CHAPTER XVI

THE PROMISE

On returning to Mrs. Van Reypen’s room, Patty found that lady sleeping quietly, so she herself went to bed on a couch in the dressing-room adjoining. Next morning, the patient was weak and ill, and when the doctor arrived he sent at once for two nurses. Patty went home, feeling sad, for she feared her kind old friend might not survive this illness.

But Nan cheered her up, saying that while grip was sometimes a serious matter, more often, it was light and of short duration.

“But it is contagious,” Nan went on, “and I don’t want you to catch it, Patty. Don’t go over there again, until Mrs. Van Reypen gets better.”

Patty agreed to this, but a few days later, there came such an imperative summons from Mrs. Van Reypen that Patty felt she must respond to the call.

“Well, don’t go very near her,” begged Nan, as Patty started. “You are susceptible to colds, and if you get grip, it will wear you out.”

* * * * *

Reaching the house, Patty was shocked at the appearance of Mrs. Van Reypen. She was emaciated and her face had a waxen pallor. But her dark eyes were feverishly bright, and she greeted Patty with an eager smile. Then she sent the nurse from the room, with peremptory orders not to return until called.

“Patty, I want to talk to you,” the old lady began.

“All right, Lady Van,” said Patty, lightly, “but you musn’t talk much. If it’s an important subject, you’d better wait till you are stronger.”

“I shall never be stronger, my dear. This is my last illness,——”

“Oh, now, don’t talk like that. Grip always makes its patients discouraged, but you are too sensible to be fooled by it. Brace up, and resolve to get well, and then you will get well.”

Patty was arguing against her own convictions, for she saw the ravages the disease had made, and she feared the worst. But she did all she could to cheer and encourage.

“It’s useless for you to talk like that,” the invalid went on, “for I know what I know. Now listen to me. I am going to die. I know it, and I am not afraid. I am seventy years old, I have had a happy life, and if my time has come, I am willing to die. Life is sweet, but we must all die, and it is only a coward who fears death. I am going to leave you a fortune, Patty. I have made my will and in it, I bequeath you a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Oh, Lady Van,” Patty gasped, “don’t, _don’t_ leave me all that money! I should be overcome with the responsibility of it.”

“Nonsense! But listen to the plan. I want you to have half of it absolutely for yourself, and the other half, use to build a Children’s Home. I know you will enjoy doing this, and I trust you to do it well. Thus, you see, your own share of the money is, in a way, payment for your work and responsibility of the Home. You may build, rent, or buy a house for the purpose. Your father and Philip will help you as to the business matters. But the furnishing and house planning will be your work. Will you do this?”

“I’d love to do it!” and Patty’s eyes shone at the idea. “If I am capable.”

“Of course you’re capable. Not a big Home, you understand, but as large as the money will properly pay for. Then, have it bright and pretty, and if it only accommodates a dozen children, I don’t care. I know this is your favourite form of philanthropy and it is also mine. I wish we could have done it together, but it is too late for that now. But Philip will help you, and if more money is necessary, he will give it to you, from his own inheritance. Phil is a rich man, but I shall leave him all my fortune except what I give you. So don’t hesitate to ask him if you need more funds.”

“All right, but I shall put your whole bequest into the scheme. I don’t want to be paid for doing what will be a great pleasure.”

“Don’t be a little simpleton! You will take your own half for your individual use, and not a cent of it is to go toward the Home. There is money enough for that. And it isn’t payment. I give it to you, because I am really very fond of you. You have made sunshine in my life ever since I first found you, and I am glad to give you a small fortune. When you marry, as you will some day, you will find it very nice to be able to buy what you want for your trousseau. You can buy worth-while jewels with it, or, if you prefer, put it out at interest and have a stated income. But accept it you must, or I shall think you don’t love me at all.”

“Oh, yes, I do. Dear Lady Van, you know I do.”

“Then don’t upset my last hours by refusing what I offer.”

