Ronnie

“ Dad's voice was knife-sharp and December-cold. Ronnie slipped off the hassock as if struck physically by the fury of the voice. He sat sprawled on his small posterior, fresh fear etched on his thin features.
"Damn it, son, how could you even think of being a Reader? You've got a life-sized, 3-D video here, and we put on the smell and touch and heat attachments just for you. You can listen to any tape in the world at school. Ronnie, don't you realize I'd lose my job if people knew I had a Reader for a son?" ”

“ Both were now radiant in a sky-blue self-colour that transported one to the tropics, and certainly looked better than I thought it would when I had the trouble of procuring it.
In the bedroom the blue was only broken by some simple white furniture, by a row of books over the bed, and by groups of the little eleven in which Ronnie already had a place, and photographs of his father at one or two stages of his great career. I was still exploring when an eager summons brought me to the bedside.
"Let's play cricket!" cried Ronnie—"do you mind? With a pack of cards—my own invention! ”

“ Then, looking past the figure in the chair, he marked behind him, where in the reflection of the studio should have been the door, heavy black curtains hanging in sombre folds. And, even as Ronnie noticed these, they parted; and the lovely face of a woman looked in.
As Ronnie saw that face he remembered many things—things of exquisite joy, things of poignant sorrow; things inexpressible except in music, unutterable except in tone.
The 'cello sobbed, and wailed, and sang itself slowly into a minor theme; yet the passion of the minor was more subtle, sweeter far, than the triumph of the major. ”

“ Ronnie lay hot and dry in his bed, but brown and bright as he had looked upon the ice, and sizzling with the exuberance of a welcome that warmed my heart. He told me, of course, that it was "awful rot" losing the last day like this; but, on the other hand, he seemed delighted with his room—he always was delighted with something—and professed himself rather glad of an opportunity of appreciating it as it deserved. Indeed, there was not a lazy bone in his little body, and I doubt if he had spent an unnecessary minute in his bedroom all the holidays. ”

“ Ronnie plays high at the club, and also down at Balthasar’s.”
“Balthasar’s!” I echoed in dismay.
“Yes, fellows drive down there, dine, and play chemin de fer. On these occasions I’m afraid Ronnie tells you that he’s on guard, or dining at some mess. He is not our old Ronnie; no, he has come under some bad influence this last year. Don’t you notice how he has changed and aged, and that he’s not half as cheery as he used to be? He has become so terribly restless, and seems always in a condition of feverish excitement. ”

“ Ronnie was amused.
"Are you traveling back to town tonight, Ronnie?"
"No, Sir John. I leave in the morning."
Sir John wrinkled his brows in thought.
"You saw him? Did you ever see a man like him? I am bewildered and baffled. Poor Sault, and yet why 'poor'? Poor world, I think, to lose a soul as great as his."
"He is also a murderer," said Ronnie with gentle sarcasm. "He has brutally killed two men—"
"There is nothing brutal in Ambrose Sault," Sir John checked himself. ”

“ Oh, Ronnie, you will be so nearly home, by then! How shall I wait?"
"I shall love to feel I have something to do for you in Leipzig," said Ronnie; "and I enjoy poking about among crowds of queer instruments. I should like to have played in Nebuchadnezzar's band. I should have played the sackbut, because I haven't the faintest notion how you work the thing—whether you blow into it, or pull it in and out, or tread upon it; nor what manner of surprising sound it emits, when you do any or all of these things. I love springing surprises on myself and on other people ”

“ She saw Ronnie--Ronnie in wig-and-gown; Ronnie pleading her cause before the law.
Swiftly she passed under the archway. Swiftly, unconscious of one hurrying behind her, she made the tiled passage which leads to Pump Court. Ronnie--Ronnie would not plead for her. Ronnie, knowing the truth, would know her for what she was. For a woman who had belonged to two men. On such, man's law had no mercy. She could go no further--no further. Better the river! Better the river than man's law! ”

“ That's the kind of man I am. No nerves—look at my hand." He thrust out his heavy paw stiffly. "Steady as a rock, huh? Good boy, Sault!"
"I met him once—" began Ronnie.
"I've met him more than once," said the grim Steppe. "A man with strange compelling eyes, the only fellow that ever frightened me!" ”

