Chapter XXVIII

Huntington placed his house at the disposal of the Thatchers during Class Day week, and urged them to arrive the Saturday before so that he might show them something of Boston before the college festivities set in. He had corresponded freely with Mrs. Thatcher during the weeks Hamlen had been his guest, sharing with her his own gratification that their joint undertaking proceeded with such promise of success. But each letter she wrote contained some reference to her desire to carry the rejuvenation to a climax.

"Don't let him get too young," she wrote in one, "or Merry won't care for him. She always feels more at home with older men."

In another, accepting Huntington's invitation, she added: "Your suggestion is particularly fortunate as it will give Merry a chance to see Philip Hamlen under ideal conditions."

There was no escape. Mrs. Thatcher still assumed that he was as eager to bring about the match as she herself, and with woman's pertinacity presented the matter to him in such a way that he was forced to act as her ally whether he chose to do so or not. He had no restitution to make to his classmate, he stoutly assured himself, and because a charming woman felt a moral obligation to bring about "poetic justice" there was no reason why he should be stampeded into aiding and abetting a scheme of which he thoroughly disapproved. Huntington reasoned it out logically and conclusively, arrived at a definite determination to have no part in it, and then did the one thing which Mrs. Thatcher most desired by inviting them all to his home. Such is the innate inconsistency of man when he attempts to defeat the plans of a clever woman who always has her way!

Yet, curiously enough, Huntington believed that he was acting on his own initiative, and that this plot of his to have the girl near by, where he could again enjoy her companionship without betraying how much she had become to him, was a triumph of diplomatic genius. He even dreaded lest a refusal of his hospitality should defeat his carefully-laid plans, never realizing that the idea itself had come through the most delicate psychological suggestion between the lines of a letter which touched on every subject but the one in point. Such is the inevitable climax of man's originality when his plans include feminine co-operation!

Hamlen did not again refer to the matter on which he had sought advice until Huntington told him that the Thatchers were to arrive. Then his manner took on that phase which his host knew well, and the old apprehensiveness returned. The change was so noticeable that it could not be passed by without comment.

"Don't you want to see them?" Huntington demanded flatly. "You act as if their coming really frightened you."

"It does," Hamlen admitted frankly.

"Why should it?"

Huntington had come closely enough to him now to speak pointedly, and Hamlen seemed grateful for it. He wanted to be treated like other men, even though at times the new experience hurt; and his friend more and more took him at his word. "Why should it?" Huntington repeated.

"Because I can't trust myself yet. All is going so well that I fear something may happen to cause a setback."

"Nonsense! The old dread of meeting people hasn't worn off yet, but you are making splendid strides. I shall be proud to have Mrs. Thatcher see you as you are now."

"I am not myself when I am with her," Hamlen insisted, avoiding his friend's eyes as he spoke.

"If you prefer, I'll put you up at the Club while they're here."

"I should prefer it; but I think I had better fight it out while I have you near at hand to help me."

There was a new note of determination in his voice, but the dread was still there. "I do not want to marry Miss Thatcher, Huntington," he said slowly, with emphasis on every word; "yet unless you help me I shall do it. I cannot resist Mrs. Thatcher if she is determined to accomplish this. You spoke of logic and judgment when we talked of it before, but these are not enough. Marian is a wonderful woman. She believes that this marriage will be for our happiness, but I tell you, Huntington, it would be a tragedy for us both. I have never had but one woman in my heart, and any effort to dethrone that image would produce a condition for which I cannot hold myself responsible. That is what I fear, and you must help me."

"Of course I'll help you, my dear fellow," Huntington reassured him, "but are you not exaggerating Mrs. Thatcher's attitude? I can't believe that she will proceed further when she knows how you really feel."

Hamlen shook his head. "You have heard of men who lost their reason by being accidentally locked in a tomb overnight--think what it has meant to me to live with the specters of the dead for twenty years! As I look back, I wonder that I've held together at all! I'm not rational even now,--I know that; but I'm improving every day. What you have looked upon as an obsession, an eccentricity, has been a condition over which I have had no control, but through you I have been able to partially extricate myself. Mrs. Thatcher stirred the dead embers when she found me in Bermuda, and beneath them lay the smoldering flames which had slowly consumed my life. That I was able to hold them in check there gave me courage to accept your point of view, and I know that I have gained strength during these weeks I have spent with you."

"You are stronger in every way," Huntington said with decision. "If you were able to hold yourself in check then, you should now feel doubly safe."

"Perhaps," Hamlen admitted doubtfully; "that is why I don't follow my strong impulse to let you put me up at the Club. I want to test myself still further. Whenever Marian Thatcher's name is mentioned I feel such a confusion of emotions that I realize how far I am yet from being my own master. I must either conquer or else return to the old life."