Patty almost laughed at the snappish tone, so incongruous in one who was making a splendid gift. But Mrs. Van Reypen was getting more and more excited. A red spot burned in either cheek, and her eyes blazed as she gesticulated from her pillows.

“And there’s another thing, Patty Fairfield, that you are to do for me. You are to marry my boy, Philip.”

“Well,” and Patty laughed lightly, “we won’t discuss that now.”

“But we will discuss it now. I want your promise. Do you suppose I got you over here just to tell you about my will? No. I want you to promise me that you will grant me this happiness before I die. Philip loves you deeply. He wants you for his wife and he has told you so. Where could you find a better man? A more honourable, a kinder, a more generous and loving heart? And he worships you. He would always be gentle and tender with you. He is of fine old stock, there is no better family tree in the country than the Van Reypens. Now, will you give me your promise?”

“Oh, Lady Van, I can’t promise offhand, like this. You must let me think it over.”

“You’ve had time enough for that. Tell me,—you care for Philip, don’t you?”

“Yes, indeed I care for him a great deal,—as a friend. But I don’t think I love him as I ought to—as I want to love the man I marry.”

“Fiddlesticks! You don’t know your own mind, that’s all. You’re a foolish, sentimental child. Now, look here, you marry Philip soon,—and you’ll find out that you do love him. Why, who could help it? He’s such a splendid fellow. He would make you as happy as the day is long. Patty, he’s a man of a thousand. He hasn’t a bad trait or an unworthy thought in his mind. You don’t know how really fine he is. And he adores you so,—he would give you every wish of your heart.”

“I know he would. He has told me so. But I can’t feel sure that I care for him in the right way. And I can’t promise——”

“You mean you won’t! You are willing to trifle with Philip’s affections and lead him on and lure him with false hopes and then——”

“Stop, stop! That’s not fair! I never led him on! We have been good friends for years, but I never even imagined his wanting to marry me until he told me so last summer.”

“Last summer! And you haven’t given him a definite answer yet! You keep him on tenter-hooks without the least consideration or care as to his feelings. If he were not such a patient man, he would have given up all idea of wanting you. Do you know what you are, Patty Fairfield? You’re a little flirt, that’s what you are! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! How many other men have you on a string? Several, I dare say.”

“Lady Van, you have no right to talk to me like this? If you were not ill, I’d be very angry with you. But as you are, I ascribe your harsh speeches to the illness that is racking you. Now, let us drop the subject and talk of something pleasanter.”

“We’ll do nothing of the sort! I sent for you to get your promise, and I’m going to get it!” Mrs. Van Reypen sat upright in her bed, and shook her clenched hand at Patty. “You little fool!” she cried, “any girl in her senses would be only too glad to get such a man as my nephew! You are honoured by his wanting you. I am very fond of you myself,—you are so pretty and sunny-faced. But if you refuse me this wish of my heart, I shall cease to love you. I won’t leave you that money, I——”

The old lady’s voice rose nearly to a shriek, and she glared at Patty with a fairly malevolent gaze.

That last speech was too much for Patty.

“I don’t want your money,” she said, rising to go. “I cannot stay and listen to such unjust remarks as you have been making. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you the promise you ask, and as I can’t please you I think I’d better go.”

“Sit down,” begged Mrs. Van Reypen, and now her anger was gone, and her tones were wheedlesome. “Forgive me, dear, I have no right to force your will. But please, Patty Girl, think it over, here and now. You can easily learn to love Phil,—you’re not in love with anybody else, are you?”

“No,” replied Patty.

“Then, as I say, you can easily learn to love him, he is such a dear. And he would treat you like a princess. He would shower you with gifts and pleasures. You could live in this house, or he would buy you or build you whatever home you fancied. Then, together, you could carry out my project for the Children’s Home. Your life would be a heaven on earth. Don’t you think so, Patty,—dear Patty?”

When Lady Van chose she could be very sweet and ingratiating. And she seemed to hypnotize Patty. The girl looked at her with a hesitating expression.

