Complete weird tales of.., p.1308
Complete Weird Tales of Robert W Chambers, page 1308
“But suppose I found I did not love you, silly?”
“You would be no worse off than if you married the inevitable.”
Her head lay on his shoulder; she looked at him reflectively. “Suppose,” she said, “suppose I marry neither of you — for a while — and let that wretched inheritance go!”
“For God’s sake, let it go!” he said fiercely.
“Give me a ghost of a chance; that is all I ask — more than I dare hope.”
“And — if I loved you — in the remote future, would you marry a penniless girl?”
“Will that penniless girl promise me?” he asked under his breath.
“No!” said her mother from the glass doorway. And they both stood up.
“The dishonorable part you have played,” continued the quivering matron, “matches your lack of the elemental decencies, and your ignorance of the ordinary observances of conventional—” Fury choked her.
“I only desire to marry your daughter, madam.”
“Naida!”
“Yes, mamma.”
She hesitated, turned to the man beside her, and looked up at him.
“Good-by,” she said; “don’t forget.”
Forget what, silly child? A flirt whom he had so easily kissed in a conservatory? Why, men find them everywhere — and not too difficult. Her first? Why, some man must be a coquette’s first — and in her case it happened to be Leeds.
So she walked slowly to the door, and her mother took her arm, and she looked back at the man standing there, his hands fumbling the shreds of her broken fan.
“Good night!” she said; and to her mother: “You hurt my arm, dear.”
“Are you mad?” hissed that horrified matron. “Quite. I told him I was likely to do anything to-night.”
“You have done it!”
“I hope so, mother.”
“Hope what?”
“That I’ve made him love me.”
“Merciful Heaven! What has—” She halted, turning her tall daughter to face her. “Is it champagne?” she demanded.
“No; do I look dreadfully mussed? Oh, well — it was my first kiss, you know. One doesn’t understand how to take it coolly; I was very awkward — and fool enough to cry. My head aches. I fancy I look perfectly disreputable. Mother, will you — there he is now! — will you please keep off your Thornes and your Russians until I can escape? I will be in the dressing room — quite ready to go, mother dear.”
“Naida,” she said, her voice trembling, “I tell you now that if you are actually in love—”
“Yes, dear?”
“If you are, don’t consider my — my wishes—”
“About Mr. Thorne?”
“About anybody — even a man disreputable enough to kiss you—”
“Any man — to save my inheritance, mother?”
“Any eligible man, we decided.”
“Then it’s got to be somebody?”
“It has, little daughter — unless we’re a pair of fools!”
“Well, then — if it’s to be a man, I think — I think—” She turned and looked back into the long conservatories. But what she thought she did not utter, for at that moment the Russian spied her and came up palled and speechlessly fierce. And she took his arm very sweetly.
“Now we’ll dance until daylight if you desire,” she said, heading him off in the midst of an astonished inquiry concerning her disappearance. “I think we had better have the jolliest time we can — while it lasts. Because,” she added pensively, “I may run away from everybody some day. I’m quite likely to do anything, you know; am I not, mother?”
His alarm was so genuine that she threw back her head and laughed the most delicious and carefree laugh he had ever heard from her.
“Ah! It is a pleasantry!” he said, inexpressibly relieved.
“Of course,” she said gayly. “I shall keep my legacy and marry somebody — you or Thorne or somebody. Therefore, monsieur, I require sleep; therefore” — she dropped his arm and a courtesy at the same time—” adieu, monsieur.”
“So soon, mademoiselle!”
“None too soon, monsieur. Mother! If you are ready? The prince is waiting to make his adieus.”
An hour later her mother kissed her good night with the humble and modest conviction that she had done well by every daughter, and had garnered every penny with which that miserable will had tantalized her so long.
“Good night, Naida,” she said affectionately. “De Peyster is a lovable fellow. If you can’t love him you can’t love anybody.”
“I don’t know; I’ll see how I sleep, mother.”
