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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15578-8.txt b/15578-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..72afc20 --- /dev/null +++ b/15578-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8368 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Miracle Man, by Frank L. Packard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Miracle Man + +Author: Frank L. Packard + +Release Date: April 7, 2005 [EBook #15578] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIRACLE MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Pilar Somoza and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + THE + MIRACLE MAN + + + BY + FRANK L. PACKARD + + + AUTHOR OF + GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN, ETC. + + NEW YORK + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS + + 1914 + + + TO + NEARLY + EVERYBODY + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I THE "ROOST" + + II A NEW CULT + + III NEEDLEY + + IV THE PATRIARCH + + V A STRANGE CONVERSATION + + VI OFFICIALLY ENDORSED + + VII THE PATRIARCH'S GRAND NIECE + + VIII IN WHICH THE BAIT IS NIBBLED + + IX THE PILGRIMAGE + + X THE MIRACLE + + XI THE AFTERMATH + + XII "SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY" + + XIII REAL MONEY + + XIV KNOTTING THE STRINGS + + XV THE MIRACLE OVERDONE + + XVI A FLY IN THE OINTMENT + + XVII IN WHICH HELENA TAKES A RIDE + +XVIII THE BOOMERANG + + XIX THE SANCTUARY OF DARKNESS + + XX TO THE VICTOR ARE THE SPOILS + + XXI FACE VALUE + + XXII THE SHRINE + +XXIII THE WAY OUT + + XXIV VALE! + + + + + + +THE MIRACLE MAN + + + + +--I-- + +THE "ROOST" + + +He was a misshapen thing, bulking a black blotch in the night at the +entrance of the dark alleyway--like some lurking creature in its lair. +He neither stood, nor kneeled, nor sat--no single word would describe +his posture--he combined all three in a sort of repulsive, formless +heap. + +The Flopper moved. He came out from the alleyway onto the pavement, into +the lurid lights of the Bowery, flopping along knee to toe on one leg, +dragging the other leg behind him--and the leg he dragged was limp and +wobbled from the knee. One hand sought the pavement to balance himself +and aid in locomotion; the other arm, the right, was twisted out from +his body in the shape of an inverted V, the palm of his hand, with half +curled, contorted fingers, almost touching his chin, as his head sagged +at a stiff, set angle into his right shoulder. Hair straggled from the +brim of a nondescript felt hat into his eyes, and curled, dirty and +unshorn, around his ears and the nape of his neck. His face was covered +with a stubble of four days' growth, his body with rags--a coat; a +shirt, the button long since gone at the neck; and trousers gaping in +wide rents at the knees, and torn at the ankles where they flapped +around miss-mated socks and shoes. + +A hundred, two hundred people passed him in a block, the populace of the +Bowery awakening into fullest life at midnight, men, women and +children--the dregs of the city's scum--the aristocracy of upper Fifth +Avenue, of Riverside Drive, aping Bohemianism, seeking the lure of the +Turkey Trot, transported from the Barbary Coast of San Francisco. Rich +and poor, squalor and affluence, vice and near-vice surged by him, +voicing their different interests with laughter and sobs and soft words +and blasphemy, and, in a sort of mocking chorus, the composite effect +rose and fell in pitiful, jangling discords. + +Few gave him heed--and these few but a cursory, callous glance. The +Flopper, on the inside of the sidewalk, in the shadow of the buildings, +gave as little as he got, though his eyes were fastened sharply, now +ahead, now, screwing around his body to look behind him, on the faces of +the pedestrians as they passed; or, rather, he appeared to look through +and beyond those in his immediate vicinity to the ones that followed in +his rear from further down the street, or approached him from the next +corner. + +Suddenly the Flopper shrank into a doorway. From amidst the crowd +behind, the yellow flare of a gasoline lamp, outhanging from a +secondhand shop, glinted on brass buttons. An officer, leisurely +accommodating his pace to his own monarchial pleasure, causing his +hurrying fellow occupants of the pavement to break and circle around +him, sauntered casually by. The Flopper's black eyes contracted with +hate and a scowl settled on his face, as he watched the policeman pass; +then, as the other was lost again in the crowd ahead, he once more +resumed his progress down the block. + +The Flopper crossed the intersecting street, his leg trailing a +helpless, sinuous path on its not over-clean surface, and started along +the next block. Halfway down was a garishly lighted establishment. When +near this the Flopper began to hurry desperately, as from further along +the street again his ear caught the peculiar raucous note of an +automobile horn accompanied by the rumbling approach of a heavy motor +vehicle. He edged his way now, wriggling, squirming and dodging between +the pedestrians, to the outer edge of the sidewalk, and stopped in front +of the music hall. + +A sight-seeing car, crammed to capacity, reaching its momentary Mecca, +drew up at the curb; and the guide's voice rose over the screech of the +brakes: + +"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will get out here for a little while. +This is Black Ike's famous Auditorium, the scene of last week's +sensational triple murder! Please remember that there is no charge for +admission to patrons of the company. Just show your coupons, ladies and +gentlemen, and walk right ahead." + +The passengers began to pour from the long seats to the ground. The +Flopper's hat was in his hand. + +"Fer God's sake, gents an' ladies, don't pass me by," he cried +piteously. "I could work once, but look at me now--I was run over by a +fire truck. God bring pity to yer hearts--youse have money fer pleasure, +spare something fer me." + +The first man down from the seat halted and stared at the twisted, +unsightly thing before him, and, with a little gasp, reached into his +pocket and dropped a bill into the Flopper's hat. + +"God bless you!" stammered the Flopper--and the tears sprang swimming to +his eyes. + +The first man passed on with a gruff, "Oh, all right," but he had left +an example behind him that few of his fellow passengers ignored. + +"T'ank you, mum," mumbled the Flopper, as the money dropped into his +hat. "God reward you, sir.... Ah, miss, may you never know a tear.... +'Twas heaven brought you 'ere to-night, lady." + +They passed, following the guide. The Flopper scooped the money into a +pile in his hat, began to tuck it away in some recess of his shirt--when +a hand was thrust suddenly under his nose. + +"Come on, now, divvy!" snapped a voice in his ear. + +It was the driver of the car, who had dropped from his seat to the +ground. A gleam of hate replaced the tears in the Flopper's eyes. + +"Go to hell!" he snarled through thin lips--and his hand closed +automatically over the cap. + +"Come on, now, I ain't got no time to fool!" prompted the man, with a +leer. "I'm dead onto your lay, and there's a bull comin' along now--half +or him, which?" + +The Flopper's eyes caught the brass buttons of the officer returning on +his beat, and his face was white with an inhuman passion, as, clutching +a portion of what was left in the hat, he lifted his hand from the rest. + +"Thanks!" grinned the chauffeur, snatching at the remainder. "'Tain't +half, but it'll do"--and he hurried across the sidewalk, and disappeared +inside a saloon. + +Oaths, voicing a passion that rocked the Flopper to his soul, purled in +a torrid stream from his lips, and for a moment made him forget the +proximity of the brass buttons. He raised his fist, that still clenched +some of the money, and shook it after the other--and his fist, uplifted +in midair, was caught in a vicious grip--the harness bull was standing +over him. + +"Beat it!" rasped the officer roughly, "or I'll--hullo, what you got +here? Open your hand!"--he gave a sharp twist as he spoke, the +Flopper's fingers uncurled, and the money dropped into the policeman's +other hand--held conveniently below the Flopper's. + +"It's mine--gimme it back," whined the Flopper. + +"Yours! Yours, is it!" growled the officer. "Where'd you get it? Stole +it, eh? Go on, now, beat it--or I'll run you in! Beat it!" + +With twitching fingers, the Flopper picked up his cap, placed it on his +head and sidled away. Ten yards along, in the shadow of the buildings +again, he looked back--the officer was still standing there, twirling +his stick, one hand just emerging from his pocket. The Flopper's finger +nails scratched along the stone pavement and curved into the palm of his +hand until the skin under the knuckles was bloodless white, and his lips +moved in ugly, whispered words--then, still whispering, he went on +again. + +Down the Bowery he went like a human toad, keeping in the shadows, +keeping his eyes on the ground before him, a glint like a shudder in +their depths--on he went with hopping, lurching jerks, with whispering +lips. Street after street he passed, and then at a corner he turned and +went East--not far, only to the side entrance of the saloon on the +corner known, to those who _knew_, as the "Roost." + +The door before which he stopped, on a level with the street, might +readily have passed for the entrance to one of the adjoining tenements, +for it was innocent to all appearances of any connection with the +unlovely resort of which it was a part--and it was closed. + +The Flopper rang no bell. After a quick glance around him to assure +himself that he was not observed, he reached up for the doorknob, turned +it, and with surprising agility hopped oven the threshold and closed the +door behind him. + +A staircase, making one side of a narrow and dimly lighted hall, from +down whose length came muffled sounds from the barroom, was before him; +and this, without hesitation, the Flopper began to mount, his knee +thumping from step to step, his dangling leg echoing the sound in a +peculiar; quick double thump. He reached the first landing, went along +it, and started up the second flight--but now the thumping sound he made +seemed accentuated intentionally, and upon his face there spread a grin +of malicious humor. + +He halted before the door opposite the head of the second flight of +stairs, opened it, wriggled inside and shut it behind him. + +"Hullo, Helena!" he snickered. "Pipe me comin'?" + +The room was a fairly large one, gaudily appointed with cheap +furnishings, one of the Roost's private parlors--a girl on a couch in +the corner had raised herself on her elbow, and her dark eyes were fixed +uncompromisingly upon the Flopper, but she made no answer. + +The Flopper laughed--then a spasm seemed to run through him, a horrible +boneless contortion of limbs and body, a slippery, twitching movement, +a repulsive though almost inaudible clicking of rehabilitated +joints--and the Flopper stood erect. + +The girl was on her feet, her eyes flashing. + +"Can that stunt!" she cried angrily. "You give me the shivers! Next time +you throw your fit, you throw it before you come around me, or I'll make +you wish you had--see?" + +The Flopper was swinging legs and arms to restore a normal channel of +circulation. + +"Y'oughter get used to it," said he, with a grin. "Ain't Pale Face Harry +come yet, an' where's the Doc?" + +"Behind the axe under the table," said the girl tartly--and flung +herself back on the couch. + +"T'anks," said the Flopper. "Say, Helena, wot's de new lay de Doc has +got up his sleeve?" + +Helena made no answer. + +"Is yer grouch painin' you so's yer tongue's hurt?" inquired the Flopper +solicitously. + +Still no answer. + +"Well, go to the devil!" said the Flopper politely. + +He resumed the swinging of his arms and legs, but stopped suddenly a +moment later as a step, sounded outside in the hall and he turned +expectantly. + +A young man, thin, emaciated, with gaunt, hollow face, abnormally bright +eyes and sallow skin, entered. He was well, but modestly, dressed; and +he coughed a little now, as though the two flights' climb had overtaxed +him--it was the man who had headed the subscription list to the Flopper +half an hour before in front of Black Ike's Auditorium. + +"Hello, Helena!" he greeted, nodding toward the couch. "I shook the +rubber-neck bunch at Ike's, Flopper. That was a peach of a haul, eh, old +pal--the boobs came to it as though they couldn't get enough." + +A sudden and reminiscent scowl clouded the Flopper's face. He stepped to +the table, reached his hand into his shirt, and flung down a single +one-dollar bill and a few coins. + +"Dere's de haul, Harry--help yerself"--his invitation was a snarl. + +Pale Face Harry had followed to the table. He looked first at the money, +then at the Flopper--and a tinge of red dyed his cheek. He coughed +before he spoke. + +"Y'ain't going to stall on _me_, Flopper, are you?" he demanded, in an +ominous monotone. + +"Stall!"--the word came away in a roar too genuine to leave any doubt of +the Flopper's sincerity, or the turbulent state of the Flopper's soul. +"Stall nothin'! De driver held me up fer some of it, an' de cop pinched +de rest." + +"And you the king of Floppers!" breathed Pale Face Harry sadly. "D'ye +hear that, Helena? Come over here and listen. Go ahead, Flopper, tell us +about it." + +Helena rose from the couch and came over to the table. + +"Poor Flopper!" said she sweetly. + +"Shut up!" snapped the Flopper savagely. + +"Go on," prompted Pale Face Harry. "Go on, Flopper--tell us about it." + +"I told you, ain't I?" growled the Flopper. "De driver called a divvy +wid de cop comin', an I had ter shell--an' wot he left de cop pinched. +Dat's all"--the Flopper's mouth was working again with the rage that +burned within him. + +Pale Face Harry, with pointed forefinger, gingerly and facetiously laid +the coins out in a row on the table. + +"And you the king of Floppers!" he murmured softly. "It's a wonder you +didn't let the Salvation Army get the rest away from you on the way +along!" + +Helena laughed--but the Flopper didn't. He stepped close to Pale Face +Harry, and shoved his face within an inch of the other's. + +"You close yer jaw," he snarled, "or I'll make yer map look like wot's +goin' ter happen ter dat cross-eyed snitch of a guy dat did me--him an' +de harness bull, when I--" The Flopper stopped abruptly, and edged away +from Pale Face Harry. "Hullo, Doc," he said meekly. "I didn't hear youse +comin' in." + +A man, fair-haired, broad-shouldered, immaculate in well-tailored +tweeds, reliant in poise, leaned nonchalantly against the door--inside +the room. He was young, not more than twenty-eight, with clean-shaven, +pleasant, open face--a handsome face, marred only to the close observer +by the wrinkles beginning to pucker around his eyes, and a slight, +scarcely discernible puffiness in his skin--"Doc" Madison, gentleman +crook and high-class, polished con-man, who had lifted his profession to +an art, was still too young to be indelibly stamped with the hall-marks +of dissipation. + +His gray eyes travelled from one to another, lingered an instant on +Helena, and came back to the Flopper. + +"What's the trouble?" he demanded quietly. + +It was Pale Face Harry who answered him. + +"The Flopper's got it in for a couple of ginks that handed him one--a +bull and a chauffeur on a gape-wagon," he grinned, punctuating his words +with a cough. "The Flopper's got an idea the corpse-preserver's business +is dull, and he's going to help 'em out with two orders and pay for the +flowers himself." + +Doc Madison shook his head and smiled a little grimly. + +"Forget it, Flopper!" he said crisply. "I've something better for you to +do. You fade away, disappear and lay low from this minute. I don't care +what you do when you're resurrected, but from now on the three of you +are dead and buried, and the police go into mourning for at least six +months." + +"What you got for us, Doc?--something nice?"--Helena pushed Pale Face +Harry and the Flopper unceremoniously out of her line of vision as she +spoke. + +"Yes--the drinks. Cleggy's bringing them," Madison laughed--and opened +the door, as the tinkle of glass and a shuffling footstep sounded +without. + +A man, big, hulking, thick-set and slouching, with shifty, cunning +little black eyes and the face of a bruiser, his nose bent over and +almost flattened down on one cheek, entered the room, carrying four +glasses on a tin tray. He set down the tray, and, as he lifted the +glasses from it and placed them on the table, he leered around at the +little group. + +"Gee!" he said, sucking in his breath. "De Doc, an' Helena, an' Pale +Face, an' de Flopper! Gee, dis looks like de real t'ing--dis looks like +biz." + +"It does--fifty-cents' worth--ten for yourself," said Doc Madison +suavely, flipping the coin into the tray. "Now, clear out!" + +"Say"--Cleggy put his forefinger significantly to the side of his +nose--"say, can't youse let a sport in on--" + +"Clear out!" Doc Madison broke in quite as suavely as before--but there +was a sudden glint of steel in the gray eyes as they held the bruiser's, +and Cleggy, hastily picking up the tray, scuffled from the room. + +Madison watched the door close, then he began to pace slowly up and down +the room. + +"Pull the chairs up to the table so we can take things comfortably," he +directed. + +"There ain't but two," grinned Pale Face Harry. + +"Oh, well, never mind," said Madison. + +"Slew the couch around and pull that up--Helena and I will sit on the +head of it." + +Still pacing up and down the length of the room, his hands in his +pockets, Doc Madison watched the others as they carried out his +directions; and then, suddenly, as he neared the door, his hand shot +out, wrenched the door open, and, quick as a panther in its spring, he +was in the hall without. + +There was a yell, a scuffle, the rip and crash of rending bannisters, an +instant's silence, then a heavy thud--and then Cleggy's voice from +somewhere below in a choice and fervent flow of profanity. + +Doc Madison re-entered the room, closed the door, dispassionately +arranged a disordered cuff, brushed a few particles of dust from his +sleeves and shoulder, and, this done, started toward the table--and +stopped. + +Helena had swung herself to the table edge, and, glass in hand, dangling +her neatly shod little feet, was smoking a cigarette, her brown hair +with a glint of amber in it, her dark eyes veiled now by their heavy +lashes; on the other side of the table Pale Face Harry coughed, as, with +sleeve rolled back, he was intent on the hypodermic needle he was +pushing into his arm; while the Flopper, his eyes with a dog-like +admiration in them fixed on Madison, stood facing the door, a grotesque, +unpleasant figure, unkempt, unshaven, furtive-faced, his rags hanging +disreputably about him, his trousers with their frayed edges, now that +he stood upright, reaching far above his boot tops and flagrantly +exposing his wretched substitutes for socks. + +Doc Madison reached thoughtfully into his pocket, brought out a silver +cigarette case, and carefully selected a cigarette from amongst its +fellows. + +"Yes; Cleggy was right," he said softly, tapping the end of the +cigarette on his thumb nail. "You're the real thing--the real, real +thing." + + + + +--II-- + +A NEW CULT + + +Doc Madison swung Helena lightly down from the table to the head of the +couch, sat down beside her, one arm circling her waist, and motioned the +Flopper to a chair--then he leaned forward and watched Pale Face Harry +critically, as the latter carefully replaced the shining little +hypodermic in its case. + +"Harry," said he abruptly, jerking his free hand toward the hypodermic, +"could you give up that dope-needle?" + +"Sure, I could--if I wanted to!" asserted Pale Face Harry defiantly. + +"That's good," said Madison cheerfully. "Because you'll have to." + +"Eh?"--Pale Face Harry stared at Doc Madison in amazement. + +"Because you'll have to--by and by," said Madison coolly. "And how about +that cough--can you quit coughing?" + +"When I'm dead--which won't be long," sniffed Pale Face Harry. "D'ye +think I cough because I like it? How'm I going to quit coughing?" + +"I don't know," admitted Doc Madison, frowning seriously. "I only know +you'll have to." + +Pale Face Harry, with jaw dropped, accentuating the gaunt leanness of +his hollow-cheeked, emaciated face, gazed at Doc Madison with a curious +mingling of incredulity and affront--and coughed. + +"Say," he inquired grimly, "what's the answer?" + +Doc Madison took his arm from Helena's waist, pulled a newspaper from +his pocket, spread it out on the table--and his manner changed +suddenly--enthusiasm was in his eyes, his voice, his face. + +"I've steered you three through a few deals," said he impressively, +"that have sized up big enough to keep you out of the raw vaudeville +turn you, Harry, and you, Flopper, are so fond of, and that would have +put Helena here on easy street, if you hadn't blown in all you got about +ten minutes after you got your hands on it--but I've got one here that +sizes up so big you wouldn't be able to spend the money fast enough to +close out your bank account if you did your damnedest! Get that? It's +the greatest cinch that ever came down from the gateway of heaven--and +that's where it came from--heaven. It couldn't have come from anywhere +else--it's too good. And it's new, bran new--it's never had the string +cut or the wrapper taken off. It's got anything that was ever run beaten +by more laps than there are in the track, and it's got a purse tied on +to the end of it that's the biggest ever offered since Adam. But you've +got to work for it, and that's what I brought you here for to-night--to +learn your little pieces so's you can say 'em nice and cute when you get +up on the platform before the audience." + +The Flopper's tongue made a greedy circuit of his upper and under lips, +and he hitched his chair closer to the table. + +A flush spread over Pale Face Harry's cheeks, and his eyes, abnormally +bright, grew brighter. + +"You're all right, Doc," he assured Doc Madison anxiously. "You're all +right." + +"U-uu-mm!" cooed Helena excitedly. "Go on, Doc--go on!" + +"Listen," said Doc Madison, his voice lowered a little. "I found this +tucked away as a filler in a corner of the newspaper this evening. It's +headed, 'A New Cult,' with an interrogation mark after it. Now listen, +while I read it:" + + A NEW CULT? + + Needley, Maine, offers no attraction for aspiring young medical + men. One who tried it recently, and who pulled down his shingle in + disgust after a week, says competition is too strong, as the + village is obsessed with the belief that they have a sort of + faith-healer in their midst to whom is attributed cures of all + descriptions stretching back for a generation or more. The healer, + he adds, who rejoices in the name of the Patriarch and lives in + solitude a mile or so from the village, is something of an anomaly + in himself, being both deaf and dumb. We-- + +"But that's all that interests us," said Doc Madison, as he stopped +reading abruptly and lifted his head to scrutinize his companions +quizzically. + +Pale Face Harry's eyes had lost their gleam and dulled--he gaped +reproachfully at Doc Madison. Helena's small mouth drooped downward in a +disappointed _moue_. Only the Flopper evidenced enthusiastic response. + +"Sure!" he chortled. "Sure t'ing! I see. De old geezer'll have a pile of +shekels hid away, an' he lives by his lonesome a mile from de town. We +sneaks down dere, croaks de guy wid de queer monaker, an' beats it wid +de shekels--sure!" + +Doc Madison turned a sad gray eye on the Flopper. + +"Flopper," said he pathetically, "your soul, like your bones, runs to +rank realism. No; we don't 'croak de guy'--we cherish him, we nurse him, +we fondle him. He's our one best bet, and we fold him to our breasts +tenderly, and we protect him from all harm and danger and sudden death." + +The Flopper blinked a little helplessly. + +"Mabbe," said the Flopper, "I got de wrong dope. Some of dem words you +read I ain't hip to. Wot's anymaly mean?" + +"Anomaly?"--Doc Madison reached for his glass, tossed off the contents +and set it down. "It means, Flopper, in this particular instance," he +said gravely, "that there shouldn't be any interrogation point after the +heading." + +Again the Flopper blinked helplessly--and his fingers picked uncertainly +at the stubble on his chin. The other two gazed disconsolately--and +Helena a little pityingly as well--at Doc Madison. + +Doc Madison flung out his arms suddenly. + +"What's the matter with you all?" he demanded sarcastically. "You look +as though your faces pained you! What's the matter with you? You're +bright enough ordinarily, Helena, and, Harry, you're no dub--what's the +matter with you? Can't you see it--can't you see it! Why, it's sticking +out a mile--it's _waiting_ for us! The whole plant's there and all we've +got to do is get steam under the boilers. We'll have 'em coming for the +cure from every State in the Union, and begging us to let them throw +their diamond tiaras at us for a look-in at the shrine. Don't you see +it--can't you get it--can't you _get_ it!" + +Helena bent suddenly over Doc Madison's shoulder, her eyes opening wide +with dawning comprehension. + +"The cure?" she breathed. + +"Sure--the cure," said Doc Madison earnestly. "The new cult--that's us. +Get the people talking, show 'em something, and you'll have to put up +fences and 'keep off the grass' signs to stop the lame and the halt and +the blind and the neurasthenics from crowding and suffocating to death +for want of air. We'll start a shrine down there that'll be a winner, +and the railroads will be running excursion-rate pilgrimages inside of +two months." + +Pale Face Harry's chair creaked, as, like the Flopper, he now crowded it +in toward the table. + +"I get you!" said he feverishly. "I get you! I've read about them +shrines--only you gotter have churches, and a carload of crutches, and +that sort of thing laying around." + +Doc Madison smiled pleasantly. + +"Yes; you've got me, Harry--only we'll do the stage setting a little +differently. Mostly what is required is--faith. Get them going on that, +and everybody that's sick or near-sick in this great United States, +that's got the swellest collection of boobs and millionaires on earth, +will swarm thitherward like bees--there won't be any one left in the +sanatoriums throughout the length of this broad land of freedom but the +bell boys and the elevator men. Get them going, and all we've got to do +is look out we don't let anything get by us in the crush--a snowball +rolling down hill will size up like a plugged nickel alongside of a +twenty-dollar gold piece when it gets to the bottom, compared with what +we start rolling." + +"I've got you, too," said Helena. "But I don't see where the faith is +coming from, or how you're going to get them coming. You've got to show +them--you said so yourself--even the boobs. How are you going to do +that?" + +"Well," said Doc Madison placidly, "we'll start the show with--a +miracle. I haven't thought of anything more effective than that so +far." + +"A what?" inquired Pale Face Harry, with a grin. + +"A miracle," repeated Doc Madison imperturbably. "A miracle--with the +Flopper here in the star rôle. The Flopper goes down there all tied up +in knots, the high priest, alias the deaf and dumb healer, alias the +Patriarch, lays his soothing hands upon him, the Flopper uncoils into +something that looks like a human being--and the trumpets blow, the band +plays, and the box office opens for receipts." + +Helena slid from her seat, and, with hands on the edge of the table, +advanced her piquant little face close to Doc Madison's, staring at him, +breathing hard. + +"Say that again," she gasped. "Say that again--say it just once more." + +Pale Face Harry's hand, trembling visibly with emotion, was thrust out +across the table. + +"Put it there, Doc," he whispered hoarsely. + +The Flopper, practical, earnestly so, lifted his right arm, wriggled it +a little and began to twist it around, as though it were on a pivot at +the elbow, preparatory to drawing it in, a crippled thing, toward his +chin. + +Doc Madison reached out hurriedly and stopped him. + +"Here, that'll do, Flopper," he said quietly. "You don't need any +rehearsal to hold your job--you're down for the number and your check's +written out." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper to the universe. "I can smell de pine woods +of Maine in me nostrils now. When does I beat it, Doc--to-morrer?" + +Doc Madison laughed. + +"No, Flopper, not to-morrow--nor for several to-morrows--not till the +bill-posters get through, and the stage is dark, and you can hear a pin +drop in the house. I don't want you camping out and catching cold and +missing any of the luxuries you're accustomed to, so I'll start along +ahead in a day or so myself and see what kind of accommodations I can +secure." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper again. "An' to think of me wastin' me +talent on rubber-neck fleets!" + +A puzzled little frown puckered Helena's forehead. + +"I was thinking about the deaf and dumb man," she said slowly. "How +about him, when we pull this off--will he stand for it--and what'll he +do?" + +"Aw!" said Pale Face Harry impatiently. "He don't count! He'll have bats +in his belfry anyway, and if he ain't he'll go off his chump for fair +getting stuck on himself when he sees the stunt he'll think he's done. +He'll be looking for the wings between his shoulder blades, and hunting +for the halo around his head." + +"Harry is waking up," observed Doc Madison affably. "That's about the +idea, Helena. I haven't seen the Patriarch yet, but I don't imagine from +his description that it'll be very hard to make him believe in himself. +He doesn't stand for anything--we don't deal him any cards--he's just +the kitty that circles around with the jackpots while we annex the +chips." + +Doc Madison reached into his vest pocket, took out a penknife whose +handle was gold-chased, opened it, and very carefully cut the article he +had read from the paper. + +"Flopper," said he, "you've heard of gold bonds, haven't you?" + +The Flopper's eyes gleamed an eloquent response. + +"Only you've never had any, eh?" supplied Doc Madison. + +"Where'd I get 'em?" inquired the Flopper, with some bitterness. + +"Right here," smiled Doc Madison, handing him the clipping. "Here's a +trainload and a bank vault full of them combined. Put it away, Flopper, +and don't lose it. Lose anything you've got first--lose your life. It's +worth a private car to you with a buffet full of fizz, and Sambo to wait +on you for the rest of your life. Get that? Don't lose it!" + +The Flopper tucked the clipping into the mysterious recess of his shirt. + +"Say," he said earnestly, "if you say so, Doc, it'll be here when dey +plant me." + +"All right, Flopper," nodded Doc Madison. "And now let's get down to +cases. I've been able to pay my club dues lately, and there's money +enough on deck to buy the costumes and put the show on the road. I start +for Needley as soon as I can get away. When I'm ready for the support, +you three will hear from me--and in the meantime you lay low. Nothing +doing--understand? You'll get all the lime-light you want before you're +through, and it's just as well not to show up so familiar when they +throw the spot on you that even the school kids will know the date of +your birth, and the population will start in squabbling over the choice +of reserved niches for you in the Hall of Fame. See?" + +The Flopper, Pale Face Harry and Helena nodded their heads with one +accord. + +"Give us the whole lay, Doc," urged Pale Face Harry. "And give it to us +quick." + +"Me mouth's waterin'," observed the Flopper, licking his lips again. + +Helena lighted another cigarette, and swung herself back to her perch on +the head of the couch. + +Doc Madison surveyed the three with mingled admiration and delight. + +"The world is ours!" he murmured softly. + +"Oh, hurry up and give us the rest of it," purred Helena. "We know we're +an all-star cast, all right." + +"Very good," said Doc Madison--and laughed. "Well then, the order of +your stage cues will depend on circumstances and what turns up down +there, but we'll start with the Flopper now. First of all, Flopper, +you've got to have a name. What's your real name--what did they decorate +you with at the baptismal font back in the dark ages?" + +The Flopper scrubbed at his very dirty chin with a very dirty thumb and +forefinger. + +"I dunno," said the Flopper anxiously. + +"Well, never mind," said Doc Madison reassuringly. "Maybe you are +blessed above most people--you can pick one out for yourself. What'll it +be?" + +The Flopper's thumb and forefinger scratched desperately for a moment, +then his face lighted with inspiration. + +"Swipe me!" said he excitedly. "I got it--Jimmy de Squirm." + +Doc Madison shook his head gravely. + +"No, Flopper, I'm afraid not," he said gently. "That's another weak +point in your interpretation of the rôle, that I'll come to in a minute. +We'll give you an Irish name by way of charity--it'll help to make your +classical English sound like brogue. We'll call you Coogan--Michael +Coogan--that lets you off with plain Mike in times of stress." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper, with perfect complacence. + +"Glad it pleases you," smiled Doc Madison, "Here's your lay, then. +You've got to remember that you were born crooked and--" + +Helena giggled. + +"I didn't mean it"--Doc Madison's gray eyes twinkled. "You are waking +up, too, Helena. I mean, Flopper, you've got to remember that you were +born twisted up into the same shape you are in when you hit Needley. You +come from--let's see--we'll have to have a big city where the next door +neighbors pass each other with a vacant stare. Ever been in Chicago?" + +"Naw! Wot fer?" said the Flopper, with withering spontaneity. "Noo Yoik +fer mine." + +"Well, all right--New York it is, then," agreed Doc Madison. "You're +poor, but respectable--and that brings us to the other point. Before you +go down there, Helena's going to start a little night-school with a +grammar, and teach you to paddle along the fringe of the great American +language so's you won't fall in and get wet all over every time you open +your mouth." + +"My!" exclaimed Helena. "Won't that be nice!" + +"I hope so," said Doc Madison drily. "And don't run away with the idea +that I'm joking about this--that goes. I don't expect to make a +silver-tongued orator out of you, Flopper, and perhaps not even a +purist--but I hope to eradicate a few minor touches of Bad Land +vernacular from your vocabulary." + +"I've gotcher--swipe me!" grinned the Flopper. "Me at school! Say, +wouldn't that put a smile on de maps of de harness bulls, an' de dips, +an' de lags doin' spaces up de river!" + +"Quite so," admitted Doc Madison pleasantly. + +"You won't laugh when I get through with you," remarked Helena, her eyes +on the curl of smoke from her cigarette. + +"There's just one more thing," went on Doc Madison, "and I'm through +with you, Flopper. Don't come down there looking like a skate--that's +too raw. Get new clothes and a shave--and keep shaved. And from the +minute you buy your ticket, you keep your bones, or whatever a +beneficent nature has given you in place of them, out of joint--see?" + +"I'm hip," declared the Flopper--and the dog-like admiration for Doc +Madison burned in his eyes. "Say, Doc, youse are de--" + +"Never mind, Flopper," Madison cut in brightly. "It's getting late. Now, +Harry, about you. You've got a name, I believe. Evans, isn't it? +Yes--well, that will do. Now, don't kill yourself at it, but the more +you work your dope needle overtime before you start, and the harder you +cough when you first land there the better. We've got to have variety, +you know. You're a physical wreck with the folks back home sending the +casket and trimmings after you on the next train in care of the station +agent." + +"I guess," coughed Pale Face Harry, with a sickly smile, "I look the +part." + +"You certainly do," said Helena cheerfully, beating a tattoo with her +heels on the end of the couch. + +Pale Face Harry scowled. + +"I ain't no artist with the paint," he sniffed. + +"I don't paint," said Helena sweetly. "It's rouge." + +"Are you through?" inquired Doc Madison patiently. "Because, if you are, +I'll go on. When the train whistles for Needley, Harry, you put the soft +pedal on the dope--that ought to help some. And then you begin to taper +that cough off and become a cure--that's all." + +"I ain't like the Flopper," said Pale Face Harry ruefully. "I told you +once I can't stop the hack, and I ask you again how'm I going to?" + +"Have faith in the Patriarch," suggested Helena innocently. + +"You close your trap!" exclaimed Pale Face Harry savagely; then, to +Madison: "Go on, Doc--it's up to you." + +"No," said Doc Madison coolly, "it's up to you. You've got to try, and +if you can't stop altogether you can make yourself scarce when you feel +the fit coming on--you won't have to climb up on the grandstand and +cough in people's faces, will you?" + +"He might carry a screen around with him and cough behind that," +volunteered Helena. "That's enough about the Flopper and Pale Face--what +about muh? Where do I get off?" + +"You?" said Doc Madison calmly. "Oh, you're a moral neurasthenic." + +"And what's that when it's at home?" demanded Helena sharply. + +Doc Madison threw out his hands in a comically helpless, impotent +gesture. + +"It's what we need to keep up the standard of variety," he said. "We're +playing to the masses. Don't you like the rôle, Helena--it's the leading +woman's." + +"What do I do?" countered Helena non-committingly. + +"Do?" echoed Doc Madison. "Why, you go down there like a whole parade +and a gorgeous pageant rolled into one, in feathers and paint and +diamond boulders in your ears--and you come out of it in a gingham apron +and coy sunbonnet as sweet sixteen." + +"Oh!" said Helena--and her eyes were on the curl of smoke from her +cigarette again. + +"Say," said Pale Face Harry suddenly, evidently still worried about his +cough, "we ain't going to have no easy cinch of this." + +"No," said Doc Madison, with a grim smile; "you're not! It's going to be +the hardest work any of you have ever done--you've got to lead decent +lives for awhile." + +"Sure--dat's right," said the loyal Flopper; "but we stands fer anyt'ing +dat de Doc says--an' dat goes!" + +"It'll come hard on some of us," remarked Pale Face Harry, with a sly +glance at Helena, which met with contemptuous silence. + +Doc Madison leaned back, felt carefully at his carefully adjusted +tie--and smiled engagingly. + +"Well?" he asked. "Can you see them coming?" + +Pale Face Harry stared at him with a far-away expression in his eyes. + +"When we get through with this, if I ain't handed in my checks before," +he said dreamily, "it's mine for a brownstone on the Avenue, and one of +them life-size landscapes with a shack on it for the season down to Pa'm +Beach that they call country cottages. I'll dress the ginks that scrub +the horses down in solid gold braid, and put the corpse of chamber +ladies in Irish lace--I bust into society, marry a duke's one and only, +and swipe her coronet for my manly brow. Did you ask me anything, Doc?" + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper. "Me in me private Pullman in a plush seat +an' anudder to put me feet in, an' me thumbs in de armholes of me vest. +I wears a high polished lid an' a red tie, an' scatters simoleans outer +de window in me travels to the gazaboes on de platforms as I pass--an' +den I joins Tammany Hall so's I can stick me fingers to me nose every +time I sees a cop." + +"Flopper," said Doc Madison in an awed voice, "the honor is all mine." + +Helena went off into a peal of rippling, silvery, contagious laughter, +and her little heels again beat an exuberant tattoo on the end of the +couch. + +"Yes?" invited Doc Madison, smiling at her. + +"I'm seeing them coming," said Helena--and one heel went through the +cretonne upholstery of the couch. + +"Good!" said Doc Madison--and from the inside pocket of his coat he +pulled out a package of crisp, new, yellow-backed bills. "You +understand that down there none of you ever heard of each other or of me +before, and you drop the 'doc'--bury it! My name is John G. Madison--G. +for Garfield." His fingers passed deftly over the edges of the bills. He +pushed a little pile toward the Hopper, another toward Pale Face Harry, +and tucked the remainder into his coat pocket again. "That'll do for +expenses," he said. "And now, if you understand everything, principally +that you're to go to church Sundays till you hear from me, and you're +quite satisfied with the lay, we'll adjourn, _sine die_, to Needley." + +Helena was holding out a very dainty hand, with pink, wiggling fingers. + +"I'll need, oh, ever so much more than they will," she declared, with a +bewitching pout. "And, please, I'm waiting very patiently." + +Doc Madison laughed. + +"By and by, Helena," he said, patting her hand. "Well, Flopper, well, +Harry--what do you say?" + +The Flopper pushed back his chair and stood up hesitantly like a man +unexpectedly called upon for an after-dinner speech. He stood there +awkwardly a moment gazing at Doc Madison, his tongue slowly circling his +lips; then, with a gulp, as though words to express his feelings were +utterly beyond him, he turned and started for the door. + +Pale Face Harry, as he rose, shoved out his hand. + +"I don't deserve my luck to be in on this," he said modestly. "Only, +Doc, push it along on the high gear, will you--I ain't going to be able +to sleep thinking about it." He looked at Helena a little +undecidedly--and compromised on brevity. "'Night, Helena," he flung out. + +"Oh, good-night, Harry," she smiled. + +The Flopper turned at the door and came back a few steps into the room. + +"Say, Doc," he said, blinking furiously, "youse can wipe yer feet on me +any time youse like--dat's wot!" + +"All right, Flopper," said Doc Madison gravely. "When you've joined +Tammany Hall--good-night." He followed across the room, and from the +doorway watched the two descend the stairs. "Good-night," he said again, +then closed the door and came back into the room. "Well, Helena?" he +remarked tentatively. + +"Well--Garfield?"--Helena clasped her hands around one knee and rocked +gently. + +"Don't be familiar, Helena," Doc Madison chuckled. "Is that all you've +got to say?" + +"I'm busy thinking about The Great American Play," she said pertly. +"There's one thing you forgot." + +"What's that?" he asked, still smiling. + +"The curtain on the last act," she said. "The getaway." + +Doc Madison shook his head. + +"Nothing doing!" he returned. "There's no getaway. It's safe--so safe +that there's nothing to it. We don't guarantee anything, and there's no +entrance fee to the pavilion--all contributions are strictly voluntary." + +"That's all right," said Helena. "But of course we can't really cure +them. We can get them going hard enough to make them think they are for +awhile, but after they've thrown away their crutches and got back +home--what then?" + +"Well, what then?" inquired Doc Madison easily. + +"They'll yell 'fake!' and swear out warrants," said Helena, her dark +eyes studying Doc Madison. + +"Not according to statistics," replied Doc Madison, and his lips +twitched quizzically at the corners. "According to statistics they'll +buy another crutch and come back to buck the tiger again. Say, Helena, +to-morrow, you go up to the public library and read up on +shrines--they've been running since the ark--and they're running still. +You never heard any howl about them, did you? What's the answer to those +cures?" + +"That's different," said Helena. "That's religion, and they've got +relics and things." + +"It's faith," said Doc Madison, "and it doesn't matter what the basis of +it is. Faith, Helena, _faith_--get that? And we're going to imbue them +with a faith that'll set them crazy and send them into hysterics. And +talk about relics! Haven't we got one? Look at the Patriarch! Can't you +see the whole town yelling 'I told you so!' and swopping testimonials +hard enough to crowd the print down so fine, if you tried to get it all +into the papers, that you'd have to use a magnifying glass to read it, +once we've pulled off the miracle? Don't you worry about the getaway. If +there's any sign of anything like that, you and I, Helena, will be +taking moonlight rides in the gondolas of Venice long before it breaks." + +Helena choked--and began to laugh deliciously. + +Doc Madison stared at her for a moment whimsically--then he, too, burst +into a laugh. + +"Oh, Lord!" he gurgled. "It's rich, isn't it?" And sweeping Helena off +the couch and into his arms, he began to dance around and around the +table. "Ring-around-a-rosy!" he cried. "We haven't done so bad in the +misty past, but here's where we cross to the enchanted shore and play on +jewelled harps with golden strings and--" + +"Is that all?" gasped Helena, laughing and breathless, as at last she +pulled herself away. + +"No," panted Doc Madison. "There's a table I've reserved up at the +Rivoli that's waiting for us now. We're about to part for days and days, +lady mine, that's the tough luck of it, but we'll make a night of it +to-night anyway--what?" + +"You bet!" said Helena, doing a cake-walk towards the door. "Come on!" + + + + +--III-- + +NEEDLEY + + +"Needley?" + +It wasn't wholly an interrogation--it seemed to Madison that there was +even sympathy in the parlor-car conductor's voice, as the other took his +seat check. + +"Health," said Madison meekly. "Perfect rest and quiet--been overdoing +it, you know." + +"_Needley_!"--the train conductor of the Bar Harbor Express, collecting +the transportation, threw the word at Madison as though it were a +personal affront. + +The tone seemed to demand an apology from Madison--and Madison +apologized. + +"Health," he said apologetically. "Perfect rest and quiet--been +overdoing it, you know." + +"We're five minutes late now," grunted the conductor uncompromisingly +and, to Madison, quite irrelevantly, as he passed on down the aisle. + +Somehow, this inspired Madison to consult his timetable. He drew it from +his pocket, ran his eye down the long list of stations--and stopped at +"Needley." Needley had an asterisk after it. By consulting a block of +small type at the bottom of the page, he found a corresponding asterisk +with the words: "Flag station. Stops only on signal, or to discharge +eastbound passengers from Portland." + +John Garfield Madison went into the smoking compartment of the car for a +cigar--several cigars--until Needley was reached some two hours later, +when the dusky attendant, as he pocketed Madison's dollar, set down his +little rubber-topped footstool with a flourish on a desolate and +forbidding-looking platform. + +Madison was neither surprised nor dismayed--the parlor-car conductor, +the train conductor and the timetable had in no way attempted to deceive +him--he was only cold. He turned up his coat collar--and blew on his +kid-gloved fingers. + +As far as he could see everything was white with a thin layer of +snow--he kicked some of it off his toes onto the unshovelled platform. +The landscape was disconsolately void of even a vestige of life, there +was not a sign of habitation--just woods of bare trees, except the firs, +whose green seemed out of place. + +"I have arrived," said John Garfield Madison to himself, "at a +cemetery." + +There was a very small station, and through the window he caught sight +of a harassed-faced, red-haired man. There was a thump, another one, a +very vicious one--and Madison stirred uneasily--the train, with its five +minutes' delinquency hanging over it, was already moving out, as his +trunks, from the baggage car ahead, shot unceremoniously to the +platform. Madison watched a man, the sole occupant of the platform apart +from himself, save the trunks from rolling under the wheels of the +train; then his eyes fastened on a rickety, two-seated wagon, drawn by a +horse that at first glance appeared to earn all it got. + +The train left the platform--and left quite as uninviting a perspective +on the other side of the track as had previously greeted Madison's +restricted view. But now the man who had salvaged his baggage came down +the platform toward him. Madison inspected the approaching figure with +interest. The man ambled along without haste, his jaws wagging +industriously upon his tobacco, his iron-gray chin whiskers, from the +wagging, flapping like a burgee in a breeze. He wore a round fur cap, +quite bare of fur at the edges where the pelt showed shiny, and a red +woollen tippet was tied round his neck and knotted at the back with the +ends dangling down over his coat. The coat itself, a long one of some +fuzzy material, with huge side pockets into which the man's hands were +plunged, reached to the cavernous tops of jackboots where the nether +ends of his trousers were stowed away. + +The man halted before Madison, and, reaching a mittened hand under his +chin, reflectively lifted his whiskers to an acute angle, while his blue +eyes over the rims of steel-bowed spectacles wandered from Madison to +Madison's dress-suit case and back to Madison again. + +"Be you goin' to git off here?" he inquired. + +Madison smiled at him engagingly. + +"Well," he said, "I wouldn't care to have it known, but if you can keep +a secret--" + +"Hee-hee!" tittered the other. "Now that's right smart, that be. Waren't +expectin' nobody to meet you, was you? I ain't heerd of none of the +folks lookin' for visitors." + +"No," said Madison. "But there's a hotel in the town, isn't there?" + +"Two of 'em," said the other. "The Waalderf an' the Congress, but the +Waalderf ain't done a sight of business since we got pro'bition in the +State an' has kinder got run down. I reckon the Congress'll suit you +best if you ain't against payin' a mite more, which I reckon you ain't +for I see you come down in the parler car." + +"And what," asked Madison, "does the Congress charge?" + +"Well," said the other, "ordinary, it's a dollar a day or five dollars a +week, but this bein' off season an' nobody there, 'twouldn't surprise me +if Walt'ud kind of shade the price for you--Waalderf's three an' a half +a week. Them your duds up the platform? I'll drive you over for forty +cents. What was it you said your name was?" + +"Forty cents is a most disinterested offer, and I accept it heartily," +said Madison affably. "And my name's Madison--John Garfield Madison, +from New York." + +"Mine's Higgins," volunteered the other. "Hiram Higgins, an' I'm +postmaster an' town constable of Needley. An' now, Mr. Madison, I +reckon we'll just get these effects of your'n onto the wagon an' move +along--folks'll be gettin' kinder rambunctious for their mail." + +Hiram Higgins backed the democrat around, roped the baggage onto the +tail-board, picked up the hungry-looking mail-bag from where the mail +clerk had slung it from the car to the platform, threw it down in front +of the dashboard, and got in after it. Madison clambered into the back +seat, and they bumped off along the road. + +"Had a mite of snow night before last," observed Mr. Higgins, pointing +it out with his whip, as he settled himself comfortably. "Kinder +reckoned we'd got rid of it for good till next fall till this come +along, but you can't never tell. What was it you said brought you down +here, Mr. Madison?" + +Madison smiled. + +"Rest and quiet--complete change," he said. "Nervous breakdown, +according to the doctors--that's what they always call it, you know, +when they can't find any other name for it. I've been overdoing it, I +suppose." + +"Be that so!" returned Mr. Higgins sympathetically. "I want to know! +Well, now, that's too bad! Lookin' for quiet, be you? Well, I reckon +mabbe folks don't scurry around here quite so lively as they do in some +of the bigger towns like Noo York, but there's a tolerable lot goin' on +most every week, church festivals, an' spellin' bees, an' such. Folks +here is right hospitable, but you ain't in no way obliged to join in if +you don't feel up to it. I'll explain matters to 'em, an'--" Hiram +Higgins stopped, excitedly gathered reins and whip into one hand, and +with the other smote his knee a resounding whack. "Well, I swan!" he +exclaimed. "An' I never thought of it until this minute! I reckon you've +come to just the right place, and just as soon as you get settled you go +right out an' see the Patriarch--you won't need no more doctor, an' +folks up your way won't know when you go back." + +"The Patriarch?" inquired Madison, with a puzzled air. "Who is he?" + +"Why," said Mr. Higgins, "he's--he's the Patriarch. Been curin' us folks +around here longer'n any one can remember--just does it by faith, too." + +Madison shook his head slowly. + +"I might just as well be frank with you, Mr. Higgins," he said. "I've +never taken much stock in faith cure and that sort of thing." + +"Mabbe," suggested Mr. Higgins deeply, "you ain't had much experience." + +"No," confessed Madison reflectively; "I haven't--I haven't had any." + +"Well then, you just wait an' see," said Mr. Higgins, waving his +mittened hand as though the whole matter were conclusively settled. "You +just wait an' see." + +"But I'm afraid I don't quite understand," prodded Madison innocently. +"What kind of cures does he perform?" + +They turned a right-angled bend in the road, disclosing a straggling +hamlet in a hollow below, and, farther away in the distance, a sweep of +ocean. + +"Most any kind," said Mr. Higgins. "There's Needley now. All you've got +to do is ask the first person you see about him." + +"Yes," said Madison, "but take yourself, for instance. Did this +Patriarch ever do anything for you?" + +"He did," said Mr. Higgins impressively. "An' 'twasn't but last week. +I'm glad you asked me. For two nights I couldn't sleep. Had the earache +powerful. Poured hot oil an' laud'num into it, an' kept a hot brick +rolled up in flannel against it, but didn't do no good. Then Mrs. +Higgins says, 'Hiram, why in the land's sake don't you go out an' see +the Patriarch?' An' I hitched right up, an' every step that horse took I +could feel it gettin' better, an' I wasn't five minutes with the +Patriarch before I was cured, an' I ain't had a twinge since." + +"It certainly looks as though there were something in that," admitted +Madison cautiously. + +Hiram Higgins smiled a world of tolerance. + +"'Tain't worth mentionin' alongside some of the things he's done," he +said deprecatingly. "You'll hear about 'em fast enough." + +"What's the local doctor say about it?" asked Madison. + +"There ain't enough pickin's to keep a doctor here, though some of 'em's +tried," chuckled Mr. Higgins. "Have to have 'em for _some_ things, of +course--an' then he drives over from Barton's Mills, seven miles from +here." + +"And do _all_ the people in Needley believe in the +Patriarch?"--Madison's voice was full of grave interest. + +"Well," said Mr. Higgins, "to be plumb downright honest with you, they +don't. Folks as was born here an' are old inhabitants do, but the +Holmes, bein' newcomers, is kinder set in their ways. They come down +here eight years ago last August with new-fangled notions, which they +ain't got rid of yet. You can see the consequences for yourself--got a +little boy, twelve year old, walking around lame on a crutch--an' I +reckon he always will. Doctor looks at him every time he comes over from +Barton's Mills, but it don't do no good. Folks tried to get the Holmes +to take him out to the Patriarch's till they got discouraged. 'Pears old +man Holmes kinder got around to a common sense view of it, but the women +folks say Mrs. Holmes is stubborner than all git-out, an' that old man +Holmes' voice ain't loud enough to be heerd when she gets goin'. 'Tain't +but fair to mention 'em, as I dunno of any one else that's an +exception." Mr. Higgins pointed ahead with his whip. "See them woods +over there beyond the town?" + +"Yes," said Madison. + +"That's where the Patriarch lives," said Mr. Higgins. "On the other side +of 'em, down by the seashore. An' here we be most home. Folks'll be +glad to see you, Mr. Madison, and now you're here I hope you'll make a +real smart stay--we'll try to make you feel to home." + +"Thank you," said Madison cordially. "I haven't any idea, of course, how +long I'll be here--it all depends on circumstances." + +"No," said Mr. Higgins; "I don't suppose you have. Anyway, I hope you'll +take a notion to go out an' see what the Patriarch can do for you. An' +now you ain't told me yet which hotel you're goin' to." + +"Oh!" said Madison gravely. "Well, since you recommend it, I guess we'd +better make it the Congress." + + + + +--IV-- + +THE PATRIARCH + + +"Bet you a cookie," shrilled Hiram Higgins, in what he meant to be a +breathless whisper, "that there's where he's goin' now--only he don't +want us to know he's give in." + +"Shet your fool mouth, Hiram!" cautioned Walt Perkins, the proprietor of +the Congress Hotel. "He kin hear you." + +"Get out!" retorted Mr. Higgins. "No, he can't neither. He ain't feelin' +no ways perky, any one can see that, an' I'm tickled most to pieces that +he's come 'round--I've took up with him consid'rable, I have. +Patriarch'll just make a new-born critter outer him--you watch through +the window where he goes. Bet you a quarter that's what he's up to!" + +John Garfield Madison, outside on the veranda of the Congress Hotel, +smiled at the words, as he lighted his cigar and turned up his coat +collar. He stepped off the veranda, crossed the little lawn to the +village street, and began to saunter nonchalantly and indifferently +oceanwards. He did not look around--he had no desire to bring +consternation to the massed faces of the leading citizens flattened +against the window panes--but he chuckled inwardly as he pictured them. +There would be Hiram Higgins, postmaster and town constable, Walt +Perkins, hotel man and town moderator, Lem Hodges, selectman, assessor +and overseer of the poor, Nathan Elmes, likewise selectman, assessor and +overseer of the poor, and Cale Rodgers, school committee-man and +proprietor of the general store. + +Madison sauntered slowly along. + +"I have arrived," he said, "not at a cemetery, but at an El Dorado and a +land flowing with milk and honey." + +There was a humorous pucker around the corners of Madison's eyes, as he +reviewed his two days' sojourn in Needley--spent mostly in the "office" +of the Congress Hotel beside the stove with his feet up on the wood-box. +He had never lacked company--the office stove and the spitbox filled +with sawdust was the admitted rendezvous of the chosen spirits who were +still gazing after him from the window. Morning, afternoon and evening +they congregated there, and he had been promptly admitted to membership +in the select circle. At each sitting they had discussed the spring +planting and the weather, and then inevitably, led by Hiram Higgins, had +resolved themselves into an "experience" meeting on the Patriarch--he, +Madison, as a minority leader of one, grudgingly conceding an occasional +point. The sessions had invariably ended the same way--Hiram Higgins, +with the back of his hand underneath his chin, would stroke earnestly +at his chin-whiskers, and remark: + +"Well, now, Mr. Madison, 'twon't do you a mite of harm to go out there +an' see for yourself. We've kinder got to look on you as one of us, an' +there ain't no use in you sufferin' around with what ails you when there +ain't no need of it." + +Madison's replies had been equally void of versatility--he would shake +his head doubtfully, while his cigar-case circulated around the group. + +Madison sniffed luxuriously at his thoroughbred Havana. He had passed +out of sight of the hotel window now, and he swung into a brisk walk. It +was a mile to the Patriarch's by a wagon track through the woods, that +led off from the road to the left just across the bridge. He had not +needed to ask directions. With magnificent inadvertence Hiram Higgins +had mentioned the exact way to reach the Patriarch's a dozen times, if +he had once. Also, by now, Madison had learned all that the town knew +about the Patriarch--which after all, he reflected with some +satisfaction, wasn't much. The Patriarch was over eighty years of age, +and he had come, deaf and dumb, to Needley sixty years ago--nobody knew +from where, nor his previous history, nor his name. They had called him +the Hermit at first, for immediately on his arrival he had gone out to +the shore of the ocean, away from the village, and built a crude hut +there for himself--which, in the after years, he had made into a more +pretentious dwelling. The cures had come "kinder gradual-like an' took +the folks mabbe forty years to get around to believin' in him real +serious," as Hiram Higgins put it; and then, as the Hermit grew old, and +the local reverence for him had become more deep-seated, they had +changed his name to the Patriarch. That was about all--but it seemed to +suit Madison, for his smile broadened. + +"I wonder," said he to himself, as he stepped onto the bridge to cross +the little river, "if I'm not dreaming--this is like being let loose in +the U.S. Treasury with nobody looking!" + +"Hullo, mister!" piped a young voice suddenly out of the dusk. + +"Hullo!" responded Madison mechanically--and turned to watch a small +figure, going in the opposite direction, thump by him on a crutch. +Madison stopped and stared after the cripple--and removed his cigar very +slowly from his lips. "That's that Holmes boy," he muttered. "I don't +know as he'd look well on the platform when the excursion trains get to +running. Wonder if I can't get a job for his father somewhere about a +thousand miles from here and have the family move!" + +The cripple disappeared down the road, and Madison, with a sort of +speculative flip to the ash of his cigar, resumed his way. Just across +the bridge he found the wagon track, and turned into it. It ran through +a thick wood of fir and spruce, and here, apart from now being able to +see but little before him--he had elected to "steal" away in the +darkness after supper--he found the going far from good. + +Half curiously, half whimsically, he tried to visualize the Patriarch +from the word pictures that had been painted around the stove in the +hotel office. The man would be old--of course. And to have lived alone +for sixty years, to have shunned human companionship he must have been +either mildly or violently insane to begin with, which would account for +his belief in himself as a healer--he would unquestionably, in some form +or other, "have bats in his belfry," as Pale Face Harry had put it. + +Madison's brows contracted as he went along. A man living by himself +under such conditions, with no incentive for the care of his person, not +even the pride engendered by the association of others, erudite as the +standard might be in his vicinity, was apt to grow very shortly into a +somewhat sorry spectacle. Give him sixty years of this and add an +unbalanced mind, and--Madison did not like the picture that now rose up +suddenly before him--a creature, bent, vapid of face, deaf and dumb, +frowsy of dress, and a world removed from the thought of a morning bath. +It might be picturesque in a way--but it wasn't a way Madison liked. +Somehow, he'd have to jerk the old chap out of his rut and get him +rigged up a little more becomingly, before the trusting public, simple +as they were, were invited down to see the exhibit. Madison's dramatic +instinct, which was developed to a keen sense of what the public craved +for, rebelled against any _faux pas_ in the scenic effects. He fell to +designing a costume that would more appropriately expound the rôle. + +"Got to give 'em something for their money," murmured John Garfield +Madison. "Some sort of long, flowing robe now, washed every day, sort of +Grecian effect with a rope girdle, bare feet and sandals--um-m--dunno +about the sandals--don't want to slop over, and besides"--Madison +grinned a little to himself--"he might kick!" + +Still reflecting, but arrived at no conclusion other than first to size +up the Patriarch and see how best to handle him, Madison reached the end +of the wagon track--and halted. + +It was a little lighter here, now that he had left the woods, and what +appeared to be a sweep of snow-covered lawn was before him. Around this, +forming a perfect square, was a row of full-grown, magnificent maples--a +regal hedge, as it were, bordering the four sides--planted sixty years +ago! Madison's imagination fired exhilarantly at the inspiring thought +of these in leaf--in another few weeks. He shook hands with himself +cordially. + +"Behold the amphitheater!" he said. "This is where we stage the greatest +act of the century!" + +Behind the row of trees, directly across the lawn in front of him, +loomed the dark shadow of a long, low, cottage-like building, and from a +window a light twinkled out between the tree trunks; while from beyond +again came the roll of surf, low, rhythmic, like the soft accompaniment +of orchestral music. + +"Wonderful!" breathed Madison. "I feel," said he, "as though I had just +had a drink!" + +He walked across the lawn, passed between the trees, and reached the end +of the cottage away from where the light showed in the window. + +"The Patriarch being deaf," he remarked, "I might as well explore." + +From the row of trees to the cottage was perhaps twenty feet. The door +of the cottage, porticoed with trellis-work, was in the center of the +cottage itself. Everywhere Madison turned were trellis-work frames for +flowers--the walls of the cottage were covered, literally covered, with +bare, slumbering shoots of Virginia creeper. In a little while now the +place would be a veritable paradise. Madison raised his hat reverently. + +"Fancy this on a New York stage!" said he esthetically, invoking the +universe. "Could you beat it! I could play the Patriarch myself with +this setting, and everybody would fall for it. There's nothing to it, +nothing to it, but his make-up--and I'll guarantee to take care of that. +And now we'll have a look at Aladdin's lamp and see just what kind of +rubbing up will invoke the genii!" + +Madison walked along the length of the cottage, past the door, and, as +he reached the lighted window, drew well away from the wall--and stared +inside. Surprise and incredulity swept across his features, and then his +face beamed and his gray eyes lighted with the fire of an artist who +sees the elusive imagery of the Great Picture at last transferred to +canvas, vivid, actual, transcending his wildest hopes. He was gazing +upon the sweetest and most venerable face he had ever seen. + +Here and there within upon the floor were strewn old-fashioned, round +rag mats that would enrapture a connoisseur, and the floor where it +showed between the mats was scrubbed to a glistening white. The +furnishings were few and homemade, but full of simple artistry--a chair +or two, and a table, upon which burned a lamp. In a fireplace, made of +stones cemented together, the natural effect unspoiled by any attempt to +hew the stones into uniformity, a log fire glowed, sputtered, and now +and then leaped cheerily into flame. + +Between the table and the fire, half turned toward Madison, sat the +Patriarch. He was reading, his head bent forward, his book held very +close to his eyes. Hair, a wealth of it, soft, silky and snow-white, +reached just below his coat collar--a silvery beard fell far below his +book. But it was the face itself, no single distinguishing feature, +neither the blue eyes, the sensitive lips, nor the broad, fine forehead, +that held Madison's gaze--it seemed to combine something that he had +never seen in a face before, and to look upon it was to be drawn +instantly to the man--there was purity of thought and act stamped upon +it with a seal ineffaceable, and there was gentleness there, and +sympathy, and trust, and a simple, unassuming dignity and +self-possession--and, too, there was a shadow there, a little of +sadness, a little of weariness, a background, a relief, as it were, a +touch such as a genius might conceive to lift the picture with his brush +into wondrous, lingering, haunting consonance. + +Madison's eyes, slowly, as though loath to leave the Patriarch's face, +travelled over the gray homespun suit that clothed the man, the white +wristbands of the home-washed shirt, unstarched, but spotlessly +clean--and his fancy of flowing, Grecian robes with rope girdles seemed +to hold him up to mockery as a crude and paltry bungler before the +perfect, unostentatious harmony of reality. + +"There's nothing to it!" whispered Madison softly to himself. "Nothing +to it! There isn't a thing left to do--not even a chance of making a +bluff at earning the money--it's just like _stealing_ it. Why, say, it +would get _me_ if I weren't behind the scenes--honest now, it would!" + +Madison drew back from the window and walked toward the door of the +cottage. + +"It should take me about fifteen minutes to establish myself on the +basis of a long-lost son with the Patriarch clinging confidingly around +my neck," he observed. "If it takes me any longer than that I'd feel +depressed every time I met myself in the looking-glass." + +He reached the cottage door, and, lifting the brass knocker that shone +dimly in the darkness, knocked once, lifted it to knock again--and his +hand fell away as he smiled a little foolishly. + +"I forgot the Patriarch was deaf," he muttered. "Wonder what you're +supposed to do? Walk right in, or--" + +The door swung suddenly wide open, and upon Madison's face, usually so +perfectly at its owner's control, came a look of stunned surprise. The +Patriarch was standing on the threshold, and, with a gesture of welcome, +was motioning him to enter. + + + + +--V-- + +A STRANGE CONVERSATION + + +Madison, quite in command of himself again in an instant, stepped, +smiling, into the cottage. He took the Patriarch's extended hand in a +cordial grip and nodded understandingly as the other, with quick, rapid +motions, touched lips and ears to signify that he could neither hear nor +speak. But, inwardly puzzled, Madison searched the Patriarch's face--was +the other playing a part? Could he _hear_, after all--and perhaps speak +as well, if he wanted to! There was certainly no guile in the venerable, +gentle face--or was it guile of a very high order? + +The Patriarch closed the door, and drawing his own armchair to the table +offered it to Madison with a courteous smile. + +Madison refused by gently forcing the old man into it himself, pulled +another up to face the Patriarch, sat down--and his eyes fixed suddenly +on the ceiling above his head. Swaying slowly back and forth was a sort +of miniature punkah of waving white canvas. He studied this for a +moment, then his eyes shifted to the Patriarch, who was regarding him +humorously. + +The Patriarch rose from his chair, walked to the door, opened it, moved +the knocker up and down--and pointed to the ceiling. The canvas was +waving violently now, and Madison traced the cord attachment, on little +pulleys, across the ceiling to where it ran through the door and was +affixed to the knocker without. It was very simple, even +primitive--every time the knocker was lifted the cord was pulled and the +canvas waved back and forth. Madison nodded his head and smiled +approvingly, as the Patriarch once more closed the door and resumed his +seat. + +Madison leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to stray, not +impertinently but with pleased endorsement, around the room, to permit +an unhampered opportunity for the scrutiny of the blue eyes which he +felt upon him. + +"And to think," he mused reproachfully, "that I could have doubted him +for a single instant--he certainly hung one on me that time." + +The Patriarch reached into the drawer of the table beside him, took out +a slate and pencil, scratched a few words on the slate and handed both +pencil and slate to Madison. + +"Your name is Madison, isn't it?" Madison read. "From New York? Hiram +told me about you." + +"Hiram," said Madison to himself, "is a man of many parts, and the most +useful man I have ever known. Hiram, by reflected glory, will some day +become famous." On the slate he replied: "Yes; that is my name--John +Madison. It was good of Mr. Higgins to speak of me." + +The Patriarch held the slate within a bare inch or two of his face, and +moved it back and forth before his eyes to follow the lines. As he +lowered it, Madison reached for it politely. + +"I am afraid you do not see very well," he scribbled. "Shall I write +larger?" + +Again the Patriarch deciphered the words laboriously; then he wrote, and +handed the slate to Madison. + +"I am going blind," he had written. "Please write as large as possible." + +"Blind!"--Madison's attitude and expression were eloquent enough not +only to be a perfect interpretation of his exclamation, but to convey +his shocked and pained surprise as well. + +The Patriarch bowed his head affirmatively, smiling a little wistfully. + +Madison impetuously drew his chair closer to the other, laid his hand +sympathetically upon the Patriarch's sleeve, and, with the slate upon +his knee, wrote with the other hand impulsively: + +"I am sorry--very, very sorry. Would you care to tell me about it?" + +The Patriarch's face lighted up while reading the slate, but he shook +his head slowly as he smiled again. + +"By _and_ by, if you wish," he wrote. "But first about yourself. You are +sick--and you have come to me for help?" + +The slate now passed from hand to hand quite rapidly. + +"Yes," wrote Madison. "Can you cure me?" + +"No," replied the Patriarch; "not in your present mental condition." + +"What do you mean?" asked Madison. + +"Your question itself implies that you are skeptical. While that state +of mind exists, I can do nothing--it depends entirely on yourself." + +"And if I put skepticism aside?" Madison's pencil demanded. "Can you +cure me then?" + +"Unquestionably," wrote the Patriarch, "if you really put it aside. +Faith is the simplest thing in the world and the most complex--but it is +fundamental. Without faith nothing is possible; with faith nothing is +impossible." + +Madison's gray eyes rested, magnificently thoughtful and troubled, upon +the Patriarch. + +"I have never thought much about it," he replied upon the slate, after a +tactful moment's pause. "But I believe that. There is something here, +about the place, about you that inspires confidence--I was prepared to +cling to my skepticism when I came in, but I do not feel that way now. +If only I knew you a little better, were with you a little more, I +believe I could have the faith you speak of." + +"How long do you remain in Needley?" the Patriarch wrote. + +Madison got up from his chair, went slowly to the fireplace, and, with +his back to the Patriarch, stood watching the crackling logs. + +"The old chap's no fool," he informed himself, "even if he is gone a +little in one particular. He certainly does believe in himself for fair! +Wonder where he got his education--notice the English he writes? And, +say--_going blind_! Fancy that! Santa Claus, you overwhelm me, you are +too bountiful, you are too generous--you'll have nothing left for the +next chimney! Deaf and dumb--and blind. Really, I do not deserve this--I +really don't--let me at least tip the hat-boy, or I'll feel mean." + +He turned gravely to the Patriarch; resuming his chair with an +expression on his face as one arrived at a weighty decision after a +mental battle with one's self. + +"I will stay here until I am cured. I put myself in your hands. What am +I to do?" he wrote quickly--and held out his hand almost anxiously for +the other's assent. + +The Patriarch smiled seriously as, after peering at the slate, he took +the outstretched hand and laid his other one unaffectedly upon Madison's +shoulder. + +"Be sure then that I can help you," wrote the Patriarch cheerfully. +"There is no course of treatment such as you may, perhaps, imagine. My +power lies in a perfect faith to help you once you, in turn, have faith +yourself--that is all. It is but the practical application of the old +dogma that mind is superior to matter. You must come and see me every +day, and we will talk together." + +"I will come--gladly," Madison replied; and, taking the slate, carefully +wiped off the writing--as he had previously wiped it off every time it +came into his hands--with a damp rag that the Patriarch had taken from +the table drawer when he had produced the slate and pencil. + +"This slate racket is the limit," said Madison to himself, as his pencil +began to move and screech again; "but I've got to get a little deeper +under his vest yet." + +He handed the slate to the Patriarch, and on it were the words: + +"Won't you tell me something of yourself, how you came to live here +alone, and your name, perhaps? I do not mean to presume, but I am deeply +interested." + +"There is never presumption in kindliness and sympathy," answered the +Patriarch. "But my name and story is buried in the past--perhaps when I +am gone those who care to know may know. I have not hurt you by refusing +to answer?" + +"No, indeed!" said Madison politely to himself. "The element of mystery +is one of the best drawing cards I know--it's got Needley going strong. +Far, far be it from me to tear the veil asunder. I mentioned it only as +a feeler." + +But upon the slate he wrote: + +"Far from being hurt, I respect your silence. But your eyes--you were to +tell me about them." + +The Patriarch's face saddened suddenly as he read the words. + +"I have made no secret of it," he wrote. "I have been going blind for +nearly a year now. The end, I am afraid, is very near--within a few +days, perhaps even to-morrow. I think I should not mind it much myself, +for I am very old and have not a great while longer to live in any case, +but for the time that is left it will mar my usefulness. I have been +able to help the people here and they have come to depend upon me--that +is my life. I trust I am not boastful if I say my greatest joy has been +in helping others." + +He had come to the bottom of the slate and held it out for Madison to +read; then wiped it off, and went on: + +"I have dreamed often of a wider field, of reaching out to help the +thousands beyond this little town--but I have realized that it could be +no more than a dream. I have been successful here because the people +believe in me and have unquestioning faith in me--to go outside amongst +strangers would only have been to be received as a charlatan and faker, +or as a poor deaf and dumb fool at best." + +Madison took the slate. + +"But if these thousands of others came to you--what then?" + +The Patriarch's face glowed. + +"It would be a wondrous joy," he wrote. "Too wondrous to dwell +upon--because it could never be. If they came I could help them, for +their very coming would be an evidence of faith--and faith alone is +necessary. Think of the joy of helping so many others--it is the fulness +of life. But let us not dream any more, friend Madison." + +"Of course," communed Madison, studying the illumined face, "he's +slightly touched in his upper story on the faith stunt; but he's in dead +earnest, and he's got the brotherhood-of-man bug bad. Come to think of +it, Hiram did say something about his 'sight failing,' but I didn't +think it was anything like this. If he's going to go finally blind in, +say, a week, perhaps it would be just as well to postpone the opening +night until he does." + +Madison took the slate. + +"Stranger things than that have happened," he wrote. "I never heard of +you before, yet I am one of the thousands beyond this little town and I +am here--why not the others?" + +The Patriarch shook his head sadly. + +"It is but a dream," he wrote. + +Madison held the slate in his hands for quite a long time before he +wrote again; his attitude one of sympathetic hesitancy as his eyes +played over the form and face before him, while the Patriarch smiled at +him with gentle, patient resignation. Back in Madison's fertile brain +the germ of an inspiration was developing into fuller life. + +"What will you do here alone when you are blind?" he asked--and his face +was disturbed and solicitous as he passed the Patriarch the slate. + +"I need very little," the Patriarch wrote back. "You must not worry +about me. My garden supplies nearly all my wants, and there are many in +the village, I am sure, who will help me with that when the snow is +gone." + +"I am quite certain of that," Madison's pencil agreed. "But here in the +house you cannot be alone--there are so many things to do, little things +that I am sure you have not thought of--some one must cook for you, for +instance. You will need a woman's hand here--have you no one, no +relative that you can call upon?" + +The Patriarch lowered the slate from his eyes, shook his head a little +pathetically, and began to write. + +"I do not think they would have cared to come, even if they were still +alive; but they are all gone many years ago--except perhaps a +grand-niece, and I do not know what has become of her." + +"Why, that's just the thing," wrote Madison. "Suppose we try to find +her?" + +Again the Patriarch shook his head. + +"I am afraid that would be impossible. I do not even know that she is +alive. I know only of her birth, and that is twenty years ago." + +"Even that is not hopeless," wrote Madison optimistically, and his face +as he looked at the Patriarch was seriously thoughtful. "Where was she +born?" + +"New York," the Patriarch answered. + +"And I never half appreciated the old town nor the fulness thereof until +I came to Needley!" said Madison plaintively to the toe of his boot, +while his hand scrawled the inquiry: "What is her name?" + +"Vail," wrote the Patriarch. "That was her father's name. She is my +grand-niece on her mother's side. I do not know what they christened +her." + +Madison once more, apparently deep in thought, sought refuge at the +fireplace, his hands plunged in his pockets, his shoulders drawn a +little forward, his back to the Patriarch. + +"Fiction," he assured a crack in the cement between two stones, "was +never, never like this. It seems to me that I remember the occurrence. +It had grown a little dim with the lapse of time, it is true; but now +that I recall it, it comes back with remarkable clearness. I am quite +sure they christened her--Helena. Helena Vail! Now isn't that a +perfectly lovely name for a novel! And she'll be so good to the dear old +chap too--washing and ironing and cooking for him--and stealing out into +the woodshed for a drag on her cigarette--_not_. No, my dear, not even +that--this is serious business." + +He turned, came back to his chair, picked up the slate, and wrote: + +"I have the fortune, or misfortune perhaps, to be what is commonly +called a rich man. Money, they say, will do anything, and if it will +I'll find this niece for you." + +The Patriarch's eyes grew moist as he read the words, and his hand +trembled a little with emotion as he held the pencil. + +"I cannot let you do that," he protested. "You are very kind, and it +seems almost as though you had been brought to me providentially at the +end of long years of loneliness for a purpose, when my hour of +helplessness was near; but, indeed, I have no right to allow you to do +this." + +"They tell me in the village," wrote Madison in reply, "that you have +always refused to accept a penny for anything you have ever done for +them. I have no doubt you would equally refuse to accept anything from +me for what you may do, and I should hesitate to offer it however much I +felt indebted, but this is something that you must let me do. It will +make me feel more--how shall I say it?--more as though I had a right to +the privilege of coming here." + +The Patriarch wiped his still moist eyes before he answered. + +"What can I say to you? It does not seem right that I should let a +stranger do so much, and yet it seems that I should not say no +because--" + +Madison was bending over the slate, reading as the other wrote, and he +took the pencil gently from the Patriarch's hand. + +"You must not look on me any longer as a stranger," he wrote. "Let us +just consider that it is all arranged--only I would strongly advise +making no mention of it until we make sure that she is alive." + +"I think nothing should be said," agreed the Patriarch. "For even if you +found her she might not care to come--I have little here to offer a +young girl--few comforts--the care of a blind man who is deaf and dumb." + +"We'll see about that when we find her"--Madison smiled brightly at the +Patriarch, as he wrote. "Now that's settled for the time being, isn't +it?" + +The dumb lips moved and both hands reached out to Madison. + +Madison took them in a firm, strong, reassuring clasp, then shook his +finger in a sort of playfully emotional embarrassment, excellently well +done, at the Patriarch--and picked up the slate again. + +"It is getting late," he wrote, "and I must not tire you out. I am +afraid you will think I am far more inquisitive than I have any right to +be, but there is one more question that I would like to ask--may I?" + +The Patriarch nodded his head, and laid his hand on Madison's sleeve in +a quaint, almost affectionate way. + +"It is about your education. You came here sixty years ago, and you have +lived alone. You could have had but few advantages, with your handicap, +previous to that, and yet you write and use such perfect English." + +"The answer is very simple," replied the Patriarch on the slate. "Until +within the last year, I have read largely. Would you care to look at my +books? They are there in the nook on the other side of the fireplace." + +Madison, promptly and full of interest, rose from his chair, passed +around the fireplace, and halted before a row of shelves set in against +the wall. + +"I pass," Madison admitted to himself after a moment, during which his +eyes roved over the well chosen classics. "I've heard of one or two of +these before--casually. I've an idea that if the Patriarch's got all +this inside his gray matter, it's just as well for the Flopper, for Pale +Face Harry, for Helena and yours truly that he's deaf and dumb--and will +be blind." + +Madison came back to the Patriarch with beaming face, and picked up the +slate. + +"I read a great deal myself," he wrote. "It is a pleasure to find _real_ +books here. May I, during my stay in Needley, look upon them in a little +way as my own library?" + +"You are very welcome indeed," the Patriarch answered. + +"Thank you," wrote Madison. "And now, surely, I must go"--he smiled at +the Patriarch. + +"Come to-morrow," invited the Patriarch. "I would like to show you all +around my little place here." + +"Indeed, I will," Madison scratched upon the slate, "and do you know +that somehow, since I came here to-night, I feel a sense of relief, a +sort of guarantee that everything is going to be all right with me in +the future." + +The Patriarch smiled quietly, almost tolerantly. + +"I know that," he wrote. "Keep your mind free of doubt, be optimistic +and cheerful as regards yourself, nourish the faith that has already +taken root and that I feel responds to mine; keep in the open air and +take plenty of exercise." + +Slowly, with an apparently abstracted air, Madison read the slate, +wiped it carefully, laid it down, and then held out his hand. + +"Good-night!" he nodded warmly. + +The Patriarch, still with the quiet smile upon his lips, rose from his +armchair, and, keeping his clasp on Madison's hand, led Madison to the +door, opened it, and with a gesture at once courtly and affectionate +bade his guest good-night. + +Madison crossed the lawn at a thoughtful pace, turned into the wagon +track, and, in the shelter of the woods now, whimsically felt his pulse; +then, lighting a cigar, tramped on with a buoyant stride. + +"There's only one answer, of course," he mused. "The Patriarch's got a +brain kink on faith--it's the natural outcome of living alone for sixty +years. Outside of that and his books, he's as simple and innocent and +trusting as a babe. I suppose the thing's kind of grown on him--Hiram +said it had taken forty years--which isn't sudden unless you say it +quick. Hanged if I don't like the old sport though, and if Helena isn't +the best ever to him I'll stop her chewing gum allowance." Madison +looked up through the arched, leafless branches overhead. "Beautiful +night, isn't it?" said he pleasantly. + +A little later he reached the main road and paused a moment on the +bridge, as though to sum up the thoughts and imaginings that had +occupied him on the way along. + +"It's a queer world," said John Garfield Madison profoundly to the +turbid little stream that flowed beneath his feet. "I wonder why some +of us are born with brains--and some are born just plain damned fools!" + +He went on again, arrived at the Congress Hotel, and, discovering +through the window that the leading citizens of Needley were still in +session, negotiated the back entrance. On the way upstairs he +stumbled--quite inadvertently--and stopped to listen. + +"There he be now," announced Hiram Higgins' voice excitedly. "Goin' up +to his room to meditate. Knew he'd come back feelin' like that. I be +goin' out there to-morrow to see the Patriarch myself." + +Madison smiled, mounted the remaining stairs, entered his room, and +lighted his lamp. + +"Having got my hand in at writing," he remarked, "I guess I'd better +keep it up and write Helena--Vail." + +He extracted a pad of writing paper and an envelope from the tray of his +trunk, his fountain pen from his pocket, and, drawing his chair to the +table and laying down his cigar reluctantly at his elbow, began to +write. At the end of fifteen minutes, he tilted back his chair, +relighted the stub of his cigar, and critically read over his epistle. + +"Dear Kid," it ran. "Do not be anxious about me--I am feeling better +already. Have had my first treatment, and am now eating fried eggs and +ham regularly three times a day. A Sunday-school picnic taking to +washboilers full of thin coffee and the left-over cakes kindly +contributed by Deacon Jones' household, is nothing to the way the boobs +will take to the Patriarch--who has kindly consented to go blind to make +our thorny paths as smooth as possible for us. + +"Do you get that, Helena--he's going blind! In just a few days, my dear, +you will be with me, have patience. The meteorological bureau is a +little hazy yet on the exact date of the total eclipse, but it's due to +happen any minute. Now listen. Your name is Helena Vail. You're the +Patriarch's grand-niece, and you're coming to live alone with him and +soothe his declining years; but you can't come yet because I've got to +find you first, and besides, until he's blind, he'll stick to a nasty +habit he's got of asking questions on his little slate. You needn't have +any hesitation about coming on the score of propriety, I assure you it +is perfectly proper--he is running Methuselah pretty near a dead heat. +And, as far as the town is concerned, apart from the fact that you are a +grand-niece, orphaned, you don't have to know anything about yourself, +either--that's part of the Patriarch's dark, mysterious past, where the +lights go out and the fiddles get rickets. + +"That's about all. I'll let you know when to come. Remember me to Mr. +Coogan and Harry, and keep my picture under your pillow. Ever thine, +J.G.M." + +Madison picked up his pen again and added another line: + +"P.S. Better buy a cook-book." + +He folded the pages, inserted them in the envelope, sealed the envelope +and addressed it to Miss Helena Smith--street and number not far from +the tenderloin district of New York. + +Then Madison yawned pleasantly, tucked the letter in his pocket--and +prepared for bed. + + + + +--VI-- + +OFFICIALLY ENDORSED + + +Ten days had passed, bringing with them many changes. The snow was gone, +and the warm, balmy airs of springtime had brought the buds upon the +trees almost to leaf. It seemed indeed a new land, and one now full of +charm and delight--the desolate, straggling hamlet, once so barren, +frozen and hopeless looking, was now a quaint, alluring little village +nestling picturesquely in its hollow, framed in green fields and +majestic woods. Quiet, restful, peaceful it was--like a dream place, +untroubled. Upon the farms about men plowed their furrows, calling to +each other and to their horses; in the homes the doors and windows were +thrown hospitably wide to the sweet, fresh, vernal airs, and the thrifty +housewives were busy at their cleaning. + +And there had been other changes, too. The ten days had found Madison +more and more a constant visitor, and finally a most intimate one, at +the Patriarch's cottage--while to the circle in the hotel office his +voice no longer rose in even feeble protest, he was one of them. And, +perhaps most vital change of all, the Patriarch was nearly blind--so +nearly blind that conversation now was limited to but little more than +a single word at a time upon the slate. + +It was morning, in the Patriarch's sitting-room, and Madison was seated +in his usual place beside the table facing the other. For upwards of an +hour, it had taken him that long, he had been engaged, having decided +that the time was ripe, in telling the Patriarch that his grand-niece +had been found and that now it was only necessary to write and ask her +to come to Needley. + +The Patriarch's fine old face was aglow with pleasure as he finally +understood. Letter writing was beyond him now, a thing of the past, so +upon the slate he scrawled: + +"You write." + +Madison shook his head; and again with gentle patience explained that +perhaps it would be better if the letter came from some one holding an +official position in the village, rather than from one who, even in an +abstract way, would be unknown to her--the postmaster, for instance. + +And the Patriarch, patting Madison's sleeve gratefully, agreed. + +Out in the garden behind the cottage, where for the first time in sixty +seasons the work must be done by other hands, Hiram Higgins, the +volunteer for the moment, was busy at his "spell." + +Madison stepped to the door and called him in. + +"Mr. Higgins," he said, "the Patriarch has just told me that he has a +grand-niece living in New York, and he wants you to write to her and ask +her to come to him." + +"Be that so!" exclaimed Mr. Higgins, gazing earnestly at the Patriarch. +"Well, 'tain't no surprise to me--always calc'lated he must have folks +somewheres. An' I'm right glad now he needs 'em he's made up his mind to +have 'em come. Wants me to write, does he?" + +"He can't write any more himself," said Madison. "He seems to think that +you, as the postmaster, as well as the town police official, are the +proper person to do it--and I quite agree with him." + +"So I be," declared Mr. Higgins importantly. "I'll write it on the town +paper, an' comin' from the postmaster there won't be no doubt in her +mind that it's any of them bunco games or the lurin' of young women away +such as I've read about, for I reckon perhaps she ain't never heerd of +him before--never knew _him_ to write a letter, an' I calc'late to see +most everything that goes out." + +Mr. Higgins picked up the slate and wrote the word "grand-niece?" upon +it in enormous characters; then, amplifying his interrogation by many +gestures of his hands, deft from long practice, he held the slate up to +the Patriarch. + +The Patriarch nodded, and Hiram Higgins nodded back encouragingly. + +"Where be her address?" Mr. Higgins inquired of Madison. + +Madison stepped to the bookshelves out of view of the Patriarch around +the fireplace, but in full view of Mr. Higgins, and, reaching down the +Bible from the topmost shelf, extracted from inside its cover the aged, +yellow slip of paper that he had deposited there when he had entered the +cottage that morning, and on which was inscribed Helena's name and +address in a stiff, old-fashioned, angular hand resembling the +Patriarch's--an effect that Madison had stayed up half the night to +produce. + +"I guess this must be it," he said. "He said it was here--we'll make +sure though"--and he handed it to the Patriarch. + +Long and painfully the Patriarch studied it, anxiously deciphering the +words that he had never seen before, anxious to know all and whatever +this might tell him about his niece--then again he nodded his head and +expressed his gratitude by, patting Madison's sleeve. + +Madison's smile modestly disavowed any thanks, as he passed the slip to +Mr. Higgins. + +"Reckon that be it," Mr. Higgins agreed. "An' now, I guess I'll go right +back to town an' write it--I allow that the sooner we get her down here +the better. Folks'll be glad to hear this--the women folks was figurin' +on takin' spells an' helpin' out in the house same as the men in the +garden--'pears now there won't be no need of it." + +Madison accompanied Mr. Higgins outside and helped him to harness up. + +"Look here, Mr. Madison," said Hiram Higgins, as he made ready to go and +climbed into the democrat, "would you allow that the Patriarch's goin' +blind was goin' to interfere any with his power of curin' folks? It'll +be a powerful blow to the town if it does." + +"Why, of course not!" said Madison decisively. "Certainly not! Indeed, I +wouldn't be surprised if it enhanced his power--it's purely mental, you +know. They say that the loss of any one or more of the senses generally +tends to make the others only the more acute--it's the--er--law of +compensation." + +"Glad to hear you say so," said Mr. Higgins, with a sigh of relief, +"'cause I got another letter to write 'sides this one for the Patriarch. +It come last night, an' I was figurin' on speakin' to you about it." Mr. +Higgins dropped the reins on the dashboard, and dove into first one +pocket and then another. "Shucks!" said he disgustedly. "Now if I ain't +gone an' left it to home after all. But I dunno as it makes much +difference. It was from a fellow up your way by the name of Michael +Coogan, an' was addressed to the postmaster. 