CHAPTER XXXV

For several days Jane lay in her bed, looking like a wax woman, too weak to lift her hand. Doctor Grant ordered her to stay just where she was until she wanted to get up.

"She's the kind that goes through hell without flinching, and collapses at the sight of heaven," he said to Jerry. "Keep her quiet; it's a complete nervous collapse, but she's got a fine constitution and she'll come around quickly."

The baby was improving as rapidly as he became ill, so Doctor Grant left on the night train, promising to come back on Sunday.

The trained nurse looked after Baby, while Anna took care of Jane. Jerry went from one bedside to the other. His happiness and relief were so intense that he was a most cheerful companion. Jane could not respond, but she liked to hear him humming about, and making jokes about the things he tried to persuade her to eat. The second day he carried the baby around nearly all the time. The small tyrant was not content unless he had his amusing parent at hand. Jane watched them, smiling faintly with a sense of peace and gratitude that was like music.

Jerry's new tenderness for them both was very sweet. He had never shown it before. He was always kind, because he liked people about him to be comfortable, but this was quite different. He sat beside Jane and tried to coax her to eat. He searched the town for delicacies to tempt her. When she could not sleep at night, he came to her bedside and talked to her by the hour. He had a way with pillows, and nice hands which mesmerized her into relaxation. He never was tired, nothing was too much trouble, and he took it as a matter of course that he should do just what he was doing.

Doctor Grant's week-end visit found the baby almost well again, but Jane lay where she had fallen. She was content to be still. He had a long talk with Jerry about her, suggested that he might be in for a long siege, explained that if he wanted to go back to New York to attend to his affairs, Anna was capable of taking charge, if the nurse stayed on another week.

"I think I'll go back with you then, and finish up some things I have on hand. I can come back later in the week," Jerry said.

So it was arranged. Jane agreed indifferently, nothing mattered much. But after the two men had gone she found she missed Jerry as she never had before. She thought about him a great deal in the aimless fashion which was all her mind could manage.

She could not make out just what had happened to her, but it seemed as if her whole being had suffered such anguish the night of Baby's danger that she had been paralyzed since, was incapable of feeling anything more. She wanted Jerry Jr. where she could see him, but she rarely spoke.

The installation of the picture at the New Age Club detained Jerry in town a day or so, and arrangements for a spring exhibition of portraits, which he had been invited to make, held him up until the end of the week. He was impatient to get to Lakewood, but he knew these things must be attended to, for the expenses of the doctors and nurse would be heavy.

He arrived in Lakewood on Saturday, at noon, and hurried to the cottage. He had had reports daily by telephone from the nurse, but he was surprised when Jane came toward him with the baby in her arms.

"Good work!" he cried, hugging them both. "You're better, Jane?"

"Yes."

"You're as white as a cloud, but it's becoming."

She flushed at that, gave the baby to him, and turned away hastily, on some pretext. A fine romp of the two Jerrys followed.

"The Bald One is outgrowing his title, Jane; he's getting quite a respectable wig."

"Yes--isn't it too bad."

"I don't know, Jane. Our aesthetic ideals are such that a bald child of eight or ten would not be considered beautiful."

"Do you think he looks well, Jerry?"

"Yes, fine. He's all right. Terrifying, the way the little wretch gets sick and well. Jane, my dear!" he added, for she went so white at his words.

"I can't get over it. If I think back to that night I almost die."

"Let's forget it, dear; it's over, and we're all here together. Perhaps a little more together than we ever were before," he said, with his first reference to the situation.

"You were wonderful, Jerry. I did not know how strong and tender you could be."

"Christiansen called me up, Jane."

"Yes."

"I told him you and Baby had been ill, that I had been with you. He felt that he must see you, too."

"Well?"

"I told him you were here."

"Oh, Jerry!"

"He is coming to-morrow."

"I can't see him. I can't stand any more emotion just now," she said anxiously.

"Jane, do you care for him so much?"

She closed her eyes, a second, without replying.

"When to-morrow?" she asked finally.

"In the afternoon," he said.

They did not speak of it again, but something had happened to their new-found oneness. They both tried to be perfectly natural and at ease, but the ghost of Martin was in the room.

The next day he came. He was all concern at Jane's white face. He knew in a second what a crisis she had passed through, and so he made no least reference to anything that had gone before, anything that was to be. He was dear, big Martin, delighted with the baby, courteous to Jerry, at ease in the midst of their self-consciousness. So in the end he dominated the scene.

Jerry and Anna took their small charge for a drive, leaving Martin and Jane alone. As they departed, Jane was filled with terror. She was so afraid of emotion.

"Jerry is an enemy to be proud of," said Martin.

"Jerry is a fine man, Martin," Jane answered.

He looked at her long, holding her steady eyes with his.

"You have suffered much, beloved," he said softly. "I did not come to intrude, or to demand an answer. I came because I had to know what had hurt you."

"I thought I had brought Baby here and risked his life. If he had died, I should have died, too," she said simply.

"I know. Let us not speak of it at all. Let's talk of the new book."

"The new book? Why, Martin, I had forgotten!" she exclaimed.