“What do you mean, Naida?” she asked anxiously.
“That’s just it — I don’t know exactly what I do mean. But I’ll know if I don’t sleep. Good night, mother. If I am not in my room in the morning you will know I have married — somebody.”
“You — you wouldn’t do—”
“Oh, you know I am likely to do anything! I wish I could guess what it is to be — the next thing I am destined to do.”
She turned over in her great white bed, burying her hot cheeks in the pillow. She heard her mother leave the room; then her maid tiptoeing about, and presently the click of the electric button. She opened her eyes in darkness, and lying there fell a-thinking of the ghost of a chance a man had lost forever — or was it the man who had lost it? Was it not the maid after all?
“Men kiss pretty women when they can,” she reasoned, raising her hands to her heated cheeks. “He meant nothing that he will not forget this time next month.... So that is how it feels to be kissed! And I sniveled.... dear me!
“Still — if I had only had time — I could have made him love me — I think.... But artists are notoriously inconstant.... and usually very poor. If I — I could have married him, I should have felt morally obliged to bring him something. So there you are; I didn’t know he was like that or I might have hunted him up and given him a chance a year ago.... Why didn’t he take it? He — it is impossible he could suddenly love me — now — at the last moment, when it’s too late.... And I suppose it was abominable of him to have kissed me.... And he did it so frequently....
As a matter of fact, I, lying here, am a thoroughly kissed girl.... And I’m shamelessly indifferent to his guilt and mine. So — I think I’ll sleep a little...
But she couldn’t.
“If I really find that I can’t sleep,” she said softly to herself, “I’m likely to do almost anything. I wonder whether he is asleep.”
He was not; he was seated in a rather small, dark, and chilly room not half a mile uptown. Jaws set, chin on his clenched fist, looking into the hollow eyes of a ghost — the Ghost of Chance. But the ghost as yet had made no sign.
For a while she lay there, wide-eyed, restless, face and arms flushed, her heart quickening to the rapid rush of disordered thought hurrying her onward — whither, she scarcely knew, until she found herself standing before her mirror, the electric light flooding the room once more.
“I can’t lie there,” she said to herself; “I can’t sleep; it seems to me as if I could never sleep again.”
The small gilt clock struck the hour — five! She considered it, turned and went to the window, and, raising the shade, looked out. The shadows of the electric lamps played quivering over the snow; nothing else stirred. She crossed the room and opened her door, listening there in the darkness. Then, treading softly, the tips of her fingers on the mahogany rail to guide her, she felt her way down the stairs, her small bare feet brushing the velvet carpet.
There was an electric jet in the lower hall; she turned it on, groped about on the telephone shelf for the directory, and turned the leaves noiselessly until she came to the letter, L. Very carefully she traced the column of names, eyes following her moving finger, until she found what she wanted. Then she turned, unhooked the receiver, and pressed it to her ear:
“Hello!” she almost whispered. “Please give me nine — O — three — Lenox Hill.”
And after a throbbing wait:
“Is this the Lenox Club?”
* * * *
“Has Mr. Leeds come in yet?”
* * * *
“Perhaps he isn’t asleep. Please find out.... No, I can’t give my name.”
* * * *
“Yes; it is of great importance. If he is asleep, please wake him.”
* * * *
“Yes, I’ll hold the wire.”
The receiver against her ear was trembling, but she could not control her hand.
“Yes!... Is that you, Mr. Leeds?”
* * * *
“Can’t you guess who it is?”
* * * *
“You can’t! Do you mean to intimate that other gir — other people call you up at five o’clock in the morning!”
* * * *
“Of course it is I!”
* * * *
“Yes, Naida.”
* * * *
“I am at home. I could not sleep, so I thought I would find out whether you could. Besides, I wanted to know whether you stayed for the cotillon.”
* * * *
“But why didn’t you?”
* * * *
“Oh! that is very nice of you — to say that I — And haven’t you really been asleep?”