'Pears he read a piece in +the papers about the Patriarch which he sent along with the letter. +Allows he's been ailin' quite a spell, though he don't say what's the +matter with him, an' wants to know if what's in that piece is all gospel +truth, 'cause if 'tis he's comin' down. That's why I'm right glad to +have heerd you say what you just said. Bein' postmaster an' writin' +'fficially, I got to be conscientious and pretty partic'lar." + +"Yes, of course--naturally," said Madison. "And what are you going to +say to him?" "Why," returned Mr. Higgins, "there ain't no trouble about +it now. Goin' to tell him that if the Patriarch can't help him there +ain't nobody on earth can--thought of mentionin' your name, too." + +"By all means," assented Madison cordially. "I feel like a new man since +I've come here. I only wish more people knew about the Patriarch--it +makes your heart ache to think of the suffering and sickness that people +endure so hopelessly when there isn't any need of it." + +"Yes, so it do," said Mr. Higgins. He picked up the reins. "So it do," +he said heartily. + +Madison watched the democrat as it started off behind the ambling +horse--watched with a sort of fascination at the inebriate, sideways +stagger of the wheels, a sort of wonder that the rear ones didn't shut +up like a jack-knife under the body of the vehicle and the democrat +promptly sit down on its tail-board; then, smiling, he walked back into +the cottage. The Patriarch was still sitting in the armchair beside the +table. Madison halted before the other. + +"Well," said he confidentially to the Patriarch, "that's settled and I +don't mind admitting that it's a load off my mind. I hate to think of +what we'd have done without Hiram Higgins--in fact, it distresses me to +think of it. Let us think of something else. Day after to-morrow +Helena'll be along. Helena is the one and only--but you'll find that out +for yourself. I don't mind telling you though that she wears a number +two shoe, and you can guess the rest without any help from me. Then a +day or so later the Flopper and Pale Face Harry'll be along--you'll +enjoy them--things aren't going to be a bit slow from now on. I expect +the Flopper will bring some friends with him, too, so's to make a nice +little house-party--I wrote him about it, and--" Madison stopped +abruptly. + +The Patriarch, evidently catching a movement of Madison's lips, was +gesticulating violently toward his ears, while he smiled half +tolerantly, half protestingly. + +Madison nodded quickly and smiled deprecatingly in return. + +"By Jove!" he said apologetically. "I always keep forgetting that you +can't hear. I was suggesting that perhaps you might like to go for a +walk--Mr. Higgins says it's a fine day." Madison picked up the slate and +in huge letters that sprawled from one end of the slate to the other +wrote the word: "WALK?" + +The Patriarch rose from his chair with a pleased expression, and Madison +helped him solicitously to the door. + +They passed out into the sunshine and headed for the beach--the +Patriarch, erect and strong, guiding himself with his hand on Madison's +arm. + +Reaching the beach, the Patriarch paused and turned his face toward the +ocean, while he drew in great breaths of the invigorating air--and +Madison involuntarily stepped a little aside to look at the other +critically, as one might seek a vantage ground from which to view a +picture in all its variant lights and shades. Against the crested, +breaking surf, the fume-sprayed ledges of rock, the Patriarch stood out +a majestic, almost saintly figure--tall, stately, grand with the true +grandeur of simplicity, simple in dress, simple in attitude and mien, +patience, sweetness and trust illumining his face, his silver-crowned +head thrown back. + +"I can shut my eyes," said Madison softly, "and see the Flopper being +cured right now--and the Flopper couldn't help it if he wanted to!" + + + + +--VII-- + +THE PATRIARCH'S GRAND-NIECE + + +It was Hiram Higgins who introduced Helena Vail to Madison, two days +later. Madison had led the Patriarch outside the door of the cottage as +the sound of wheels announced the expected arrival, and was waiting for +her as Mr. Higgins drove up in the democrat. Helena, marvelously garbed, +in the extreme of fashion, was demurely surveying her surroundings; +while Mr. Higgins was very evidently excited and not a little flustered. +A huge trunk and two smaller ones occupied the rear of the democrat, +with the dismantled back seat lashed on top of them. + +Madison, leaving the Patriarch, hastened forward politely. + +"Mr. Madison," said Hiram Higgins importantly, "this be the Patriarch's +grand-niece come to stay with him." + +From under a picture hat, Helena's eyes smiled down at Madison. + +"Oh, I am so glad to meet you, Mr. Madison," she said cordially. "Mr. +Higgins has been telling me about you, and how good you have been to +my--my grand-uncle." + +"You are very kind to say so, Miss Vail," responded Madison modestly. +"May I help you down?" + +She gave him a daintily gloved hand, exposed a daintily stockinged ankle +as she placed her foot a little hesitantly on the wheel, and jumped +lightly to the ground. + +"That," she said quickly and a little anxiously for Mr. Higgins' ears, +indicating the Patriarch, "that is my grand-uncle there, I am sure." + +"Yes," said Madison, leading her toward the Patriarch. "And he has been +looking forward very anxiously all day to your arrival--it seemed as +though the afternoon would never come for him." + +"Gee!" said Helena under her breath. "I had the rubes in the village on +the run--you ought to have seen them stare as the chariot drove along." + +"I don't wonder," said Madison softly. "The sun's rather strong down +here, Helena, and if you're not careful you'll scorch your neck with +those burning-glasses you've got in your ears." + +"Don't I look nice?" demanded Helena, with a pout. + +"You bet you do!" said Madison earnestly. "You've got the swellest thing +on Broadway beaten from Forty-Second Street to the Battery. Now, here +you are"--they had halted before the Patriarch. + +The venerable face was turned toward them, as though by instinct the +Patriarch knew that they were there--and his hands were held out in +greeting. + +Helena clasped them firmly, and submitted sweetly as the Patriarch drew +her into his arms. + +The Patriarch released her after an instant, and his hands, in lieu of +eyes, reaching out to search her face, came bewilderingly in contact +with the picture hat. + +Helena, a little uncertainly, looked at Madison. + +"Is he _all_ blind?" she whispered. + +"Quite blind," said Madison sadly. + +Helena's face clouded a little, and into the brown eyes crept a strange, +sudden, sympathetic look. + +"Doc," she said, "it--it isn't fair. It's a shame--he can't fight back." + +"One error to you, Miss Vail," said Madison pleasantly. "Eliminate the +'Doc.' Don't shed tears, you're down here to be sweet to him, aren't +you--well, get into the game." + +Helena turned from Madison, and, impulsively taking the Patriarch's +groping hands, guided them to her cheeks and held them there. + +"Lucky dog!" observed Madison; then, raising his voice: "I am sure you +would like to be alone together, Miss Vail--perhaps you will take him +into the cottage. If you will excuse me, I'll help Mr. Higgins with the +trunks." + +Madison turned and walked over to where Mr. Higgins, beside the democrat +with a handful of chin whiskers, was observing the scene. + +"Fine girl!" declared Mr. Higgins, as Helena, with the Patriarch's arm +in hers, disappeared inside the cottage. "'Pears she must have money, +an' I'm right glad 'count of the Patriarch--said her father an' mother +was dead an' she was alone in the world--them jewels she wore must have +cost a pile. Reckon she's been used to livin' kinder different from the +way folks down here do--hope 'tain't goin' to be so hard on her she +won't want to stay." + +"I was thinking about that myself," said Madison gravely, knotting his +brows as he nodded his head. "There's no doubt it will be a big change +for her, but I imagine she had some sort of an idea what to expect--it +is certainly greatly to her credit that she would give up her own +interests unselfishly and come here to devote her life to the care of a +relative whom she had never seen before. I've an idea that the girl who +would do that is the kind of a girl who's got grit enough to see it +through." + +"So she be," said Mr. Higgins heartily. "Ain't every one 'ud do it--not +by a heap!" + +"I'll give you a hand with the trunks," said Madison thoughtfully. + +They carried the large trunk between them into the cottage and, as +Helena called to them, down the little hallway past what Madison knew to +be the Patriarch's bedroom, and stopped before the next door, which was +open. Madison remembered the room, when nearly two weeks ago now the +Patriarch had shown him through the cottage, as a sort of store-room +full of odds and ends. Mr. Higgins, too, evidently had known it only in +that guise, for he whistled softly and reached for his whiskers. + +"Well now, if that ain't right smart of the Patriarch!" he exclaimed. +"Real set he must have been on makin' you feel to home, Miss Vail--an' +never said a word to no one, neither." + +"Yes," said Helena, "isn't it pretty? And did he really fix this up for +me all by himself?"--she was looking at Madison, as she stood in the +center of the room beside the Patriarch. + +"Must have," said Madison, surveying the room. + +It wasn't luxurious, the little chamber, nor was there over much of +furniture, nor was that even of a high order--there was a bed with a +red-checkered crazy-quilt; a washstand with severe, heavy white +crockery; a rocking chair, homemade, of hickory; a rag mat, round, +many-colored; and white muslin curtains on the windows. It wasn't +luxurious, the little chamber--it was fresh and sweet and clean. + +Upon the Patriarch's face was a sort of pleased expectancy, and Helena +promptly took his arm and pressed it affectionately. + +"Isn't it perfectly dear of him!" she said softly. "To think of him +going to all this trouble for me when he could scarcely see!" + +"Well, 'tain't no more'n you deserve," said Mr. Higgins gallantly, as he +slewed the trunk around against the wall. "I'll lug them other trunks +in myself, ain't but small ones, they ain't"--and he hurried from the +room, as though fearful that Madison might secure a share in the honors. + +"I guess you've made a hit with Mr. Higgins, Helena," observed Madison, +with a grin. + +"Have I?" returned Helena absently; then abruptly: "This is a real nice +lay you've steered me into, John Madison." + +"Yes; not bad," said Madison complacently. "Bring your uncle into the +front room, Helena; and then you can get Hiram to show you the well and +the old oaken bucket and where the pantries and cupboards are, he knows +more about them than I do--it's pretty near time for you to be thinking +about getting supper." + +"Are you going to stay for it?" inquired Helena pertly. + +"For the first attempt!" ejaculated Madison, with a wry face. "Good +Heavens, no! I'm just convalescing from a serious illness." + +In the front room Madison settled himself to a study of the Patriarch's +beaming, happy face, while Helena under Mr. Higgins' attentive guidance +explored the cottage. + +"D'ye know, old chap," he said, and leaned across the table to touch the +Patriarch's hand, "I feel like a blooming philanthropist. An outsider +might think I was playing you pretty low and taking advantage of you, +and even Helena's got a budding hunch that way it seems--but just think +of the mess you'd have been in if it wasn't for me, just think of the +good you're going to do, and just look at yourself and see how pleased +and happy you look." + +The Patriarch smiled responsively to the touch upon his hand. + +"Of course you are," said Madison affably. + +Presently there came the sound of an axe busily at work, and a moment +later Helena came laughingly into the room. + +"He's filling up the wood-box," she explained, and darting across to +Madison put her arms around his neck. "Aren't you going to tell me +you're glad to see me?" she whispered coyly. "Oh, I've been longing so +for you! Kiss me"--she held out tempting little red lips, invitingly +pursed up. + +"Nix on that!" said Madison, smiling but firm, as he disengaged her +arms. "Soft pedal, Helena, my dear." + +"But he can't see or hear," pouted Helena. + +"I should hope not!" said Madison, with a gasp. "But you never know who +else might, or when they might--we begin right, and run no risks--see? +People have a charming habit of dropping around informally +here--everybody's at home." + +"Don't you love me any more?" inquired Helena, unconvinced, and still +pouting. + +"Of course, I do!" asserted Madison, laughing at her. "Don't be a goose, +Helena. You remember what I told you all in the Roost, don't you? Well, +I haven't been living in a Maine village ten days or two weeks for +nothing, and what I said then goes now more than ever. Now, don't get +sore, kid--there's a big stake up, and if we're going to play the game +we've got to play it to the limit. We live perfectly, ultra-proper, +decent lives, mentally, morally, physically, till we beat it out of here +for keeps." + +"Ain't we going to have a nice time!" murmured Helena sarcastically. + +"Oh, cheer up!" said Madison. "It may be quiet for a day or two--but not +much longer than that. Now tell me about the Flopper and Pale Face +before Higgins gets back--have they got things straight? And pat your +uncle's hand while you talk, Helena--get the habit." + +"I don't have to get the habit," said Helena a little crossly, perching +herself on the arm of the Patriarch's chair and taking his hand. "I +think he's a perfect dear, and for us to sit here and take advantage of +him when he trusts us is--" + +"Now cut that out," said Madison cheerfully. "Think of those gondolas in +Venice when we get through with this--that'll make you feel better. Go +on about the Flopper and Pale Face--can the Flopper speak any English +yet?" + +Helena laughed in spite of herself. + +"I've had a dream of a time with him," she said. "He's broken his neck +trying, at any rate; and he's not so bad as he was--quite." + +"Good!" said Madison. "And?" + +"I read them your last letter saying they were to come together and work +the train on the way down," she continued. "The Flopper got the +postmaster's letter, too." + +"How did it size up as a testimonial?" inquired Madison. + +Helena's dark eyes flashed with amusement. + +"Lovely!" + +"Too thick--fishy?" asked Madison. + +"Oh, no," said Helena, "not if you have faith--just strong. It's all +right, though; I told him he could use it--it's a drawing card in +itself, for some of them would be curious enough to get off and see the +finish. Everything is all fixed--they'll be here to-morrow." + +"Good girl!" said Madison approvingly. "We'll pull it off out there on +the lawn where all the multitude can see--you'll have to lead his nibs +out and guide him to the Flopper while the hush falls and you look kind +of scared--you know the lay. There's no one can touch you when it comes +to playing up to the house. And now, there's just one thing more--you'll +need some one around here to help you and keep an eye on the offerings +when they begin to come in. Well, that's the Flopper's rôle in the +second act--see? Overwhelmed with gratitude at his cure, he attaches +himself to the Patriarch with dog-like fidelity--beautiful thought!--get +the idea? And--" + +"Hush!" cautioned Helena. "Here's Mr. Higgins coming." + +"All right," said Madison, rising and moving to the door. "I'm going +now, then--guess you understand. See you in the morning for the final +touches. Tell Mr. Higgins I'm waiting outside for him to drive me home." +He raised his voice. "Good afternoon, Miss Vail," he said, and stepped +out onto the lawn. + + + + +--VIII-- + +IN WHICH THE BAIT IS NIBBLED + + +There was a group around the Flopper on the Portland platform beside the +Bar Harbor express; some wore pitying expressions, others smiled a +little tolerantly--Pale Face Harry, from the circle, sneered openly. + +"Nutty!" he coughed, and touched his forehead. "Nothing doing in the +upper story--some one ought to look after him." + +The Flopper, a crippled thing on the ground, fixed Pale Face Harry with +a pointed forefinger. + +"Youse don't look like you had many weeps to spare for anybody but +yerself--yer fallin' to pieces," said the Flopper. "I didn't ask you nor +any of youse to butt in--I was talkin' to dis lady here"--he motioned +toward a young woman in a wheeled, invalid chair, who, between a trained +nurse on one side and a gentleman on the other, was regarding him with a +startled expression in her eyes. + +She turned now and spoke to the gentleman beside her. + +"Robert," she said, in a low, anxious tone, "do you think that--that +there can be anything in it?" + +"Have you lost your head, Naida?" the man laughed. "The age of miracles +has passed." + +"But he is so _sure_," she whispered. + +"Poppycock!" said her companion contemptuously. + +The Flopper, in good, if unfashionable and ready-made clothes, fresh +linen, and a clean shave, turned a bright, intelligent face on the man +at this remark. + +"I guess youse are de kind," he said, with a grim smile, "dat ain't had +to kill yerself worryin' much about any kind of trouble, an' it ain't +nothin' to you to cut de ground of hope out from another guy's feet an' +let him slide. Mabbe you think I'm nutty too, because I know I'm goin' +to be cured--but it don't hurt you none to have me think so, does it? +Mabbe someday you might like to hope a little yerself, an' if--" + +"'Board! All aboard!"--the conductor's voice boomed down the platform. + +The young woman leaned forward in her chair toward the Flopper. + +"I know what it is to hope," she said softly. "Will you come back into +our car after awhile? I'd like to have you tell me more about this. +Please do." + +"Sure," said the Flopper amiably. "Sure, mum, I will, if youse wants me +to." + +The crowd broke up, hurrying for the train; and the Flopper, dragging a +valise along beside him, jerked himself toward the steps. + +"Swipe me, if I ain't got a bite already!" said the Flopper to himself. +"An' outer a private car, too--wouldn't dat bump you! An' say, wait till +you see de Doc t'row up his dukes when he listens to me handin' out me +sterilized English!" + +The brakeman and a kindly-hearted fellow passenger helped the Flopper +into the train--and thereafter for an hour or more, in a first class +coach, the Flopper held undisputed sway. The passengers, flocking from +the other cars, filled the aisle and seriously interfered with the +lordly movements of the train crew, challenging the conductor's +authority with passive indifference until that functionary, exasperated +beyond endurance, threatened to curtail the ride the Flopper had paid +for and put him off at the next station--whereat the passive attitude of +the passengers vanished. The American public is always interested in a +novelty, and on occasions is not to be gainsaid--the American public, as +represented by the patrons of the Bar Harbor express, was interested at +the moment in the Flopper, and they passed the conductor from hand to +hand--it was the only way he could have got through the car--and +deposited him outside in the vestibule to tell his troubles to the +buffer-plate. + +The Flopper was in deadly, serious earnest; there was no doubt, no +possible room for doubt on that score--one had but to look at the flush +upon his cheeks and note the ring of conviction in his voice. Even Pale +Face Harry's gibes and sneers melted before the unshakable assurance, +and he became, with reservations, noticeably impressed. + +A metropolitan newspaper man was struck with the idea of a humorous +series of articles to pay for his vacation, entitled, "Characters I Have +Met In Maine"--and forthwith, perched on the back of the seat behind the +Flopper, proceeded to sketch out the first one, with the mental +determination to get off at Needley for the local color necessary to its +climax. + +A soap drummer nudged a fellow drummer whose line was lingerie. + +"Ever do Needley?" he grinned. + +The lingerie exponent had a sense of humor--he grinned back. + +"My house is everlastingly rubbing it into me to open up new territory," +said the soap salesman. + +"Me too," responded the white-goods man. + +"Needley," said he of the soap persuasion, "would be virgin soil for any +drummer." + +"I'd like to see the finish," said the lingerie man--still grinning. + +"Well?" inquired the soap man--still grinning. "What do you say?" + +"You bet!" said the man with eight trunks full of daintiness in the +baggage car ahead. "It's Needley for ours--you're on!" + +The Flopper was an artist--and he was in his glory. Where his position +was indubitably weak, he side-stepped with the frank admission that he +knew no more than they. He knew only one thing, and that was the only +thing he cared about, the rest made no odds to him, he was going down to +Needley to be cured--and he let them see Mr. Higgins' letter. + +A porter from the rear car squirmed and wriggled his way down to the +seat occupied by the Flopper. + +"Mistah Tho'nton, sah," he announced importantly, "would like to see you +in his private car, if you could done make it convenient, sah." + +"Sure!" said the Flopper. + +The passengers crowded up, standing on the seats and arm-rests, to make +room for the Flopper to crawl down the aisle, while the porter preceded +him to open the doors. + +Through the car in the rear of the one he had occupied, the regular +parlor car, the Flopper, a piteous spectacle, made his way--chairs +turned, the occupants craned their necks after the deformed and broken +creature, while smothered exclamations and little cries of sympathy from +the women followed him along. The Flopper's eyes never lifted from the +strip of carpet before him, but his lips moved. + +"Gee!" he muttered. "Dis has de gape-wagon skun a mile. Wish I could +pass de hat--I'd make de killin' of me young life. Pipe de hydrogen hair +on de gran'mother wid de sparkler on her thumb an' weeps in her eyes, +an' look at de guy wid de yellow gloves rolled back on his wrists to +heighten de intelligint look on his face, dat she's kiddin'--I could +play dem to a fare-thee-well if I only had de chanst. Oh, gee!"--the +Flopper sighed--"an' I got to let it go!" + +With regret still poignantly affecting him, the Flopper passed on into +the private car, and the porter ushered him into a sort of combination +observation and sitting-room compartment. The Flopper's eyes lifted and +made a quick, comprehensive tour of his surroundings. The young woman +who had spoken to him on the platform was reclining on a couch; the +nurse sat on the foot of the couch; and the man was tilted back in an +armchair against the window. + +The young woman raised herself to a sitting posture and held out her +hand. + +"I am Mrs. Thornton," she said, with a smile. "This is my husband, and +this is Miss Harvey, my nurse. It was very good of you to come, Mr.--?" +she paused invitingly. + +"Coogan," supplied the Flopper. "Michael Coogan." + +"Let me offer you a chair, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton, a little +ironically, pushing one toward the Flopper. "Or would you be more +comfortable on the floor?" + +The Flopper's eyelids fell--covering a quick, ugly glint. + +"T'anks!" he said--and swung himself, by his arms, into the chair. + +"I want you to tell me all about this strange man in Needley, and how +you came to hear of him and believe in him," said Mrs. Thornton. "I was +only able to get just the barest outline of it out there on the +platform with the crowd around." + +"Dat's easy," said the Flopper earnestly. "Sure, I'll tell you. I saw a +piece about dis Patriarch in one of de Noo Yoik papers, so I writes to +de postmaster of de town to find out if he was on de level--see?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Thornton. "And what did the postmaster say?" + +The Flopper took Hiram Higgins' letter from his pocket and handed it to +Mrs. Thornton. + +"Youse can read it fer yerself, mum," he said, with an air of one +delivering a final and irrefutable argument. + +Mrs. Thornton read the letter carefully, almost anxiously. + +"If only a part of this is true," she said wistfully, passing it to her +husband, "it is perfectly wonderful." + +Mr. Thornton read it--with a grin. + +"I don't know, I am sure," he observed caustically, handing the letter +to Miss Harvey, "how the medical profession would stand on this--would +your school endorse it, nurse?" + +Miss Harvey read it with her back to the others--then she glanced at +Mrs. Thornton--and checked herself as she was about to speak. She folded +the letter slowly and returned it to the Flopper without comment. + +Robert Thornton, master of millions, hard-headed and practical for all +his youth, leaned forward in his chair toward the Flopper. + +"Look here," he said bluntly, "you don't mean to say that you believe +this seriously, do you?" + +"Oh, no!" said the Flopper softly. "Nothin' like dat! Of course I don't +believe it! I'm only guyin' myself--see? I'm just goin' dere fer +fun--an' spendin' me last red to get dere. Say"--his voice snapped--"wot +do youse t'ink I am, anyway?" + +"Surely, Robert," said Mrs. Thornton gently, "it is evident enough that +he believes it." + +Thornton did not look at her--he was still gazing at the Flopper, his +brows knitted. + +"How long have you been like this?" he demanded sharply. + +"All me life," said the Flopper. "I was born dat way." + +"And you expect to go down here and by some means, which I must confess +is quite beyond my ability to grasp, be cured in a miraculous +manner!"--Thornton smiled tolerantly. + +"Sure, I do!" asserted the Flopper doggedly. "If he's done it fer de +crowd dere, why can't he do it fer me? Didn't de postmaster say all yer +gotter have is faith? Well, I got de faith--an' I got it hard enough to +stake all I got on it. Dis time to-morrow--say, dis time to-morrow I +wouldn't change places wid any man in de United States." + +Thornton's tolerant smile deepened. + +"I guess you're sincere enough," he said; "and I'm not trying to cut the +ground of hope out from under your feet, as you put it out on the +platform--but it seems to me that it is only the kindly thing to do to +warn you that the more faith you put in a thing like this the worse you +are making it for yourself--you are laying up a bitter disappointment in +store that can only make your present misfortune the more unbearable." + +The Flopper shook his head. + +"If he's done it fer others, he can do it fer me," he repeated, with +unshaken conviction. "An' dat goes--I can't lose." + +Thornton tilted his chair back again, and stared at the Flopper with +pitying incredulity. + +There was silence for a moment; then Mrs. Thornton spoke. + +"Robert," she said slowly, "I want to stop at Needley." + +The front legs of Thornton's chair came down on the heavy carpet with a +dull thud, and he whirled around in his seat to stare at his wife. + +"You don't mean to say, Naida," he gasped, "that you've got faith in +this thing, too!" + +"No; not faith," she answered pathetically. "I hardly dare to _hope_. I +have hoped so much in the last year, and--" + +"But this is sheer nonsense!" Thornton broke in with irritable +impatience. "I can understand this man here, in a way--he has the +superstition, if you like to call it that, due to lack of education, if +he'll pardon my saying so in his presence; but you, Naida, surely you +can't take any stock in it!" + +She smiled at him a little wanly. + +"I have told you that I didn't even dare to hope," she said. "But I want +to see--I want to see. I have tried sanatoriums and consulted +specialists until it has all become a nightmare to me and I am no +better--I sometimes think I never shall be any better." + +"But," exploded Thornton, rising from his chair, "that's nothing to do +with this--this is rank foolishness! Nurse, you--" + +Miss Harvey, too, had risen, and was regarding Mrs. Thornton anxiously. + +"It is better to humor her than to excite her," she said in a low voice. + +Mrs. Thornton had dropped back on the couch and her face was turned away +from the others, but she stretched out her hand to her husband. + +"I am not asking very much, Robert, dear--am I?" she said. "Not very +much. Won't you do this for me?" + +Thornton bit his lips and scowled at the Flopper. + +"Well, I'll be damned!" he muttered--and moving to the side of the car +pushed a bell-button viciously. "Sam," he snapped, as his colored man +appeared, "go and tell the conductor that I want my car put off on the +siding at Needley." + +"Yes, sah," said Sam. + +Thornton sat down again heavily. + +"Mabbe," announced the Flopper tactfully, "mabbe I'd better be gettin' +back to me valise--we're most dere, ain't we?" + +Mrs. Thornton turned toward him. + +"No; please don't go, Mr. Coogan--it's too hard for you to get through +the train. Sam will get your things as soon as he comes back. Do stay +right where you are until we get to Needley." + +"No; don't think of going, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton savagely. + +The Flopper looked at Mrs. Thornton gratefully, and at Mr. Thornton +thoughtfully. + +"T'anks!" said the Flopper pleasantly--and wriggled himself into a more +comfortable position in his chair. + +Half an hour later, the train, that stopped only on signal to discharge +eastbound passengers from Portland, drew up at Needley--and Hiram +Higgins, on the platform, stared at a scene never before witnessed in +the history of the town. + +It was not one passenger, or two, or three, that alighted--they streamed +in a bewildering fashion from every vestibule of every car. It is true +that the majority got back into the train later, but that did not lessen +the effect any on Mr. Higgins. Mr. Higgins' jaw dropped, and he grabbed +at his chin whiskers for support. + +"Merciful daylights!" he breathed heavily. "Now what in the land's sakes +be it all about?" His eyes, following the hurrying passengers, fixed on +the twisted shape of the Flopper, being helped to the platform from the +private car. + +"Three cheers for Coogan!" yelled some excitable passenger. + +The cheers were given with a will. + +"Good luck to you, Coogan!" shouted another--and the crowd took it up +in chorus: "Good luck to you, Coogan!" + +"_Coogan!_"--Mr. Higgins' face paled, and he took a firmer grip on his +whiskers. "Now if you ain't gone an' put your fool foot in it, Hiram +Higgins," he said miserably. "If that there's the fellow that you writ +to, you've just laid out to make a plumb fool of the Patriarch, 'cause I +reckon the Almighty knew His own mind when He made a critter like that, +an' didn't calc'late to have His work upsot much this side of the +grave--not even by the Patriarch." + + + + +--IX-- + +THE PILGRIMAGE + + +Faith is an inheritance common to the human race; and the human race in +its daily life, in its daily dealings, man to man, could not go on +without it--but faith is a matter of degree. Faith, in the abstract, the +element of it, is inborn in every soul; and while dormant, until put to +a crucial test along any given line, is boundless and unlimited--a sort +of tacitly accepted, existing state, unquestioned. Faith in many is a +sturdy, virile thing--to a certain point. It is the fire that proves. + +Needley had faith in the Patriarch--a faith that never before had been +questioned. But Needley had more than that--Needley held the Patriarch +in affection, as a cherished thing, almost sacredly, almost as an idol. +Faith the simple people of Needley had always had--to a certain +point--but it faltered before this grotesque, inhuman, twisted shape +that squatted in the road before the Congress Hotel like a hideous +caricature of an abnormal toad. Their faith failed to bridge the span +that gave the Patriarch power over such as this, and they saw their idol +shattered in their own eyes, and held up to mockery before the eyes of +these strangers who had so suddenly and tempestuously swarmed upon them. + +Hiram Higgins, seeking out Doc Madison inside the hotel, was in a state +bordering on distraction. + +"I druve him over from the station 'cause he couldn't walk, him an' a +man, an' two women, an' a wheel-chair," Mr. Higgins explained. "But +what's to be done now? He wants me to drive him out to the Patriarch's. +I got faith in the Patriarch, but I never said he could work +miracles--there ain't no one on earth could straighten that critter out. +Don't stand to reason that the Patriarch's to be made a fool of." + +"Certainly not," agreed Madison emphatically. "It's most unfortunate. I +suppose all of us here in Needley"--he looked around at the assembled +group of leading citizens--"feel the same way, too?" + +"Of course we do," said Mr. Higgins helplessly. "Couldn't feel no ways +else." + +Madison laid his hand suddenly, impressively, upon Mr. Higgins' shoulder +and looked meaningly into Mr. Higgins' eyes--and into the eyes of the +selectmen, the overseers of the poor, the general-store proprietor, and +the school committee. + +"Don't drive him over, then," he said significantly. "Don't any of the +rest of you do it either--and tell everybody else not to. Make him +_crawl_. If he's determined to go, let him get there by himself if he +can, make him crawl--he'll never be able to do it." + +"That's so," said Mr. Higgins, brightening, while the others nodded; +then, dubiously: "But s'pose he _does_ get there--how be we goin' to +stop him?" + +"If he can get there by himself you can't stop him," said Madison +seriously. "You can't do anything like that. To use force would be +carrying things too far, and would only place the Patriarch in a worse +light. If this fellow--what's his name?--Coogan?--can crawl there, let +him--that's his own business. None of _us_ are encouraging him, the +Patriarch didn't ask him to come, and no one has a right to expect +miracles--so it can't hurt the Patriarch seriously under those +conditions. Besides, if this Coogan has got faith enough to crawl that +mile, who knows what might happen--make him crawl." + +Mr. Higgins, with a grim nod, headed a determined exodus from the hotel +office--and Madison strolled out onto the veranda. + +Needley was in a furor. The news spread like an oil-fed conflagration. +The farmers left their work in the fields and hurried into the village; +from the houses and cottages came the women and children to cluster +around the Congress Hotel; from the station, scarcely of less interest +to the inhabitants than the Flopper himself, straggled in those curious +enough to have left the train, nearly a dozen of them--and amongst them +Pale Face Harry coughed, as he trudged laboriously along. + +Larger and larger grew the circle around the Flopper, filling and +blocking the road, overflowing into front yards, and massing on the +little lawn of the hotel clear up to the veranda--until fields and +houses were deserted, and to the last inhabitant Needley was there. + +Upon the ground squatted the Flopper, his eyes sweeping the ring of +faces that was like a wall around him--the grinning faces of his fellow +passengers from the train; the stony, concerned and rather sullen faces +of the men of Needley; the anxious, excited faces of the women; the +bewildered, curious and somewhat frightened faces of the children, who +pushed and shoved their elders for better vantage ground. + +The Flopper licked his lips, and renewed the appeal he had been making +for nearly five minutes. + +"Ain't no one goin' to drive me out to de Patriarch's?" + +"Horses are all busy in the fields," said a voice, uncompromisingly. + +"Yes," said the Flopper, with bitter irony, "drivin' each other around, +while youse are here starin' at me an' won't help." + +His eyes caught Doc Madison's from the veranda and held an instant to +read a message and interpret the almost imperceptible, but significant, +movement of Madison's head. + +"Gee!" said the Flopper to himself, as his eyes swept the faces around +him again. "Dis is a nice game de Doc's planted on me--he wants me to +do de wiggle out dere fer de rubes! Ain't dey a peachy lot--look at de +saucer eyes on de kids!" + +Mrs. Thornton, in her wheel-chair on the inner edge of the circle, +turned to her husband. + +"It's very strange that no one seems willing to drive him," she said. + +"Oh, not very," responded Thornton, with a short laugh. "I don't blame +them--they don't want this healer of theirs made a monkey of." + +"If no one will drive him, he shall have my wheel-chair," announced Mrs. +Thornton impulsively. "I think it is a perfect shame--the poor man!" + +"Nonsense!" said Thornton gruffly. "You'll do nothing of the kind." + +"Yes, Robert, I will," declared Mrs. Thornton with determination. She +leaned forward and called to the Flopper. "Mr. Coogan," she said +anxiously, "if you can't find any other way of getting out there, I want +you to take this chair of mine--you'll be able to manage with it, I am +sure." + +The Flopper looked at her with gratitude--but shook his head--mindful of +Doc Madison. + +"T'anks, mum," he said, "but I couldn't t'ink of it--you needs it more'n +me." + +"Please do," she insisted. + +"T'anks, mum," said the Flopper again, "but I couldn't. You needs it, +an' I can get along widout it. Dey're stallin' on me, but I can get dere +by myself if any one'll show me de way." + +"I'll show you, mister," piped a shrill voice--and young Holmes on his +crutch hopped into the circle. "I'll show you, mister--an' 'tain't fur, +neither." + +"Swipe me!" muttered the Flopper, as he surveyed the lad. "Dis is de +limit fer fair!" Perturbed and uncertain what to do, he tried to catch +Doc Madison's eye again, but a movement in the crowd had hidden Madison. + +Some one in the crowd, the lingerie drummer, getting the grim humor of +the situation, laughed--and the laugh came like a challenge, taunting +the quick-tempered, turbulent soul of the Flopper. + +"Come on, mister!" urged the boy excitedly. "'Tain't fur--I'll show +you." + +"God bless you, son," said the Flopper, while he flung an inward curse +at the man who had laughed. "Son, God bless you fer yer good heart--go +ahead--I'll stick to you." + +The crowd opened, making a lane through which the boy stumped on his +crutch, his face flushed and eager, and through which the Flopper +followed, slowly, rocking from side to side as he helped himself along +with the palm of his left hand flat in the dust of the road, trailing +his wobbling leg behind him. + +The crowd closed in behind and moved forward. + +Mrs. Thornton's face was fever-flushed, her eyes bright; in her weak +state she was on the verge of nervous hysteria. + +"I want to go, Robert," she cried. "I must go." + +"But, my dear," protested Thornton harshly, "this is simply the height +of absurdity. For Heaven's sake be sensible, Naida. Just imagine what +people would say if they saw us here with this outfit of idiots--they'd +think we'd gone mad." + +"I don't care what they'd think," she returned feverishly, her frail +fingers plucking nervously at the arms of her chair. "I must go--I +must--I must." + +Thornton glanced at the nurse, then stared at his wife--Miss Harvey's +meaning look was hardly necessary to drive home to him the fact that +Mrs. Thornton was in no condition to be denied anything. + +Red-faced, Thornton strode to the back of the chair and began to push it +along. + +"Of all the damned foolishness that ever I heard of," he gritted +savagely, "this is the worst!" His face went redder still with +mortification. "If this ever leaks out I'll never hear the last of it. +Look at us--bringing up the rear of a gibbering mob of yokels! We're fit +for a padded cell!" + +In the crowd, Madison rubbed shoulders for a moment with Pale Face +Harry. + +"Who's the party with the wheel-chair behind?" he asked. + +"Millionaire--Chicago--private car--Flopper's got the wife going +hard--rode down with them," coughed Pale Face Harry behind his hand. + +"I guess I'll get acquainted," said Madison. "Circulate, Harry, and +cough your head off--don't hide your light under a bushel--circulate." +And Madison fell back to scrape acquaintance with the man of millions. + +Close-packed upon the road, the procession spread out for a hundred +yards behind the Flopper--bare-footed children; women in multi-colored +gingham and calico; men in the uncouth dress of the fields, the +uncouthness accentuated by the sprinkling of more pretentious clothing +worn by those who had come from the train. And slowly, very slowly, this +conglomerate human cosmorama moved on, undulating queerly with the +variant movements of its component parts, snail-like, for the Flopper's +pace was slow--as strange a spectacle, perhaps, as the human eye had +ever witnessed, something of grimness, something of humor, something of +awe, something of fear exuding from it--it seemed to contain within +itself the range, and to express, the gamut of all human emotion. + +On the procession went--so slowly as to be almost sinister in its +movement. And a strange sound rose from it and seemed to float and hover +over it like a weird, invisible, acoustic canopy. Three hundred voices, +men's, women's and children's, rose and fell, rose and fell--at first in +a medley of scoffings, laughter, sullen murmurs, earnest dispute and +children's prattle--a strange composite sound indeed! But as the +minutes passed and the mass moved on and stopped as the Flopper paused +to rest, and moved on and stopped and moved on again, gradually this +changed, very gradually, not abruptly, but as though the scoffings and +the laughter were dying away almost imperceptibly in the distance. For +as the Flopper stopped to rest, those near him gazed upon his face, +distorted, full of muscular distress, sweat pouring from his forehead, +pain and suffering written in every lineament--and drew back whispering +into the crowd, giving place to others until all had seen. And so the +strange sound from this strange congregation grew lower, until it was a +sort of breathless, long-sustained and wavering note, a prescience, a +premonition of something to come, a ghastly mockery or a tragedy to +befall, until it was an awe-struck murmuring thing. + +Some spoke to him now and in pity offered to get him a horse and wagon, +offered even to carry him--but the Flopper shook his head. + +"'Tain't goin' to be but a few minutes now," he panted in an exalted +voice, "before I'm cured--I got de faith to know dat--I got de faith." + +And the crippled lad upon the crutch beside him urged him on. The boy's +face was strained and eager, full of mingled emotions--pride in the +leading part he played, wonder and expectancy. + +"Come on, mister, come on!" he kept saying, impatiently accommodating +his own restricted pace to the Flopper's still slower one. + +Through the wagon track, through the woods beneath the trees, the dead, +slow, shuffling tread went on--and now even the murmuring sound was +hushed. Men and women stared into each other's faces--children sought +their elders' hands. What did it mean? Faith--yes, they had had +faith--but never faith like this. They looked at the awful deformity +over one another's heads, crawling inch by inch along before +them--watched the stubborn, bitter struggle of pain and suffering of the +wretched man who led them, spurred on by a faith cast in a heroic mold +such as none there had ever dreamed of before--and they spoke no more. +There was only the sound of movement now--and that curiously subdued. +Men seemed to choose their footing, seeking to tread noiselessly, as +though in some solemn presence that awed them and held them in an +intangible, heart-quickening suspense. + +Onward they went--following the lurching, wriggling, reeling, broken +thing before them--following the Flopper, his right hand and arm curved +piteously inward to his chin, his neck thrown sideways, his sagging leg +seeming to hold only to his body by spasmodic jerks to catch up with the +body itself, like the steel when detached from the magnet that bounds +forward to re-attach itself again, his eyes starting from his head, his +face bloodless with exertion and twisted as fearfully as were his limbs, +but upon his lips a smile of resolution, of indomitable assurance. + +Onward they went--a huddled mass of humanity, literate and illiterate, +of all ages, of all conditions, and none laughed, none grinned, none +smiled, none spoke--all that was past. They stopped, they moved +again--as the Flopper stopped and moved. Occasionally a child cried +out--occasionally there came a discordant, racking cough--that was all. + +Tenser grew the very atmosphere they breathed--heavier upon them fell +the sense of something almost supernatural, beyond the human and the +finite. Skeptic and faint believer, sinner, Christian and scoffer, they +were all alike now in the presence of a faith whose evidence was before +them in harrowing vividness, in the torment and agony of a fellow +creature who sought again through faith a restoration to the image of +his kind. There was no creed, no school of ethical belief, no +conflicting orthodoxy to quibble over, no ground on which atheist and +theologian even might stand apart--there was only _faith_--a faith whose +trappings none might take issue with, for it was naked faith and the +trappings were stripped from it--it was faith in its very essence, +boundless, utter, simple, limitless, staggering, appalling them. + +Its consummation? That was another thing--a thing that in the presence +of such faith as this brought human pity, sympathy and sorrow to its +full, brought dread and terror. Faith such as this they had never +conceived; faith such as this, if it was to prove a shattered thing, was +for its exponent to drink the very dregs of misery and despair--and +yet, rising above that possibility, flinging grim challenge at their +doubts, stood this very faith, mighty in itself, perfect in its +confidence, heroic in its agony, that all might gaze upon from a common +standpoint and know--as faith. + +No whispering breeze stirred the young leaves in the trees; in the +stillness of the afternoon came only the heavy, pulsing throb of +Nature's breathing. One hundred, two, three hundred, they moved along, +slow, sinuous, troubled, their eyes straight before them or upon the +ground at their feet--only the children looked with frightened, startled +eyes into their parents' faces, and clung the closer. + +Out upon the wagon track they debouched and spread in a long, thin line +beneath the maples on either side of the Flopper--and waited. + + + + +--X-- + +THE MIRACLE + + +There was utter silence now--the tread of shuffling feet was gone--no +man moved--it seemed as though no man _breathed_--they stood as carven +things, inanimate, men, women and children strained forward, their faces +drawn, tense and rigid. In the very air, around them, everywhere, +imprisoning them, clutching like an icy hand at the heart, something +unseen, a dread, intangible presence weighed them down and lay heavy +upon them. What was to come? What drear tragedy was to be enacted? What +awful mockery was to fall upon this maimed and mutilated creature within +whose deformed and pitiful body there too was a human soul? + +From the cottage door across the lawn came two figures--a girl in +simple, clinging white, her head bowed, the sun itself seeming to caress +the dark brown wealth of hair upon her head, changing it to glinting +strands of burnished copper; and beside her walked the Patriarch, his +hand resting lightly upon her arm, a wondrous figure of a man, majestic, +simple, grand, his silvered-hair bared to the sun, his face illumined. + +"There he is, mister!" whispered young Holmes hoarsely. "There he is! Go +on, mister, go on--see what he can do for you!" + +There came a sound that was like a great, gasping intake of breath, as +men and women watched. Out toward the Patriarch, alone now, the Flopper +began to wriggle and writhe his way along. God in Heaven have pity! What +was this sight they looked upon--this poor, distorted, mangled thing +that grovelled in the earth--that figure towering there in the sunlight +with venerable white beard and hair, erect, symbolic of some strange, +mystic power that awed them, his head turned slightly in a curious +listening attitude, the sightless eyes closed, upon the face a great +calm like a solemn benediction. + +Fell a stillness that was as the stillness of death; came a hush until +in men's ears was the quick, fierce pound and throb of their own hearts. +On, on toward the Patriarch slithered and twisted that frightful +deformity that they had followed over that long, torturing mile--on, on +he went, and they watched scarce drawing breath, their faces white, +their very limbs held as in a palsied, fearsome spell--and then, sudden, +abrupt, terrifying, there rose a shriek, wild, hysterical, prolonged, in +a woman's voice, the cadence wavering from guttural to shrill and ending +in a high-pitched, broken scream. + +The Flopper halted and turned himself about, while his left hand swept +his livid face, brushing from it the spurting drops, sweeping back the +damp, tangled hair from his eyes--faced them till they saw an agony on +human countenance that struck, stabbing, to their souls--faced them +while his eyes traversed the long, long line of ghastly white faces +before him, out of which eyes everywhere, row on row of them, straining, +fixed, fascinated, seemed to burn like living fires as they held him in +their focus. + +He had not gone far, perhaps ten yards--no more. By the group around the +wheel-chair, almost in the center of the line, stood Madison, his chin +in his hand in a meditative, thoughtful attitude, the single soul who +watched the scene from under lowered lids; Thornton had involuntarily +edged a little forward from behind the chair until he stood now at its +side in a strange, abashed way as though his own personality were +over-ruled, obliterated, his face with a white sternness upon it, his +eyes, like all other eyes, agleam with an unnatural fire; Mrs. Thornton +had pulled herself forward in the chair, one hand clutching at her +breast, the frail fingers of the other woven in a grasp so tight around +the arm of the chair that the flesh was bloodless; a little way off, a +group of three, the two salesmen and the metropolitan newspaper man, +seemed as though stricken into stone, stripped of all assurance, all +complacence, awed, tense, palpitant, as the patched, bare-legged +tatterdemalion of ten from the fields, that stood beside them, was awed +and tense and palpitant. + +And away on either side stretched the line of white, rigid faces, the +never-ending, burning eyes--but the silence with that shriek was gone +now, for another woman and another, overwrought, needing but that sudden +shock to unnerve them utterly, shrieked in turn--and through the line +seemed to run a shudder, and it moved a little though no foot stirred, +moved with a strange, sinuous, rocking, swaying movement, from the hips, +backward and forward and to either side. Men raised their eyes, stole +frightened, questioning glances at their neighbors--and fixed their eyes +on the Flopper again--on the Flopper and that majestic figure in the +center of the lawn, so calm of mien, of attitude and pose. + +Once again the Flopper's eyes swept the scene. A few feet in advance of +the crowd, as though drawn irresistibly forward, young Holmes hung upon +his crutch. The boy's soul seemed in his face--hope, a world of it, as +he gazed at the Patriarch, sickening fear as he looked at the Flopper; +his lips moving without sound, his body trembling with emotional +excitement. Still once again the Flopper's eyes swept the line of men +and women and children, fast reaching toward a common ungovernable +hysteria--and then he turned with an unbalanced, impotent, broken +movement, flung out his good arm toward the Patriarch in piteous +supplication, and, jerking himself forward, went on. + +Slowly, very slowly at first, he resumed his way, crawling it seemed by +no more than a painful inch on inch, in mortal pain, in mortal agony and +struggle--then gradually his movements began to quicken, as though +growing upon him were a mad, elated haste that he could not +control--quicker and quicker he went, pitching and lurching wildly; from +a pace that was beyond him. + +A strange, low, moaning sound rose from behind him, fluttering, +inarticulate, that voiceless utterance that seeks to find some vent for +human emotion when human emotion sweeps with mighty surge to engulf the +soul. It rose and died away and rose again--and died away--and children +began to whimper with a fear and terror that they did not understand, +and seeking solace in their elders' faces found added cause for fear +instead. + +Nearer to that saintly figure who stood so calm, so quiet, the massive +white-locked head still turned a little in that curious listening +attitude, beside whom, close drawn now, was that white-clad girlish +form, whose eyes were lowered, whose sweet face seemed to hold a heaven +of pity and infinite compassion, upon whose lips there was a smile of +divine tenderness, drew that piteous mockery of the image of a man, +whose every movement appeared one of agony beyond human power to +endure--and the agony found echo in the watchers' souls, and a low, +muffled groan as of men in pain and hurt, ran tremulously along the +line. + +Still nearer to the Patriarch drew the Flopper. More heart-rending was +his every movement, for with his quickened pace he sought to move +without the aid of the only member that was as other men's, his left +hand and arm that, in pleading, yearning supplication, was stretched out +before him to the Patriarch. + +The extreme ends of the long line of watchers curled a little inward, +almost imperceptibly, a half step taken without volition. The crippled +boy, swaying upon his crutch, his lips parted, trembling in every limb, +edged forward hesitantly, fearfully, now a foot, now another, now the +bare space of a single inch. And now down the entire length of the line +from end to end that wavering, rocking movement in swaying, pregnant +unison grew stronger--men knew not what they did--it seemed the very air +they breathed must smother them--and, in that dull, weird, lingering +note, rose again the sound of moaning that seemed to beat in consonance +with the distant mournful rhythm of the endless beat of surf on shore. + +Women clutched at their breasts now; men's knuckles went white beneath +the tight-drawn skin; the children drew behind their mothers' skirts +and, terror-stricken, cried aloud. Surcharged, on the edge, the bare and +ragged edge of frenzy now was every man and woman in the crowd. It was a +sight, a spectacle that racked them in every fibre of their beings, that +stirred them to pity, to hope, to fear, until the awful misery of this +blighted and crawling thing was their own in its every twitch of +agony--that struck them with a terror, the greater because it was +indefinable, a prescience, a reaching out beyond human realm, the +invoking of a supernal power--the thought of which very power, once +loosed, chilled them with panic-dread. + +Yet still they watched--it was beyond their power to turn their +eyes--enthralled, a moaning, swaying, rocking mob, they watched. Madness +was creeping upon them rampant. Like a mighty tide, the ocean weight +behind it, hurling itself against flood-gates that could never stand, it +mounted higher and higher; and already, as the water first seeps between +the gates, grim forecast of what was to come, it showed itself now in +that long, sobbing, convulsive inhalation, in that strange, sinuous, +restless movement. + +On went the Flopper. There was still a yard to go--two feet--_one_. +Stopped in a sudden deathless hush was all sound. The Flopper flung +himself forward upon his face at the Patriarch's feet. Stopped was all +movement, haggard and tense every face, strained every eye. For a moment +that seemed to span eternity, in a huddled heap, that crippled, twisted +thing lay there before them motionless, without sign of life--the +venerable face above it, still intent, still listening, turned slowly +downwards. Then there was a movement, a movement that blanched the +watching faces to a more pallid white--that dangling, wobbling leg drew +inward slowly, very slowly, and hip and knee, as though guided by some +mighty power, immutable, supreme, came deliberately into normal form. + +A shriek, a cry, a wail, a sob, a prayer--it came now +unrestrained--hysteria was loosed in a mad ungovernable orgasm--men +clutched at each other and cowered, hiding their faces with their +hands--women dropped to their knees and, sobbing, screaming, prayed. +Loud it rose, the turmoil of human souls aghast and quailing before a +manifestation that seemed to fling them face to face, uncovered, naked, +before the awful power and majesty and might of Heaven itself. + +They looked again--fearfully. The twisted thing was standing now, +standing but still deformed--with crooked neck, with curved, bent, +palsied arm. And nearer had drawn little Holmes, his head thrust +forward, shaking as with the ague as he gazed on the group before him, +oblivious to all else around him. + +A twinge of frightful torture swept the Flopper's face--and with that +same slow, awful deliberation the misshapen arm straightened out. Men +cried aloud again and again--a woman fainted, another here, another +there--children wailed and ran, some shrieking, some whimpering, for the +woods. + +Again the spasm crossed the Flopper's face, a shuddering, muscular +contortion--and from the shoulder rose his head. + +Inward drew the ends of the line of paroxysm-stricken people--not far, +not near to that hallowed group for something held them back; but inward +gradually until the line, no longer straight, was half a circle, +crescent shaped. Louder came that harrowing medley of sounds, its +component parts voicing the uttermost depths of the soul of each +separate individual man and woman there--some moaned in terror; some +prayed, mumbling, still upon their knees; some laughed hoarsely, +wildly, their senses for the moment gone; and some were dumb; and some +shrieked their prayers in frenzy. Louder it grew--the end had come--that +deformed thing stood erect, a perfect man--he turned his face toward +them--he stretched out his arms--and they answered him with their wails, +their sobs, their moans, their cries--they answered him in their terror, +in their shaken senses, clutching at each other again--answered him from +their knees, their voices hoarse--answered him with trembling lips and +tongues that would not move. + +And then suddenly, as though riven where they stood and kneeled and +crouched, all movement ceased--and every heart stood still as ringing +clear above all else, shocking all else to stunned, petrified silence, +there came a cry--a cry in a young voice. It rang again and again, +trembling with glad, new life, vibrant, a cry that seemed to thrill with +chords of happiness and ecstasy immeasurable. Again it came, again, +exultant, pulsing with a mighty joy--young Holmes had _flung his crutch +from him_, and, with outstretched arms, was running toward the Patriarch +across the lawn. + +For an instant more that stunned, awed silence held. All eyes were +riveted and fixed upon the scene--none looked at Madison--if any had +they would have seen that his face had gone an ivory white. + + + + +--XI-- + +THE AFTERMATH + + +"I am cured, Robert! Robert! Robert! See, I too am cured! Oh, Robert, +what wondrous joy!"--Mrs. Thornton had left her wheel-chair and was +standing beside her husband, standing alone, unaided for the first time +in many months. + +"Naida!"--it was a hoarse cry from Thornton. Then his hand passed +heavily across his face as though to force his brain to coherent action, +to lift the spell of what seemed a wild phantasm in all around him. +"Naida!"--he sought now to control his voice--"Naida, get back into your +chair again." + +She laughed--a little hysterically--but in the laugh too was the uplift +of a soul enraptured. + +"But I am cured, Robert. See, dear, can't you understand?" She shook his +arm. "See--I am cured. I can walk just as I could before I was ill. Oh, +Robert, Robert! See! See!"--she went from him, walking a little, running +a little--and laughing in a low, rippling, glorious laugh that was like +the music of silver chimes ringing out in glad acclaim. + +He stared at her, both hands now to his temples; then he turned to look +strangely at the empty chair--but it was not empty. Miss Harvey, the +nurse, on her knees, had flung herself across it and, with buried head, +was sobbing unrestrainedly. + +And now upon the lawn was a scene indescribable. The long line was +broken. Men and women ran hither and thither, for the most part +aimlessly, as though in some strange state of coma where the mind +refused its functions. They talked and cried and shouted at each other +in frenzy without knowing what they said--some with tears raining down +their faces, others with blank countenances, no sign of emotion upon +them other than in their wild, dilated eyes. Here and there they rushed +without volition, their throat-noises rising above them, floating +through the still air in a sound that no ear had ever heard before, +weird, terrifying, without license, beyond control. Like mad creatures +rushing against each other in the dark they were, stupified by a sight +that was no mortal sight, a sight that blinded them mentally because it +was no _human_ sight. + +Faith? Faith is a matter of degree, is it not? + +Or is it at its full in power and efficacy at moments when hysteria in +paroxysm is at its height? Who shall define faith? Who shall say what it +is, and who shall place its limitations upon it? + +Out in the center of the lawn young Holmes was in his mother's arms, the +father pathetically trying to wrap both mother and child in his own. +Around them, attracted in that strange uncertain way, the crowd +constantly grew larger. Further out again, Helena was leading the +Patriarch toward the cottage, the Flopper close behind her--the +Patriarch walking with a slow tread, his head still turned a little in +that listening attitude--and at a distance followed a straggling crowd. +Then the cottage door was shut--and Helena, the Patriarch and the +Flopper disappeared from view. + +A dozen yards from the wheel-chair stood Madison, riveted to the spot, +motionless save for a nervous twitching of the lips, his eyes, now upon +the invalid who walked about, now on the little lad who had thrown away +his crutch. Some one plucked at his sleeve, but Madison gave no +heed--again his arm was pulled, and he turned to look into Pale Face +Harry's face. The other's countenance was gray, the eyes full of a +shrinking, terrified light. + +"Doc, for God's sake, Doc, what's it mean?" whispered Pale Face Harry +shakily, moistening his dry lips with his tongue. "Doc, this ain't no +bunk--there's something in it." + +The words seemed to rouse Madison--to leadership. He stared at Pale Face +Harry for a moment, then a grim smile flickered across his face. + +"Something in it!" he repeated with an ironic laugh--and suddenly +grabbed Pale Face Harry's arm and shook him. "There's so much in it that +I'm drunk with it, crazy with it--but I'm trying to make myself believe +it isn't too good to be true. Get that? Get a grip on that, and hang on. +Don't lose your nerve, Harry!" + +"I guess I ain't much worse than you," mumbled Pale Face Harry. "You're +whiter than a sheet." + +"You're right," admitted Madison frankly. "I'm queer, but I'm coming +around. Helena seems to be the only one who never lost her grip--she's +got the Patriarch and the Flopper out of the way and under cover. Brace +up, Harry--what I thought we'd get in the Roost that night is +counterfeit money to what'll come from this." His eyes fastened on a +figure that, separating itself from the group around young Holmes, now +dashed frantically, hatless, and with dishevelled hair to Mr. and Mrs. +Thornton. "Who's that, Harry? He came down on the train with you--know +him?" + +"He's only some newspaper guy or other," answered Pale Face Harry +mechanically, his eyes still roving wildly over the scene around him. + +"Oh, is that _all_!" ejaculated Madison with a little gasp. "I've +already exhausted my thanks to Santa Claus and here he comes with +another package done up in dinky pink paper tied with baby ribbon--and +the gold platter it's on goes with it!" + +"What d'ye mean?" asked Pale Face Harry heavily. + +The newspaper man, the instinct of his calling now rising paramount to +all else, had left the Thorntons and was tearing for the wagon track on +his way to the station and the telegraph office like one possessed. + +"By to-morrow morning," said Madison softly, "the missionaries will be +explaining this to the Esquimaux at Oo-lou-lou, the near-invalids in +California will be packing their trunks, likewise those in the languid +shade of the Florida palms; they'll be listing it on the stock exchange +in New York, and the breath of Eden will waft itself o'er plain and +valley until--" he stopped suddenly, as Mrs. Thornton's voice reached +him. + +"I am going to _walk_ back, Robert." + +"Yes; but, Naida," Thornton protested, "you're not strong enough yet." + +"Don't you understand?" she cried, half laughing, half sobbing. "There +is no 'yet'--I am cured, dear--_all_ cured. I'm well and strong. Try to +understand, Robert--oh, I'm so happy, so--so thankful. I know it's +miraculous, that it's almost impossible to believe--but try to +understand." + +"I am trying to," said Thornton numbly, watching her as she moved about. +"And it seems as though I were in a dream--that this isn't real--that +you're not real." + +"It's not a dream," she said. "Oh, I'm so strong again. Why, Robert, it +would be just as absurd for me to be wheeled back in that chair as for +you to be--and besides I have no right to do that now. It would be a +sacrilege, profaning the gratitude in my heart--I am cured and these +poor people here must see that I am cured--Robert, we must leave that +wheel-chair here that others, poor sufferers who will come now, will see +and believe and be cured too. And, Robert, in some way, I do not know +just how, we who are rich must do something to help people to get here." + +"Naida," said Thornton, his voice low, shaken, "I feel as though I were +in another world. I have seen what I can hardly make myself believe that +I have seen. I can't explain--I am speaking, but my very voice seems +strange to me. I feel as you do about helping others--how could I feel +otherwise? What we could do I do not know as yet, either--but I will do +anything. I was a scoffing fool--and you were cured before my eyes--a +boy was cured--and that other, deformed as no creature was ever deformed +before, was cured"--Thornton's lips quivered, and he hid his face in his +hands. + +"While the iron is hot--strike," murmured Madison. He gazed a moment +longer at the group--Mrs. Thornton's hand was on her husband's shoulder +now--then his eyes roved over the frenzied scenes still being enacted +everywhere upon the lawn. "I wonder?" he muttered. The frown on his +forehead cleared suddenly. "Of course!" said he to Pale Face Harry. +"It's a cinch--it's as good as done!" + +Pale Face Harry stared at him queerly. + +"No, Harry," smiled Madison, "my pulse is quite normal now, thank you. +Listen. This is where we call the first showdown on cold hands--and the +dealer slips himself an ace." He drew a key from his pocket and put it +in Pale Face Harry's hand. "That's the key of the small trunk in my +room at the hotel--front room, right hand side of the hall. There's a +check-book in the tray--and I'll give you twenty minutes to get back +here with it. You'll find me somewhere around here, but you needn't let +the whole earth in on the presentation--see? Now beat it!" + +As Pale Face Harry hurried away, Madison, seemingly as aimless, as +hysterical as the hundreds about him, moved here and there, but +unostentatiously he kept nearing the upper end of the lawn, and, +finally, hidden by the woodshed at the further end of the cottage, he +slipped quickly around to the rear. Here the garden stretched almost to +the edge of the sandy beach--not a soul was in sight--and the beat of +the surf deadened the sound from the front lawn to little more than a +low, indistinct murmur. + +Quickly now, Madison stepped to where one of the old-fashioned windows, +that swung inward from the center like double doors, was open, and, +reaching in his hand, tapped sharply twice in succession with his +knuckles on the pane. The sill was not quite on a level with his +shoulders and he could see inside--it was Helena's room, and the door to +the hall was open. Again he knocked. Came then the sound of +footsteps--and from the hall the Flopper's face peered cautiously around +the jamb of the door. + +"Tell Helena to come here," called Madison softly. + +The Flopper turned his head, called obediently, and in a dazed sort of +way came himself to the window. His face was haggard, and he shivered +as he licked his lips. + +"I pulled de stunt," said the Flopper in a croaking voice, "but de +kid--Doc--did youse see de kid? I got de shakes--it's like de whole of +hell an' de other place was loose, an' Helena's gone batty, an'--pipe +her, dere she is." + +Into the room came Helena, her face like chalk--all color gone from even +her lips. She clutched at the window beside the Flopper for support. + +"I'm frightened," she whispered. "We've gone too far--it's--it's--John +Madison, I'm frightened." + +Madison did not speak for a moment--Madison was a consummate leader. He +looked, smiling reassuringly, from one to the other--and then leaned +soothingly, confidentially, in over the sill. + +"I know how you feel--felt just the same myself for a bit," said he +quietly. "But now look here, you've got to pull yourselves +together--there's nothing to be afraid of. It's natural enough. It's +faith, Helena--and that's what we were banking on--only not quite so +hard. That kid and Mrs. Thornton annexed the real brand, that's all--and +when the genuine thing is on tap I cross my fingers and yell for +faith--there's nothing to stop it. And that's the way it's got both of +you too, eh? Well, that only makes our game the safer and the more +certain, doesn't it? So, come on now, pull yourselves together." + +"In de last act when I was gettin' me head into joint," mumbled the +Flopper, "was when de kid yelled--I can hear it yet, an'--" + +"Forget it!" Madison broke in a little sharply; then, tactfully, his +voice full of unbounded admiration: "You're an artist, Flopper--a +wonder. You pulled the greatest act that was ever on the boards, and you +pulled it as no other man on earth could have pulled it. Flopper, you +make me feel humble when I look at you." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper, brightening. "D'ye mean it, Doc--honest?" + +"Mean it!" ejaculated Madison. "You're the whole thing, Flopper--you +win. Come on now, Helena, buck up--we've got another little act due in +about fifteen minutes--don't let a lot of yowling rubes get your goat. +Why, say, we've got the whole show on the stampede--and we've got to +rush our luck." + +"Sure!" said the Flopper. "Dat's de way to talk--leave it to de Doc +every time--. I ain't feazed half de way I was." + +"I'm all right," said Helena a little tremulously. "What is it we're to +do?" + +"Good!" said Madison, smiling at her approvingly. "That sounds better. +Now listen--and listen hard. From this minute this cottage is the +Shrine. Get that?--Shrine. You've got to keep the hush falling here, and +keep it falling all the time--a sort of holy, hallowed silence, +understand? Lay it on thick--make the crowd stand back--make the guy +that comes in here feel as though he ought to come in on his knees and +as if he'd be struck dead if he didn't. Get the slow music and the low +lights working. And keep the Patriarch well back of the drop except when +he's on for a turn. Get me? He's no side-show with a barker in front of +the tent--don't forget that for a minute. The harder it is to see the +Patriarch and the less he's seen, the bigger he plays up when he's on. +He goes to no man under any conditions, and the only man or woman that +gets to him is through faith and supplication, and a double order of it +at that. Keep the solemn, breathless tap turned on all the time." + +Helena looked at him with a strange little smile quivering on her lips. + +"It's a good thing I've got a sense of humor," she said slowly, "or else +I think I'd--I'd--" + +"No, you wouldn't," said Madison cheerfully. "But time's flying. You're +going to have visitors in a few minutes, and here's where the Patriarch +gets tucked away out of sight behind the veil for a starter, leaving his +presence hovering and throbbing all around in the air--you stay with +him, Flopper, in a back room somewhere and hold his hand. Where is he +now?" + +"In his armchair in the sitting-room," said Helena. "And he's still +listening in that queer way he did out on the lawn. I think he knows in +a little way what's happened." + +"That's good," said Madison; "it'll make him happy. Well, lead him +gently into retirement. I guess that's all--now hurry." + +"Who is it that's coming?" interposed Helena quickly, as Madison +started away from the window. + +Madison grinned. + +"Some friends of the Hopper's. Mr. and Mrs. Thankoffering--you'll like +them immensely, Helena. The lady walks quite well now, and--" + +"Walks!" exclaimed the Flopper, who evidently had not assimilated +Madison's previous reference to Mrs. Thornton. "De lady dat I come wid +in de private car--_walks_?" + +"Of course," said Madison pleasantly. + +"Cured? All cured?" gasped the Flopper. + +"Of course," said Madison again--complacently. + +"Say," said the Flopper, "say, I'm goin' dippy. Another one de same as +de kid, Doc?" + +"Same as the kid, Flopper--faith." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper helplessly. + + + + +--XII-- + +"SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY" + + +By the wheel-chair, Mrs. Thornton, her husband and Doc Madison were in +earnest conversation--and around them was a mass of people. The crowd +had divided into two, or, rather, was constantly coming and going +between two points--young Holmes and Mrs. Thornton--and still the +hysteria was upon men and women, still that wavering, moanlike sound +floated over the lawn. + +"I am stunned and stupified," Madison was saying, and his hand trembled +visibly in its outflung gesture. "I am not, I am afraid, a man of deep +sensibilities, but I cannot help feeling that I have been permitted, +been chosen even, to witness this sight, a sight that will stay with me +till I die, for some great, ulterior purpose. It's as though this place +were hallowed, set apart; that here, if only one has faith, that man's +miraculous power is boundless--that I should help someway. I--I'm afraid +I don't explain myself well." + +"I know what you mean," Mrs. Thornton returned eagerly. "It is what I +was saying to my husband--to make this place known, to help to bring +suffering people here." + +Madison nodded silently. + +"And if you, who have no personal cause for gratitude, feel like that, +how much more should we who--who--oh, there are no words to tell it--my +heart is too full"--Mrs. Thornton smiled through tears. "Robert, you +said you would do anything." + +"Yes, dear," Thornton answered gravely. "But what? We cannot do things +in a moment. If money--" + +Madison shook his head. + +"It's beyond money," he said. "Money is only a secondary consideration. +It's the needs of the place that are paramount. It's not so much the +bringing of people here--they will hear of what has taken place and will +come of their own accord, they will flock here in numbers as time goes +on. But then--what? What can be done with them in this little village? +For a time perhaps they could be accommodated--but after that they must +be turned away." + +"Turned away!" exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, in a hurt cry. "Turned away from +hope--to bitterness and misery again! No, no, they must not I Why"--she +grasped her husband's arm agitatedly--"why couldn't we buy land and put +little houses upon it where they could stay?" + +Madison leaned suddenly toward her. + +"I believe you've hit on the idea, Mrs. Thornton," he said excitedly. +"Why not? It would be the finest thing that was ever done in the world. +But why not go further--this should not be a private enterprise with +the burden on the few." He turned abruptly to Mr. Thornton. "What a +monument from grateful hearts, what a tribute to that saintly soul a +huge sanatorium, built and properly endowed, would be! And it is +feasible--purely from the voluntary contributions of those who come here +and have money--free as the air to the poor who are sick--free to _all_, +for that matter--no one asked to give--but the poorest would gladly lay +down their mites." + +"Yes--oh, yes!" cried Mrs. Thornton raptly. + +"Yes," admitted Mr. Thornton thoughtfully; "that might be done." + +"There is no doubt of it," asserted Madison enthusiastically. "It needs +but the initiative on the part of some one, on our part, and the rest +will take care of itself. But we must, of course, have the endorsement +of the Patriarch--why not go to the cottage now, at once, and talk it +over?" + +"Can we see _him_?" asked Mrs. Thornton wistfully. "Oh, I would like to +kneel at his feet and pour out my gratitude. But see how all these +people go no nearer than that row of trees, as though love or fear or +reverence kept them from going further, as though it were almost +forbidden, holy ground, as though they were held back by an invisible +barrier in spite of themselves." + +"True," said Madison; "and I sense that very thing myself--all men must +sense it after what has taken place, all must feel the presence of a +power too majestic, too full of awe for the mind to grasp. This +faith"--he threw out his hands in an impotent gesture--"we can only +accept it unquestioningly, as a mighty thing, an actual, living, +existent thing, even if we cannot fully understand. But I feel that with +what we have in mind we have a right to go there now--and we should take +that little lad who was cured as well--and his parents, they should come +too." + +"And shall we see _him_?" Mrs. Thornton asked again tensely. + +"Why, I do not know," Madison replied; "but at least we shall see his +niece, Miss Vail, and it is with her in any case that we would have to +discuss the plan, for the Patriarch, you know, is deaf and dumb and +blind." + +"You know them, don't you?" Thornton inquired. + +Madison smiled, a little strangely, a little deprecatingly. + +"If one can speak of 'knowing' such as they--yes," he answered. "When I +came two weeks ago, the Patriarch was not wholly blind, and he was very +kind to me. I learned to love the gentle soul of the man, and in a way, +skeptical though I was, I felt his power--but I never realized until +this afternoon how stupendous, how immeasurable it was." + +"Let us go to the cottage, then," said Thornton. "Naida, dear, let me +help you; it is quite a little distance and--" + +She put out her hands in a happy, intimate way to hold him off. + +"You can't realize it, Robert, can you? That dear, practical business +head of yours makes it even harder for you than it is for me--and I can +hardly realize it myself. But I _am_ cured, dear, and I'm well and +strong, and I don't need any help--why, Robert, I am going to help you +now, instead of always being a source of worry and anxiety to you. Come, +let us go." + +"If you will walk slowly," suggested Madison, "I'll speak to the little +Holmes boy and his parents, and bring them with us." + +He moved away as he spoke--in the direction of a racking cough, that +rose above the confused, murmuring, whispering, shaken voices on every +hand; and in a little knot of people he was, for a moment, pressed close +against Pale Face Harry. + +"All right," whispered Pale Face Harry, "it's in your pocket now--but, +say, no more runs like that for me, I'm all in. I thought sure I was +cured myself--I hadn't coughed for--" + +"Never mind about that now," said Madison rapidly. "I want the crowd +kept away from the doors of the bank vault if they show any tendency to +get too close, though I don't think that'll happen--they're too numbed +and scared yet. But you know the game. Keep the awe going and the 'holy +ground' signs up. Anybody that steps across that stretch between the +trees and the cottage on and after the present date of writing does it +with bowed head and his shoes off--get the idea?" + +Pale Face Harry grinned. + +"That's easy," he said. "Anything'd steer 'em now--they're like sheep. +Leave it to me to keep the soft pedal on." + +With a nod, Madison turned away, the tense expression on his face +assumed again--and presently he was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, and +patting the boy's head in a clumsy, overwrought way. + +"I--I don't dar'st to go," said Mrs. Holmes, clutching wildly at the +boy, still sobbing, still beyond control of herself. + +"But Mrs. Thornton is going," said Madison gently, "and I know your +gratitude is no less than hers--it couldn't be less with this little lad +restored to you. I am sure you want to show it--don't you?" + +"I think we'd orter go, ma," said Mr. Holmes uneasily. + +The boy put his hand in Madison's. + +"I want to go, mister," he choked. "Take me, mister, won't you?" + +"Yes, I think we'd orter go," repeated Mr. Holmes. "Come along, ma," he +said, taking his wife's arm. + +It was a strange group--the Thorntons, rich, refined, to whom luxury was +necessity; the Holmes, poor, uncultured, coarsely dressed; and Madison, +who walked with set face, head lowered a little, his pace slowing +perceptibly, humbly it seemed, the nearer he came to the cottage door. +Neither Thornton, nor Holmes, nor Holmes' wife spoke. Mrs. Thornton's +arm was flung around the boy's shoulder, and he kept looking up into her +tearful face--there was a bond between them that, young as he was, held +him in its thrall. Out across the lawn, dotted here and there, in knots +and groups and little crowds, men and women stopped where they stood and +watched, making no effort to follow--and some, at the renewed evidence +of the miraculous, once more so vividly before their eyes, dropped again +to their knees. + +They reached the door, and Madison drew back a little and with the +others waited silently after he had knocked. Then the door opened +slowly, and Helena, slim and girlish in her simple white dress, appeared +upon the threshold. Her great dark eyes travelled slowly from one to +another, and then her face lighted with a gentle smile. + +"Miss Vail," said Madison diffidently, "this is Mrs. Thornton and her +husband, and the little lad, with his parents, who owes so much to the +Patriarch, and they have come to--" + +"To try and say a little of what is in their hearts"--Mrs. Thornton +stepped impulsively forward and held out her hands to Helena--and then, +breaking down suddenly, she began to sob, and the two were in each +other's arms, Mrs. Thornton's head buried on Helena's shoulder, Helena's +face lowered, her brown hair mingling with the gold of the other's, her +arms about the frail form that shook convulsively. + +Doc Madison shot a covert glance at the three behind him--Thornton, and +Holmes, and Mrs. Holmes. Holmes, with downcast eyes, was shuffling +awkwardly from foot to foot; Mrs. Holmes, her woman's instinct touched, +was watching the scene with face aglow, her eyes moist anew; Thornton +was staring fascinated at Helena, a sort of breathless, wondering +admiration in his eyes. + +Madison involuntarily followed Thornton's look; then stole a glance back +at Thornton again--Thornton was still gazing intently at Helena. + +"Say," observed Madison to himself, "the longer you live the more you +learn, don't you? That's the kind of stuff Helena wears from now on, the +clinging white with the bare throat effect and all that. Why, say, like +that she's what the poets call radiantly divine--eh, what?" + +Mrs. Thornton raised her head, and her hands creeping to Helena's face +brushed the brown hair tenderly back from the white forehead. + +"Oh, how good and sweet and pure you are!" she murmured brokenly. + +A quick, sudden flush, passing to all but Madison as one of demure and +startled modesty, swept in a crimson tide to Helena's face. + +"You--you must not say that," she faltered, shaking her head. "I--you +must not say that." + +Mrs. Thornton smiled at her--and slipped her arm affectionately around +Helena's waist. + +"I could not help it, dear," she whispered. "It came spontaneously. And +it makes me so happy to find you like this, and it makes it so much more +a joy in doing what we have come to talk to you about." + +"What you have come to talk to me about?"