"Dear child," he said tenderly, "they have been deep waters!"

"The book--is it selling?" she asked.

"Yes. They told me they had good news for you."

They drifted off into talk of other things, new books, a new opera, a poet he had met. It was as if he took her into the arms of his spirit, and there she was at rest. The time flew as it always did when they were together. Jane felt the call back to life and work, the stimulus of his vitality.

Before the others came back, Martin pleaded an engagement in town, and the necessity of taking a train at six o'clock.

"Good-bye, my Jane. Whatever comes, I shall understand."

When he was gone, Jane lay on the couch they had placed for her on the balcony, looking up at the sky, and let her thoughts take shape. They flew swiftly, clearly. How Martin understood her; how tenderly he had protected her against himself--against herself. He had given his thoughts, his vitality, his devotion; he had asked nothing. There was an understanding friendship between them that was the communion of spirits. If only he had not loved her! Or was this, that they had, love? If it was, must she give it up unless she married him? She felt that she could not give it up. It was and always would be a part of her. If this was love that she felt for Martin, why did she not long for the closer union of marriage with him? Was it that she feared what marriage might do to this relation of theirs? Did it mean that she did not love him, since she felt that marriage was not necessary for the perfection of their oneness? Of course the materialistic would scoff at the idea of the marriage of minds. But she knew that Martin had impregnated her spiritual being with the germ of life as truly as she felt her book to be his child. She wondered whether Jerry would understand that.

"Asleep, Jane?" his voice said.

"No."

"Sorry I missed Christiansen; I meant to see him off. Anna has our supper ready in here by the fire. And the Bald One sends a message of urgence."

She rose and came in, laying her hand on his arm, so that he went with her to the baby's room.

"Too bad he's gone, he couldn't wait," said Jerry, as they bent over their sleeping son.

"Isn't he perfect, Jerry?" she said with feeling.

"He's A No. 1, Jane," he answered.

They went to their supper. They did not talk much. Jane was thoughtful, and Jerry respected her mood. Later, while he was smoking on the balcony, he called to her to come and see the moon. She went out, and gazed up at the white disk of radiance.

"Jerry, go get that old driver we have, and take me through that park in this moonlight," she said.

"Are you in earnest?"

"Yes."

"But you aren't well enough."

"I am well. Please, Jerry."

"All right. Wrap up well," he said, as he left her.

Presently he was back with the old, high-backed victoria, and they started. As they went into the gray forest, it was all silvered with moonshine until it looked as lovely as a poet's mind. Jane shivered. Jerry put his arm about her, and held the robe up close to her. She settled herself against him, and at his smile, she groped for his hand.

"Jane, Jane, don't!" he whispered. "I can't stand it for you to be kind, if it's...."

"If it's what?"

"The end, Jane. I feel as if my life was all over if you go. I never knew what you meant to me until--that day. But now I know. I love you so that I want you to be happy, no matter what it does to me."

"Jerry, what is love?"

"I don't know, nobody knows. The people who feel it don't know and those who never felt it, don't know. Why, Jane?"

"Because I've always supposed it was some great surging passion that swept you out of yourself and made you a different being. I thought you'd know the minute it came--the minute it died."

He leaned toward her to look more closely into her face.

"If that's the way love is, I've never known it. But if it is something sweet and poignant that binds you to somebody, something all woven of common experiences and habits and needs; if it means something to lean on when you're in trouble and to be happy with when you're glad, why then...."

"Why then, Jane?" breathlessly.

"Then at last, Jerry, I know love."

His arms tightened about her, her head slipped to his shoulder, and they kissed each other--their betrothal kiss. Jerry said nothing, but when Jane's hand went to his cheek, she felt hot tears there. After a long while he spoke, humbly:

"Jane, are you perfectly sure? Martin Christiansen is a wonderful, rare man, and I'm...."

"You're my man, Jerry. I wish we could have him for our friend, but...."

"We will, dearest, if he'll take me, too."

"He will understand, as God would," she said softly.

"Jane, how can you be so wonderful, and want to belong to me?"

With such foolish tenderness of belated courtship they drove through the silent radiance of the wood. The arbutus scent was intoxicating, and the night sounds were mysterious. They were silent, happy. As they came out of the woods and on to the open road again, Jerry heaved a deep sigh.

"Jane, heart of me, I feel as if all the problems in the world were settled for us!"

She looked up at him, and shook her head, smiling.

"Dear big, little boy-husband, our problems are just beginning. We're looking at them squarely for the first time!"

"But we're looking at them together, Jane."

"Yes, thanks be to love! Jerry, my husband, what a world! I want to cry out, with a loud voice, I want to praise the Lord, with trumpets and with shawms!"

So these two, in goodliest fellowship, turned their faces toward their new day.

THE END

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=Eagle of the Empire, The.= By Cyrus Townsend Brady. =El Dorado.= By Baroness Orczy. =Elusive Isabel.= By Jacques Futrelle. =Empty Pockets.= By Rupert Hughes. =Enchanted Hat, The.= By Harold McGrath. =Eye of Dread, The.= By Payne Erskine. =Eyes of the World, The.= By Harold Bell Wright.

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