Patricia (19 page)

Only down in the sheltered little path between the hemlocks and the hedge, where somehow his presence seemed to linger, she could go sometimes at night and stop and touch the faithful green leaves he had planted. Looking up to the stars, she would pray for her Lord to bless him and keep him safely.

And then one day Thorny came riding into her life again.

Patricia was sitting in the hammock on the side porch reading when he came cantering showily up the drive on his lovely bay horse. Stopping under the porte-cochere, he flung himself off with skillful grace, looking his handsomest in expensive riding togs.

Patricia looked up from her book when she heard the horse coming, and for the first minute she didn't know him at all, he seemed so grown up and mature, so altogether a finished man of the world, though with a jaded look about his eyes, as if he had gone far and seen much.

She had risen quickly and was studying him as he caught sight of her before he was quite up the steps. Then his face beamed into recognition.

“Oh, hello, Patty, old friend!” he exclaimed graciously and sprang up the remaining steps to greet her. “Say! You certainly have changed a lot, Pat, haven't you? I had no idea you would ever be as beautiful as you are. Why, you're rare! You're
mar
velous! Say! You take my breath away!” And he suddenly came nearer and took both her hands in a close grasp, looking down at her in sudden admiration, as if unexpectedly he had come upon a jewel of great price. Dramatically, with his characteristic quick reaching out for whatever pleased him, he took possession of her as if it were his right.

“Why, Patty, you are precious!”

Patricia, at his voice, quickly recovered from her astonishment and, smiling, drew her hands away from his insistent grasp.

“Oh, hello. Thorny!” she said with easy friendliness, which was by no means too cordial. “What a surprise! I didn't know you were in this country. And I didn't know you rode. When did you take that up?”

“Oh, I've been abroad for the most part of the past year. Been specializing in horses, polo, racing, and so forth. I just ran home for a few weeks to rest up a little and look into the possibilities over here. Of course, I shall be in college somewhere this fall, either here or abroad again, but the main thing is my polo, which college will give me the best offer.”

Patricia watched him curiously. So this was what Thorny had become, a horseman, specializing in polo at present.

But there was a new kind of poise, almost dignity, about him. Was it real? She hardly knew how to take him. The indignities that he had put upon her in the past were still sharp memories that stifled any impulse she had to be friendly, so she turned her eyes to the spirited horse that stood with fiery eye champing his bit and stamping a dainty foot on the hard drive.

“That's a beautiful horse you have,” she remarked, turning the subject from his own personal career.

Thorny's eyes lit up with satisfaction.

“Yes,” he said coolly, “I'm rather proud of him. I got him in England. Pedigreed, of course.” He launched into a brief detailed account of his horse's ancestry.

Patricia listened politely and knew her mother would think she ought to ask him to sit down. She didn't want to, she was deeply interested in her book, yet she knew she must.

Perhaps he saw her indifference, for he brought his discourse to an abrupt close and, looking at her again with that amazed smile, remarked almost irrelevantly, “My, but you are lovely! And by the way, I understand you are a great horsewoman. When I heard that, I came right over, for I thought we would at last have something in common. I understand you have a wonderful horse.”

Patricia smiled.

“I enjoy my horse,” she said pleasantly.

“I thought so,” said Thorny dramatically. “Then we shall have some wonderful rides together.”

“Why, I usually ride with my father,” she said coolly.

“Never alone?” he asked with lifted meaningful brows.

“Oh yes, alone sometimes. But then I am
alone
, not with anyone,” she laughed.

“Ah! But you and I will ride together!” he announced as if it were a decree gone forth. “Now that I have found you again as it were, I am not sure but I shall linger longer than the few days I had planned.”

“Well, I'm rather busy this summer doing some extra studying.”

“How about
now
? Go get ready, and I'll bring your horse. He's in the old stable, is he?”

“No, I could not go now. I have something else to do.”

“Then how about tomorrow morning?”

“No,” said Patricia decidedly, “I have other plans. Excuse me a minute and I will call Mother. She used to be a great friend of yours, and she would not like to miss your call.” And suddenly Patricia slipped inside the screen door and upstairs.

Mrs. Prentiss came down at once all smiles, but Patricia did not return for some minutes, and when she came she was very cool. But somehow this only made Thorny more eager to gain her attention.

Of course Patricia had known that to call her mother into the matter would mean a return of some of the persecution she had suffered when she was younger, but at least, she reasoned, the conversation would not be too intimate. However, she had not been seated again three minutes on the porch before she realized that it had been a mistake to call her mother down. Of course, sooner or later she would have found out that Thorny was at home, but she might have managed to delay the knowledge for a day or two.

For Mrs. Prentiss sailed right in as if her daughter were still a small child, and said how nice it was that Thorny was at home and how wonderful that he rode and what a relief it would be to feel there was some competent person to go riding with “dear little Patty.”

Patricia's heart grew heavy as her mother enlarged upon the subject and she saw herself in bondage once more. Then she remembered that she had a refuge, and silently her heart cried out to God to help her with this situation.

That was the beginning of Thorny's constant attention. Patricia was so filled with the horror of the past that she could not imagine it possible for her to endure riding alone with Thorny, so she got her father to promise to go out with them some mornings, and he did.

“He's not so bad, Pat,” he said when they came back. “Just a dumb bunny that likes to show off. But I'm game to go with you whenever you say.”