--Helena, steadying herself, +repeated the words almost composedly. + +"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Thornton, an eagerness in her voice again. +"But--may we come in? Is it--" + +"All may come in here," Helena answered softly, "and"--her eyes met +Thornton's fixed gaze and dropped quickly--"please come in," she ended +abruptly. + + + + +--XIII-- + +REAL MONEY + + +The two women passed inside the cottage, Mrs. Thornton holding out her +hand again to the little lad; while Holmes and his wife followed +hesitantly, awed. In the rear, Thornton grasped Madison's arm suddenly. + +"I never saw such a beautiful face," he whispered tensely. "It's +wonderful." + +"Yes," assented Madison. "But everything here seems full of a rare, +strange beauty, a hallowed something--it lifts one beyond material +things. You _feel_ it--a great, calm solemnity all about you." + +He closed the door softly behind him. + +Mrs. Thornton's eyes swept questioningly, anxiously and a little timidly +about the plain, simple, quiet room; and then she spoke, her voice +unconsciously hushed: + +"He--he is not here?" + +Helena shook her head, as she led Mrs. Thornton to a chair. + +"Not now," she said in a low voice. "The strain of this afternoon has +left him very weary and very tired--much has gone out of him in response +to the faith he felt but could not see." + +"But he knows?" said Mrs. Thornton eagerly, reaching for Helena's hand. +"He knows?" + +"Yes," Helena replied quietly, "he knows. He always knows." She nodded +gravely to the others. "Please sit down," she said. + +Madison quietly took the chair nearest the table; Thornton one a little +in front of Madison and nearer his wife and Helena, who were close by +the big, open fireplace; the two Holmes sat down on the edges of chairs +a little behind Madison; while young Holmes knelt, his arms in Mrs. +Thornton's lap, his head turned a little sideways, his chin cupped in +one hand, as he stared breathlessly around him. + +It was the boy who broke the momentary silence. + +"Ain't that other fellow here, neither--the fellow that was worse'n me?" +he whispered. + +Helena leaned toward him. + +"Yes; he is here," she answered, smiling sweetly. "He is with the +Patriarch." She lifted her head to include the others in her words. "It +is very wonderful, his gratitude. He will not leave the Patriarch--he +says he will not leave him ever, that all he has to give for the debt he +owes is the life that the Patriarch gave back to him, and he will listen +to nothing but that he should devote that life to the Patriarch's +service." + +"I'd like to, too," said young Holmes, with a quick flush on his face. +"Can I, miss--can I?" + +"Perhaps," said Helena gently. "Who knows what there may be that you can +do?" + +"Dear boy," said Mrs. Thornton, stroking the lad's head. She looked +quickly at Helena. "We, too, are grateful, more than there are words to +tell, and we, too, would like to show our gratitude. We are rich and +money--" + +"Money!" the word came in shocked, hurt interruption from Helena, as a +signal flashed from Madison's eyes. "The Patriarch does not do these +things for money--it would be a bitter grief to him to be misjudged in +that way, even in thought. It is the love in his heart for the suffering +ones, and his power goes out to all who ask it freely, with no thought +of recompense or gain, and his joy and happiness is the joy and +happiness of others." + +"And right off the bat too!" said Madison admiringly to himself. "Now, +wouldn't that get you! Say, could you beat it--could you beat it!" + +"Oh, I did not mean that," said Mrs. Thornton almost piteously. "Please, +please do not think so, for I know so well that money in a personal +sense could have no place here, that it would indeed be sacrilege. It is +in quite another way--Robert, Mr. Madison, you explain what we would +like to do." + +It was Madison who explained. + +"It is Mrs. Thornton's idea, Miss Vail," he said earnestly; "and it is +one that I know will realize the Patriarch's dearest wish--to extend +his sphere of helpfulness to others, to reach out to all who are +stricken and have faith to come. I remember his writing that on the +slate, which he used for conversation before his sight was completely +taken from him. I remember the words as though they were before me now: +'I have dreamed often of a wider field, of reaching out to help the +thousands beyond this little town--it would be wondrous joy.'" + +"Yes?" said Helena in a suppressed voice. + +"In a way," Madison went on gravely, "his dream is already realized. +What has happened here this afternoon will in a few hours be known to +the whole civilized world, and there will be no room for incredulity or +doubt--on whatever ground people see fit to base their belief, they must +still believe; and, believing, they will come here in ever increasing +numbers--but this little village is totally inadequate to accommodate +them. At first, yes, as I said to Mrs. Thornton; but afterwards--no. +Mrs. Thornton's idea, Mr. Thornton's idea and my own, if I may say so, +is to build and endow a great sanatorium that, in consonance with the +Patriarch's ideals, shall be free to all--and we feel that the money for +this purpose will come gladly and spontaneously, as it so appropriately +should come, from those who find joy and peace and health again at the +Patriarch's hands." + +Helena half rose from her chair, as she stole a veiled glance at +Madison. + +"It would be wonderful," she said, with a little catch in her voice. +"And he--it would be the one thing in the world for him. But--but it +would take a great deal of money." + +"Yes," said Madison slowly; "at least half a million." + +Thornton turned toward Madison. + +"As much as that?" he asked tentatively. + +"I should say so," replied Madison thoughtfully. "You see, it's the +endowment after all that is the most important. Say that the building +and equipment cost only a hundred thousand, that would only leave an +income, from the other four hundred thousand at six per cent., of +twenty-four thousand dollars--not enough in itself even, but it would be +augmented of course by the contributions that would still go on." + +Thornton nodded his head. + +"That is so," he agreed; "but there is the time to consider--it would +take a long time to raise that amount." + +"No," said Madison. "A few months at the outside. Thornton"--he reached +out and laid his hand impressively on the other's sleeve--we are not +dealing with ordinary things here--we have witnessed this afternoon a +sight that should teach us that. Here, in this very room, beside us now, +your wife, that little boy, is evidence of power beyond anything we have +ever known before. Have we not that same power to count on still? It +would be an ingrate heart indeed that, owing all, returned nothing." + +"Yes," murmured Mrs. Thornton. "Mr. Madison is right. I know it, I feel +it--the money will come faster than we have any idea of." + +Madison smiled at her quietly. + +"It will come," he said. "People will give their money, their jewels, +anything, and give joyfully--and until the amount in hand is large +enough to warrant beginning operations, Miss Vail naturally will be its +guardian." + +"I?" said Helena hesitatingly. "I--I am only a girl, I would not know +what to do." + +"You would not have to do anything, Miss Vail," Madison informed her +reassuringly. "When the time comes for advice, the making of plans and +the carrying of them out, the brightest minds in this country will be +offered freely and voluntarily, you will see." + +"And meanwhile," inquired Thornton--he had been studying Helena's +profile intently, "would you propose keeping the contributions here?" + +"Of course!" said Madison. "And not only here, but openly displayed as +an added incentive for others to give--if added incentive be needed. +Here, for instance"--he rose as he spoke, went to the mantel over the +fireplace and lifted down a quaint, japanned box, fashioned in the shape +of a little chest, which he placed upon the table. "And here, too"--he +crossed to the bookshelves in the alcove, and took down a very old, +flexible-covered book. "Once," he said, "the Patriarch showed me this. +It was a blank book originally, half of it is blank still; but in the +front, in the Patriarch's own writing, is an essay he wrote in the years +gone by on 'The Power of Faith'--what could be more fitting than that +the remaining pages should be filled with a record of the contributions +to that faith?" He laid the book on the table beside the little chest, +and sat down again. "There is no display, no ornamentation, no attempt +at anything of that kind--it is simplicity, those things serving which +are first at hand--as it seems to me it should be--those who give record +their names and gifts in this book--the little chest to hold the gifts +is open, free to the inspection of all." + +"But is that wise?" demurred Thornton. "So large a sum of money as must +accumulate to be left openly about? Would it not be a temptation to some +to steal? Might it not even endanger Miss Vail and the Patriarch +himself--subject them, indeed, to attack?" + +"I get your idea," said Madison to himself--while he gazed at Thornton +in pained surprise; "but there'll never be more than the day's catch in +the box at a time, though of course you don't know that. You see, we'll +empty it every night, and start it off fresh every morning, with a +trinket or two put back for bait. I'm glad you mentioned it though, it's +a little detail I mustn't forget to speak to the Flopper about." But +aloud he said, and there was a sort of shocked awe in his voice: +"Steal--_here_! In this sacred place! No man would dare--the most +hardened criminal would draw back. Why do even we who sit here speak as +we have been speaking with hushed and lowered voices?--that very sense +of a presence unseen around us, that hovers over us, is a mightier +safeguard than the strongest bolts and locks, than the steel-barred +vaults of any bank. It would seem indeed to profane our own faith even +to entertain such an idea--to me this place is a solemn shrine, and +there is only purity and faith and stillness here, the dwelling place of +a power as compassionate as it is mighty." + +Madison stopped abruptly--and a silence fell. Each seemed busy with +their own thoughts. About them was quiet, stillness, peace--twilight was +falling, and a soft, mellow light was in the room. + +"No one would dare"--the words came from Mrs. Thornton in almost +breathless corroboration, almost of their own accord it seemed, as +though heavy upon her lay the solemnity of her surroundings. + +Madison's hand went to his pocket--slowly he drew out his check-book and +laid it upon the table. + +"I am not a rich man"--his voice was very low, very earnest--"but I feel +that this is something deeper, grander, bigger than anything the world +perhaps has ever known before; something higher and above one's own +self; it seems as though here were the chrysalis that, once developed to +its perfect state, would sweep pain and sorrow from suffering humanity; +it is as though a new, glad era had dawned for all mankind. I am glad +to give and humbly proud to have a part in this." He took out his +fountain pen, opened the check-book, and began to write. + +Thornton leaned forward a little, watching him. + +Silence fell again--there was no sound save the almost inaudible +scratching of Madison's pen. Upon Mrs. Thornton's face was a happy, +radiant smile; Helena's face was impassive, but in the dark eyes lurked +a puzzled light; the two Holmes sat awkwardly, still upon the edges of +their chairs, gazing at their son across the room, incredulously, as +though they still could not believe--and occasionally Mrs. Holmes wiped +her eyes. + +Madison's pen moved on: "Pay to the order of Miss Helena Vail the sum of +ten thousand dollars." He carefully inscribed the amount in numerals in +the lower left-hand corner. "Honest," he confided to himself, as he +signed the check, "I feel so philanthropic I could almost make myself +believe I had this money in the bank." He tore the check from its stub, +and, standing up, handed it to Helena. "I am not a rich man, Miss Vail, +as I said," he smiled gravely, "but I can give this, and I give it with +great joy in my heart." + +Helena took the check, glanced at it, gasped a little, lifted her eyes, +an instant's mocking glint in them, and veiled them quickly with her +long lashes. + +"No"--Madison's hand, palm up, went out protestingly--"no, do not thank +me--it is little enough." He sat down again, drew the Patriarch's blank +book toward him, and, on the line beneath the one where the Patriarch +had ended his essay with the words, "such is the power of faith," wrote +his name and set down the amount of his contribution after it. + +"Ten thousand dollars!"--it was Mrs. Thornton speaking, as she took the +check from Helena. She turned quickly to her husband. "Robert, have you +your check-book here?" + +Thornton shook his head. + +"No, dear," he said. "I'm afraid I haven't." + +"Well, it doesn't matter," said Mrs. Thornton brightly. "You can use one +of Mr. Madison's checks and write the name of your own bank on +it--you've often done that, you know." + +"A suggestion," said Madison to himself, "for which I thank you, Mrs. +Thornton--it sounds so much less crude coming from you than from me." +But aloud he said courteously, "Take my pen, Mr. Thornton." + +"Thank you," said Thornton, as Madison placed it in his hand. + +Mrs. Thornton and her husband had their heads together now, and were +whispering--Thornton with his eyes on Helena, who sat with lowered head, +twirling Madison's check in her hands. Then Thornton drew the check-book +toward him, scratched out the printed name of the bank that it bore, +wrote in another, and went on filling out the check. + +"Eeny-meeny-miny-mo," said Madison to himself. "The suspense is awful. +How much does he raise the ante? Next to the miracle, this is the first +real thrill I've had--I feel like an elevator starting down quick." + +As Madison had done, Thornton tore out the check and handed it to +Helena. Helena stared at it, lifted her eyes to Thornton, flushed--and +looked down at the check again. + +"_Fifty thousand_," she murmured breathlessly. + +"Splendid!" cried Madison enthusiastically, rising from his chair and +pushing the newly established record of contributions toward Thornton. +"Splendid! There's sixty thousand of the five hundred already. +Splendid!" + +Young Holmes ran toward his parents. + +"I want to give too, dad," he whispered. "I want to give too." + +"Reckon so," said Holmes, getting up heavily. "Reckon so--an' I was +a-goin' to. I ain't got much though," he added timorously, as his hand +went into his pocket. + +There was a little exclamation from Helena, and she moved a step forward +as though to interpose. Madison looked at her quickly--and quietly +stepped around the table, placing himself between her and Holmes; and, +facing Holmes, leaned over the table from the far side toward the other. + +"It's not the amount, Holmes," he said kindly. "In the broad, true sense +the amount counts for nothing--all cannot give the same." + +"Yes," said Holmes. "Reckon that's the way I feel." He counted the bills +in his hand, and dropped them into the little japanned box; then +scrawled his name in the book beneath Thornton's, adding the +amount--eight dollars. + +Madison looked around the group benignantly. + +"I think they should know out there what we have done," he said, +pointing toward the lawn. "Let us go and tell them, not in any set +speech, but just simply--each of us speaking to a few--the few will tell +others. Shall we go?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Thornton. "Yes; let us tell them." She turned to Helena +and kissed her. "Try and come often to see me, dear--we shall be here +now for a little while at least. Is it asking too much? Robert will +bring you back and forth from the village. And perhaps, if I may, I will +come out here to see you--may I?" + +"I shall be very glad to do as my wife suggests," said Thornton, holding +out his hand. "You will come, Miss Vail?" + +"You are very good, both of you," Helena answered simply. She raised her +eyes to Thornton--her hand was still in his. "Yes, I will try to come." + +"Oh, break away!" muttered Madison impatiently--but silently. He stepped +to the door and opened it. "Will you lead the way, Mrs. Thornton?" he +said calmly. + +Thornton and his wife passed out; and the Holmes, with clumsy, earnest +words upon their lips to Helena, followed. Madison hung back--then +stepped quickly to Helena. + +"Tear up that check of mine so small you can't find the pieces, Helena," +he said hurriedly; "and send Thornton's right off to any old bank you +like in New York. Endorse it, and write them a note saying you wish to +open an account. Enclose your signature, and tell them to mail back the +bank-book, a check-book, deposit slips and all that. They'll know by the +newspapers that Thornton's subscribed fifty thousand before they get the +check, and they'll feel honored to be your depository. Do it to-night, +understand?" + +"Yes," said Helena, nodding her head. "I'll see to it all right." Then, +a little perturbed: "But those poor Holmes and their eight dollars, Doc, +I--" + +"Now don't be greedy, Helena," said Madison cheerfully. "You mustn't +expect everybody to hand out ten and fifty thousand, just because +Thornton and I did--try and appreciate the little things of life too." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Helena angrily. "Doc Madison, I'd like to--" + +"Yes, all right, of course," interrupted Madison, grinning. "Good-by, +that's all--I'm off--see, they're waiting for me"--and leaving Helena +with an outraged little flush upon her cheek, he hurried through the +door after the others. + + + + +--XIV-- + +KNOTTING THE STRINGS + + +It is a very old saying, and therefore of course indisputably true, that +some have greatness thrust upon them. True of men, it is, in one +instance at least, true of places--Needley, from an unheard of, modest, +innocuous and unassuming little hamlet, leaped in a flash into the focus +of the world's eyes. In huge headlines the papers in every city of every +State carried it on their front pages. And while the first astounding +despatch from the metropolitan newspaper man was being copied by leading +dailies everywhere, there came on top of it, clinching its veracity +beyond possibility of doubt, the news that Robert Thornton, the well +known Chicago multi-millionaire, had given fifty thousand dollars to the +cause. A man, much less a multi-millionaire, does not give fifty +thousand dollars for a bubble, so the managing editors of the leading +dailies rushed for their star reporters--and the star reporters rushed +for Needley--and the red-haired, sorrowful-faced man in the Needley +station grew haggard, tottered on the verge of collapse, and, between +the sheafs of flimsy that the reporters fought for the opportunity of +pushing at him, wired desperately for a relief. + +Needley awoke and came to life--as from the dead. There was bustle, +activity, and suppressed and unsuppressed excitement on every hand--the +Waldorf Hotel once more opened its doors--the Congress Hotel was already +full. + +The reporters interviewed everybody with but one exception--the +Patriarch. + +They interviewed Madison--and Madison talked to them gravely, quietly, a +little self-deprecatingly, a little abashed at the thought of personal +exploitage. + +"I wouldn't be interviewed at all," he told them, "if it were not that +mankind at large is entitled to every bit of evidence that can be +obtained. Yes; I gave what I could afford, but it was Holmes, a poor +man, who gave most of all--have you seen him? Myself? What does that +matter? I am unknown, my personality, unlike Mr. Thornton's, can carry +no weight. I am, I suppose, what you might call a rolling stone, a world +wanderer. My parents left me a moderate fortune, and I have travelled +pretty well and pretty constantly all over the world during the last +twelve or fifteen years. How did I come to Needley? Well, you can call +it luck, or something more than that, whichever way it appeals to you. I +was feeling seedy, a little off-color, and I started down for a rest and +lay-off in Maine. I happened to ask a man in Portland if he knew of a +quiet place. He meant to be humorous, I imagine. He said Needley was the +quietest place he knew of. I took him at his word." + +"But how do you account for these miraculous cures?" they asked. + +"You have seen them--the results," Madison replied. "You know the cures +to be living, vital, irrefutable facts--don't you?" + +"Yes," they agreed. + +"Then," said Madison, "there can be but one answer--faith. There is no +other--faith. Are we not, in view of what has happened, of what exists +before our very eyes, forced to the belief that faith is the greatest +thing, the most potential factor in the world?" + +"And do you believe then that all who come here will be cured?" + +Madison shook his head. + +"Ah, no," he said; "far from it. Many will come with but the semblance +of faith, and for those there can be no cure--that is evident on the +face of it, is it not?" + +They interviewed Thornton--and Thornton, too, talked to them, but the +very presence of Mrs. Thornton was weightier far than words. + +They interviewed the Holmes, and they interviewed Needley individually +and collectively; and they interviewed Helena--but they did not +interview the Patriarch. Here Helena barred their way--they were free to +enter the cottage, to copy the names, the record of gifts inscribed in +the book, already a long list for Needley had required no other +incentive to give than the example that had been set--but that was all. +Quietly, with demure simplicity, Helena, prompted by Madison, like a +priestess who guards some holy, inner shrine, told them that sensational +notoriety had no place there--and the notoriety for that very cause +became the greater! Not that they were denied a sight of the Patriarch's +venerable and saintly form--they were permitted to catch glimpses of him +on the beach, on the lawn, walking with bowed head in meditation, a +figure whose simple majesty inspired words and columns of glowing +tribute--but from personal contact, Helena and the Flopper, always in +attendance, warded them off; retreating always to the privacy of the +cottage, to the inner rooms. + +All this had taken four days; and now, on the fourth day, there came to +Needley the vanguard of those who sought this new healing power--just a +few of them, two or three, like far, outflung skirmishers evidencing the +presence of the army corps to follow. With the reporters, as far as +Madison was concerned, it was simple enough; he had but to let them go +their way, to let them revel in the stories that were on every tongue, +to let them view with their own eyes _facts_, while he, modestly and +diffidently, full of quiet earnestness, effaced himself, never thrusting +himself forward, talking to them only when they pressed him--but the +handling of the sufferers who would flock to Needley in response to a +newspaper publicity and endorsement that had been beyond his wildest +dreams, was quite another matter. Madison viewed the first +arrivals--brought in from the station on cot beds to the Waldorf +Hotel--and retired to his room in the Congress Hotel to wrestle with the +niceties and minutić of the problem. + +"You see," said Madison to the tip of his cigar, as he tilted back his +chair and extended his legs full length with his heels comfortably up on +the table edge, "you see, I believe in faith all right--and that's no +josh. But the trouble with faith is that it's about the scarcest article +on earth--and I haven't got any more Floppers to lead the way." Madison +adroitly sent the cigar ash through the window with a tap of his +forefinger on the body of the cigar--he frowned, and for a long time sat +musingly silent. Then he spoke again; this time addressing the toes of +his boots: "With the house sold out for the season, the box-office doing +itself proud and the audience crazy over the first two acts, how about +Act Three--h'm?--how about Act Three? Kind of a delicate proposition, +the staging of Act Three--and it's time for the curtain to go up. I can +hear 'em stamping out front now. I can't pull off any more orgies like +last Monday afternoon, even if I wanted to--but everybody's got to have +a run for their money. Say, how about Act Three?" + +Madison burned up quite a little tobacco in the interval before supper, +and quite a little more afterward before the setting for his perplexing +"Third Act" appeared to unfold itself satisfactorily before his +mind--indeed, it was close onto half past ten when, by a roundabout +way, he very cautiously and silently approached the Patriarch's cottage. + +In the front of the cottage, the Shrine-room, as he christened it, and +the Patriarch's sleeping room were both dark. Madison passed around to +the beach side--here, Helena's room was dark too, but in the Flopper's +window, the end room next to the kitchen and woodshed, there was a +light. The night was warm, and, though the shade was drawn, the window +was open. Madison whistled softly, and the Flopper stuck out his head. + +"Hello, Flopper," said Madison; "come out here--I want to have a talk +with you. Helena in bed?" + +"No; she's out," replied the Flopper. + +"Well, hurry up!" said Madison. "Come around in front by the trellis +where we can see the other fellow first if anybody happens to be +strolling about." + +Madison withdrew from the window and walked around to the front of the +cottage. Here, a few yards from the porch, by the trellis, already +beginning to be leafy green, was a rustic bench on which he seated +himself. The moon was not full, but there was light enough to enable him +to see across the lawn through the interposing row of maples, and, +hidden by the shadows himself, the seat strategetically met his +requirements. + +Presently, the Flopper came out of the front door and joined him. + +"Say, Doc," announced the Flopper abruptly, "de Patriarch's been askin' +fer youse yesterday an' to-day." + +"Asking?" repeated Madison. + +"Sure," said the Flopper. "He can scrawl if he is blind, can't he? He +scrawls yer name on de slate. We can't tell him nothin', an' he's kinder +got de fidgets like he t'inks youse had flown de coop." + +"That's so," said Madison. "It is rather difficult to communicate with +him, isn't it? I guess we'll have to get him some raised letters." + +"What's them?" inquired the Flopper. + +"I don't know exactly," Madison answered. "I never saw any, but I +believe they have such things. Been asking for me, has he? Well, I'll +fix it to see him to-morrow. Where did you say Helena had gone?" + +"I said she was out," said the Flopper. "If you ask me where, I'd say de +same place as last night an' de night before--down to dat private car +wid his nibs. Say, dere's some class to dat guy all right, an' I guess +Helena ain't got her eyes shut." + +"Hey!" ejaculated Madison. "What do you mean?" + +"Well, he's got de rocks, ain't he?" declared the Flopper. "Why +shouldn't she be after him? Dat's wot we're here fer, ain't it, de whole +bunch of us?--an' she ain't t'rowin' us, is she, if she sees a chanst to +pick up somet'ing on her own?" + +Madison turned quickly on the Flopper. + +"You mean," he said sharply, "that there's something going on between +Helena and Thornton--already?" + +"Aw, stop kiddin'!" said the Flopper. "Already! Wot's 'already' got to +do wid it? We ain't none of us church members, are we? Say, where'd you +pick up Helena yerself--and how long did it take youse? I don't know +whether dere's anyt'ing goin' on or not--mabbe she's only gettin' +lonely--youse ain't hung around her much lately, Doc." + +Madison laughed suddenly. + +"You're talking through your hat, Flopper," he said shortly. "You don't +know Helena." + +"It's a wise guy dat knows skirts," said the Flopper profoundly; then, +with something approaching a sigh: "Say, Doc, dere's a lalapazoozoo, a +peach down here." + +"Hullo!" exclaimed Madison, shooting a hurried and critical glance at +the Flopper in the moonlight. "What's this, Flopper--what's this? What +have you been up to? You're supposed to be attending strictly to +business." + +"An' you needn't t'ink I ain't," asserted the Flopper. "But I can't stop +de town fallin' over itself to bring de whole farmyard, an' eggs, an' +butter, an' flour, an' everyt'ing else out here every mornin', can I? +She's blown in twice wid cream fer de Patriarch." + +"What's her name?" inquired Madison quizzically. + +"Mamie Rodgers," said the Flopper. "She says her old man keeps a store +in de village." + +"I know her," nodded Madison. "Pretty girl and all right, Flopper. But +mind what you're doing, that's all. I don't want any complications to +queer things around here--understand? But let's get down to the business +that I came out about--the lay from now on. You can put Helena wise." + +"Sure," said the Flopper earnestly. + +"Well then, listen," said Madison. "The patients have begun to +arrive--there were three of them in to-day. There's no more circus +parades--everything's under the tent after this. I want you to wean the +Patriarch entirely from that front room--that's to be free for anybody +to enter so's they can drink in atmosphere--and see the contribution +box. But they don't see the Patriarch. Get his armchair into his own +room, make him comfortable there--get the idea? Now, there's no +consultation hours--the Patriarch can't be seen just by asking for +him--the only chance they get at the Patriarch is by an exercise of +patience that'll work their faith up to a pitch that'll do them some +good. The harder it is to get a thing, the more it's worth and the more +you want it--that's the principle. See?" + +"Sure," said the Flopper, licking his lips. + +"Sometimes," Madison went on, "you're to keep the Patriarch under cover +for two or three days, while they hang around working themselves into a +frenzy. And when they do see him they have to scramble for it. You don't +lead him out to them--ever. Make them waylay him when you take him for +a walk--make them crawl and hop and show they've got faith, make them +believe they've got faith themselves--we'll get some more cures, or +near-cures anyway, that way, and we won't get them any other way, and +we've got to have some sort of cures coming along fairly regularly. Do +you get me, Flopper? If there's a party on a cot a hundred yards away +and he begs you to bring the Patriarch to him, say him nay. Everybody +has got to get into the reserved paddock by themselves--tell them that +no man can be cured who has not got the faith to reach the Patriarch by +himself--tell them to get up and _walk_ to him--tell them what you did." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper. "Say, Doc, youse are de one an' only. I +gotcher--put it up to _dem_ everytime." + +"Exactly," said Madison. "It's their move every minute--make them feel +that if they don't get what they're after it's their own fault--that +it's their own lack of faith that's to blame. And the longer they have +to wait to see the Patriarch, the more they become impressed that faith +is necessary, and--oh, well, psychology is the greatest jollier of them +all." + +"Eh?" inquired the Flopper. "I ain't on dere, Doc." + +"It's very simple," smiled Madison, "They'll want to convince themselves +that they _have_ got faith, that it's all bottled up and ready to have +the cork drawn when called for, and they'll prove it to themselves by +laying an offering upon the shrine as evidence of faith _before_ the +goods are delivered." + +"I gotcher!" said the Flopper enthusiastically. "Why say, Doc, dat's de +way I'd do meself--swipe me, if I wouldn't!" + +"That's the way nearly everybody would do," said Madison, laughing. +"There's at least a few similar kinks common to our noble race--we're +busy most of the time trying to fool ourselves one way or another. Well, +that's about all. I can't lay out a programme for every minute of the +day--you and Helena have got to use your heads and work along that +general idea. You play up your gratitude strong. And, oh yes--keep the +altar box well baited. Let Helena put some of her near-diamond rings and +joujabs in until we collect some genuine ones--and then keep the genuine +ones going--change every day for variety, you know. And take the silver +money out every time you see any in--not that we scorn it in the great +aggregate, far from it--it's just psychology again, Flopper. I went to +church once and sat beside a duck with a white waistcoat and chop +whiskers, who wore the dollar sign sticking out so thick all over him +that you couldn't see anything else; and when it came time for +collection he peeled a bill off a roll the size of a house, and waited +for the collection plate to come along. But he got his eye on the plate +a couple of pews ahead and it was full of coppers and chicken feed, and +he did the palming act with the bill slicker than a faro dealer--and +whispered to me to change a quarter for him." + +"And did you?" asked the Flopper anxiously. + +"Oh, wake up, Flopper!" grinned Madison; then, suddenly: "Hullo! Who's +that?" + +Across the lawn, coming through the row of maples from the direction of +the wagon track, appeared two figures. + +"Dat's who," said the Flopper, after gazing an instant. "It's Helena an' +Thornton." + +"So it is," agreed Madison. "Get behind the trellis here then--it +wouldn't do for him to see me out here at this time of night." + +They rose noiselessly from the bench, and slipped quickly behind the +trellis. Toward them, walking slowly came the two figures, Helena +leaning on Thornton's arm. Thornton was talking, but in too low a tone +to be overheard. Then a silence appeared to fall between the two, and it +was not until they reached the porch, close to Madison and the Flopper, +that either spoke again. + +Then Thornton held out his hand. + +"Good-night, Miss Vail--and good-by temporarily," he said. "I suppose I +shall be gone four or five days; I'm going up on the morning train, you +know. I wish you'd go as often as you can to see Naida in the car while +I'm away--will you? Her condition worries me, though she insists that +she is completely cured, and she will not listen to any advice. I have +an idea that she has overtaxed herself--apart from her hip disease, her +heart was in a very critical state. You'll go to her, won't you?" + +"Yes," said Helena, "of course, I will." + +Their voices dropped lower, and for a moment only a murmur reached +Madison; and then, with another "Good-night, Miss Vail," Thornton +started back across the lawn. + +Madison could hear Helena fumbling with the door latch, and by the time +she had succeeded in opening the door the retreating figure of Thornton +was a safe distance away. Madison called in a whisper: + +"Here, Helena! Wait a minute!" + +There was a quick, startled little exclamation from the doorway, and +Helena came out hurriedly from the porch. + +"Who's there?" she cried in a low voice. "Oh"--as they stepped into +view--"you, Doc, and the Flopper! What were you doing behind that +trellis?" + +"Keeping out of Thornton's road," said Madison. "So he's going away, eh? +What for?" + +"Business," replied Helena. "Has to go to some meeting in Chicago--he's +leaving his wife and the private car here. What did you come at this +hour for?" + +"Lines for the next act," said Madison; "but the Flopper's got it all, +and he'll put you on." He stepped toward Helena and slipped his arm +around her waist. "Come on, it's early yet, let's go for a little walk. +The Flopper'll excuse us, and I--" + +"I thought you said," Helena interrupted, disengaging herself quietly, +"that we had to play the game to the limit and take no chances." + +"Well, so I did," admitted Madison, and his arm crept around her again; +"but I guess we've earned a little holiday and--" + +"'Nix on that,' I think was what you said," said Helena with a queer +little laugh, drawing away again. "And I really think you were right, +Doc--we ought to play the game without breaking the rules, and +so--good-night"--and she turned and ran from him into the cottage. + +Madison stared after her in a sort of helpless state of chagrin. + +"Mabbe," said the Flopper, "mabbe she's lonely." + + + + +--XV-- + +A MIRACLE OVERDONE + + +Helena sat in the Patriarch's room, and her piquant little face was +pursed up into a scowl so daintily grim as to be almost ludicrous. The +Patriarch, in his armchair, had been scrawling words upon the slate all +evening--and she had been wiping them off! He scrawled another now--and +mechanically, without looking at it, by way of answer she pressed his +arm to appease him. + +She had been restless all day, and she was restless now. What had +induced her to treat Madison the way she had the night before? Pique, +probably. No; it wasn't pique. It was just getting back at him--and he +deserved it. He hadn't seemed to mind it much, though--he had only +laughed and teased her about it that morning when he had joined the +Patriarch and herself in their walk along the beach. + +With her chin in her hands, she began to study the Patriarch through +half closed eyes--deaf and dumb and blind--and somehow it all seemed +excruciatingly funny and she wanted to laugh hysterically. He seemed to +sense the fact that she was looking at him, and, with quick, instant +intuition, he smiled and reached out his hand toward her. + +Unconsciously, involuntarily, she drew back--then, recovering herself +the next instant, she took his hand. Now, why had she done that? What +was the matter with her? Again she felt that sudden impulse to scream, +or laugh, or shout, or make some noise--it seemed as though she were +penned in, smothered somehow, imprisoned. What _was_ the matter? Nerves? +She had never known what nerves were in all her life! Couldn't she play +the game and act her part without making a fool of herself? She had +played a part all her life, hadn't she? Maybe it was quite a shock to +her system to take a place amongst really good and simple folk! + +She laughed a little shortly--then rose abruptly from her chair, and +began to walk up and down the room. The trouble was that the soft pedal +was getting unbearable. That air of awed hush and solemnity, morning, +noon and night, without anything to relieve it, was just a trifle too +drastic and sudden a change in life for her to accept calmly and swallow +in one dose without feeling any effects from it! If she could be +transported now for an hour, say, to the Roost, or Heligman's and the +turkey trot, or the Rivoli, or any old place--except Needley, Maine! + +"Gee!" said Helena to herself. "If I don't break loose and kick the +traces over for a minute or two, I'll be clawing the bars of a dippy +asylum before I'm through--and just listen to the sweet, girlish +language I'm using--I'd like to bite something!" + +She turned impulsively to the door, stepped out into the hall, and +called the Flopper from his room. + +"Flopper, you go in there and stay with the Patriarch for awhile," she +ordered curtly. "I'm going down on the beach to yell." + +"Yell?" inquired the Flopper, blinking helplessly. + +"I'm going outside to yell--_yell._ You know what 'yell' means, don't +you?" she snapped. + +"Swipe me!" observed the Flopper, gazing at her anxiously. "Skirts is +all de same--youse never know wot dey'll do next. Wot you wanter yell +fer?" + +"You mind your own business and do as you're told!" said Helena tartly. +"Go in there and stay with the Patriarch." + +"Sure," said the Flopper, grinning a little now. "Sure t'ing--but youse +needn't get on yer ear about it. Cheer up, mabbe de Doc'll be out +to-night, an' if he don't hear youse yellin' himself will I tell him +youse are out on de beach t'rowin' a fit?" + +"No," Helena answered sharply; "tell him nothing--I'm out." Then, quite +as quickly, changing her mind: "Yes; tell him I'm down there--or come +and get me yourself"--and she walked abruptly into her own room. + +"Now wot do youse t'ink of dat?" demanded the Flopper of the universe. +He blinked at the door she had closed in his face. "Say," he asserted, +with sublime inconsistency, "if Mamie Rodgers was like all de rest of +dem, I'd t'row up me dukes before de gong rang." The Flopper went into +the Patriarch's room, and took the chair beside the other that Helena +had vacated. "Swipe me, if I wouldn't!" he added fervently, by way of +confirmation. + +Helena, in her own room, opened one of her trunks, lifted out the tray, +worked somewhat impatiently down through several layers of yellow, +paper-covered literature, that would have made the classics on the +Patriarch's bookshelves shrivel up and draw their skirts hurriedly +around them in righteous horror could they but have known or been +capable of such intensely human characteristics, and finally produced a +daintily jewelled little cigarette case and match box. She slammed the +tray back, slammed the cover of the trunk down, snatched up a wrap, +flung it over her head and shoulders--and left the cottage. + +She ran down to the beach at top speed, as if she couldn't get there +fast enough. + +"And now I'm just going to yell and go crazy as much as ever I like!" +panted Helena to the rollers. + +Instead, she sat down with her back to a rock, and opened her cigarette +case. She took out a cigarette, extracted a match from the match box, +lighted the match--and flung both cigarette and match from her. + +"I don't want to be crazy--I don't know what I want," said Helena +petulantly. Her chin went into her hands, and she stared wide-eyed at +the breaking surf. "I wonder what it all means?" she murmured, with a +mirthless little laugh. + +Her thoughts began to run riot. What _did_ it all mean? What was this +faith? There was, there _must_ be something in it. There was the Holmes +boy--suppose it _was_ only some nervous disorder--well, something had +risen superior to whatever it was and had _cured_ him. There was Naida +Thornton--true, she was ill again--her heart, Mr. Thornton had said--but +she could still walk, a thing she had not been able to do for a long +time until she came to Needley. + +Helena laughed again--oh, it was a good game! The Doc had made no +mistake about that--but then, when it came to planting anything the Doc +rarely did make a mistake. Fancy fifty thousand dollars in one haul! +_Fifty thousand in one haul!_ The bank had sent her a passbook with that +amount to her credit. And that was only the beginning--hardly anybody +had come yet, and already there was several hundred dollars more in real +money that she had handed over to Madison from the offering box. + +Money! They'd have more money than they'd know what to do with before +they got through--there was nothing the matter with the game--all there +was to do was to play it to a finish. And there wasn't the slightest +risk about it--everything was given voluntarily. Oh, the game was all +right--but somehow she wasn't happy--not nearly so happy as she had +been in New York, even in lean periods when she and the Doc had been +pressed for money. But, anyway, then they had been together, and fought, +and laughed, and loved, and quarrelled through flush times and bad. + +Maybe that was it! The Doc! Of course, she loved him--she had loved him +ever since she had known him. There was no secret about that--she loved +him fiercely, passionately, more than she loved anything else in the +world, with all the love she was capable of--more than he loved her--he +seemed to accept her, too often, so casually, so indifferently, so much +as a matter of course. He was so confidently and complacently sure of +her--and she was not at all sure of him. She was only sure that he was +quite right in being sure--she couldn't help loving him if she tried. + +She had hardly seen anything of him since that night in the Roost before +he had left for Needley--and he hadn't seemed to care much whether she +did or not. That talk about playing the game and taking no chances was +all bosh--there had been plenty of chances where it wouldn't have hurt +the game any. Perhaps the little jolt she had given him last night, +turning the tables a little, would wake him up a bit. Perhaps, as the +Flopper had said, he would come out to-night, and-- + +"Helena! Helena!" + +Helena sat suddenly upright--the noise of the surf muffled the sound of +the voice, but that was probably Doc now--she could hear footsteps +running from the direction of the cottage. Deliberately, Helena leaned +back again against the rock, took out a cigarette and with no attempt to +shade the flame of the match, rather to use it as a challenging beacon, +held it to the cigarette--but for the second time she flung both match +and cigarette hurriedly away. It wasn't Madison at all--it was only the +Flopper. + +"Say!" gasped the Flopper, blowing hard. "Why can't youse answer when +yer called? Wot you tryin' ter do--light a bonfire ter save yer voice? +Say, youse wanter get a wiggle on--beat it--quick! Dey're after you." + +"What?" cried Helena sharply, jumping to her feet. "After me? Who? What +do you mean?" + +"I dunno," said the Flopper with sudden imperturbability--and evidently +quite pleased with the agitation he had caused. "He talks like his mouth +was full, an' he's got a scare t'rown inter him so's his teeth have got +de jiggles." + +Helena caught the Flopper's arm and shook him angrily. + +"What are you talking about--what is it?" she demanded fiercely. + +"It's de porter from de private car," said the Flopper, wriggling away +from her. "He drove out here. De lady's on de toboggan--sick. She's +askin' fer youse an'--" + +Helena waited for no more. She raced to the cottage and around to the +front. A wagon was standing before the porch; the negro porter on the +seat. + +"What is it, Sam?" she called anxiously, as she came up. "Is Mrs. +Thornton seriously ill?" + +"Yas--yas'um, miss," Sam answered excitedly. "I done feel in mah bones +she's gwine to die. Miss Harvey she done tole me to get a team an' drive +foh you-all like de debbil." + +Without waste of words, Helena clambered in beside him. + +"Then drive," she said shortly. "Drive as fast as you can." + +At first, as they drove along, Helena plied Sam with questions--and then +lapsed into silence. The man did not know very much--only that Mrs. +Thornton had been taken suddenly ill, and that the nurse had sent him on +the errand that had brought him to the cottage. A turmoil of conflicting +emotions filled Helena's mind, obtruding upon her anxiety, for she had +grown to care a great deal for Naida Thornton--this was a complication +that Doc Madison must know about--Thornton had left that morning and was +already far away--the newspaper men, or some of them at least, were +still in the town--and there were so many things else--they all came +crowding upon her, as she clung to her seat in the jolting wagon. But +Doc must know--that rose a paramount consideration. It seemed an age, an +eternity before they stopped finally at the station. + +She sprang out and turned to Sam. + +"Sam," she directed hurriedly, "you go back to the Congress Hotel and +get Mr. Madison. Mr. Madison is a friend of Mr. Thornton's, you know. Go +about it quietly--you needn't let any one know what you came for. You +can tell Mr. Madison what the trouble is--and tell him that I sent you, +and that I am here. Do you understand?" + +"Yas'um, mum," said Sam impressively. "Just you done leab all that to +me, missy." + +Across the track on the siding, the private car was dimly lighted, the +window curtains down. Helena crossed the track and mounted the steps. As +she reached the platform, Miss Harvey, who had evidently heard her +coming, opened the door and drew her quietly inside. + +A glance at the nurse's face brought a sudden chill to Helena's heart. +Miss Harvey, capable, controlled, grave, smiled at her a little sadly. + +"I sent for you, Miss Vail," she said in a low tone, "because Mrs. +Thornton has been asking for you incessantly ever since the attack came +on three-quarters of an hour ago." + +"You mean," said Helena, "that--that there is--" + +"No hope," the nurse completed. "I am afraid there is none--it is her +heart. The condition has been aggravated by her activity during the last +few days since she has been able to walk--though I have done everything +within my power to keep her quiet." Miss Harvey laid her hand on +Helena's arm. "There is one thing, Miss Vail, I feel that I must say to +you, in justice both to you and to myself, before you see her. Whatever +my personal ideas may be of what has taken place here, my professional +duty as a nurse demanded that I send for a doctor at once, and I want +you to know that is what I did, though I have not been successful in +getting one. There is no doctor here, so I telegraphed; but the doctor +at Barton's Mills is away." + +"Yes," said Helena mechanically. + +"I just wanted you to understand," said Miss Harvey. "Will you come and +see Mrs. Thornton now?" + +"Does she know," whispered Helena, as she followed the nurse down the +corridor of the car, "does she know that--how ill she is?" + +"Yes," Miss Harvey answered simply. She stopped before a compartment +door, opened it softly, and, stepping aside, motioned Helena to enter. + +A little cry rose to Helena's lips that she choked back somehow, and a +mist for a moment blinded her eyes--then she was kneeling beside the +brass bed, and was holding in both her own the hand that was stretched +out to her. + +"Helena--dear--I am so glad you came," said Mrs. Thornton faintly. "I--I +am not going to get better, and there are some things I want to say to +you." + +"Oh, but you are," returned Helena quickly, smiling bravely now. "You +mustn't say that." + +Mrs. Thornton shook her head. + +"Dear," she said, "I know. And I know that what I have to say I must +say quickly." Her voice seemed to grow suddenly stronger with a great +earnestness. "Listen, dear. This must not make any difference to this +wonderful work that has just begun here. I was cured of my hip +disease--perfectly cured--no one can deny that--this is my own fault, I +have overdone it--I would not listen to reason--to do what I have done +in the last few days, when for a year and a half I had never moved a +step, was more than my heart could stand. I should have been more +quiet--but I was so glad, so happy--and I wanted to tell everybody--I +wanted all the world to know, so that others could find the joy that I +had found." + +She paused--and Helena sought for words that, somehow, would not come. + +The nurse was bending over the bed on the other side, and Mrs. Thornton +turned her head toward Miss Harvey now. She smiled gently, as though to +rob her words of any possible hurt. + +"Nurse, I want--to be alone with Miss Vail for just a moment." + +Miss Harvey, doubtful, hesitated. + +"Only for a moment," pleaded Mrs. Thornton. "You can stay just outside +the door." + +Reluctantly, Miss Harvey complied, and left the room. + +Mrs. Thornton pressed Helena's hand tightly. + +"Listen, dear--this must not make any difference. It--it is the one +thing that will make me happy now--to know that. I--I have written a +little note to Robert about it, to be given to him. Oh, if I could only +have lived to help--I should have tried so hard to be worthy to have a +part in it. Not like you, dear, with your sweetness and nobleness, for +God seems to have singled you out for this--but just to have had a +little part. How wonderful it would have been, bringing peace and health +and gladness where only sorrow and misery was before, and--and--" + +Mrs. Thornton's eyes closed, and she lay for a moment quiet. + +A blackness seemed to settle upon Helena--and how cold it was! She +shivered. Her dark eyes, wide, tearless now, stared, startled, dazed, at +the white face on the pillow crowned with its mass of golden hair. Her +sweetness! Her nobleness! Helena's lips half parted and her breath came +in quick, fierce, little gasps--it seemed as though she had been struck +a blow that she could not quite understand because somehow it had numbed +her senses--only there was a hurt that curiously, strangely seemed to +mock as it stabbed with pain. + +"There is Robert"--Mrs. Thornton spoke again--"I am sure he will do as I +have asked him to do about this, but--you can have a great deal of +influence with him. It--it perhaps may seem a strange thing to say, but +I pray that you two may be brought very close to each other. Robert +needs a good, true woman so much in his life--and I--we--we--my +illness--we have never had a home in its truest sense. Yes, it is +strange for me perhaps to talk like this--but it is in my heart. I would +like to think of you both engaged in this wonderful work together." + +Again, through exhaustion, Mrs. Thornton stopped--and Helena, from +gazing at the other's pallid countenance in a sort of involuntary, +frightened fascination, dropped her head suddenly upon the bed-spread +and hid her face. + +Mrs. Thornton's hand found Helena's head and rested upon it. + +"I would like to see Robert happy," she murmured, after a little +silence. "Riches do not make happiness--they are so sad and empty a +thing when the heart is empty. I know he would be happy with you--he has +spoken so much of you lately--perhaps--perhaps--" + +Mrs. Thornton's voice was very faint--the words reached Helena plainly +enough as words, but they seemed to reach her consciousness in an +unreal, unnatural, blunted way, coma-like--pregnant of significance, yet +with the significance itself elusive, evading her. + +"A good woman," whispered Mrs. Thornton, "I have tried to be a good +woman--but--but my life, our wealth, our position has made it so +artificial. You have never known these things, dear--and so you are just +as God made you--good woman, so pure, so wonderful in your freshness and +your innocence. Robert's life has been so barren--so barren. I would +like to know that--that it will not always be so. Oh, if it could only +be that you and he should carry on this great, glad work together--and +love should come into his life--and yours--and sunshine--promise me, +dear, that--" + +The voice died away. Helena, with head still buried, waited for Mrs. +Thornton to speak again. It seemed she waited for a great length of +time--and yet there was no such thing as time. It seemed as though she +were transported to a place of great and intense blackness where it was +miserably cold and chill, and she stood alone and lost, and strove to +find her way--and there was no way--only blackness everywhere, +immeasurable. She lifted her head suddenly, desperately, to shake the +unreality from her--and her eyes fell upon the gentle face, peaceful, +smiling, calm, and so _still_--and a startled, frightened cry rang from +her lips. + +There was the quick, hurried rush of some one coming into the room, and +the nurse brushed by her and bent instantly over the bed--after that, +quite soon after that it seemed, and yet it might have been quite a +little while, she found herself outside in the corridor and the nurse +was speaking to her. + +"Sam is still out there," said Miss Harvey gently. "I told him to keep +the team. You cannot help me, and I want you to go home, dear. And will +you ask Sam to go for Mr. Madison at the hotel on the way back--I do not +know who else I can call upon for advice." + +"I've sent for him already," said Helena numbly. + +"Have you, dear?" Miss Harvey said. "That was very thoughtful of +you--I'm sure he'll be here presently then. And now, dear, it is much +better that you should go." + +There were no tears in Helena's eyes as she stepped down from the car +vestibule to the tracks--only a drawn misery in her face. That was Doc +over there, pacing up and down on the platform in the darkness--wasn't +it weird the way his cigar glowed bright and then went out and then +glowed bright again--like a gigantic firefly! + +She was across the tracks before he saw her, then, hurrying forward, he +helped her to the platform. + +"Well?" he asked quickly. + +Helena did not answer. + +Madison took the cigar from his lips, leaned forward, and peered into +Helena's face--then drew back with a low whistle. + +"Dead?" he said. + +Helena nodded. + +"Miss Harvey wants to see you," she said. + +"Say," said Madison slowly, "first crack out of the box this looks bad, +don't it? If this gets around here without a muffler on it, it might +make the railroad companies hang fire with those circulars for excursion +rates to Needley--what?" + +"I--I think I hate you!" Helena cried out suddenly, passionately. +"She's--she's dead--and that's all you think about!" + +Madison stared at Helena for a moment calmly. + +"Now, look here, Helena," said he quietly, "don't get excited. Of +course I'm sorry--I'm not a brute and I've got feelings--but I can't +afford to lose my head. Something's got to be done, and done quick. We +don't want this headlined in every paper in the United States to-morrow +morning--Thornton wouldn't want it either. You say Miss Harvey wants to +see me? Well, that'll help some--she'll probably do as she's told, +and--" + +Madison paused abruptly, gazed abstractedly at the private car across +the tracks on the siding, and pulled at his cigar. + +Helena watched him in silence--a little bitterly. That quick, clever, +cunning brain of his was at work again--scheming--scheming--always +scheming--and Naida Thornton was dead. + +"I'll tell you," said Madison, speaking again as abruptly as he had +stopped. "It's simple enough. There's a westbound train due in an hour +or so--we'll couple the private car onto that and send it right along to +Chicago. What the authorities don't know won't hurt them. There's no +reason for anybody except Thornton to know what's happened till she gets +there--I'll wire him. The main thing is that the car won't be here in +the morning, and that'll take a little of the intimate touch of Needley +off. It might well have happened on her way home--journey too much for +her--left too soon--see? Thornton'll see it in the right light because +he's got fifty thousand dollars worth of faith in what's going on +here--get that? He won't want to harm the 'cause.' There'll be some +publicity of course, we can't help that--but it won't hurt much--and +Thornton can gag a whole lot of it--he'd want to anyway for his own +sake. Now then, kid, there's Sam over there--you pile into the wagon and +go home, while I get busy--and don't you say a word about this, even to +the Flopper." + +And so Helena drove back to the Patriarch's cottage that night, a little +silent figure in the back seat of the wagon--and her hands were locked +tightly together in her lap--and to her, as she drove over the peaceful, +moonlit road, and under the still, arched branches of the trees in the +wood that hid the starlight, came again and again the words of one who +had gone, who perhaps knew better now--"you are as God made you." + + + + +--XVI-- + +A FLY IN THE OINTMENT + + +The days passed. And with the days, morning, noon and night, they came +by almost every train, the sick and suffering, the lame, the paralytics +and the maimed--a steady influx by twos and threes and fours--from north +over the Canadian boundary line, from the far west, and from the +southernmost tip of the Florida coast. No longer on the company's +schedule was Needley a flag station--it was a regular stop, and its +passenger traffic returns were benign and pleasing things in the +auditor's office. And it was an accustomed sight now, many times a +day--what had once been a strange, rare spectacle--that slow procession +wending its way from the station to the town, some carried, some limping +upon crutches, all snatching at hope of life and health and happiness +again. Needley, perforce, had become a vast boarding house, as it +were--there were few homes indeed that did not harbor their quota of +those who sought the "cure." + +But there were others too who came--who were not sick--who had not +faith--who came to laugh and peer and peek. Pleasure yachts dropped +their anchors in the cove around the headland from the Patriarch's +cottage--and their dingeys brought women decked out _de rigeur_ in middy +blouses and sailor collars, and nattily attired gentlemen whose only +claim to seamanship was the clothes, or rather, the costumes that they +wore. + +They came laughing, supercilious, tolerant, contemptuous, pitying the +inanity of those they held less strongly-minded than themselves who +should be taken in by so apparent, glaring and monstrous a fake. They +came because it was the rage, the thing to do, quite the thing to do, +quite a necessary part of the summer's itinerary. But that they, should +they have been sick, would ever have dreamed of coming there was too +perfectly ridiculous an idea for words. How strange a thing is the human +animal! + +They came in their rather cruel, merciless gaiety--and they left sobered +and impressed; the ladies holding their embroidered parasols at a less +jaunty angle; the men with lightened pockets, their names enrolled in +the contribution book in that quiet, simple room, whose door was open, +whose cash-box was unguarded, where none asked them to either enter or +withdraw. They came and found no air of charlatanism such as they had +looked for--only a peaceful, unostentatious, patient air of sincerity +that left them remorseful and abashed. They came and went, a source of +revenue not counted on or thought of before by Madison; but a source +that swelled the coffers, brimming fuller day by day, to overflowing. + +In three weeks from the night of Mrs. Thornton's death, which had had at +least no visible effect on Needley, Needley was metamorphosed--with a +spontaneity, so to speak, that astounded even Madison himself--into +something that approximated very closely in reality the word-picture he +had drawn of it that night in the Roost. Madison looked upon his work +and saw that it was pleasing beyond his dreams. Money was pouring in--no +single breath of suspicion came to disquiet him. Even the cures were +working satisfactorily--even Pale Face Harry, who had become great +friends with the farmer at whose house he boarded, and who now spent +most of his time in the fields, was showing an improvement--Pale Face +Harry coughed less. The Flopper was as happy as a lark--and Mamie +Rodgers blushed now at mention of the name of Coogan. Helena, demure, +adored by all who saw her, went daily about her housework in the +cottage, and waited upon the Patriarch with gentle tenderness; while the +Patriarch, docile, full of supreme trust and confidence in every one, +radiant in Helena's companionship, was as putty in their hands. And so +Madison looked upon his work and saw no flaw--but with the days he grew +ill at ease. + +"It's too easy," he told himself. "I guess that's it--it's too easy. The +whole show runs itself. Why, there's nothing to do but count the cash!" + +And yet in his heart he knew that wasn't it--it was Helena. Helena was +beginning to trouble him a little. She was playing the game all +right--playing it to the limit--and making a hit at every performance. +Her name was on every tongue, and men and women alike spoke of her +sweetness, her goodness, her loveliness. Well, that was all right, +Helena was a star no matter where you put her--but something was the +matter. Helena wasn't the Helena of a month ago back in little old New +York. He hadn't managed to get a dozen words with her since that night +on the station platform, without taking chances and gaining admission to +the cottage through the Flopper's window after dark--and then she had +held him at arm's length. + +"The matter with me?" she had said. "There isn't anything the matter +with me--is there? I'm--I'm playing the game." + +It certainly couldn't be grief over Mrs. Thornton's death--she had begun +to act that way before Mrs. Thornton died--that night when she came home +with Thornton, and he and the Flopper were behind the trellis. Thornton! +Had Thornton anything to do with it, after all? No--Madison had laughed +at it then, and he had much more reason to laugh at it now. Thornton was +still in Chicago, and hadn't been back to Needley. + +For three weeks this sort of thing occupied a considerably larger share +of Madison's thoughts than he was wont to allow even the most vexing +problems to disturb his usually imperturbable and complacent self--and +then one afternoon, he smiled a little grimly, and, leaving the hotel, +started along the road toward the Patriarch's cottage. + +"What Helena needs is--a jolt!" said Madison to himself. "I guess her +trouble is one of those everlasting feminine kinks that all women since +Adam's wife have patted themselves on the back over, because they think +it's a dark veil of mystery that is beyond the acumen of brute man to +understand. That's what the novelists write pages about--wade right in +up to the armpits in it--feminine psychology--great! And the women smile +commiseratingly at the novelist--the idea of a man even pretending to +understand them--kind of a blooming merry-go-round and everybody happy! +Feminine psychology! I guess a little masculine kick-up is about the +right dope! What the deuce have I been standing for it for? I don't have +to--I don't have to go around making sheep's-eyes at her--what? She +wants grabbing up and being rushed right off her feet _ŕ la_ Roost, +and--hello, Mr. Marvin, how are you to-day!"--he had halted beside a +middle-aged man who was sitting on the grass at the roadside. + +"Better, Mr. Madison, better," returned the man, heartily. "Really very +much better." + +"Fine!" said Madison. + +"We all saw the Patriarch to-day--God bless him!" said Marvin. "We've +been waiting out there two days, you know--that woman with the bad back +got up off her stretcher." + +"Splendid!" exclaimed Madison enthusiastically. "And the glorious thing +about it is that there's no reason why everybody can't be cured if +they'll only come here in the right spirit." + +"That's so!" agreed Marvin. "None are so blind as those who won't +see--they're in utter blackness compared with the physical blindness of +that grand and marvelous man. I'm going home myself in another +week--better than ever I was in my life. It was stomach with me, you +know--doctors said there wasn't any chance except to operate, and that +an operation was too slim a chance to be worth risking it." He got up +and laughed, carefree, joyous. "God-given place down here, isn't it? +Clean--that's it. Clean air, clean-souled people, clean everything you +see or do or hear. Say, it kind of opens your eyes to real living, +doesn't it--it's the luxuries and the worries and the pace and the +damn-fooleries that kill. Well, I'm going along back now to get some of +Mrs. Perkins' cream--clean, rich cream--and homemade bread and +butter--imagine me with an appetite and able to eat!" + +He laughed again--and Madison joined him in the laugh, slapping him a +cordial good-by on the shoulder. + +Madison started on once more--but now his progress was slow, frequently +interrupted, for he stopped a score of times to chat and exchange a few +words with those whom he passed on the road. There were cheery faces +everywhere--even those of the sufferers who straggled out along the +road coming back from the Patriarch's cottage. It was a cheery +afternoon, warm and balmy and bright--everything was cheery. The +farmers, their vocations for the moment changed, waved their whips at +him and shouted friendly pleasantries as they drove by with those who +were unable to make the trip from the Patriarch's unaided. + +Madison began to experience a strange, exhilarating sense of uplift upon +him, a sort of rather commendatory and gratified feeling with himself. +Marvin had hit it pretty nearly right with his "clean-wholesomeness" +idea--it kind of made one feel good to be a part of it. Madison, for the +time being, relegated Helena and his immediate mission to a secondary +place in his thoughts. + +Young girls, young men, middle-aged men, elderly women, all ages of both +sexes he passed as he went along; some alone, some in couples, some in +little groups, some on crutches, some in wheel-chairs, some walking +without extraneous aid--he had turned into the woods now, and he could +see them strewn out all along the wagon track under the cool, +interlacing branches overhead. + +Now he stepped aside to let a wagon pass him, and answered the farmer's +call and the smile of the occupants in kind; now some one stopped to +tell him again the story of the afternoon--there had been cures that day +and the Patriarch had come amongst them. Some laughed, some sang a +little, softly, to themselves--all smiled--all spoke in glad, hopeful +words, clean words--there seemed no base thought in any mind, only that +cleanness, that wholesomeness that had so appealed to Marvin--that +somehow Madison found he was taking a delight in responding to, and, +because it afforded him whimsical pleasure, chose to pretend that he was +quite a genuine exponent of it himself. + +He reached the end of the wagon track, and paused involuntarily on the +edge of the Patriarch's lawn as he came out from the trees. Like low, +lulling music came the distant, mellowed noise of waters, the breaking +surf. And the cottage was a bower of green now, clothed in ivy and +vine--upon the trellises the early roses were budding--fragrance of +growing things blended with the salt, invigorating breeze from the +ocean. And upon the lawn, flanked with its sturdy maples, all in leaf, +that toned the sunshine in soft-falling shadows, stood, or sat, or +reclined on cots, the supplicants who still tarried though the Patriarch +had gone. And now one came reverently out of the cottage door from that +room that was never closed; now another went in--and still another. + +Madison smiled suddenly, broadly, with immense satisfaction and +contentment--and then his eyes fixed quite as suddenly on the +single-seated buggy that was coming toward him on the driveway across +the lawn. That was Mamie Rodgers driving--and that was Helena beside +her. + +Madison recalled instantly the object of his visit--and instantly he +whistled a rather surprised little whistle under his breath. How +alluringly Helena's brown hair coiled in wavy wealth upon her head; +there wasn't any need of rouge for color in the oval face; the dark eyes +were soft and deep and glorious; and she sat there in a little white +muslin frock as dainty as a medallion from a master's brush. + +"Say," said Madison to himself, "say, I never quite got it before. Say, +she's--she's lovely--and that's my Helena. It's no wonder +Thornton stared at her that day we touched him for the fifty, +and"--suddenly--"damn Thornton!" + +But the buggy was beside him now, and he lifted his hat as Mamie Rodgers +pulled up the horse. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Rodgers," he said. "Good afternoon, Miss Vail--how +is the Patriarch to-day?" + +"He is very well, thank you," Helena answered--and being custodian of +the whip brushed a fly off the horse's flank. + +"I was just coming out to pay you a little visit," remarked Madison, +trying to catch her eye. + +"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!" said Helena sweetly, still busy with the fly. +"Mamie is going to take me for a drive--and afterwards we are going to +her house for tea." + +"Oh!" said Madison, a little blankly. + +Helena smiled at him, nodded, and touched the horse with the whip--and +then she leaned suddenly out toward him, as the buggy started forward. + +"Oh, Mr. Madison," she called, "I forgot to tell you! I had a letter +from Mr. Thornton to-day--and he's coming back to-morrow." + + + + +--XVII-- + +IN WHICH HELENA TAKES A RIDE + + +The wind kissed Helena's face, bringing dainty color to her cheeks, +tossing truant wisps of hair this way and that, as the car swept onward. +But she sat strangely silent now beside Thornton at the steering wheel. + +It seemed to her that she was living, not her own life, not life as she +had known and looked upon it in the years before, but living, as it +were, in a strange, suspended state that was neither real nor unreal, as +in a dream that led her, now through cool, deep forests, beside clear, +sparkling streams where all was a great peace and the soul was at rest, +serene, untroubled, now into desolate places where misery had its birth +and shame was, where there was fear, and the mind stood staggered and +appalled and lost and knew not how to guide her that she might flee from +it all. + +At moments most unexpected, as now when motoring with Thornton in the +car that he had brought back with him on, his return to Needley, when +laughing at the Flopper's determined pursuit of Mamie Rodgers, when +engaged in the homely, practical details of housekeeping about the +cottage, there came flashing suddenly upon her the picture of Mrs. +Thornton lying on the brass bed in the car compartment that night, every +line of the pale, gentle face as vivid, as actual as though it were once +more before her in reality, and in her ears rang again, stabbing her +with their unmeant condemnation, those words of sweetness, love and +purity that held her up to gaze upon herself in ghastly, terrifying +mockery. + +It stupified her, bewildered her, frightened her. She seemed, for days +and weeks now, to be drifting with a current that, eddying, swirling, +swept her this way and that. How wonderful it was, this life she was now +leading compared with the old life--so full of the better things, the +better emotions, the better thoughts that she had never known before! +How monstrous in its irony that she was leading it to _steal_, that she +might play her part in a criminal scheme for a criminal end! And yet, +somehow, it did not all seem sham, this part she played--and that very +thought, too, frightened her. Why was it now that Madison's +oft-attempted, and as oft-repulsed, kiss upon her lips was something +from which she shrank and battled back, no longer from a sense of pique +or to bring him to his knees, but because something new within her, +intangible, that she did not understand, rose up against it! Why did she +do this--she, who had known the depths, who had known no other guide or +mentor than the turbulent, passionate love she had yielded him and in +her abandonment had once found contentment! Was her love for him gone? +Or, if it was not that--what was it? + +What was it? A week, another, two more, a month had slipped away since +Thornton had returned, and there had been so much of genuineness crowded +into this sham part of hers that it seemed at times the part itself was +genuine. She had come to love that little room of hers, love it for its +dear simplicity, the white muslin curtains, the rag mat, the patch-quilt +on the bed; those daily duties of a woman, that she had never done +before, that she had at first looked at askance, brought now a sense of +keen, housewifely pride; the gentle patience of the Patriarch, his love +for her, his simple trust in her had found a quick and instant response +in her own heart, and daily her affection for him had grown; and there +was Thornton--this man beside her, whose companionship somehow she +seemed to crave for, who, in his grave, quiet manliness, seemed a sort +of inspiration to her, who seemed in a curious way to appease a new +hunger that had come to her for association, for contact with better +thoughts and better ideals. + +What was it? Environment? Yes; there must be something in that. It was +having its effect even on Pale Face Harry and the Flopper. What was it +that Harry, a surprisingly lusty farmhand now, had said to her a week or +so ago: "Say, Helena, do you ever feel that while you was trying to kid +the crowd about this living on the square, you was kind of getting +kidded yourself? I dunno! I ain't coughed for a month--honest. But it +ain't only that. Say--I dunno! Do you ever feel that way?" + +Yes; there must be something in environment. The old life had never +brought her thoughts such as these, thoughts that had been with her now +almost since the first day she had come to Needley--this disquiet, this +self-questioning, these sudden floods of condemnatory confusion; and, +mingling with them, a startled thrill, a strange, half-glad, +half-premonitory awakening, a vague pronouncement that innately it might +be true that she was not what she _really_ was--but what all those +around her held her to be--what Mrs. Thornton had said she was--and-- + +Her fingers closed with a quick, fierce pressure on the arm-rest of her +seat--and she shifted her position with a sudden, involuntary movement. + +Thornton, a road-map tacked on a piece of board and propped up at his +feet, raised his head, and, self-occupied himself, had apparently not +noticed her silence, for he spoke irrelevantly. + +"I hope you won't mind if the road is a bit rougher than usual for a few +miles," he said; "but you know we decided we didn't like the looks of +the weather at tea-time, and according to the map, which labels it +'rough but passable,' this is a short cut that will lop off about ten +miles and take us back to Needley through Barton's Mills." + +"Of course, I don't mind," Helena answered. "How far are we from +Needley?" + +"About thirty-five miles or so," Thornton replied. "Say, an hour and a +half with any kind of going at all. We ought to be back by nine." + +Helena nodded brightly and leaned back in her seat. Rather than +objecting to the short cut that Thornton had begun to negotiate, the +road, now that she gave her attention to it, she found to be quite the +prettiest bit she had seen in the whole afternoon's run, where, in the +rough, sparsely settled north country, all was both pretty and a +delight--miles and miles without the sign of even a farmhouse, just the +great Maine forests, so majestic and grand in their solitude, bordering +the road that undulated with the country, now to a rise with its +magnificent sweep of scenery, now to the cool, fresh valleys full of the +sweet pine-scent of the woods. They had explored much of it together in +the little 'run-about,' nearly every day a short spin somewhere; to-day +a little more ambitious run--the whole afternoon, and tea, a picnic tea, +an hour or more back, in a charming glade beside a little brook. + +"Oh, this is perfectly lovely!" she exclaimed; and then, with a +breathless laugh, as a bump lifted her out of her seat: "It _is_ +rough--isn't it?" + +Thornton laughed and slowed down. + +"I don't fancy it's used much, except in the winter for logging. But if +the map says we can get through, I guess we're all right--there's about +an eight mile stretch of it." + +It was growing dusk, and the shadows, fanciful and picturesque; were +deepening around them. Now it showed a solid mass of green ahead, and, +like a sylvan path, the road, converging in the distance, lost itself in +a wall of foliage; now it swerved rapidly, this way and that, in short +curves, as though, like one lost, it sought its way. + +A half hour passed. Thornton stopped the car, got down and lighted his +lamps, then started on again. The going had seemed to be growing +steadily worse--the road, as Thornton had said, was little more indeed +than a logging trail through the heart of the woods; and now, deeper in, +with increasing frequency, the tires slipped and skidded on damp, moist +earth that at times approached very nearly to being oozy mud. + +Silence for a long while had held between them. It was taking Thornton +all his time now to guide the car, that, negotiating fallen branches +strewn across the way, bad holes and ruts, was crawling at a snail's +pace. + +"'Rough but passable'!" he laughed once, clambering back to his seat +after clearing away a dead tree-trunk from in front of them. "But +there's no use trying to go back, as we must be halfway through, and it +can't be any worse ahead than it's been behind. I'd like to tell the +fellow that made this map something!" + +And then upon Helena, just why she could not tell, began to steal an +uneasiness that frightened her a little. It had grown suddenly, +intensely dark--quicker than the slow, creeping change of dusk blending +softly into night. Sort of eerie, it seemed--and a wind springing up and +rustling through the branches made strange noises all about. They seemed +to be shut in by a wall of blackness on every hand, except ahead where, +like great streaming eyes of fire, the powerful lamps shot out their +rays making weird color effects in the forest--huge tree-trunks loomed a +dead drab, like mute sentinels, grim and ominous, that barred their way; +now, in the full glare, the foliage took on the softest fairy shade of +green; now, tapering off, heavier in color, it merged into impenetrable +black; and, with the jouncing of the car, the light rays jiggling up and +down gave an unnatural semblance as of moving, animate things before +them, a myriad of them, ever retreating, but ever marshalling their +forces again as though threatening attack, as though to oppose the car's +advance. + +What was there to be afraid of? She tried to laugh at herself--it was +perfectly ridiculous. A little bit of rough road--the forest that she +loved around her--even if it was very dark. They would come out +eventually somewhere on the trunk-road to Barton's Mills--that was all +there was to it. Meanwhile, it was quite an experience, and she had +every confidence in Thornton. She glanced at him now. It was too dark to +get more than an indistinct outline of the clean-cut profile, but there +was something inspiriting in the alert, self-possessed, competent poise +of his body as he crouched well forward over the wheel, his eyes never +lifting from the road ahead. + +They appeared to be going a little faster now, too--undoubtedly the road +was getting better. What was there to be afraid of? It didn't make it +any more pleasant for Thornton, who was probably reproaching himself +rather bitterly for having been tempted by the "short cut," to have her +sit and mope beside him! + +She began to hum an air softly to herself--and then laughingly sang a +bar or two aloud. + +Thornton shot a quick, appreciative glance at her and nodded, joining in +the laugh. + +"By Jove!" he said approvingly. "That sounds good to me. I was afraid +this beastly stretch, bumping and crawling along in the dark, was making +you miserable." + +"Miserable!" exclaimed Helena. "Why, the idea! What is there to be +miserable about? We'll get through after a while--and the road's better +now than it was anyhow, isn't it?" + +"Better?" + +"You're running faster." + +"Oh--er--yes, of course," said Thornton quickly. "I wasn't thinking of +what I said. I--" + +He stopped suddenly, as Helena lifted her hand to her face. + +"Why, it's beginning to rain," she said. + +"Yes; I'm afraid so," he admitted. "I was hoping we would get out of +here before it came." + +"Oh!" said Helena. + +"And the worst of it is," he added hurriedly, "there's no top to the +car, and you've no wraps." + +"Perhaps it won't be anything more than a shower," said Helena +hopefully. + +"Perhaps not," he agreed. "Anyway"--he stopped the car, and took off his +coat--"put this on." + +"No--please," protested Helena. "You'll need it yourself." + +"Not at all," said Thornton cheerily. "And that light dress of yours +would be soaked through in no time." + +He held the coat for her, and she slipped it on--and his hand around her +shoulder and neck, as he turned the collar up and buttoned it gently +about her, seemed to linger as it touched her throat, and yet linger +with the most curious diffidence--a sort of reverence. Helena suddenly +wanted to laugh--and, quick in her intuition, as suddenly wanted to cry. +It wasn't much--only a little touch. It didn't mean love, or passion, or +feeling--only that, unconsciously in his respect, he held her up to gaze +upon herself again in that mocking mirror where all was sham. + +They started on--Thornton silent once more, busy with the car; Helena, +her mind in riot, with no wish for words. + +The rain came steadily in a drizzle. She could feel her dress growing +damp around her knees--and she shivered a little. How strangely +wonderful the rain-beads looked on their background of green leaves +where the lamps played upon them--they seemed to catch and hold and +reflect back the light in a quick, passing procession of clear, +sparkling crystals. But it was raining more heavily now, wasn't it? The +drops were no longer clinging to the leaves, they were spattering dull +and lustrelessly to the ground. And Thornton seemed suddenly to be in +trouble--he was bending down working at something. How jerkily the car +was moving! And now it stopped. + +Thornton swung out of his seat to the ground. + +"It's all right!" he called out reassuringly. "I'll have it fixed in a +minute." + +It was muddy enough now, and the ruts, holding the rain, were regular +wheel-traps. Apart from any other trouble, Thornton did not like the +prospect--and, away from Helena now, his face was serious. He cranked +the engine--no result. He tried it again with equal futility--then, +going to the tool-box, he took out his electric flashlight, and, lifting +the engine hood, began to peer into the machinery. Everything seemed all +right. He tried the crank again--the engine, like some cold, dead thing, +refused to respond. + +"What's the matter?" Helena asked him from the car. + +"I don't know," Thornton answered lightly. "I haven't found out yet--but +don't you worry, it's nothing serious. I'll have it in a jiffy." + +Helena's knowledge of motor cars and engine trouble was not +extensive--she was conversant only with the "fool's mate" of motoring. + +"Maybe there's no gasoline," she suggested helpfully. + +"Nonsense!" returned Thornton, with a laugh. "I told Babson to see that +the tank was full before he brought the car around--he wouldn't forget a +thing like that." + +Thornton, nevertheless, tested the gasoline tank. + +"Well?" inquired Helena, breaking the silence that followed. + +"There is no--gasoline," said Thornton heavily. + +Neither spoke for a moment. There was no sound but the steady drip from +the leaves. Then Helena forced a laugh. + +"Isn't it ridiculous!" she said. "That is what one is always making fun +of others for. I--I don't think it's going to stop raining--do you? And +we're miles and miles from anywhere. What _do_ people do when they're +caught like this?" + +Thornton did not answer at once. Bitterly reproachful with himself, he +stood there coatless in the rain. If it had been a breakdown, an +accident that was unavoidable, a little of the sting might have gone out +of the situation--but _gasoline_! This--from rank, blatant, glaring, +inexcusable idiocy. Not on his part perhaps--but that did not lessen his +responsibility. They were miles, as she had said, from anywhere--four +miles at least in either direction from the main road, and as many more +probably after that from any farmhouse--he remembered that for half an +hour before they had turned into the "short cut" they had seen no sign +of habitation--and what lay in the other direction, ahead, would in all +probability be the same--they were up in the timber regions, in the +heart of them--she couldn't walk miles in the rain with the roads in a +vile condition, and growing viler every minute as the rain sank in and +the mud grew deeper. And then another thought--a thought that came now, +sharp and quick, engulfing the mere discomfort of a miserable night +spent there in the woods--the clatter of busy, gossiping tongues seemed +already to be dinning their abominable noises in his ears. And that he, +that he--yes, it seemed to sweep upon him in a sudden, overmastering +surge, the realization that the delight and joy of her companionship +through the month that was gone was love that leaped now into fierce, +jealous flame, maddened at a breath that would smirch her in the eyes of +others--that _he_ should be the cause of it! "What _do_ people do when +they're caught like this?"--in their innocence there seemed an +unfathomed depth of irony in her words, but as he unconsciously repeated +them they cleared his brain and brought him suddenly to face the +immediate practical problem that confronted them. What was to be done? + +"Shall--shall I get out?" she called to him, a hint of reminder in her +tones that she had spoken to him before and received no answer. + +Thornton moved back to the side of the car. + +"Miss Vail," he said contritely, "I--I don't know what to say to you for +getting you into this. I--" + +"I know," she interrupted quickly, leaning over the side of the car and +placing her hand on his arm. "Don't try to say anything. It's not your +fault--it's not either of our faults. Now tell me what you think the +best thing is to do, and, you'll see, I'll make the best of it--there's +no use being miserable about it." + +"You're a game little woman!" he said earnestly, quite unnecessarily +clasping the hand on his arm and wringing it to endorse his verdict. +"And that makes it a lot easier, you know. Well then, we might as well +face the whole truth at one fell swoop. We're up against it"--he laughed +cheerfully--"hard. It's miles to anywhere--we don't know where +'anywhere' is--and of course you can't walk aimlessly around in the mud +and rain." + +"N--no," she said thoughtfully. "I suppose there's no sense in that." + +"And of course you can't sit out here in the wet all night." + +"That sounds comforting--propitious even," commented Helena. + +"Quite!" agreed Thornton, laughing again. "Well, you wait here a moment, +and I'll see if I can't knock up some sort of shelter--I used to be +pretty good at that sort of thing." + +"And I'll help," announced Helena, preparing to get out. + +"By keeping at least your feet dry," he amended. "No--please. Just stay +where you are, Miss Vail. You'll get as much protection here from the +branches overhead as you will anywhere meanwhile, and you'll be more +comfortable." + +She watched him as he disappeared into the wood, and after that, like a +flitting will-o'-the-wisp, watched his flashlight moving about amongst +the trees. Then presently the cheery blaze of a fire from where he was +at work sprang up, and she heard the crackle of resinous pine +knots--then a great crashing about, the snapping of branches as he broke +them from larger limbs--and a rapid fire of small talk from him as he +worked. + +Helena answered him more or less mechanically--her mind, roving from one +consideration of their plight to another, had caught at a certain +viewpoint and was groping with it. They were stalled more effectively +than any accident to the car could have stalled them--they were there +for the night, there seemed no escape from that. But there was nothing +to be afraid of. She had no fears about passing the night alone with him +here in the woods--why should she? _Why should she!