"I'll stand by you--of course I will!" Huntington laughed, hoping to lessen Hamlen's apprehension by treating the subject lightly. "Keep the specters of the past back among the dead where they belong; don't let them stalk in your present in which you are just beginning to find what life really is. Mrs. Thatcher is a beautiful woman of flesh and blood and not an avenging Nemesis!"

"My God, Huntington! can't I make even you understand!" Hamlen cried out. "It is the fact that Marian Seymour is a beautiful woman of flesh and blood that the specter stalks! You who have never loved can't sympathize as I do with the aboriginal man who struck down whomever stood between himself and the woman he wanted, and carried his prize bodily to his cave. I boasted that these twenty years had given me opportunity for super-intellectual development, but instead I find myself controlled by almost primeval instincts. My respect for law is weakened, my regard for the rights of others seems stultified. This woman has been mine since we were boy and girl together, Huntington, and I want my woman! Before she broke the engagement my domination was too complete, for it made her fear me; when we met twenty years later it was she who dominated. Now, as I am coming back to myself, I feel my former power returning, and I know that if I chose I could compel a subservience of her will to mine. That is what I dread, for my exile has destroyed my sense of proportion. If I do not exercise my own strength then I must let her will be supreme, and that means that I shall marry the girl while I worship the mother.--Don't belittle my fearfulness, Huntington; it is a real thing to be reckoned with."

"Whether real or not," Huntington said kindly, "the fact that you think it so is enough. I shall not advise you nor urge you to do anything except what you yourself think wise, and so far as I can, whenever or wherever you wish it, I will help you."

This discussion left a deep impression upon Huntington. He had never looked upon Hamlen as a man of force, but rather as a visionary of nervous tenseness; yet this outburst showed a strength which would have carried his classmate far had it been properly directed. In spite of his present activities Huntington could see that Hamlen still lived much in his past,--the unconscious return to Mrs. Thatcher's girlhood name was evidence of that, his reference to the ghostly companions of his Bermuda life was equally convincing. What puzzled him was Hamlen's conviction that Mrs. Thatcher was determined to compel the suggested alliance against his will. This Huntington could not believe. She had expressly stated to him that it was only an idea to be acted upon in case it proved wise. Had Hamlen shown an interest in Merry, then undoubtedly Marian's influence would be exercised in his behalf; but surely a mother's heart would not be insistent in so serious a crisis! In this at least Hamlen's apprehensions carried him too far.

The opportunity to satisfy himself came to Huntington the day after his guests arrived. They had motored down the North Shore and back to the Club for lunch on a bright Sunday morning which seemed prepared especially to show Boston's environs off to best advantage; and as they strolled about the Club grounds he found himself paired off with Mrs. Thatcher.

The evening before had developed nothing of any moment. The two boys rushed in after dinner, completely monopolized the situation for such time as they were present, and then dashed off to keep a college engagement. Things were too "thick," Billy explained to Merry, to have a real visit. Thatcher seemed worn out and asked the indulgence of his host to permit his early retiring; Mrs. Thatcher was happy and complacent, rejoicing in the change she found in Hamlen and grateful to her ally for having brought it about; Merry appeared strangely quiet, but even if her presence had been wholly silent it would have seemed a benediction to Huntington, whose sentiments no one suspected, and on whom all depended for the expression of their individual purposes. Huntington smiled grimly to himself as he recalled Hamlen's matter-of-fact assumption that love had never entered into his life; he even questioned whether his friend's self-imposed restraint was more difficult than the repression of his own emotion!

After luncheon they walked out onto the golf links, Huntington and Marian finding a retreat in one of the thatched-roof shelters from which they could command an extended view on all sides. Thatcher and Hamlen had fallen behind, following Merry, who was eager to secure a better idea of the earlier holes in the course. Marian seated herself and then looked up into Huntington's face with an expression of complete satisfaction.

"It is simply wonderful!" she exclaimed.

"It is a fine course--"

"I'm not thinking of the course," she interrupted. "What you have done with Philip Hamlen is simply wonderful!"

"You must give your boy his share of the credit; his influence over Hamlen is no less than mine."

"I am glad my son could do something toward paying his mother's debt," she replied feelingly. "Now if you and I can complete the work I shall feel that restitution has been amply made."

"You refer to your daughter?"

"Yes; if I can see Merry married to Philip Hamlen I shall be blissfully content."