“ Then poor Ronnie knew.
"I suppose he is a keeper," he said.
"Oh, no, darling! He is only a trained attendant; just a sort of valet for you. Such a nice man and so attentive. He brushes your clothes."
"I see," said Ronnie. "Valets are quite useful people. But they do not as a rule sit reading in the middle of the morning, on the next seat to their master and mistress! Do they? However, if Dick is coming to-morrow, we can discuss the valet question with him. Take my arm, Helen. I feel a bit shaky when I walk. ”

“ Getting ahold of Ronnie isn’t so easy. Every time he sees us coming he runs around the block or cuts across lots. We’re just so much poison to him and he figures, since his father’s laid down the law about our using the hill, that we’ll pretty near scalp him if we get the chance.
But one snowy day we get Ronnie from in front and behind. His arms are full of groceries which he wouldn’t have been getting himself only the delivery truck is stuck in a drift and his mother has to have the food for dinner.
“Let me go, you guys!” he begs. “If you dare touch me, my Dad’ll...!” ”

“ Ronnie raised his eyes and looked into the mirror.
He saw therein reflected, the 'cello and the Italian chair; but the figure of a man sat playing, and that man was not himself; that figure was not his own.
A grave, white face, set off by straight black hair, a heavy lock of which fell over the low forehead; long white fingers gliding up and down the strings, lace ruffles falling from the wrists. The knees, gripping the 'cello, were clad in black satin breeches, black silk stockings were on the shapely legs; while on the feet, planted firmly upon the floor, gleamed diamond shoe-buckles. ”

“ These emotions were all strange, sweet, disturbing. For the first time in her life a man obscured the entire mental horizon. Constantly she thought of Ronnie--imagining him her confidant, her friend, her lover. ”

“ Having hastily swallowed his tea, lest Blake should arrive at the studio to inquire what had been amiss with it, Ronnie hurried down the corridor, entered the long, low room, and turned on the electric light. As before, a great log fire burned on the hearth; but he needed more light now, than mere fitful fire-gleams. He wanted to examine the Infant.
He looked round the room, and there, on a wide settee under one of the windows, lay a polished rosewood 'cello-case.
Ronnie, springing forward, bent down eagerly. The key was in the lock. He turned it, and lifted the lid. ”

“ But then Ronnie always is a perfect infant himself, where new toys are concerned. You can hardly realise how much he has looked forward to showing you that 'cello. His behaviour also proved a decided tendency to self-absorption; but there the artistic temperament comes in, which always creates a world of its own in which it dwells content, often at the expense of duties and obligations connected with outer surroundings. We all know that this is Ronnie's principal failing. ”

“ Ronnie watched her. She came and softly stood behind the Florentine chair.
Apparently she made no sound. The 'cellist did not raise his eyes. He appeared totally unconscious of her presence.
The woman bent her beautiful head, observing him closely. Following her eyes, Ronnie saw a ruffle of old lace falling from the 'cellist's throat, a broad crimson ribbon crossing his breast, on which glittered a diamond star. ”

“ Ronnie has always been so popular, with his polo and rackets, quite a celebrity in his way, and inclined to be a bit extravagant. Then he went home last year and, apparently, got hold of a good sum of money. Well, I’m afraid from all I hear that he has come to the end of that now. The colonel has had hints of his debts and I am told is rather uneasy in his mind, and if something, or someone, does not interfere, Ronnie will find himself in hot water. I believe he has borrowed money from that fellow Balthasar. ”

“ Oh, Ronnie, I implore you to take me into your confidence. What has happened?”
“The family curse has overtaken me—that’s all.”
“Gambling?”
“Yes. What’s bred in the bone there’s no getting away from—it is part of oneself.”
“Two heads are better than one. It may be the case of the mouse and the lion. Promise me that you will put this idea out of your head. Listen. I will make some hot coffee at the stove, and we will go and sit out in the veranda and you shall tell me everything. ”