_ She laughed low, +suddenly, bitterly. Why should she--even if he were other than the man +he was, even if he were of the lowest type! Fear--of _that_! A yearning, +so intense as for an instant to leave her weak, swept upon her--a +yearning full of pain, of shame, of remorse, of hopelessness--oh, God, +if only she might have had the _right_ to fear! Then passion seized her +in wild, turbulent unrestraint--hatred for this clean-limbed, +pure-minded man, who flaunted all that his life stood for in her +face--hatred for everybody in this life of hers, for all were good save +her--hatred, miserable, unbridled hatred for herself. + +And then it passed, the mood--and she tried to think more calmly, still +answering him as he called from the woods. She had seen a great deal of +Thornton lately--a great deal. He had been kind and thoughtful and +considerate--nothing more. More! What more could there have been? Love! +There was something of mockery in that, wasn't there? Everything she +thought about lately, every way her mind turned seemed to hold something +of mockery now. Of course, Mrs. Thornton's words expressing the wish +that she and Thornton might come together had been often enough with +her--mockingly again!--but Thornton could have known nothing of +that--so, after all, what did that matter? She had snatched at every +opportunity to motor with Thornton despite Doc's protests, protests that +had grown sullen and angry of late--snatched at the opportunities +eagerly, as she would snatch at a breath of air where all else stifled +her--snatched at them because they took her out of herself temporarily, +away from everything, where everything at times seemed to be driving her +mad. Hate Thornton! No, of course, she didn't hate him--she had thought +that a moment ago because--because her brain was--was--oh, she didn't +know--so tired and weary, and she was cold now and quite wet. She didn't +hate him, she even-- + +"All ready now--house to let furnished"--he was calling out, laughing as +he came thrashing through the undergrowth--"excellent situation, high +altitude, luxuriant pine grove surrounds the property, and--and"--he +had halted beside the car and opened the door--"what else do they say?" + +Helena caught his spirit--or, rather, forced herself to do so. It wasn't +quite fair that one of them should do all the pretending. + +"Flies," she laughed. "They always speak of flies in Maine." + +"None!" said Thornton promptly. "There hasn't been one since the house +was built. Now then, Miss Vail"--he held out his arms. + +"Oh, but really, I can walk." + +"And I can carry you," he said--and, from the step, gathered her into +his arms. + +And then, as she lay there passively at first, she seemed to sense again +that curious diffidence, that gentleness, like the touch upon her throat +of a little while ago, though now he held her in both his arms. How +strong he was--and, oh, how miserably wet--her hand around his shoulder +felt the thin shirt clinging soggily to his arm. Yes; she was glad he +hadn't let her walk--it wasn't far, but she would have had to force her +way continually through bushes that scattered showers from their +dripping leaves, and underfoot she could hear his boots squash through +the mud. And then suddenly it happened--the trees, just a yard or so +from the fire, were thick together, tangled--she bent her head quickly, +instinctively, to avoid a low-hanging branch as he for the same reason +swerved a little--and their cheeks lay close-pressed against each +other's, her hair sweeping his forehead, their lips mingling one +another's breaths. He seemed to stumble--then his arms closed about her +in a quick, fierce pressure, clasping her, straining her to him--relaxed +as suddenly--and then he had set her down inside the shelter he had +built. + +Quick her breath was coming now, and across the fire for a moment she +met his eyes. His face was gray, and his hands at his sides were +clenched. + +"I'll--I'll get the seat out of the car," he said hoarsely. "It will +help to make things more comfortable." And turning abruptly, he started +back for the road again. + +Helena did not move. Mechanically her eyes took in the little hut, +crude, but rainproof at least--branches heaped across two forked limbs +for a roof; the trunk of a big tree for the rear wall; branches thrust +upright into the ground for the sides--the whole a little triangular +shaped affair. The fire blazed in front just within shelter at the +entrance; and beside it was piled quite a little heap of fuel that he +had gathered. + +He came back bringing the leather upholstered seat, shook the rain from +it, and dried it with the help of the fire and his handkerchief--then +set it down inside the hut. His face was turned from her; and as he +spoke, breaking an awkward silence, his voice was conscious, hurried. + +"I'm not going to be gone a minute more than I can help, Miss Vail. It's +mighty rough accommodation for you, but there's one consolation at +least--you'll be perfectly safe." + +Helena seated herself, and held her skirt to the fire. + +"Gone!" she said, a little dully. "Where are you going?" + +"Why, to get help of course," he told her. + +"Help!"--she shook her head. "You don't know where to find any--you only +know for a certainty that there isn't any within miles." + +"I know there's a house back on the main road," he said. "I noticed it +as we came along." + +"That's seven or eight miles from here," she returned. "And it's raining +harder than ever--mud up to your ankles--it would take you hours to +reach it." + +"Possibly two, or two and a half," he said lightly. + +"Yes; and another two at least to get back. I won't hear of you doing +any such thing--you are wet through now. It's far better to wait for +daylight and then probably the storm will be over." + +"But don't you see, Miss Vail"--his voice was suddenly grave, +masterful--"don't you see that there is no other thing to do?" + +"No," said Helena. "I don't see anything of the kind. I won't have you +do anything like that for me--it's not to be thought of." + +Thornton stooped, placed a knot upon the fire, straightened up--and +faced her. + +"It's awfully good of you to think of me," he said in a low tone; "but, +really, it won't be half as bad as you are picturing it in your mind. +And really"--he hesitated, fumbling for his words--"you see--that +is--what other people might say--your--reputation--" + +With a sudden cry, white-faced, Helena was on her feet, staring at him, +her hands clutched at her bosom--a wild, demoniacal, mocking orgy in her +soul. Her reputation! It seemed she wanted to scream out the words--_her +reputation_! + +Thornton's face flushed with a quick-sweeping flood of crimson. + +"I'm a brute--a brute with a blundering tongue!" he cried miserably. +"You had not thought of that--and I made you. I could have found another +excuse for going if I had only had wit enough. I was a brute once before +to-night, and--" He stopped, and for a moment stood there looking at +her, stood in the firelight, his face white again even in the ruddy +glow--and then he was gone. + +Time passed without meaning to Helena. The steady patter of the rain was +on the leaves, the sullen, constant drip of water to the ground, and +now, occasionally, a rush of wind, a heavier downpour. She sat before +the fire, staring into it, her elbows on her knees, her face held +tightly in her hands, the brown hair, wet and wayward now, about her +temples. Once she moved, once her eyes changed their direction--to fix +upon her sleeve in a strange, questioning surprise. + +"I let him go without his coat," she said. + + + + +--XVIII-- + +THE BOOMERANG + + +It was early afternoon, as Madison, emerging from the wagon track, and +walking slowly, started across the lawn toward the Patriarch's cottage. +He was in a mood that he made no attempt to define--except that it +wasn't a very pleasant mood. Before Thornton had returned to Needley it +had been bad enough, after that, with his infernal car, it had +been--hell. + +Madison's fists clenched, and his gray eyes glinted angrily. His hands +had been tied like a baby's--like a damned infant's! Helena was getting +away from him further every day, and he couldn't stop it--without +stopping the game! He couldn't tell Thornton that Helena belonged to +him--had belonged to him! He couldn't even evidence an interest in what +was going on. He had to put on a front, a suave, cordial, dignified +front before Thornton--while he itched to smash the other's face to +pulp! Hell--that's what it was--pure, unadulterated hell! He couldn't +get near Helena alone with a ten-foot pole, morning, noon or night--she +had taken good care of that. And he wanted Helena--he _wanted_ her! It +was an obsession with him now--at times driving him half crazy,--and it +didn't help any that he saw her grow more glorious, more beautiful +every day! Of course she knew she had him--had him where she knew he +couldn't do a thing--where she could laugh at him--go the limit with +Thornton if she liked. But, curse it, it wasn't only Thornton--that was +what he could not understand--she had begun to keep away from him before +ever Thornton had come back. + +Madison was near the porch now, and, raising his eyes, noted a +supplicant going into the shrine-room--a woman, richly dressed but in +widow's weeds, who walked feebly. The game went on by itself, once +started--there were half a hundred more about the lawn! Like a snowball +rolling down hill, as he had put it at the Roost. The Roost! If he only +had Helena back there for about a minute there'd be an end of this! +She'd go a little too far one of these days--a little too far--it was +pretty near far enough now--and then there'd be a showdown, game or no +game, and somebody would get hurt in the smash, and-- + +He lifted his eyes again, as some one came hurrying through the cottage +door. It was the Flopper. And then to his surprise, he found himself +being pushed unceremoniously from the porch and pulled excitedly behind +the trellis. + +"What's the matter with you!" he demanded angrily. "Are you crazy!" + +"T'ank de Lord youse have showed up!" gasped the Flopper. "Say, honest, +I can't do nothin' wid him--he's got me near bughouse." + +"Who?"--Madison scowled irritably. + +"De Patriarch, of course. He's noivous, an' gettin' worse all de time. +He won't eat an' he won't keep still. He wants Helena, an' he keeps +writin' her name on de slate--he's got me going fer fair." + +"Well, I'm not Helena!" growled Madison. "Why doesn't she go to him?" + +"Now wouldn't dat sting youse!" ejaculated the Flopper. "How's she goin' +to him when she ain't here?" + +"Not here?" repeated Madison sharply. "Where is she?" + +The Flopper looked down his nose. + +"I dunno," said he. + +Madison stared at him for a moment--then he reached out and caught the +Flopper's arm in a sudden and far from gentle grip. + +"Out with it!" he snapped. + +"I dunno where she is," said the Flopper, with some reluctance. "She +ain't back yet, dat's all." + +"Back from where?"--Madison's grip tightened. + +The Flopper blinked. + +"Aw, wot's de use!" he blurted out, as though his mind, suddenly made +up, brought him unbounded relief. "Youse'll find it out anyhow. Say, she +went off wid Thornton in de buzz-wagon yesterday, an' I put de Patriarch +to bed last night 'cause she wasn't back, an' dat's wot's de matter wid +him, she ain't showed up since an' he's near off his chump, an'--fer +God's sake let go my arm, Doc, youse're breakin' it!" + +A sort of cold frenzy seemed to seize Madison. He was perfectly calm, he +felt himself perfectly calm and composed. Off all night with +Thornton--eh? Funny, wasn't it? She'd gone pretty far at last--gone the +limit. + +"Why didn't you send me word this morning?"--was that his own voice +speaking? Well, he wouldn't have recognized it--but he was perfectly +calm nevertheless. + +"Fer God's sake let go my arm," whimpered the Flopper. "I--I ain't no +squealer, dat's why." + +Madison's arm fell away--to his side. He felt a whiteness creeping to +his face and lips, felt his lips twitch, felt the fingers of his hands +curl in and the nails begin to press into the palms. + +"Mabbe," suggested the Flopper timidly, "mabbe dere was an accident." + +Madison made no answer. + +The Flopper shifted from foot to foot and licked his lips, stealing +frightened glances at Madison's face. + +"Wot--wot'll I do wid de Patriarch?" he stammered out miserably. + +And then Madison smiled at him--not happily, but eloquently. + +"Swipe me!" mumbled the Flopper, as he backed out from the trellis. "Dis +love game's fierce--an' mabbe _I_ don't know! 'Sposin' she'd been +Mamie an' me the Doc--'sposin' it had!" He gulped hastily. "Swipe me!" +said the Flopper with emotion. + +Madison, motionless, watched the Flopper disappear. He wasn't quite so +calm now, not so cool and collected and composed. He must go somewhere +and think this out--somewhere where it would be quiet and he wouldn't be +disturbed. + +A step sounded on the path--Madison looked through the trellis. A man, +with yellow, unhealthy skin and sunken cheeks, his head bowed, was +passing in through the porch. It caught Madison with fierce, exquisite +irony. Why not go there himself if he wanted quiet--the shrine-room--the +place of meditation! Well, he wanted to _meditate_! He laughed +jarringly. The shrine-room--for him! Great! Immense! Magnificent! Why +not? That's what he had created it for, wasn't it--to meditate in! + +He stepped inside. The woman, whom he had seen enter a short while +before, was sitting in a sort of rigid, strained attitude in the far +corner; the man, who had just preceded him, had taken the chair by the +fireplace--they were the only occupants of the room. There was no sound +save his own footsteps--neither of the others looked at him. There was +quiet, a profound stillness--and the softened light from the shuttered +window fell mellow all about, fell like a benediction upon the +simplicity of the few plain articles that the room contained--the round +rag mats upon the white-scrubbed floor; the hickory chairs, severe, +uncushioned; the table, with its little japanned box and book. + +Madison's eyes fixed upon the japanned box, as he leaned now, arms +folded, against the wall--a jewel, even in the subdued light, glowed +crimson-warm where it nested on a crumpled bed of bank-notes--a ruby +ring--the last contribution--it must have been the woman who had placed +it there. Madison glanced at her involuntarily--but his thoughts were +far away again in a moment. + +Anger and a blind rage of jealousy were gripping him now. _Accident!_ +The thought only fanned his fury. Accident! Yes; it was likely--as an +excuse! There would have been an accident all right--leave that to them! +Thornton perhaps wasn't the stamp of man to seek an adventure of that +kind deliberately--perhaps he wasn't--and perhaps he was--you never +could tell--but what difference did that make! _Helena was that kind of +a woman_--though he'd always thought her true to him since he'd known +her--and Thornton, whatever kind of a man he was, wouldn't run away from +her arms, would he? + +The red glow from the ruby ring had vanished--the man had risen from his +seat and was placing something in the box on top of the ring--Madison's +mind subconsciously absorbed the fact that it was a little sheaf of +yellow-backed bills. And now the man bent to the table and was writing +in the book. + +Yellow-backs and rubies! Rubies and yellowbacks! Madison's lips thinned +and curled downward at the corners. Oh, it was coming all right, money, +jewels, pelf, rolling in merrily every day, there wasn't any stopping +it, but he was paying for it, and paying for it at a price he didn't +like--Helena. Helena! She wanted Thornton, did she--with his money! +Wanted to dangle a millionaire on her string--eh? She'd throw him +over--would she! And she thought she had him where he couldn't lift a +finger to stop it--just sit back and grin like a poor, sick fool! + +The red crept up the knotted cords of Madison's neck, suffused the set +jaws, and, as though suddenly liberated to run its course where it +would, swept in a tide over cheeks and temples. + +He couldn't do a thing--_couldn't he!_ Well, he'd see the game in +Gehenna before Thornton or any other man got her away from him. She +belonged to him--to _him!_ And he'd have her, hold her, own her--she was +his--_his!_ And he'd settle with Thornton too, by Heaven! + +A laugh, low, unpleasant, purled to his lips--and he checked it with a +sort of strange mechanical realization that he must not laugh aloud. His +eyes swept the room--the man had returned to his seat, the woman had not +moved, both were silent, motionless--that ghastly, hallowed, +sanctimonious hush--that subdued, damnable light--meditation! + +"For God's sake let me get out of here," he muttered, "or I'll go mad." + +He turned--and stopped. Came a cry spontaneously from the man and the +woman--they were on their feet--no, on their knees. The doorway at the +further end of the room was framing a majestic figure, tall and +stately--and a sun-gleam struggling suddenly through the lattice seemed +to leap in a golden ray to caress in homage the snow-white hair, the +silver beard that fell upon the breast, the saintly face of the +Patriarch. + +Then into the room advanced the Patriarch, and his hands were +outstretched before him, and he moved them a little to and fro--and the +gesture, the poise, the mien, as, touching nothing he seemed to feel his +way through space itself, was as one invoking a blessing of peace +ineffable. + +Spellbound, Madison watched. Upon the face was a yearning that saddened +it, and, saddening, glorified it; the head was slightly turned as though +to listen--while slowly, with measured, certain tread, as though indeed +he had no need for eyes, the Patriarch circled the table and passed on +down the room. The man and the woman reached out and touched him +reverently, and drew back reverently to let him pass, and, rising from +their knees, followed him through the door and out onto the porch. + +The room was empty. Madison stared at the doorway. Upon him fell a +sudden awe--it was as though a vision, an ethereal presence, some +strange embodiment of power, had been and gone--and yet still remained. + +And now from without there came a sound like a distant murmur. It rose +and swelled, and began to roll in its volume, and then, like the clarion +sound of trumpets, voices burst into glad acclaim. + +"The Patriarch! The Patriarch! The Patriarch!" + +From the little hallway came the Flopper, running--and he stopped and +gaped at Madison. + +"I left him in his room fer a minute," he gasped. "He's--he's lookin' +fer Helena." + +And then Madison shook himself together--and smiled ironically. And at +the smile the Flopper hurried on. + +Madison stepped out onto the porch. Helena! Helena! Within him seemed to +burn a rage of hell; but it seemed, too, most strangely that for the +moment this rage was held in abeyance, that something temporarily +supplanted it--this scene before him. + +Onward across the lawn moved the Patriarch, and the Flopper had joined +him now; but the Patriarch, unheeding, turning neither to the right nor +to the left, his arms still extended before him, kept on. And the people +cried aloud: + +"He is coming--he is coming! The Patriarch! The Patriarch!" + +Madison moved on--out upon the lawn himself. + +From everywhere, from every scattered spot where they had been, men and +women ran and limped and dragged themselves along, all converging on +one point--the Patriarch. + +Madison, in the midst of them now, hurried--for it was plainly evident +that the Flopper's control over the Patriarch was gone. He reached the +Patriarch and touched the other's arm--and at the touch the Patriarch +halted instantly, his hand went out and lay upon Madison's sleeve in +recognition, and he turned his face, and it was smiling and there was +relief upon it--and confidence and trust, as, suffering himself to be +guided, they started back toward the cottage. + +And then upon Madison came again that sense of awe, but now intensified. +From every hand tear-stained faces greeted him, white faces, faces full +of sorrow and suffering through which struggled hope--hope--hope. They +flung themselves before the Patriarch--yet never blocked the way. They +cried, they wept, they prayed--and some were silent. It seemed that +souls, naked, stripped, bare, held themselves up to his gaze. Men, +prostrate on stretchers, tried to rise and stagger nearer--and fell. +Friends, where there were friends to help, tugged and dragged +desperately at cots--and from the cots in piteous, agonized appeal the +helpless cried out to the Patriarch to come to them. All of human agony +and fear and hope and despair and terror seemed loosed in a mad and +swirling vortex. And ever the cries arose, and ever around them, giving +way, closing in again, pressed the soul-rent throng. + +And presently to Madison it seemed as though he had awakened from some +terrifying dream, as, in the Patriarch's room again, he swept away a +bead of sweat from his forehead, and stood and looked at the Patriarch +and the Flopper. + +The Flopper licked his lips, and pulled the Patriarch's chair +forward--but his hands trembled violently. + +"It's been gettin' me, Doc," he whispered, "an' I can't help it. It's +been gettin' into me all de time. Say, I wisht it was over. Honest to +God I do! Dis--dis makes me queer. Say, de Patriarch's got me, +Doc--an'--an'--say--dere's been somethin' goin' on inside me dat's got +me hard." + +Madison did not answer--but he started suddenly--and as suddenly +stepped to the window and looked out. Over the cries, the wailings, the +confused medley of voices, growing lower now, subsiding, there had come +the throb of a motor car. + +Madison's eyes narrowed--_that_ was supreme again. A car was coming to a +stop before the porch--Thornton was helping Helena to alight. + +Madison turned and caught the Flopper's arm in a fierce, imperative +grasp. + +"You keep your mouth shut--do you hear?" he flung out, clipping off his +words. "You haven't seen me to-day--understand!" And, dropping the +Flopper's arm, he stepped quickly across the little hall to Helena's +door, opened it, went in--and closed the door behind him. + +And the Flopper, staring, licked his lips again. + +"Swipe me!" he croaked hoarsely. "Pipe de eyes on de Doc! Dere'll be +somethin' doin' now!" + + + + +--XIX-- + +THE SANCTUARY OF DARKNESS + + +There was a grim, merciless smile on Madison's lips; and a whiteness in +his face windowed the passion that seethed within him. He stood +motionless, listening, in Helena's room. He heard the automobile going +away again; then he heard Helena's light step in the hallway +without--and the smile died as his lips thinned. + +But she did not come in--instead, he heard her go into the Patriarch's +room, heard her talking to the Patriarch, and bid the Flopper go to the +kitchen and make her some tea. Then the Flopper's step sounded, passing +down to the rear, of the cottage. + +The minutes passed--then that light footfall again. The door of the room +swung suddenly wide--and closed--there was a cry--and Helena, wide-eyed, +the red of her cheeks fading away, leaned heavily back against the door. + +Neither spoke. Madison, in the center of the room, did not move. The +smile came back to his lips. + +Helena's great brown eyes met the gray ones, read the ugly glint, +dropped, raised again--and held the gray ones steadily. + +Madison gave a short laugh--that was like a curse. His hands at his +sides knotted into lumps. + +Then Madison spoke. + +"Why don't you say, 'you!--_you_!'--and scream it out and clutch at your +bosom the way they do in story books!" he flung out raucously. "Why +don't you do your little stunt--go on, you're on for the turn--you can +put anything over me, I'm only a complacent, blind-eyed fool! Anything +goes! Why don't you start your act?" + +"You don't know what you are saying," she said in a low voice. "If +there's anything you want to talk about, we'd better wait until you're +cooler." + +"Oh, hell!" he roared, his passion full to the surface now. "Cut out the +bunk--cut it out! _Anything_! No, it isn't much of anything--for +you--out all night with Thornton. Do you think I'm going to stand for +it! Do you think I'm going to sit and suck my thumb and _share_ you, +and--" + +"You lie!" She was away from the door now, close before him, her breath +coming fast, white to the lips, and in a frenzy her little fists +pummelled upon him. "It's a lie--a lie--a lie! It's a lie--and you know +it!" + +He pushed her roughly from him. + +"It is, eh?"--his words came in a sort of wild laugh. "And I know it--do +I? Why should I know it? What do you think you are? Say, you'd think you +were trying to kid yourself into believing you're the real thing--the +real, sweet, shy, modest Miss Vail. Cut it out! You're name's +Smith--maybe! And it's my money that's keeping you, and you belong to +me--do you understand?" + +She stood swaying a little, her hands still tightly clenched, breathing +through half parted lips in short, quick, jerky inhalations like dry +sobs. + +"It's true," she faltered suddenly--and suddenly buried her face in her +hands. And then she looked up again, and the brown eyes in their depths +held an anger and a shame. "It's true--I was--was--what you say. But +now"--her voice hurried on, an eagerness, a strange earnestness in +it--"you must believe me--you must. I'll make you--I must make you." + +"Oh, don't hurt yourself trying to do it!" jeered Madison. "We're +talking plain now. I'm not taking into account how you feel about it +--don't you fool yourself for a minute. The sanctity of my home hasn't +been ruined--because it couldn't be! Get that? Thornton don't get +you--not for _keeps_! But you and he don't make a monkey of me again. Do +you understand--say, do you get that? You're _mine_--whether you like +it or not--whether you'd rather have Thornton or not. But I'll fix you +both for this--I'm no angel with a cherub's smile! I'll take it out of +Thornton till the laugh he's got now fades to a fare-thee-well; and I'll +put you where there aren't any strings tying me up the way there are +here. Do you understand!" His voice rose suddenly, and for a moment he +seemed to lose all control of himself as he reached for her and caught +her shoulder. "I love you," he flashed out between his teeth. "I love +you--that's what's the matter with me! And you know that--you know +you've got me there--and you'd play the fool with me, would you!" He +dropped his hands--and laughed a short, savage bark--and stepped back +and stared at her. + +"Will you listen?"--she was twisting her hands, her head was drooped, +the long lashes veiled her eyes, her lips were quivering. "Will you +listen?" she said again, fighting to steady her voice. "It was an +accident." + +"I saw the machine when you drove up--it was a wreck!" snapped Madison +sarcastically. + +"We ran out of gasoline," she said quietly. + +And then Madison laughed--fiercely--in his derision. + +"Oh, keep on!" he rasped. "I told you I was only a blind fool that you +could put anything over on! That accounts for it, of course--a breakdown +isn't so easy to get away with. Gasoline!" + +"We were miles from anywhere," she went on. "We had taken what we +thought was a short cut. Mr. Thornton built a shelter for me in the +woods, and went to--to--" + +He caught up her hesitation like a flash. + +"Fake the lines, Helena, if you haven't had enough rehearsals," he +suggested ironically. "Anything goes--with me." + +And now a tinge of color came to Helena's cheeks, and the brown eyes +raised, and flashed, and dropped. + +"He went to try and find help," she said. "He was out all night in the +storm. I do not know how far he must have walked. I know the nearest +house was five or six miles away--and there was no horse there--the man +had driven to some town that morning. It was almost daylight before Mr. +Thornton at last came back with a team. We were forty miles from +here--we sent the team to the nearest town for gasoline and then motored +back." She stopped--and then, with a catch in her voice: "He--he was +very good to me." + +"Good to me"--the words seemed to stab at Madison, seemed to ring in his +ears and goad him with a fiercer jealousy--and her story of the night, +what she had been saying, save those words, was as nothing, meant +nothing, was swept from his consciousness--and only she, standing there +before him, glorious, maddening in her beauty, remained. Soul, mind and +body leaped into fiery passion--she was his, and his she always would +be--those eyes, those lips, the white throat, those perfect arms to +cling about his neck--and all of heaven and hell and earth were naught +beside her. + +"I love you!"--his face was white, his words fierce-breathed, almost +incoherent--and he leaned toward her with a sudden, uncontrollable +movement, his arms sweeping out to clasp her. "I love you, Helena--I +love you. Do you understand--it's _you_! You--I love you!" + +"You _love_ me!"--she retreated from him, but her head was raised now, +and her voice rang with a bitterness cold as the touch of death. "Love! +What do you know of _love_! We talk plain, you say. Love--love for me! +Passion, vice, lust, sin--and, oh, my God, degradation and misery and +shame--love! Love! That is _your_ love!" + +He stood for a moment and stared at her again--and her face was as +pallid ivory. And something seemed to daze him, and he brushed his hand +across his eyes--the logic was faulty, torn and pitiful, and he groped +after the flaw. + +"It's--it's your love as well as mine," he said in a stumbling way--then +his brain flashed quick into action. "My love--what other love have +_you_ known but that?" he cried. "It's _our_ love--the love we have +known together--and we're going back to it--see? I've had enough of +this. You pack your trunks--and pack them quick! We're going to beat it +out of here! We're going back to our--love. We're going back where I +don't have to sit around like a puling fool and watch Thornton chuck you +under the chin--we're going where he'll want a tombstone if he ever +shows his face there. You thought the game would hold me to the last +jackpot--did you? Well, I've got enough--and there's no game big enough +to make me stand for this. That looks like love--doesn't it?" He burst +again into a sudden, mirthless laugh--and once again swept his +hand across his eyes. "We're going to beat it out of here +now--to-night--to-morrow morning." + +But now she had drawn further away from him--and there was a frightened +look in her eyes, and her lips quivered pitifully. + +"No--I can't--I can't," she cried out. "No, no--I can't--I can't go back +to _that_." + +"That! That--is love," he said wildly. "The only love you know. What +more do you want? There's loot enough now, and--ha, ha!--that little +contribution of Thornton's, to give you all the money you want. Love, +Helena--you and I--the old love--you and I together again, Helena. I +tell you I love you--do you hear? I love you--and I'll have you--I love +you! What do you know, what do you care about any other kind of love!" + +She looked at him, misery and fear still in her eyes, and her slight +figure seemed to droop, and her hands hung heavy, listless, at her +sides. + +"I care"--the words came in a strange mechanical way from her lips. "Oh, +I care. I can't--I won't go back to that. And I know--I know now. I have +learned what love is." + +Quick over Madison's face surged the red in an unstemmed tide--volcanic +within him his love that he knew now possessed his very soul, jealousy +that, blinding, robbed him of his senses, roused him to frenzy. + +"Oh, you've learned what love is, have you--_with him_!" he cried--and +sprang for her and snatched her into his arms. "And you won't come, eh? +Well, I've learned what love is too in the last month--and if I can't +get it one way, I'll get it another"--he was raining mad kisses upon her +face, her hair, her eyes--"I love you, I tell you--I love you!" + +With a cry she tried to struggle from him--and then fought and struck at +him, beating upon his face with her fists. Fiercer, closer he held +her--around the little room, staggering this way and that, they circled. +He kissed her, laughing hoarsely like a madman, laughing at the blows, +beside himself, not knowing what he did--mad--mad--mad. He kissed her, +kissed the white throat where the dress was torn now at the neck; +imprisoned a little fist that struck at him and kissed the quivering +knuckles; kissed the wealth of glorious, burnished-copper hair that, +unloosened, fell about her, kissed it and buried his face in its rare +fragrance. And then--and then his arms were empty--and he was staring at +the calm, majestic figure of the Patriarch--and Helena was crouched upon +the floor, and, sobbing, was clinging with arms entwined around the old +man's knees. + +And so for a little while Madison stood and stared--what had brought the +Patriarch there--the Patriarch who could neither see nor hear nor +speak--what had brought him from his own room across the hall! And +Madison stared, and his hands crept to his temples and pressed upon +them--weak he seemed as from some paroxysm of madness that had passed +over him. The sunlight streaming through the window sheened the +luxuriant mass of hair that falling over shoulders and to the waist +seemed alone to cloak the little figure in its crouched position--the +little figure that shook so convulsively with sobs--the little figure +that clung so desperately at the feet of this god-like, regal man, whose +beard was silver, whose hair was hoary white, upon whose face, marring +none its strength or self-possession, was a troubled, anxious, +questioning look. + +Strange! Strange! Madison's hands fell to his sides. The Patriarch's +eyes were turned full upon him, wavering not so much as by the fraction +of an inch--full upon him. And then, as into some holy sanctuary, +fending her from harm and danger, the Patriarch turned a little to +interpose himself before Madison, and, raising Helena, held her in his +arms, her head against his bosom--and one hand lay upon her head and +stroked it tenderly. But upon Madison was still turned those sightless +eyes, that noble face, serene, commanding even in its perturbation, even +in its alert and searching look. + +Madison stirred now--stirred uneasily--while the silence held. There was +a solemnity in the silence that seemed to creep upon and pervade the +room--a sense of a vast something that was the antithesis of turmoil, +passion, strife, that seemed to radiate from the saintly figure whose +lips were mute, whose ears heard no sound, whose eyes saw no sight. And +upon Madison it fell potent, masterful, and passion fled, and in its +place came a strange, groping response within him, a revulsion, a +penitence--and he bowed his head. + +And then Helena spoke--but her head was turned away from him, hidden on +the Patriarch's breast. + +"Once," she said, and her words were like broken whispers, for she was +sobbing still, "once, long, long ago, when I was a little girl, I read +the story of Mary Magdalen. I had almost forgotten it, it was so long +ago, but it has come back to me, and--and it is a glad story--at the +end." + +She stopped--and Madison raised his head, and his face was strained as +with some sudden wonder as he looked at her. + +"It is a glad story," she said presently. "It--it is my story." + +"You mean"--Madison's voice was hoarse--"you mean that you've +turned--_straight_!" + +"They love me here," she said. "They trust me and they think me good--as +they are. All think me that--the little children and this dear man +here--and for a little while, since I have been here, I have lived like +that. They made me believe that it was true--_true_. And there was shame +and agony--and hope. It seemed they could not all be wrong, and I have +asked and prayed that I might make it true always--and--and forgiveness +for what I was." + +"You mean," he said again hoarsely, and he stepped toward her now, "you +mean that you are--_straight_!" + +She did not answer--only now she turned her face toward him and lifted +up her head. + +And for a long minute Madison gazed into the tear-splashed eyes, deep, +brave in chastened wistfulness, gazed--and like a man stunned walked +from the room, the cottage, and out across the lawn. + + + + +--XX-- + +TO THE VICTOR ARE THE SPOILS + + +Many were still about the lawn as he left the cottage--they were all +about him, those sick, half frantic creatures--and still they made +noises; still some of them cried and sobbed; still in their waning +paroxysms they moved hither and thither. They appealed to some numbed, +dormant sense in Madison, in a subconscious way, as things to be +avoided. And so, almost mechanically, he took the little path that, +striking off at right angles to the wagon track where it joined the +Patriarch's lawn, came out again upon the main road at the further end +of the village. + +And, as he walked, like tidal waves on-rushing, emotions, utterly at +variance one with another, hurled themselves upon him, and he was swept +from his mental balance, tossed here and there, rolled gasping, +strangling in the chaos and turmoil of the waters, as it were, and, +rising, was hurled back again. + +White as death itself was Madison's face; and at times his fingers with +a twitching movement curled into clenched fists, at times his open palms +sought his temples in a queer wriggling way and pressed upon them. +Doubt, anger, fear, a rage unhallowed--in cycles--buffeted him until +his brain reeled, and he was as a man distraught. + +It began at the beginning, that cycle, and dragged him along--and left +him like one swooning, tottering, upon the edge of a precipice. And then +it began over again. + +And it began always with a picture of the Roost that night--the vicious, +unkempt, ragged figure of the Flopper--the sickly, thin, greedy face of +Pale Face Harry, the drug fiend, winching a little as he plunged the +needle into his flesh--the easy, unprincipled gaiety and eagerness of +Helena for the new path of crime--crime--crime--the Roost exuded +crime--filth--immorality--typified them, framed them well as they had +sat there, the four of them, while that bruised-nosed bouncer had +brought them drink on his rattling tin tray. And then his own +self-satisfied, smug, complacent egotism at his own cleverness, his +unbounded confidence in his own ability to pull off the game, and-- + +Well, he had pulled it off--he'd won it--won it--won it--everybody had +fallen for it--the boobs had been plentiful--the harvest rich. What was +the matter with him! He'd won--was winning every time the clock ticked. +Somebody back there was probably throwing good hard coin at him this +minute--the damned fool! Madison threw back his head to laugh in +derision, for there was mocking, contemptuous laughter in his soul--but +the laugh died still-born upon his lips. + +It was fear now--fear--staggering, appalling him. He was facing +something--_something_--his brain did not seem to define it--something +that was cold and stern and immutable, that was omnipotent, that +embodied awe--a condemnation unalterable, unchangeable, before which he +shrank back with his soul afraid. Before him seemed to unfold itself the +wagon track, the road to the Patriarch's cottage; and he was there +again, and whispering lips were around him, and men and women and +children were there, and in front of them, leading them, slithered that +twisted, misshapen, formless thing--and now they were upon the lawn, and +about him everywhere, everywhere, everywhere was a sea of white faces +out of which the eyes burned like living coals. What power was this +that, loosed, had stricken them to palsied, moaning things! + +Madison shivered a little--and a sweat bead oozed out and glistened upon +his forehead. Hark--what was that! Clarionlike, clear as the chimes of a +silver bell, rang now that childish voice--rang out, and rang out +again--and the crutch was gone--and the lame boy ran, ran--_ran_! And +who was that, that stood before him now--that golden-haired woman beside +an empty wheel-chair, whose face was radiant, who cried aloud that she +was _cured_! And who were these others of later days, this motley crowd +of old and young, that passed before him in procession, that cried out +the same words that golden-haired woman by the wheel-chair had +cried--and cried out: "Faith! Faith! Faith!" + +Madison swept the sweat bead from his forehead with a trembling hand. It +was a lie--a lie--a lie! He had taught them to say that--but it was all +bunk--and all were fools! He could laugh at them, jeer at them, mock at +them, deride them--they were his playthings--and faith was his +plaything--and he could laugh at them all! + +And again he raised his head to laugh; and again the laugh was choked in +his throat, still-born--_Helena was straight_! To his temples went his +twitching hands. Anger raged upon him--and died in fear. Anger, for the +instant maddening him, that he should lose her; rage in ungovernable +fury that the game, his plans, the hoard accumulated, was bursting like +a bubble before his eyes--died in fear. No, no; he had not meant to +laugh or mock--no, no; not that, not that! What was this loosed titanic +power that had done these things--that had brought this change in +Helena; that had brought a change in the Flopper, transforming the +miserable, pitiful, whining thief into a man reaching out for decent +things; that had wrought at least a physical metamorphosis in Pale Face +Harry--that had transfigured those three who, in their ugly, abandoned +natures then, had hung like vultures on his words in the Roost that +night! What was this power that he was trifling with, that brought him +now this cold, dead fear before which he quailed! What was this +_something_ that in his temerity he had dared invoke--that rose now +engulfing him, a puny maggot--that snatched him up and flung him +headlong, shackled, before this nebulous, terrifying tribunal, where out +of nothingness, out of a void, the calm, majestic features of the +Patriarch took form and changed, and changed, and kept changing, and +grew implacable, set with the stamp of doom. What was it--in God's name, +what was it brought these sweat beads bursting to his forehead! Was he +going mad--was he mad already! + +And then the cycle again--doubt, anger, fear--until his brain, +exhausted, seemed to refuse its functions; and it was as though, heavy, +oppressing, a dense fog shut down upon his mind and enveloped it; and +now he walked as a man in great haste, hurrying, and now his pace was +slow, uncertain. + +And so he went on, following the little path that bordered the woods on +one hand and the fields on the other; went on until he neared the +village--and then he stopped suddenly, and turned about. Some one had +called his name. + +From the field, a man climbed over the fence and came toward him. The +man's face was tanned and rugged, his form erect, and the sleeves rolled +back above the elbows displayed browned and muscular forearms. Madison +stared at the man apathetically. This was the farm of course where Pale +Face Harry boarded, and this was Pale Face Harry--but-- + +"Doc," said Pale Face Harry, and he shuffled his feet and looked down, +"Doc, I got something I've been wanting to say to you for a week." + +Madison still gazed at him apathetically--Pale Face Harry for the moment +was as some unwarrantable apparition suddenly appearing before him. + +Pale Face Harry raised his eyes, lowered them, kicked at a clod of earth +with the toe of his boot--and raised his eyes again. + +"Say," he blurted out, "I'm through, Doc. I'm--I'm going to quit." + +Into Madison's stumbling brain leaped and took form but one idea--and he +jumped forward, reaching savagely for Pale Face Harry's throat. + +"You'd throw me, would you! You'd throw the game--would you!" he +snarled, as his fingers locked. + +Pale Face Harry, twisting, wriggled free--and retreated a step. + +"No; I ain't!" he gasped--and then his sentences came tumbling out upon +each other jerkily, as though he were trying to compress what he had to +say into as few words as possible and as quickly as he could, while he +watched Madison warily. "I ain't throwing nothing. I just want to quit +myself. I keeps my mouth shut--see? I don't want none of the share +what's coming. Say, I've got more'n a hundred times that out of it. Look +at me, Doc! Say, I'm like a horse. That's the Patriarch and living +honest. Say, in all me life I never knew what it was before till we +comes here. If I took the dough what's coming I'd go back to the old +hell, and I'd go down and out again. Say, it ain't worth it, there's +nothing in it. I ain't throwing you, Doc--I just blows out of here with +me trap closed. Say, look at me, Doc--don't you get what I mean?" + +And then Madison burst into a peal of wild, strange laughter; and, as +though no man stood before him, started on along the path--and Pale Face +Harry sidled out of his way and stared after him. + +"For--for God's sake, Doc," he called out, stammering, "what's the +matter?" + +But Madison made no answer. He heard Pale Face Harry call out behind +him; in a subconscious, mazed way, he sensed the other following him, +gropingly, hesitantly, for a few yards, then hold back--and finally +stop. + +The path swerved. Madison went on--blindly, mechanically, as though, +once set in motion, he must go on. Some ghastly, unnatural thing was +clogging his brain; not only in a mental way, but clogging it until +there was physical hurt and pain, an awful tightness--something--if he +could only reach it with his fingers and claw it away! There was black +madness here, and a pain insufferable--a damnable impotence, robbing him +of even the power, the faculty to think or reason, or to make himself +understand in any logical degree the meaning or the cause of this thing +that sent his brain swirling sick. + +He halted. His lips were working; the muscles of his face quivered. And +suddenly, snatching his hat from his head, he flung himself on the +ground and plunged face and head, feverishly, tigerishly, into the +little brook that ran beside the path. Again and again he buried his +face in the cold, clear, refreshing water--and then, still on hands and +knees, he raised his head to listen. Softly, full of a great peace, full +of a strange sweetness that knew no discord, no strife, the notes of the +chapel bell floated across the fields. Evening had come; the day's work +was done--it was benediction time. It was the call of the faithful--the +Angelus of those who believed. + +It came, the revulsion, to Madison in a choked sob--and he stood up. The +day's work was done--here. Here they would go in quiet thankfulness each +from the farm to his little cottage, each to his simple, wholesome meal, +each to the twilight hours of gentle communion as they talked to one +another from their doorways, each to his bed and his rest, tranquil in +the love of God and of man. + +Madison flung back the dripping hair from his forehead. Strange, the +contrast that, unbidden, came insistently to him now: The liquid notes +of the bell wafted sweetly on the evening breeze; the howling, jangling +turmoil of the city slums, of his familiar haunts where, in mad chaos, +reigned the hawkers' cries, the thunder of the elevated trains, the +noisome traffic of the street, the raucous clang of trolley bells--the +sweet perfume of the, fields, the smell of trees, of earth, of all of +God's pure things untouched, unsoiled; the stench of Chatham Square, +the reek of whiskey spilled with the breath of obscene, filthy lips--the +little village that he could see beyond him, the tiny curls of blue +smoke rising like the incense from an altar over the roofs of houses +whose doors had no locks, whose windows were not barred, where plain, +homely folk, unsullied, lived at peace with God and the world; the +closed areaways of the Bowery, the creaking stairs, the dim hallways +leading to dens of vileness and iniquity where, safe by bolts from +interruption, crime bred its offsprings and vice was hatched. What did +it mean! + +And so he stood there for a little space; then presently he started +forward again; and presently he reached the village street, walked down +its length, greeted from every doorway with hearty, unaffected +sincerity, and after a little while he came to the hotel, and to his +room--and there he locked the door. + +Helena was straight--the words were repeating themselves over and over +in his brain. He began to pace up and down the room. The words seemed to +take form and shape in fiery red letters, being scrawled by invisible +hands upon the walls--_Helena was straight_. Straight with Thornton, +straight with any man--straight with her Maker. He knew that now--he had +read it as a soul-truth in those brave, deep, tear-dimmed eyes. And he +had _lost_ her! It seemed as though he had become suddenly conscious +that he was enduring some agony that was never to know an end, that +from now on must be with him always. He had lost her--lost Helena. + +From his pocket he drew out his keys and opened his trunks, and took out +the trays and spread them about. There were very many trays, they nested +one upon the other--and they were exceedingly ingenious +trays--false-bottomed every one. And now he opened these false-bottoms, +every one of them, and stood and looked at them. The surest, safest, +biggest game he had ever played, the game that had known no single +hitch, the game that had brought no whispering breath of suspicion flung +its tribute in his face. Money that he had never tried to count, notes +of all denominations, large and small, glutted the receptacles--jewels +in necklaces, in rings, in pendants, in brooches, in bracelets, +diamonds, rubies, emeralds, winked at him and scintillated and glowed +and were afire. + +And he stood and looked upon them. What was it the Flopper had said when +they had brought the Patriarch back--he did not remember. What was it +that Pale Face Harry had said a little while ago--he did not remember. +These were jewels here and money--wealth--and he had won the greatest +game that was ever played--only he had lost her--lost Helena. And he +stood and looked upon them--and slowly there crept to his face a +white-lipped smile. + +"I'm beat!" he whispered hoarsely. "Beat--by the game--I won." + + + + +--XXI-- + +FACE VALUE + + +It was evening of the same day--and there came a knock at the outer door +of the cottage porch. + +The Flopper answered it, and came back to the Patriarch's room; where +the Patriarch sat in his armchair; where the lamp, turned low, throwing +the little room into half shadow, burned upon the table; where Helena, +far away from her immediate surroundings, quite silent and still, her +own chair close beside the other's, nestled with her head on the +Patriarch's shoulder. + +Helena looked up as the Flopper returned. + +Upon the Flopper's face was a curious expression--not one that in the +days gone by had been habitual--it seemed to mingle a diffidence, a +kindly solicitude and a sort of anxious responsibility. + +"It's Thornton askin' fer youse," announced the Flopper. + +Helena rose from her chair, and started for the door--but the Flopper +blocked the way. Helena halted and looked at him in astonishment. + +The Flopper licked his lips. + +"Say, Helena," he said earnestly, "if I was youse I wouldn't go--say, +I'll tell him youse have got de pip an' gone ter bed." + +"Not go?" echoed Helena. "What do you mean?" + +The Flopper scratched at his chin uneasily. + +"Oh, you know!" he said. "De Doc let youse down easy ter-day. Say, if +youse had piped his lamps when you drives up in de buzz-wagon dis +afternoon youse wouldn't be lookin' fer any more trouble. Say, I'm +tellin' youse straight, Helena. When I was out dere in de kitchen an' +youse was in yer room wid him me heart was in me mouth all de time. +Youse can take it from me, Helena, he let youse down easy." + +Helena's brown eyes, a little wistfully, a little softly, held upon the +Flopper. + +"Yes?" she said quietly. + +"Youse had better cut it out ter-night, Helena," the Flopper went on. +"Y'oughter know de Doc by dis time--de guy dat starts anything wid de +Doc gets his--dat's all! Remember de night he threw Cleggy down de +stairs in de Roost?--an' he was only havin' fun! Say, you go out wid +Thornton again ter-night an' de Doc finds it out--an' something'll +happen. Say, Helena, fer God's sake, don't youse do it--de Doc was bad +enough dis afternoon when he let youse down easy, but he's worse now, +an'--" + +"Worse?" Helena interrupted, smiling a little apathetically. "In what +way is he worse? And how do you know? You haven't seen Doc, have you?" + +"No," the Flopper answered, circling his lips with his tongue again. +"No; I ain't seen de Doc since--but I seen Pale Face. Say, Helena"--the +Flopper's words came stumbling out now, agitated, perturbed, not +altogether coherent--"wot's de answer I dunno; I dunno wot's de matter +here. Say"--he pointed suddenly to the Patriarch, whose face was turned +toward them as he stroked thoughtfully at his silver beard--"he's got me +fer fair--dere ain't no fake here--dis way ter live is de real t'ing--he +ain't like you an' me--he's _more'n_ dat--look at him now--youse'd t'ink +he could see us, an' was listenin' ter wot we said. I dunno wot's de +end--I dunno wot's de matter wid me. I was scared more'n ever out dere +dis afternoon on de lawn, an' I thought mabbe God 'ud strike me +dead--but 'tain't only dat I'm scared ter buck de game any more, 'tain't +only dat--I don't _wanter_ any more, an' it don't make no difference +about de dough--I wanter live straight, same as him, same as de guys +around here, same--same as Mamie. Say, Helena, say, do youse believe in +love--in--in de _real_ t'ing?" + +Helena's apathy was gone now--a flush dyed her cheeks. She was not +startled at what the Flopper had said--she had seen it coming, +subconsciously, vaguely, mistily, for days now, only she had been +immersed in herself--she was not startled, and yet, in a way, she was. +The end! She too had been thinking about that--and she too did not know. +What _was_ the end? + +"You were going to say something about Pale Face," she said, prompting +the Flopper. "Something about Pale Face and Doc." + +"Yes," said the Flopper, and again the tip of his tongue sought his lips +nervously. "Dat's why I don't want youse ter go out wid Thornton +ter-night. Pale Face has got it de same as me, an' he told de Doc dis +afternoon, out in de path dere, after de Doc left de cottage here. Dere +was a showdown--see? De Doc 'ud kill youse an' Thornton ter-night if he +caught youse ter-gether. He's like a wild man. When Pale Face tells him +he was goin' ter quit, de Doc makes a grab fer him by de t'roat like a +tiger, only Pale Face gets away, an' den de Doc goes off widout a word, +laughin' like he'd escaped out of a dippy-house. An' Pale Face was +shakin' like he had a fit when he gets here. Say, Helena, don't youse go +ter-night." + +Helena made no answer for a moment. Thoughts, a world of them, confused +her, crowded upon her, as they had ever since Madison had left her room +a few hours ago--and the future was as some dread, bewildering maze +through which she had tried to stumble and grope her way--and had lost +herself ever deeper. How full of utter, miserable, bitter irony it was +that this thing, unscrupulous and shameful, that they had created in +their guilt should have brought the beauty and the glory and the +yearning of a new life to her--and yet should chain her remorselessly +to the old! True, she had broken with Madison, irrevocably, forever, she +supposed, it could not be other than that, for the ugly bond between +them was severed--but the game still went on! In repentance, on her +bended knees, sobbing as a tired and worn-out child, she could ask for +forgiveness; but the double life, the duplicity, by reason of the very +nature in which they had fashioned this iniquitous monster, still went +on, and like some hideous octopus reached out its waving, feeling +tentacles to encircle her--the Patriarch there; the world-wide +publicity, those poor creatures upon whose misery and whose suffering, +upon whose frantic, frenzied snatching out at hope they had preyed and +fed and gorged themselves; the life itself that she had taken up, in its +minutić, in its care of this great-souled, great-hearted man so dear to +her now, the life itself because it was what it was, changed though she +herself might be, though her soul cried out against it in its new-found +purity--all this still held her fast! The end--she could not see the +end. What would Madison do--and there was Thornton. Thornton! She caught +her breath a little. Yes; she had promised Thornton she would see him +to-night--she knew well enough why he wanted to see her--last night had +told her that--he loved her. Her face softened. Last night--it seemed a +thousand years ago, and it seemed but as an instant passed--last +night--she had learned what love was, and-- + +The Flopper stirred uneasily. + +"Wot'll I tell him?" asked the Flopper. "He's waitin' out dere by de +porch." + +"Why--why nothing," said Helena, and she smiled a little tremulously at +the Flopper. "Nothing. I'll--I'll go and see him." + +"Say, Helena," protested the Flopper, "don't youse--" + +But Helena stepped by him now. + +"Don't leave the Patriarch," she cautioned, turning on the threshold. +"I--I won't be late." + +She passed down the little hall, through the still, quiet room beyond, +empty now, through the porch, and out into the night--and then from out +the shadows by the row of maples, Thornton came hurriedly toward her, +holding out his hands. + +"It's good of you to come, Miss Vail," he said, in his grave, quiet way. +"You must be nearly dead with weariness after last night, and I am +afraid I am not very thoughtful--only I--" he broke off suddenly. "Shall +we sit here on the bench for a little while, or would you rather +walk--I--I have something to say to you." + +It was very dark--the storm of the night before still lingered in a +wrack of flying clouds, scurrying one after the other, veiling the +stars--and the moon was hidden--and hidden too was the sudden whiteness +of Helena's face. She knew what he had to say, knew it before she had +come to him--and yet she was there--and she had come resolutely +enough--only now she was afraid. + +"I would rather walk a little, I think," she said. "Here where--where I +can be within call. My absence last night seems to have made the +Patriarch very uneasy, you know, and--and--let us just walk up and down +here beneath the maples in front of the cottage." + +How heavy upon the air lay the fragrance of the flowers; how still the +night was, save for the constant muffled boom of the breaking surf!--for +a moment an almost ungovernable impulse swept upon her to make some +excuse, anything, no matter how wild, a sudden faintness, anything, and +run from him back into the cottage. And then she tried to think, think +in a desperate sort of way of some subject of conversation that she +might introduce that would stave off, postpone, defer the words that she +knew were even now on his lips--nothing--she could think of +nothing--only that she might have let the Flopper have his way, have let +him tell Thornton that she had gone to bed with--the pip. The _pip_! She +could have screamed out hysterically as the word flashed all unbidden +upon her--it stood for a very great deal that word--her world of the +years of yesterday. Could she never get away from that world; was it too +late--already! Could she, even with all the earnestness, all the +yearning that filled her soul, ever live it down, ever be what Naida +Thornton had called her that night--a good woman! Could she-- + +Thornton was speaking now--how strange that she would have done +anything, given anything to prevent his speaking--and done anything, +given anything to make him speak! How strange and perplexed and dismayed +her brain was! Love! Yes; she wanted love! God knew she wanted love such +as his was--for he had shown her what love, free from abasing passion, +in its purest sense, was. Like a glimpse of glory, hallowed, full of +wondrous amazement, it came to her--and then her head was lowered, and +the whiteness was upon her face again. + +He had halted suddenly and detained her with his hand upon her arm--with +that touch, so full of reverence, of fine deference, that had thrilled +her before--that thrilled her now, awakening into fuller life these new +emotions whose birth was in gladder, sweeter, purer aspirations. + +"Miss Vail," he said, in a low voice, "there was a letter--a letter that +Naida left--did you know of it?" + +They were close together, and it was very dark--but was it dark enough +to hide the crimson that she felt sweeping in a flood to her face! What +was in that letter? Had Mrs. Thornton written as she had talked, or only +about the Patriarch and the work in Needley? She had forgotten for the +moment about the letter--if there were more in it than that, if it were +about Thornton and herself and what Mrs. Thornton had hoped for between +them, and she admitted knowledge of it, what would he think, what +_could_ he think of her! But to deny it--no, not now. Once, and this +came to her in a little thrill of gladness, she would not have +hesitated; but now it--it was--it was not that world of yesterday. + +"Yes," she said faintly; "she told me that she had left a letter for +you." + +"It was about the work here," said Thornton gently. "Her whole soul +seemed wrapt up in that--and she asked me as her last wish to do what +she would have done if she had lived; and she spoke of you very +beautifully." Thornton paused for a moment--then he laid his hands on +Helena's shoulders--and she felt them tremble a little. "Miss +Vail--Helena," he said, and his voice was full of passionate earnestness +now, "I cannot say these things well--only simply. I came back here to +take an interest in the work, for I too have it at heart--but I have +more than that now--there is _you_--your dear self. I love you, +Helena--you have come into my life until you are everything and all to +me. Helena, look up at me--will you marry me, dear? Tell me what I long +to hear. Helena, Helena--I love you!" + +But Helena did not answer--only very slowly she raised her head. And his +hands on her shoulders tightened, and he was drawing her gently toward +him. Then he bent his head until it was close to hers, and his breath +was upon her cheek as it had been that other night--and the longing to +know that it was hers, a caress, pure in its motive, hers, snatched out +of all that had gone before that sought to rob her of the right to ever +know it, fascinated her, held her spellbound, possessed her. Closer his +lips came to hers, closer, until they touched her--and then, with a cry, +she sprang back, and her hands were fiercely pressed against her cheeks, +her throbbing temples. Was she mad! Mad! Was it for this that she had +forced herself to give him the opportunity to speak to-night, when her +motive was so different, when it had seemed the only _right_ thing left +for her to do! + +And now, still holding her temples, she raised her eyes to Thornton--he +had stepped back like a man stricken, his hands dropped to his sides. + +"I--we are mad!" she whispered. + +"Helena!" he said in a numbed way; and again; "Helena!" Then, with an +effort to control his voice: "You--you do not care--you do not love me?" + +"No," she said--and thereafter for a long time a silence held between +them. + +Then Thornton spoke. + +"Some day perhaps, Helena," he said, "you could learn to love me--for I +would teach you. Perhaps now you feel that your whole duty lies here in +this work to which you have so unselfishly given your life; but I would +not hinder that, only try to help as best I could. Perhaps I have been +abrupt, have spoken too soon--it is only a few weeks since I saw you +first, but it seems as though in those few weeks I had come to know you +as if I had known you all my life and--" + +But now she interrupted him, shaking her head in a sad little fashion. + +"You do not know me," she said. "Sometimes I think I do not know myself. +Think! You do not know where I came from to join the Patriarch here; you +have no single shred of knowledge about me; you do not know a single +particular of my life before you knew me." + +"I do not need to know," he answered gravely. "You are as genuine as +pure gold is genuine--it is in your voice, your smile, your eyes. It is +a crude simile perhaps, but one never asks where the pure gold was +dug--it stands for itself, for what it is, because it is what it +is--pure gold--at its face value." + +The words seemed to stab at Helena, condemning, accusing; and yet, too, +in a strange, vague way, they seemed to bring her a hope, a promise for +the days to come--at face value! If she could live hereafter--at face +value! + +"Listen," she said, and her voice was very low. "I do not know how to +say what I must say to you. Last night I knew that--that you loved me. I +had not thought of you like that, in that way, until then, or--or I +should have tried never to have let this hurt come to you. But last +night I knew, and since then I have known that sooner or later you +would--would tell me of it." She stopped for an instant--her eyes full +of tears now. "And so," she went on presently, "I have let you speak +to-night because it was better, it was even necessary that I should do +so at once--because this could not go on--because you must go away +and--" + +"Necessary?" he repeated. "I--I do not understand." + +"No," she said helplessly; "you do not understand--and I--I cannot +explain. Oh, I do not know what to say to you, only that you must take +what I say, as you have taken me--at face value." + +"I do not understand," he said again. "Helena, I do not understand. Are +you in trouble--tell me?" + +"No," she said. + +"But I cannot go away like this!" he cried out suddenly. "I cannot go +and leave you, Helena. You have come into my life and filled it; and I +cannot let you pass out of it--like this--without an effort to hold what +has come to mean everything to me now. You may not love me now, but some +day--" + +She shook her head, interrupting him once more. + +"There can never be a 'some day,'" she said. "Oh, I do not want to hurt +you--you, to whom I owe more than you will ever know--but--but there can +never be anything between us, and--and we are only making it harder for +ourselves now--aren't we?" + +And then he leaned abruptly toward her. + +"Is there--some one else?" he asked in a strained voice. + +And to Helena the question came as though it had been an inspiration +given him--for after that he would ask no more, seek no more to +understand, for he was too big and strong and fine for that; and even if +it was hopeless now this love that she had known for Madison, even if it +could never be again, still that love was hers, and she could answer +truthfully. + +"Yes," she said beneath her breath. + +For a moment Thornton neither moved nor spoke. Then he held out his +hand. + +"Miss Vail," he said simply, "will you tell this 'some one else' that +another man beside himself is the better for having known you. +Good-night. And may God bring you happiness through all your life." + +But she did not speak--they were standing by the rustic bench and she +sank down upon it, and, with her head hidden in one arm outflung across +the back of the seat, was sobbing softly. + +And he stood and watched her for a little space, his face grave and +white; then taking the hand that lay listlessly in her lap, he raised it +to his lips--and turned away. + +And so he left her--and so, because of this, he knocked upon another +door that night, and all unwittingly gave to that "some one else" +himself the message that he had asked Helena to deliver. + +Madison, pacing his room like a caged beast, his teeth working upon the +cigar that he had never thought to light, paid no attention to the +summons until it had been repeated twice; then, with a glance around the +room, his eyes lingering for a critical instant upon the trunks, closed +now, the trays restored to their hiding places, he stepped to the door, +unlocked it, and flung it open. And at sight of Thornton, mechanically, +as second nature to him, outwardly, like a mask, there came a smile upon +his working lips, a suave, unconcerned composure to his face; while +inwardly, in his dazed, fogged brain where chaos raged, surged an +impulse to fling himself upon the other, wreck a mad vengeance upon the +man--and then swift upon the heels of this an impulse to refrain, for if +Helena was straight why should he harm Thornton--and then the shuttle +again--why should he not--hadn't Helena said that she had learned what +love was last night--and last night she had been with Thornton. How his +brain whirled! What had brought Thornton here, anyhow? If he stayed very +long perhaps he would batter Thornton to jelly after all! Quick, almost +instantaneous in their sequence came this wild jumble singing dizzily +its crazy refrain through his mind--and then to his amazement he heard +some one speaking pleasantly--and to his amazement it was himself. + +"Come in, Thornton. Come in--and take a chair." + +"Thanks," Thornton answered; and, entering the room, closed the door +behind him. "No; I won't sit down--I shall only remain a moment." + +The lamp was on the washstand, and, intuitively again, Madison shifted +his position to bring his face into shadow--and leaned against the foot +of the bed. He stared at Thornton, nodding--Thornton's face was white +and exceedingly haggard--rather curious for Thornton to look that way! + +"Madison," said Thornton abruptly, "I believe you to be a gentleman in +the best sense of the word, and because of that, and because of the +unusual circumstances that first brought us together and the mutual +interests that have since been ours, I have come to you to-night to tell +you, first, that I am going away from Needley and that I shall not +return--and then to ask a service and repose a trust in you. You have +said several times that you intended to remain here and take a personal +and active part in the work?" + +Madison removed the chewed cigar end from one corner of his mouth--and +placed it in the other. + +"Yes," said Madison. + +"Then this is what I want to say," said Thornton seriously. "For my own +sake, because it was my wife's wish, and for other reasons as well, my +interest here, though I am going away, will be just as great as it has +ever been; and so I want you to keep me thoroughly posted, and when the +time comes that I can be of further material assistance to let me know. +I impose only one condition--you are to say nothing to Miss Vail about +it--you can make anything that I may do appear to come from yourself." + +"Say nothing to Miss Vail!" repeated Madison vaguely--then a sort of +ironic jest seemed to take possession of him: "But Miss Vail keeps all +the funds." + +"That is why I am asking you to represent me," said Thornton quietly. "I +am afraid that she might have a natural diffidence about accepting +anything more from me--I asked Miss Vail to marry me to-night, and she +refused." + +The cigar kind of slid down unnoticed from the corner of Madison's +mouth--and he leaned forward, hanging with a hand behind him to the +bedpost--and stared at Thornton. + +"You--_what_!" he gasped. + +"Yes; I know," Thornton answered--and moved abruptly toward the door. +"Love makes one's temerity very great--doesn't it? I asked her to marry +me--because I loved her." He came back from the door and held out his +hand, "I've told you what I would tell no other man, Madison. You +understand now why--and you'll do this for me?" + +What answer Madison made he never knew himself--he only knew that he was +staring at the door after Thornton had gone out, and that he wanted to +laugh crazily. Marry Helena! Thornton had asked Helena to marry him +because he loved her. God, there was humor here! His brain itself seemed +to cackle at it--_marry_ Helena! + +And then suddenly there seemed no humor at all--only black, infamous +shame and condemnation--and he straightened up from where he leaned +against the bedpost, his face set and strained. + +"Thornton had asked Helena to marry him because he _loved_ her"--the +words came slowly, haltingly, aloud--and then he covered his face with +his hands. But he, he who loved her too--what had _he_ done! + + + + +--XXII-- + +THE SHRINE + + +For a little time Madison stood there in his room, motionless, staring +unseeingly before him--and then, as one awakening from a dream that had +brought dismay and a torment too realistic to be thrown from him on the +instant, his brain still a little blunted, he took up his hat +mechanically, went out from the room, descended by the back stairs to +the rear door of the hotel, and took the road to the Patriarch's +cottage. + +And as he walked in the freshness of the night, the restless turmoil of +his soul that since early afternoon had brought him near to the verge of +madness itself, that had robbed him of sane virility, that a moment +since in his room had suddenly begun to lift from him even as the leaden +clouds in the vault above him now were scattering, breaking, and through +the rifts a moon-glint and the starlight came, passed from him +utterly--and a strange calm, a strange joy, a strange sadness was upon +him--and his brain for the first time in many hours was rational, +keen--and he was master of himself again--and yet master of himself no +more! + +He smiled a little at the seeming paradox--smiled a little wistfully. He +was beaten--by the game--he had won. How strange it was that sense of +more than resignation now--a sense that seemed like one of +thankfulness--a sense that bade him fling wide his arms as though +suddenly they had been loosed from bondage and he was free, free as the +God-given air around him. + +He could understand Helena, and the Flopper, and Pale Face Harry now. +With them it had come slowly, in a gradual concatenation, a progression, +as it were, that had worked upon them, molding them, changing them day +by day--and he had been too blind to see, or, seeing, had measured the +changes only by a standard as false as all his life had been false. With +him it had come in a crash, unheralded, that had left him a naked, +quivering, stricken thing to know madness, terror and despair, to taste +of emotions that had sickened the soul itself. + +On Madison walked--along the road, across the little bridge, into the +wagon track where, under the arched branches, it was utter dark. There +was no one upon the road--he passed no one--saw no one--he was alone. + +He had lost Helena--but he understood her now--understood the depth of +remorse that she was living through, the terror and the dread as she +sought escape, the fear of him--yes, it would be fear now where once it +had been love! He had lost Helena--that was the price he had paid--but +he understood her now, and he was going to her to help her if he could, +going to tell her that he, too, was changed--as she was changed. + +His hands clenched suddenly. God, the misery, the hopelessness, the +wreck and ruin that lay at his door! And amends--what amends could he +make--it was too late for that! How clearly he saw now--when it was too +late! Her life was a broken thing, robbed, stripped and despoiled for +all the years to come. Their love had not been love--she had given it +its name--"passion, vice, lust, sin, degradation and misery and shame." +And then love had come to her, into her life, love as God had meant love +to be, and she had learned what love was she had said--only that she +might never know its fulness, only that it might bring her added +bitterness and added sorrow! Thornton had asked her to marry him that +night--and she had refused him--because the past, it must have been as a +shuddering, hideous phantom that the past had risen before her, had left +her no other thing to do but turn away. It seemed he could see her--see +her bury her face in her hands and-- + +He stopped short in his walk. Was he changed so much as this! Did he +care so much that it was her happiness--even with another--that counted +most! Yes; it was true--he was changed indeed. And the change had +brought him too, it seemed, to learn what love was--too late. + +He went forward again--a little more slowly; now; a sadness upon him, +but, through the sadness, an uplift from that new sense of freedom that +was as a balm, soothing him in the most curious way. His had been a rude +awakening--mind and body and soul had been torn asunder; but he knew +now, as he recalled the hours just past when he had looked on fear, when +the gamut of human passion had raged over him, when he had stood +staggered and appalled before, yes, before his God, that he had come +forth a new man. And how strange had been the ending, how strange and +simple, and yet how significant, typifying the broad, clean outlook on +life, bringing coherency to his tottering mind, had been those words of +Thornton's--"because he loved her." + +He had reached the end of the wagon track now, and he walked across the +lawn, his steps noiseless on the velvet sward, and passed between the +maples; and the moon gleam--for the flying clouds, rear-guard of the +routed storm, were flung wide apart, dispersed--fell upon a coiled and +huddled little figure all in white, that was quite still and motionless +upon the rustic seat beside the porch. + +She did not see him, did not hear him, until he stood before her and +called her name. + +"Helena!" he said unsteadily. "Helena!" + +She raised her head and looked at him; and then she rose from the bench, +and, still holding to it by one hand, drew back a little. There was no +outcry, no startled action. Her dark eyes played questioningly upon +him--and he could see that they were wet with tears, and that the face +from out of which they looked was very white. + +"Why have you come back here to-night?" she asked in a low tone; and +then, suddenly, a fear, a terror in her voice, as the Flopper's warning +flashed upon her: "Thornton--you have seen Thornton?" + +"Yes," he said, surprised a little that she should know; "I saw Thornton +a few minutes ago." + +She came toward him now and clutched his arm. + +"What have you done?" she cried tensely. "Answer me! You--you met him on +your way here?" + +It was a moment before Madison replied. He had schooled himself of +course for more than this, yet the words hurt--that was why she had +asked for Thornton--she was afraid that he had harmed the man. + +"No," he said; "I did not meet him. I think you must have been longer +here on that bench than you imagined--haven't you? He came to my room." + +"Your room! What for? Tell me!" + +Madison smiled with grave whimsicality. + +"To call me a gentleman and repose a trust." + +She stepped back again, uncertainly. + +"I do not know what you are talking about," she said in a strained way. +"And you are talking very strangely." + +"Yes," he said. "Everything is strange to-night. It is like a new world, +and--and I have not found my way--yet." + +She drew back still further. + +"Are you mad?" she whispered. + +"No," he answered. "Not now--that Is past." + +She looked at him for a little time; and, her hands joined before her, +her fingers locked and interlocked nervously. + +"And--and Thornton?" she asked, at last. + +"It was a trust," said Madison slowly; "but it was betrayed before it +was given. He did not know--the game. He did not know what was +between--you and me." + +"No," she said--and the word came almost inaudibly. + +"And so," he said, "I will tell you, for it cannot matter now in any +case. He told me that he had asked you to marry him to-night--and that +you had refused." + +Madison paused, and swept his hand across his forehead--his voice +somehow had suddenly grown hoarse, beyond control. + +"Yes," she said--and reached again for the back of the bench, supporting +herself against it. + +"He is going away," Madison continued; "and he is to send more money +here for the 'cause'--when I ask for it--only you are not to know, +because you might be diffident about taking it after refusing him." + +She stared at him numbly--there was no sarcasm in his words; in his +tones only a sort of dreary monotony. She shivered a little--how cold it +seemed! She did not quite grasp his words--and yet she shrank from them. +And then her very soul seemed to cry out against them, to pit itself +against their meaning, as their meaning surged upon her. And +unconsciously she drew herself up, and the whiteness of her face fled +before a rush of color. + +"Oh, the shame of it!" she burst out. "The bitter shame of it! You shall +not touch the money--do you hear! You shall not touch it! I--I thought +that you had understood this afternoon. I am glad then that you have +come to-night--if I must say more to make you understand. This is the +end! I do not care what happens--the little I can do now to atone for +what I have done, I am going to do. The game is at an end--you shall not +touch another cent--and everything that we have taken goes back to those +whom we have worse than robbed it from! You hear--you understand! I will +cry it out in the town street if there is no other way--but it shall +stop--it shall stop to-night"--she was panting, breathless, the little +figure erect, outraged, quivering--and then suddenly the shoulders +seemed to droop, the lips to tremble, and she was on her knees upon the +grass beside the bench, and sobbing as a child. + +"Helena!" Madison said hoarsely. "Helena! Listen! That is what I came +for to-night--to find a way out for you, for us all, if I can." + +The passionate outburst passed--and she was on her feet again, facing +him. + +"You are clever--clever!" she cried fiercely. "But you shall not play +with me--you shall not trick me--I meant every word I said!" + +But now Madison made no answer. The moonlight bathed them both in its +clear, white radiance; and touched the sward, shading it to softest +green; and the trees limned out like fairy things against the night; and +the calm light flooded the little cottage with its hidden walls where +the ivy and the creepers grew, and lingered over the trellises to drink +the fragrance of the flowers that peeped out from their leafy beds. And +upon Madison's face crept slowly the anguish that was in his soul--until +it was mirrored there--until unconsciously it answered her where words +would have been useless things. Like some white-robed, sorrowing angel, +she seemed, as she stood there before him--the brown eyes full of +shadow, troubled; the sweet face tear-splashed; the little figure in its +simple muslin frock, pitiful in its brave defiance. And pure--just God, +how pure she looked!--the brow stainless white under the mass of dark, +coiled hair; the perfect throat of ivory. And--and the misery that was +in every feature of her face, in every line of her poise--and he had +brought her that--_he_ had brought her to that--and now when he loved +her as he might have loved her once and known her love in return, when +his heart cried out for her, when she was all in life he cared for, she +was gone from him, out of his life, and between them was a barrier he +could never pass--a barrier of his own raising. + +And so he made no answer, for indeed he had not heard her; but she was +coming toward him now, her hands outstretched in a wondering way, +wistfully, pleadingly, as though to hold back a refutation that would +change the dawning light upon her face to dismay and grief again. + +"It--it is true," she faltered. "It has come to you too--this change, +this new life that has come to me. It is true--I can see it in your +face." + +"Yes; it is true," he answered, in a low voice. + +"Thank God!" she whispered--and hid her face in her hands--and presently +he heard her sob again. + +A tiny cloud edged the moon, and the light faded, and it grew dark, and +the darkness hid her; then softly, timidly almost it seemed, the +radiance came creeping through the branches overhead again--and then he +spoke. + +"Helena," he said, steadying his voice with an effort, "you spoke of +atonement a little while ago; but there is no atonement that I can make +to you--nothing that I can do to change what I would give my soul to +change. I know what it meant to you to send Thornton away to-night, for +I love you now as you love him--I know why you did it, and--" + +She was staring at him a little wildly--her hands pressed against her +cheeks. + +"Love--Thornton," she repeated in a sort of wondering way, a long pause +between the words. + +"Yes," he said gently; "I know. Have you forgotten what you told me this +afternoon?--that you had learned--last night--what love was." + +She shook her head. + +"I do not love Thornton," she said in a monotone. "And yet it is true +that through him I learned what love was, what it _could_ be--don't you +understand?" + +Understand! No; it seemed that he could never understand! She did not +love Thornton! And then, as some fiery cordial, the words seemed to whip +through his veins, quickening the beat of his heart into wild, +tumultuous throbbing. Yes, yes, he could understand--it was +true--true--she did not love Thornton. + +"Helena!" he cried--and stretched out his arms to her. "I thought, oh, +God, I thought that I had lost you--Helena!" + +But she did not move. + +"What does it matter to you whether I love Thornton or not?" she said +dully. "Does it change anything where you and I are concerned--does it +change what I told you this afternoon--that I would not go back to +_that_." + +"To that! Ah, no!"--his voice rang dominant, vibrant, triumphant now. +"Helena, don't you understand? We are to begin life again--in a new +way, the true way, the only way. Don't you see--I love you!" + +Still she did not move--but there was a great whiteness in her face, and +in the whiteness a great light. + +"You mean?"--her lips scarcely seemed to form the words. + +"Yes!" he cried. "Yes; to make a home for you, to marry you if only you +love me still, to live in God's own sight and hold you as a sacred +gift--Helena! Helena!"--his arms went out to her again, and the yearning +in his soul was in his voice--to crush her to him, to hold her in his +arms, and hold her there where none should take her from him, to shield +and guard her through the years to come, to live with her a life that +seemed to break now in a vista of gladness, of glory, as the day-dawn +breaks with its golden rays of God-given promise--the new life, perfect +and pure and innocent--because he loved her. "Helena! Speak to me. Tell +me that it is not too late--tell me that you love me too." + +And then her eyes were raised to his, and they were wet--but there was +love-light and a wondrous happiness shining through the tears. + +"Helena!" he murmured brokenly--and swept her into his arms--and kissed +the eyelids, lowered now, the hair, the white brow, the lips--kissed +her, and held her there, her clinging arms about his neck, her face half +hidden on his shoulder. + +And so for a space they stood there--and there were no words to say, +only the song in their hearts in deathless melody--but after a little +time he held her from him, and lifted up her face that he might look his +fill upon it. + +"Helena," he said, "I cannot understand it all yet--it is as though it +were born out of the sin and the darkness and the blackness of what is +gone--as though here at this Shrine that we created in mockery and crime +it was meant that you and I should save each other for each other. And +yet this Shrine as we have made it is a thing of guilt, and it has +brought us all, you and I, and Harry, and the Flopper to a new life." + +She lay still for a moment in his arms--then her hand crept up and +touched his forehead and smoothed back his hair. + +"I do not quite know how to say it," she said a little timidly. "When +you went away this afternoon, the Patriarch took me back into his room, +and--and I knelt at his knees--and after a little while my mind seemed +very calm and quiet--do you know what I mean? And I tried to think +things out--and understand. And it seemed to come to me that there was a +shrine everywhere if we would only look for it--that God has put a +shrine in every heart, only we are so blind--that every one can make +their own surroundings beautiful and good and true, no matter where they +are, or how poor, or how rich--and if they live like that they must be +good and true themselves." + +"Yes," he said slowly; then, after a moment: "And faith too is very much +like that." + +"Only some need a sign," she said. + +There was silence again, while her hand crept over his face and back to +his forehead to smooth his hair once more--and then very gently she +slipped out of his arms. + +"What are we to do about--about everything here?" she asked soberly. "We +are forgetting that in our own happiness. How are we going to return the +money that we have taken?" + +"I don't know yet," he answered. "I haven't thought much about it--but +we'll manage somehow." + +She shook her head. + +"I've thought a great deal about it since yesterday--and I'm not so sure +it is to be 'managed somehow'--and the more I've thought the more +tangled and complicated it has become." + +"Well, we'll untangle it to-morrow," said Madison, with a smile, "and--" + +"No"--she touched his sleeve. "To-night. Let us do it now--to-night. I +should be so happy then." + +He smiled at her again, and drew her to him. + +"But we ought to have Pale Face and the Flopper too, don't you think +so?" he said. + +"Of course," she said; "and so we will. The Flopper is here, and we can +send him for Harry. It's early yet--not ten o'clock." + +"All right," said Madison; "if you wish it. We'll go in then and get the +Flopper." + +And so they walked to the cottage door, and into the porch--but in the +porch Madison held her for a moment, and lifted up her face again and +looked into her eyes. + +"My--wife," he whispered--and took her in his arms. + + + + +--XXIII-- + +THE WAY OUT + + +Strange scene indeed! Strange antithesis to that other night when these +four were gathered in that crime-reeked, sordid room at the Roost--where +Pale Face Harry, gaunt, emaciated, coughed, and, trembling, plunged a +morphine needle in his arm; where the Flopper, a wretched tatterdemalion +from the gutter, licked greedy lips and gloated in his rascality; where +Helena, flushed-faced, inhaled her interminable cigarettes and dangled +her legs from the table edge; where Madison, suave, flippant, so certain +of his own infallibility, glorying in his crooked masterpiece, laid the +tribute to genius at his own feet! + +Strange scene! Strange antithesis indeed! It was quiet here--very +still--only the distant, muffled boom of the pounding surf. And the +shrine-room, for the first time since its creation, was locked against +the night. It lay now in shadow from the single lamp upon the table--and +the light, where it fell in a shortened circle, for the lamp itself had +a little green paper shade, was soft, subdued and mellow. + +Where he had been wont to sit in the days gone by, the Patriarch sat now +in his armchair by the empty fireplace--in the shadow--his head turned +in his strange, listening, attentive way toward the table--toward the +four who were grouped around it. There had been no one to stay with him +in his own room, and so Helena had brought him there--to play his silent +part. + +At the table, Pale Face Harry, bronzed and rugged, clear-eyed, a robust +figure from his clean living, his months of the out-of-doors, traced the +grain of the wood on the table mechanically with his finger nail, his +face sober, perplexed; while the Flopper, clear-eyed too, his face +almost a handsome one in its bright alertness, now that it had rounded +out and the hard, premature lines were gone, mirrored Pale Face Harry's +perturbed expression, his eyes fixed anxiously on Madison opposite him; +and Helena, sitting beside Madison, was very quiet, her forehead +wrinkled and pursed up into little furrows, the brown eyes with a hint +of dismay and consternation lurking in their depths, one hand stretched +out to lay quite unconsciously on Madison's sleeve--and from the sleeve +to steal occasionally into Madison's hand. + +Madison, his lips tight, pushed back his chair suddenly--they had been +sitting there an hour. + +"You were right, Helena," he said, with a nervous laugh. "The more you +try to figure it out the worse it gets." + +"Aw, say, Doc," pleaded the Flopper desperately, "don't youse give it +up--youse have got de head--youse ain't never left us in a hole yet." + +Madison looked at him, and smiled mirthlessly. + +"My head!