Lucy Montgomery - The Blue Castle

"When he sent me to a private school - I was only eleven - the boys ducked me in the swimming-tank until I stood on a table and read aloud all the advertisements of Father's patent abominations. I did it - then" - Barney clinched his fists - "I was frightened and half drowned and all my world was against me. But when I went to college and the sophs tried the same stunt I didn't do it." Barney smiled grimly. "They couldn't make me do it. But they could - and did - make my life miserable. I never heard the last of the Pills and the Bitters and the Hair Tonic. 'After using' was my nickname - you see I'd always such a thick thatch. My four college years were a nightmare. You know - or you don't know - what merciless beasts boys can be when they get a victim like me. I had few friends - there was always some barrier between me and the kind of people I cared for. And the other kind - who would have been very willing to be intimate with rich old Doc. Redfern's son - I didn't care for. But I had one friend - or thought I had. A clever, bookish chap - a bit of a writer. That was a bond between us - I had some secret aspirations along that line. He was older than I was - I looked up to him and worshipped him. For a year I was happier than I'd ever been. Then - a burlesque sketch came out in the college magazine - a mordant thing, ridiculing Dad's remedies. The names were changed, of course, but everybody knew what and who was meant. Oh, it was clever - damnably so - and witty. McGill rocked with laughter over it. I found out HE had written it."

"Oh, were you sure?" Valancy's dull eyes flamed with indignation.

"Yes. He admitted it when I asked him. Said a good idea was worth more to him than a friend, any time. And he added a gratuitous thrust. 'You know, Redfern, there are some things money won't buy. For instance - it won't buy you a grandfather.' Well, it was a nasty slam. I was young enough to feel cut up. And it destroyed a lot of my ideals and illusions, which was the worst thing about it. I was a young misanthrope after that. Didn't want to be friends with any one. And then - the year after I left college - I met Ethel Traverse."

Valancy shivered. Barney, his hands stuck in his pockets, was regarding the floor moodily and didn't notice it.

"Dad told you about her, I suppose. She was very beautiful. And I loved her. Oh, yes, I loved her. I won't deny it or belittle it now. It was a lonely, romantic boy's first passionate love, and it was very real. And I thought she loved me. I was fool enough to think that. I was wildly happy when she promised to marry me. For a few months. Then - I found out she didn't. I was an involuntary eavesdropper on a certain occasion for a moment. That moment was enough. The proverbial fate of the eavesdropper overtook me. A girl friend of hers was asking her how she could stomach Doc. Redfern's son and the patent-medicine background.

"'His money will gild the Pills and sweeten the Bitters,' said Ethel, with a laugh. 'Mother told me to catch him if I could. We're on the rocks. But pah! I smell turpentine whenever he comes near me.'"

"Oh, Barney!" cried Valancy, wrung with pity for him. She had forgotten all about herself and was filled with compassion for Barney and rage against Ethel Traverse. How dared she?

"Well," - Barney got up and began pacing round the room - "that finished me. Completely. I left civilisation and those accursed dopes behind me and went to the Yukon. For five years I knocked about the world - in all sorts of outlandish places. I earned enough to live on - I wouldn't touch a cent of Dad's money. Then one day I woke up to the fact that I no longer cared a hang about Ethel, one way or another. She was somebody I'd known in another world - that was all. But I had no hankering to go back to the old life. None of that for me. I was free and I meant to keep so. I came to Mistawis - saw Tom MacMurray's island. My first book had been published the year before, and made a hit - I had a bit of money from my royalties. I bought my island. But I kept away from people. I had no faith in anybody. I didn't believe there was such a thing as real friendship or true love in the world - not for me, anyhow - the son of Purple Pills. I used to revel in all the wild yarns they told of me. In fact, I'm afraid I suggested a few of them myself. By mysterious remarks which people interpreted in the light of their own prepossessions.

"Then - you came. I HAD to believe you loved me - really loved ME - not my father's millions. There was no other reason why you should want to marry a penniless devil with my supposed record. And I was sorry for you. Oh, yes, I don't deny I married you because I was sorry for you. And then - I found you the best and jolliest and dearest little pal and chum a fellow ever had. Witty - loyal - sweet. You made me believe again in the reality of friendship and love. The world seemed good again just because you were in it, honey. I'd have been willing to go on forever just as we were. I knew that, the night I came home and saw my homelight shining out from the island for the first time. And knew you were there waiting for me. After being homeless all my life it was beautiful to have a home. To come home hungry at night and know there was a good supper and a cheery fire - and YOU.

"But I didn't realise what you actually meant to me till that moment at the switch. Then it came like a lightning flash. I knew I couldn't live without you - that if I couldn't pull you loose in time I'd have to die with you. I admit it bowled me over - knocked me silly. I couldn't get my bearings for a while. That's why I acted like a mule. But the thought that drove me to the tall timber was the awful one that you were going to die. I'd always hated the thought of it - but I supposed there wasn't any chance for you, so I put it out of my mind. Now I had to face it - you were under sentence of death and I couldn't live without you. When I came home last night I had made up my mind that I'd take you to all the specialists in the world - that something surely could be done for you. I felt sure you couldn't be as bad as Dr. Trent thought, when those moments on the track hadn't even hurt you. And I found your note - and went mad with happiness - and a little terror for fear you didn't care much for me, after all, and had gone away to get rid of me. But now, it's all right, isn't it, darling?"

Was she, Valancy being called "darling"?

"I can't believe you care for me," she said helplessly. "I KNOW you can't. What's the use, Barney? Of course, you're sorry for me - of course you want to do the best you can to straighten out the mess. But it can't be straightened out that way. You couldn't love me - me." She stood up and pointed tragically to the mirror over the mantel. Certainly, not even Allan Tierney could have seen beauty in the woeful, haggard little face reflected there.

Barney didn't look at the mirror. He looked at Valancy as if he would like to snatch her - or beat her.

"Love you! Girl, you're in the very core of my heart. I hold you there like a jewel. Didn't I promise you I'd never tell you a lie? Love you! I love you with all there is of me to love. Heart, soul, brain. Every fibre of body and spirit thrilling to the sweetness of you. There's nobody in the world for me but you, Valancy."

"You're - a good actor, Barney," said Valancy, with a wan little smile.

Barney looked at her.

"So you don't believe me - yet?"

"I - can't."

"Oh - damn!" said Barney violently.

Valancy looked up startled. She had never seen THIS Barney. Scowling! Eyes black with anger. Sneering lips. Dead-white face.

"You don't want to believe it," said Barney in the silk-smooth voice of ultimate rage. "You're tired of me. You want to get out of it - free from me. You're ashamed of the Pills and the Liniment, just as she was. Your Stirling pride can't stomach them. It was all right as long as you thought you hadn't long to live. A good lark - you could put up with me. But a lifetime with old Doc Redfern's son is a different thing. Oh, I understand - perfectly. I've been very dense - but I understand, at last."