* * * *
“Doing what?”
* * * *
“Thinking of me!”
* * * *
“All alone in your room at this ghastly hour of the morning, thinking about me? Do you expect me to believe—”
* * * *
“I won’t tell you — now.”
“Haven’t I enough to keep me awake thinking?”
* * * *
“No, I don’t mean that. You know perfectly well that you gave me sufficient to think about — for the rest of my days.”
* * * *
“Don’t say that over the ‘phone! Yes, it was the first — the very first time it had ever been — been done to me.”
* * * *
“No, I don’t forget anything; I never shall. What do you mean by a ghost of a chance?”
* * * *
“Oh! Do you truly mean that? I am so — so dreadfully happy to hear you say that—”
* * * *
“Yes.”
* * * *
“Yes.”
* * * *
“Yes.”
* * * *
“Ye-s—”
* * * *
“Oh-h!”
* * * *
“What! Now!!”
* * * *
“Do you mean now? — at five o’clock in the — —”
* * * *
“I do! I am in love with you! But Pm not insane—”
* * * *
“Oh, this is dreadful! — Yes, I’ll hold the wire. Yes, the other name for it is the Church of the Transfiguration, but—”
* * * *
“Nobody will do it for us at this hour!”
* * * *
“Well, I’ll wait—”
She leaned against the telephone shelf, the receiver pressed convulsively to her ear, blue eyes closed. Years seemed to drag Time in endless chains across her vision; her knees fell trembling; thought, run riot, raced through her brain, and every little pulse clamored to the heart’s hard beating.
“Yes!” she gasped with a start; “I’m still here.”
* * * *
“No, I am not dressed for — for the street—”
* * * *
“Yes — if you wish it.... It will take only a few minutes. But, oh — do you think — ?”
* * * *
“Truly I will; I do love you.”
* * * *
“Yes, I will hurry. Good-by—”
* * * *
“I do! I do! You will see!”
Up the dark stairway once more in velvet-footed haste, giving herself no moment for considering what she was about to do; masses of heavy, glowing hair in a tangle, with comb and brush flying; the soft, intimate perfume of lace and delicate linen, silk, and the flutter of ribbon; then gown and hat and furs — a stare at the unknown face in the mirror — her last adieu to the girl she had known so long. But, in the dark outside her door, she heard the summons — the voiceless call of the Ghost of Chance, waiting attendance; and her heart responded passionately. Down through the darkness again — fumbling at chain and bolt — the keen night air in her throat; and, through the wintry silence veiled in darkness, the yellow lamps of a brougham gilding her face, dazzling her as she laid her groping hand on the arm of the man who sprang forward to guide her.
“You mustn’t shiver so — you must not tremble that way,” he whispered. “It is all right, dear; I’ve got McManus and Kenna for witnesses; they’re at the church; I’ve made arrangements. Naida! Naida! The inevitable was never inevitable while there was the ghost of a chance that you loved me.”
She caught his hands in hers, staring into his face, which was as white as her own. “Oh!” she breathed. “I love you so. As maid — as wife, you have taken all there is to me — all of good, of evil — with my first kiss! I am yours — no matter what an outward fate might hold for me.... Listen; look at me! Am I to go with you? Shall you repent it? Wait — hush, dear; it is not too late yet. I am not thinking of myself — for the first time in my life I am not thinking of self; nor of my mother; she is easily reconciled. I am thinking of you — of you and all that splendor your spirit lives in — all the heavenly world into which you set me — into which you painted me, transfigured, with eyes that seemed just opening in paradise!
“Tell me, dear; your life is important; it is really not your own to throw away. Shall I go with you? Shall I stay here, quiet with your memory — my life already fulfilled?”
His answer was so low that she bent her head close to his to listen. And, after a long while, unclosing her eyes, she saw through the carriage window the dim gas lamps shining and the stained light of a church window tracing across the snow a celestial pathway tinted with crimson, azure, and gold. The horses halted with a snowy thud of dancing hoofs; the wintry air rushed into her face as the carriage door was opened by two tall Irishmen wearing very shiny silk hats.