“Say yes,” pleaded the old lady. “Please, Patty, say yes. You’ll never regret it, and you will be happy all your life. And you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you eased the last hours of a dying woman and sent her out of the world happy and contented to go. For I am dying, Patty. You do not know all of my ills. I may live a few days, but not longer. The doctor knows and so do the nurses. I haven’t told Philip, for I hate to cause him pain. But if I can tell him of your promise to marry him, it will mitigate his grief at saying farewell to me. Now you will say yes, won’t you, my dear little Patty Girl?”

“But——”

“No buts now. You couldn’t have the heart to refuse the dying request of one who has always loved you like a daughter. I would gladly have adopted you, Patty, had your people been willing to spare you. I went to see your parents not long ago. Your father said there is no man in the world he would rather see you marry than Philip. And Mrs. Nan said the same. Why do you fight against it so? Is it merely shyness? Just maidenly reserve? If that’s it, I understand and appreciate. But waive all that, for my time is short. You needn’t marry him at once if you don’t wish, but promise me that he shall be your choice. That he will be the man you will some day wed and make happy. Won’t you promise, Patty?”

“I—can’t——”

“Yes, you can!” Mrs. Van Reypen leaned out of her bed, and grasped Patty’s arm in a vise-like clutch. “You can and you shall! Now,—at once! Promise!”

The black eyes of the old lady bored into Patty’s own. Her firm, hard mouth was set in a straight line. And with both hands she gripped Patty’s arms and shook her slightly. “Promise, or I shall die on the spot!”

“I promise,” said Patty, faintly, urged on by the older woman’s force of intensity of will.

Mrs. Van Reypen fell back exhausted. She seemed unconscious, but whether in a faint, or stunned by sudden reaction, Patty did not know.

She flew to the door and called the nurse.

“Goodness! What happened?” inquired Miss French. “Has she had any sort of mental shock?”

“She has given me one,” returned Patty, but the nurse was busy administering restoratives, and paid no heed.

Patty went slowly downstairs and out into the street. She walked home in a daze. What had she done? For to Patty a promise was a sacred thing and not to be broken. She hoped Mrs. Van Reypen would get better and she would go and ask to be released from a promise that was fairly wrung from her. She was undecided whether to tell Nan about it or not, but concluded to wait a day or two first. And then, she thought to herself, why wasn’t she prepared to fulfill the promise? Why didn’t she want to marry Phil, big, kind-hearted Phil, who loved her so deeply? At times it almost seemed as if she did want to marry him, and then again, she wasn’t sure.

“I’ll sleep over it,” she thought, “and by tomorrow I’ll know my own mind better. I must be a very wobbly-brained thing, anyhow. Why don’t I know what I want? But I suppose every girl feels like this when she tries to make up her mind. Philip is a dear, that’s certain. Maybe I’m worrying too much over it. Well, I’ll see by tomorrow.”

But the next day and the next, Patty was equally uncertain as to whether she was glad or sorry that she had made that promise.

And after another day or two she went down herself with the grip.

“I told you you’d catch it from Mrs. Van Reypen,” scolded Nan. “You had no business to go there and expose yourself.”

“But I had to go when she sent for me,” said Patty.

“What did she want of you? you never told me.”

“Well, for one thing, she thinks she’s going to die, and she wants to leave me a hundred thousand dollars in her will.”

“A hundred thousand! Patty, you must be crazy.”

“Well, it isn’t all for me, only half.” And then Patty told about the plan for the Children’s Home, but she said nothing about the promise she had given.

Nan was greatly excited over the bequest. “But,” she said, “I don’t believe Mrs. Van is going to die. She’s better today. I just telephoned.”

“I hope she won’t die,” said Patty fervently. “I don’t want her money, and if she gets well she can run that Home project herself, and I’ll willingly help. Oh, Nan, I do feel horrid.”

Grip has the reputation of making people feel horrid. The doctor came and sent Patty to bed, and for several days she had a high fever, which was aggravated by her mental worry over the promise she had made to Mrs. Van Reypen.