“O God, who makest us glad with the yearly remembrance
of the birth of Thy Son—”
David was beaten; most tragic defeat of all, beaten
by those he had loved and faithfully served.
He did not rise on Christmas morning, and Dick, visiting
him after an almost untasted breakfast, found him
still in his bed and questioned him anxiously.
“I’m all right,” he asserted.
“I’m tired, Dick, that’s all.
Tired of fighting. You’re young.
You can carry it on, and win. But I’ll
never see it. They’re stronger than we
are.”
Later he elaborated on that. He had kept the
faith. He had run with courage the race that
was set before him. He had stayed up at night
and fought for them. But he couldn’t fight
against them.
Dick went downstairs again and shutting himself in
his office fell to pacing the floor. David was
right, the thing was breaking him. Very seriously
now he contemplated abandoning the town, taking David
with him, and claiming his estate. They could
travel then; he could get consultants in Europe; there
were baths there, and treatments—
The doorbell rang. He heard Minnie’s voice
in the hail, not too friendly, and her tap at the
door.
“Some one in the waiting-room,” she called.
When he opened the connecting door he found Elizabeth
beyond it, a pale and frightened Elizabeth, breathless
and very still. It was a perceptible moment
before he could control his voice to speak. Then:
“I suppose you want to see David. I’m
sorry, but he isn’t well to-day. He is
still in bed.”
“I didn’t come to see David, Dick.”
“I cannot think you want to see me, Elizabeth.”
“I do, if you don’t mind.”
He stood aside then and let her pass him into the
rear office.
But he was not fooled at all. Not he.
He had been enough. He knew why she had come,
in the kindness of heart. (She was so little.
Good heavens, a man could crush her to nothing!) She
had come because she was sorry for him, and she had
brought forgiveness. It was like her. It
was fine. It was damnable.
His voice hardened, for fear it might be soft.
“Is this a professional visit, or a Christmas
call, Elizabeth? Or perhaps I shouldn’t
call you that.”
“A Christmas call?”
“You know what I mean. The day of peace.
The day—what do you think I’m made
of, Elizabeth? To have you here, gentle and good
and kind—”
He got up and stood over her, tall and almost threatening.
“You’ve been to church, and you’ve
been thinking things over, I know. I was there.
I heard it all, peace on earth, goodwill to men.
Bosh. Peace, when there is no peace. Good
will! I don’t want your peace and good
will.”
She looked up at him timidly.
“You don’t want to be friends, then?”