“Naida, Mr. McManus — Mr. Kenna—”
The tall hats of the tall Irishmen swept the snow; to each in turn she offered an unsteady little hand; then leaning on Leeds’s arm she entered the iron gateway, the two contractors following.
“The purty lady,” purred Kenna; “d’ye mind the little hand of her, McManus?”
“I did so; an’ I seen the mitten to fit it. Shquare yer chist, man; we’re walkin’ on shtocks and bonds; we’re walkin’ on the red neck o’ pride and power, Kenna. Whisht; cock yer hat, an’ thread majestic!”
And so through the snowy darkness of dawn they passed across the frozen gardens to that little church around the corner where no sweeter bride shall ever kneel than knelt there then at prayer among the tinted shadows. And behind them knelt the Ghost of Chance.
The sun rose at seven; and a little later the bride left the church, her pale, enraptured face uplifted to the rosy zenith. She returned to earth presently: “Jim, shall we stop and breakfast with — our mother?”
He pressed her hand in agonized acquiescence; he was too scared to speak. At the same time he seemed to be conscious of something at his elbow, laughing in silence. It was the Ghost of Chance bidding them au revoir. Then the brougham drove up at a signal from Kenna; the bride entered, and Leeds turned to McManus: “At five o’clock this morning I wired Thorne that the key panel was finished and ready to deliver. We leave for Florida this afternoon. Will you see that the contract is carried out?”
“Arrah, leave it to Kenna, Misther Leeds. Is that all, sorr?”
“All — I think—”
“There is wan little item I’m thinkin’ yer sweet lady has forgotten — but mayhap she has no need av it — now—”
“What’s that, McManus?”
“The other mitten, sorr,” giggled McManus. Leeds looked at him for a full second; they shook hands very seriously.
Then, as the carriage wheeled and drove west, the bride, leaning on her husband’s shoulder to look back, caught a last glimpse of a snowy little church, an ice-festooned fountain behind the shrubbery, and, moving majestically in the middle distance, shoulder to shoulder, arm under arm, two dignified Irishmen, their tall hats burnished into splendor by the rising sun.
THE END
Police!!!
Published in 1915, this short story collection is one of Chambers’ final works of fantastic fiction. The stories tackle themes that include xenobiology and cryptozoology – the study of creatures beyond the knowledge of conventional zoology. The tone is light and humorous rather than horrific, however, owing more to Mark Twain than to Ambrose Bierce. As with Chambers’ earlier collection, In Search of the Unknown, science fiction elements are intertwined with romantic love interest and comic touches to produce a whimsical atmosphere.
Cover of the first edition
CONTENTS
POLICE!!!
THE THIRD EYE
THE IMMORTAL
THE LADIES OF THE LAKE
ONE OVER
UN PEU D’AMOUR
THE EGGS OF THE SILVER MOON
Title page of the first edition
TO
LOUISE JOCELYN
All the pretty things you say, All the pretty things you do In your own delightful way Make me fall in love with you, Turning Autumn into May.
Every day is twice as gay Just because of you, Louise! Which is going some, you say? In my dull, pedantic way I am fashioning my lay Just because I want to please.
Just because the things you say, Just because the things you do In your clever, charming way Make me fall in love with you. That is all, my dear, to-day.
R.W.C.
Christmas, 1915.
* * *
“Dainty noses to the wind, their beautiful eyes wide and alert.”
FOREWORD
GIVE ME NO gold nor palaces Nor quarts of gems in chalices Nor mention me in Who is Who I’d rather roam abroad with you Investigating sky and land, Volcanoes, lakes, and glacial sand I’d rather climb with all my legs To find a nest of speckled eggs, Or watch the spotted spider spin Or see a serpent shed its skin! Give me no star-and-garter blue! I’d rather roam around with you.