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I got you into this, all of you--but +it will take more than my head to get you out. If I could stand for it +myself, I'd do it--but I can't without dragging you in too--we're too +intimately mixed up. If I said it was a deal of mine--they'd ask where +Helena came from--they'd ask where you came from, Flopper. We're +beaten--beaten every way we turn. The game has got us--we haven't a +move. We played it to the limit, the slickest swindle that was ever +worked, and it worked till there's more money than I've tried to count. +And then it changed us from thieves, from--from anything you like--and +now that we want to quit, now that we want a chance to make good, it's +got us in its grip and we can't get away." He flirted a bead of moisture +from his forehead. "My God, I don't know what to do!" he muttered +hoarsely. "It was easy enough to _talk_ about stopping this thing, about +returning the money--but I can't see the way out." + +No one answered him--all were silent--as silent as the mute and +venerable figure that sat, listening attentively it seemed, in the +armchair by the fireplace. + +Madison turned abruptly after a moment to Pale Face Harry. + +"You, Harry," he said, laying a hand on the other's shoulder, "you're +the only one of the four that can walk out of it--you don't show in the +center of the stage--you go. You said the old folks would cry over +you--twenty years is a long time to stay away from the old folks--I--I +never knew mine. You go on back to the little farm out there in the West +where you said you'd like to go, and--and give the old people a hand for +the years they've got left." + +Pale Face Harry shook his head. + +"God knows I'd like to," he said, choking a little; "that's what I +counted on. God knows I'd like to go out there and lead a decent +life--but I don't go that way--I don't crawl out and leave you--what's +coming to you is coming to me." + +"That won't help us any, Harry," said Madison softly, and his hand +tightened in an eloquent pressure on Pale Face Harry's shoulder. "You +go--and God bless you!" + +Again Pale Face Harry shook his head. + +"No," he said. "I stick. If the game's got you, it's got me too--to the +limit. There's no use talking about that." + +The Flopper licked his lips miserably. + +"Swipe me!" he mumbled. "Hell wasn't never like dis! Me an' Mamie we've +got it fixed, an' her old man says he'll take me inter de store. Say, +Doc, say--ain't dere a chanst ter live straight now we wants ter?" + +But Madison did not hear the Flopper save in a vague, inconsequential +way--he was looking at Helena. She had drooped forward a little over the +table, her chin in her hands, her lips quivering--and a white misery in +her face seemed to bring a chill, a numbness to his heart. His Hands +clenched, and he began to pace up and down the room. + +How buoyantly he had tackled the problem--buoyant in his own +emancipation, buoyant in his love, in the future full of dreams, full of +inspiration, full of the new life that Helena and he would live +together! How confidently he had settled himself to undo in a moment the +work of months, to outline a mere matter of detail, with never a thought +that he was face to face with a problem that he could never solve--that +brought him to the realization that the game, not he, was the master +still, iron-handed, implacable--that though the mental chains were +loosed it was but as if, in ironic justice, in grim punishment, only +that he might look, clear-visioned, upon the ignominy of the physical +shackles he himself had forged and fashioned so readily, whose breaking +now was beyond his strength. + +He had done his work well! In the first few moments, an hour ago, when +he had begun to consider the problem, as seeming difficulties arose, he +had turned coolly from one alternative to another. And then slowly a +sickening sense of the truth had begun to dawn upon him--and like a man +lost in a great forest, peril around him, he had plunged then +desperately in this direction and in that, as a glimmering point of +light here or there had seemed to promise an avenue of escape--only to +find it vanish at almost the first step, the way closed as by some +invisible, remorseless power. No, not invisible--it seemed to take the +form of the Patriarch--for at every turn the majestic figure stood and +would not let him pass. + +Madison's face was gray now as he walked up and down the room--there was +his own revulsion, his abhorrence at the part he had played, a frantic, +honorable eagerness to be rid of it; there were these others too who +looked to him, the Flopper and Pale Face Harry; and there was--Helena! +He did not dare to look at the misery in her face again--he was unmanned +enough now. + +And then Helena spoke. + +"It--it seems," she said, in a low broken way, "as if--as if God did not +want to pardon us--as if our repentance had come too late, and that +there was no Eleventh Hour for us." Then, in passionate pleading, facing +Madison: "God cannot mean that--it is we who cannot see. There is some +way out--there must be--there _must_ be." + +"It begins and ends with the Patriarch," said Madison monotonously. "We +can't sacrifice him--can we! What's the use of going over it again? It +all comes back to the same point--the Patriarch." + +"Yes, yes; I know, I know," she said piteously. "But think, +Doc--_think_! See now, we just send back all the money and jewels--we +know to whom they belong." + +"Well, what reason do we give?" Madison said heavily. "The Patriarch is +alive and well. The immediate corollary is that from the moment we do +that, to-morrow morning for instance, every gift, every offering here is +suddenly refused. What reason do we give? If it were only the donors who +were to be considered it might be done. It's human nature that +ninety-nine out of every hundred of them"--his voice rose a little +bitterly--"would probably be only too glad to get their money back--and +the mere statement that you, as the Patriarch's grand-niece, his only +relative, on mature thought did not consider the project as planned +advisable might suffice. But this thing goes beyond that, beyond even +the remaining few who are earnestly interested and would cause us +trouble--it is world-wide in its publicity! Every newspaper in the land +would snatch at it for a headline, and ask--why? And they would not be +content with simply asking why--this thing is too big for that--too much +before the people's eyes--too good 'copy.' They'd start in to find +out--and the result is inevitable. Our safety so far has lain in the +fact that there has been no suspicion aroused; but snooping around a +bank vault at midnight with a mask on and a bull's-eye lantern fades to +a whisper as a suspicion-arouser compared with anybody willingly +coughing up a bunch of money once they've got their claws on it--and a +yellow journal, let alone an army corps of them, on the scent of a +possible sensation has all the detective bureaus in the country pinned +to the ropes--they'd have us uncovered quicker than I like to think +about it--and that means--" + +He stopped, and with a hurried motion, carried his hands across his +eyes--Helena, pure as one of God's own angels now, to come to that, to +come to-- + +It was the Flopper who completed the sentence. + +"Ten spaces up de river," said the Flopper, and shivered, and his tongue +sought his lips; "or mabbe--mabbe twenty." + +Pale Face Harry stirred uneasily. + +"There's the other way," he said without looking up, his eyes on his +finger nail that traced the grain of the wood again. "Get the money and +the sparklers all done up and addressed to the ones they came from, send +'em off in a bunch to Thornton--and we fly the coop before he gets them, +disappear, fade away--and take our chances of getting caught." + +"An' den it's all off wid me an' Mamie"--the Flopper's face grew hard. +"Nix on dat! Dat don't go!" + +"We cannot do that, Harry," said Helena, in a tired voice. "There +is--the Patriarch." + +"Yes," said Madison, beginning his stride up and down the room again. +"After all, whether we could give back the money without being caught, +or whether we couldn't, is not the vital thing; there is--the +Patriarch." + +Helena's eyes were on the silent figure in the shadows by the fireplace. + +"If--if it were not for him," she said, "I think that perhaps--perhaps I +might be brave enough to confess it all, and--and not try to escape +from the punishment that I deserve. But he would know--he cannot see, +nor hear, nor speak, but he would know--as he seems so strangely, so +wonderfully, so supernaturally to know and understand everything. And, +oh, he means so much to me, to us all, for it is he, more than any one +else, who has saved us from--from what we were. And he loves us. It +would shatter his faith, ruin all that his life has meant to him, +and--and we cannot bring him grief and sorrow like that. Oh, what can we +do! What _can_ we do! We cannot stop--and we cannot go on! We cannot +stay here even if we returned the money successfully, and we cannot stay +here if we kept it as it is; for things would still have to go on as +they are, even if we didn't mean to steal any more, no matter what we +might say or do, for it's beyond our control now, and to stay means that +we should still have to live and lead our double lives, still have to +practise hypocrisy and deceit, and--and I cannot--we cannot do that any +more. And the only way to get away from it all is to run away--and we +can't do that, either! There is--the Patriarch. We cannot leave him--to +break his heart--with none he loves to care for him. We can't do that. +He is a very old, old man, and--and I think he has been happy with us, +and--and we must make him happy always as long as he lives. We cannot go +away and leave him. We can't do that." Then, in a heartbroken, +despairing cry: "We can't do--_anything_!" + +No one answered her. She had begged Madison to go over it all again--and +she had summed it up herself. There was--the Patriarch. + +There was utter silence in the room now, save only for that low, solemn +boom of distant surf--for Madison had stopped his nervous pacing up and +down, and stood now by the Patriarch's armchair gazing into the +fireplace. + +The minutes passed, and the silence in that dim, shadowed room grew +tense--and tenser still--until the very shadows themselves, as the lamp +flickered now and then, seemed to creep and shift and readjust +themselves in stealth. No sound--no movement--utter stillness--only, +from without, the mourning of the surf, like a dirge now. + +And then, with a sudden sob, Helena flung out her arms across the table +toward the Patriarch. + +"Oh, if he could only speak!" she cried pitifully. "If he could only +speak--he would show us the way out." + +The words seemed to come to Madison as an added pang. He turned his eyes +instinctively from the fireplace to the Patriarch beside him--and then, +a moment, as a man stricken, he stood there--and then reaching quickly +for the lamp from the table he held it up, and leaned forward toward the +figure in the chair. + +Helena, startled at the act, rose almost unconsciously to her feet, her +hands holding tightly to the table edge--looking at Madison, looking at +the silent form where Pale Face Harry, where the Flopper looked. + +"What is it?" she asked tensely, under her breath. + +Madison's lips moved--silently. His face was white, ashen--there was no +color in it. Then his lips moved once more. + +"The way out," he said; and again, in a low, awed way: "_The way out_. +We can make restitution now--we can give it all back--he _has_ shown us +the way out." + +Helena's lips were quivering, tears were dimming the brown eyes, +trembling on the lashes, as she stepped now to Madison's side. + +"It is God who has shown us the way out," she whispered brokenly--and +dropping down before the chair, her little form shaken with sobs, she +hid her face on the Patriarch's knees. + +And serene and peaceful as a child in sleep, a smile like a benediction +on the saintly face, the Patriarch sat in his armchair by the fireplace +where he had been wont to sit in years gone by--and so he had passed on. + +The Patriarch was dead. + + + + +--XXIV-- + +VALE! + + +The years have passed--but in their passing have brought few changes to +the little village nestling in the Maine pines that border on the sea. +Not many changes--it is as though Time had touched it loath to touch at +all; as though some spirit lingering there, sweet and fresh and vernal, +had bade Time stay its hand. + +Not many changes--the same familiar faces gather around the stove in the +hotel office; and, neither as a memory, nor yet as of one who has gone, +but as if he were amongst them, living still, they speak of the +Patriarch as of yore. + +And with this little circle of kindly, simple folk Time has dealt gently +too, for there is only one who is no more--Cale Rodgers, the proprietor +of the general store. + +But the general store on the village street still flourishes, and in +Cale Rodgers' place is one whose speech is still a marvelous thing in +staid old New England ears--it is an Irish brogue perhaps, for his name +is Michael Coogan. There are little Coogans too, and Mamie is a happy +wife. And to the Coogans come sometimes letters from a far-western farm +to say that things are well and that prosperity has come to one who +signs himself--facetiously it always seems to Mamie who reads the +letters to her husband--as Pale Face Harry. + +And so the years have passed, and it is summer time again. The fields +are green; the trees in leaf; the flowers in bloom. And there are +visitors who have come again to the scenes of yesterday--a man and +woman--and between them a sturdy little lad of eight. They stop at the +end of the wagon track and look out across the lawn. + +It is still and peaceful, tranquil--and to them conies the soft, low +murmur of the surf. Slowly they walk across the lawn, and pass beneath +the splendid maples--and pause again. + +The cottage is like some poet's fancy, hidden shyly in its creepers and +its vines; and seems to speak and breathe in its simple beauty of the +gentle soul who once had lived there--and loved his fellow-men. It is as +it always was, open, free for all to pass within who wish to enter; for +loving hands have cared for it, and grateful purses, opened to its +needs, have kept it as--a Shrine. + +But they do not enter now, for Madison points to where the sunlight, as +it glints through the trees at the far end of the cottage, falls on a +slender shaft of marble. + +"Let us go there, Helena," he said softly. + +And so they walked that way, past the trellises laden with flowers, +past the end of the cottage; and presently they stopped again where, +beneath the maples' shade, rises the pure white stone--and beyond it is +the sweep of the eternal sea. + +Madison, his hair streaking just a little gray at the temples now, +removed his hat--and his face softened, saddened, as he read the simple +inscription: + + THE PATRIARCH + +The boy glanced at his father a little wonderingly--and then spelt out +the words. He shook his head. + +"I don't know what that means," he said. "What does that word mean?" + +Madison patted his head. + +"You tell him, Helena," he said--and came and stood beside her. + +And so Helena told the boy in simple language as much of the Patriarch's +story as she thought he could understand--and when she had finished the +boy's face was aglow. + +"And!" he said breathlessly, "and--and did he ever do a really, +truly-truly miracle?" + +There was silence for an instant--then a tender smile came trembling to +Helena's lips, and into the brown eyes crept the love-light, as she +reached out to Madison and her hand found his and held it very tightly. + +And Madison bent and kissed her; and drew the little lad between them +and laid his hand on the boy's head, and answered for Helena. + +"Yes, my son," he said; "and some day when you are a man you will +understand how great a miracle it was." + + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Miracle Man, by Frank L. 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Packard. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Miracle Man, by Frank L. Packard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Miracle Man + +Author: Frank L. Packard + +Release Date: April 7, 2005 [EBook #15578] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIRACLE MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Pilar Somoza and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<br/> +<h1>THE<br/> +MIRACLE MAN</h1> +<br/> +<h3>BY</h3> +<br/> +<h2>FRANK L. PACKARD</h2> + + +<center><h5>AUTHOR OF<br/> +GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN, ETC.</h5></center> +<br/><br/> +<center><h5>NEW YORK<br/> +GROSSET & DUNLAP<br/> +PUBLISHERS</h5></center> + +<center><h5>1914</h5></center> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<center><h4>TO<br/> +NEARLY<br/> +EVERYBODY</h4></center> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#I"><b>I</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE "ROOST"</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#II"><b>II</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>A NEW CULT</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#III"><b>III</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>NEEDLEY</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#IV"><b>IV</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE PATRIARCH</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#V"><b>V</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>A STRANGE CONVERSATION</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#VI"><b>VI</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>OFFICIALLY ENDORSED</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#VII"><b>VII</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE PATRIARCH'S GRAND NIECE</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#VIII"><b>VIII</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>IN WHICH THE BAIT IS NIBBLED</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#IX"><b>IX</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE PILGRIMAGE</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#X"><b>X</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE MIRACLE</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XI"><b>XI</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE AFTERMATH</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XII"><b>XII</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>"SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY"</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XIII"><b>XIII</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>REAL MONEY</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XIV"><b>XIV</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>KNOTTING THE STRINGS</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XV"><b>XV</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE MIRACLE OVERDONE</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XVI"><b>XVI</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>A FLY IN THE OINTMENT</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XVII"><b>XVII</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>IN WHICH HELENA TAKES A RIDE</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XVIII"><b>XVIII</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE BOOMERANG</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XIX"><b>XIX</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE SANCTUARY OF DARKNESS</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XX"><b>XX</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>TO THE VICTOR ARE THE SPOILS</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XXI"><b>XXI</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>FACE VALUE</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XXII"><b>XXII</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE SHRINE</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XXIII"><b>XXIII</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>THE WAY OUT</td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right'><a href="#XXIV"><b>XXIV</b></a></td> + <td align='left'>VALE!</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2>THE MIRACLE MAN</h2><!-- Page 9 --><br/> + + +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>—I—</h2> + +<h4>THE "ROOST"</h4> +<br/> + +<p>He was a misshapen thing, bulking a black blotch in the night at the +entrance of the dark alleyway—like some lurking creature in its lair. +He neither stood, nor kneeled, nor sat—no single word would describe +his posture—he combined all three in a sort of repulsive, formless +heap.</p> + +<p>The Flopper moved. He came out from the alleyway onto the pavement, into +the lurid lights of the Bowery, flopping along knee to toe on one leg, +dragging the other leg behind him—and the leg he dragged was limp and +wobbled from the knee. One hand sought the pavement to balance himself +and aid in locomotion; the other arm, the right, was twisted out from +his body in the shape of an inverted V, the palm of his hand, with half +curled, contorted fingers, almost touching his chin,<!-- Page 10 --> as his head sagged +at a stiff, set angle into his right shoulder. Hair straggled from the +brim of a nondescript felt hat into his eyes, and curled, dirty and +unshorn, around his ears and the nape of his neck. His face was covered +with a stubble of four days' growth, his body with rags—a coat; a +shirt, the button long since gone at the neck; and trousers gaping in +wide rents at the knees, and torn at the ankles where they flapped +around miss-mated socks and shoes.</p> + +<p>A hundred, two hundred people passed him in a block, the populace of the +Bowery awakening into fullest life at midnight, men, women and +children—the dregs of the city's scum—the aristocracy of upper Fifth +Avenue, of Riverside Drive, aping Bohemianism, seeking the lure of the +Turkey Trot, transported from the Barbary Coast of San Francisco. Rich +and poor, squalor and affluence, vice and near-vice surged by him, +voicing their different interests with laughter and sobs and soft words +and blasphemy, and, in a sort of mocking chorus, the composite effect +rose and fell in pitiful, jangling discords.</p> + +<p>Few gave him heed—and these few but a cursory, callous glance. The +Flopper, on the inside of the sidewalk, in the shadow of the buildings, +gave as little as he got, though his eyes were fastened sharply, now +ahead, now, screwing around his body to look behind him, on the faces of +the pedestrians as they passed; or, rather, he appeared to look through +and beyond those in his immediate vicinity to the ones that followed in<!-- Page 11 --> +his rear from further down the street, or approached him from the next +corner.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the Flopper shrank into a doorway. From amidst the crowd +behind, the yellow flare of a gasoline lamp, outhanging from a +secondhand shop, glinted on brass buttons. An officer, leisurely +accommodating his pace to his own monarchial pleasure, causing his +hurrying fellow occupants of the pavement to break and circle around +him, sauntered casually by. The Flopper's black eyes contracted with +hate and a scowl settled on his face, as he watched the policeman pass; +then, as the other was lost again in the crowd ahead, he once more +resumed his progress down the block.</p> + +<p>The Flopper crossed the intersecting street, his leg trailing a +helpless, sinuous path on its not over-clean surface, and started along +the next block. Halfway down was a garishly lighted establishment. When +near this the Flopper began to hurry desperately, as from further along +the street again his ear caught the peculiar raucous note of an +automobile horn accompanied by the rumbling approach of a heavy motor +vehicle. He edged his way now, wriggling, squirming and dodging between +the pedestrians, to the outer edge of the sidewalk, and stopped in front +of the music hall.</p> + +<p>A sight-seeing car, crammed to capacity, reaching its momentary Mecca, +drew up at the curb; and the guide's voice rose over the screech of the +brakes:</p> + +<p>"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will get out here for a little while. +This is Black Ike's famous<!-- Page 12 --> Auditorium, the scene of last week's +sensational triple murder! Please remember that there is no charge for +admission to patrons of the company. Just show your coupons, ladies and +gentlemen, and walk right ahead."</p> + +<p>The passengers began to pour from the long seats to the ground. The +Flopper's hat was in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Fer God's sake, gents an' ladies, don't pass me by," he cried +piteously. "I could work once, but look at me now—I was run over by a +fire truck. God bring pity to yer hearts—youse have money fer pleasure, +spare something fer me."</p> + +<p>The first man down from the seat halted and stared at the twisted, +unsightly thing before him, and, with a little gasp, reached into his +pocket and dropped a bill into the Flopper's hat.</p> + +<p>"God bless you!" stammered the Flopper—and the tears sprang swimming to +his eyes.</p> + +<p>The first man passed on with a gruff, "Oh, all right," but he had left +an example behind him that few of his fellow passengers ignored.</p> + +<p>"T'ank you, mum," mumbled the Flopper, as the money dropped into his +hat. "God reward you, sir.... Ah, miss, may you never know a tear.... +'Twas heaven brought you 'ere to-night, lady."</p> + +<p>They passed, following the guide. The Flopper scooped the money into a +pile in his hat, began to tuck it away in some recess of his shirt—when +a hand was thrust suddenly under his nose.<!-- Page 13 --></p> + +<p>"Come on, now, divvy!" snapped a voice in his ear.</p> + +<p>It was the driver of the car, who had dropped from his seat to the +ground. A gleam of hate replaced the tears in the Flopper's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Go to hell!" he snarled through thin lips—and his hand closed +automatically over the cap.</p> + +<p>"Come on, now, I ain't got no time to fool!" prompted the man, with a +leer. "I'm dead onto your lay, and there's a bull comin' along now—half +or him, which?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper's eyes caught the brass buttons of the officer returning on +his beat, and his face was white with an inhuman passion, as, clutching +a portion of what was left in the hat, he lifted his hand from the rest.</p> + +<p>"Thanks!" grinned the chauffeur, snatching at the remainder. "'Tain't +half, but it'll do"—and he hurried across the sidewalk, and disappeared +inside a saloon.</p> + +<p>Oaths, voicing a passion that rocked the Flopper to his soul, purled in +a torrid stream from his lips, and for a moment made him forget the +proximity of the brass buttons. He raised his fist, that still clenched +some of the money, and shook it after the other—and his fist, uplifted +in midair, was caught in a vicious grip—the harness bull was standing +over him.</p> + +<p>"Beat it!" rasped the officer roughly, "or I'll—hullo, what you got +here? Open your hand!"—he gave a sharp twist as he spoke, the +Flopper's<!-- Page 14 --> fingers uncurled, and the money dropped into the policeman's +other hand—held conveniently below the Flopper's.</p> + +<p>"It's mine—gimme it back," whined the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Yours! Yours, is it!" growled the officer. "Where'd you get it? Stole +it, eh? Go on, now, beat it—or I'll run you in! Beat it!"</p> + +<p>With twitching fingers, the Flopper picked up his cap, placed it on his +head and sidled away. Ten yards along, in the shadow of the buildings +again, he looked back—the officer was still standing there, twirling +his stick, one hand just emerging from his pocket. The Flopper's finger +nails scratched along the stone pavement and curved into the palm of his +hand until the skin under the knuckles was bloodless white, and his lips +moved in ugly, whispered words—then, still whispering, he went on +again.</p> + +<p>Down the Bowery he went like a human toad, keeping in the shadows, +keeping his eyes on the ground before him, a glint like a shudder in +their depths—on he went with hopping, lurching jerks, with whispering +lips. Street after street he passed, and then at a corner he turned and +went East—not far, only to the side entrance of the saloon on the +corner known, to those who <i>knew</i>, as the "Roost."</p> + +<p>The door before which he stopped, on a level with the street, might +readily have passed for the entrance to one of the adjoining tenements, +for it was innocent to all appearances of any connection<!-- Page 15 --> with the +unlovely resort of which it was a part—and it was closed.</p> + +<p>The Flopper rang no bell. After a quick glance around him to assure +himself that he was not observed, he reached up for the doorknob, turned +it, and with surprising agility hopped oven the threshold and closed the +door behind him.</p> + +<p>A staircase, making one side of a narrow and dimly lighted hall, from +down whose length came muffled sounds from the barroom, was before him; +and this, without hesitation, the Flopper began to mount, his knee +thumping from step to step, his dangling leg echoing the sound in a +peculiar; quick double thump. He reached the first landing, went along +it, and started up the second flight—but now the thumping sound he made +seemed accentuated intentionally, and upon his face there spread a grin +of malicious humor.</p> + +<p>He halted before the door opposite the head of the second flight of +stairs, opened it, wriggled inside and shut it behind him.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Helena!" he snickered. "Pipe me comin'?"</p> + +<p>The room was a fairly large one, gaudily appointed with cheap +furnishings, one of the Roost's private parlors—a girl on a couch in +the corner had raised herself on her elbow, and her dark eyes were fixed +uncompromisingly upon the Flopper, but she made no answer.</p> + +<p>The Flopper laughed—then a spasm seemed to run through him, a horrible +boneless contortion of limbs and body, a slippery, twitching<!-- Page 16 --> movement, +a repulsive though almost inaudible clicking of rehabilitated +joints—and the Flopper stood erect.</p> + +<p>The girl was on her feet, her eyes flashing.</p> + +<p>"Can that stunt!" she cried angrily. "You give me the shivers! Next time +you throw your fit, you throw it before you come around me, or I'll make +you wish you had—see?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper was swinging legs and arms to restore a normal channel of +circulation.</p> + +<p>"Y'oughter get used to it," said he, with a grin. "Ain't Pale Face Harry +come yet, an' where's the Doc?"</p> + +<p>"Behind the axe under the table," said the girl tartly—and flung +herself back on the couch.</p> + +<p>"T'anks," said the Flopper. "Say, Helena, wot's de new lay de Doc has +got up his sleeve?"</p> + +<p>Helena made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Is yer grouch painin' you so's yer tongue's hurt?" inquired the Flopper +solicitously.</p> + +<p>Still no answer.</p> + +<p>"Well, go to the devil!" said the Flopper politely.</p> + +<p>He resumed the swinging of his arms and legs, but stopped suddenly a +moment later as a step, sounded outside in the hall and he turned +expectantly.</p> + +<p>A young man, thin, emaciated, with gaunt, hollow face, abnormally bright +eyes and sallow skin, entered. He was well, but modestly, dressed; and +he coughed a little now, as though the two flights' climb had overtaxed +him—it was the<!-- Page 17 --> man who had headed the subscription list to the Flopper +half an hour before in front of Black Ike's Auditorium.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Helena!" he greeted, nodding toward the couch. "I shook the +rubber-neck bunch at Ike's, Flopper. That was a peach of a haul, eh, old +pal—the boobs came to it as though they couldn't get enough."</p> + +<p>A sudden and reminiscent scowl clouded the Flopper's face. He stepped to +the table, reached his hand into his shirt, and flung down a single +one-dollar bill and a few coins.</p> + +<p>"Dere's de haul, Harry—help yerself"—his invitation was a snarl.</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry had followed to the table. He looked first at the money, +then at the Flopper—and a tinge of red dyed his cheek. He coughed +before he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Y'ain't going to stall on <i>me</i>, Flopper, are you?" he demanded, in an +ominous monotone.</p> + +<p>"Stall!"—the word came away in a roar too genuine to leave any doubt of +the Flopper's sincerity, or the turbulent state of the Flopper's soul. +"Stall nothin'! De driver held me up fer some of it, an' de cop pinched +de rest."</p> + +<p>"And you the king of Floppers!" breathed Pale Face Harry sadly. "D'ye +hear that, Helena? Come over here and listen. Go ahead, Flopper, tell us +about it."</p> + +<p>Helena rose from the couch and came over to the table.</p> + +<p>"Poor Flopper!" said she sweetly.<!-- Page 18 --></p> + +<p>"Shut up!" snapped the Flopper savagely.</p> + +<p>"Go on," prompted Pale Face Harry. "Go on, Flopper—tell us about it."</p> + +<p>"I told you, ain't I?" growled the Flopper. "De driver called a divvy +wid de cop comin', an I had ter shell—an' wot he left de cop pinched. +Dat's all"—the Flopper's mouth was working again with the rage that +burned within him.</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry, with pointed forefinger, gingerly and facetiously laid +the coins out in a row on the table.</p> + +<p>"And you the king of Floppers!" he murmured softly. "It's a wonder you +didn't let the Salvation Army get the rest away from you on the way +along!"</p> + +<p>Helena laughed—but the Flopper didn't. He stepped close to Pale Face +Harry, and shoved his face within an inch of the other's.</p> + +<p>"You close yer jaw," he snarled, "or I'll make yer map look like wot's +goin' ter happen ter dat cross-eyed snitch of a guy dat did me—him an' +de harness bull, when I—" The Flopper stopped abruptly, and edged away +from Pale Face Harry. "Hullo, Doc," he said meekly. "I didn't hear youse +comin' in."</p> + +<p>A man, fair-haired, broad-shouldered, immaculate in well-tailored +tweeds, reliant in poise, leaned nonchalantly against the door—inside +the room. He was young, not more than twenty-eight, with clean-shaven, +pleasant, open face—a handsome face, marred only to the close observer +by the wrinkles beginning to pucker around his eyes, and<!-- Page 19 --> a slight, +scarcely discernible puffiness in his skin—"Doc" Madison, gentleman +crook and high-class, polished con-man, who had lifted his profession to +an art, was still too young to be indelibly stamped with the hall-marks +of dissipation.</p> + +<p>His gray eyes travelled from one to another, lingered an instant on +Helena, and came back to the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble?" he demanded quietly.</p> + +<p>It was Pale Face Harry who answered him.</p> + +<p>"The Flopper's got it in for a couple of ginks that handed him one—a +bull and a chauffeur on a gape-wagon," he grinned, punctuating his words +with a cough. "The Flopper's got an idea the corpse-preserver's business +is dull, and he's going to help 'em out with two orders and pay for the +flowers himself."</p> + +<p>Doc Madison shook his head and smiled a little grimly.</p> + +<p>"Forget it, Flopper!" he said crisply. "I've something better for you to +do. You fade away, disappear and lay low from this minute. I don't care +what you do when you're resurrected, but from now on the three of you +are dead and buried, and the police go into mourning for at least six +months."</p> + +<p>"What you got for us, Doc?—something nice?"—Helena pushed Pale Face +Harry and the Flopper unceremoniously out of her line of vision as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Yes—the drinks. Cleggy's bringing them," Madison laughed—and opened +the door, as the<!-- Page 20 --> tinkle of glass and a shuffling footstep sounded +without.</p> + +<p>A man, big, hulking, thick-set and slouching, with shifty, cunning +little black eyes and the face of a bruiser, his nose bent over and +almost flattened down on one cheek, entered the room, carrying four +glasses on a tin tray. He set down the tray, and, as he lifted the +glasses from it and placed them on the table, he leered around at the +little group.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" he said, sucking in his breath. "De Doc, an' Helena, an' Pale +Face, an' de Flopper! Gee, dis looks like de real t'ing—dis looks like +biz."</p> + +<p>"It does—fifty-cents' worth—ten for yourself," said Doc Madison +suavely, flipping the coin into the tray. "Now, clear out!"</p> + +<p>"Say"—Cleggy put his forefinger significantly to the side of his +nose—"say, can't youse let a sport in on—"</p> + +<p>"Clear out!" Doc Madison broke in quite as suavely as before—but there +was a sudden glint of steel in the gray eyes as they held the bruiser's, +and Cleggy, hastily picking up the tray, scuffled from the room.</p> + +<p>Madison watched the door close, then he began to pace slowly up and down +the room.</p> + +<p>"Pull the chairs up to the table so we can take things comfortably," he +directed.</p> + +<p>"There ain't but two," grinned Pale Face Harry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, never mind," said Madison.<!-- Page 21 --></p> + +<p>"Slew the couch around and pull that up—Helena and I will sit on the +head of it."</p> + +<p>Still pacing up and down the length of the room, his hands in his +pockets, Doc Madison watched the others as they carried out his +directions; and then, suddenly, as he neared the door, his hand shot +out, wrenched the door open, and, quick as a panther in its spring, he +was in the hall without.</p> + +<p>There was a yell, a scuffle, the rip and crash of rending bannisters, an +instant's silence, then a heavy thud—and then Cleggy's voice from +somewhere below in a choice and fervent flow of profanity.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison re-entered the room, closed the door, dispassionately +arranged a disordered cuff, brushed a few particles of dust from his +sleeves and shoulder, and, this done, started toward the table—and +stopped.</p> + +<p>Helena had swung herself to the table edge, and, glass in hand, dangling +her neatly shod little feet, was smoking a cigarette, her brown hair +with a glint of amber in it, her dark eyes veiled now by their heavy +lashes; on the other side of the table Pale Face Harry coughed, as, with +sleeve rolled back, he was intent on the hypodermic needle he was +pushing into his arm; while the Flopper, his eyes with a dog-like +admiration in them fixed on Madison, stood facing the door, a grotesque, +unpleasant figure, unkempt, unshaven, furtive-faced, his rags hanging +disreputably about him, his trousers with their frayed edges, now that +he stood upright, reaching far above his boot<!-- Page 22 --> tops and flagrantly +exposing his wretched substitutes for socks.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison reached thoughtfully into his pocket, brought out a silver +cigarette case, and carefully selected a cigarette from amongst its +fellows.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Cleggy was right," he said softly, tapping the end of the +cigarette on his thumb nail. "You're the real thing—the real, real +thing."<!-- Page 23 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>—II—</h2> + +<h4>A NEW CULT</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>Doc Madison swung Helena lightly down from the table to the head of the +couch, sat down beside her, one arm circling her waist, and motioned the +Flopper to a chair—then he leaned forward and watched Pale Face Harry +critically, as the latter carefully replaced the shining little +hypodermic in its case.</p> + +<p>"Harry," said he abruptly, jerking his free hand toward the hypodermic, +"could you give up that dope-needle?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, I could—if I wanted to!" asserted Pale Face Harry defiantly.</p> + +<p>"That's good," said Madison cheerfully. "Because you'll have to."</p> + +<p>"Eh?"—Pale Face Harry stared at Doc Madison in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Because you'll have to—by and by," said Madison coolly. "And how about +that cough—can you quit coughing?"</p> + +<p>"When I'm dead—which won't be long," sniffed Pale Face Harry. "D'ye +think I cough because I like it? How'm I going to quit coughing?"<!-- Page 24 --></p> + +<p>"I don't know," admitted Doc Madison, frowning seriously. "I only know +you'll have to."</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry, with jaw dropped, accentuating the gaunt leanness of +his hollow-cheeked, emaciated face, gazed at Doc Madison with a curious +mingling of incredulity and affront—and coughed.</p> + +<p>"Say," he inquired grimly, "what's the answer?"</p> + +<p>Doc Madison took his arm from Helena's waist, pulled a newspaper from +his pocket, spread it out on the table—and his manner changed +suddenly—enthusiasm was in his eyes, his voice, his face.</p> + +<p>"I've steered you three through a few deals," said he impressively, +"that have sized up big enough to keep you out of the raw vaudeville +turn you, Harry, and you, Flopper, are so fond of, and that would have +put Helena here on easy street, if you hadn't blown in all you got about +ten minutes after you got your hands on it—but I've got one here that +sizes up so big you wouldn't be able to spend the money fast enough to +close out your bank account if you did your damnedest! Get that? It's +the greatest cinch that ever came down from the gateway of heaven—and +that's where it came from—heaven. It couldn't have come from anywhere +else—it's too good. And it's new, bran new—it's never had the string +cut or the wrapper taken off. It's got anything that was ever run beaten +by more laps than there are in<!-- Page 25 --> the track, and it's got a purse tied on +to the end of it that's the biggest ever offered since Adam. But you've +got to work for it, and that's what I brought you here for to-night—to +learn your little pieces so's you can say 'em nice and cute when you get +up on the platform before the audience."</p> + +<p>The Flopper's tongue made a greedy circuit of his upper and under lips, +and he hitched his chair closer to the table.</p> + +<p>A flush spread over Pale Face Harry's cheeks, and his eyes, abnormally +bright, grew brighter.</p> + +<p>"You're all right, Doc," he assured Doc Madison anxiously. "You're all +right."</p> + +<p>"U-uu-mm!" cooed Helena excitedly. "Go on, Doc—go on!"</p> + +<p>"Listen," said Doc Madison, his voice lowered a little. "I found this +tucked away as a filler in a corner of the newspaper this evening. It's +headed, 'A New Cult,' with an interrogation mark after it. Now listen, +while I read it:"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><h4>A NEW CULT?</h4> + +<p> Needley, Maine, offers no attraction for aspiring young medical + men. One who tried it recently, and who pulled down his shingle in + disgust after a week, says competition is too strong, as the + village is obsessed with the belief that they have a sort of + faith-healer in their midst to whom is attributed cures of all + descriptions stretching back for a generation or more. The healer, + he adds, who rejoices in the name of the Patriarch and lives in + solitude a mile or so from the village, is something of an anomaly + in himself, being both deaf and dumb. We—</p></div><!-- Page 26 --> + +<p>"But that's all that interests us," said Doc Madison, as he stopped +reading abruptly and lifted his head to scrutinize his companions +quizzically.</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry's eyes had lost their gleam and dulled—he gaped +reproachfully at Doc Madison. Helena's small mouth drooped downward in a +disappointed <i>moue</i>. Only the Flopper evidenced enthusiastic response.</p> + +<p>"Sure!" he chortled. "Sure t'ing! I see. De old geezer'll have a pile of +shekels hid away, an' he lives by his lonesome a mile from de town. We +sneaks down dere, croaks de guy wid de queer monaker, an' beats it wid +de shekels—sure!"</p> + +<p>Doc Madison turned a sad gray eye on the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Flopper," said he pathetically, "your soul, like your bones, runs to +rank realism. No; we don't 'croak de guy'—we cherish him, we nurse him, +we fondle him. He's our one best bet, and we fold him to our breasts +tenderly, and we protect him from all harm and danger and sudden death."</p> + +<p>The Flopper blinked a little helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Mabbe," said the Flopper, "I got de wrong dope. Some of dem words you +read I ain't hip to. Wot's anymaly mean?"</p> + +<p>"Anomaly?"—Doc Madison reached for his glass, tossed off the contents +and set it down. "It means, Flopper, in this particular instance," he +said gravely, "that there shouldn't be any interrogation point after the +heading."<!-- Page 27 --></p> + +<p>Again the Flopper blinked helplessly—and his fingers picked uncertainly +at the stubble on his chin. The other two gazed disconsolately—and +Helena a little pityingly as well—at Doc Madison.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison flung out his arms suddenly.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you all?" he demanded sarcastically. "You look +as though your faces pained you! What's the matter with you? You're +bright enough ordinarily, Helena, and, Harry, you're no dub—what's the +matter with you? Can't you see it—can't you see it! Why, it's sticking +out a mile—it's <i>waiting</i> for us! The whole plant's there and all we've +got to do is get steam under the boilers. We'll have 'em coming for the +cure from every State in the Union, and begging us to let them throw +their diamond tiaras at us for a look-in at the shrine. Don't you see +it—can't you get it—can't you <i>get</i> it!"</p> + +<p>Helena bent suddenly over Doc Madison's shoulder, her eyes opening wide +with dawning comprehension.</p> + +<p>"The cure?" she breathed.</p> + +<p>"Sure—the cure," said Doc Madison earnestly. "The new cult—that's us. +Get the people talking, show 'em something, and you'll have to put up +fences and 'keep off the grass' signs to stop the lame and the halt and +the blind and the neurasthenics from crowding and suffocating to death +for want of air. We'll start a shrine down there that'll be a winner, +and the railroads<!-- Page 28 --> will be running excursion-rate pilgrimages inside of +two months."</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry's chair creaked, as, like the Flopper, he now crowded it +in toward the table.</p> + +<p>"I get you!" said he feverishly. "I get you! I've read about them +shrines—only you gotter have churches, and a carload of crutches, and +that sort of thing laying around."</p> + +<p>Doc Madison smiled pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you've got me, Harry—only we'll do the stage setting a little +differently. Mostly what is required is—faith. Get them going on that, +and everybody that's sick or near-sick in this great United States, +that's got the swellest collection of boobs and millionaires on earth, +will swarm thitherward like bees—there won't be any one left in the +sanatoriums throughout the length of this broad land of freedom but the +bell boys and the elevator men. Get them going, and all we've got to do +is look out we don't let anything get by us in the crush—a snowball +rolling down hill will size up like a plugged nickel alongside of a +twenty-dollar gold piece when it gets to the bottom, compared with what +we start rolling."</p> + +<p>"I've got you, too," said Helena. "But I don't see where the faith is +coming from, or how you're going to get them coming. You've got to show +them—you said so yourself—even the boobs. How are you going to do +that?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Doc Madison placidly, "we'll start the show with—a +miracle. I haven't<!-- Page 29 --> thought of anything more effective than that so +far."</p> + +<p>"A what?" inquired Pale Face Harry, with a grin.</p> + +<p>"A miracle," repeated Doc Madison imperturbably. "A miracle—with the +Flopper here in the star rôle. The Flopper goes down there all tied up +in knots, the high priest, alias the deaf and dumb healer, alias the +Patriarch, lays his soothing hands upon him, the Flopper uncoils into +something that looks like a human being—and the trumpets blow, the band +plays, and the box office opens for receipts."</p> + +<p>Helena slid from her seat, and, with hands on the edge of the table, +advanced her piquant little face close to Doc Madison's, staring at him, +breathing hard.</p> + +<p>"Say that again," she gasped. "Say that again—say it just once more."</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry's hand, trembling visibly with emotion, was thrust out +across the table.</p> + +<p>"Put it there, Doc," he whispered hoarsely.</p> + +<p>The Flopper, practical, earnestly so, lifted his right arm, wriggled it +a little and began to twist it around, as though it were on a pivot at +the elbow, preparatory to drawing it in, a crippled thing, toward his +chin.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison reached out hurriedly and stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Here, that'll do, Flopper," he said quietly. "You don't need any +rehearsal to hold your job—you're<!-- Page 30 --> down for the number and your check's +written out."</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" said the Flopper to the universe. "I can smell de pine woods +of Maine in me nostrils now. When does I beat it, Doc—to-morrer?"</p> + +<p>Doc Madison laughed.</p> + +<p>"No, Flopper, not to-morrow—nor for several to-morrows—not till the +bill-posters get through, and the stage is dark, and you can hear a pin +drop in the house. I don't want you camping out and catching cold and +missing any of the luxuries you're accustomed to, so I'll start along +ahead in a day or so myself and see what kind of accommodations I can +secure."</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" said the Flopper again. "An' to think of me wastin' me +talent on rubber-neck fleets!"</p> + +<p>A puzzled little frown puckered Helena's forehead.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking about the deaf and dumb man," she said slowly. "How +about him, when we pull this off—will he stand for it—and what'll he +do?"</p> + +<p>"Aw!" said Pale Face Harry impatiently. "He don't count! He'll have bats +in his belfry anyway, and if he ain't he'll go off his chump for fair +getting stuck on himself when he sees the stunt he'll think he's done. +He'll be looking for the wings between his shoulder blades, and hunting +for the halo around his head."</p> + +<p>"Harry is waking up," observed Doc Madison<!-- Page 31 --> affably. "That's about the +idea, Helena. I haven't seen the Patriarch yet, but I don't imagine from +his description that it'll be very hard to make him believe in himself. +He doesn't stand for anything—we don't deal him any cards—he's just +the kitty that circles around with the jackpots while we annex the +chips."</p> + +<p>Doc Madison reached into his vest pocket, took out a penknife whose +handle was gold-chased, opened it, and very carefully cut the article he +had read from the paper.</p> + +<p>"Flopper," said he, "you've heard of gold bonds, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper's eyes gleamed an eloquent response.</p> + +<p>"Only you've never had any, eh?" supplied Doc Madison.</p> + +<p>"Where'd I get 'em?" inquired the Flopper, with some bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Right here," smiled Doc Madison, handing him the clipping. "Here's a +trainload and a bank vault full of them combined. Put it away, Flopper, +and don't lose it. Lose anything you've got first—lose your life. It's +worth a private car to you with a buffet full of fizz, and Sambo to wait +on you for the rest of your life. Get that? Don't lose it!"</p> + +<p>The Flopper tucked the clipping into the mysterious recess of his shirt.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said earnestly, "if you say so, Doc, it'll be here when dey +plant me."</p> + +<p>"All right, Flopper," nodded Doc Madison.<!-- Page 32 --> "And now let's get down to +cases. I've been able to pay my club dues lately, and there's money +enough on deck to buy the costumes and put the show on the road. I start +for Needley as soon as I can get away. When I'm ready for the support, +you three will hear from me—and in the meantime you lay low. Nothing +doing—understand? You'll get all the lime-light you want before you're +through, and it's just as well not to show up so familiar when they +throw the spot on you that even the school kids will know the date of +your birth, and the population will start in squabbling over the choice +of reserved niches for you in the Hall of Fame. See?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper, Pale Face Harry and Helena nodded their heads with one +accord.</p> + +<p>"Give us the whole lay, Doc," urged Pale Face Harry. "And give it to us +quick."</p> + +<p>"Me mouth's waterin'," observed the Flopper, licking his lips again.</p> + +<p>Helena lighted another cigarette, and swung herself back to her perch on +the head of the couch.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison surveyed the three with mingled admiration and delight.</p> + +<p>"The world is ours!" he murmured softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hurry up and give us the rest of it," purred Helena. "We know we're +an all-star cast, all right."</p> + +<p>"Very good," said Doc Madison—and laughed. "Well then, the order of +your stage cues will depend on circumstances and what turns<!-- Page 33 --> up down +there, but we'll start with the Flopper now. First of all, Flopper, +you've got to have a name. What's your real name—what did they decorate +you with at the baptismal font back in the dark ages?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper scrubbed at his very dirty chin with a very dirty thumb and +forefinger.</p> + +<p>"I dunno," said the Flopper anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind," said Doc Madison reassuringly. "Maybe you are +blessed above most people—you can pick one out for yourself. What'll it +be?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper's thumb and forefinger scratched desperately for a moment, +then his face lighted with inspiration.</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" said he excitedly. "I got it—Jimmy de Squirm."</p> + +<p>Doc Madison shook his head gravely.</p> + +<p>"No, Flopper, I'm afraid not," he said gently. "That's another weak +point in your interpretation of the rôle, that I'll come to in a minute. +We'll give you an Irish name by way of charity—it'll help to make your +classical English sound like brogue. We'll call you Coogan—Michael +Coogan—that lets you off with plain Mike in times of stress."</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" said the Flopper, with perfect complacence.</p> + +<p>"Glad it pleases you," smiled Doc Madison, "Here's your lay, then. +You've got to remember that you were born crooked and—"</p> + +<p>Helena giggled.<!-- Page 34 --></p> + +<p>"I didn't mean it"—Doc Madison's gray eyes twinkled. "You are waking +up, too, Helena. I mean, Flopper, you've got to remember that you were +born twisted up into the same shape you are in when you hit Needley. You +come from—let's see—we'll have to have a big city where the next door +neighbors pass each other with a vacant stare. Ever been in Chicago?"</p> + +<p>"Naw! Wot fer?" said the Flopper, with withering spontaneity. "Noo Yoik +fer mine."</p> + +<p>"Well, all right—New York it is, then," agreed Doc Madison. "You're +poor, but respectable—and that brings us to the other point. Before you +go down there, Helena's going to start a little night-school with a +grammar, and teach you to paddle along the fringe of the great American +language so's you won't fall in and get wet all over every time you open +your mouth."</p> + +<p>"My!" exclaimed Helena. "Won't that be nice!"</p> + +<p>"I hope so," said Doc Madison drily. "And don't run away with the idea +that I'm joking about this—that goes. I don't expect to make a +silver-tongued orator out of you, Flopper, and perhaps not even a +purist—but I hope to eradicate a few minor touches of Bad Land +vernacular from your vocabulary."</p> + +<p>"I've gotcher—swipe me!" grinned the Flopper. "Me at school! Say, +wouldn't that put a smile on de maps of de harness bulls, an' de dips, +an' de lags doin' spaces up de river!"</p> + +<p>"Quite so," admitted Doc Madison pleasantly.<!-- Page 35 --></p> + +<p>"You won't laugh when I get through with you," remarked Helena, her eyes +on the curl of smoke from her cigarette.</p> + +<p>"There's just one more thing," went on Doc Madison, "and I'm through +with you, Flopper. Don't come down there looking like a skate—that's +too raw. Get new clothes and a shave—and keep shaved. And from the +minute you buy your ticket, you keep your bones, or whatever a +beneficent nature has given you in place of them, out of joint—see?"</p> + +<p>"I'm hip," declared the Flopper—and the dog-like admiration for Doc +Madison burned in his eyes. "Say, Doc, youse are de—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Flopper," Madison cut in brightly. "It's getting late. Now, +Harry, about you. You've got a name, I believe. Evans, isn't it? +Yes—well, that will do. Now, don't kill yourself at it, but the more +you work your dope needle overtime before you start, and the harder you +cough when you first land there the better. We've got to have variety, +you know. You're a physical wreck with the folks back home sending the +casket and trimmings after you on the next train in care of the station +agent."</p> + +<p>"I guess," coughed Pale Face Harry, with a sickly smile, "I look the +part."</p> + +<p>"You certainly do," said Helena cheerfully, beating a tattoo with her +heels on the end of the couch.</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry scowled.</p> + +<p>"I ain't no artist with the paint," he sniffed.<!-- Page 36 --></p> + +<p>"I don't paint," said Helena sweetly. "It's rouge."</p> + +<p>"Are you through?" inquired Doc Madison patiently. "Because, if you are, +I'll go on. When the train whistles for Needley, Harry, you put the soft +pedal on the dope—that ought to help some. And then you begin to taper +that cough off and become a cure—that's all."</p> + +<p>"I ain't like the Flopper," said Pale Face Harry ruefully. "I told you +once I can't stop the hack, and I ask you again how'm I going to?"</p> + +<p>"Have faith in the Patriarch," suggested Helena innocently.</p> + +<p>"You close your trap!" exclaimed Pale Face Harry savagely; then, to +Madison: "Go on, Doc—it's up to you."</p> + +<p>"No," said Doc Madison coolly, "it's up to you. You've got to try, and +if you can't stop altogether you can make yourself scarce when you feel +the fit coming on—you won't have to climb up on the grandstand and +cough in people's faces, will you?"</p> + +<p>"He might carry a screen around with him and cough behind that," +volunteered Helena. "That's enough about the Flopper and Pale Face—what +about muh? Where do I get off?"</p> + +<p>"You?" said Doc Madison calmly. "Oh, you're a moral neurasthenic."</p> + +<p>"And what's that when it's at home?" demanded Helena sharply.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison threw out his hands in a comically helpless, impotent +gesture.<!-- Page 37 --></p> + +<p>"It's what we need to keep up the standard of variety," he said. "We're +playing to the masses. Don't you like the rôle, Helena—it's the leading +woman's."</p> + +<p>"What do I do?" countered Helena non-committingly.</p> + +<p>"Do?" echoed Doc Madison. "Why, you go down there like a whole parade +and a gorgeous pageant rolled into one, in feathers and paint and +diamond boulders in your ears—and you come out of it in a gingham apron +and coy sunbonnet as sweet sixteen."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Helena—and her eyes were on the curl of smoke from her +cigarette again.</p> + +<p>"Say," said Pale Face Harry suddenly, evidently still worried about his +cough, "we ain't going to have no easy cinch of this."</p> + +<p>"No," said Doc Madison, with a grim smile; "you're not! It's going to be +the hardest work any of you have ever done—you've got to lead decent +lives for awhile."</p> + +<p>"Sure—dat's right," said the loyal Flopper; "but we stands fer anyt'ing +dat de Doc says—an' dat goes!"</p> + +<p>"It'll come hard on some of us," remarked Pale Face Harry, with a sly +glance at Helena, which met with contemptuous silence.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison leaned back, felt carefully at his carefully adjusted +tie—and smiled engagingly.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked. "Can you see them coming?"<!-- Page 38 --></p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry stared at him with a far-away expression in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"When we get through with this, if I ain't handed in my checks before," +he said dreamily, "it's mine for a brownstone on the Avenue, and one of +them life-size landscapes with a shack on it for the season down to Pa'm +Beach that they call country cottages. I'll dress the ginks that scrub +the horses down in solid gold braid, and put the corpse of chamber +ladies in Irish lace—I bust into society, marry a duke's one and only, +and swipe her coronet for my manly brow. Did you ask me anything, Doc?"</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" said the Flopper. "Me in me private Pullman in a plush seat +an' anudder to put me feet in, an' me thumbs in de armholes of me vest. +I wears a high polished lid an' a red tie, an' scatters simoleans outer +de window in me travels to the gazaboes on de platforms as I pass—an' +den I joins Tammany Hall so's I can stick me fingers to me nose every +time I sees a cop."</p> + +<p>"Flopper," said Doc Madison in an awed voice, "the honor is all mine."</p> + +<p>Helena went off into a peal of rippling, silvery, contagious laughter, +and her little heels again beat an exuberant tattoo on the end of the +couch.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" invited Doc Madison, smiling at her.</p> + +<p>"I'm seeing them coming," said Helena—and one heel went through the +cretonne upholstery of the couch.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Doc Madison—and from the inside pocket of his coat he +pulled out a package<!-- Page 39 --> of crisp, new, yellow-backed bills. "You +understand that down there none of you ever heard of each other or of me +before, and you drop the 'doc'—bury it! My name is John G. Madison—G. +for Garfield." His fingers passed deftly over the edges of the bills. He +pushed a little pile toward the Hopper, another toward Pale Face Harry, +and tucked the remainder into his coat pocket again. "That'll do for +expenses," he said. "And now, if you understand everything, principally +that you're to go to church Sundays till you hear from me, and you're +quite satisfied with the lay, we'll adjourn, <i>sine die</i>, to Needley."</p> + +<p>Helena was holding out a very dainty hand, with pink, wiggling fingers.</p> + +<p>"I'll need, oh, ever so much more than they will," she declared, with a +bewitching pout. "And, please, I'm waiting very patiently."</p> + +<p>Doc Madison laughed.</p> + +<p>"By and by, Helena," he said, patting her hand. "Well, Flopper, well, +Harry—what do you say?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper pushed back his chair and stood up hesitantly like a man +unexpectedly called upon for an after-dinner speech. He stood there +awkwardly a moment gazing at Doc Madison, his tongue slowly circling his +lips; then, with a gulp, as though words to express his feelings were +utterly beyond him, he turned and started for the door.</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry, as he rose, shoved out his hand.<!-- Page 40 --></p> + +<p>"I don't deserve my luck to be in on this," he said modestly. "Only, +Doc, push it along on the high gear, will you—I ain't going to be able +to sleep thinking about it." He looked at Helena a little +undecidedly—and compromised on brevity. "'Night, Helena," he flung out.</p> + +<p>"Oh, good-night, Harry," she smiled.</p> + +<p>The Flopper turned at the door and came back a few steps into the room.</p> + +<p>"Say, Doc," he said, blinking furiously, "youse can wipe yer feet on me +any time youse like—dat's wot!"</p> + +<p>"All right, Flopper," said Doc Madison gravely. "When you've joined +Tammany Hall—good-night." He followed across the room, and from the +doorway watched the two descend the stairs. "Good-night," he said again, +then closed the door and came back into the room. "Well, Helena?" he +remarked tentatively.</p> + +<p>"Well—Garfield?"—Helena clasped her hands around one knee and rocked +gently.</p> + +<p>"Don't be familiar, Helena," Doc Madison chuckled. "Is that all you've +got to say?"</p> + +<p>"I'm busy thinking about The Great American Play," she said pertly. +"There's one thing you forgot."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he asked, still smiling.</p> + +<p>"The curtain on the last act," she said. "The getaway."</p> + +<p>Doc Madison shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Nothing doing!" he returned. "There's no getaway. It's safe—so safe +that there's nothing<!-- Page 41 --> to it. We don't guarantee anything, and there's no +entrance fee to the pavilion—all contributions are strictly voluntary."</p> + +<p>"That's all right," said Helena. "But of course we can't really cure +them. We can get them going hard enough to make them think they are for +awhile, but after they've thrown away their crutches and got back +home—what then?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what then?" inquired Doc Madison easily.</p> + +<p>"They'll yell 'fake!' and swear out warrants," said Helena, her dark +eyes studying Doc Madison.</p> + +<p>"Not according to statistics," replied Doc Madison, and his lips +twitched quizzically at the corners. "According to statistics they'll +buy another crutch and come back to buck the tiger again. Say, Helena, +to-morrow, you go up to the public library and read up on +shrines—they've been running since the ark—and they're running still. +You never heard any howl about them, did you? What's the answer to those +cures?"</p> + +<p>"That's different," said Helena. "That's religion, and they've got +relics and things."</p> + +<p>"It's faith," said Doc Madison, "and it doesn't matter what the basis of +it is. Faith, Helena, <i>faith</i>—get that? And we're going to imbue them +with a faith that'll set them crazy and send them into hysterics. And +talk about relics! Haven't we got one? Look at the Patriarch! Can't you +see the whole town yelling 'I told you so!' and swopping testimonials +hard enough to<!-- Page 42 --> crowd the print down so fine, if you tried to get it all +into the papers, that you'd have to use a magnifying glass to read it, +once we've pulled off the miracle? Don't you worry about the getaway. If +there's any sign of anything like that, you and I, Helena, will be +taking moonlight rides in the gondolas of Venice long before it breaks."</p> + +<p>Helena choked—and began to laugh deliciously.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison stared at her for a moment whimsically—then he, too, burst +into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" he gurgled. "It's rich, isn't it?" And sweeping Helena off +the couch and into his arms, he began to dance around and around the +table. "Ring-around-a-rosy!" he cried. "We haven't done so bad in the +misty past, but here's where we cross to the enchanted shore and play on +jewelled harps with golden strings and—"</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" gasped Helena, laughing and breathless, as at last she +pulled herself away.</p> + +<p>"No," panted Doc Madison. "There's a table I've reserved up at the +Rivoli that's waiting for us now. We're about to part for days and days, +lady mine, that's the tough luck of it, but we'll make a night of it +to-night anyway—what?"</p> + +<p>"You bet!" said Helena, doing a cake-walk towards the door. "Come on!"<!-- Page 43 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>—III—</h2> + +<h4>NEEDLEY</h4> +<br/> + +<p>"Needley?"</p> + +<p>It wasn't wholly an interrogation—it seemed to Madison that there was +even sympathy in the parlor-car conductor's voice, as the other took his +seat check.</p> + +<p>"Health," said Madison meekly. "Perfect rest and quiet—been overdoing +it, you know."</p> + +<p>"<i>Needley</i>!"—the train conductor of the Bar Harbor Express, collecting +the transportation, threw the word at Madison as though it were a +personal affront.</p> + +<p>The tone seemed to demand an apology from Madison—and Madison +apologized.</p> + +<p>"Health," he said apologetically. "Perfect rest and quiet—been +overdoing it, you know."</p> + +<p>"We're five minutes late now," grunted the conductor uncompromisingly +and, to Madison, quite irrelevantly, as he passed on down the aisle.</p> + +<p>Somehow, this inspired Madison to consult his timetable. He drew it from +his pocket, ran his eye down the long list of stations—and stopped at +"Needley." Needley had an asterisk after it. By consulting a block of +small type at the<!-- Page 44 --> bottom of the page, he found a corresponding asterisk +with the words: "Flag station. Stops only on signal, or to discharge +eastbound passengers from Portland."</p> + +<p>John Garfield Madison went into the smoking compartment of the car for a +cigar—several cigars—until Needley was reached some two hours later, +when the dusky attendant, as he pocketed Madison's dollar, set down his +little rubber-topped footstool with a flourish on a desolate and +forbidding-looking platform.</p> + +<p>Madison was neither surprised nor dismayed—the parlor-car conductor, +the train conductor and the timetable had in no way attempted to deceive +him—he was only cold. He turned up his coat collar—and blew on his +kid-gloved fingers.</p> + +<p>As far as he could see everything was white with a thin layer of +snow—he kicked some of it off his toes onto the unshovelled platform. +The landscape was disconsolately void of even a vestige of life, there +was not a sign of habitation—just woods of bare trees, except the firs, +whose green seemed out of place.</p> + +<p>"I have arrived," said John Garfield Madison to himself, "at a +cemetery."</p> + +<p>There was a very small station, and through the window he caught sight +of a harassed-faced, red-haired man. There was a thump, another one, a +very vicious one—and Madison stirred uneasily—the train, with its five +minutes' delinquency hanging over it, was already moving out, as his<!-- Page 45 --> +trunks, from the baggage car ahead, shot unceremoniously to the +platform. Madison watched a man, the sole occupant of the platform apart +from himself, save the trunks from rolling under the wheels of the +train; then his eyes fastened on a rickety, two-seated wagon, drawn by a +horse that at first glance appeared to earn all it got.</p> + +<p>The train left the platform—and left quite as uninviting a perspective +on the other side of the track as had previously greeted Madison's +restricted view. But now the man who had salvaged his baggage came down +the platform toward him. Madison inspected the approaching figure with +interest. The man ambled along without haste, his jaws wagging +industriously upon his tobacco, his iron-gray chin whiskers, from the +wagging, flapping like a burgee in a breeze. He wore a round fur cap, +quite bare of fur at the edges where the pelt showed shiny, and a red +woollen tippet was tied round his neck and knotted at the back with the +ends dangling down over his coat. The coat itself, a long one of some +fuzzy material, with huge side pockets into which the man's hands were +plunged, reached to the cavernous tops of jackboots where the nether +ends of his trousers were stowed away.</p> + +<p>The man halted before Madison, and, reaching a mittened hand under his +chin, reflectively lifted his whiskers to an acute angle, while his blue +eyes over the rims of steel-bowed spectacles wandered from Madison to +Madison's dress-suit case and back to Madison again.<!-- Page 46 --></p> + +<p>"Be you goin' to git off here?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>Madison smiled at him engagingly.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I wouldn't care to have it known, but if you can keep +a secret—"</p> + +<p>"Hee-hee!" tittered the other. "Now that's right smart, that be. Waren't +expectin' nobody to meet you, was you? I ain't heerd of none of the +folks lookin' for visitors."</p> + +<p>"No," said Madison. "But there's a hotel in the town, isn't there?"</p> + +<p>"Two of 'em," said the other. "The Waalderf an' the Congress, but the +Waalderf ain't done a sight of business since we got pro'bition in the +State an' has kinder got run down. I reckon the Congress'll suit you +best if you ain't against payin' a mite more, which I reckon you ain't +for I see you come down in the parler car."</p> + +<p>"And what," asked Madison, "does the Congress charge?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said the other, "ordinary, it's a dollar a day or five dollars a +week, but this bein' off season an' nobody there, 'twouldn't surprise me +if Walt'ud kind of shade the price for you—Waalderf's three an' a half +a week. Them your duds up the platform? I'll drive you over for forty +cents. What was it you said your name was?"</p> + +<p>"Forty cents is a most disinterested offer, and I accept it heartily," +said Madison affably. "And my name's Madison—John Garfield Madison, +from New York."</p> + +<p>"Mine's Higgins," volunteered the other. "Hiram Higgins, an' I'm +postmaster an' town<!-- Page 47 --> constable of Needley. An' now, Mr. Madison, I +reckon we'll just get these effects of your'n onto the wagon an' move +along—folks'll be gettin' kinder rambunctious for their mail."</p> + +<p>Hiram Higgins backed the democrat around, roped the baggage onto the +tail-board, picked up the hungry-looking mail-bag from where the mail +clerk had slung it from the car to the platform, threw it down in front +of the dashboard, and got in after it. Madison clambered into the back +seat, and they bumped off along the road.</p> + +<p>"Had a mite of snow night before last," observed Mr. Higgins, pointing +it out with his whip, as he settled himself comfortably. "Kinder +reckoned we'd got rid of it for good till next fall till this come +along, but you can't never tell. What was it you said brought you down +here, Mr. Madison?"</p> + +<p>Madison smiled.</p> + +<p>"Rest and quiet—complete change," he said. "Nervous breakdown, +according to the doctors—that's what they always call it, you know, +when they can't find any other name for it. I've been overdoing it, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"Be that so!" returned Mr. Higgins sympathetically. "I want to know! +Well, now, that's too bad! Lookin' for quiet, be you? Well, I reckon +mabbe folks don't scurry around here quite so lively as they do in some +of the bigger towns like Noo York, but there's a tolerable lot goin' on +most every week, church festivals, an' spellin' bees, an' such. Folks +here is right hospitable, but<!-- Page 48 --> you ain't in no way obliged to join in if +you don't feel up to it. I'll explain matters to 'em, an'—" Hiram +Higgins stopped, excitedly gathered reins and whip into one hand, and +with the other smote his knee a resounding whack. "Well, I swan!" he +exclaimed. "An' I never thought of it until this minute! I reckon you've +come to just the right place, and just as soon as you get settled you go +right out an' see the Patriarch—you won't need no more doctor, an' +folks up your way won't know when you go back."</p> + +<p>"The Patriarch?" inquired Madison, with a puzzled air. "Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said Mr. Higgins, "he's—he's the Patriarch. Been curin' us folks +around here longer'n any one can remember—just does it by faith, too."</p> + +<p>Madison shook his head slowly.</p> + +<p>"I might just as well be frank with you, Mr. Higgins," he said. "I've +never taken much stock in faith cure and that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"Mabbe," suggested Mr. Higgins deeply, "you ain't had much experience."</p> + +<p>"No," confessed Madison reflectively; "I haven't—I haven't had any."</p> + +<p>"Well then, you just wait an' see," said Mr. Higgins, waving his +mittened hand as though the whole matter were conclusively settled. "You +just wait an' see."</p> + +<p>"But I'm afraid I don't quite understand," prodded Madison innocently. +"What kind of cures does he perform?"<!-- Page 49 --></p> + +<p>They turned a right-angled bend in the road, disclosing a straggling +hamlet in a hollow below, and, farther away in the distance, a sweep of +ocean.</p> + +<p>"Most any kind," said Mr. Higgins. "There's Needley now. All you've got +to do is ask the first person you see about him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Madison, "but take yourself, for instance. Did this +Patriarch ever do anything for you?"</p> + +<p>"He did," said Mr. Higgins impressively. "An' 'twasn't but last week. +I'm glad you asked me. For two nights I couldn't sleep. Had the earache +powerful. Poured hot oil an' laud'num into it, an' kept a hot brick +rolled up in flannel against it, but didn't do no good. Then Mrs. +Higgins says, 'Hiram, why in the land's sake don't you go out an' see +the Patriarch?' An' I hitched right up, an' every step that horse took I +could feel it gettin' better, an' I wasn't five minutes with the +Patriarch before I was cured, an' I ain't had a twinge since."</p> + +<p>"It certainly looks as though there were something in that," admitted +Madison cautiously.</p> + +<p>Hiram Higgins smiled a world of tolerance.</p> + +<p>"'Tain't worth mentionin' alongside some of the things he's done," he +said deprecatingly. "You'll hear about 'em fast enough."</p> + +<p>"What's the local doctor say about it?" asked Madison.</p> + +<p>"There ain't enough pickin's to keep a doctor here, though some of 'em's +tried," chuckled Mr.<!-- Page 50 --> Higgins. "Have to have 'em for <i>some</i> things, of +course—an' then he drives over from Barton's Mills, seven miles from +here."</p> + +<p>"And do <i>all</i> the people in Needley believe in the +Patriarch?"—Madison's voice was full of grave interest.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Higgins, "to be plumb downright honest with you, they +don't. Folks as was born here an' are old inhabitants do, but the +Holmes, bein' newcomers, is kinder set in their ways. They come down +here eight years ago last August with new-fangled notions, which they +ain't got rid of yet. You can see the consequences for yourself—got a +little boy, twelve year old, walking around lame on a crutch—an' I +reckon he always will. Doctor looks at him every time he comes over from +Barton's Mills, but it don't do no good. Folks tried to get the Holmes +to take him out to the Patriarch's till they got discouraged. 'Pears old +man Holmes kinder got around to a common sense view of it, but the women +folks say Mrs. Holmes is stubborner than all git-out, an' that old man +Holmes' voice ain't loud enough to be heerd when she gets goin'. 'Tain't +but fair to mention 'em, as I dunno of any one else that's an +exception." Mr. Higgins pointed ahead with his whip. "See them woods +over there beyond the town?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Madison.</p> + +<p>"That's where the Patriarch lives," said Mr. Higgins. "On the other side +of 'em, down by the seashore. An' here we be most home.<!-- Page 51 --> Folks'll be +glad to see you, Mr. Madison, and now you're here I hope you'll make a +real smart stay—we'll try to make you feel to home."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Madison cordially. "I haven't any idea, of course, how +long I'll be here—it all depends on circumstances."</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Higgins; "I don't suppose you have. Anyway, I hope you'll +take a notion to go out an' see what the Patriarch can do for you. An' +now you ain't told me yet which hotel you're goin' to."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Madison gravely. "Well, since you recommend it, I guess we'd +better make it the Congress."<!-- Page 52 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>—IV—</h2> + +<h4>THE PATRIARCH</h4> +<br/> + +<p>"Bet you a cookie," shrilled Hiram Higgins, in what he meant to be a +breathless whisper, "that there's where he's goin' now—only he don't +want us to know he's give in."</p> + +<p>"Shet your fool mouth, Hiram!" cautioned Walt Perkins, the proprietor of +the Congress Hotel. "He kin hear you."</p> + +<p>"Get out!" retorted Mr. Higgins. "No, he can't neither. He ain't feelin' +no ways perky, any one can see that, an' I'm tickled most to pieces that +he's come 'round—I've took up with him consid'rable, I have. +Patriarch'll just make a new-born critter outer him—you watch through +the window where he goes. Bet you a quarter that's what he's up to!"</p> + +<p>John Garfield Madison, outside on the veranda of the Congress Hotel, +smiled at the words, as he lighted his cigar and turned up his coat +collar. He stepped off the veranda, crossed the little lawn to the +village street, and began to saunter nonchalantly and indifferently +oceanwards. He did not look around—he had no desire to bring +consternation to the massed faces of the leading citizens<!-- Page 53 --> flattened +against the window panes—but he chuckled inwardly as he pictured them. +There would be Hiram Higgins, postmaster and town constable, Walt +Perkins, hotel man and town moderator, Lem Hodges, selectman, assessor +and overseer of the poor, Nathan Elmes, likewise selectman, assessor and +overseer of the poor, and Cale Rodgers, school committee-man and +proprietor of the general store.</p> + +<p>Madison sauntered slowly along.</p> + +<p>"I have arrived," he said, "not at a cemetery, but at an El Dorado and a +land flowing with milk and honey."</p> + +<p>There was a humorous pucker around the corners of Madison's eyes, as he +reviewed his two days' sojourn in Needley—spent mostly in the "office" +of the Congress Hotel beside the stove with his feet up on the wood-box. +He had never lacked company—the office stove and the spitbox filled +with sawdust was the admitted rendezvous of the chosen spirits who were +still gazing after him from the window. Morning, afternoon and evening +they congregated there, and he had been promptly admitted to membership +in the select circle. At each sitting they had discussed the spring +planting and the weather, and then inevitably, led by Hiram Higgins, had +resolved themselves into an "experience" meeting on the Patriarch—he, +Madison, as a minority leader of one, grudgingly conceding an occasional +point. The sessions had invariably ended the same way—Hiram Higgins, +with the back of his hand<!-- Page 54 --> underneath his chin, would stroke earnestly +at his chin-whiskers, and remark:</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Mr. Madison, 'twon't do you a mite of harm to go out there +an' see for yourself. We've kinder got to look on you as one of us, an' +there ain't no use in you sufferin' around with what ails you when there +ain't no need of it."</p> + +<p>Madison's replies had been equally void of versatility—he would shake +his head doubtfully, while his cigar-case circulated around the group.</p> + +<p>Madison sniffed luxuriously at his thoroughbred Havana. He had passed +out of sight of the hotel window now, and he swung into a brisk walk. It +was a mile to the Patriarch's by a wagon track through the woods, that +led off from the road to the left just across the bridge. He had not +needed to ask directions. With magnificent inadvertence Hiram Higgins +had mentioned the exact way to reach the Patriarch's a dozen times, if +he had once. Also, by now, Madison had learned all that the town knew +about the Patriarch—which after all, he reflected with some +satisfaction, wasn't much. The Patriarch was over eighty years of age, +and he had come, deaf and dumb, to Needley sixty years ago—nobody knew +from where, nor his previous history, nor his name. They had called him +the Hermit at first, for immediately on his arrival he had gone out to +the shore of the ocean, away from the village, and built a crude hut +there for himself—which, in the after years, he had made into a more +pretentious<!-- Page 55 --> dwelling. The cures had come "kinder gradual-like an' took +the folks mabbe forty years to get around to believin' in him real +serious," as Hiram Higgins put it; and then, as the Hermit grew old, and +the local reverence for him had become more deep-seated, they had +changed his name to the Patriarch. That was about all—but it seemed to +suit Madison, for his smile broadened.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said he to himself, as he stepped onto the bridge to cross +the little river, "if I'm not dreaming—this is like being let loose in +the U.S. Treasury with nobody looking!"</p> + +<p>"Hullo, mister!" piped a young voice suddenly out of the dusk.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" responded Madison mechanically—and turned to watch a small +figure, going in the opposite direction, thump by him on a crutch. +Madison stopped and stared after the cripple—and removed his cigar very +slowly from his lips. "That's that Holmes boy," he muttered. "I don't +know as he'd look well on the platform when the excursion trains get to +running. Wonder if I can't get a job for his father somewhere about a +thousand miles from here and have the family move!"</p> + +<p>The cripple disappeared down the road, and Madison, with a sort of +speculative flip to the ash of his cigar, resumed his way. Just across +the bridge he found the wagon track, and turned into it. It ran through +a thick wood of fir and spruce, and here, apart from now being able to +see but little before him—he had elected to<!-- Page 56 --> "steal" away in the +darkness after supper—he found the going far from good.</p> + +<p>Half curiously, half whimsically, he tried to visualize the Patriarch +from the word pictures that had been painted around the stove in the +hotel office. The man would be old—of course. And to have lived alone +for sixty years, to have shunned human companionship he must have been +either mildly or violently insane to begin with, which would account for +his belief in himself as a healer—he would unquestionably, in some form +or other, "have bats in his belfry," as Pale Face Harry had put it.</p> + +<p>Madison's brows contracted as he went along. A man living by himself +under such conditions, with no incentive for the care of his person, not +even the pride engendered by the association of others, erudite as the +standard might be in his vicinity, was apt to grow very shortly into a +somewhat sorry spectacle. Give him sixty years of this and add an +unbalanced mind, and—Madison did not like the picture that now rose up +suddenly before him—a creature, bent, vapid of face, deaf and dumb, +frowsy of dress, and a world removed from the thought of a morning bath. +It might be picturesque in a way—but it wasn't a way Madison liked. +Somehow, he'd have to jerk the old chap out of his rut and get him +rigged up a little more becomingly, before the trusting public, simple +as they were, were invited down to see the exhibit. Madison's dramatic +instinct, which was developed to a keen sense of what the public<!-- Page 57 --> craved +for, rebelled against any <i>faux pas</i> in the scenic effects. He fell to +designing a costume that would more appropriately expound the rôle.</p> + +<p>"Got to give 'em something for their money," murmured John Garfield +Madison. "Some sort of long, flowing robe now, washed every day, sort of +Grecian effect with a rope girdle, bare feet and sandals—um-m—dunno +about the sandals—don't want to slop over, and besides"—Madison +grinned a little to himself—"he might kick!"</p> + +<p>Still reflecting, but arrived at no conclusion other than first to size +up the Patriarch and see how best to handle him, Madison reached the end +of the wagon track—and halted.</p> + +<p>It was a little lighter here, now that he had left the woods, and what +appeared to be a sweep of snow-covered lawn was before him. Around this, +forming a perfect square, was a row of full-grown, magnificent maples—a +regal hedge, as it were, bordering the four sides—planted sixty years +ago! Madison's imagination fired exhilarantly at the inspiring thought +of these in leaf—in another few weeks. He shook hands with himself +cordially.