Huntington did not reply at once. He must be fair to this woman of whose determination he could now have no doubt; he must be fair to Hamlen, but above all he must be fair to the girl herself. Could he assume any position of impartiality? Would not each word really be a cry from his own heart, not against Hamlen but against any one who should create a barrier between himself and her? But Hamlen had besought his aid, so after all a responsibility existed, not of his making, which could not be shirked. He would meet the issue squarely with special care to eliminate himself.

"I regret to say that I cannot sympathize with that plan," he said deliberately.

Mrs. Thatcher looked at him in complete surprise. "I thought we agreed--"

"I have had greater opportunity to study Hamlen since we last talked."

She was genuinely distressed by Huntington's attitude. "I have set my heart upon it," she said firmly. "Through me his life was wrecked; it would be only justice if I helped him to find his happiness."

At that moment Huntington wondered how Marian Seymour could ever have attracted him. He had told Hamlen that the alchemy of a woman's heart was past his comprehension, but he had believed that mothers' hearts were all the same. He knew that Mrs. Thatcher was devoted to her daughter, yet her insistence appeared to him inexplicable and reprehensible. Had his companion been a man he would have told him so; under the present circumstances he spoke more guardedly.

"Being friends and allies, we should be frank in expressing our conviction," he explained; "this must excuse my otherwise unwarranted objections."

"You know Merry now. Don't you agree with me that her interest is in men older than herself?"

"Has she been consulted?"

Mrs. Thatcher flushed. "No," she answered; "I shall not speak to her until Philip Hamlen has been persuaded."

"You think she will acquiesce?"

"I am sure of it. She may not understand at first, but I am certain that she will feel as I do. Who could fail to see that he would be an ideal husband for her?"

"What would your life have been if you had married Hamlen?"

"But he has changed,--he has learned much from his experience."

"He is still, and always will be an abnormal personality," Huntington insisted. "Marriage, in my opinion, has no place in his life, and no woman could possibly endure his eccentricities. He can still find much to interest him among men, but I beg of you not to pursue an experiment which contains so many elements of danger."

"You put it strongly, Mr. Huntington."

"I feel it strongly; that must be my excuse."

Mrs. Thatcher was visibly affected. It was several moments before she spoke, and Huntington could see that she resented his attitude.

"You look at it wholly from a man's standpoint," she protested. "No one with Philip Hamlen's temperament can find the life he craves in companionship with men alone. Of course I respect your convictions, but you in turn must respect mine. I am so sure I am right that I cannot abandon the hope I have so long cherished. It will be more difficult of accomplishment without you, but if necessary I must carry it through alone."

"Forgive me, Mrs. Thatcher,--but are you not thinking of him and of your obligation more than of your daughter?"

"You surely don't think I would force Merry against her will!"

"Sometimes we leave one a free moral agent," Huntington said pointedly, "and at the same time bind him with chains stronger than iron by expression of our own desires."

The approach of Hamlen and Merry brought the unsatisfactory discussion to a forced conclusion, and Huntington rejoiced that it saved him from further expostulations. Thatcher had returned to the club-house to telephone, leaving Hamlen and Merry by themselves. Hamlen responded to Merry's spontaneous vivacity, and both were in the best of spirits as they walked toward the shelter. He was heavier now and it became him. The sallowness had left his face and a slight color appeared in his cheeks. The girl beside him, as always when enthusiastic, radiated happiness. Her companion could scarcely keep up with her as she half walked half ran up the slight incline.

"Look at them!" Mrs. Thatcher exclaimed, turning to Huntington. "Who are you to tell me I am wrong!"

Huntington was spared the necessity of reply for Merry had reached them. Mrs. Thatcher rose and strolled away by herself to relieve her overwrought feelings.

"Oh, for a golf-skirt and a bag of clubs!" the girl cried. "When may I play this adorable course?"

"To-morrow morning," Huntington replied promptly, "if my guests permit me to provide them with other entertainment. After to-morrow I must give you up to those most exalted of personages, the Seniors."

"I'd love to play this course," Merry said gratefully,--"but you're going over for Class Day, aren't you?"

"Yes; but we old grads don't count as against the Seniors. They are the heroes and we bend the knee. On Thursday we shall walk respectfully up to the graduating class, bow politely, and say, 'We who are about to die, salute you'!"

Merry laughed gaily. "Then, the next day, these heroes jump down off their pedestals, walk respectfully up to the old grads, bow politely, and say, 'Please give us a job'!"

"Don't be an iconoclast, Miss Merry," Huntington retorted. "These boys may be looking for jobs, but they are richer than any of us: they have youth, and life is before them."

"Grandpa!" the girl laughed mischievously.

"I sha'n't let you call me that!" he cried, really piqued.

"Then don't be so unfair to yourself!" she retaliated; "you are the youngest 'old' man I ever met!"

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