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Page 79
"Just one word--'_Come_.'"
"Lloyd, be serious. This is no joke."
"Joke!" she repeated hollowly. "It is, indeed, a sorry joke. Ah! had I
but loved with a girlish love, it would have been better for me."
Then suddenly she caught him about the neck with both her arms, and
kissed him on the cheek and on the lips, a little quiver running through
her to her finger-tips, her mood changing abruptly to a deep, sweet
earnestness.
"Oh, Ward, Ward!" she cried, "all our unhappiness and all our sorrow and
trials and anxiety and cruel suspense are over now, and now we really
have each other and love each other, dear, and all the years to come are
only going to bring happiness to us, and draw us closer and nearer to
each other."
"But here's a point, Lloyd," said Bennett after a few moments and when
they had returned to coherent speech; "how about your work? You talk
about my career; what about yours? We are to be married, but I know just
how you have loved your work. It will be a hard wrench for you if you
give that up. I am not sure that I should ask it of you. This letter of
Street's, now. I know just how eager you must be to take charge of such
operations--such important cases as he mentions. It would be very
selfish of me to ask you to give up your work. It's your life-work, your
profession, your career."
Lloyd took up Dr. Street's letter, and, holding it delicately at arm's
length, tore it in two and let the pieces flutter to the floor.
"That, for my life-work," said Lloyd Searight.
As she drew back from him an instant later Bennett all at once and very
earnestly demanded:
"Lloyd, do you love me?"
"With all my heart, Ward."
"And you will be my wife?"
"You know that I will."
"Then"--Bennett picked up the little volume of "Arctic Research" which
he had received that morning, and tossed it from him upon the
floor--"that, for my career," he answered.
For a moment they were silent, looking gladly into each other's eyes.
Then Bennett drew her to him again and held her close to him, and once
more she put her arms around his neck and nestled her head down upon his
shoulder with a little comfortable sigh of contentment and relief and
quiet joy, for that the long, fierce trial was over; that there were no
more fights to be fought, no more grim, hard situations to face, no more
relentless duties to be done. She had endured and she had prevailed; now
her reward was come. Now for the long, calm years of happiness.
Later in the day, about an hour after noon, Bennett took his daily nap,
carefully wrapped in shawls and stretched out in a wicker steamer-chair
in the glass-room. Lloyd, in the meantime, was busy in the garden at the
side of the house, gathering flowers which she intended to put in a huge
china bowl in Bennett's room. While she was thus occupied Adler,
followed by Kamiska, came up. Adler pulled off his cap.
"I beg pardon, Miss," he began, turning his cap about between his
fingers. "I don't want to seem to intrude, and if I do I just guess
you'd better tell me so first off. But what did he say--or did he say
anything--the captain, I mean--this morning about going up again? I
heard you talking to him at breakfast. That's it, that's the kind of
talk he needs. I can't talk that talk to him. I'm so main scared of him.
I wouldn't 'a' believed the captain would ever say he'd give up, would
ever say he was beaten. But, Miss, I'm thinking as there's something
wrong, main wrong with the captain these days besides fever. He's
getting soft--that's what he is. If you'd only know the man that he
was--before--while we was up there in the Ice! That's his work, that's
what he's cut out for. There ain't nobody can do it but him, and to see
him quit, to see him chuck up his chance to a third-rate ice-pilot like
Duane--a coastwise college professor that don't know no more about Ice
than--than you do--it regularly makes me sick. Why, what will become of
the captain now if he quits? He'll just settle down to an ordinary
stay-at-home, write-in-a-book professor, and write articles for the
papers and magazines, and bye-and-bye, maybe, he'll get down to
lecturing! Just fancy, Miss, him, the captain, lecturing! And while he
stays at home and writes, and--oh, Lord!--lectures, somebody else,
without a fifth of his ability, will do the _work_. It'll just naturally
break my heart, it will!" exclaimed Adler, "if the captain chucks. I
wouldn't be so main sorry that he won't reach the Pole as that he quit
trying--as that a man like the captain--or like what I thought he
was--gave up and chucked when he could win."
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