</p> + +<p>"Behold the amphitheater!" he said. "This is where we stage the greatest +act of the century!"</p> + +<p>Behind the row of trees, directly across the lawn in front of him, +loomed the dark shadow of a long, low, cottage-like building, and from a +window a light twinkled out between the tree trunks; while from beyond +again came the roll of surf,<!-- Page 58 --> low, rhythmic, like the soft accompaniment +of orchestral music.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful!" breathed Madison. "I feel," said he, "as though I had just +had a drink!"</p> + +<p>He walked across the lawn, passed between the trees, and reached the end +of the cottage away from where the light showed in the window.</p> + +<p>"The Patriarch being deaf," he remarked, "I might as well explore."</p> + +<p>From the row of trees to the cottage was perhaps twenty feet. The door +of the cottage, porticoed with trellis-work, was in the center of the +cottage itself. Everywhere Madison turned were trellis-work frames for +flowers—the walls of the cottage were covered, literally covered, with +bare, slumbering shoots of Virginia creeper. In a little while now the +place would be a veritable paradise. Madison raised his hat reverently.</p> + +<p>"Fancy this on a New York stage!" said he esthetically, invoking the +universe. "Could you beat it! I could play the Patriarch myself with +this setting, and everybody would fall for it. There's nothing to it, +nothing to it, but his make-up—and I'll guarantee to take care of that. +And now we'll have a look at Aladdin's lamp and see just what kind of +rubbing up will invoke the genii!"</p> + +<p>Madison walked along the length of the cottage, past the door, and, as +he reached the lighted window, drew well away from the wall—and stared +inside. Surprise and incredulity swept across his features, and then his +face beamed and<!-- Page 59 --> his gray eyes lighted with the fire of an artist who +sees the elusive imagery of the Great Picture at last transferred to +canvas, vivid, actual, transcending his wildest hopes. He was gazing +upon the sweetest and most venerable face he had ever seen.</p> + +<p>Here and there within upon the floor were strewn old-fashioned, round +rag mats that would enrapture a connoisseur, and the floor where it +showed between the mats was scrubbed to a glistening white. The +furnishings were few and homemade, but full of simple artistry—a chair +or two, and a table, upon which burned a lamp. In a fireplace, made of +stones cemented together, the natural effect unspoiled by any attempt to +hew the stones into uniformity, a log fire glowed, sputtered, and now +and then leaped cheerily into flame.</p> + +<p>Between the table and the fire, half turned toward Madison, sat the +Patriarch. He was reading, his head bent forward, his book held very +close to his eyes. Hair, a wealth of it, soft, silky and snow-white, +reached just below his coat collar—a silvery beard fell far below his +book. But it was the face itself, no single distinguishing feature, +neither the blue eyes, the sensitive lips, nor the broad, fine forehead, +that held Madison's gaze—it seemed to combine something that he had +never seen in a face before, and to look upon it was to be drawn +instantly to the man—there was purity of thought and act stamped upon +it with a seal ineffaceable, and there was gentleness there, and +sympathy, and trust, and a simple, unassuming dignity <!-- Page 60 -->and +self-possession—and, too, there was a shadow there, a little of +sadness, a little of weariness, a background, a relief, as it were, a +touch such as a genius might conceive to lift the picture with his brush +into wondrous, lingering, haunting consonance.</p> + +<p>Madison's eyes, slowly, as though loath to leave the Patriarch's face, +travelled over the gray homespun suit that clothed the man, the white +wristbands of the home-washed shirt, unstarched, but spotlessly +clean—and his fancy of flowing, Grecian robes with rope girdles seemed +to hold him up to mockery as a crude and paltry bungler before the +perfect, unostentatious harmony of reality.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to it!" whispered Madison softly to himself. "Nothing +to it! There isn't a thing left to do—not even a chance of making a +bluff at earning the money—it's just like <i>stealing</i> it. Why, say, it +would get <i>me</i> if I weren't behind the scenes—honest now, it would!"</p> + +<p>Madison drew back from the window and walked toward the door of the +cottage.</p> + +<p>"It should take me about fifteen minutes to establish myself on the +basis of a long-lost son with the Patriarch clinging confidingly around +my neck," he observed. "If it takes me any longer than that I'd feel +depressed every time I met myself in the looking-glass."</p> + +<p>He reached the cottage door, and, lifting the brass knocker that shone +dimly in the darkness,<!-- Page 61 --> knocked once, lifted it to knock again—and his +hand fell away as he smiled a little foolishly.</p> + +<p>"I forgot the Patriarch was deaf," he muttered. "Wonder what you're +supposed to do? Walk right in, or—"</p> + +<p>The door swung suddenly wide open, and upon Madison's face, usually so +perfectly at its owner's control, came a look of stunned surprise. The +Patriarch was standing on the threshold, and, with a gesture of welcome, +was motioning him to enter.<!-- Page 62 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>—V—</h2> + +<h4>A STRANGE CONVERSATION</h4> +<br/> + +<p>Madison, quite in command of himself again in an instant, stepped, +smiling, into the cottage. He took the Patriarch's extended hand in a +cordial grip and nodded understandingly as the other, with quick, rapid +motions, touched lips and ears to signify that he could neither hear nor +speak. But, inwardly puzzled, Madison searched the Patriarch's face—was +the other playing a part? Could he <i>hear</i>, after all—and perhaps speak +as well, if he wanted to! There was certainly no guile in the venerable, +gentle face—or was it guile of a very high order?</p> + +<p>The Patriarch closed the door, and drawing his own armchair to the table +offered it to Madison with a courteous smile.</p> + +<p>Madison refused by gently forcing the old man into it himself, pulled +another up to face the Patriarch, sat down—and his eyes fixed suddenly +on the ceiling above his head. Swaying slowly back and forth was a sort +of miniature punkah of waving white canvas. He studied this for a +moment, then his eyes shifted to the Patriarch, who was regarding him +humorously.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch rose from his chair, walked to<!-- Page 63 --> the door, opened it, moved +the knocker up and down—and pointed to the ceiling. The canvas was +waving violently now, and Madison traced the cord attachment, on little +pulleys, across the ceiling to where it ran through the door and was +affixed to the knocker without. It was very simple, even +primitive—every time the knocker was lifted the cord was pulled and the +canvas waved back and forth. Madison nodded his head and smiled +approvingly, as the Patriarch once more closed the door and resumed his +seat.</p> + +<p>Madison leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to stray, not +impertinently but with pleased endorsement, around the room, to permit +an unhampered opportunity for the scrutiny of the blue eyes which he +felt upon him.</p> + +<p>"And to think," he mused reproachfully, "that I could have doubted him +for a single instant—he certainly hung one on me that time."</p> + +<p>The Patriarch reached into the drawer of the table beside him, took out +a slate and pencil, scratched a few words on the slate and handed both +pencil and slate to Madison.</p> + +<p>"Your name is Madison, isn't it?" Madison read. "From New York? Hiram +told me about you."</p> + +<p>"Hiram," said Madison to himself, "is a man of many parts, and the most +useful man I have ever known. Hiram, by reflected glory, will some day +become famous." On the slate he replied: "Yes; that is my name—John +Madison. It was good of Mr. Higgins to speak of me."<!-- Page 64 --></p> + +<p>The Patriarch held the slate within a bare inch or two of his face, and +moved it back and forth before his eyes to follow the lines. As he +lowered it, Madison reached for it politely.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you do not see very well," he scribbled. "Shall I write +larger?"</p> + +<p>Again the Patriarch deciphered the words laboriously; then he wrote, and +handed the slate to Madison.</p> + +<p>"I am going blind," he had written. "Please write as large as possible."</p> + +<p>"Blind!"—Madison's attitude and expression were eloquent enough not +only to be a perfect interpretation of his exclamation, but to convey +his shocked and pained surprise as well.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch bowed his head affirmatively, smiling a little wistfully.</p> + +<p>Madison impetuously drew his chair closer to the other, laid his hand +sympathetically upon the Patriarch's sleeve, and, with the slate upon +his knee, wrote with the other hand impulsively:</p> + +<p>"I am sorry—very, very sorry. Would you care to tell me about it?"</p> + +<p>The Patriarch's face lighted up while reading the slate, but he shook +his head slowly as he smiled again.</p> + +<p>"By <i>and</i> by, if you wish," he wrote. "But first about yourself. You are +sick—and you have come to me for help?"</p> + +<p>The slate now passed from hand to hand quite rapidly.<!-- Page 65 --></p> + +<p>"Yes," wrote Madison. "Can you cure me?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied the Patriarch; "not in your present mental condition."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Madison.</p> + +<p>"Your question itself implies that you are skeptical. While that state +of mind exists, I can do nothing—it depends entirely on yourself."</p> + +<p>"And if I put skepticism aside?" Madison's pencil demanded. "Can you +cure me then?"</p> + +<p>"Unquestionably," wrote the Patriarch, "if you really put it aside. +Faith is the simplest thing in the world and the most complex—but it is +fundamental. Without faith nothing is possible; with faith nothing is +impossible."</p> + +<p>Madison's gray eyes rested, magnificently thoughtful and troubled, upon +the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>"I have never thought much about it," he replied upon the slate, after a +tactful moment's pause. "But I believe that. There is something here, +about the place, about you that inspires confidence—I was prepared to +cling to my skepticism when I came in, but I do not feel that way now. +If only I knew you a little better, were with you a little more, I +believe I could have the faith you speak of."</p> + +<p>"How long do you remain in Needley?" the Patriarch wrote.</p> + +<p>Madison got up from his chair, went slowly to the fireplace, and, with +his back to the Patriarch, stood watching the crackling logs.</p> + +<p>"The old chap's no fool," he informed himself,<!-- Page 66 --> "even if he is gone a +little in one particular. He certainly does believe in himself for fair! +Wonder where he got his education—notice the English he writes? And, +say—<i>going blind</i>! Fancy that! Santa Claus, you overwhelm me, you are +too bountiful, you are too generous—you'll have nothing left for the +next chimney! Deaf and dumb—and blind. Really, I do not deserve this—I +really don't—let me at least tip the hat-boy, or I'll feel mean."</p> + +<p>He turned gravely to the Patriarch; resuming his chair with an +expression on his face as one arrived at a weighty decision after a +mental battle with one's self.</p> + +<p>"I will stay here until I am cured. I put myself in your hands. What am +I to do?" he wrote quickly—and held out his hand almost anxiously for +the other's assent.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch smiled seriously as, after peering at the slate, he took +the outstretched hand and laid his other one unaffectedly upon Madison's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Be sure then that I can help you," wrote the Patriarch cheerfully. +"There is no course of treatment such as you may, perhaps, imagine. My +power lies in a perfect faith to help you once you, in turn, have faith +yourself—that is all. It is but the practical application of the old +dogma that mind is superior to matter. You must come and see me every +day, and we will talk together."</p> + +<p>"I will come—gladly," Madison replied; and, taking the slate, carefully +wiped off the writing—as<!-- Page 67 --> he had previously wiped it off every time it +came into his hands—with a damp rag that the Patriarch had taken from +the table drawer when he had produced the slate and pencil.</p> + +<p>"This slate racket is the limit," said Madison to himself, as his pencil +began to move and screech again; "but I've got to get a little deeper +under his vest yet."</p> + +<p>He handed the slate to the Patriarch, and on it were the words:</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me something of yourself, how you came to live here +alone, and your name, perhaps? I do not mean to presume, but I am deeply +interested."</p> + +<p>"There is never presumption in kindliness and sympathy," answered the +Patriarch. "But my name and story is buried in the past—perhaps when I +am gone those who care to know may know. I have not hurt you by refusing +to answer?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!" said Madison politely to himself. "The element of mystery +is one of the best drawing cards I know—it's got Needley going strong. +Far, far be it from me to tear the veil asunder. I mentioned it only as +a feeler."</p> + +<p>But upon the slate he wrote:</p> + +<p>"Far from being hurt, I respect your silence. But your eyes—you were to +tell me about them."</p> + +<p>The Patriarch's face saddened suddenly as he read the words.</p> + +<p>"I have made no secret of it," he wrote. "I have been going blind for +nearly a year now. The<!-- Page 68 --> end, I am afraid, is very near—within a few +days, perhaps even to-morrow. I think I should not mind it much myself, +for I am very old and have not a great while longer to live in any case, +but for the time that is left it will mar my usefulness. I have been +able to help the people here and they have come to depend upon me—that +is my life. I trust I am not boastful if I say my greatest joy has been +in helping others."</p> + +<p>He had come to the bottom of the slate and held it out for Madison to +read; then wiped it off, and went on:</p> + +<p>"I have dreamed often of a wider field, of reaching out to help the +thousands beyond this little town—but I have realized that it could be +no more than a dream. I have been successful here because the people +believe in me and have unquestioning faith in me—to go outside amongst +strangers would only have been to be received as a charlatan and faker, +or as a poor deaf and dumb fool at best."</p> + +<p>Madison took the slate.</p> + +<p>"But if these thousands of others came to you—what then?"</p> + +<p>The Patriarch's face glowed.</p> + +<p>"It would be a wondrous joy," he wrote. "Too wondrous to dwell +upon—because it could never be. If they came I could help them, for +their very coming would be an evidence of faith—and faith alone is +necessary. Think of the joy of helping so many others—it is the fulness +of life. But let us not dream any more, friend Madison."<!-- Page 69 --></p> + +<p>"Of course," communed Madison, studying the illumined face, "he's +slightly touched in his upper story on the faith stunt; but he's in dead +earnest, and he's got the brotherhood-of-man bug bad. Come to think of +it, Hiram did say something about his 'sight failing,' but I didn't +think it was anything like this. If he's going to go finally blind in, +say, a week, perhaps it would be just as well to postpone the opening +night until he does."</p> + +<p>Madison took the slate.</p> + +<p>"Stranger things than that have happened," he wrote. "I never heard of +you before, yet I am one of the thousands beyond this little town and I +am here—why not the others?"</p> + +<p>The Patriarch shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"It is but a dream," he wrote.</p> + +<p>Madison held the slate in his hands for quite a long time before he +wrote again; his attitude one of sympathetic hesitancy as his eyes +played over the form and face before him, while the Patriarch smiled at +him with gentle, patient resignation. Back in Madison's fertile brain +the germ of an inspiration was developing into fuller life.</p> + +<p>"What will you do here alone when you are blind?" he asked—and his face +was disturbed and solicitous as he passed the Patriarch the slate.</p> + +<p>"I need very little," the Patriarch wrote back. "You must not worry +about me. My garden supplies nearly all my wants, and there are many in +the village, I am sure, who will help me with that when the snow is +gone."<!-- Page 70 --></p> + +<p>"I am quite certain of that," Madison's pencil agreed. "But here in the +house you cannot be alone—there are so many things to do, little things +that I am sure you have not thought of—some one must cook for you, for +instance. You will need a woman's hand here—have you no one, no +relative that you can call upon?"</p> + +<p>The Patriarch lowered the slate from his eyes, shook his head a little +pathetically, and began to write.</p> + +<p>"I do not think they would have cared to come, even if they were still +alive; but they are all gone many years ago—except perhaps a +grand-niece, and I do not know what has become of her."</p> + +<p>"Why, that's just the thing," wrote Madison. "Suppose we try to find +her?"</p> + +<p>Again the Patriarch shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that would be impossible. I do not even know that she is +alive. I know only of her birth, and that is twenty years ago."</p> + +<p>"Even that is not hopeless," wrote Madison optimistically, and his face +as he looked at the Patriarch was seriously thoughtful. "Where was she +born?"</p> + +<p>"New York," the Patriarch answered.</p> + +<p>"And I never half appreciated the old town nor the fulness thereof until +I came to Needley!" said Madison plaintively to the toe of his boot, +while his hand scrawled the inquiry: "What is her name?"</p> + +<p>"Vail," wrote the Patriarch. "That was her father's name. She is my +grand-niece on her<!-- Page 71 --> mother's side. I do not know what they christened +her."</p> + +<p>Madison once more, apparently deep in thought, sought refuge at the +fireplace, his hands plunged in his pockets, his shoulders drawn a +little forward, his back to the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>"Fiction," he assured a crack in the cement between two stones, "was +never, never like this. It seems to me that I remember the occurrence. +It had grown a little dim with the lapse of time, it is true; but now +that I recall it, it comes back with remarkable clearness. I am quite +sure they christened her—Helena. Helena Vail! Now isn't that a +perfectly lovely name for a novel! And she'll be so good to the dear old +chap too—washing and ironing and cooking for him—and stealing out into +the woodshed for a drag on her cigarette—<i>not</i>. No, my dear, not even +that—this is serious business."</p> + +<p>He turned, came back to his chair, picked up the slate, and wrote:</p> + +<p>"I have the fortune, or misfortune perhaps, to be what is commonly +called a rich man. Money, they say, will do anything, and if it will +I'll find this niece for you."</p> + +<p>The Patriarch's eyes grew moist as he read the words, and his hand +trembled a little with emotion as he held the pencil.</p> + +<p>"I cannot let you do that," he protested. "You are very kind, and it +seems almost as though you had been brought to me providentially at the +end of long years of loneliness for a<!-- Page 72 --> purpose, when my hour of +helplessness was near; but, indeed, I have no right to allow you to do +this."</p> + +<p>"They tell me in the village," wrote Madison in reply, "that you have +always refused to accept a penny for anything you have ever done for +them. I have no doubt you would equally refuse to accept anything from +me for what you may do, and I should hesitate to offer it however much I +felt indebted, but this is something that you must let me do. It will +make me feel more—how shall I say it?—more as though I had a right to +the privilege of coming here."</p> + +<p>The Patriarch wiped his still moist eyes before he answered.</p> + +<p>"What can I say to you? It does not seem right that I should let a +stranger do so much, and yet it seems that I should not say no +because—"</p> + +<p>Madison was bending over the slate, reading as the other wrote, and he +took the pencil gently from the Patriarch's hand.</p> + +<p>"You must not look on me any longer as a stranger," he wrote. "Let us +just consider that it is all arranged—only I would strongly advise +making no mention of it until we make sure that she is alive."</p> + +<p>"I think nothing should be said," agreed the Patriarch. "For even if you +found her she might not care to come—I have little here to offer a +young girl—few comforts—the care of a blind man who is deaf and dumb."</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that when we find her"—Madison<!-- Page 73 --> smiled brightly at the +Patriarch, as he wrote. "Now that's settled for the time being, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>The dumb lips moved and both hands reached out to Madison.</p> + +<p>Madison took them in a firm, strong, reassuring clasp, then shook his +finger in a sort of playfully emotional embarrassment, excellently well +done, at the Patriarch—and picked up the slate again.</p> + +<p>"It is getting late," he wrote, "and I must not tire you out. I am +afraid you will think I am far more inquisitive than I have any right to +be, but there is one more question that I would like to ask—may I?"</p> + +<p>The Patriarch nodded his head, and laid his hand on Madison's sleeve in +a quaint, almost affectionate way.</p> + +<p>"It is about your education. You came here sixty years ago, and you have +lived alone. You could have had but few advantages, with your handicap, +previous to that, and yet you write and use such perfect English."</p> + +<p>"The answer is very simple," replied the Patriarch on the slate. "Until +within the last year, I have read largely. Would you care to look at my +books? They are there in the nook on the other side of the fireplace."</p> + +<p>Madison, promptly and full of interest, rose from his chair, passed +around the fireplace, and halted before a row of shelves set in against +the wall.</p> + +<p>"I pass," Madison admitted to himself after a<!-- Page 74 --> moment, during which his +eyes roved over the well chosen classics. "I've heard of one or two of +these before—casually. I've an idea that if the Patriarch's got all +this inside his gray matter, it's just as well for the Flopper, for Pale +Face Harry, for Helena and yours truly that he's deaf and dumb—and will +be blind."</p> + +<p>Madison came back to the Patriarch with beaming face, and picked up the +slate.</p> + +<p>"I read a great deal myself," he wrote. "It is a pleasure to find <i>real</i> +books here. May I, during my stay in Needley, look upon them in a little +way as my own library?"</p> + +<p>"You are very welcome indeed," the Patriarch answered.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," wrote Madison. "And now, surely, I must go"—he smiled at +the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>"Come to-morrow," invited the Patriarch. "I would like to show you all +around my little place here."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will," Madison scratched upon the slate, "and do you know +that somehow, since I came here to-night, I feel a sense of relief, a +sort of guarantee that everything is going to be all right with me in +the future."</p> + +<p>The Patriarch smiled quietly, almost tolerantly.</p> + +<p>"I know that," he wrote. "Keep your mind free of doubt, be optimistic +and cheerful as regards yourself, nourish the faith that has already +taken root and that I feel responds to mine; keep in the open air and +take plenty of exercise."</p> + +<p>Slowly, with an apparently abstracted air, Madison<!-- Page 75 --> read the slate, +wiped it carefully, laid it down, and then held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" he nodded warmly.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch, still with the quiet smile upon his lips, rose from his +armchair, and, keeping his clasp on Madison's hand, led Madison to the +door, opened it, and with a gesture at once courtly and affectionate +bade his guest good-night.</p> + +<p>Madison crossed the lawn at a thoughtful pace, turned into the wagon +track, and, in the shelter of the woods now, whimsically felt his pulse; +then, lighting a cigar, tramped on with a buoyant stride.</p> + +<p>"There's only one answer, of course," he mused. "The Patriarch's got a +brain kink on faith—it's the natural outcome of living alone for sixty +years. Outside of that and his books, he's as simple and innocent and +trusting as a babe. I suppose the thing's kind of grown on him—Hiram +said it had taken forty years—which isn't sudden unless you say it +quick. Hanged if I don't like the old sport though, and if Helena isn't +the best ever to him I'll stop her chewing gum allowance." Madison +looked up through the arched, leafless branches overhead. "Beautiful +night, isn't it?" said he pleasantly.</p> + +<p>A little later he reached the main road and paused a moment on the +bridge, as though to sum up the thoughts and imaginings that had +occupied him on the way along.</p> + +<p>"It's a queer world," said John Garfield Madison profoundly to the +turbid little stream that flowed beneath his feet. "I wonder why some<!-- Page 76 --> +of us are born with brains—and some are born just plain damned fools!"</p> + +<p>He went on again, arrived at the Congress Hotel, and, discovering +through the window that the leading citizens of Needley were still in +session, negotiated the back entrance. On the way upstairs he +stumbled—quite inadvertently—and stopped to listen.</p> + +<p>"There he be now," announced Hiram Higgins' voice excitedly. "Goin' up +to his room to meditate. Knew he'd come back feelin' like that. I be +goin' out there to-morrow to see the Patriarch myself."</p> + +<p>Madison smiled, mounted the remaining stairs, entered his room, and +lighted his lamp.</p> + +<p>"Having got my hand in at writing," he remarked, "I guess I'd better +keep it up and write Helena—Vail."</p> + +<p>He extracted a pad of writing paper and an envelope from the tray of his +trunk, his fountain pen from his pocket, and, drawing his chair to the +table and laying down his cigar reluctantly at his elbow, began to +write. At the end of fifteen minutes, he tilted back his chair, +relighted the stub of his cigar, and critically read over his epistle.</p> + +<p>"Dear Kid," it ran. "Do not be anxious about me—I am feeling better +already. Have had my first treatment, and am now eating fried eggs and +ham regularly three times a day. A Sunday-school picnic taking to +washboilers full of thin coffee and the left-over cakes kindly +contributed by Deacon Jones' household, is nothing to<!-- Page 77 --> the way the boobs +will take to the Patriarch—who has kindly consented to go blind to make +our thorny paths as smooth as possible for us.</p> + +<p>"Do you get that, Helena—he's going blind! In just a few days, my dear, +you will be with me, have patience. The meteorological bureau is a +little hazy yet on the exact date of the total eclipse, but it's due to +happen any minute. Now listen. Your name is Helena Vail. You're the +Patriarch's grand-niece, and you're coming to live alone with him and +soothe his declining years; but you can't come yet because I've got to +find you first, and besides, until he's blind, he'll stick to a nasty +habit he's got of asking questions on his little slate. You needn't have +any hesitation about coming on the score of propriety, I assure you it +is perfectly proper—he is running Methuselah pretty near a dead heat. +And, as far as the town is concerned, apart from the fact that you are a +grand-niece, orphaned, you don't have to know anything about yourself, +either—that's part of the Patriarch's dark, mysterious past, where the +lights go out and the fiddles get rickets.</p> + +<p>"That's about all. I'll let you know when to come. Remember me to Mr. +Coogan and Harry, and keep my picture under your pillow. Ever thine, +J.G.M."</p> + +<p>Madison picked up his pen again and added another line:</p> + +<p>"P.S. Better buy a cook-book."</p> + +<p>He folded the pages, inserted them in the envelope, sealed the envelope +and addressed it to<!-- Page 78 --> Miss Helena Smith—street and number not far from +the tenderloin district of New York.</p> + +<p>Then Madison yawned pleasantly, tucked the letter in his pocket—and +prepared for bed.<!-- Page 79 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>—VI—</h2> + +<h4>OFFICIALLY ENDORSED</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>Ten days had passed, bringing with them many changes. The snow was gone, +and the warm, balmy airs of springtime had brought the buds upon the +trees almost to leaf. It seemed indeed a new land, and one now full of +charm and delight—the desolate, straggling hamlet, once so barren, +frozen and hopeless looking, was now a quaint, alluring little village +nestling picturesquely in its hollow, framed in green fields and +majestic woods. Quiet, restful, peaceful it was—like a dream place, +untroubled. Upon the farms about men plowed their furrows, calling to +each other and to their horses; in the homes the doors and windows were +thrown hospitably wide to the sweet, fresh, vernal airs, and the thrifty +housewives were busy at their cleaning.</p> + +<p>And there had been other changes, too. The ten days had found Madison +more and more a constant visitor, and finally a most intimate one, at +the Patriarch's cottage—while to the circle in the hotel office his +voice no longer rose in even feeble protest, he was one of them. And, +perhaps most vital change of all, the Patriarch was nearly blind—so +nearly blind that conversation<!-- Page 80 --> now was limited to but little more than +a single word at a time upon the slate.</p> + +<p>It was morning, in the Patriarch's sitting-room, and Madison was seated +in his usual place beside the table facing the other. For upwards of an +hour, it had taken him that long, he had been engaged, having decided +that the time was ripe, in telling the Patriarch that his grand-niece +had been found and that now it was only necessary to write and ask her +to come to Needley.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch's fine old face was aglow with pleasure as he finally +understood. Letter writing was beyond him now, a thing of the past, so +upon the slate he scrawled:</p> + +<p>"You write."</p> + +<p>Madison shook his head; and again with gentle patience explained that +perhaps it would be better if the letter came from some one holding an +official position in the village, rather than from one who, even in an +abstract way, would be unknown to her—the postmaster, for instance.</p> + +<p>And the Patriarch, patting Madison's sleeve gratefully, agreed.</p> + +<p>Out in the garden behind the cottage, where for the first time in sixty +seasons the work must be done by other hands, Hiram Higgins, the +volunteer for the moment, was busy at his "spell."</p> + +<p>Madison stepped to the door and called him in.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Higgins," he said, "the Patriarch has just told me that he has a +grand-niece living in New York, and he wants you to write to her and ask +her to come to him."<!-- Page 81 --></p> + +<p>"Be that so!" exclaimed Mr. Higgins, gazing earnestly at the Patriarch. +"Well, 'tain't no surprise to me—always calc'lated he must have folks +somewheres. An' I'm right glad now he needs 'em he's made up his mind to +have 'em come. Wants me to write, does he?"</p> + +<p>"He can't write any more himself," said Madison. "He seems to think that +you, as the postmaster, as well as the town police official, are the +proper person to do it—and I quite agree with him."</p> + +<p>"So I be," declared Mr. Higgins importantly. "I'll write it on the town +paper, an' comin' from the postmaster there won't be no doubt in her +mind that it's any of them bunco games or the lurin' of young women away +such as I've read about, for I reckon perhaps she ain't never heerd of +him before—never knew <i>him</i> to write a letter, an' I calc'late to see +most everything that goes out."</p> + +<p>Mr. Higgins picked up the slate and wrote the word "grand-niece?" upon +it in enormous characters; then, amplifying his interrogation by many +gestures of his hands, deft from long practice, he held the slate up to +the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch nodded, and Hiram Higgins nodded back encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Where be her address?" Mr. Higgins inquired of Madison.</p> + +<p>Madison stepped to the bookshelves out of view of the Patriarch around +the fireplace, but in full view of Mr. Higgins, and, reaching down the<!-- Page 82 --> +Bible from the topmost shelf, extracted from inside its cover the aged, +yellow slip of paper that he had deposited there when he had entered the +cottage that morning, and on which was inscribed Helena's name and +address in a stiff, old-fashioned, angular hand resembling the +Patriarch's—an effect that Madison had stayed up half the night to +produce.</p> + +<p>"I guess this must be it," he said. "He said it was here—we'll make +sure though"—and he handed it to the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>Long and painfully the Patriarch studied it, anxiously deciphering the +words that he had never seen before, anxious to know all and whatever +this might tell him about his niece—then again he nodded his head and +expressed his gratitude by, patting Madison's sleeve.</p> + +<p>Madison's smile modestly disavowed any thanks, as he passed the slip to +Mr. Higgins.</p> + +<p>"Reckon that be it," Mr. Higgins agreed. "An' now, I guess I'll go right +back to town an' write it—I allow that the sooner we get her down here +the better. Folks'll be glad to hear this—the women folks was figurin' +on takin' spells an' helpin' out in the house same as the men in the +garden—'pears now there won't be no need of it."</p> + +<p>Madison accompanied Mr. Higgins outside and helped him to harness up.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mr. Madison," said Hiram Higgins, as he made ready to go and +climbed into the democrat, "would you allow that the Patriarch's<!-- Page 83 --> goin' +blind was goin' to interfere any with his power of curin' folks? It'll +be a powerful blow to the town if it does."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course not!" said Madison decisively. "Certainly not! Indeed, I +wouldn't be surprised if it enhanced his power—it's purely mental, you +know. They say that the loss of any one or more of the senses generally +tends to make the others only the more acute—it's the—er—law of +compensation."</p> + +<p>"Glad to hear you say so," said Mr. Higgins, with a sigh of relief, +"'cause I got another letter to write 'sides this one for the Patriarch. +It come last night, an' I was figurin' on speakin' to you about it." Mr. +Higgins dropped the reins on the dashboard, and dove into first one +pocket and then another. "Shucks!" said he disgustedly. "Now if I ain't +gone an' left it to home after all. But I dunno as it makes much +difference. It was from a fellow up your way by the name of Michael +Coogan, an' was addressed to the postmaster. 'Pears he read a piece in +the papers about the Patriarch which he sent along with the letter. +Allows he's been ailin' quite a spell, though he don't say what's the +matter with him, an' wants to know if what's in that piece is all gospel +truth, 'cause if 'tis he's comin' down. That's why I'm right glad to +have heerd you say what you just said. Bein' postmaster an' writin' +'fficially, I got to be conscientious and pretty partic'lar."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course—naturally," said Madison. "And what are you going to +say to him?"<!-- Page 84 --> "Why," returned Mr. Higgins, "there ain't no trouble about +it now. Goin' to tell him that if the Patriarch can't help him there +ain't nobody on earth can—thought of mentionin' your name, too."</p> + +<p>"By all means," assented Madison cordially. "I feel like a new man since +I've come here. I only wish more people knew about the Patriarch—it +makes your heart ache to think of the suffering and sickness that people +endure so hopelessly when there isn't any need of it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, so it do," said Mr. Higgins. He picked up the reins. "So it do," +he said heartily.</p> + +<p>Madison watched the democrat as it started off behind the ambling +horse—watched with a sort of fascination at the inebriate, sideways +stagger of the wheels, a sort of wonder that the rear ones didn't shut +up like a jack-knife under the body of the vehicle and the democrat +promptly sit down on its tail-board; then, smiling, he walked back into +the cottage. The Patriarch was still sitting in the armchair beside the +table. Madison halted before the other.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he confidentially to the Patriarch, "that's settled and I +don't mind admitting that it's a load off my mind. I hate to think of +what we'd have done without Hiram Higgins—in fact, it distresses me to +think of it. Let us think of something else. Day after to-morrow +Helena'll be along. Helena is the one and only—but you'll find that out +for yourself. I don't mind telling you though that she wears a number +two<!-- Page 85 --> shoe, and you can guess the rest without any help from me. Then a +day or so later the Flopper and Pale Face Harry'll be along—you'll +enjoy them—things aren't going to be a bit slow from now on. I expect +the Flopper will bring some friends with him, too, so's to make a nice +little house-party—I wrote him about it, and—" Madison stopped +abruptly.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch, evidently catching a movement of Madison's lips, was +gesticulating violently toward his ears, while he smiled half +tolerantly, half protestingly.</p> + +<p>Madison nodded quickly and smiled deprecatingly in return.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he said apologetically. "I always keep forgetting that you +can't hear. I was suggesting that perhaps you might like to go for a +walk—Mr. Higgins says it's a fine day." Madison picked up the slate and +in huge letters that sprawled from one end of the slate to the other +wrote the word: "WALK?"</p> + +<p>The Patriarch rose from his chair with a pleased expression, and Madison +helped him solicitously to the door.</p> + +<p>They passed out into the sunshine and headed for the beach—the +Patriarch, erect and strong, guiding himself with his hand on Madison's +arm.</p> + +<p>Reaching the beach, the Patriarch paused and turned his face toward the +ocean, while he drew in great breaths of the invigorating air—and +Madison involuntarily stepped a little aside to look at the other +critically, as one might seek a<!-- Page 86 --> vantage ground from which to view a +picture in all its variant lights and shades. Against the crested, +breaking surf, the fume-sprayed ledges of rock, the Patriarch stood out +a majestic, almost saintly figure—tall, stately, grand with the true +grandeur of simplicity, simple in dress, simple in attitude and mien, +patience, sweetness and trust illumining his face, his silver-crowned +head thrown back.</p> + +<p>"I can shut my eyes," said Madison softly, "and see the Flopper being +cured right now—and the Flopper couldn't help it if he wanted to!"<!-- Page 87 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>—VII—</h2> + +<h4>THE PATRIARCH'S GRAND-NIECE</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>It was Hiram Higgins who introduced Helena Vail to Madison, two days +later. Madison had led the Patriarch outside the door of the cottage as +the sound of wheels announced the expected arrival, and was waiting for +her as Mr. Higgins drove up in the democrat. Helena, marvelously garbed, +in the extreme of fashion, was demurely surveying her surroundings; +while Mr. Higgins was very evidently excited and not a little flustered. +A huge trunk and two smaller ones occupied the rear of the democrat, +with the dismantled back seat lashed on top of them.</p> + +<p>Madison, leaving the Patriarch, hastened forward politely.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Madison," said Hiram Higgins importantly, "this be the Patriarch's +grand-niece come to stay with him."</p> + +<p>From under a picture hat, Helena's eyes smiled down at Madison.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad to meet you, Mr. Madison," she said cordially. "Mr. +Higgins has been telling me about you, and how good you have been to +my—my grand-uncle."<!-- Page 88 --></p> + +<p>"You are very kind to say so, Miss Vail," responded Madison modestly. +"May I help you down?"</p> + +<p>She gave him a daintily gloved hand, exposed a daintily stockinged ankle +as she placed her foot a little hesitantly on the wheel, and jumped +lightly to the ground.</p> + +<p>"That," she said quickly and a little anxiously for Mr. Higgins' ears, +indicating the Patriarch, "that is my grand-uncle there, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Madison, leading her toward the Patriarch. "And he has been +looking forward very anxiously all day to your arrival—it seemed as +though the afternoon would never come for him."</p> + +<p>"Gee!" said Helena under her breath. "I had the rubes in the village on +the run—you ought to have seen them stare as the chariot drove along."</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder," said Madison softly. "The sun's rather strong down +here, Helena, and if you're not careful you'll scorch your neck with +those burning-glasses you've got in your ears."</p> + +<p>"Don't I look nice?" demanded Helena, with a pout.</p> + +<p>"You bet you do!" said Madison earnestly. "You've got the swellest thing +on Broadway beaten from Forty-Second Street to the Battery. Now, here +you are"—they had halted before the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>The venerable face was turned toward them, as though by instinct the +Patriarch knew that<!-- Page 89 --> they were there—and his hands were held out in +greeting.</p> + +<p>Helena clasped them firmly, and submitted sweetly as the Patriarch drew +her into his arms.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch released her after an instant, and his hands, in lieu of +eyes, reaching out to search her face, came bewilderingly in contact +with the picture hat.</p> + +<p>Helena, a little uncertainly, looked at Madison.</p> + +<p>"Is he <i>all</i> blind?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Quite blind," said Madison sadly.</p> + +<p>Helena's face clouded a little, and into the brown eyes crept a strange, +sudden, sympathetic look.</p> + +<p>"Doc," she said, "it—it isn't fair. It's a shame—he can't fight back."</p> + +<p>"One error to you, Miss Vail," said Madison pleasantly. "Eliminate the +'Doc.' Don't shed tears, you're down here to be sweet to him, aren't +you—well, get into the game."</p> + +<p>Helena turned from Madison, and, impulsively taking the Patriarch's +groping hands, guided them to her cheeks and held them there.</p> + +<p>"Lucky dog!" observed Madison; then, raising his voice: "I am sure you +would like to be alone together, Miss Vail—perhaps you will take him +into the cottage. If you will excuse me, I'll help Mr. Higgins with the +trunks."</p> + +<p>Madison turned and walked over to where Mr. Higgins, beside the democrat +with a handful of chin whiskers, was observing the scene.<!-- Page 90 --></p> + +<p>"Fine girl!" declared Mr. Higgins, as Helena, with the Patriarch's arm +in hers, disappeared inside the cottage. "'Pears she must have money, +an' I'm right glad 'count of the Patriarch—said her father an' mother +was dead an' she was alone in the world—them jewels she wore must have +cost a pile. Reckon she's been used to livin' kinder different from the +way folks down here do—hope 'tain't goin' to be so hard on her she +won't want to stay."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking about that myself," said Madison gravely, knotting his +brows as he nodded his head. "There's no doubt it will be a big change +for her, but I imagine she had some sort of an idea what to expect—it +is certainly greatly to her credit that she would give up her own +interests unselfishly and come here to devote her life to the care of a +relative whom she had never seen before. I've an idea that the girl who +would do that is the kind of a girl who's got grit enough to see it +through."</p> + +<p>"So she be," said Mr. Higgins heartily. "Ain't every one 'ud do it—not +by a heap!"</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a hand with the trunks," said Madison thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>They carried the large trunk between them into the cottage and, as +Helena called to them, down the little hallway past what Madison knew to +be the Patriarch's bedroom, and stopped before the next door, which was +open. Madison remembered the room, when nearly two weeks ago now the +Patriarch had shown him through the cottage,<!-- Page 91 --> as a sort of store-room +full of odds and ends. Mr. Higgins, too, evidently had known it only in +that guise, for he whistled softly and reached for his whiskers.</p> + +<p>"Well now, if that ain't right smart of the Patriarch!" he exclaimed. +"Real set he must have been on makin' you feel to home, Miss Vail—an' +never said a word to no one, neither."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Helena, "isn't it pretty? And did he really fix this up for +me all by himself?"—she was looking at Madison, as she stood in the +center of the room beside the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>"Must have," said Madison, surveying the room.</p> + +<p>It wasn't luxurious, the little chamber, nor was there over much of +furniture, nor was that even of a high order—there was a bed with a +red-checkered crazy-quilt; a washstand with severe, heavy white +crockery; a rocking chair, homemade, of hickory; a rag mat, round, +many-colored; and white muslin curtains on the windows. It wasn't +luxurious, the little chamber—it was fresh and sweet and clean.</p> + +<p>Upon the Patriarch's face was a sort of pleased expectancy, and Helena +promptly took his arm and pressed it affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it perfectly dear of him!" she said softly. "To think of him +going to all this trouble for me when he could scarcely see!"</p> + +<p>"Well, 'tain't no more'n you deserve," said Mr. Higgins gallantly, as he +slewed the trunk around against the wall. "I'll lug them other<!-- Page 92 --> trunks +in myself, ain't but small ones, they ain't"—and he hurried from the +room, as though fearful that Madison might secure a share in the honors.</p> + +<p>"I guess you've made a hit with Mr. Higgins, Helena," observed Madison, +with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Have I?" returned Helena absently; then abruptly: "This is a real nice +lay you've steered me into, John Madison."</p> + +<p>"Yes; not bad," said Madison complacently. "Bring your uncle into the +front room, Helena; and then you can get Hiram to show you the well and +the old oaken bucket and where the pantries and cupboards are, he knows +more about them than I do—it's pretty near time for you to be thinking +about getting supper."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to stay for it?" inquired Helena pertly.</p> + +<p>"For the first attempt!" ejaculated Madison, with a wry face. "Good +Heavens, no! I'm just convalescing from a serious illness."</p> + +<p>In the front room Madison settled himself to a study of the Patriarch's +beaming, happy face, while Helena under Mr. Higgins' attentive guidance +explored the cottage.</p> + +<p>"D'ye know, old chap," he said, and leaned across the table to touch the +Patriarch's hand, "I feel like a blooming philanthropist. An outsider +might think I was playing you pretty low and taking advantage of you, +and even Helena's got a budding hunch that way it seems—but just think +of the mess you'd have been in if it wasn't<!-- Page 93 --> for me, just think of the +good you're going to do, and just look at yourself and see how pleased +and happy you look."</p> + +<p>The Patriarch smiled responsively to the touch upon his hand.</p> + +<p>"Of course you are," said Madison affably.</p> + +<p>Presently there came the sound of an axe busily at work, and a moment +later Helena came laughingly into the room.</p> + +<p>"He's filling up the wood-box," she explained, and darting across to +Madison put her arms around his neck. "Aren't you going to tell me +you're glad to see me?" she whispered coyly. "Oh, I've been longing so +for you! Kiss me"—she held out tempting little red lips, invitingly +pursed up.</p> + +<p>"Nix on that!" said Madison, smiling but firm, as he disengaged her +arms. "Soft pedal, Helena, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But he can't see or hear," pouted Helena.</p> + +<p>"I should hope not!" said Madison, with a gasp. "But you never know who +else might, or when they might—we begin right, and run no risks—see? +People have a charming habit of dropping around informally +here—everybody's at home."</p> + +<p>"Don't you love me any more?" inquired Helena, unconvinced, and still +pouting.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I do!" asserted Madison, laughing at her. "Don't be a goose, +Helena. You remember what I told you all in the Roost, don't you? Well, +I haven't been living in a Maine<!-- Page 94 --> village ten days or two weeks for +nothing, and what I said then goes now more than ever. Now, don't get +sore, kid—there's a big stake up, and if we're going to play the game +we've got to play it to the limit. We live perfectly, ultra-proper, +decent lives, mentally, morally, physically, till we beat it out of here +for keeps."</p> + +<p>"Ain't we going to have a nice time!" murmured Helena sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"Oh, cheer up!" said Madison. "It may be quiet for a day or two—but not +much longer than that. Now tell me about the Flopper and Pale Face +before Higgins gets back—have they got things straight? And pat your +uncle's hand while you talk, Helena—get the habit."</p> + +<p>"I don't have to get the habit," said Helena a little crossly, perching +herself on the arm of the Patriarch's chair and taking his hand. "I +think he's a perfect dear, and for us to sit here and take advantage of +him when he trusts us is—"</p> + +<p>"Now cut that out," said Madison cheerfully. "Think of those gondolas in +Venice when we get through with this—that'll make you feel better. Go +on about the Flopper and Pale Face—can the Flopper speak any English +yet?"</p> + +<p>Helena laughed in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>"I've had a dream of a time with him," she said. "He's broken his neck +trying, at any rate; and he's not so bad as he was—quite."</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Madison. "And?"</p> + +<p>"I read them your last letter saying they were to come together and work +the train on the way<!-- Page 95 --> down," she continued. "The Flopper got the +postmaster's letter, too."</p> + +<p>"How did it size up as a testimonial?" inquired Madison.</p> + +<p>Helena's dark eyes flashed with amusement.</p> + +<p>"Lovely!"</p> + +<p>"Too thick—fishy?" asked Madison.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Helena, "not if you have faith—just strong. It's all +right, though; I told him he could use it—it's a drawing card in +itself, for some of them would be curious enough to get off and see the +finish. Everything is all fixed—they'll be here to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Good girl!" said Madison approvingly. "We'll pull it off out there on +the lawn where all the multitude can see—you'll have to lead his nibs +out and guide him to the Flopper while the hush falls and you look kind +of scared—you know the lay. There's no one can touch you when it comes +to playing up to the house. And now, there's just one thing more—you'll +need some one around here to help you and keep an eye on the offerings +when they begin to come in. Well, that's the Flopper's rôle in the +second act—see? Overwhelmed with gratitude at his cure, he attaches +himself to the Patriarch with dog-like fidelity—beautiful thought!—get +the idea? And—"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" cautioned Helena. "Here's Mr. Higgins coming."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Madison, rising and moving to the door. "I'm going +now, then—guess you<!-- Page 96 --> understand. See you in the morning for the final +touches. Tell Mr. Higgins I'm waiting outside for him to drive me home." +He raised his voice. "Good afternoon, Miss Vail," he said, and stepped +out onto the lawn.<!-- Page 97 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>—VIII—</h2> + +<h4>IN WHICH THE BAIT IS NIBBLED</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>There was a group around the Flopper on the Portland platform beside the +Bar Harbor express; some wore pitying expressions, others smiled a +little tolerantly—Pale Face Harry, from the circle, sneered openly.</p> + +<p>"Nutty!" he coughed, and touched his forehead. "Nothing doing in the +upper story—some one ought to look after him."</p> + +<p>The Flopper, a crippled thing on the ground, fixed Pale Face Harry with +a pointed forefinger.</p> + +<p>"Youse don't look like you had many weeps to spare for anybody but +yerself—yer fallin' to pieces," said the Flopper. "I didn't ask you nor +any of youse to butt in—I was talkin' to dis lady here"—he motioned +toward a young woman in a wheeled, invalid chair, who, between a trained +nurse on one side and a gentleman on the other, was regarding him with a +startled expression in her eyes.</p> + +<p>She turned now and spoke to the gentleman beside her.</p> + +<p>"Robert," she said, in a low, anxious tone, "do you think that—that +there can be anything in it?"<!-- Page 98 --></p> + +<p>"Have you lost your head, Naida?" the man laughed. "The age of miracles +has passed."</p> + +<p>"But he is so <i>sure</i>," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Poppycock!" said her companion contemptuously.</p> + +<p>The Flopper, in good, if unfashionable and ready-made clothes, fresh +linen, and a clean shave, turned a bright, intelligent face on the man +at this remark.</p> + +<p>"I guess youse are de kind," he said, with a grim smile, "dat ain't had +to kill yerself worryin' much about any kind of trouble, an' it ain't +nothin' to you to cut de ground of hope out from another guy's feet an' +let him slide. Mabbe you think I'm nutty too, because I know I'm goin' +to be cured—but it don't hurt you none to have me think so, does it? +Mabbe someday you might like to hope a little yerself, an' if—"</p> + +<p>"'Board! All aboard!"—the conductor's voice boomed down the platform.</p> + +<p>The young woman leaned forward in her chair toward the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"I know what it is to hope," she said softly. "Will you come back into +our car after awhile? I'd like to have you tell me more about this. +Please do."</p> + +<p>"Sure," said the Flopper amiably. "Sure, mum, I will, if youse wants me +to."</p> + +<p>The crowd broke up, hurrying for the train; and the Flopper, dragging a +valise along beside him, jerked himself toward the steps.</p> + +<p>"Swipe me, if I ain't got a bite already!" said<!-- Page 99 --> the Flopper to himself. +"An' outer a private car, too—wouldn't dat bump you! An' say, wait till +you see de Doc t'row up his dukes when he listens to me handin' out me +sterilized English!"</p> + +<p>The brakeman and a kindly-hearted fellow passenger helped the Flopper +into the train—and thereafter for an hour or more, in a first class +coach, the Flopper held undisputed sway. The passengers, flocking from +the other cars, filled the aisle and seriously interfered with the +lordly movements of the train crew, challenging the conductor's +authority with passive indifference until that functionary, exasperated +beyond endurance, threatened to curtail the ride the Flopper had paid +for and put him off at the next station—whereat the passive attitude of +the passengers vanished. The American public is always interested in a +novelty, and on occasions is not to be gainsaid—the American public, as +represented by the patrons of the Bar Harbor express, was interested at +the moment in the Flopper, and they passed the conductor from hand to +hand—it was the only way he could have got through the car—and +deposited him outside in the vestibule to tell his troubles to the +buffer-plate.</p> + +<p>The Flopper was in deadly, serious earnest; there was no doubt, no +possible room for doubt on that score—one had but to look at the flush +upon his cheeks and note the ring of conviction in his voice. Even Pale +Face Harry's gibes and sneers melted before the unshakable assurance,<!-- Page 100 --> +and he became, with reservations, noticeably impressed.</p> + +<p>A metropolitan newspaper man was struck with the idea of a humorous +series of articles to pay for his vacation, entitled, "Characters I Have +Met In Maine"—and forthwith, perched on the back of the seat behind the +Flopper, proceeded to sketch out the first one, with the mental +determination to get off at Needley for the local color necessary to its +climax.</p> + +<p>A soap drummer nudged a fellow drummer whose line was lingerie.</p> + +<p>"Ever do Needley?" he grinned.</p> + +<p>The lingerie exponent had a sense of humor—he grinned back.</p> + +<p>"My house is everlastingly rubbing it into me to open up new territory," +said the soap salesman.</p> + +<p>"Me too," responded the white-goods man.</p> + +<p>"Needley," said he of the soap persuasion, "would be virgin soil for any +drummer."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see the finish," said the lingerie man—still grinning.</p> + +<p>"Well?" inquired the soap man—still grinning. "What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"You bet!" said the man with eight trunks full of daintiness in the +baggage car ahead. "It's Needley for ours—you're on!"</p> + +<p>The Flopper was an artist—and he was in his glory. Where his position +was indubitably weak, he side-stepped with the frank admission that he +knew no more than they. He knew only one<!-- Page 101 --> thing, and that was the only +thing he cared about, the rest made no odds to him, he was going down to +Needley to be cured—and he let them see Mr. Higgins' letter.</p> + +<p>A porter from the rear car squirmed and wriggled his way down to the +seat occupied by the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Mistah Tho'nton, sah," he announced importantly, "would like to see you +in his private car, if you could done make it convenient, sah."</p> + +<p>"Sure!" said the Flopper.</p> + +<p>The passengers crowded up, standing on the seats and arm-rests, to make +room for the Flopper to crawl down the aisle, while the porter preceded +him to open the doors.</p> + +<p>Through the car in the rear of the one he had occupied, the regular +parlor car, the Flopper, a piteous spectacle, made his way—chairs +turned, the occupants craned their necks after the deformed and broken +creature, while smothered exclamations and little cries of sympathy from +the women followed him along. The Flopper's eyes never lifted from the +strip of carpet before him, but his lips moved.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" he muttered. "Dis has de gape-wagon skun a mile. Wish I could +pass de hat—I'd make de killin' of me young life. Pipe de hydrogen hair +on de gran'mother wid de sparkler on her thumb an' weeps in her eyes, +an' look at de guy wid de yellow gloves rolled back on his wrists to +heighten de intelligint look on his face, dat she's kiddin'—I could +play dem to a fare-thee-well<!-- Page 102 --> if I only had de chanst. Oh, gee!"—the +Flopper sighed—"an' I got to let it go!"</p> + +<p>With regret still poignantly affecting him, the Flopper passed on into +the private car, and the porter ushered him into a sort of combination +observation and sitting-room compartment. The Flopper's eyes lifted and +made a quick, comprehensive tour of his surroundings. The young woman +who had spoken to him on the platform was reclining on a couch; the +nurse sat on the foot of the couch; and the man was tilted back in an +armchair against the window.</p> + +<p>The young woman raised herself to a sitting posture and held out her +hand.</p> + +<p>"I am Mrs. Thornton," she said, with a smile. "This is my husband, and +this is Miss Harvey, my nurse. It was very good of you to come, Mr.—?" +she paused invitingly.</p> + +<p>"Coogan," supplied the Flopper. "Michael Coogan."</p> + +<p>"Let me offer you a chair, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton, a little +ironically, pushing one toward the Flopper. "Or would you be more +comfortable on the floor?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper's eyelids fell—covering a quick, ugly glint.</p> + +<p>"T'anks!" he said—and swung himself, by his arms, into the chair.</p> + +<p>"I want you to tell me all about this strange man in Needley, and how +you came to hear of him and believe in him," said Mrs. Thornton. "I was +only able to get just the barest outline of<!-- Page 103 --> it out there on the +platform with the crowd around."</p> + +<p>"Dat's easy," said the Flopper earnestly. "Sure, I'll tell you. I saw a +piece about dis Patriarch in one of de Noo Yoik papers, so I writes to +de postmaster of de town to find out if he was on de level—see?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Thornton. "And what did the postmaster say?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper took Hiram Higgins' letter from his pocket and handed it to +Mrs. Thornton.</p> + +<p>"Youse can read it fer yerself, mum," he said, with an air of one +delivering a final and irrefutable argument.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton read the letter carefully, almost anxiously.</p> + +<p>"If only a part of this is true," she said wistfully, passing it to her +husband, "it is perfectly wonderful."</p> + +<p>Mr. Thornton read it—with a grin.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I am sure," he observed caustically, handing the letter +to Miss Harvey, "how the medical profession would stand on this—would +your school endorse it, nurse?"</p> + +<p>Miss Harvey read it with her back to the others—then she glanced at +Mrs. Thornton—and checked herself as she was about to speak. She folded +the letter slowly and returned it to the Flopper without comment.</p> + +<p>Robert Thornton, master of millions, hard-headed and practical for all +his youth, leaned forward in his chair toward the Flopper.<!-- Page 104 --></p> + +<p>"Look here," he said bluntly, "you don't mean to say that you believe +this seriously, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said the Flopper softly. "Nothin' like dat! Of course I don't +believe it! I'm only guyin' myself—see? I'm just goin' dere fer +fun—an' spendin' me last red to get dere. Say"—his voice snapped—"wot +do youse t'ink I am, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, Robert," said Mrs. Thornton gently, "it is evident enough that +he believes it."</p> + +<p>Thornton did not look at her—he was still gazing at the Flopper, his +brows knitted.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been like this?" he demanded sharply.</p> + +<p>"All me life," said the Flopper. "I was born dat way."</p> + +<p>"And you expect to go down here and by some means, which I must confess +is quite beyond my ability to grasp, be cured in a miraculous +manner!"—Thornton smiled tolerantly.</p> + +<p>"Sure, I do!" asserted the Flopper doggedly. "If he's done it fer de +crowd dere, why can't he do it fer me? Didn't de postmaster say all yer +gotter have is faith? Well, I got de faith—an' I got it hard enough to +stake all I got on it. Dis time to-morrow—say, dis time to-morrow I +wouldn't change places wid any man in de United States."</p> + +<p>Thornton's tolerant smile deepened.</p> + +<p>"I guess you're sincere enough," he said; "and I'm not trying to cut the +ground of hope out from under your feet, as you put it out on the +platform—but<!-- Page 105 --> it seems to me that it is only the kindly thing to do to +warn you that the more faith you put in a thing like this the worse you +are making it for yourself—you are laying up a bitter disappointment in +store that can only make your present misfortune the more unbearable."</p> + +<p>The Flopper shook his head.</p> + +<p>"If he's done it fer others, he can do it fer me," he repeated, with +unshaken conviction. "An' dat goes—I can't lose."</p> + +<p>Thornton tilted his chair back again, and stared at the Flopper with +pitying incredulity.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment; then Mrs. Thornton spoke.</p> + +<p>"Robert," she said slowly, "I want to stop at Needley."</p> + +<p>The front legs of Thornton's chair came down on the heavy carpet with a +dull thud, and he whirled around in his seat to stare at his wife.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say, Naida," he gasped, "that you've got faith in +this thing, too!"</p> + +<p>"No; not faith," she answered pathetically. "I hardly dare to <i>hope</i>. I +have hoped so much in the last year, and—"</p> + +<p>"But this is sheer nonsense!" Thornton broke in with irritable +impatience. "I can understand this man here, in a way—he has the +superstition, if you like to call it that, due to lack of education, if +he'll pardon my saying so in his presence; but you, Naida, surely you +can't take any stock in it!"</p> + +<p>She smiled at him a little wanly.<!-- Page 106 --></p> + +<p>"I have told you that I didn't even dare to hope," she said. "But I want +to see—I want to see. I have tried sanatoriums and consulted +specialists until it has all become a nightmare to me and I am no +better—I sometimes think I never shall be any better."</p> + +<p>"But," exploded Thornton, rising from his chair, "that's nothing to do +with this—this is rank foolishness! Nurse, you—"</p> + +<p>Miss Harvey, too, had risen, and was regarding Mrs. Thornton anxiously.</p> + +<p>"It is better to humor her than to excite her," she said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton had dropped back on the couch and her face was turned away +from the others, but she stretched out her hand to her husband.</p> + +<p>"I am not asking very much, Robert, dear—am I?" she said. "Not very +much. Won't you do this for me?"</p> + +<p>Thornton bit his lips and scowled at the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be damned!" he muttered—and moving to the side of the car +pushed a bell-button viciously. "Sam," he snapped, as his colored man +appeared, "go and tell the conductor that I want my car put off on the +siding at Needley."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sah," said Sam.</p> + +<p>Thornton sat down again heavily.</p> + +<p>"Mabbe," announced the Flopper tactfully, "mabbe I'd better be gettin' +back to me valise—we're most dere, ain't we?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton turned toward him.<!-- Page 107 --></p> + +<p>"No; please don't go, Mr. Coogan—it's too hard for you to get through +the train. Sam will get your things as soon as he comes back. Do stay +right where you are until we get to Needley."</p> + +<p>"No; don't think of going, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton savagely.</p> + +<p>The Flopper looked at Mrs. Thornton gratefully, and at Mr. Thornton +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"T'anks!" said the Flopper pleasantly—and wriggled himself into a more +comfortable position in his chair.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, the train, that stopped only on signal to discharge +eastbound passengers from Portland, drew up at Needley—and Hiram +Higgins, on the platform, stared at a scene never before witnessed in +the history of the town.</p> + +<p>It was not one passenger, or two, or three, that alighted—they streamed +in a bewildering fashion from every vestibule of every car. It is true +that the majority got back into the train later, but that did not lessen +the effect any on Mr. Higgins. Mr. Higgins' jaw dropped, and he grabbed +at his chin whiskers for support.</p> + +<p>"Merciful daylights!" he breathed heavily. "Now what in the land's sakes +be it all about?" His eyes, following the hurrying passengers, fixed on +the twisted shape of the Flopper, being helped to the platform from the +private car.</p> + +<p>"Three cheers for Coogan!" yelled some excitable passenger.</p> + +<p>The cheers were given with a will.</p> + +<p>"Good luck to you, Coogan!" shouted another—and<!-- Page 108 --> the crowd took it up +in chorus: "Good luck to you, Coogan!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Coogan!</i>"—Mr. Higgins' face paled, and he took a firmer grip on his +whiskers. "Now if you ain't gone an' put your fool foot in it, Hiram +Higgins," he said miserably. "If that there's the fellow that you writ +to, you've just laid out to make a plumb fool of the Patriarch, 'cause I +reckon the Almighty knew His own mind when He made a critter like that, +an' didn't calc'late to have His work upsot much this side of the +grave—not even by the Patriarch."<!-- Page 109 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>—IX—</h2> + +<h4>THE PILGRIMAGE</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>Faith is an inheritance common to the human race; and the human race in +its daily life, in its daily dealings, man to man, could not go on +without it—but faith is a matter of degree. Faith, in the abstract, the +element of it, is inborn in every soul; and while dormant, until put to +a crucial test along any given line, is boundless and unlimited—a sort +of tacitly accepted, existing state, unquestioned. Faith in many is a +sturdy, virile thing—to a certain point. It is the fire that proves.</p> + +<p>Needley had faith in the Patriarch—a faith that never before had been +questioned. But Needley had more than that—Needley held the Patriarch +in affection, as a cherished thing, almost sacredly, almost as an idol. +Faith the simple people of Needley had always had—to a certain +point—but it faltered before this grotesque, inhuman, twisted shape +that squatted in the road before the Congress Hotel like a hideous +caricature of an abnormal toad. Their faith failed to bridge the span +that gave the Patriarch power over such as this, and they saw their idol +shattered<!-- Page 110 --> in their own eyes, and held up to mockery before the eyes of +these strangers who had so suddenly and tempestuously swarmed upon them.</p> + +<p>Hiram Higgins, seeking out Doc Madison inside the hotel, was in a state +bordering on distraction.</p> + +<p>"I druve him over from the station 'cause he couldn't walk, him an' a +man, an' two women, an' a wheel-chair," Mr. Higgins explained. "But +what's to be done now? He wants me to drive him out to the Patriarch's. +I got faith in the Patriarch, but I never said he could work +miracles—there ain't no one on earth could straighten that critter out. +Don't stand to reason that the Patriarch's to be made a fool of."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," agreed Madison emphatically. "It's most unfortunate. I +suppose all of us here in Needley"—he looked around at the assembled +group of leading citizens—"feel the same way, too?"</p> + +<p>"Of course we do," said Mr. Higgins helplessly. "Couldn't feel no ways +else."</p> + +<p>Madison laid his hand suddenly, impressively, upon Mr. Higgins' shoulder +and looked meaningly into Mr. Higgins' eyes—and into the eyes of the +selectmen, the overseers of the poor, the general-store proprietor, and +the school committee.</p> + +<p>"Don't drive him over, then," he said significantly. "Don't any of the +rest of you do it either—and tell everybody else not to. Make him +<i>crawl</i>. If he's determined to go, let him get<!-- Page 111 --> there by himself if he +can, make him crawl—he'll never be able to do it."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Mr. Higgins, brightening, while the others nodded; +then, dubiously: "But s'pose he <i>does</i> get there—how be we goin' to +stop him?"</p> + +<p>"If he can get there by himself you can't stop him," said Madison +seriously. "You can't do anything like that. To use force would be +carrying things too far, and would only place the Patriarch in a worse +light. If this fellow—what's his name?—Coogan?—can crawl there, let +him—that's his own business. None of <i>us</i> are encouraging him, the +Patriarch didn't ask him to come, and no one has a right to expect +miracles—so it can't hurt the Patriarch seriously under those +conditions. Besides, if this Coogan has got faith enough to crawl that +mile, who knows what might happen—make him crawl."</p> + +<p>Mr. Higgins, with a grim nod, headed a determined exodus from the hotel +office—and Madison strolled out onto the veranda.</p> + +<p>Needley was in a furor. The news spread like an oil-fed conflagration. +The farmers left their work in the fields and hurried into the village; +from the houses and cottages came the women and children to cluster +around the Congress Hotel; from the station, scarcely of less interest +to the inhabitants than the Flopper himself, straggled in those curious +enough to have left the train, nearly a dozen of them—and amongst them +Pale Face Harry coughed, as he trudged laboriously along.<!-- Page 112 --></p> + +<p>Larger and larger grew the circle around the Flopper, filling and +blocking the road, overflowing into front yards, and massing on the +little lawn of the hotel clear up to the veranda—until fields and +houses were deserted, and to the last inhabitant Needley was there.</p> + +<p>Upon the ground squatted the Flopper, his eyes sweeping the ring of +faces that was like a wall around him—the grinning faces of his fellow +passengers from the train; the stony, concerned and rather sullen faces +of the men of Needley; the anxious, excited faces of the women; the +bewildered, curious and somewhat frightened faces of the children, who +pushed and shoved their elders for better vantage ground.</p> + +<p>The Flopper licked his lips, and renewed the appeal he had been making +for nearly five minutes.</p> + +<p>"Ain't no one goin' to drive me out to de Patriarch's?"</p> + +<p>"Horses are all busy in the fields," said a voice, uncompromisingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Flopper, with bitter irony, "drivin' each other around, +while youse are here starin' at me an' won't help."</p> + +<p>His eyes caught Doc Madison's from the veranda and held an instant to +read a message and interpret the almost imperceptible, but significant, +movement of Madison's head.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" said the Flopper to himself, as his eyes swept the faces around +him again. "Dis is a nice game de Doc's planted on me—he wants<!-- Page 113 --> me to +do de wiggle out dere fer de rubes! Ain't dey a peachy lot—look at de +saucer eyes on de kids!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton, in her wheel-chair on the inner edge of the circle, +turned to her husband.</p> + +<p>"It's very strange that no one seems willing to drive him," she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not very," responded Thornton, with a short laugh. "I don't blame +them—they don't want this healer of theirs made a monkey of."</p> + +<p>"If no one will drive him, he shall have my wheel-chair," announced Mrs. +Thornton impulsively. "I think it is a perfect shame—the poor man!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Thornton gruffly. "You'll do nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Robert, I will," declared Mrs. Thornton with determination. She +leaned forward and called to the Flopper. "Mr. Coogan," she said +anxiously, "if you can't find any other way of getting out there, I want +you to take this chair of mine—you'll be able to manage with it, I am +sure."</p> + +<p>The Flopper looked at her with gratitude—but shook his head—mindful of +Doc Madison.</p> + +<p>"T'anks, mum," he said, "but I couldn't t'ink of it—you needs it more'n +me."</p> + +<p>"Please do," she insisted.</p> + +<p>"T'anks, mum," said the Flopper again, "but I couldn't. You needs it, +an' I can get along widout it. Dey're stallin' on me, but I can get dere +by myself if any one'll show me de way."<!-- Page 114 --></p> + +<p>"I'll show you, mister," piped a shrill voice—and young Holmes on his +crutch hopped into the circle. "I'll show you, mister—an' 'tain't fur, +neither."</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" muttered the Flopper, as he surveyed the lad. "Dis is de +limit fer fair!" Perturbed and uncertain what to do, he tried to catch +Doc Madison's eye again, but a movement in the crowd had hidden Madison.</p> + +<p>Some one in the crowd, the lingerie drummer, getting the grim humor of +the situation, laughed—and the laugh came like a challenge, taunting +the quick-tempered, turbulent soul of the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Come on, mister!" urged the boy excitedly. "'Tain't fur—I'll show +you."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, son," said the Flopper, while he flung an inward curse +at the man who had laughed. "Son, God bless you fer yer good heart—go +ahead—I'll stick to you."</p> + +<p>The crowd opened, making a lane through which the boy stumped on his +crutch, his face flushed and eager, and through which the Flopper +followed, slowly, rocking from side to side as he helped himself along +with the palm of his left hand flat in the dust of the road, trailing +his wobbling leg behind him.</p> + +<p>The crowd closed in behind and moved forward.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton's face was fever-flushed, her eyes bright; in her weak +state she was on the verge of nervous hysteria.<!-- Page 115 --></p> + +<p>"I want to go, Robert," she cried. "I must go."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear," protested Thornton harshly, "this is simply the height +of absurdity. For Heaven's sake be sensible, Naida. Just imagine what +people would say if they saw us here with this outfit of idiots—they'd +think we'd gone mad."</p> + +<p>"I don't care what they'd think," she returned feverishly, her frail +fingers plucking nervously at the arms of her chair. "I must go—I +must—I must."</p> + +<p>Thornton glanced at the nurse, then stared at his wife—Miss Harvey's +meaning look was hardly necessary to drive home to him the fact that +Mrs. Thornton was in no condition to be denied anything.</p> + +<p>Red-faced, Thornton strode to the back of the chair and began to push it +along.</p> + +<p>"Of all the damned foolishness that ever I heard of," he gritted +savagely, "this is the worst!" His face went redder still with +mortification. "If this ever leaks out I'll never hear the last of it. +Look at us—bringing up the rear of a gibbering mob of yokels! We're fit +for a padded cell!"</p> + +<p>In the crowd, Madison rubbed shoulders for a moment with Pale Face +Harry.</p> + +<p>"Who's the party with the wheel-chair behind?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Millionaire—Chicago—private car—Flopper's got the wife going +hard—rode down<!-- Page 116 --> with them," coughed Pale Face Harry behind his hand.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll get acquainted," said Madison. "Circulate, Harry, and +cough your head off—don't hide your light under a bushel—circulate." +And Madison fell back to scrape acquaintance with the man of millions.</p> + +<p>Close-packed upon the road, the procession spread out for a hundred +yards behind the Flopper—bare-footed children; women in multi-colored +gingham and calico; men in the uncouth dress of the fields, the +uncouthness accentuated by the sprinkling of more pretentious clothing +worn by those who had come from the train. And slowly, very slowly, this +conglomerate human cosmorama moved on, undulating queerly with the +variant movements of its component parts, snail-like, for the Flopper's +pace was slow—as strange a spectacle, perhaps, as the human eye had +ever witnessed, something of grimness, something of humor, something of +awe, something of fear exuding from it—it seemed to contain within +itself the range, and to express, the gamut of all human emotion.</p> + +<p>On the procession went—so slowly as to be almost sinister in its +movement. And a strange sound rose from it and seemed to float and hover +over it like a weird, invisible, acoustic canopy. Three hundred voices, +men's, women's and children's, rose and fell, rose and fell—at first in +a medley of scoffings, laughter, sullen murmurs, earnest dispute and +children's prattle—a strange<!-- Page 117 --> composite sound indeed! But as the +minutes passed and the mass moved on and stopped as the Flopper paused +to rest, and moved on and stopped and moved on again, gradually this +changed, very gradually, not abruptly, but as though the scoffings and +the laughter were dying away almost imperceptibly in the distance. For +as the Flopper stopped to rest, those near him gazed upon his face, +distorted, full of muscular distress, sweat pouring from his forehead, +pain and suffering written in every lineament—and drew back whispering +into the crowd, giving place to others until all had seen. And so the +strange sound from this strange congregation grew lower, until it was a +sort of breathless, long-sustained and wavering note, a prescience, a +premonition of something to come, a ghastly mockery or a tragedy to +befall, until it was an awe-struck murmuring thing.</p> + +<p>Some spoke to him now and in pity offered to get him a horse and wagon, +offered even to carry him—but the Flopper shook his head.</p> + +<p>"'Tain't goin' to be but a few minutes now," he panted in an exalted +voice, "before I'm cured—I got de faith to know dat—I got de faith."</p> + +<p>And the crippled lad upon the crutch beside him urged him on. The boy's +face was strained and eager, full of mingled emotions—pride in the +leading part he played, wonder and expectancy.</p> + +<p>"Come on, mister, come on!" he kept saying, impatiently accommodating +his own restricted pace to the Flopper's still slower one.<!-- Page 118 --></p> + +<p>Through the wagon track, through the woods beneath the trees, the dead, +slow, shuffling tread went on—and now even the murmuring sound was +hushed. Men and women stared into each other's faces—children sought +their elders' hands. What did it mean? Faith—yes, they had had +faith—but never faith like this. They looked at the awful deformity +over one another's heads, crawling inch by inch along before +them—watched the stubborn, bitter struggle of pain and suffering of the +wretched man who led them, spurred on by a faith cast in a heroic mold +such as none there had ever dreamed of before—and they spoke no more. +There was only the sound of movement now—and that curiously subdued. +Men seemed to choose their footing, seeking to tread noiselessly, as +though in some solemn presence that awed them and held them in an +intangible, heart-quickening suspense.</p> + +<p>Onward they went—following the lurching, wriggling, reeling, broken +thing before them—following the Flopper, his right hand and arm curved +piteously inward to his chin, his neck thrown sideways, his sagging leg +seeming to hold only to his body by spasmodic jerks to catch up with the +body itself, like the steel when detached from the magnet that bounds +forward to re-attach itself again, his eyes starting from his head, his +face bloodless with exertion and twisted as fearfully as were his limbs, +but upon his lips a smile of resolution, of indomitable assurance.</p> + +<p>Onward they went—a huddled mass of humanity,<!-- Page 119 --> literate and illiterate, +of all ages, of all conditions, and none laughed, none grinned, none +smiled, none spoke—all that was past. They stopped, they moved +again—as the Flopper stopped and moved. Occasionally a child cried +out—occasionally there came a discordant, racking cough—that was all.</p> + +<p>Tenser grew the very atmosphere they breathed—heavier upon them fell +the sense of something almost supernatural, beyond the human and the +finite. Skeptic and faint believer, sinner, Christian and scoffer, they +were all alike now in the presence of a faith whose evidence was before +them in harrowing vividness, in the torment and agony of a fellow +creature who sought again through faith a restoration to the image of +his kind. There was no creed, no school of ethical belief, no +conflicting orthodoxy to quibble over, no ground on which atheist and +theologian even might stand apart—there was only <i>faith</i>—a faith whose +trappings none might take issue with, for it was naked faith and the +trappings were stripped from it—it was faith in its very essence, +boundless, utter, simple, limitless, staggering, appalling them.</p> + +<p>Its consummation? That was another thing—a thing that in the presence +of such faith as this brought human pity, sympathy and sorrow to its +full, brought dread and terror. Faith such as this they had never +conceived; faith such as this, if it was to prove a shattered thing, was +for its exponent to drink the very dregs of misery and<!-- Page 120 --> despair—and +yet, rising above that possibility, flinging grim challenge at their +doubts, stood this very faith, mighty in itself, perfect in its +confidence, heroic in its agony, that all might gaze upon from a common +standpoint and know—as faith.</p> + +<p>No whispering breeze stirred the young leaves in the trees; in the +stillness of the afternoon came only the heavy, pulsing throb of +Nature's breathing. One hundred, two, three hundred, they moved along, +slow, sinuous, troubled, their eyes straight before them or upon the +ground at their feet—only the children looked with frightened, startled +eyes into their parents' faces, and clung the closer.</p> + +<p>Out upon the wagon track they debouched and spread in a long, thin line +beneath the maples on either side of the Flopper—and waited.<!-- Page 121 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>—X—</h2> + +<h4>THE MIRACLE</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>There was utter silence now—the tread of shuffling feet was gone—no +man moved—it seemed as though no man <i>breathed</i>—they stood as carven +things, inanimate, men, women and children strained forward, their faces +drawn, tense and rigid. In the very air, around them, everywhere, +imprisoning them, clutching like an icy hand at the heart, something +unseen, a dread, intangible presence weighed them down and lay heavy +upon them. What was to come? What drear tragedy was to be enacted? What +awful mockery was to fall upon this maimed and mutilated creature within +whose deformed and pitiful body there too was a human soul?</p> + +<p>From the cottage door across the lawn came two figures—a girl in +simple, clinging white, her head bowed, the sun itself seeming to caress +the dark brown wealth of hair upon her head, changing it to glinting +strands of burnished copper; and beside her walked the Patriarch, his +hand resting lightly upon her arm, a wondrous figure of a man, majestic, +simple, grand, his silvered-hair bared to the sun, his face illumined.<!-- Page 122 --></p> + +<p>"There he is, mister!" whispered young Holmes hoarsely. "There he is! Go +on, mister, go on—see what he can do for you!"</p> + +<p>There came a sound that was like a great, gasping intake of breath, as +men and women watched. Out toward the Patriarch, alone now, the Flopper +began to wriggle and writhe his way along. God in Heaven have pity! What +was this sight they looked upon—this poor, distorted, mangled thing +that grovelled in the earth—that figure towering there in the sunlight +with venerable white beard and hair, erect, symbolic of some strange, +mystic power that awed them, his head turned slightly in a curious +listening attitude, the sightless eyes closed, upon the face a great +calm like a solemn benediction.</p> + +<p>Fell a stillness that was as the stillness of death; came a hush until +in men's ears was the quick, fierce pound and throb of their own hearts. +On, on toward the Patriarch slithered and twisted that frightful +deformity that they had followed over that long, torturing mile—on, on +he went, and they watched scarce drawing breath, their faces white, +their very limbs held as in a palsied, fearsome spell—and then, sudden, +abrupt, terrifying, there rose a shriek, wild, hysterical, prolonged, in +a woman's voice, the cadence wavering from guttural to shrill and ending +in a high-pitched, broken scream.</p> + +<p>The Flopper halted and turned himself about, while his left hand swept +his livid face, brushing from it the spurting drops, sweeping back the<!-- Page 123 --> +damp, tangled hair from his eyes—faced them till they saw an agony on +human countenance that struck, stabbing, to their souls—faced them +while his eyes traversed the long, long line of ghastly white faces +before him, out of which eyes everywhere, row on row of them, straining, +fixed, fascinated, seemed to burn like living fires as they held him in +their focus.</p> + +<p>He had not gone far, perhaps ten yards—no more. By the group around the +wheel-chair, almost in the center of the line, stood Madison, his chin +in his hand in a meditative, thoughtful attitude, the single soul who +watched the scene from under lowered lids; Thornton had involuntarily +edged a little forward from behind the chair until he stood now at its +side in a strange, abashed way as though his own personality were +over-ruled, obliterated, his face with a white sternness upon it, his +eyes, like all other eyes, agleam with an unnatural fire; Mrs. Thornton +had pulled herself forward in the chair, one hand clutching at her +breast, the frail fingers of the other woven in a grasp so tight around +the arm of the chair that the flesh was bloodless; a little way off, a +group of three, the two salesmen and the metropolitan newspaper man, +seemed as though stricken into stone, stripped of all assurance, all +complacence, awed, tense, palpitant, as the patched, bare-legged +tatterdemalion of ten from the fields, that stood beside them, was awed +and tense and palpitant.</p> + +<p>And away on either side stretched the line of white, rigid faces, the +never-ending, burning eyes—but<!