both frank about it."

"Why shouldn't we be, Jarvis?" said Bambi with irritation.

"Exactly. Why shouldn't you be?"

"You naturally cannot expect to regulate or choose my friends."

"I expect nothing."

"Then I would be obliged to you if you made your dislike of my friend a trifle less conspicuous."

"If you will let me know when he is expected, I will always go elsewhere."