The Two Saplings. Mazo de la Roche
just look at my husband and you will see those characteristics in the grown-up man.”
Obediently the Rendels raised their eyes from the portraits and looked at Robert. He sat looking heavily back at them, his hands clasped on his stomach.
“Let’s see the miniature.” Captain Rendel stretched out his hand and made the exchange with his wife. There was a prolonged silence in the room. Then he said:
“If it weren’t for the clothes and the haircut, Mark might have sat for the pictures. It’s a strange coincidence that you should have had them with you.”
“It’s beyond coincidence,” exclaimed Camilla. “Surely something completely outside our will brought us four—us six—together! The whole thing is predestined. We’ve just got to let ourselves be swept along.”
Phyllis laid the photograph on the table.
“There is nothing in all this,” she said. “What can you prove by a chance resemblance? And what do you want to prove? Do you want to take my boy from me and ask me to accept yours in return? Have you no love for him?”
Camilla answered fiercely,—“I love him so much that I must know the truth for his sake. Nothing else will do. I have to be perfectly selfless in this, no matter what I suffer. And I can see that Captain Rendel feels the same.”
He returned,—“You spoke of some other proof, Mrs. Wylde. What was that?”
“It was instinct, nothing more. But it was an animal instinct and I guess that’s as true as anything there is. When the baby was two days old—I remember the exact day because it was foggy outside and Robert had sent us glowing crimson roses—the nurse brought baby to me to be nursed. When she put him into my arms and I cuddled him a queer feeling of strangeness came over me, as though he were not my baby at all. It lasted just a moment and then I forgot all about it. But last night when I lay tossing and couldn’t get a wink of sleep, till I took a dose of my sedative, the sensation came over me again. I was back in the hospital with the feeling that I had a strange baby in my arms.” She sank back against her silver-fox cape, looking pale and exhausted.
Captain Rendel said,—“That is very interesting. I think the best thing for us to do is for your husband and me to go to the nursing home and try to find the nurse who was in charge of the infants on that day. She would probably lie. But on the other hand she might give us some help.” He turned to Robert Wylde. “What do you say?”
“All right,” said Robert heavily. “If the ladies think we’d better. What do you think, Mrs. Rendel?”
“It’s out of my hands.” She spoke abruptly. “Go if you wish.”
“I think,” said Camilla, “you’re absolutely right. I think you ought to go at once.”
Robert got himself out of his chair. “Do you remember the name of the nurse who bathed the youngsters?” he asked.
“Her name was Nurse Jennings. I remember because we had a maid of the same name at the time.” She turned to Phyllis Rendel. “Wasn’t Jennings her name?”
“I don’t remember. Yes—I believe it was.” She turned to her husband. “I think I shall go home. You can tell me afterward what happens.”
“Oh, please stay with me!” Camilla went impulsively to her and took her hand. “The time won’t seem nearly so long if we are together. Besides, you must be here when they come back. We can’t do anything without you.”
“Yes, Phyllis, I think you should stay here. If Mr. Wylde and I are to be away too long I shall ring you up.” He rose quickly and took up his hat and stick.
The two women were alone. Phyllis Rendel sat with her back to the light, her hands clenched in her lap. Anger surged in her because of what had been done to her in these spring days when she should have been happy returning home after a visit to Italy. Left alone with her, Camilla felt shy and wondered what she could find to say to her. Her support and her background seemed to have gone with the two men. She bore the silence as long as she could and then said:
“Don’t let’s talk about this awful thing. Let’s clear our minds if we can and talk of what’s left undisturbed in our lives . . . Will you tell me what other children you have?”
“You’re leaving me them, are you?” said Phyllis bitterly.
“Oh, Mrs. Rendel, don’t feel like that! I can’t bear you to think that I’d wilfully harm you. It is just the sense of horrible uncertainty that drives me on. It’s the sense of living in a fog. Even a stern wild mountain-top is better than that, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” She put her hands to her temples, then took off her brown felt hat and laid it on the floor beside her chair. “My head aches so,” she said.
Camilla looked at her sitting there, in her well-cut tweed coat and skirt, her feet planted side by side. She saw her run her hands through her fair curling hair and, before she could stop herself, she said:
“Palmer’s hair curls too. All the rest of us have such straight hair.”
The other seemed not to hear. Again she pressed her fingers to her temples. Camilla sprang up.
“I’m going to get you an aspirin,” she said.
Left alone, Phyllis Rendel softly beat on the arm of her chair with her clenched hand. Her eyes had a dazed look. When the aspirin tablet was brought she took it meekly.
“Won’t you lie down on the chesterfield for a while? Aspirins always work better if you rest.” If she could get Phyllis to rest, she herself might relax till the men came back.
The door opened and Palmer put in his head.
“Hey, Mom, when are we going to eat?”
“Come in, darling, and speak to Mrs. Rendel. You remember meeting her yesterday.”
“Yep,” said Palmer. He came in confidently and smiled at Phyllis. “Why didn’t you bring Mark with you?”
Her eyes searched his face. “Mark has gone to the Zoo.”
“To the Zoo! Gosh, why can’t I go to the Zoo! Tell me where it is, Mrs. Rendel, and I’ll start out right now. Give me some money, Mom, so I can start out for the Zoo.”
“Palmer,” said Camilla, “you cannot go to the Zoo alone.”
“What’s to hinder me? I’m not scared, am I? How long is it since Mark started for the Zoo, Mrs. Rendel?”
“Oh, some time ago. You see, we’re staying near Regent’s Park, so Mark walks there.”
“What bus should I take?”
“Palmer,” said Camilla, “go down to the dining-room and get yourself some lunch. Then, when your father comes back, perhaps he’ll take you.”
“Oh, yeah! I know how it will be. He’ll keep me waiting till we’ll just have time to see owls before the Zoo closes.” He thrust his hand in his pocket and drew out a handful of silver. “I guess I’ve got enough,” he said. “But if I had a little more I’d take a taxi. I’d get there quicker and I’d be safer.”
Camilla rose, found a ten-shilling note and gave it to him. She straightened his tie and kissed him. “Hadn’t you better have lunch before you go?”
“I guess I can get a hot-dog there or a Chelsea bun or a plum pudding, or something. Anyways I’m not hungry, now I know I’m starting for the Zoo.”
“You are to take a taxi,” said Camilla, “and be back here by five o’clock.”
He was gone. Camilla waited for Phyllis to say something. Then, as Phyllis did not speak, she asked:
“Well—did you see?”
“I saw nothing unusual,” answered Phyllis coldly. Camilla gave an impatient sigh. Phyllis stared down