-- Page 124 --> the silence with that shriek was gone +now, for another woman and another, overwrought, needing but that sudden +shock to unnerve them utterly, shrieked in turn—and through the line +seemed to run a shudder, and it moved a little though no foot stirred, +moved with a strange, sinuous, rocking, swaying movement, from the hips, +backward and forward and to either side. Men raised their eyes, stole +frightened, questioning glances at their neighbors—and fixed their eyes +on the Flopper again—on the Flopper and that majestic figure in the +center of the lawn, so calm of mien, of attitude and pose.</p> + +<p>Once again the Flopper's eyes swept the scene. A few feet in advance of +the crowd, as though drawn irresistibly forward, young Holmes hung upon +his crutch. The boy's soul seemed in his face—hope, a world of it, as +he gazed at the Patriarch, sickening fear as he looked at the Flopper; +his lips moving without sound, his body trembling with emotional +excitement. Still once again the Flopper's eyes swept the line of men +and women and children, fast reaching toward a common ungovernable +hysteria—and then he turned with an unbalanced, impotent, broken +movement, flung out his good arm toward the Patriarch in piteous +supplication, and, jerking himself forward, went on.</p> + +<p>Slowly, very slowly at first, he resumed his way, crawling it seemed by +no more than a painful inch on inch, in mortal pain, in mortal agony and +struggle—then gradually his movements began to quicken, as though +growing upon him were a mad,<!-- Page 125 --> elated haste that he could not +control—quicker and quicker he went, pitching and lurching wildly; from +a pace that was beyond him.</p> + +<p>A strange, low, moaning sound rose from behind him, fluttering, +inarticulate, that voiceless utterance that seeks to find some vent for +human emotion when human emotion sweeps with mighty surge to engulf the +soul. It rose and died away and rose again—and died away—and children +began to whimper with a fear and terror that they did not understand, +and seeking solace in their elders' faces found added cause for fear +instead.</p> + +<p>Nearer to that saintly figure who stood so calm, so quiet, the massive +white-locked head still turned a little in that curious listening +attitude, beside whom, close drawn now, was that white-clad girlish +form, whose eyes were lowered, whose sweet face seemed to hold a heaven +of pity and infinite compassion, upon whose lips there was a smile of +divine tenderness, drew that piteous mockery of the image of a man, +whose every movement appeared one of agony beyond human power to +endure—and the agony found echo in the watchers' souls, and a low, +muffled groan as of men in pain and hurt, ran tremulously along the +line.</p> + +<p>Still nearer to the Patriarch drew the Flopper. More heart-rending was +his every movement, for with his quickened pace he sought to move +without the aid of the only member that was as other men's, his left +hand and arm that, in pleading, yearning supplication, was stretched out +before him to the Patriarch.<!-- Page 126 --></p> + +<p>The extreme ends of the long line of watchers curled a little inward, +almost imperceptibly, a half step taken without volition. The crippled +boy, swaying upon his crutch, his lips parted, trembling in every limb, +edged forward hesitantly, fearfully, now a foot, now another, now the +bare space of a single inch. And now down the entire length of the line +from end to end that wavering, rocking movement in swaying, pregnant +unison grew stronger—men knew not what they did—it seemed the very air +they breathed must smother them—and, in that dull, weird, lingering +note, rose again the sound of moaning that seemed to beat in consonance +with the distant mournful rhythm of the endless beat of surf on shore.</p> + +<p>Women clutched at their breasts now; men's knuckles went white beneath +the tight-drawn skin; the children drew behind their mothers' skirts +and, terror-stricken, cried aloud. Surcharged, on the edge, the bare and +ragged edge of frenzy now was every man and woman in the crowd. It was a +sight, a spectacle that racked them in every fibre of their beings, that +stirred them to pity, to hope, to fear, until the awful misery of this +blighted and crawling thing was their own in its every twitch of +agony—that struck them with a terror, the greater because it was +indefinable, a prescience, a reaching out beyond human realm, the +invoking of a supernal power—the thought of which very power, once +loosed, chilled them with panic-dread.</p> + +<p>Yet still they watched—it was beyond their<!-- Page 127 --> power to turn their +eyes—enthralled, a moaning, swaying, rocking mob, they watched. Madness +was creeping upon them rampant. Like a mighty tide, the ocean weight +behind it, hurling itself against flood-gates that could never stand, it +mounted higher and higher; and already, as the water first seeps between +the gates, grim forecast of what was to come, it showed itself now in +that long, sobbing, convulsive inhalation, in that strange, sinuous, +restless movement.</p> + +<p>On went the Flopper. There was still a yard to go—two feet—<i>one</i>. +Stopped in a sudden deathless hush was all sound. The Flopper flung +himself forward upon his face at the Patriarch's feet. Stopped was all +movement, haggard and tense every face, strained every eye. For a moment +that seemed to span eternity, in a huddled heap, that crippled, twisted +thing lay there before them motionless, without sign of life—the +venerable face above it, still intent, still listening, turned slowly +downwards. Then there was a movement, a movement that blanched the +watching faces to a more pallid white—that dangling, wobbling leg drew +inward slowly, very slowly, and hip and knee, as though guided by some +mighty power, immutable, supreme, came deliberately into normal form.</p> + +<p>A shriek, a cry, a wail, a sob, a prayer—it came now +unrestrained—hysteria was loosed in a mad ungovernable orgasm—men +clutched at each other and cowered, hiding their faces with their +hands—women dropped to their knees and,<!-- Page 128 --> sobbing, screaming, prayed. +Loud it rose, the turmoil of human souls aghast and quailing before a +manifestation that seemed to fling them face to face, uncovered, naked, +before the awful power and majesty and might of Heaven itself.</p> + +<p>They looked again—fearfully. The twisted thing was standing now, +standing but still deformed—with crooked neck, with curved, bent, +palsied arm. And nearer had drawn little Holmes, his head thrust +forward, shaking as with the ague as he gazed on the group before him, +oblivious to all else around him.</p> + +<p>A twinge of frightful torture swept the Flopper's face—and with that +same slow, awful deliberation the misshapen arm straightened out. Men +cried aloud again and again—a woman fainted, another here, another +there—children wailed and ran, some shrieking, some whimpering, for the +woods.</p> + +<p>Again the spasm crossed the Flopper's face, a shuddering, muscular +contortion—and from the shoulder rose his head.</p> + +<p>Inward drew the ends of the line of paroxysm-stricken people—not far, +not near to that hallowed group for something held them back; but inward +gradually until the line, no longer straight, was half a circle, +crescent shaped. Louder came that harrowing medley of sounds, its +component parts voicing the uttermost depths of the soul of each +separate individual man and woman there—some moaned in terror; some +prayed, mumbling, still upon their knees; some laughed hoarsely,<!-- Page 129 --> +wildly, their senses for the moment gone; and some were dumb; and some +shrieked their prayers in frenzy. Louder it grew—the end had come—that +deformed thing stood erect, a perfect man—he turned his face toward +them—he stretched out his arms—and they answered him with their wails, +their sobs, their moans, their cries—they answered him in their terror, +in their shaken senses, clutching at each other again—answered him from +their knees, their voices hoarse—answered him with trembling lips and +tongues that would not move.</p> + +<p>And then suddenly, as though riven where they stood and kneeled and +crouched, all movement ceased—and every heart stood still as ringing +clear above all else, shocking all else to stunned, petrified silence, +there came a cry—a cry in a young voice. It rang again and again, +trembling with glad, new life, vibrant, a cry that seemed to thrill with +chords of happiness and ecstasy immeasurable. Again it came, again, +exultant, pulsing with a mighty joy—young Holmes had <i>flung his crutch +from him</i>, and, with outstretched arms, was running toward the Patriarch +across the lawn.</p> + +<p>For an instant more that stunned, awed silence held. All eyes were +riveted and fixed upon the scene—none looked at Madison—if any had +they would have seen that his face had gone an ivory white.<!-- Page 130 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>—XI—</h2> + +<h4>THE AFTERMATH</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>"I am cured, Robert! Robert! Robert! See, I too am cured! Oh, Robert, +what wondrous joy!"—Mrs. Thornton had left her wheel-chair and was +standing beside her husband, standing alone, unaided for the first time +in many months.</p> + +<p>"Naida!"—it was a hoarse cry from Thornton. Then his hand passed +heavily across his face as though to force his brain to coherent action, +to lift the spell of what seemed a wild phantasm in all around him. +"Naida!"—he sought now to control his voice—"Naida, get back into your +chair again."</p> + +<p>She laughed—a little hysterically—but in the laugh too was the uplift +of a soul enraptured.</p> + +<p>"But I am cured, Robert. See, dear, can't you understand?" She shook his +arm. "See—I am cured. I can walk just as I could before I was ill. Oh, +Robert, Robert! See! See!"—she went from him, walking a little, running +a little—and laughing in a low, rippling, glorious laugh that was like +the music of silver chimes ringing out in glad acclaim.</p> + +<p>He stared at her, both hands now to his temples;<!-- Page 131 --> then he turned to look +strangely at the empty chair—but it was not empty. Miss Harvey, the +nurse, on her knees, had flung herself across it and, with buried head, +was sobbing unrestrainedly.</p> + +<p>And now upon the lawn was a scene indescribable. The long line was +broken. Men and women ran hither and thither, for the most part +aimlessly, as though in some strange state of coma where the mind +refused its functions. They talked and cried and shouted at each other +in frenzy without knowing what they said—some with tears raining down +their faces, others with blank countenances, no sign of emotion upon +them other than in their wild, dilated eyes. Here and there they rushed +without volition, their throat-noises rising above them, floating +through the still air in a sound that no ear had ever heard before, +weird, terrifying, without license, beyond control. Like mad creatures +rushing against each other in the dark they were, stupified by a sight +that was no mortal sight, a sight that blinded them mentally because it +was no <i>human</i> sight.</p> + +<p>Faith? Faith is a matter of degree, is it not?</p> + +<p>Or is it at its full in power and efficacy at moments when hysteria in +paroxysm is at its height? Who shall define faith? Who shall say what it +is, and who shall place its limitations upon it?</p> + +<p>Out in the center of the lawn young Holmes was in his mother's arms, the +father pathetically trying to wrap both mother and child in his own. +Around them, attracted in that strange uncertain way, the crowd +constantly grew larger. Further<!-- Page 132 --> out again, Helena was leading the +Patriarch toward the cottage, the Flopper close behind her—the +Patriarch walking with a slow tread, his head still turned a little in +that listening attitude—and at a distance followed a straggling crowd. +Then the cottage door was shut—and Helena, the Patriarch and the +Flopper disappeared from view.</p> + +<p>A dozen yards from the wheel-chair stood Madison, riveted to the spot, +motionless save for a nervous twitching of the lips, his eyes, now upon +the invalid who walked about, now on the little lad who had thrown away +his crutch. Some one plucked at his sleeve, but Madison gave no +heed—again his arm was pulled, and he turned to look into Pale Face +Harry's face. The other's countenance was gray, the eyes full of a +shrinking, terrified light.</p> + +<p>"Doc, for God's sake, Doc, what's it mean?" whispered Pale Face Harry +shakily, moistening his dry lips with his tongue. "Doc, this ain't no +bunk—there's something in it."</p> + +<p>The words seemed to rouse Madison—to leadership. He stared at Pale Face +Harry for a moment, then a grim smile flickered across his face.</p> + +<p>"Something in it!" he repeated with an ironic laugh—and suddenly +grabbed Pale Face Harry's arm and shook him. "There's so much in it that +I'm drunk with it, crazy with it—but I'm trying to make myself believe +it isn't too good to be true. Get that? Get a grip on that, and hang on. +Don't lose your nerve, Harry!"<!-- Page 133 --></p> + +<p>"I guess I ain't much worse than you," mumbled Pale Face Harry. "You're +whiter than a sheet."</p> + +<p>"You're right," admitted Madison frankly. "I'm queer, but I'm coming +around. Helena seems to be the only one who never lost her grip—she's +got the Patriarch and the Flopper out of the way and under cover. Brace +up, Harry—what I thought we'd get in the Roost that night is +counterfeit money to what'll come from this." His eyes fastened on a +figure that, separating itself from the group around young Holmes, now +dashed frantically, hatless, and with dishevelled hair to Mr. and Mrs. +Thornton. "Who's that, Harry? He came down on the train with you—know +him?"</p> + +<p>"He's only some newspaper guy or other," answered Pale Face Harry +mechanically, his eyes still roving wildly over the scene around him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that <i>all</i>!" ejaculated Madison with a little gasp. "I've +already exhausted my thanks to Santa Claus and here he comes with +another package done up in dinky pink paper tied with baby ribbon—and +the gold platter it's on goes with it!"</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean?" asked Pale Face Harry heavily.</p> + +<p>The newspaper man, the instinct of his calling now rising paramount to +all else, had left the Thorntons and was tearing for the wagon track on +his way to the station and the telegraph office like one possessed.<!-- Page 134 --></p> + +<p>"By to-morrow morning," said Madison softly, "the missionaries will be +explaining this to the Esquimaux at Oo-lou-lou, the near-invalids in +California will be packing their trunks, likewise those in the languid +shade of the Florida palms; they'll be listing it on the stock exchange +in New York, and the breath of Eden will waft itself o'er plain and +valley until—" he stopped suddenly, as Mrs. Thornton's voice reached +him.</p> + +<p>"I am going to <i>walk</i> back, Robert."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but, Naida," Thornton protested, "you're not strong enough yet."</p> + +<p>"Don't you understand?" she cried, half laughing, half sobbing. "There +is no 'yet'—I am cured, dear—<i>all</i> cured. I'm well and strong. Try to +understand, Robert—oh, I'm so happy, so—so thankful. I know it's +miraculous, that it's almost impossible to believe—but try to +understand."</p> + +<p>"I am trying to," said Thornton numbly, watching her as she moved about. +"And it seems as though I were in a dream—that this isn't real—that +you're not real."</p> + +<p>"It's not a dream," she said. "Oh, I'm so strong again. Why, Robert, it +would be just as absurd for me to be wheeled back in that chair as for +you to be—and besides I have no right to do that now. It would be a +sacrilege, profaning the gratitude in my heart—I am cured and these +poor people here must see that I am cured—Robert, we must leave that +wheel-chair here that others, poor sufferers who will come now, will see +and believe<!-- Page 135 --> and be cured too. And, Robert, in some way, I do not know +just how, we who are rich must do something to help people to get here."</p> + +<p>"Naida," said Thornton, his voice low, shaken, "I feel as though I were +in another world. I have seen what I can hardly make myself believe that +I have seen. I can't explain—I am speaking, but my very voice seems +strange to me. I feel as you do about helping others—how could I feel +otherwise? What we could do I do not know as yet, either—but I will do +anything. I was a scoffing fool—and you were cured before my eyes—a +boy was cured—and that other, deformed as no creature was ever deformed +before, was cured"—Thornton's lips quivered, and he hid his face in his +hands.</p> + +<p>"While the iron is hot—strike," murmured Madison. He gazed a moment +longer at the group—Mrs. Thornton's hand was on her husband's shoulder +now—then his eyes roved over the frenzied scenes still being enacted +everywhere upon the lawn. "I wonder?" he muttered. The frown on his +forehead cleared suddenly. "Of course!" said he to Pale Face Harry. +"It's a cinch—it's as good as done!"</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry stared at him queerly.</p> + +<p>"No, Harry," smiled Madison, "my pulse is quite normal now, thank you. +Listen. This is where we call the first showdown on cold hands—and the +dealer slips himself an ace." He drew a key from his pocket and put it +in Pale Face Harry's hand. "That's the key of the small trunk in my<!-- Page 136 --> +room at the hotel—front room, right hand side of the hall. There's a +check-book in the tray—and I'll give you twenty minutes to get back +here with it. You'll find me somewhere around here, but you needn't let +the whole earth in on the presentation—see? Now beat it!"</p> + +<p>As Pale Face Harry hurried away, Madison, seemingly as aimless, as +hysterical as the hundreds about him, moved here and there, but +unostentatiously he kept nearing the upper end of the lawn, and, +finally, hidden by the woodshed at the further end of the cottage, he +slipped quickly around to the rear. Here the garden stretched almost to +the edge of the sandy beach—not a soul was in sight—and the beat of +the surf deadened the sound from the front lawn to little more than a +low, indistinct murmur.</p> + +<p>Quickly now, Madison stepped to where one of the old-fashioned windows, +that swung inward from the center like double doors, was open, and, +reaching in his hand, tapped sharply twice in succession with his +knuckles on the pane. The sill was not quite on a level with his +shoulders and he could see inside—it was Helena's room, and the door to +the hall was open. Again he knocked. Came then the sound of +footsteps—and from the hall the Flopper's face peered cautiously around +the jamb of the door.</p> + +<p>"Tell Helena to come here," called Madison softly.</p> + +<p>The Flopper turned his head, called obediently, and in a dazed sort of +way came himself to the<!-- Page 137 --> window. His face was haggard, and he shivered +as he licked his lips.</p> + +<p>"I pulled de stunt," said the Flopper in a croaking voice, "but de +kid—Doc—did youse see de kid? I got de shakes—it's like de whole of +hell an' de other place was loose, an' Helena's gone batty, an'—pipe +her, dere she is."</p> + +<p>Into the room came Helena, her face like chalk—all color gone from even +her lips. She clutched at the window beside the Flopper for support.</p> + +<p>"I'm frightened," she whispered. "We've gone too far—it's—it's—John +Madison, I'm frightened."</p> + +<p>Madison did not speak for a moment—Madison was a consummate leader. He +looked, smiling reassuringly, from one to the other—and then leaned +soothingly, confidentially, in over the sill.</p> + +<p>"I know how you feel—felt just the same myself for a bit," said he +quietly. "But now look here, you've got to pull yourselves +together—there's nothing to be afraid of. It's natural enough. It's +faith, Helena—and that's what we were banking on—only not quite so +hard. That kid and Mrs. Thornton annexed the real brand, that's all—and +when the genuine thing is on tap I cross my fingers and yell for +faith—there's nothing to stop it. And that's the way it's got both of +you too, eh? Well, that only makes our game the safer and the more +certain, doesn't it? So, come on now, pull yourselves together."</p> + +<p>"In de last act when I was gettin' me head into<!-- Page 138 --> joint," mumbled the +Flopper, "was when de kid yelled—I can hear it yet, an'—"</p> + +<p>"Forget it!" Madison broke in a little sharply; then, tactfully, his +voice full of unbounded admiration: "You're an artist, Flopper—a +wonder. You pulled the greatest act that was ever on the boards, and you +pulled it as no other man on earth could have pulled it. Flopper, you +make me feel humble when I look at you."</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" said the Flopper, brightening. "D'ye mean it, Doc—honest?"</p> + +<p>"Mean it!" ejaculated Madison. "You're the whole thing, Flopper—you +win. Come on now, Helena, buck up—we've got another little act due in +about fifteen minutes—don't let a lot of yowling rubes get your goat. +Why, say, we've got the whole show on the stampede—and we've got to +rush our luck."</p> + +<p>"Sure!" said the Flopper. "Dat's de way to talk—leave it to de Doc +every time—. I ain't feazed half de way I was."</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," said Helena a little tremulously. "What is it we're to +do?"</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Madison, smiling at her approvingly. "That sounds better. +Now listen—and listen hard. From this minute this cottage is the +Shrine. Get that?—Shrine. You've got to keep the hush falling here, and +keep it falling all the time—a sort of holy, hallowed silence, +understand? Lay it on thick—make the crowd stand back—make the guy +that comes in here feel as though he ought to come in on his knees and +as if<!-- Page 139 --> he'd be struck dead if he didn't. Get the slow music and the low +lights working. And keep the Patriarch well back of the drop except when +he's on for a turn. Get me? He's no side-show with a barker in front of +the tent—don't forget that for a minute. The harder it is to see the +Patriarch and the less he's seen, the bigger he plays up when he's on. +He goes to no man under any conditions, and the only man or woman that +gets to him is through faith and supplication, and a double order of it +at that. Keep the solemn, breathless tap turned on all the time."</p> + +<p>Helena looked at him with a strange little smile quivering on her lips.</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing I've got a sense of humor," she said slowly, "or else +I think I'd—I'd—"</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't," said Madison cheerfully. "But time's flying. You're +going to have visitors in a few minutes, and here's where the Patriarch +gets tucked away out of sight behind the veil for a starter, leaving his +presence hovering and throbbing all around in the air—you stay with +him, Flopper, in a back room somewhere and hold his hand. Where is he +now?"</p> + +<p>"In his armchair in the sitting-room," said Helena. "And he's still +listening in that queer way he did out on the lawn. I think he knows in +a little way what's happened."</p> + +<p>"That's good," said Madison; "it'll make him happy. Well, lead him +gently into retirement. I guess that's all—now hurry."</p> + +<p>"Who is it that's coming?" interposed Helena<!-- Page 140 --> quickly, as Madison +started away from the window.</p> + +<p>Madison grinned.</p> + +<p>"Some friends of the Hopper's. Mr. and Mrs. Thankoffering—you'll like +them immensely, Helena. The lady walks quite well now, and—"</p> + +<p>"Walks!" exclaimed the Flopper, who evidently had not assimilated +Madison's previous reference to Mrs. Thornton. "De lady dat I come wid +in de private car—<i>walks</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Madison pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Cured? All cured?" gasped the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Madison again—complacently.</p> + +<p>"Say," said the Flopper, "say, I'm goin' dippy. Another one de same as +de kid, Doc?"</p> + +<p>"Same as the kid, Flopper—faith."</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" said the Flopper helplessly.<!-- Page 141 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>—XII—</h2> + +<h4>"SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY"</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>By the wheel-chair, Mrs. Thornton, her husband and Doc Madison were in +earnest conversation—and around them was a mass of people. The crowd +had divided into two, or, rather, was constantly coming and going +between two points—young Holmes and Mrs. Thornton—and still the +hysteria was upon men and women, still that wavering, moanlike sound +floated over the lawn.</p> + +<p>"I am stunned and stupified," Madison was saying, and his hand trembled +visibly in its outflung gesture. "I am not, I am afraid, a man of deep +sensibilities, but I cannot help feeling that I have been permitted, +been chosen even, to witness this sight, a sight that will stay with me +till I die, for some great, ulterior purpose. It's as though this place +were hallowed, set apart; that here, if only one has faith, that man's +miraculous power is boundless—that I should help someway. I—I'm afraid +I don't explain myself well."</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," Mrs. Thornton returned eagerly. "It is what I +was saying to my husband—to make this place known, to help to bring +suffering people here."<!-- Page 142 --></p> + +<p>Madison nodded silently.</p> + +<p>"And if you, who have no personal cause for gratitude, feel like that, +how much more should we who—who—oh, there are no words to tell it—my +heart is too full"—Mrs. Thornton smiled through tears. "Robert, you +said you would do anything."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," Thornton answered gravely. "But what? We cannot do things +in a moment. If money—"</p> + +<p>Madison shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It's beyond money," he said. "Money is only a secondary consideration. +It's the needs of the place that are paramount. It's not so much the +bringing of people here—they will hear of what has taken place and will +come of their own accord, they will flock here in numbers as time goes +on. But then—what? What can be done with them in this little village? +For a time perhaps they could be accommodated—but after that they must +be turned away."</p> + +<p>"Turned away!" exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, in a hurt cry. "Turned away from +hope—to bitterness and misery again! No, no, they must not I Why"—she +grasped her husband's arm agitatedly—"why couldn't we buy land and put +little houses upon it where they could stay?"</p> + +<p>Madison leaned suddenly toward her.</p> + +<p>"I believe you've hit on the idea, Mrs. Thornton," he said excitedly. +"Why not? It would be the finest thing that was ever done in the world. +But why not go further—this should not be a<!-- Page 143 --> private enterprise with +the burden on the few." He turned abruptly to Mr. Thornton. "What a +monument from grateful hearts, what a tribute to that saintly soul a +huge sanatorium, built and properly endowed, would be! And it is +feasible—purely from the voluntary contributions of those who come here +and have money—free as the air to the poor who are sick—free to <i>all</i>, +for that matter—no one asked to give—but the poorest would gladly lay +down their mites."</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh, yes!" cried Mrs. Thornton raptly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," admitted Mr. Thornton thoughtfully; "that might be done."</p> + +<p>"There is no doubt of it," asserted Madison enthusiastically. "It needs +but the initiative on the part of some one, on our part, and the rest +will take care of itself. But we must, of course, have the endorsement +of the Patriarch—why not go to the cottage now, at once, and talk it +over?"</p> + +<p>"Can we see <i>him</i>?" asked Mrs. Thornton wistfully. "Oh, I would like to +kneel at his feet and pour out my gratitude. But see how all these +people go no nearer than that row of trees, as though love or fear or +reverence kept them from going further, as though it were almost +forbidden, holy ground, as though they were held back by an invisible +barrier in spite of themselves."</p> + +<p>"True," said Madison; "and I sense that very thing myself—all men must +sense it after what has taken place, all must feel the presence of a +power too majestic, too full of awe for the mind to grasp. This +faith"—he threw out his hands<!-- Page 144 --> in an impotent gesture—"we can only +accept it unquestioningly, as a mighty thing, an actual, living, +existent thing, even if we cannot fully understand. But I feel that with +what we have in mind we have a right to go there now—and we should take +that little lad who was cured as well—and his parents, they should come +too."</p> + +<p>"And shall we see <i>him</i>?" Mrs. Thornton asked again tensely.</p> + +<p>"Why, I do not know," Madison replied; "but at least we shall see his +niece, Miss Vail, and it is with her in any case that we would have to +discuss the plan, for the Patriarch, you know, is deaf and dumb and +blind."</p> + +<p>"You know them, don't you?" Thornton inquired.</p> + +<p>Madison smiled, a little strangely, a little deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"If one can speak of 'knowing' such as they—yes," he answered. "When I +came two weeks ago, the Patriarch was not wholly blind, and he was very +kind to me. I learned to love the gentle soul of the man, and in a way, +skeptical though I was, I felt his power—but I never realized until +this afternoon how stupendous, how immeasurable it was."</p> + +<p>"Let us go to the cottage, then," said Thornton. "Naida, dear, let me +help you; it is quite a little distance and—"</p> + +<p>She put out her hands in a happy, intimate way to hold him off.</p> + +<p>"You can't realize it, Robert, can you? That<!-- Page 145 --> dear, practical business +head of yours makes it even harder for you than it is for me—and I can +hardly realize it myself. But I <i>am</i> cured, dear, and I'm well and +strong, and I don't need any help—why, Robert, I am going to help you +now, instead of always being a source of worry and anxiety to you. Come, +let us go."</p> + +<p>"If you will walk slowly," suggested Madison, "I'll speak to the little +Holmes boy and his parents, and bring them with us."</p> + +<p>He moved away as he spoke—in the direction of a racking cough, that +rose above the confused, murmuring, whispering, shaken voices on every +hand; and in a little knot of people he was, for a moment, pressed close +against Pale Face Harry.</p> + +<p>"All right," whispered Pale Face Harry, "it's in your pocket now—but, +say, no more runs like that for me, I'm all in. I thought sure I was +cured myself—I hadn't coughed for—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind about that now," said Madison rapidly. "I want the crowd +kept away from the doors of the bank vault if they show any tendency to +get too close, though I don't think that'll happen—they're too numbed +and scared yet. But you know the game. Keep the awe going and the 'holy +ground' signs up. Anybody that steps across that stretch between the +trees and the cottage on and after the present date of writing does it +with bowed head and his shoes off—get the idea?"</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry grinned.</p> + +<p>"That's easy," he said. "Anything'd steer<!-- Page 146 --> 'em now—they're like sheep. +Leave it to me to keep the soft pedal on."</p> + +<p>With a nod, Madison turned away, the tense expression on his face +assumed again—and presently he was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, and +patting the boy's head in a clumsy, overwrought way.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't dar'st to go," said Mrs. Holmes, clutching wildly at the +boy, still sobbing, still beyond control of herself.</p> + +<p>"But Mrs. Thornton is going," said Madison gently, "and I know your +gratitude is no less than hers—it couldn't be less with this little lad +restored to you. I am sure you want to show it—don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I think we'd orter go, ma," said Mr. Holmes uneasily.</p> + +<p>The boy put his hand in Madison's.</p> + +<p>"I want to go, mister," he choked. "Take me, mister, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think we'd orter go," repeated Mr. Holmes. "Come along, ma," he +said, taking his wife's arm.</p> + +<p>It was a strange group—the Thorntons, rich, refined, to whom luxury was +necessity; the Holmes, poor, uncultured, coarsely dressed; and Madison, +who walked with set face, head lowered a little, his pace slowing +perceptibly, humbly it seemed, the nearer he came to the cottage door. +Neither Thornton, nor Holmes, nor Holmes' wife spoke. Mrs. Thornton's +arm was flung around the boy's shoulder, and he kept looking up into her +tearful<!-- Page 147 --> face—there was a bond between them that, young as he was, held +him in its thrall. Out across the lawn, dotted here and there, in knots +and groups and little crowds, men and women stopped where they stood and +watched, making no effort to follow—and some, at the renewed evidence +of the miraculous, once more so vividly before their eyes, dropped again +to their knees.</p> + +<p>They reached the door, and Madison drew back a little and with the +others waited silently after he had knocked. Then the door opened +slowly, and Helena, slim and girlish in her simple white dress, appeared +upon the threshold. Her great dark eyes travelled slowly from one to +another, and then her face lighted with a gentle smile.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vail," said Madison diffidently, "this is Mrs. Thornton and her +husband, and the little lad, with his parents, who owes so much to the +Patriarch, and they have come to—"</p> + +<p>"To try and say a little of what is in their hearts"—Mrs. Thornton +stepped impulsively forward and held out her hands to Helena—and then, +breaking down suddenly, she began to sob, and the two were in each +other's arms, Mrs. Thornton's head buried on Helena's shoulder, Helena's +face lowered, her brown hair mingling with the gold of the other's, her +arms about the frail form that shook convulsively.</p> + +<p>Doc Madison shot a covert glance at the three behind him—Thornton, and +Holmes, and Mrs. Holmes. Holmes, with downcast eyes, was shuffling +awkwardly from foot to foot; Mrs. Holmes,<!-- Page 148 --> her woman's instinct touched, +was watching the scene with face aglow, her eyes moist anew; Thornton +was staring fascinated at Helena, a sort of breathless, wondering +admiration in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Madison involuntarily followed Thornton's look; then stole a glance back +at Thornton again—Thornton was still gazing intently at Helena.</p> + +<p>"Say," observed Madison to himself, "the longer you live the more you +learn, don't you? That's the kind of stuff Helena wears from now on, the +clinging white with the bare throat effect and all that. Why, say, like +that she's what the poets call radiantly divine—eh, what?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton raised her head, and her hands creeping to Helena's face +brushed the brown hair tenderly back from the white forehead.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how good and sweet and pure you are!" she murmured brokenly.</p> + +<p>A quick, sudden flush, passing to all but Madison as one of demure and +startled modesty, swept in a crimson tide to Helena's face.</p> + +<p>"You—you must not say that," she faltered, shaking her head. "I—you +must not say that."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton smiled at her—and slipped her arm affectionately around +Helena's waist.</p> + +<p>"I could not help it, dear," she whispered. "It came spontaneously. And +it makes me so happy to find you like this, and it makes it so much more +a joy in doing what we have come to talk to you about."</p> + +<p>"What you have come to talk to me about?"—Helena,<!-- Page 149 --> steadying herself, +repeated the words almost composedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Thornton, an eagerness in her voice again. +"But—may we come in? Is it—"</p> + +<p>"All may come in here," Helena answered softly, "and"—her eyes met +Thornton's fixed gaze and dropped quickly—"please come in," she ended +abruptly.<!-- Page 150 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>—XIII—</h2> + +<h4>REAL MONEY</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>The two women passed inside the cottage, Mrs. Thornton holding out her +hand again to the little lad; while Holmes and his wife followed +hesitantly, awed. In the rear, Thornton grasped Madison's arm suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I never saw such a beautiful face," he whispered tensely. "It's +wonderful."</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Madison. "But everything here seems full of a rare, +strange beauty, a hallowed something—it lifts one beyond material +things. You <i>feel</i> it—a great, calm solemnity all about you."</p> + +<p>He closed the door softly behind him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton's eyes swept questioningly, anxiously and a little timidly +about the plain, simple, quiet room; and then she spoke, her voice +unconsciously hushed:</p> + +<p>"He—he is not here?"</p> + +<p>Helena shook her head, as she led Mrs. Thornton to a chair.</p> + +<p>"Not now," she said in a low voice. "The strain of this afternoon has +left him very weary and very tired—much has gone out of him in response +to the faith he felt but could not see."<!-- Page 151 --></p> + +<p>"But he knows?" said Mrs. Thornton eagerly, reaching for Helena's hand. +"He knows?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Helena replied quietly, "he knows. He always knows." She nodded +gravely to the others. "Please sit down," she said.</p> + +<p>Madison quietly took the chair nearest the table; Thornton one a little +in front of Madison and nearer his wife and Helena, who were close by +the big, open fireplace; the two Holmes sat down on the edges of chairs +a little behind Madison; while young Holmes knelt, his arms in Mrs. +Thornton's lap, his head turned a little sideways, his chin cupped in +one hand, as he stared breathlessly around him.</p> + +<p>It was the boy who broke the momentary silence.</p> + +<p>"Ain't that other fellow here, neither—the fellow that was worse'n me?" +he whispered.</p> + +<p>Helena leaned toward him.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is here," she answered, smiling sweetly. "He is with the +Patriarch." She lifted her head to include the others in her words. "It +is very wonderful, his gratitude. He will not leave the Patriarch—he +says he will not leave him ever, that all he has to give for the debt he +owes is the life that the Patriarch gave back to him, and he will listen +to nothing but that he should devote that life to the Patriarch's +service."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to, too," said young Holmes, with a quick flush on his face. +"Can I, miss—can I?"<!-- Page 152 --></p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Helena gently. "Who knows what there may be that you can +do?"</p> + +<p>"Dear boy," said Mrs. Thornton, stroking the lad's head. She looked +quickly at Helena. "We, too, are grateful, more than there are words to +tell, and we, too, would like to show our gratitude. We are rich and +money—"</p> + +<p>"Money!" the word came in shocked, hurt interruption from Helena, as a +signal flashed from Madison's eyes. "The Patriarch does not do these +things for money—it would be a bitter grief to him to be misjudged in +that way, even in thought. It is the love in his heart for the suffering +ones, and his power goes out to all who ask it freely, with no thought +of recompense or gain, and his joy and happiness is the joy and +happiness of others."</p> + +<p>"And right off the bat too!" said Madison admiringly to himself. "Now, +wouldn't that get you! Say, could you beat it—could you beat it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I did not mean that," said Mrs. Thornton almost piteously. "Please, +please do not think so, for I know so well that money in a personal +sense could have no place here, that it would indeed be sacrilege. It is +in quite another way—Robert, Mr. Madison, you explain what we would +like to do."</p> + +<p>It was Madison who explained.</p> + +<p>"It is Mrs. Thornton's idea, Miss Vail," he said earnestly; "and it is +one that I know will realize the Patriarch's dearest wish—to extend<!-- Page 153 --> +his sphere of helpfulness to others, to reach out to all who are +stricken and have faith to come. I remember his writing that on the +slate, which he used for conversation before his sight was completely +taken from him. I remember the words as though they were before me now: +'I have dreamed often of a wider field, of reaching out to help the +thousands beyond this little town—it would be wondrous joy.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Helena in a suppressed voice.</p> + +<p>"In a way," Madison went on gravely, "his dream is already realized. +What has happened here this afternoon will in a few hours be known to +the whole civilized world, and there will be no room for incredulity or +doubt—on whatever ground people see fit to base their belief, they must +still believe; and, believing, they will come here in ever increasing +numbers—but this little village is totally inadequate to accommodate +them. At first, yes, as I said to Mrs. Thornton; but afterwards—no. +Mrs. Thornton's idea, Mr. Thornton's idea and my own, if I may say so, +is to build and endow a great sanatorium that, in consonance with the +Patriarch's ideals, shall be free to all—and we feel that the money for +this purpose will come gladly and spontaneously, as it so appropriately +should come, from those who find joy and peace and health again at the +Patriarch's hands."</p> + +<p>Helena half rose from her chair, as she stole a veiled glance at +Madison.</p> + +<p>"It would be wonderful," she said, with a little catch in her voice. +"And he—it would be<!-- Page 154 --> the one thing in the world for him. But—but it +would take a great deal of money."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Madison slowly; "at least half a million."</p> + +<p>Thornton turned toward Madison.</p> + +<p>"As much as that?" he asked tentatively.</p> + +<p>"I should say so," replied Madison thoughtfully. "You see, it's the +endowment after all that is the most important. Say that the building +and equipment cost only a hundred thousand, that would only leave an +income, from the other four hundred thousand at six per cent., of +twenty-four thousand dollars—not enough in itself even, but it would be +augmented of course by the contributions that would still go on."</p> + +<p>Thornton nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"That is so," he agreed; "but there is the time to consider—it would +take a long time to raise that amount."</p> + +<p>"No," said Madison. "A few months at the outside. Thornton"—he reached +out and laid his hand impressively on the other's sleeve—we are not +dealing with ordinary things here—we have witnessed this afternoon a +sight that should teach us that. Here, in this very room, beside us now, +your wife, that little boy, is evidence of power beyond anything we have +ever known before. Have we not that same power to count on still? It +would be an ingrate heart indeed that, owing all, returned nothing."</p> + +<p>"Yes," murmured Mrs. Thornton. "Mr. Madison is right. I know it, I feel +it—the<!-- Page 155 --> money will come faster than we have any idea of."</p> + +<p>Madison smiled at her quietly.</p> + +<p>"It will come," he said. "People will give their money, their jewels, +anything, and give joyfully—and until the amount in hand is large +enough to warrant beginning operations, Miss Vail naturally will be its +guardian."</p> + +<p>"I?" said Helena hesitatingly. "I—I am only a girl, I would not know +what to do."</p> + +<p>"You would not have to do anything, Miss Vail," Madison informed her +reassuringly. "When the time comes for advice, the making of plans and +the carrying of them out, the brightest minds in this country will be +offered freely and voluntarily, you will see."</p> + +<p>"And meanwhile," inquired Thornton—he had been studying Helena's +profile intently, "would you propose keeping the contributions here?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!" said Madison. "And not only here, but openly displayed as +an added incentive for others to give—if added incentive be needed. +Here, for instance"—he rose as he spoke, went to the mantel over the +fireplace and lifted down a quaint, japanned box, fashioned in the shape +of a little chest, which he placed upon the table. "And here, too"—he +crossed to the bookshelves in the alcove, and took down a very old, +flexible-covered book. "Once," he said, "the Patriarch showed me this. +It was a blank book originally, half of it is blank still; but in<!-- Page 156 --> the +front, in the Patriarch's own writing, is an essay he wrote in the years +gone by on 'The Power of Faith'—what could be more fitting than that +the remaining pages should be filled with a record of the contributions +to that faith?" He laid the book on the table beside the little chest, +and sat down again. "There is no display, no ornamentation, no attempt +at anything of that kind—it is simplicity, those things serving which +are first at hand—as it seems to me it should be—those who give record +their names and gifts in this book—the little chest to hold the gifts +is open, free to the inspection of all."</p> + +<p>"But is that wise?" demurred Thornton. "So large a sum of money as must +accumulate to be left openly about? Would it not be a temptation to some +to steal? Might it not even endanger Miss Vail and the Patriarch +himself—subject them, indeed, to attack?"</p> + +<p>"I get your idea," said Madison to himself—while he gazed at Thornton +in pained surprise; "but there'll never be more than the day's catch in +the box at a time, though of course you don't know that. You see, we'll +empty it every night, and start it off fresh every morning, with a +trinket or two put back for bait. I'm glad you mentioned it though, it's +a little detail I mustn't forget to speak to the Flopper about." But +aloud he said, and there was a sort of shocked awe in his voice: +"Steal—<i>here</i>! In this sacred place! No man would dare—the most +hardened criminal<!-- Page 157 --> would draw back. Why do even we who sit here speak as +we have been speaking with hushed and lowered voices?—that very sense +of a presence unseen around us, that hovers over us, is a mightier +safeguard than the strongest bolts and locks, than the steel-barred +vaults of any bank. It would seem indeed to profane our own faith even +to entertain such an idea—to me this place is a solemn shrine, and +there is only purity and faith and stillness here, the dwelling place of +a power as compassionate as it is mighty."</p> + +<p>Madison stopped abruptly—and a silence fell. Each seemed busy with +their own thoughts. About them was quiet, stillness, peace—twilight was +falling, and a soft, mellow light was in the room.</p> + +<p>"No one would dare"—the words came from Mrs. Thornton in almost +breathless corroboration, almost of their own accord it seemed, as +though heavy upon her lay the solemnity of her surroundings.</p> + +<p>Madison's hand went to his pocket—slowly he drew out his check-book and +laid it upon the table.</p> + +<p>"I am not a rich man"—his voice was very low, very earnest—"but I feel +that this is something deeper, grander, bigger than anything the world +perhaps has ever known before; something higher and above one's own +self; it seems as though here were the chrysalis that, once developed to +its perfect state, would sweep pain and sorrow from suffering humanity; +it is as though<!-- Page 158 --> a new, glad era had dawned for all mankind. I am glad +to give and humbly proud to have a part in this." He took out his +fountain pen, opened the check-book, and began to write.</p> + +<p>Thornton leaned forward a little, watching him.</p> + +<p>Silence fell again—there was no sound save the almost inaudible +scratching of Madison's pen. Upon Mrs. Thornton's face was a happy, +radiant smile; Helena's face was impassive, but in the dark eyes lurked +a puzzled light; the two Holmes sat awkwardly, still upon the edges of +their chairs, gazing at their son across the room, incredulously, as +though they still could not believe—and occasionally Mrs. Holmes wiped +her eyes.</p> + +<p>Madison's pen moved on: "Pay to the order of Miss Helena Vail the sum of +ten thousand dollars." He carefully inscribed the amount in numerals in +the lower left-hand corner. "Honest," he confided to himself, as he +signed the check, "I feel so philanthropic I could almost make myself +believe I had this money in the bank." He tore the check from its stub, +and, standing up, handed it to Helena. "I am not a rich man, Miss Vail, +as I said," he smiled gravely, "but I can give this, and I give it with +great joy in my heart."</p> + +<p>Helena took the check, glanced at it, gasped a little, lifted her eyes, +an instant's mocking glint in them, and veiled them quickly with her +long lashes.</p> + +<p>"No"—Madison's hand, palm up, went out<!-- Page 159 --> protestingly—"no, do not thank +me—it is little enough." He sat down again, drew the Patriarch's blank +book toward him, and, on the line beneath the one where the Patriarch +had ended his essay with the words, "such is the power of faith," wrote +his name and set down the amount of his contribution after it.</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand dollars!"—it was Mrs. Thornton speaking, as she took the +check from Helena. She turned quickly to her husband. "Robert, have you +your check-book here?"</p> + +<p>Thornton shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No, dear," he said. "I'm afraid I haven't."</p> + +<p>"Well, it doesn't matter," said Mrs. Thornton brightly. "You can use one +of Mr. Madison's checks and write the name of your own bank on +it—you've often done that, you know."</p> + +<p>"A suggestion," said Madison to himself, "for which I thank you, Mrs. +Thornton—it sounds so much less crude coming from you than from me." +But aloud he said courteously, "Take my pen, Mr. Thornton."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Thornton, as Madison placed it in his hand.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton and her husband had their heads together now, and were +whispering—Thornton with his eyes on Helena, who sat with lowered head, +twirling Madison's check in her hands. Then Thornton drew the check-book +toward him, scratched out the printed name of the bank that it bore, +wrote in another, and went on filling out the check.<!-- Page 160 --></p> + +<p>"Eeny-meeny-miny-mo," said Madison to himself. "The suspense is awful. +How much does he raise the ante? Next to the miracle, this is the first +real thrill I've had—I feel like an elevator starting down quick."</p> + +<p>As Madison had done, Thornton tore out the check and handed it to +Helena. Helena stared at it, lifted her eyes to Thornton, flushed—and +looked down at the check again.</p> + +<p>"<i>Fifty thousand</i>," she murmured breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Splendid!" cried Madison enthusiastically, rising from his chair and +pushing the newly established record of contributions toward Thornton. +"Splendid! There's sixty thousand of the five hundred already. +Splendid!"</p> + +<p>Young Holmes ran toward his parents.</p> + +<p>"I want to give too, dad," he whispered. "I want to give too."</p> + +<p>"Reckon so," said Holmes, getting up heavily. "Reckon so—an' I was +a-goin' to. I ain't got much though," he added timorously, as his hand +went into his pocket.</p> + +<p>There was a little exclamation from Helena, and she moved a step forward +as though to interpose. Madison looked at her quickly—and quietly +stepped around the table, placing himself between her and Holmes; and, +facing Holmes, leaned over the table from the far side toward the other.</p> + +<p>"It's not the amount, Holmes," he said kindly. "In the broad, true sense +the amount counts for nothing—all cannot give the same."<!-- Page 161 --></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Holmes. "Reckon that's the way I feel." He counted the bills +in his hand, and dropped them into the little japanned box; then +scrawled his name in the book beneath Thornton's, adding the +amount—eight dollars.</p> + +<p>Madison looked around the group benignantly.</p> + +<p>"I think they should know out there what we have done," he said, +pointing toward the lawn. "Let us go and tell them, not in any set +speech, but just simply—each of us speaking to a few—the few will tell +others. Shall we go?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Thornton. "Yes; let us tell them." She turned to Helena +and kissed her. "Try and come often to see me, dear—we shall be here +now for a little while at least. Is it asking too much? Robert will +bring you back and forth from the village. And perhaps, if I may, I will +come out here to see you—may I?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be very glad to do as my wife suggests," said Thornton, holding +out his hand. "You will come, Miss Vail?"</p> + +<p>"You are very good, both of you," Helena answered simply. She raised her +eyes to Thornton—her hand was still in his. "Yes, I will try to come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, break away!" muttered Madison impatiently—but silently. He stepped +to the door and opened it. "Will you lead the way, Mrs. Thornton?" he +said calmly.</p> + +<p>Thornton and his wife passed out; and the Holmes, with clumsy, earnest +words upon their<!-- Page 162 --> lips to Helena, followed. Madison hung back—then +stepped quickly to Helena.</p> + +<p>"Tear up that check of mine so small you can't find the pieces, Helena," +he said hurriedly; "and send Thornton's right off to any old bank you +like in New York. Endorse it, and write them a note saying you wish to +open an account. Enclose your signature, and tell them to mail back the +bank-book, a check-book, deposit slips and all that. They'll know by the +newspapers that Thornton's subscribed fifty thousand before they get the +check, and they'll feel honored to be your depository. Do it to-night, +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Helena, nodding her head. "I'll see to it all right." Then, +a little perturbed: "But those poor Holmes and their eight dollars, Doc, +I—"</p> + +<p>"Now don't be greedy, Helena," said Madison cheerfully. "You mustn't +expect everybody to hand out ten and fifty thousand, just because +Thornton and I did—try and appreciate the little things of life too."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Helena angrily. "Doc Madison, I'd like to—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, all right, of course," interrupted Madison, grinning. "Good-by, +that's all—I'm off—see, they're waiting for me"—and leaving Helena +with an outraged little flush upon her cheek, he hurried through the +door after the others.<!-- Page 163 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>—XIV—</h2> + +<h4>KNOTTING THE STRINGS</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>It is a very old saying, and therefore of course indisputably true, that +some have greatness thrust upon them. True of men, it is, in one +instance at least, true of places—Needley, from an unheard of, modest, +innocuous and unassuming little hamlet, leaped in a flash into the focus +of the world's eyes. In huge headlines the papers in every city of every +State carried it on their front pages. And while the first astounding +despatch from the metropolitan newspaper man was being copied by leading +dailies everywhere, there came on top of it, clinching its veracity +beyond possibility of doubt, the news that Robert Thornton, the well +known Chicago multi-millionaire, had given fifty thousand dollars to the +cause. A man, much less a multi-millionaire, does not give fifty +thousand dollars for a bubble, so the managing editors of the leading +dailies rushed for their star reporters—and the star reporters rushed +for Needley—and the red-haired, sorrowful-faced man in the Needley +station grew haggard, tottered on the verge of collapse, and, between +the sheafs of flimsy that the reporters fought for the opportunity of +pushing at him, wired desperately for a relief.<!-- Page 164 --></p> + +<p>Needley awoke and came to life—as from the dead. There was bustle, +activity, and suppressed and unsuppressed excitement on every hand—the +Waldorf Hotel once more opened its doors—the Congress Hotel was already +full.</p> + +<p>The reporters interviewed everybody with but one exception—the +Patriarch.</p> + +<p>They interviewed Madison—and Madison talked to them gravely, quietly, a +little self-deprecatingly, a little abashed at the thought of personal +exploitage.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be interviewed at all," he told them, "if it were not that +mankind at large is entitled to every bit of evidence that can be +obtained. Yes; I gave what I could afford, but it was Holmes, a poor +man, who gave most of all—have you seen him? Myself? What does that +matter? I am unknown, my personality, unlike Mr. Thornton's, can carry +no weight. I am, I suppose, what you might call a rolling stone, a world +wanderer. My parents left me a moderate fortune, and I have travelled +pretty well and pretty constantly all over the world during the last +twelve or fifteen years. How did I come to Needley? Well, you can call +it luck, or something more than that, whichever way it appeals to you. I +was feeling seedy, a little off-color, and I started down for a rest and +lay-off in Maine. I happened to ask a man in Portland if he knew of a +quiet place. He meant to be humorous, I imagine. He said Needley was the +quietest place he knew of. I took him at his word."<!-- Page 165 --></p> + +<p>"But how do you account for these miraculous cures?" they asked.</p> + +<p>"You have seen them—the results," Madison replied. "You know the cures +to be living, vital, irrefutable facts—don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," they agreed.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Madison, "there can be but one answer—faith. There is no +other—faith. Are we not, in view of what has happened, of what exists +before our very eyes, forced to the belief that faith is the greatest +thing, the most potential factor in the world?"</p> + +<p>"And do you believe then that all who come here will be cured?"</p> + +<p>Madison shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no," he said; "far from it. Many will come with but the semblance +of faith, and for those there can be no cure—that is evident on the +face of it, is it not?"</p> + +<p>They interviewed Thornton—and Thornton, too, talked to them, but the +very presence of Mrs. Thornton was weightier far than words.</p> + +<p>They interviewed the Holmes, and they interviewed Needley individually +and collectively; and they interviewed Helena—but they did not +interview the Patriarch. Here Helena barred their way—they were free to +enter the cottage, to copy the names, the record of gifts inscribed in +the book, already a long list for Needley had required no other +incentive to give than the example that had been set—but that was all. +Quietly, with demure simplicity, Helena, prompted by<!-- Page 166 --> Madison, like a +priestess who guards some holy, inner shrine, told them that sensational +notoriety had no place there—and the notoriety for that very cause +became the greater! Not that they were denied a sight of the Patriarch's +venerable and saintly form—they were permitted to catch glimpses of him +on the beach, on the lawn, walking with bowed head in meditation, a +figure whose simple majesty inspired words and columns of glowing +tribute—but from personal contact, Helena and the Flopper, always in +attendance, warded them off; retreating always to the privacy of the +cottage, to the inner rooms.</p> + +<p>All this had taken four days; and now, on the fourth day, there came to +Needley the vanguard of those who sought this new healing power—just a +few of them, two or three, like far, outflung skirmishers evidencing the +presence of the army corps to follow. With the reporters, as far as +Madison was concerned, it was simple enough; he had but to let them go +their way, to let them revel in the stories that were on every tongue, +to let them view with their own eyes <i>facts</i>, while he, modestly and +diffidently, full of quiet earnestness, effaced himself, never thrusting +himself forward, talking to them only when they pressed him—but the +handling of the sufferers who would flock to Needley in response to a +newspaper publicity and endorsement that had been beyond his wildest +dreams, was quite another matter. Madison viewed the first +arrivals—brought<!-- Page 167 --> in from the station on cot beds to the Waldorf +Hotel—and retired to his room in the Congress Hotel to wrestle with the +niceties and minutiæ of the problem.</p> + +<p>"You see," said Madison to the tip of his cigar, as he tilted back his +chair and extended his legs full length with his heels comfortably up on +the table edge, "you see, I believe in faith all right—and that's no +josh. But the trouble with faith is that it's about the scarcest article +on earth—and I haven't got any more Floppers to lead the way." Madison +adroitly sent the cigar ash through the window with a tap of his +forefinger on the body of the cigar—he frowned, and for a long time sat +musingly silent. Then he spoke again; this time addressing the toes of +his boots: "With the house sold out for the season, the box-office doing +itself proud and the audience crazy over the first two acts, how about +Act Three—h'm?—how about Act Three? Kind of a delicate proposition, +the staging of Act Three—and it's time for the curtain to go up. I can +hear 'em stamping out front now. I can't pull off any more orgies like +last Monday afternoon, even if I wanted to—but everybody's got to have +a run for their money. Say, how about Act Three?"</p> + +<p>Madison burned up quite a little tobacco in the interval before supper, +and quite a little more afterward before the setting for his perplexing +"Third Act" appeared to unfold itself satisfactorily before his +mind—indeed, it was close onto<!-- Page 168 --> half past ten when, by a roundabout +way, he very cautiously and silently approached the Patriarch's cottage.</p> + +<p>In the front of the cottage, the Shrine-room, as he christened it, and +the Patriarch's sleeping room were both dark. Madison passed around to +the beach side—here, Helena's room was dark too, but in the Flopper's +window, the end room next to the kitchen and woodshed, there was a +light. The night was warm, and, though the shade was drawn, the window +was open. Madison whistled softly, and the Flopper stuck out his head.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Flopper," said Madison; "come out here—I want to have a talk +with you. Helena in bed?"</p> + +<p>"No; she's out," replied the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Well, hurry up!" said Madison. "Come around in front by the trellis +where we can see the other fellow first if anybody happens to be +strolling about."</p> + +<p>Madison withdrew from the window and walked around to the front of the +cottage. Here, a few yards from the porch, by the trellis, already +beginning to be leafy green, was a rustic bench on which he seated +himself. The moon was not full, but there was light enough to enable him +to see across the lawn through the interposing row of maples, and, +hidden by the shadows himself, the seat strategetically met his +requirements.</p> + +<p>Presently, the Flopper came out of the front door and joined him.</p> + +<p>"Say, Doc," announced the Flopper abruptly,<!-- Page 169 --> "de Patriarch's been askin' +fer youse yesterday an' to-day."</p> + +<p>"Asking?" repeated Madison.</p> + +<p>"Sure," said the Flopper. "He can scrawl if he is blind, can't he? He +scrawls yer name on de slate. We can't tell him nothin', an' he's kinder +got de fidgets like he t'inks youse had flown de coop."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Madison. "It is rather difficult to communicate with +him, isn't it? I guess we'll have to get him some raised letters."</p> + +<p>"What's them?" inquired the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly," Madison answered. "I never saw any, but I +believe they have such things. Been asking for me, has he? Well, I'll +fix it to see him to-morrow. Where did you say Helena had gone?"</p> + +<p>"I said she was out," said the Flopper. "If you ask me where, I'd say de +same place as last night an' de night before—down to dat private car +wid his nibs. Say, dere's some class to dat guy all right, an' I guess +Helena ain't got her eyes shut."</p> + +<p>"Hey!" ejaculated Madison. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he's got de rocks, ain't he?" declared the Flopper. "Why +shouldn't she be after him? Dat's wot we're here fer, ain't it, de whole +bunch of us?—an' she ain't t'rowin' us, is she, if she sees a chanst to +pick up somet'ing on her own?"</p> + +<p>Madison turned quickly on the Flopper.</p> + +<p>"You mean," he said sharply, "that there's<!-- Page 170 --> something going on between +Helena and Thornton—already?"</p> + +<p>"Aw, stop kiddin'!" said the Flopper. "Already! Wot's 'already' got to +do wid it? We ain't none of us church members, are we? Say, where'd you +pick up Helena yerself—and how long did it take youse? I don't know +whether dere's anyt'ing goin' on or not—mabbe she's only gettin' +lonely—youse ain't hung around her much lately, Doc."</p> + +<p>Madison laughed suddenly.</p> + +<p>"You're talking through your hat, Flopper," he said shortly. "You don't +know Helena."</p> + +<p>"It's a wise guy dat knows skirts," said the Flopper profoundly; then, +with something approaching a sigh: "Say, Doc, dere's a lalapazoozoo, a +peach down here."</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" exclaimed Madison, shooting a hurried and critical glance at +the Flopper in the moonlight. "What's this, Flopper—what's this? What +have you been up to? You're supposed to be attending strictly to +business."</p> + +<p>"An' you needn't t'ink I ain't," asserted the Flopper. "But I can't stop +de town fallin' over itself to bring de whole farmyard, an' eggs, an' +butter, an' flour, an' everyt'ing else out here every mornin', can I? +She's blown in twice wid cream fer de Patriarch."</p> + +<p>"What's her name?" inquired Madison quizzically.</p> + +<p>"Mamie Rodgers," said the Flopper. "She says her old man keeps a store +in de village."<!-- Page 171 --></p> + +<p>"I know her," nodded Madison. "Pretty girl and all right, Flopper. But +mind what you're doing, that's all. I don't want any complications to +queer things around here—understand? But let's get down to the business +that I came out about—the lay from now on. You can put Helena wise."</p> + +<p>"Sure," said the Flopper earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Well then, listen," said Madison. "The patients have begun to +arrive—there were three of them in to-day. There's no more circus +parades—everything's under the tent after this. I want you to wean the +Patriarch entirely from that front room—that's to be free for anybody +to enter so's they can drink in atmosphere—and see the contribution +box. But they don't see the Patriarch. Get his armchair into his own +room, make him comfortable there—get the idea? Now, there's no +consultation hours—the Patriarch can't be seen just by asking for +him—the only chance they get at the Patriarch is by an exercise of +patience that'll work their faith up to a pitch that'll do them some +good. The harder it is to get a thing, the more it's worth and the more +you want it—that's the principle. See?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," said the Flopper, licking his lips.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," Madison went on, "you're to keep the Patriarch under cover +for two or three days, while they hang around working themselves into a +frenzy. And when they do see him they have to scramble for it. You don't +lead him out to them—ever. Make them waylay him when<!-- Page 172 --> you take him for +a walk—make them crawl and hop and show they've got faith, make them +believe they've got faith themselves—we'll get some more cures, or +near-cures anyway, that way, and we won't get them any other way, and +we've got to have some sort of cures coming along fairly regularly. Do +you get me, Flopper? If there's a party on a cot a hundred yards away +and he begs you to bring the Patriarch to him, say him nay. Everybody +has got to get into the reserved paddock by themselves—tell them that +no man can be cured who has not got the faith to reach the Patriarch by +himself—tell them to get up and <i>walk</i> to him—tell them what you did."</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" said the Flopper. "Say, Doc, youse are de one an' only. I +gotcher—put it up to <i>dem</i> everytime."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said Madison. "It's their move every minute—make them feel +that if they don't get what they're after it's their own fault—that +it's their own lack of faith that's to blame. And the longer they have +to wait to see the Patriarch, the more they become impressed that faith +is necessary, and—oh, well, psychology is the greatest jollier of them +all."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" inquired the Flopper. "I ain't on dere, Doc."</p> + +<p>"It's very simple," smiled Madison, "They'll want to convince themselves +that they <i>have</i> got faith, that it's all bottled up and ready to have +the cork drawn when called for, and they'll prove<!-- Page 173 --> it to themselves by +laying an offering upon the shrine as evidence of faith <i>before</i> the +goods are delivered."</p> + +<p>"I gotcher!" said the Flopper enthusiastically. "Why say, Doc, dat's de +way I'd do meself—swipe me, if I wouldn't!"</p> + +<p>"That's the way nearly everybody would do," said Madison, laughing. +"There's at least a few similar kinks common to our noble race—we're +busy most of the time trying to fool ourselves one way or another. Well, +that's about all. I can't lay out a programme for every minute of the +day—you and Helena have got to use your heads and work along that +general idea. You play up your gratitude strong. And, oh yes—keep the +altar box well baited. Let Helena put some of her near-diamond rings and +joujabs in until we collect some genuine ones—and then keep the genuine +ones going—change every day for variety, you know. And take the silver +money out every time you see any in—not that we scorn it in the great +aggregate, far from it—it's just psychology again, Flopper. I went to +church once and sat beside a duck with a white waistcoat and chop +whiskers, who wore the dollar sign sticking out so thick all over him +that you couldn't see anything else; and when it came time for +collection he peeled a bill off a roll the size of a house, and waited +for the collection plate to come along. But he got his eye on the plate +a couple of pews ahead and it was full of coppers and chicken feed,<!-- Page 174 --> and +he did the palming act with the bill slicker than a faro dealer—and +whispered to me to change a quarter for him."</p> + +<p>"And did you?" asked the Flopper anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, wake up, Flopper!" grinned Madison; then, suddenly: "Hullo! Who's +that?"</p> + +<p>Across the lawn, coming through the row of maples from the direction of +the wagon track, appeared two figures.</p> + +<p>"Dat's who," said the Flopper, after gazing an instant. "It's Helena an' +Thornton."</p> + +<p>"So it is," agreed Madison. "Get behind the trellis here then—it +wouldn't do for him to see me out here at this time of night."</p> + +<p>They rose noiselessly from the bench, and slipped quickly behind the +trellis. Toward them, walking slowly came the two figures, Helena +leaning on Thornton's arm. Thornton was talking, but in too low a tone +to be overheard. Then a silence appeared to fall between the two, and it +was not until they reached the porch, close to Madison and the Flopper, +that either spoke again.</p> + +<p>Then Thornton held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Miss Vail—and good-by temporarily," he said. "I suppose I +shall be gone four or five days; I'm going up on the morning train, you +know. I wish you'd go as often as you can to see Naida in the car while +I'm away—will you? Her condition worries me, though she insists that +she is completely cured, and she will not listen to any advice. I have +an idea that she has overtaxed herself—apart from her hip disease,<!-- Page 175 --> her +heart was in a very critical state. You'll go to her, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Helena, "of course, I will."</p> + +<p>Their voices dropped lower, and for a moment only a murmur reached +Madison; and then, with another "Good-night, Miss Vail," Thornton +started back across the lawn.</p> + +<p>Madison could hear Helena fumbling with the door latch, and by the time +she had succeeded in opening the door the retreating figure of Thornton +was a safe distance away. Madison called in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"Here, Helena! Wait a minute!"</p> + +<p>There was a quick, startled little exclamation from the doorway, and +Helena came out hurriedly from the porch.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" she cried in a low voice. "Oh"—as they stepped into +view—"you, Doc, and the Flopper! What were you doing behind that +trellis?"</p> + +<p>"Keeping out of Thornton's road," said Madison. "So he's going away, eh? +What for?"</p> + +<p>"Business," replied Helena. "Has to go to some meeting in Chicago—he's +leaving his wife and the private car here. What did you come at this +hour for?"</p> + +<p>"Lines for the next act," said Madison; "but the Flopper's got it all, +and he'll put you on." He stepped toward Helena and slipped his arm +around her waist. "Come on, it's early yet, let's go for a little walk. +The Flopper'll excuse us, and I—"<!-- Page 176 --></p> + +<p>"I thought you said," Helena interrupted, disengaging herself quietly, +"that we had to play the game to the limit and take no chances."</p> + +<p>"Well, so I did," admitted Madison, and his arm crept around her again; +"but I guess we've earned a little holiday and—"</p> + +<p>"'Nix on that,' I think was what you said," said Helena with a queer +little laugh, drawing away again. "And I really think you were right, +Doc—we ought to play the game without breaking the rules, and +so—good-night"—and she turned and ran from him into the cottage.</p> + +<p>Madison stared after her in a sort of helpless state of chagrin.</p> + +<p>"Mabbe," said the Flopper, "mabbe she's lonely."<!-- Page 177 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>—XV—</h2> + +<h4>A MIRACLE OVERDONE</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>Helena sat in the Patriarch's room, and her piquant little face was +pursed up into a scowl so daintily grim as to be almost ludicrous. The +Patriarch, in his armchair, had been scrawling words upon the slate all +evening—and she had been wiping them off! He scrawled another now—and +mechanically, without looking at it, by way of answer she pressed his +arm to appease him.</p> + +<p>She had been restless all day, and she was restless now. What had +induced her to treat Madison the way she had the night before? Pique, +probably. No; it wasn't pique. It was just getting back at him—and he +deserved it. He hadn't seemed to mind it much, though—he had only +laughed and teased her about it that morning when he had joined the +Patriarch and herself in their walk along the beach.</p> + +<p>With her chin in her hands, she began to study the Patriarch through +half closed eyes—deaf and dumb and blind—and somehow it all seemed +excruciatingly funny and she wanted to laugh hysterically. He seemed to +sense the fact that she was looking at him, and, with quick, instant +intuition,<!-- Page 178 --> he smiled and reached out his hand toward her.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously, involuntarily, she drew back—then, recovering herself +the next instant, she took his hand. Now, why had she done that? What +was the matter with her? Again she felt that sudden impulse to scream, +or laugh, or shout, or make some noise—it seemed as though she were +penned in, smothered somehow, imprisoned. What <i>was</i> the matter? Nerves? +She had never known what nerves were in all her life! Couldn't she play +the game and act her part without making a fool of herself? She had +played a part all her life, hadn't she? Maybe it was quite a shock to +her system to take a place amongst really good and simple folk!</p> + +<p>She laughed a little shortly—then rose abruptly from her chair, and +began to walk up and down the room. The trouble was that the soft pedal +was getting unbearable. That air of awed hush and solemnity, morning, +noon and night, without anything to relieve it, was just a trifle too +drastic and sudden a change in life for her to accept calmly and swallow +in one dose without feeling any effects from it! If she could be +transported now for an hour, say, to the Roost, or Heligman's and the +turkey trot, or the Rivoli, or any old place—except Needley, Maine!</p> + +<p>"Gee!" said Helena to herself. "If I don't break loose and kick the +traces over for a minute or two, I'll be clawing the bars of a dippy +asylum before I'm through—and just listen to the sweet,<!-- Page 179 --> girlish +language I'm using—I'd like to bite something!"</p> + +<p>She turned impulsively to the door, stepped out into the hall, and +called the Flopper from his room.</p> + +<p>"Flopper, you go in there and stay with the Patriarch for awhile," she +ordered curtly. "I'm going down on the beach to yell."</p> + +<p>"Yell?" inquired the Flopper, blinking helplessly.</p> + +<p>"I'm going outside to yell—<i>yell.</i> You know what 'yell' means, don't +you?" she snapped.</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" observed the Flopper, gazing at her anxiously. "Skirts is +all de same—youse never know wot dey'll do next. Wot you wanter yell +fer?"</p> + +<p>"You mind your own business and do as you're told!" said Helena tartly. +"Go in there and stay with the Patriarch."</p> + +<p>"Sure," said the Flopper, grinning a little now. "Sure t'ing—but youse +needn't get on yer ear about it. Cheer up, mabbe de Doc'll be out +to-night, an' if he don't hear youse yellin' himself will I tell him +youse are out on de beach t'rowin' a fit?"</p> + +<p>"No," Helena answered sharply; "tell him nothing—I'm out." Then, quite +as quickly, changing her mind: "Yes; tell him I'm down there—or come +and get me yourself"—and she walked abruptly into her own room.</p> + +<p>"Now wot do youse t'ink of dat?" demanded the Flopper of the universe. +He blinked at the<!-- Page 180 --> door she had closed in his face. "Say," he asserted, +with sublime inconsistency, "if Mamie Rodgers was like all de rest of +dem, I'd t'row up me dukes before de gong rang." The Flopper went into +the Patriarch's room, and took the chair beside the other that Helena +had vacated. "Swipe me, if I wouldn't!" he added fervently, by way of +confirmation.</p> + +<p>Helena, in her own room, opened one of her trunks, lifted out the tray, +worked somewhat impatiently down through several layers of yellow, +paper-covered literature, that would have made the classics on the +Patriarch's bookshelves shrivel up and draw their skirts hurriedly +around them in righteous horror could they but have known or been +capable of such intensely human characteristics, and finally produced a +daintily jewelled little cigarette case and match box. She slammed the +tray back, slammed the cover of the trunk down, snatched up a wrap, +flung it over her head and shoulders—and left the cottage.</p> + +<p>She ran down to the beach at top speed, as if she couldn't get there +fast enough.</p> + +<p>"And now I'm just going to yell and go crazy as much as ever I like!" +panted Helena to the rollers.</p> + +<p>Instead, she sat down with her back to a rock, and opened her cigarette +case. She took out a cigarette, extracted a match from the match box, +lighted the match—and flung both cigarette and match from her.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be crazy—I don't know what<!-- Page 181 --> I want," said Helena +petulantly. Her chin went into her hands, and she stared wide-eyed at +the breaking surf. "I wonder what it all means?" she murmured, with a +mirthless little laugh.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts began to run riot. What <i>did</i> it all mean? What was this +faith? There was, there <i>must</i> be something in it. There was the Holmes +boy—suppose it <i>was</i> only some nervous disorder—well, something had +risen superior to whatever it was and had <i>cured</i> him. There was Naida +Thornton—true, she was ill again—her heart, Mr. Thornton had said—but +she could still walk, a thing she had not been able to do for a long +time until she came to Needley.</p> + +<p>Helena laughed again—oh, it was a good game! The Doc had made no +mistake about that—but then, when it came to planting anything the Doc +rarely did make a mistake. Fancy fifty thousand dollars in one haul! +<i>Fifty thousand in one haul!</i> The bank had sent her a passbook with that +amount to her credit. And that was only the beginning—hardly anybody +had come yet, and already there was several hundred dollars more in real +money that she had handed over to Madison from the offering box.</p> + +<p>Money! They'd have more money than they'd know what to do with before +they got through—there was nothing the matter with the game—all there +was to do was to play it to a finish. And there wasn't the slightest +risk about it—everything was given voluntarily. Oh, the game was all +right—but somehow she wasn't happy—not<!-- Page 182 --> nearly so happy as she had +been in New York, even in lean periods when she and the Doc had been +pressed for money. But, anyway, then they had been together, and fought, +and laughed, and loved, and quarrelled through flush times and bad.</p> + +<p>Maybe that was it! The Doc! Of course, she loved him—she had loved him +ever since she had known him. There was no secret about that—she loved +him fiercely, passionately, more than she loved anything else in the +world, with all the love she was capable of—more than he loved her—he +seemed to accept her, too often, so casually, so indifferently, so much +as a matter of course. He was so confidently and complacently sure of +her—and she was not at all sure of him. She was only sure that he was +quite right in being sure—she couldn't help loving him if she tried.</p> + +<p>She had hardly seen anything of him since that night in the Roost before +he had left for Needley—and he hadn't seemed to care much whether she +did or not. That talk about playing the game and taking no chances was +all bosh—there had been plenty of chances where it wouldn't have hurt +the game any. Perhaps the little jolt she had given him last night, +turning the tables a little, would wake him up a bit. Perhaps, as the +Flopper had said, he would come out to-night, and—</p> + +<p>"Helena! Helena!"</p> + +<p>Helena sat suddenly upright—the noise of the surf muffled the sound of +the voice, but that was<!-- Page 183 --> probably Doc now—she could hear footsteps +running from the direction of the cottage. Deliberately, Helena leaned +back again against the rock, took out a cigarette and with no attempt to +shade the flame of the match, rather to use it as a challenging beacon, +held it to the cigarette—but for the second time she flung both match +and cigarette hurriedly away. It wasn't Madison at all—it was only the +Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Say!" gasped the Flopper, blowing hard. "Why can't youse answer when +yer called? Wot you tryin' ter do—light a bonfire ter save yer voice? +Say, youse wanter get a wiggle on—beat it—quick! Dey're after you."</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Helena sharply, jumping to her feet. "After me? Who? What +do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno," said the Flopper with sudden imperturbability—and evidently +quite pleased with the agitation he had caused. "He talks like his mouth +was full, an' he's got a scare t'rown inter him so's his teeth have got +de jiggles."</p> + +<p>Helena caught the Flopper's arm and shook him angrily.</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about—what is it?" she demanded fiercely.</p> + +<p>"It's de porter from de private car," said the Flopper, wriggling away +from her. "He drove out here. De lady's on de toboggan—sick. She's +askin' fer youse an'—"</p> + +<p>Helena waited for no more. She raced to the cottage and around to the +front. A wagon was<!-- Page 184 --> standing before the porch; the negro porter on the +seat.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Sam?" she called anxiously, as she came up. "Is Mrs. +Thornton seriously ill?"</p> + +<p>"Yas—yas'um, miss," Sam answered excitedly. "I done feel in mah bones +she's gwine to die. Miss Harvey she done tole me to get a team an' drive +foh you-all like de debbil."</p> + +<p>Without waste of words, Helena clambered in beside him.</p> + +<p>"Then drive," she said shortly. "Drive as fast as you can."</p> + +<p>At first, as they drove along, Helena plied Sam with questions—and then +lapsed into silence. The man did not know very much—only that Mrs. +Thornton had been taken suddenly ill, and that the nurse had sent him on +the errand that had brought him to the cottage. A turmoil of conflicting +emotions filled Helena's mind, obtruding upon her anxiety, for she had +grown to care a great deal for Naida Thornton—this was a complication +that Doc Madison must know about—Thornton had left that morning and was +already far away—the newspaper men, or some of them at least, were +still in the town—and there were so many things else—they all came +crowding upon her, as she clung to her seat in the jolting wagon. But +Doc must know—that rose a paramount consideration. It seemed an age, an +eternity before they stopped finally at the station.</p> + +<p>She sprang out and turned to Sam.</p> + +<p>"Sam," she directed hurriedly, "you go back<!-- Page 185 --> to the Congress Hotel and +get Mr. Madison. Mr. Madison is a friend of Mr. Thornton's, you know. Go +about it quietly—you needn't let any one know what you came for. You +can tell Mr. Madison what the trouble is—and tell him that I sent you, +and that I am here. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yas'um, mum," said Sam impressively. "Just you done leab all that to +me, missy."</p> + +<p>Across the track on the siding, the private car was dimly lighted, the +window curtains down. Helena crossed the track and mounted the steps. As +she reached the platform, Miss Harvey, who had evidently heard her +coming, opened the door and drew her quietly inside.</p> + +<p>A glance at the nurse's face brought a sudden chill to Helena's heart. +Miss Harvey, capable, controlled, grave, smiled at her a little sadly.</p> + +<p>"I sent for you, Miss Vail," she said in a low tone, "because Mrs. +Thornton has been asking for you incessantly ever since the attack came +on three-quarters of an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"You mean," said Helena, "that—that there is—"</p> + +<p>"No hope," the nurse completed. "I am afraid there is none—it is her +heart. The condition has been aggravated by her activity during the last +few days since she has been able to walk—though I have done everything +within my power to keep her quiet." Miss Harvey laid her hand on +Helena's arm. "There is one thing, Miss Vail, I feel that I must say to +you, in justice both to<!-- Page 186 --> you and to myself, before you see her. Whatever +my personal ideas may be of what has taken place here, my professional +duty as a nurse demanded that I send for a doctor at once, and I want +you to know that is what I did, though I have not been successful in +getting one. There is no doctor here, so I telegraphed; but the doctor +at Barton's Mills is away."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Helena mechanically.</p> + +<p>"I just wanted you to understand," said Miss Harvey. "Will you come and +see Mrs. Thornton now?"</p> + +<p>"Does she know," whispered Helena, as she followed the nurse down the +corridor of the car, "does she know that—how ill she is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Miss Harvey answered simply. She stopped before a compartment +door, opened it softly, and, stepping aside, motioned Helena to enter.</p> + +<p>A little cry rose to Helena's lips that she choked back somehow, and a +mist for a moment blinded her eyes—then she was kneeling beside the +brass bed, and was holding in both her own the hand that was stretched +out to her.</p> + +<p>"Helena—dear—I am so glad you came," said Mrs. Thornton faintly. "I—I +am not going to get better, and there are some things I want to say to +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you are," returned Helena quickly, smiling bravely now. "You +mustn't say that."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Dear," she said, "I know. And I know that<!-- Page 187 --> what I have to say I must +say quickly." Her voice seemed to grow suddenly stronger with a great +earnestness. "Listen, dear. This must not make any difference to this +wonderful work that has just begun here. I was cured of my hip +disease—perfectly cured—no one can deny that—this is my own fault, I +have overdone it—I would not listen to reason—to do what I have done +in the last few days, when for a year and a half I had never moved a +step, was more than my heart could stand. I should have been more +quiet—but I was so glad, so happy—and I wanted to tell everybody—I +wanted all the world to know, so that others could find the joy that I +had found."</p> + +<p>She paused—and Helena sought for words that, somehow, would not come.</p> + +<p>The nurse was bending over the bed on the other side, and Mrs. Thornton +turned her head toward Miss Harvey now. She smiled gently, as though to +rob her words of any possible hurt.</p> + +<p>"Nurse, I want—to be alone with Miss Vail for just a moment."</p> + +<p>Miss Harvey, doubtful, hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Only for a moment," pleaded Mrs. Thornton. "You can stay just outside +the door."