So Patricia rode less and less that summer, and almost always her father was along. Though she did have to own that Thorny was not as bad as she had feared. Thorny was finding out that here was a girl who could not be won by flattery, nor cave-man stuff. He must take her seriously. And so he set about being serious, though there wasn't a serious fiber in his whole being. He succeeded, however, only in making her feel that he was a bore.

Patricia was glad when it was time for her to return to college, because she was weary of Thorny's constant attendance wherever she went and her mother's happy purr over the state of things.

Not that she hated Thorny now the way she used to do when she was a child. He seemed to have given up his tormenting ways and love of cruel teasing, though she sometimes suspected him of acting a part, because he had never before let any girl snub him.

As for Thorny, he was really exerting himself now to be courteous and to make his attentions so unobtrusively necessary to her well-being that she would fall into the habit of getting used to him. And then,
then
, he reasoned, when she once was his, he could bend her as he wished.

So Patricia went back to college and another year began.

But Thorny had ways of being extremely attentive even at a distance. He was getting a name for himself in the polo world, getting his handsome picture and his name in the papers. He wrote to her constantly, though her replies were few and far between. She told him that she was studying hard and intimated that it was time he did so also. Yet still he went on with his career, bombarding her constantly with photographs, both portraits and snapshots, and begging for one of her. To this request she made no reply except that she had no time to have her picture taken. And then, of course, he begged one from her mother. It really was of no use to try to get rid of him. She just must settle down to the fact that he would stick whether she wanted him or not. More and more she let his letters go unanswered for long periods. Only when he sent big boxes of roses and orchids and other lovely flowers, or enormous boxes of expensive candy, she felt she had to reply, and then she made her notes most brief and cool, and often gave the flowers and candy away to her fellow students.

But the winter passed, and the summer came. Patricia had accepted the fact of Thorny's inevitability with a kind of apathy. She didn't enjoy his presence, neither did she ever miss him. He never gave her a chance. When she was at home, he was always there. Always on hand to take her anywhere that she had to go. He had become a habit. He was taking it very much for granted that he was wanted. He never asked if he might go, he went. And any other admirer she might have had must stand by and let him have all privileges, for he took them anyway. Well, Patricia had no admirers that she cared anything about, so what did it matter? There were pleasant young men who called sometimes, but inevitably Thorny was always there also, and whatever visiting they had to do must be done under the shadow of his presence.

Patricia was tired. She didn't tell anybody, but she was fearfully tired of it all, this espionage by Thorny. Her father saw it and tried to help. He took time off from his business and went with her everywhere, until his wife called him to account for it.

“Don't you realize what you are doing, Mr. Prentiss? Don't you know that those two young things don't want you along all the time? Don't you see that you are giving them no chance at all for courting?”

“Courting!” roared Patricia's father. “Why should they want to court? You don't suppose that our Pat is going to take up with that poor schmuck after all these years of hating him?”

“Now, George, don't be silly! Don't you know that the strongest love often begins with great dislike? Look at us. I never disliked anybody so much in my life as you when I first met you. I thought you were the homeliest man I'd ever laid eyes on!”

Her husband looked at her with keen, tired eyes.

“And you think our love is that kind, do you? The strongest kind there is?” His honest eyes pierced her fussy little soul. She got a little red and fidgeted around, and then answered:

“Well, George, I supposed you thought it was.”

For answer her husband watched her silently a minute and then said with a deep sigh, “All right, Amelia, you win! I'm sure I don't know anything about it, only I intend to go wherever Pat wants me.”

“What makes you so sure she wants you?” asked Amelia in a superior tone.

“What? Well, because I am, that's all.”

But sometimes when Patricia got very tired of it all she used to think back to the young boy in high school and wonder if she would ever see him again. He was a grown man now, and he probably had other interests. Very likely he had forgotten that he had promised to come back. And if he came he might not seem the same to her as long ago. Oh, life was hard, and it seemed to grow more complicated as one grew older.

But she went back to college again and worked faithfully.

That winter Thorny came to the college to see her several times. Just brief visits he made, took her down to a wonderful concert in the nearby city. Took her to dinner at a famous restaurant. Never urged her when she declined to go to a nightclub. He was biding his time.

And all the time she was just suffering him, neither liking him nor entirely disliking him as the days went on, and he seemed to be fairly trustworthy and devoted. Yet no more than in the days gone by did she want his devotion. There was not anybody—now that the vision of John Worth was fading and growing so dreamlike and impossible to her mature mind—not anybody she wanted to have devoted to her.

And then commencement came on swiftly, and now and then when she had time she wondered vaguely what she was going to do with herself when college was over and she was supposed to begin her life.

Her mother's idea, of course, was that she should have a lavish party and be presented to society. She had spoken of her plans and ideas about that several times. She had also suggested that they go abroad and Patricia be presented at court. But Patricia didn't want all that. It might be interesting, perhaps, to meet a king and queen, but what was that to being presented to the King of heaven some day when all this mixed-up, disappointing life was over? And she was twice as interested in the little prayer meetings they were having regularly at college, or in gathering in a shy new soul now and then who was troubled about life and death that might be lurking along the way, than she was in planning a marvelous wardrobe for her debut.

The commencement came at last, and all the hard work was done. But when she herself stood up for the very honorable part she had in the program of the day, in spite of herself she lifted wistful eyes to the far corner of the big auditorium back under the gallery, much like the old high school gathering place, to see if there were quiet brown eyes with lamps behind them watching her.