Atlanta Daily World

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Soon they went over to the salt-box to tell Mary, hand in hand as lovers do and not speaking, "because," said Judith, "she must know, first of all. If she doesn't think I am right for you ..."

Matthew stopped her on the salt-box steps, turned her around, took her face in his hands and kissed her closed eyes and temples. He asked urgently, "Darling, will you marry me? Soon?"

Matthew's mother had heard them come in, and was out of bed reaching for robe and slippers when Matthew burst into her room. He had switched on all the living-room lights and was outlined against them. He did not need to speak, for Mary saw his face, and then Judith's.

Later Matthew and Judith sat on the little terrace of the salt-box and talked; or tried to talk. Mary had left them and gone back indoors. She had put a white coat around Judith's shoulders and said, "Matthew, take her back to the house . . . it's terribly late." Her voice had broken. Then she said, "I am so happy for you both."

When she had left them, Mary went back to her room, lying flat across the bed, not trying to sleep. She thought; this is what I wanted. She thought, without jealousy; but now he will not need me any more. Why had she come to that conclusion? Why had she not thought it when Matthew married Irene? Her heart was very tender toward Irene who had had so brief a time of happiness.

Matthew sat in an enormous chair on the terrace with Judith in his arms, saying softly.."You're so small and light."

"That's what you think," she retorted. "I grow larger and heavier as the moments pass."

"I could hold you, like this, for ever.

"Half an hour, and you'd get up and spill me off." She yawned like a drowsy child. Judith was sleepy . . . excitement, tears, emotion. and then this transcendent happiness.

"Very complimentary," commented Matthew.

"I can't help it. I'm sleepy. Yet I'm wide-awake too." She turned a little in his arms, and put her cheek against his, "You need a shave," she said.

"You are marrying a man," he warned, "whose beard grows in the twinkling of an eye."

"Let me go, darling, and take me home. Mother may be awake. I want to tell her ... and Aunt Ella."

"Let them sleep." he suggested "you can tell them in the morning. May I come over for breakfast?"

She said wonderingly, "I can't believe it...I mean..

30

"I know." He rose with Judith in his arms, set her on her feet, and took her close to him again. He said, after a moment, "It's a long time until spring."

"Terribly long," she admitted.

"But we can wait."

It had been so arranged, talking with Mary: The engagement to be announced at the end of the year and the wedding in the spring.

Matthew had demanded, "Why not now?"

He said it again. "Why not now --tomorrow--next week, as soon as possible?"

Judith. her arms about him. replied, "This is the better way . . ." and, after a moment, added, "If I speak of Irene, you won't mind? I loved you so much, I couldn't dislike her. because she loved you too, and made you happy ... there are certain conventions . . . so I think that we should wait . . . your mother does, dear, I know that."

He said. "Listen, Judy. I loved Irene, very much. Yet I do not think that I was deeply enough in love with her . .. I can't exactly explain. But I'm not discounting any of it. It wouldn't be fair to her, or to the way I felt about her. You understand that, don't you? This--- is different. I can't say how or why. Possibly because I am more mature, possibly-" He stopped. helpless.

"I can't put it into words," he ended.

"I understand, I said I wasn't jealous. I'm not. There isn't room for anything but love and happiness. I just feel that this is right, that we belong to each other.'

Judith did think with the beautiful arrogance, the tragic certainty, the divine folly of her youth and her ardor: She could not give you all that I can, my darling, no other woman could.

They walked back to the dim pink house together, over the dewy lawns . .. and nearby, because the dawn was not far away, a bird stirred in the branches and spoke sleepily, a melodic scolding, a lyrical disturbance

Matthew said, "Darling, good night."

His arm was about her as they went up the steps and into the great square hall, dimly lit. He kissed her again and again, standing at the foot of the stairs. She said breathlessly, breaking away from him at last, "Will you ever get tired of kissing me, Matthew?"

"Come here."

"No." Judith went up the stairs. a little way, and then turned to look back at him. Matthew was standing there, his eyes intent upon her. She raised her hand and dropped it again. She was conscious that her ankles were wet with dew and that her hair was disheveled. She said. smiling, "There's lipstick on your cheek."

"Who cares?"

"I'll see you at breakfast.

"Not too late. I have to get back to town."

"Darling must you?"

"Remember, you're marrying a doctor ... in the spring."

Judith smiled, then the bend of the stairs hid her from him. He went out of the hall, and closed the great front door. The air, before dawn, was fresh and sweet. He could have walked endlessly, watching the darkness pale and the gray sky lighten until the golden spears of sunlight come thrusting through.

Matthew wanted to sing and shout. He wanted to talk to someone. He knocked on his mother's door and, when she answered, went in. She had just fallen asleep and he had wakened her. It wasn't the first time.

Mary said, "So, you're happy."

"I never knew what love was like before." he confessed.

"Of course.

He said ruefully.

"You have Judith on your side."

"What do you mean?"

"She agrees with you that we should wait until spring. I don't see why," he added; "of course, I know it's conventional, but-"

"I understand. Matthew. but Judith's a member of a conventional family and yours is a conventional profession. People expect their physicians to-

"What difference does it make?"

"None, I suppose. But, for Irene's sake

Matthew was silent a moment, then said. "Look . . . We were happy, Irene and I. We loved each other. She wouldn't object . .. she would be the first to-

"Of course," Mary said, a little wearily, "and it is maybe a hollow convention, if you want to look at it that way. But you're young, Matthew, and you can wait."

He looked down at her. "Okay. I suppose so. But it's silly, if you ask me. You and Judith between you" he laughed unwillingly-"a pair of managing women. Good night.

"It's much nearer good morning." she reminded him.

At the door her son said casually, "I'll have breakfast with Judith."

"Fine," murmured Mary, "I can sleep." Then she thought, resignedly: Well. it begins. Once more the pattern of her life would be altered. In the spring she would readjust herself to living alone. Judith and Matthew would make their own home ... Lynn will laugh, he's bound to say I planned this .. Well, in the spring she would help Judith go house-hunting.

They were married. however, not in the far spring but in the near autumn, in October, with the trees flaming wine and gold, scarlet and mauve, brown and burgundy. They were married quietly in Ella's hotel suite, with no one present except Ella, propped up in bed on three pillows, Eva, Mary, and Lynn Mortimer.

For Ella's sins had found her out, and she was very much worse. She had returned to town in September and had proceeded to have two very acute attacks . . . and had said, when she was able to talk. following the second. "Matthew. I want you and Judith to be married . . . as soon as possible, I want to see you married."

Dr. Norman had said, nonsense. that she was an alarmist, but Ella had smiled at him. "You can't fool me," she'd scoff. "I'm worse and going to be no better fast. I didn't think you called in that battery of specialists for nothing. Look in my checkbook if you think it was for nothing!"

(To be continued)

Copyright, 1943. by Faith Baldwin Cuthrell;
Distributed by King Features Syndicate, Inc.