“ Ronnie's condition is brought about by temporary circumstances which are not in the least likely to have permanent results. He has always had the eccentricity of genius; but, since his genius has been recognised, people have ceased to consider him eccentric. Now I must be off. But I will see him first. Will you show me his room?" "He is asleep," objected Aubrey. "Is it not a pity to disturb him?"
"I doubt his being asleep," replied Dick. "But if he is, we shall not wake him." ”

“ But François lingered. "M'sieur."
"Well?" asked Ronnie, turning with a scowl.
François was ill at ease.
"Tomorrow my brother is coming from Interlaken, may I have an evening for myself, M'sieur?"
Ronald was angry for many reasons: he was not in the mood to grant favors.
"You have Sundays and you have your holidays. That's enough," he said.
François went out crestfallen.
"I suppose you think I'm unkind," said Ronnie with a laugh, as he helped take off her coat. "But if you give that sort of people an inch, they'll take the earth." ”

“ Mom's face paled. "I don't understand."
"You've interested Ronnie in old things. To a child in its formative years, in a pleasant house, these things symbolize peace and security. Ronnie's been conditioned from the very time of his birth to like old things. It was natural for him to be attracted by books. And we were just too stupid to realize it."
Mom whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry, David."
Hot anger flashed in Dad's eyes. "It isn't enough to be sorry. Don't you see what this means? Ronnie'll have to be memory-washed back to the time of birth. He'll have to start life all over again." ”

“ I've never told anyone—not even Ronnie. I haven't read a book, haven't even looked at one since we were married. I've tried to be a good wife—"
"A good wife." Dad sneered. His face was so ugly that Ronnie looked away.
Mom continued, "I—I learned when I was just a girl. I was young like Ronnie. You know how young people are—reckless, eager to do forbidden things." ”

“ The Infant of Prague leaned calmly against its chair, reflecting the fire in its polished surface, and pressing its one sharp foot into the parquet. Aubrey smiled, deprecatingly, and waved Ronnie back to his seat.
"My dear fellow, I am sure I beg your pardon. My cousin certainly gave her family to understand that she had paid your debts. No doubt this was not the case. We all know that women are somewhat given to exaggeration and inaccuracy. Think no more of it."
Ronnie sat down moodily in his chair.
"It was unlike Helen," he said, "and it was a lie. I shall find out with whom it originated. ”

“ You are uncharitable, Christina! Nothing Ronnie does is right in your eyes. Of course he didn't hint. It is the way he looks, when I speak about her. I know that he doesn't like her very much. He admitted it, because, just after we had been talking about her, he said that I was the only girl he had ever met who did not bore him—unutterably. ”

“ Now, as always, the village drew Ronnie like a magnet. He raced down the face of the bluff, whirling his arms about like propeller blades to keep his balance. At the bottom he stopped. Now that he was here, he couldn’t decide just which part of the village he wanted to visit. He could swing on the wild grapevines in front of the gristmill, and maybe take off his trousers and go sailing feet first into the millpond. ”

“ It was his dependence that swayed her and decided her. It was the boy Ronnie needing tenderness and care.
Involved and fantastic as it may sound, I have the belief that it was the mother instinct that took Rose off with Ronnie more than love. What I mean is that she did not go with him as most women go with men, through ordinary passion, but because he was fragile and in need of protection and she thought of him as her own, or—subconsciously of course—even as one of those unborn sons which he himself would have begotten. So mystical can women be! ”

“ A dozen old family portraits—banished from more important places, because their expressions annoyed Ronnie—were crowded into whatever space was available, and glowered down, from the bad light to which they had been relegated, on the very modern young man whose uncomplimentary remarks had effected their banishment, and who sprawled luxuriously in the firelight, monarch of all he surveyed, in the domain which for centuries had been their own. ”

“ Turner’s one and only son, Ronald, tattles on us.
Ronnie, we call him, is a mamma’s boy if there ever was one. He’s thin and scared looking, if you get what I mean—the sort who wears rubbers if there’s a cloud in the sky. You can’t point your finger at him without his running home and telling about it. Talk about sensitive! Mack Sleder asked him “how come his hair wasn’t combed?” one morning and Ronnie almost busts out crying. Perhaps he can’t help it. But you know how fellows are, if a guy acts that way, they poke a lot of fun at him. Ronnie steers pretty clear of us, though. ”