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly, Miss Harvey complied, and left the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton pressed Helena's hand tightly.</p> + +<p>"Listen, dear—this must not make any difference. It—it is the one +thing that will make me happy now—to know that. I—I have written<!-- Page 188 --> a +little note to Robert about it, to be given to him. Oh, if I could only +have lived to help—I should have tried so hard to be worthy to have a +part in it. Not like you, dear, with your sweetness and nobleness, for +God seems to have singled you out for this—but just to have had a +little part. How wonderful it would have been, bringing peace and health +and gladness where only sorrow and misery was before, and—and—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton's eyes closed, and she lay for a moment quiet.</p> + +<p>A blackness seemed to settle upon Helena—and how cold it was! She +shivered. Her dark eyes, wide, tearless now, stared, startled, dazed, at +the white face on the pillow crowned with its mass of golden hair. Her +sweetness! Her nobleness! Helena's lips half parted and her breath came +in quick, fierce, little gasps—it seemed as though she had been struck +a blow that she could not quite understand because somehow it had numbed +her senses—only there was a hurt that curiously, strangely seemed to +mock as it stabbed with pain.</p> + +<p>"There is Robert"—Mrs. Thornton spoke again—"I am sure he will do as I +have asked him to do about this, but—you can have a great deal of +influence with him. It—it perhaps may seem a strange thing to say, but +I pray that you two may be brought very close to each other. Robert +needs a good, true woman so much in his life—and I—we—we—my +illness—we have never had a home in its truest sense. Yes,<!-- Page 189 --> it is +strange for me perhaps to talk like this—but it is in my heart. I would +like to think of you both engaged in this wonderful work together."</p> + +<p>Again, through exhaustion, Mrs. Thornton stopped—and Helena, from +gazing at the other's pallid countenance in a sort of involuntary, +frightened fascination, dropped her head suddenly upon the bed-spread +and hid her face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton's hand found Helena's head and rested upon it.</p> + +<p>"I would like to see Robert happy," she murmured, after a little +silence. "Riches do not make happiness—they are so sad and empty a +thing when the heart is empty. I know he would be happy with you—he has +spoken so much of you lately—perhaps—perhaps—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thornton's voice was very faint—the words reached Helena plainly +enough as words, but they seemed to reach her consciousness in an +unreal, unnatural, blunted way, coma-like—pregnant of significance, yet +with the significance itself elusive, evading her.</p> + +<p>"A good woman," whispered Mrs. Thornton, "I have tried to be a good +woman—but—but my life, our wealth, our position has made it so +artificial. You have never known these things, dear—and so you are just +as God made you—good woman, so pure, so wonderful in your freshness and +your innocence. Robert's life has been so barren—so barren. I would +like to know that—that it will not always be so. Oh, if it could only +be that you and he should carry on<!-- Page 190 --> this great, glad work together—and +love should come into his life—and yours—and sunshine—promise me, +dear, that—"</p> + +<p>The voice died away. Helena, with head still buried, waited for Mrs. +Thornton to speak again. It seemed she waited for a great length of +time—and yet there was no such thing as time. It seemed as though she +were transported to a place of great and intense blackness where it was +miserably cold and chill, and she stood alone and lost, and strove to +find her way—and there was no way—only blackness everywhere, +immeasurable. She lifted her head suddenly, desperately, to shake the +unreality from her—and her eyes fell upon the gentle face, peaceful, +smiling, calm, and so <i>still</i>—and a startled, frightened cry rang from +her lips.</p> + +<p>There was the quick, hurried rush of some one coming into the room, and +the nurse brushed by her and bent instantly over the bed—after that, +quite soon after that it seemed, and yet it might have been quite a +little while, she found herself outside in the corridor and the nurse +was speaking to her.</p> + +<p>"Sam is still out there," said Miss Harvey gently. "I told him to keep +the team. You cannot help me, and I want you to go home, dear. And will +you ask Sam to go for Mr. Madison at the hotel on the way back—I do not +know who else I can call upon for advice."</p> + +<p>"I've sent for him already," said Helena numbly.<!-- Page 191 --></p> + +<p>"Have you, dear?" Miss Harvey said. "That was very thoughtful of +you—I'm sure he'll be here presently then. And now, dear, it is much +better that you should go."</p> + +<p>There were no tears in Helena's eyes as she stepped down from the car +vestibule to the tracks—only a drawn misery in her face. That was Doc +over there, pacing up and down on the platform in the darkness—wasn't +it weird the way his cigar glowed bright and then went out and then +glowed bright again—like a gigantic firefly!</p> + +<p>She was across the tracks before he saw her, then, hurrying forward, he +helped her to the platform.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Helena did not answer.</p> + +<p>Madison took the cigar from his lips, leaned forward, and peered into +Helena's face—then drew back with a low whistle.</p> + +<p>"Dead?" he said.</p> + +<p>Helena nodded.</p> + +<p>"Miss Harvey wants to see you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Say," said Madison slowly, "first crack out of the box this looks bad, +don't it? If this gets around here without a muffler on it, it might +make the railroad companies hang fire with those circulars for excursion +rates to Needley—what?"</p> + +<p>"I—I think I hate you!" Helena cried out suddenly, passionately. +"She's—she's dead—and that's all you think about!"</p> + +<p>Madison stared at Helena for a moment calmly.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here, Helena," said he quietly,<!-- Page 192 --> "don't get excited. Of +course I'm sorry—I'm not a brute and I've got feelings—but I can't +afford to lose my head. Something's got to be done, and done quick. We +don't want this headlined in every paper in the United States to-morrow +morning—Thornton wouldn't want it either. You say Miss Harvey wants to +see me? Well, that'll help some—she'll probably do as she's told, +and—"</p> + +<p>Madison paused abruptly, gazed abstractedly at the private car across +the tracks on the siding, and pulled at his cigar.</p> + +<p>Helena watched him in silence—a little bitterly. That quick, clever, +cunning brain of his was at work again—scheming—scheming—always +scheming—and Naida Thornton was dead.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," said Madison, speaking again as abruptly as he had +stopped. "It's simple enough. There's a westbound train due in an hour +or so—we'll couple the private car onto that and send it right along to +Chicago. What the authorities don't know won't hurt them. There's no +reason for anybody except Thornton to know what's happened till she gets +there—I'll wire him. The main thing is that the car won't be here in +the morning, and that'll take a little of the intimate touch of Needley +off. It might well have happened on her way home—journey too much for +her—left too soon—see? Thornton'll see it in the right light because +he's got fifty thousand dollars worth of faith in what's going on +here—get that? He won't want to harm<!-- Page 193 --> the 'cause.' There'll be some +publicity of course, we can't help that—but it won't hurt much—and +Thornton can gag a whole lot of it—he'd want to anyway for his own +sake. Now then, kid, there's Sam over there—you pile into the wagon and +go home, while I get busy—and don't you say a word about this, even to +the Flopper."</p> + +<p>And so Helena drove back to the Patriarch's cottage that night, a little +silent figure in the back seat of the wagon—and her hands were locked +tightly together in her lap—and to her, as she drove over the peaceful, +moonlit road, and under the still, arched branches of the trees in the +wood that hid the starlight, came again and again the words of one who +had gone, who perhaps knew better now—"you are as God made you."<!-- Page 194 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>—XVI—</h2> + +<h4>A FLY IN THE OINTMENT</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>The days passed. And with the days, morning, noon and night, they came +by almost every train, the sick and suffering, the lame, the paralytics +and the maimed—a steady influx by twos and threes and fours—from north +over the Canadian boundary line, from the far west, and from the +southernmost tip of the Florida coast. No longer on the company's +schedule was Needley a flag station—it was a regular stop, and its +passenger traffic returns were benign and pleasing things in the +auditor's office. And it was an accustomed sight now, many times a +day—what had once been a strange, rare spectacle—that slow procession +wending its way from the station to the town, some carried, some limping +upon crutches, all snatching at hope of life and health and happiness +again. Needley, perforce, had become a vast boarding house, as it +were—there were few homes indeed that did not harbor their quota of +those who sought the "cure."</p> + +<p>But there were others too who came—who were not sick—who had not +faith—who came to laugh and peer and peek. Pleasure yachts dropped +their anchors in the cove around the headland<!-- Page 195 --> from the Patriarch's +cottage—and their dingeys brought women decked out <i>de rigeur</i> in middy +blouses and sailor collars, and nattily attired gentlemen whose only +claim to seamanship was the clothes, or rather, the costumes that they +wore.</p> + +<p>They came laughing, supercilious, tolerant, contemptuous, pitying the +inanity of those they held less strongly-minded than themselves who +should be taken in by so apparent, glaring and monstrous a fake. They +came because it was the rage, the thing to do, quite the thing to do, +quite a necessary part of the summer's itinerary. But that they, should +they have been sick, would ever have dreamed of coming there was too +perfectly ridiculous an idea for words. How strange a thing is the human +animal!</p> + +<p>They came in their rather cruel, merciless gaiety—and they left sobered +and impressed; the ladies holding their embroidered parasols at a less +jaunty angle; the men with lightened pockets, their names enrolled in +the contribution book in that quiet, simple room, whose door was open, +whose cash-box was unguarded, where none asked them to either enter or +withdraw. They came and found no air of charlatanism such as they had +looked for—only a peaceful, unostentatious, patient air of sincerity +that left them remorseful and abashed. They came and went, a source of +revenue not counted on or thought of before by Madison; but a source +that swelled the coffers, brimming fuller day by day, to overflowing.<!-- Page 196 --></p> + +<p>In three weeks from the night of Mrs. Thornton's death, which had had at +least no visible effect on Needley, Needley was metamorphosed—with a +spontaneity, so to speak, that astounded even Madison himself—into +something that approximated very closely in reality the word-picture he +had drawn of it that night in the Roost. Madison looked upon his work +and saw that it was pleasing beyond his dreams. Money was pouring in—no +single breath of suspicion came to disquiet him. Even the cures were +working satisfactorily—even Pale Face Harry, who had become great +friends with the farmer at whose house he boarded, and who now spent +most of his time in the fields, was showing an improvement—Pale Face +Harry coughed less. The Flopper was as happy as a lark—and Mamie +Rodgers blushed now at mention of the name of Coogan. Helena, demure, +adored by all who saw her, went daily about her housework in the +cottage, and waited upon the Patriarch with gentle tenderness; while the +Patriarch, docile, full of supreme trust and confidence in every one, +radiant in Helena's companionship, was as putty in their hands. And so +Madison looked upon his work and saw no flaw—but with the days he grew +ill at ease.</p> + +<p>"It's too easy," he told himself. "I guess that's it—it's too easy. The +whole show runs itself. Why, there's nothing to do but count the cash!"</p> + +<p>And yet in his heart he knew that wasn't it—it was Helena. Helena was +beginning to trouble<!-- Page 197 --> him a little. She was playing the game all +right—playing it to the limit—and making a hit at every performance. +Her name was on every tongue, and men and women alike spoke of her +sweetness, her goodness, her loveliness. Well, that was all right, +Helena was a star no matter where you put her—but something was the +matter. Helena wasn't the Helena of a month ago back in little old New +York. He hadn't managed to get a dozen words with her since that night +on the station platform, without taking chances and gaining admission to +the cottage through the Flopper's window after dark—and then she had +held him at arm's length.</p> + +<p>"The matter with me?" she had said. "There isn't anything the matter +with me—is there? I'm—I'm playing the game."</p> + +<p>It certainly couldn't be grief over Mrs. Thornton's death—she had begun +to act that way before Mrs. Thornton died—that night when she came home +with Thornton, and he and the Flopper were behind the trellis. Thornton! +Had Thornton anything to do with it, after all? No—Madison had laughed +at it then, and he had much more reason to laugh at it now. Thornton was +still in Chicago, and hadn't been back to Needley.</p> + +<p>For three weeks this sort of thing occupied a considerably larger share +of Madison's thoughts than he was wont to allow even the most vexing +problems to disturb his usually imperturbable and complacent self—and +then one afternoon, he<!-- Page 198 --> smiled a little grimly, and, leaving the hotel, +started along the road toward the Patriarch's cottage.</p> + +<p>"What Helena needs is—a jolt!" said Madison to himself. "I guess her +trouble is one of those everlasting feminine kinks that all women since +Adam's wife have patted themselves on the back over, because they think +it's a dark veil of mystery that is beyond the acumen of brute man to +understand. That's what the novelists write pages about—wade right in +up to the armpits in it—feminine psychology—great! And the women smile +commiseratingly at the novelist—the idea of a man even pretending to +understand them—kind of a blooming merry-go-round and everybody happy! +Feminine psychology! I guess a little masculine kick-up is about the +right dope! What the deuce have I been standing for it for? I don't have +to—I don't have to go around making sheep's-eyes at her—what? She +wants grabbing up and being rushed right off her feet <i>à la</i> Roost, +and—hello, Mr. Marvin, how are you to-day!"—he had halted beside a +middle-aged man who was sitting on the grass at the roadside.</p> + +<p>"Better, Mr. Madison, better," returned the man, heartily. "Really very +much better."</p> + +<p>"Fine!" said Madison.</p> + +<p>"We all saw the Patriarch to-day—God bless him!" said Marvin. "We've +been waiting out there two days, you know—that woman with the bad back +got up off her stretcher."<!-- Page 199 --></p> + +<p>"Splendid!" exclaimed Madison enthusiastically. "And the glorious thing +about it is that there's no reason why everybody can't be cured if +they'll only come here in the right spirit."</p> + +<p>"That's so!" agreed Marvin. "None are so blind as those who won't +see—they're in utter blackness compared with the physical blindness of +that grand and marvelous man. I'm going home myself in another +week—better than ever I was in my life. It was stomach with me, you +know—doctors said there wasn't any chance except to operate, and that +an operation was too slim a chance to be worth risking it." He got up +and laughed, carefree, joyous. "God-given place down here, isn't it? +Clean—that's it. Clean air, clean-souled people, clean everything you +see or do or hear. Say, it kind of opens your eyes to real living, +doesn't it—it's the luxuries and the worries and the pace and the +damn-fooleries that kill. Well, I'm going along back now to get some of +Mrs. Perkins' cream—clean, rich cream—and homemade bread and +butter—imagine me with an appetite and able to eat!"</p> + +<p>He laughed again—and Madison joined him in the laugh, slapping him a +cordial good-by on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>Madison started on once more—but now his progress was slow, frequently +interrupted, for he stopped a score of times to chat and exchange a few +words with those whom he passed on the road. There were cheery faces +everywhere—even those of the sufferers who straggled out along<!-- Page 200 --> the +road coming back from the Patriarch's cottage. It was a cheery +afternoon, warm and balmy and bright—everything was cheery. The +farmers, their vocations for the moment changed, waved their whips at +him and shouted friendly pleasantries as they drove by with those who +were unable to make the trip from the Patriarch's unaided.</p> + +<p>Madison began to experience a strange, exhilarating sense of uplift upon +him, a sort of rather commendatory and gratified feeling with himself. +Marvin had hit it pretty nearly right with his "clean-wholesomeness" +idea—it kind of made one feel good to be a part of it. Madison, for the +time being, relegated Helena and his immediate mission to a secondary +place in his thoughts.</p> + +<p>Young girls, young men, middle-aged men, elderly women, all ages of both +sexes he passed as he went along; some alone, some in couples, some in +little groups, some on crutches, some in wheel-chairs, some walking +without extraneous aid—he had turned into the woods now, and he could +see them strewn out all along the wagon track under the cool, +interlacing branches overhead.</p> + +<p>Now he stepped aside to let a wagon pass him, and answered the farmer's +call and the smile of the occupants in kind; now some one stopped to +tell him again the story of the afternoon—there had been cures that day +and the Patriarch had come amongst them. Some laughed, some sang a +little, softly, to themselves—all smiled—all spoke in glad, hopeful +words, clean words—there seemed no base thought in any mind, only that<!-- Page 201 --> +cleanness, that wholesomeness that had so appealed to Marvin—that +somehow Madison found he was taking a delight in responding to, and, +because it afforded him whimsical pleasure, chose to pretend that he was +quite a genuine exponent of it himself.</p> + +<p>He reached the end of the wagon track, and paused involuntarily on the +edge of the Patriarch's lawn as he came out from the trees. Like low, +lulling music came the distant, mellowed noise of waters, the breaking +surf. And the cottage was a bower of green now, clothed in ivy and +vine—upon the trellises the early roses were budding—fragrance of +growing things blended with the salt, invigorating breeze from the +ocean. And upon the lawn, flanked with its sturdy maples, all in leaf, +that toned the sunshine in soft-falling shadows, stood, or sat, or +reclined on cots, the supplicants who still tarried though the Patriarch +had gone. And now one came reverently out of the cottage door from that +room that was never closed; now another went in—and still another.</p> + +<p>Madison smiled suddenly, broadly, with immense satisfaction and +contentment—and then his eyes fixed quite as suddenly on the +single-seated buggy that was coming toward him on the driveway across +the lawn. That was Mamie Rodgers driving—and that was Helena beside +her.</p> + +<p>Madison recalled instantly the object of his visit—and instantly he +whistled a rather surprised little whistle under his breath. How +alluringly Helena's brown hair coiled in wavy wealth upon<!-- Page 202 --> her head; +there wasn't any need of rouge for color in the oval face; the dark eyes +were soft and deep and glorious; and she sat there in a little white +muslin frock as dainty as a medallion from a master's brush.</p> + +<p>"Say," said Madison to himself, "say, I never quite got it before. Say, +she's—she's lovely—and that's my Helena. It's no wonder +Thornton stared at her that day we touched him for the fifty, +and"—suddenly—"damn Thornton!"</p> + +<p>But the buggy was beside him now, and he lifted his hat as Mamie Rodgers +pulled up the horse.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Miss Rodgers," he said. "Good afternoon, Miss Vail—how +is the Patriarch to-day?"</p> + +<p>"He is very well, thank you," Helena answered—and being custodian of +the whip brushed a fly off the horse's flank.</p> + +<p>"I was just coming out to pay you a little visit," remarked Madison, +trying to catch her eye.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm <i>so</i> sorry!" said Helena sweetly, still busy with the fly. +"Mamie is going to take me for a drive—and afterwards we are going to +her house for tea."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Madison, a little blankly.</p> + +<p>Helena smiled at him, nodded, and touched the horse with the whip—and +then she leaned suddenly out toward him, as the buggy started forward.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Madison," she called, "I forgot to tell you! I had a letter +from Mr. Thornton to-day—and he's coming back to-morrow."<!-- Page 203 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>—XVII—</h2> + +<h4>IN WHICH HELENA TAKES A RIDE</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>The wind kissed Helena's face, bringing dainty color to her cheeks, +tossing truant wisps of hair this way and that, as the car swept onward. +But she sat strangely silent now beside Thornton at the steering wheel.</p> + +<p>It seemed to her that she was living, not her own life, not life as she +had known and looked upon it in the years before, but living, as it +were, in a strange, suspended state that was neither real nor unreal, as +in a dream that led her, now through cool, deep forests, beside clear, +sparkling streams where all was a great peace and the soul was at rest, +serene, untroubled, now into desolate places where misery had its birth +and shame was, where there was fear, and the mind stood staggered and +appalled and lost and knew not how to guide her that she might flee from +it all.</p> + +<p>At moments most unexpected, as now when motoring with Thornton in the +car that he had brought back with him on, his return to Needley, when +laughing at the Flopper's determined pursuit of Mamie Rodgers, when +engaged in the homely, practical details of housekeeping about the +cottage, there came flashing suddenly upon her<!-- Page 204 --> the picture of Mrs. +Thornton lying on the brass bed in the car compartment that night, every +line of the pale, gentle face as vivid, as actual as though it were once +more before her in reality, and in her ears rang again, stabbing her +with their unmeant condemnation, those words of sweetness, love and +purity that held her up to gaze upon herself in ghastly, terrifying +mockery.</p> + +<p>It stupified her, bewildered her, frightened her. She seemed, for days +and weeks now, to be drifting with a current that, eddying, swirling, +swept her this way and that. How wonderful it was, this life she was now +leading compared with the old life—so full of the better things, the +better emotions, the better thoughts that she had never known before! +How monstrous in its irony that she was leading it to <i>steal</i>, that she +might play her part in a criminal scheme for a criminal end! And yet, +somehow, it did not all seem sham, this part she played—and that very +thought, too, frightened her. Why was it now that Madison's +oft-attempted, and as oft-repulsed, kiss upon her lips was something +from which she shrank and battled back, no longer from a sense of pique +or to bring him to his knees, but because something new within her, +intangible, that she did not understand, rose up against it! Why did she +do this—she, who had known the depths, who had known no other guide or +mentor than the turbulent, passionate love she had yielded him and in +her abandonment had once found contentment! Was her love for him gone? +Or, if it was not that—what was it?<!-- Page 205 --></p> + +<p>What was it? A week, another, two more, a month had slipped away since +Thornton had returned, and there had been so much of genuineness crowded +into this sham part of hers that it seemed at times the part itself was +genuine. She had come to love that little room of hers, love it for its +dear simplicity, the white muslin curtains, the rag mat, the patch-quilt +on the bed; those daily duties of a woman, that she had never done +before, that she had at first looked at askance, brought now a sense of +keen, housewifely pride; the gentle patience of the Patriarch, his love +for her, his simple trust in her had found a quick and instant response +in her own heart, and daily her affection for him had grown; and there +was Thornton—this man beside her, whose companionship somehow she +seemed to crave for, who, in his grave, quiet manliness, seemed a sort +of inspiration to her, who seemed in a curious way to appease a new +hunger that had come to her for association, for contact with better +thoughts and better ideals.</p> + +<p>What was it? Environment? Yes; there must be something in that. It was +having its effect even on Pale Face Harry and the Flopper. What was it +that Harry, a surprisingly lusty farmhand now, had said to her a week or +so ago: "Say, Helena, do you ever feel that while you was trying to kid +the crowd about this living on the square, you was kind of getting +kidded yourself? I dunno! I ain't coughed for a month—honest. But it +ain't only that. Say—I dunno! Do you ever feel that way?"<!-- Page 206 --></p> + +<p>Yes; there must be something in environment. The old life had never +brought her thoughts such as these, thoughts that had been with her now +almost since the first day she had come to Needley—this disquiet, this +self-questioning, these sudden floods of condemnatory confusion; and, +mingling with them, a startled thrill, a strange, half-glad, +half-premonitory awakening, a vague pronouncement that innately it might +be true that she was not what she <i>really</i> was—but what all those +around her held her to be—what Mrs. Thornton had said she was—and—</p> + +<p>Her fingers closed with a quick, fierce pressure on the arm-rest of her +seat—and she shifted her position with a sudden, involuntary movement.</p> + +<p>Thornton, a road-map tacked on a piece of board and propped up at his +feet, raised his head, and, self-occupied himself, had apparently not +noticed her silence, for he spoke irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't mind if the road is a bit rougher than usual for a few +miles," he said; "but you know we decided we didn't like the looks of +the weather at tea-time, and according to the map, which labels it +'rough but passable,' this is a short cut that will lop off about ten +miles and take us back to Needley through Barton's Mills."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I don't mind," Helena answered. "How far are we from +Needley?"</p> + +<p>"About thirty-five miles or so," Thornton replied. "Say, an hour and a +half with any kind of going at all. We ought to be back by nine."</p> + +<p>Helena nodded brightly and leaned back in her<!-- Page 207 --> seat. Rather than +objecting to the short cut that Thornton had begun to negotiate, the +road, now that she gave her attention to it, she found to be quite the +prettiest bit she had seen in the whole afternoon's run, where, in the +rough, sparsely settled north country, all was both pretty and a +delight—miles and miles without the sign of even a farmhouse, just the +great Maine forests, so majestic and grand in their solitude, bordering +the road that undulated with the country, now to a rise with its +magnificent sweep of scenery, now to the cool, fresh valleys full of the +sweet pine-scent of the woods. They had explored much of it together in +the little 'run-about,' nearly every day a short spin somewhere; to-day +a little more ambitious run—the whole afternoon, and tea, a picnic tea, +an hour or more back, in a charming glade beside a little brook.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is perfectly lovely!" she exclaimed; and then, with a +breathless laugh, as a bump lifted her out of her seat: "It <i>is</i> +rough—isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Thornton laughed and slowed down.</p> + +<p>"I don't fancy it's used much, except in the winter for logging. But if +the map says we can get through, I guess we're all right—there's about +an eight mile stretch of it."</p> + +<p>It was growing dusk, and the shadows, fanciful and picturesque; were +deepening around them. Now it showed a solid mass of green ahead, and, +like a sylvan path, the road, converging in the distance, lost itself in +a wall of foliage; now it<!-- Page 208 --> swerved rapidly, this way and that, in short +curves, as though, like one lost, it sought its way.</p> + +<p>A half hour passed. Thornton stopped the car, got down and lighted his +lamps, then started on again. The going had seemed to be growing +steadily worse—the road, as Thornton had said, was little more indeed +than a logging trail through the heart of the woods; and now, deeper in, +with increasing frequency, the tires slipped and skidded on damp, moist +earth that at times approached very nearly to being oozy mud.</p> + +<p>Silence for a long while had held between them. It was taking Thornton +all his time now to guide the car, that, negotiating fallen branches +strewn across the way, bad holes and ruts, was crawling at a snail's +pace.</p> + +<p>"'Rough but passable'!" he laughed once, clambering back to his seat +after clearing away a dead tree-trunk from in front of them. "But +there's no use trying to go back, as we must be halfway through, and it +can't be any worse ahead than it's been behind. I'd like to tell the +fellow that made this map something!"</p> + +<p>And then upon Helena, just why she could not tell, began to steal an +uneasiness that frightened her a little. It had grown suddenly, +intensely dark—quicker than the slow, creeping change of dusk blending +softly into night. Sort of eerie, it seemed—and a wind springing up and +rustling through the branches made strange noises all about. They seemed +to be shut in by a wall of blackness on every hand, except ahead where, +like<!-- Page 209 --> great streaming eyes of fire, the powerful lamps shot out their +rays making weird color effects in the forest—huge tree-trunks loomed a +dead drab, like mute sentinels, grim and ominous, that barred their way; +now, in the full glare, the foliage took on the softest fairy shade of +green; now, tapering off, heavier in color, it merged into impenetrable +black; and, with the jouncing of the car, the light rays jiggling up and +down gave an unnatural semblance as of moving, animate things before +them, a myriad of them, ever retreating, but ever marshalling their +forces again as though threatening attack, as though to oppose the car's +advance.</p> + +<p>What was there to be afraid of? She tried to laugh at herself—it was +perfectly ridiculous. A little bit of rough road—the forest that she +loved around her—even if it was very dark. They would come out +eventually somewhere on the trunk-road to Barton's Mills—that was all +there was to it. Meanwhile, it was quite an experience, and she had +every confidence in Thornton. She glanced at him now. It was too dark to +get more than an indistinct outline of the clean-cut profile, but there +was something inspiriting in the alert, self-possessed, competent poise +of his body as he crouched well forward over the wheel, his eyes never +lifting from the road ahead.</p> + +<p>They appeared to be going a little faster now, too—undoubtedly the road +was getting better. What was there to be afraid of? It didn't make it +any more pleasant for Thornton, who was probably reproaching himself +rather bitterly for having<!-- Page 210 --> been tempted by the "short cut," to have her +sit and mope beside him!</p> + +<p>She began to hum an air softly to herself—and then laughingly sang a +bar or two aloud.</p> + +<p>Thornton shot a quick, appreciative glance at her and nodded, joining in +the laugh.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he said approvingly. "That sounds good to me. I was afraid +this beastly stretch, bumping and crawling along in the dark, was making +you miserable."</p> + +<p>"Miserable!" exclaimed Helena. "Why, the idea! What is there to be +miserable about? We'll get through after a while—and the road's better +now than it was anyhow, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Better?"</p> + +<p>"You're running faster."</p> + +<p>"Oh—er—yes, of course," said Thornton quickly. "I wasn't thinking of +what I said. I—"</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly, as Helena lifted her hand to her face.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's beginning to rain," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm afraid so," he admitted. "I was hoping we would get out of +here before it came."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Helena.</p> + +<p>"And the worst of it is," he added hurriedly, "there's no top to the +car, and you've no wraps."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it won't be anything more than a shower," said Helena +hopefully.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," he agreed. "Anyway"—he stopped the car, and took off his +coat—"put this on."<!-- Page 211 --></p> + +<p>"No—please," protested Helena. "You'll need it yourself."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Thornton cheerily. "And that light dress of yours +would be soaked through in no time."</p> + +<p>He held the coat for her, and she slipped it on—and his hand around her +shoulder and neck, as he turned the collar up and buttoned it gently +about her, seemed to linger as it touched her throat, and yet linger +with the most curious diffidence—a sort of reverence. Helena suddenly +wanted to laugh—and, quick in her intuition, as suddenly wanted to cry. +It wasn't much—only a little touch. It didn't mean love, or passion, or +feeling—only that, unconsciously in his respect, he held her up to gaze +upon herself again in that mocking mirror where all was sham.</p> + +<p>They started on—Thornton silent once more, busy with the car; Helena, +her mind in riot, with no wish for words.</p> + +<p>The rain came steadily in a drizzle. She could feel her dress growing +damp around her knees—and she shivered a little. How strangely +wonderful the rain-beads looked on their background of green leaves +where the lamps played upon them—they seemed to catch and hold and +reflect back the light in a quick, passing procession of clear, +sparkling crystals. But it was raining more heavily now, wasn't it? The +drops were no longer clinging to the leaves, they were spattering dull +and lustrelessly to the ground. And Thornton seemed suddenly to be in +trouble—he was bending down<!-- Page 212 --> working at something. How jerkily the car +was moving! And now it stopped.</p> + +<p>Thornton swung out of his seat to the ground.</p> + +<p>"It's all right!" he called out reassuringly. "I'll have it fixed in a +minute."</p> + +<p>It was muddy enough now, and the ruts, holding the rain, were regular +wheel-traps. Apart from any other trouble, Thornton did not like the +prospect—and, away from Helena now, his face was serious. He cranked +the engine—no result. He tried it again with equal futility—then, +going to the tool-box, he took out his electric flashlight, and, lifting +the engine hood, began to peer into the machinery. Everything seemed all +right. He tried the crank again—the engine, like some cold, dead thing, +refused to respond.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Helena asked him from the car.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Thornton answered lightly. "I haven't found out yet—but +don't you worry, it's nothing serious. I'll have it in a jiffy."</p> + +<p>Helena's knowledge of motor cars and engine trouble was not +extensive—she was conversant only with the "fool's mate" of motoring.</p> + +<p>"Maybe there's no gasoline," she suggested helpfully.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" returned Thornton, with a laugh. "I told Babson to see that +the tank was full before he brought the car around—he wouldn't forget a +thing like that."</p> + +<p>Thornton, nevertheless, tested the gasoline tank.<!-- Page 213 --></p> + +<p>"Well?" inquired Helena, breaking the silence that followed.</p> + +<p>"There is no—gasoline," said Thornton heavily.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke for a moment. There was no sound but the steady drip from +the leaves. Then Helena forced a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it ridiculous!" she said. "That is what one is always making fun +of others for. I—I don't think it's going to stop raining—do you? And +we're miles and miles from anywhere. What <i>do</i> people do when they're +caught like this?"</p> + +<p>Thornton did not answer at once. Bitterly reproachful with himself, he +stood there coatless in the rain. If it had been a breakdown, an +accident that was unavoidable, a little of the sting might have gone out +of the situation—but <i>gasoline</i>! This—from rank, blatant, glaring, +inexcusable idiocy. Not on his part perhaps—but that did not lessen his +responsibility. They were miles, as she had said, from anywhere—four +miles at least in either direction from the main road, and as many more +probably after that from any farmhouse—he remembered that for half an +hour before they had turned into the "short cut" they had seen no sign +of habitation—and what lay in the other direction, ahead, would in all +probability be the same—they were up in the timber regions, in the +heart of them—she couldn't walk miles in the rain with the roads in a +vile condition, and growing viler every minute as the rain sank in and +the mud grew<!-- Page 214 --> deeper. And then another thought—a thought that came now, +sharp and quick, engulfing the mere discomfort of a miserable night +spent there in the woods—the clatter of busy, gossiping tongues seemed +already to be dinning their abominable noises in his ears. And that he, +that he—yes, it seemed to sweep upon him in a sudden, overmastering +surge, the realization that the delight and joy of her companionship +through the month that was gone was love that leaped now into fierce, +jealous flame, maddened at a breath that would smirch her in the eyes of +others—that <i>he</i> should be the cause of it! "What <i>do</i> people do when +they're caught like this?"—in their innocence there seemed an +unfathomed depth of irony in her words, but as he unconsciously repeated +them they cleared his brain and brought him suddenly to face the +immediate practical problem that confronted them. What was to be done?</p> + +<p>"Shall—shall I get out?" she called to him, a hint of reminder in her +tones that she had spoken to him before and received no answer.</p> + +<p>Thornton moved back to the side of the car.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vail," he said contritely, "I—I don't know what to say to you for +getting you into this. I—"</p> + +<p>"I know," she interrupted quickly, leaning over the side of the car and +placing her hand on his arm. "Don't try to say anything. It's not your +fault—it's not either of our faults. Now tell me what you think the +best thing is to do, and, you'll<!-- Page 215 --> see, I'll make the best of it—there's +no use being miserable about it."</p> + +<p>"You're a game little woman!" he said earnestly, quite unnecessarily +clasping the hand on his arm and wringing it to endorse his verdict. +"And that makes it a lot easier, you know. Well then, we might as well +face the whole truth at one fell swoop. We're up against it"—he laughed +cheerfully—"hard. It's miles to anywhere—we don't know where +'anywhere' is—and of course you can't walk aimlessly around in the mud +and rain."</p> + +<p>"N—no," she said thoughtfully. "I suppose there's no sense in that."</p> + +<p>"And of course you can't sit out here in the wet all night."</p> + +<p>"That sounds comforting—propitious even," commented Helena.</p> + +<p>"Quite!" agreed Thornton, laughing again. "Well, you wait here a moment, +and I'll see if I can't knock up some sort of shelter—I used to be +pretty good at that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"And I'll help," announced Helena, preparing to get out.</p> + +<p>"By keeping at least your feet dry," he amended. "No—please. Just stay +where you are, Miss Vail. You'll get as much protection here from the +branches overhead as you will anywhere meanwhile, and you'll be more +comfortable."</p> + +<p>She watched him as he disappeared into the<!-- Page 216 --> wood, and after that, like a +flitting will-o'-the-wisp, watched his flashlight moving about amongst +the trees. Then presently the cheery blaze of a fire from where he was +at work sprang up, and she heard the crackle of resinous pine +knots—then a great crashing about, the snapping of branches as he broke +them from larger limbs—and a rapid fire of small talk from him as he +worked.</p> + +<p>Helena answered him more or less mechanically—her mind, roving from one +consideration of their plight to another, had caught at a certain +viewpoint and was groping with it. They were stalled more effectively +than any accident to the car could have stalled them—they were there +for the night, there seemed no escape from that. But there was nothing +to be afraid of. She had no fears about passing the night alone with him +here in the woods—why should she? <i>Why should she!</i> She laughed low, +suddenly, bitterly. Why should she—even if he were other than the man +he was, even if he were of the lowest type! Fear—of <i>that</i>! A yearning, +so intense as for an instant to leave her weak, swept upon her—a +yearning full of pain, of shame, of remorse, of hopelessness—oh, God, +if only she might have had the <i>right</i> to fear! Then passion seized her +in wild, turbulent unrestraint—hatred for this clean-limbed, +pure-minded man, who flaunted all that his life stood for in her +face—hatred for everybody in this life of hers, for all were good save +her—hatred, miserable, unbridled hatred for herself.<!-- Page 217 --></p> + +<p>And then it passed, the mood—and she tried to think more calmly, still +answering him as he called from the woods. She had seen a great deal of +Thornton lately—a great deal. He had been kind and thoughtful and +considerate—nothing more. More! What more could there have been? Love! +There was something of mockery in that, wasn't there? Everything she +thought about lately, every way her mind turned seemed to hold something +of mockery now. Of course, Mrs. Thornton's words expressing the wish +that she and Thornton might come together had been often enough with +her—mockingly again!—but Thornton could have known nothing of +that—so, after all, what did that matter? She had snatched at every +opportunity to motor with Thornton despite Doc's protests, protests that +had grown sullen and angry of late—snatched at the opportunities +eagerly, as she would snatch at a breath of air where all else stifled +her—snatched at them because they took her out of herself temporarily, +away from everything, where everything at times seemed to be driving her +mad. Hate Thornton! No, of course, she didn't hate him—she had thought +that a moment ago because—because her brain was—was—oh, she didn't +know—so tired and weary, and she was cold now and quite wet. She didn't +hate him, she even—</p> + +<p>"All ready now—house to let furnished"—he was calling out, laughing as +he came thrashing through the undergrowth—"excellent situation, high +altitude, luxuriant pine grove surrounds the<!-- Page 218 --> property, and—and"—he +had halted beside the car and opened the door—"what else do they say?"</p> + +<p>Helena caught his spirit—or, rather, forced herself to do so. It wasn't +quite fair that one of them should do all the pretending.</p> + +<p>"Flies," she laughed. "They always speak of flies in Maine."</p> + +<p>"None!" said Thornton promptly. "There hasn't been one since the house +was built. Now then, Miss Vail"—he held out his arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but really, I can walk."</p> + +<p>"And I can carry you," he said—and, from the step, gathered her into +his arms.</p> + +<p>And then, as she lay there passively at first, she seemed to sense again +that curious diffidence, that gentleness, like the touch upon her throat +of a little while ago, though now he held her in both his arms. How +strong he was—and, oh, how miserably wet—her hand around his shoulder +felt the thin shirt clinging soggily to his arm. Yes; she was glad he +hadn't let her walk—it wasn't far, but she would have had to force her +way continually through bushes that scattered showers from their +dripping leaves, and underfoot she could hear his boots squash through +the mud. And then suddenly it happened—the trees, just a yard or so +from the fire, were thick together, tangled—she bent her head quickly, +instinctively, to avoid a low-hanging branch as he for the same reason +swerved a little—and their cheeks lay close-pressed against each +other's, her hair sweeping<!-- Page 219 --> his forehead, their lips mingling one +another's breaths. He seemed to stumble—then his arms closed about her +in a quick, fierce pressure, clasping her, straining her to him—relaxed +as suddenly—and then he had set her down inside the shelter he had +built.</p> + +<p>Quick her breath was coming now, and across the fire for a moment she +met his eyes. His face was gray, and his hands at his sides were +clenched.</p> + +<p>"I'll—I'll get the seat out of the car," he said hoarsely. "It will +help to make things more comfortable." And turning abruptly, he started +back for the road again.</p> + +<p>Helena did not move. Mechanically her eyes took in the little hut, +crude, but rainproof at least—branches heaped across two forked limbs +for a roof; the trunk of a big tree for the rear wall; branches thrust +upright into the ground for the sides—the whole a little triangular +shaped affair. The fire blazed in front just within shelter at the +entrance; and beside it was piled quite a little heap of fuel that he +had gathered.</p> + +<p>He came back bringing the leather upholstered seat, shook the rain from +it, and dried it with the help of the fire and his handkerchief—then +set it down inside the hut. His face was turned from her; and as he +spoke, breaking an awkward silence, his voice was conscious, hurried.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to be gone a minute more than I can help, Miss Vail. It's +mighty rough accommodation for you, but there's one consolation at +least—you'll be perfectly safe."<!-- Page 220 --></p> + +<p>Helena seated herself, and held her skirt to the fire.</p> + +<p>"Gone!" she said, a little dully. "Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to get help of course," he told her.</p> + +<p>"Help!"—she shook her head. "You don't know where to find any—you only +know for a certainty that there isn't any within miles."</p> + +<p>"I know there's a house back on the main road," he said. "I noticed it +as we came along."</p> + +<p>"That's seven or eight miles from here," she returned. "And it's raining +harder than ever—mud up to your ankles—it would take you hours to +reach it."</p> + +<p>"Possibly two, or two and a half," he said lightly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and another two at least to get back. I won't hear of you doing +any such thing—you are wet through now. It's far better to wait for +daylight and then probably the storm will be over."</p> + +<p>"But don't you see, Miss Vail"—his voice was suddenly grave, +masterful—"don't you see that there is no other thing to do?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Helena. "I don't see anything of the kind. I won't have you +do anything like that for me—it's not to be thought of."</p> + +<p>Thornton stooped, placed a knot upon the fire, straightened up—and +faced her.</p> + +<p>"It's awfully good of you to think of me," he said in a low tone; "but, +really, it won't be half as bad as you are picturing it in your mind. +And really"—he hesitated, fumbling for his words—"you<!-- Page 221 --> see—that +is—what other people might say—your—reputation—"</p> + +<p>With a sudden cry, white-faced, Helena was on her feet, staring at him, +her hands clutched at her bosom—a wild, demoniacal, mocking orgy in her +soul. Her reputation! It seemed she wanted to scream out the words—<i>her +reputation</i>!</p> + +<p>Thornton's face flushed with a quick-sweeping flood of crimson.</p> + +<p>"I'm a brute—a brute with a blundering tongue!" he cried miserably. +"You had not thought of that—and I made you. I could have found another +excuse for going if I had only had wit enough. I was a brute once before +to-night, and—" He stopped, and for a moment stood there looking at +her, stood in the firelight, his face white again even in the ruddy +glow—and then he was gone.</p> + +<p>Time passed without meaning to Helena. The steady patter of the rain was +on the leaves, the sullen, constant drip of water to the ground, and +now, occasionally, a rush of wind, a heavier downpour. She sat before +the fire, staring into it, her elbows on her knees, her face held +tightly in her hands, the brown hair, wet and wayward now, about her +temples. Once she moved, once her eyes changed their direction—to fix +upon her sleeve in a strange, questioning surprise.</p> + +<p>"I let him go without his coat," she said.<!-- Page 222 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>—XVIII—</h2> + +<h4>THE BOOMERANG</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>It was early afternoon, as Madison, emerging from the wagon track, and +walking slowly, started across the lawn toward the Patriarch's cottage. +He was in a mood that he made no attempt to define—except that it +wasn't a very pleasant mood. Before Thornton had returned to Needley it +had been bad enough, after that, with his infernal car, it had +been—hell.</p> + +<p>Madison's fists clenched, and his gray eyes glinted angrily. His hands +had been tied like a baby's—like a damned infant's! Helena was getting +away from him further every day, and he couldn't stop it—without +stopping the game! He couldn't tell Thornton that Helena belonged to +him—had belonged to him! He couldn't even evidence an interest in what +was going on. He had to put on a front, a suave, cordial, dignified +front before Thornton—while he itched to smash the other's face to +pulp! Hell—that's what it was—pure, unadulterated hell! He couldn't +get near Helena alone with a ten-foot pole, morning, noon or night—she +had taken good care of that. And he wanted Helena—he <i>wanted</i> her! It +was an obsession with him now—at times driving him half crazy,—and it +didn't<!-- Page 223 --> help any that he saw her grow more glorious, more beautiful +every day! Of course she knew she had him—had him where she knew he +couldn't do a thing—where she could laugh at him—go the limit with +Thornton if she liked. But, curse it, it wasn't only Thornton—that was +what he could not understand—she had begun to keep away from him before +ever Thornton had come back.</p> + +<p>Madison was near the porch now, and, raising his eyes, noted a +supplicant going into the shrine-room—a woman, richly dressed but in +widow's weeds, who walked feebly. The game went on by itself, once +started—there were half a hundred more about the lawn! Like a snowball +rolling down hill, as he had put it at the Roost. The Roost! If he only +had Helena back there for about a minute there'd be an end of this! +She'd go a little too far one of these days—a little too far—it was +pretty near far enough now—and then there'd be a showdown, game or no +game, and somebody would get hurt in the smash, and—</p> + +<p>He lifted his eyes again, as some one came hurrying through the cottage +door. It was the Flopper. And then to his surprise, he found himself +being pushed unceremoniously from the porch and pulled excitedly behind +the trellis.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you!" he demanded angrily. "Are you crazy!"</p> + +<p>"T'ank de Lord youse have showed up!" gasped the Flopper. "Say, honest, +I can't do nothin' wid him—he's got me near bughouse."<!-- Page 224 --></p> + +<p>"Who?"—Madison scowled irritably.</p> + +<p>"De Patriarch, of course. He's noivous, an' gettin' worse all de time. +He won't eat an' he won't keep still. He wants Helena, an' he keeps +writin' her name on de slate—he's got me going fer fair."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not Helena!" growled Madison. "Why doesn't she go to him?"</p> + +<p>"Now wouldn't dat sting youse!" ejaculated the Flopper. "How's she goin' +to him when she ain't here?"</p> + +<p>"Not here?" repeated Madison sharply. "Where is she?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper looked down his nose.</p> + +<p>"I dunno," said he.</p> + +<p>Madison stared at him for a moment—then he reached out and caught the +Flopper's arm in a sudden and far from gentle grip.</p> + +<p>"Out with it!" he snapped.</p> + +<p>"I dunno where she is," said the Flopper, with some reluctance. "She +ain't back yet, dat's all."</p> + +<p>"Back from where?"—Madison's grip tightened.</p> + +<p>The Flopper blinked.</p> + +<p>"Aw, wot's de use!" he blurted out, as though his mind, suddenly made +up, brought him unbounded relief. "Youse'll find it out anyhow. Say, she +went off wid Thornton in de buzz-wagon yesterday, an' I put de Patriarch +to bed last night 'cause she wasn't back, an' dat's wot's de matter wid +him, she ain't showed up since an' he's near<!-- Page 225 --> off his chump, an'—fer +God's sake let go my arm, Doc, youse're breakin' it!"</p> + +<p>A sort of cold frenzy seemed to seize Madison. He was perfectly calm, he +felt himself perfectly calm and composed. Off all night with +Thornton—eh? Funny, wasn't it? She'd gone pretty far at last—gone the +limit.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you send me word this morning?"—was that his own voice +speaking? Well, he wouldn't have recognized it—but he was perfectly +calm nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"Fer God's sake let go my arm," whimpered the Flopper. "I—I ain't no +squealer, dat's why."</p> + +<p>Madison's arm fell away—to his side. He felt a whiteness creeping to +his face and lips, felt his lips twitch, felt the fingers of his hands +curl in and the nails begin to press into the palms.</p> + +<p>"Mabbe," suggested the Flopper timidly, "mabbe dere was an accident."</p> + +<p>Madison made no answer.</p> + +<p>The Flopper shifted from foot to foot and licked his lips, stealing +frightened glances at Madison's face.</p> + +<p>"Wot—wot'll I do wid de Patriarch?" he stammered out miserably.</p> + +<p>And then Madison smiled at him—not happily, but eloquently.</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" mumbled the Flopper, as he backed out from the trellis. "Dis +love game's fierce—an' mabbe <i>I</i> don't know! 'Sposin' she'd been +Mamie an' me the Doc—'sposin' it<!-- Page 226 --> had!" He gulped hastily. "Swipe me!" +said the Flopper with emotion.</p> + +<p>Madison, motionless, watched the Flopper disappear. He wasn't quite so +calm now, not so cool and collected and composed. He must go somewhere +and think this out—somewhere where it would be quiet and he wouldn't be +disturbed.</p> + +<p>A step sounded on the path—Madison looked through the trellis. A man, +with yellow, unhealthy skin and sunken cheeks, his head bowed, was +passing in through the porch. It caught Madison with fierce, exquisite +irony. Why not go there himself if he wanted quiet—the shrine-room—the +place of meditation! Well, he wanted to <i>meditate</i>! He laughed +jarringly. The shrine-room—for him! Great! Immense! Magnificent! Why +not? That's what he had created it for, wasn't it—to meditate in!</p> + +<p>He stepped inside. The woman, whom he had seen enter a short while +before, was sitting in a sort of rigid, strained attitude in the far +corner; the man, who had just preceded him, had taken the chair by the +fireplace—they were the only occupants of the room. There was no sound +save his own footsteps—neither of the others looked at him. There was +quiet, a profound stillness—and the softened light from the shuttered +window fell mellow all about, fell like a benediction upon the +simplicity of the few plain articles that the room contained—the round +rag mats upon the white-scrubbed floor; the hickory<!-- Page 227 --> chairs, severe, +uncushioned; the table, with its little japanned box and book.</p> + +<p>Madison's eyes fixed upon the japanned box, as he leaned now, arms +folded, against the wall—a jewel, even in the subdued light, glowed +crimson-warm where it nested on a crumpled bed of bank-notes—a ruby +ring—the last contribution—it must have been the woman who had placed +it there. Madison glanced at her involuntarily—but his thoughts were +far away again in a moment.</p> + +<p>Anger and a blind rage of jealousy were gripping him now. <i>Accident!</i> +The thought only fanned his fury. Accident! Yes; it was likely—as an +excuse! There would have been an accident all right—leave that to them! +Thornton perhaps wasn't the stamp of man to seek an adventure of that +kind deliberately—perhaps he wasn't—and perhaps he was—you never +could tell—but what difference did that make! <i>Helena was that kind of +a woman</i>—though he'd always thought her true to him since he'd known +her—and Thornton, whatever kind of a man he was, wouldn't run away from +her arms, would he?</p> + +<p>The red glow from the ruby ring had vanished—the man had risen from his +seat and was placing something in the box on top of the ring—Madison's +mind subconsciously absorbed the fact that it was a little sheaf of +yellow-backed bills. And now the man bent to the table and was writing +in the book.<!-- Page 228 --></p> + +<p>Yellow-backs and rubies! Rubies and yellowbacks! Madison's lips thinned +and curled downward at the corners. Oh, it was coming all right, money, +jewels, pelf, rolling in merrily every day, there wasn't any stopping +it, but he was paying for it, and paying for it at a price he didn't +like—Helena. Helena! She wanted Thornton, did she—with his money! +Wanted to dangle a millionaire on her string—eh? She'd throw him +over—would she! And she thought she had him where he couldn't lift a +finger to stop it—just sit back and grin like a poor, sick fool!</p> + +<p>The red crept up the knotted cords of Madison's neck, suffused the set +jaws, and, as though suddenly liberated to run its course where it +would, swept in a tide over cheeks and temples.</p> + +<p>He couldn't do a thing—<i>couldn't he!</i> Well, he'd see the game in +Gehenna before Thornton or any other man got her away from him. She +belonged to him—to <i>him!</i> And he'd have her, hold her, own her—she was +his—<i>his!</i> And he'd settle with Thornton too, by Heaven!</p> + +<p>A laugh, low, unpleasant, purled to his lips—and he checked it with a +sort of strange mechanical realization that he must not laugh aloud. His +eyes swept the room—the man had returned to his seat, the woman had not +moved, both were silent, motionless—that ghastly, hallowed, +sanctimonious hush—that subdued, damnable light—meditation!</p> + +<p>"For God's sake let me get out of here," he muttered, "or I'll go mad."<!-- Page 229 --></p> + +<p>He turned—and stopped. Came a cry spontaneously from the man and the +woman—they were on their feet—no, on their knees. The doorway at the +further end of the room was framing a majestic figure, tall and +stately—and a sun-gleam struggling suddenly through the lattice seemed +to leap in a golden ray to caress in homage the snow-white hair, the +silver beard that fell upon the breast, the saintly face of the +Patriarch.</p> + +<p>Then into the room advanced the Patriarch, and his hands were +outstretched before him, and he moved them a little to and fro—and the +gesture, the poise, the mien, as, touching nothing he seemed to feel his +way through space itself, was as one invoking a blessing of peace +ineffable.</p> + +<p>Spellbound, Madison watched. Upon the face was a yearning that saddened +it, and, saddening, glorified it; the head was slightly turned as though +to listen—while slowly, with measured, certain tread, as though indeed +he had no need for eyes, the Patriarch circled the table and passed on +down the room. The man and the woman reached out and touched him +reverently, and drew back reverently to let him pass, and, rising from +their knees, followed him through the door and out onto the porch.</p> + +<p>The room was empty. Madison stared at the doorway. Upon him fell a +sudden awe—it was as though a vision, an ethereal presence, some +strange embodiment of power, had been and gone—and yet still remained.<!-- Page 230 --></p> + +<p>And now from without there came a sound like a distant murmur. It rose +and swelled, and began to roll in its volume, and then, like the clarion +sound of trumpets, voices burst into glad acclaim.</p> + +<p>"The Patriarch! The Patriarch! The Patriarch!"</p> + +<p>From the little hallway came the Flopper, running—and he stopped and +gaped at Madison.</p> + +<p>"I left him in his room fer a minute," he gasped. "He's—he's lookin' +fer Helena."</p> + +<p>And then Madison shook himself together—and smiled ironically. And at +the smile the Flopper hurried on.</p> + +<p>Madison stepped out onto the porch. Helena! Helena! Within him seemed to +burn a rage of hell; but it seemed, too, most strangely that for the +moment this rage was held in abeyance, that something temporarily +supplanted it—this scene before him.</p> + +<p>Onward across the lawn moved the Patriarch, and the Flopper had joined +him now; but the Patriarch, unheeding, turning neither to the right nor +to the left, his arms still extended before him, kept on. And the people +cried aloud:</p> + +<p>"He is coming—he is coming! The Patriarch! The Patriarch!"</p> + +<p>Madison moved on—out upon the lawn himself.</p> + +<p>From everywhere, from every scattered spot where they had been, men and +women ran and<!-- Page 231 --> limped and dragged themselves along, all converging on +one point—the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>Madison, in the midst of them now, hurried—for it was plainly evident +that the Flopper's control over the Patriarch was gone. He reached the +Patriarch and touched the other's arm—and at the touch the Patriarch +halted instantly, his hand went out and lay upon Madison's sleeve in +recognition, and he turned his face, and it was smiling and there was +relief upon it—and confidence and trust, as, suffering himself to be +guided, they started back toward the cottage.</p> + +<p>And then upon Madison came again that sense of awe, but now intensified. +From every hand tear-stained faces greeted him, white faces, faces full +of sorrow and suffering through which struggled hope—hope—hope. They +flung themselves before the Patriarch—yet never blocked the way. They +cried, they wept, they prayed—and some were silent. It seemed that +souls, naked, stripped, bare, held themselves up to his gaze. Men, +prostrate on stretchers, tried to rise and stagger nearer—and fell. +Friends, where there were friends to help, tugged and dragged +desperately at cots—and from the cots in piteous, agonized appeal the +helpless cried out to the Patriarch to come to them. All of human agony +and fear and hope and despair and terror seemed loosed in a mad and +swirling vortex. And ever the cries arose, and ever around them, giving +way, closing in again, pressed the soul-rent throng.<!-- Page 232 --></p> + +<p>And presently to Madison it seemed as though he had awakened from some +terrifying dream, as, in the Patriarch's room again, he swept away a +bead of sweat from his forehead, and stood and looked at the Patriarch +and the Flopper.</p> + +<p>The Flopper licked his lips, and pulled the Patriarch's chair +forward—but his hands trembled violently.</p> + +<p>"It's been gettin' me, Doc," he whispered, "an' I can't help it. It's +been gettin' into me all de time. Say, I wisht it was over. Honest to +God I do! Dis—dis makes me queer. Say, de Patriarch's got me, +Doc—an'—an'—say—dere's been somethin' goin' on inside me dat's got +me hard."</p> + +<p>Madison did not answer—but he started suddenly—and as suddenly +stepped to the window and looked out. Over the cries, the wailings, the +confused medley of voices, growing lower now, subsiding, there had come +the throb of a motor car.</p> + +<p>Madison's eyes narrowed—<i>that</i> was supreme again. A car was coming to a +stop before the porch—Thornton was helping Helena to alight.</p> + +<p>Madison turned and caught the Flopper's arm in a fierce, imperative +grasp.</p> + +<p>"You keep your mouth shut—do you hear?" he flung out, clipping off his +words. "You haven't seen me to-day—understand!" And, dropping the +Flopper's arm, he stepped quickly across the little hall to Helena's +door, opened it, went in—and closed the door behind him.<!-- Page 233 --></p> + +<p>And the Flopper, staring, licked his lips again.</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" he croaked hoarsely. "Pipe de eyes on de Doc! Dere'll be +somethin' doin' now!"<!-- Page 234 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>—XIX—</h2> + +<h4>THE SANCTUARY OF DARKNESS</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>There was a grim, merciless smile on Madison's lips; and a whiteness in +his face windowed the passion that seethed within him. He stood +motionless, listening, in Helena's room. He heard the automobile going +away again; then he heard Helena's light step in the hallway +without—and the smile died as his lips thinned.</p> + +<p>But she did not come in—instead, he heard her go into the Patriarch's +room, heard her talking to the Patriarch, and bid the Flopper go to the +kitchen and make her some tea. Then the Flopper's step sounded, passing +down to the rear, of the cottage.</p> + +<p>The minutes passed—then that light footfall again. The door of the room +swung suddenly wide—and closed—there was a cry—and Helena, wide-eyed, +the red of her cheeks fading away, leaned heavily back against the door.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke. Madison, in the center of the room, did not move. The +smile came back to his lips.</p> + +<p>Helena's great brown eyes met the gray ones, read the ugly glint, +dropped, raised again—and held the gray ones steadily.<!-- Page 235 --></p> + +<p>Madison gave a short laugh—that was like a curse. His hands at his +sides knotted into lumps.</p> + +<p>Then Madison spoke.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you say, 'you!—<i>you</i>!'—and scream it out and clutch at your +bosom the way they do in story books!" he flung out raucously. "Why +don't you do your little stunt—go on, you're on for the turn—you can +put anything over me, I'm only a complacent, blind-eyed fool! Anything +goes! Why don't you start your act?"</p> + +<p>"You don't know what you are saying," she said in a low voice. "If +there's anything you want to talk about, we'd better wait until you're +cooler."</p> + +<p>"Oh, hell!" he roared, his passion full to the surface now. "Cut out the +bunk—cut it out! <i>Anything</i>! No, it isn't much of anything—for +you—out all night with Thornton. Do you think I'm going to stand for +it! Do you think I'm going to sit and suck my thumb and <i>share</i> you, +and—"</p> + +<p>"You lie!" She was away from the door now, close before him, her breath +coming fast, white to the lips, and in a frenzy her little fists +pummelled upon him. "It's a lie—a lie—a lie! It's a lie—and you know +it!"</p> + +<p>He pushed her roughly from him.</p> + +<p>"It is, eh?"—his words came in a sort of wild laugh. "And I know it—do +I? Why should I know it? What do you think you are? Say, you'd think you +were trying to kid yourself<!-- Page 236 --> into believing you're the real thing—the +real, sweet, shy, modest Miss Vail. Cut it out! You're name's +Smith—maybe! And it's my money that's keeping you, and you belong to +me—do you understand?"</p> + +<p>She stood swaying a little, her hands still tightly clenched, breathing +through half parted lips in short, quick, jerky inhalations like dry +sobs.</p> + +<p>"It's true," she faltered suddenly—and suddenly buried her face in her +hands. And then she looked up again, and the brown eyes in their depths +held an anger and a shame. "It's true—I was—was—what you say. But +now"—her voice hurried on, an eagerness, a strange earnestness in +it—"you must believe me—you must. I'll make you—I must make you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't hurt yourself trying to do it!" jeered Madison. "We're +talking plain now. I'm not taking into account how you feel about it +—don't you fool yourself for a minute. The sanctity of my home hasn't +been ruined—because it couldn't be! Get that? Thornton don't get +you—not for <i>keeps</i>! But you and he don't make a monkey of me again. Do +you understand—say, do you get that? You're <i>mine</i>—whether you like +it or not—whether you'd rather have Thornton or not. But I'll fix you +both for this—I'm no angel with a cherub's smile! I'll take it out of +Thornton till the laugh he's got now fades to a fare-thee-well; and I'll +put you where there aren't any strings tying me up the way there are +here. Do you understand!" His voice rose<!-- Page 237 --> suddenly, and for a moment he +seemed to lose all control of himself as he reached for her and caught +her shoulder. "I love you," he flashed out between his teeth. "I love +you—that's what's the matter with me! And you know that—you know +you've got me there—and you'd play the fool with me, would you!" He +dropped his hands—and laughed a short, savage bark—and stepped back +and stared at her.</p> + +<p>"Will you listen?"—she was twisting her hands, her head was drooped, +the long lashes veiled her eyes, her lips were quivering. "Will you +listen?" she said again, fighting to steady her voice. "It was an +accident."</p> + +<p>"I saw the machine when you drove up—it was a wreck!" snapped Madison +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"We ran out of gasoline," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>And then Madison laughed—fiercely—in his derision.</p> + +<p>"Oh, keep on!" he rasped. "I told you I was only a blind fool that you +could put anything over on! That accounts for it, of course—a breakdown +isn't so easy to get away with. Gasoline!"</p> + +<p>"We were miles from anywhere," she went on. "We had taken what we +thought was a short cut. Mr. Thornton built a shelter for me in the +woods, and went to—to—"</p> + +<p>He caught up her hesitation like a flash.</p> + +<p>"Fake the lines, Helena, if you haven't had enough rehearsals," he +suggested ironically. "Anything goes—with me."<!-- Page 238 --></p> + +<p>And now a tinge of color came to Helena's cheeks, and the brown eyes +raised, and flashed, and dropped.</p> + +<p>"He went to try and find help," she said. "He was out all night in the +storm. I do not know how far he must have walked. I know the nearest +house was five or six miles away—and there was no horse there—the man +had driven to some town that morning. It was almost daylight before Mr. +Thornton at last came back with a team. We were forty miles from +here—we sent the team to the nearest town for gasoline and then motored +back." She stopped—and then, with a catch in her voice: "He—he was +very good to me."</p> + +<p>"Good to me"—the words seemed to stab at Madison, seemed to ring in his +ears and goad him with a fiercer jealousy—and her story of the night, +what she had been saying, save those words, was as nothing, meant +nothing, was swept from his consciousness—and only she, standing there +before him, glorious, maddening in her beauty, remained. Soul, mind and +body leaped into fiery passion—she was his, and his she always would +be—those eyes, those lips, the white throat, those perfect arms to +cling about his neck—and all of heaven and hell and earth were naught +beside her.</p> + +<p>"I love you!"—his face was white, his words fierce-breathed, almost +incoherent—and he leaned toward her with a sudden, uncontrollable +movement, his arms sweeping out to clasp her.<!-- Page 239 --> "I love you, Helena—I +love you. Do you understand—it's <i>you</i>! You—I love you!"</p> + +<p>"You <i>love</i> me!"—she retreated from him, but her head was raised now, +and her voice rang with a bitterness cold as the touch of death. "Love! +What do you know of <i>love</i>! We talk plain, you say. Love—love for me! +Passion, vice, lust, sin—and, oh, my God, degradation and misery and +shame—love! Love! That is <i>your</i> love!"</p> + +<p>He stood for a moment and stared at her again—and her face was as +pallid ivory. And something seemed to daze him, and he brushed his hand +across his eyes—the logic was faulty, torn and pitiful, and he groped +after the flaw.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's your love as well as mine," he said in a stumbling way—then +his brain flashed quick into action. "My love—what other love have +<i>you</i> known but that?" he cried. "It's <i>our</i> love—the love we have +known together—and we're going back to it—see? I've had enough of +this. You pack your trunks—and pack them quick! We're going to beat it +out of here! We're going back to our—love. We're going back where I +don't have to sit around like a puling fool and watch Thornton chuck you +under the chin—we're going where he'll want a tombstone if he ever +shows his face there. You thought the game would hold me to the last +jackpot—did you? Well, I've got enough—and there's no game big enough +to make me stand for this. That looks like love—doesn't it?" He burst +again into a<!-- Page 240 --> sudden, mirthless laugh—and once again swept his +hand across his eyes. "We're going to beat it out of here +now—to-night—to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>But now she had drawn further away from him—and there was a frightened +look in her eyes, and her lips quivered pitifully.</p> + +<p>"No—I can't—I can't," she cried out. "No, no—I can't—I can't go back +to <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"That! That—is love," he said wildly. "The only love you know. What +more do you want? There's loot enough now, and—ha, ha!—that little +contribution of Thornton's, to give you all the money you want. Love, +Helena—you and I—the old love—you and I together again, Helena. I +tell you I love you—do you hear? I love you—and I'll have you—I love +you! What do you know, what do you care about any other kind of love!"</p> + +<p>She looked at him, misery and fear still in her eyes, and her slight +figure seemed to droop, and her hands hung heavy, listless, at her +sides.</p> + +<p>"I care"—the words came in a strange mechanical way from her lips. "Oh, +I care. I can't—I won't go back to that. And I know—I know now. I have +learned what love is."</p> + +<p>Quick over Madison's face surged the red in an unstemmed tide—volcanic +within him his love that he knew now possessed his very soul, jealousy +that, blinding, robbed him of his senses, roused him to frenzy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you've learned what love is, have you—<i>with<!-- Page 241 --> him</i>!" he cried—and +sprang for her and snatched her into his arms. "And you won't come, eh? +Well, I've learned what love is too in the last month—and if I can't +get it one way, I'll get it another"—he was raining mad kisses upon her +face, her hair, her eyes—"I love you, I tell you—I love you!"</p> + +<p>With a cry she tried to struggle from him—and then fought and struck at +him, beating upon his face with her fists. Fiercer, closer he held +her—around the little room, staggering this way and that, they circled. +He kissed her, laughing hoarsely like a madman, laughing at the blows, +beside himself, not knowing what he did—mad—mad—mad. He kissed her, +kissed the white throat where the dress was torn now at the neck; +imprisoned a little fist that struck at him and kissed the quivering +knuckles; kissed the wealth of glorious, burnished-copper hair that, +unloosened, fell about her, kissed it and buried his face in its rare +fragrance. And then—and then his arms were empty—and he was staring at +the calm, majestic figure of the Patriarch—and Helena was crouched upon +the floor, and, sobbing, was clinging with arms entwined around the old +man's knees.</p> + +<p>And so for a little while Madison stood and stared—what had brought the +Patriarch there—the Patriarch who could neither see nor hear nor +speak—what had brought him from his own room across the hall! And +Madison stared, and his hands crept to his temples and pressed upon<!-- Page 242 --> +them—weak he seemed as from some paroxysm of madness that had passed +over him. The sunlight streaming through the window sheened the +luxuriant mass of hair that falling over shoulders and to the waist +seemed alone to cloak the little figure in its crouched position—the +little figure that shook so convulsively with sobs—the little figure +that clung so desperately at the feet of this god-like, regal man, whose +beard was silver, whose hair was hoary white, upon whose face, marring +none its strength or self-possession, was a troubled, anxious, +questioning look.</p> + +<p>Strange! Strange! Madison's hands fell to his sides. The Patriarch's +eyes were turned full upon him, wavering not so much as by the fraction +of an inch—full upon him. And then, as into some holy sanctuary, +fending her from harm and danger, the Patriarch turned a little to +interpose himself before Madison, and, raising Helena, held her in his +arms, her head against his bosom—and one hand lay upon her head and +stroked it tenderly. But upon Madison was still turned those sightless +eyes, that noble face, serene, commanding even in its perturbation, even +in its alert and searching look.</p> + +<p>Madison stirred now—stirred uneasily—while the silence held. There was +a solemnity in the silence that seemed to creep upon and pervade the +room—a sense of a vast something that was the antithesis of turmoil, +passion, strife, that seemed to radiate from the saintly figure whose +lips were mute, whose ears heard no sound, whose<!-- Page 243 --> eyes saw no sight. And +upon Madison it fell potent, masterful, and passion fled, and in its +place came a strange, groping response within him, a revulsion, a +penitence—and he bowed his head.</p> + +<p>And then Helena spoke—but her head was turned away from him, hidden on +the Patriarch's breast.</p> + +<p>"Once," she said, and her words were like broken whispers, for she was +sobbing still, "once, long, long ago, when I was a little girl, I read +the story of Mary Magdalen. I had almost forgotten it, it was so long +ago, but it has come back to me, and—and it is a glad story—at the +end."</p> + +<p>She stopped—and Madison raised his head, and his face was strained as +with some sudden wonder as he looked at her.</p> + +<p>"It is a glad story," she said presently. "It—it is my story."</p> + +<p>"You mean"—Madison's voice was hoarse—"you mean that you've +turned—<i>straight</i>!"</p> + +<p>"They love me here," she said. "They trust me and they think me good—as +they are. All think me that—the little children and this dear man +here—and for a little while, since I have been here, I have lived like +that. They made me believe that it was true—<i>true</i>. And there was shame +and agony—and hope. It seemed they could not all be wrong, and I have +asked and prayed that I might make it true always—and—and forgiveness +for what I was."</p> + +<p>"You mean," he said again hoarsely, and he<!-- Page 244 --> stepped toward her now, "you +mean that you are—<i>straight</i>!"</p> + +<p>She did not answer—only now she turned her face toward him and lifted +up her head.</p> + +<p>And for a long minute Madison gazed into the tear-splashed eyes, deep, +brave in chastened wistfulness, gazed—and like a man stunned walked +from the room, the cottage, and out across the lawn.<!-- Page 245 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>—XX—</h2> + +<h4>TO THE VICTOR ARE THE SPOILS</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>Many were still about the lawn as he left the cottage—they were all +about him, those sick, half frantic creatures—and still they made +noises; still some of them cried and sobbed; still in their waning +paroxysms they moved hither and thither. They appealed to some numbed, +dormant sense in Madison, in a subconscious way, as things to be +avoided. And so, almost mechanically, he took the little path that, +striking off at right angles to the wagon track where it joined the +Patriarch's lawn, came out again upon the main road at the further end +of the village.</p> + +<p>And, as he walked, like tidal waves on-rushing, emotions, utterly at +variance one with another, hurled themselves upon him, and he was swept +from his mental balance, tossed here and there, rolled gasping, +strangling in the chaos and turmoil of the waters, as it were, and, +rising, was hurled back again.</p> + +<p>White as death itself was Madison's face; and at times his fingers with +a twitching movement curled into clenched fists, at times his open palms +sought his temples in a queer wriggling way and pressed upon them. +Doubt, anger, fear, a rage<!-- Page 246 --> unhallowed—in cycles—buffeted him until +his brain reeled, and he was as a man distraught.</p> + +<p>It began at the beginning, that cycle, and dragged him along—and left +him like one swooning, tottering, upon the edge of a precipice. And then +it began over again.</p> + +<p>And it began always with a picture of the Roost that night—the vicious, +unkempt, ragged figure of the Flopper—the sickly, thin, greedy face of +Pale Face Harry, the drug fiend, winching a little as he plunged the +needle into his flesh—the easy, unprincipled gaiety and eagerness of +Helena for the new path of crime—crime—crime—the Roost exuded +crime—filth—immorality—typified them, framed them well as they had +sat there, the four of them, while that bruised-nosed bouncer had +brought them drink on his rattling tin tray. And then his own +self-satisfied, smug, complacent egotism at his own cleverness, his +unbounded confidence in his own ability to pull off the game, and—</p> + +<p>Well, he had pulled it off—he'd won it—won it—won it—everybody had +fallen for it—the boobs had been plentiful—the harvest rich. What was +the matter with him! He'd won—was winning every time the clock ticked. +Somebody back there was probably throwing good hard coin at him this +minute—the damned fool! Madison threw back his head to laugh in +derision, for there was mocking, contemptuous laughter in his soul—but +the laugh died still-born upon his lips.<!-- Page 247 --></p> + +<p>It was fear now—fear—staggering, appalling him. He was facing +something—<i>something</i>—his brain did not seem to define it—something +that was cold and stern and immutable, that was omnipotent, that +embodied awe—a condemnation unalterable, unchangeable, before which he +shrank back with his soul afraid. Before him seemed to unfold itself the +wagon track, the road to the Patriarch's cottage; and he was there +again, and whispering lips were around him, and men and women and +children were there, and in front of them, leading them, slithered that +twisted, misshapen, formless thing—and now they were upon the lawn, and +about him everywhere, everywhere, everywhere was a sea of white faces +out of which the eyes burned like living coals. What power was this +that, loosed, had stricken them to palsied, moaning things!</p> + +<p>Madison shivered a little—and a sweat bead oozed out and glistened upon +his forehead. Hark—what was that! Clarionlike, clear as the chimes of a +silver bell, rang now that childish voice—rang out, and rang out +again—and the crutch was gone—and the lame boy ran, ran—<i>ran</i>! And +who was that, that stood before him now—that golden-haired woman beside +an empty wheel-chair, whose face was radiant, who cried aloud that she +was <i>cured</i>! And who were these others of later days, this motley crowd +of old and young, that passed before him in procession, that cried out +the same words that golden-haired<!-- Page 248 --> woman by the wheel-chair had +cried—and cried out: "Faith! Faith! Faith!"</p> + +<p>Madison swept the sweat bead from his forehead with a trembling hand. It +was a lie—a lie—a lie! He had taught them to say that—but it was all +bunk—and all were fools! He could laugh at them, jeer at them, mock at +them, deride them—they were his playthings—and faith was his +plaything—and he could laugh at them all!</p> + +<p>And again he raised his head to laugh; and again the laugh was choked in +his throat, still-born—<i>Helena was straight</i>! To his temples went his +twitching hands. Anger raged upon him—and died in fear. Anger, for the +instant maddening him, that he should lose her; rage in ungovernable +fury that the game, his plans, the hoard accumulated, was bursting like +a bubble before his eyes—died in fear. No, no; he had not meant to +laugh or mock—no, no; not that, not that! What was this loosed titanic +power that had done these things—that had brought this change in +Helena; that had brought a change in the Flopper, transforming the +miserable, pitiful, whining thief into a man reaching out for decent +things; that had wrought at least a physical metamorphosis in Pale Face +Harry—that had transfigured those three who, in their ugly, abandoned +natures then, had hung like vultures on his words in the Roost that +night! What was this power that he was trifling with, that brought him +now this cold, dead fear before which he quailed! What was this +<i>something</i> that in his temerity he<!-- Page 249 --> had dared invoke—that rose now +engulfing him, a puny maggot—that snatched him up and flung him +headlong, shackled, before this nebulous, terrifying tribunal, where out +of nothingness, out of a void, the calm, majestic features of the +Patriarch took form and changed, and changed, and kept changing, and +grew implacable, set with the stamp of doom. What was it—in God's name, +what was it brought these sweat beads bursting to his forehead! Was he +going mad—was he mad already!</p> + +<p>And then the cycle again—doubt, anger, fear—until his brain, +exhausted, seemed to refuse its functions; and it was as though, heavy, +oppressing, a dense fog shut down upon his mind and enveloped it; and +now he walked as a man in great haste, hurrying, and now his pace was +slow, uncertain.</p> + +<p>And so he went on, following the little path that bordered the woods on +one hand and the fields on the other; went on until he neared the +village—and then he stopped suddenly, and turned about. Some one had +called his name.</p> + +<p>From the field, a man climbed over the fence and came toward him. The +man's face was tanned and rugged, his form erect, and the sleeves rolled +back above the elbows displayed browned and muscular forearms. Madison +stared at the man apathetically. This was the farm of course where Pale +Face Harry boarded, and this was Pale Face Harry—but—</p> + +<p>"Doc," said Pale Face Harry, and he shuffled<!-- Page 250 --> his feet and looked down, +"Doc, I got something I've been wanting to say to you for a week."</p> + +<p>Madison still gazed at him apathetically—Pale Face Harry for the moment +was as some unwarrantable apparition suddenly appearing before him.</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry raised his eyes, lowered them, kicked at a clod of earth +with the toe of his boot—and raised his eyes again.</p> + +<p>"Say," he blurted out, "I'm through, Doc. I'm—I'm going to quit."</p> + +<p>Into Madison's stumbling brain leaped and took form but one idea—and he +jumped forward, reaching savagely for Pale Face Harry's throat.</p> + +<p>"You'd throw me, would you! You'd throw the game—would you!" he +snarled, as his fingers locked.</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry, twisting, wriggled free—and retreated a step.</p> + +<p>"No; I ain't!" he gasped—and then his sentences came tumbling out upon +each other jerkily, as though he were trying to compress what he had to +say into as few words as possible and as quickly as he could, while he +watched Madison warily. "I ain't throwing nothing. I just want to quit +myself. I keeps my mouth shut—see? I don't want none of the share +what's coming. Say, I've got more'n a hundred times that out of it. Look +at me, Doc! Say, I'm like a horse. That's the Patriarch and living +honest. Say, in all me life I never knew what it was before till we +comes here. If I took the dough what's coming<!-- Page 251 --> I'd go back to the old +hell, and I'd go down and out again. Say, it ain't worth it, there's +nothing in it. I ain't throwing you, Doc—I just blows out of here with +me trap closed. Say, look at me, Doc—don't you get what I mean?"</p> + +<p>And then Madison burst into a peal of wild, strange laughter; and, as +though no man stood before him, started on along the path—and Pale Face +Harry sidled out of his way and stared after him.</p> + +<p>"For—for God's sake, Doc," he called out, stammering, "what's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>But Madison made no answer. He heard Pale Face Harry call out behind +him; in a subconscious, mazed way, he sensed the other following him, +gropingly, hesitantly, for a few yards, then hold back—and finally +stop.</p> + +<p>The path swerved. Madison went on—blindly, mechanically, as though, +once set in motion, he must go on. Some ghastly, unnatural thing was +clogging his brain; not only in a mental way, but clogging it until +there was physical hurt and pain, an awful tightness—something—if he +could only reach it with his fingers and claw it away! There was black +madness here, and a pain insufferable—a damnable impotence, robbing him +of even the power, the faculty to think or reason, or to make himself +understand in any logical degree the meaning or the cause of this thing +that sent his brain swirling sick.</p> + +<p>He halted. His lips were working; the muscles of his face quivered. And +suddenly, snatching his<!-- Page 252 --> hat from his head, he flung himself on the +ground and plunged face and head, feverishly, tigerishly, into the +little brook that ran beside the path. Again and again he buried his +face in the cold, clear, refreshing water—and then, still on hands and +knees, he raised his head to listen. Softly, full of a great peace, full +of a strange sweetness that knew no discord, no strife, the notes of the +chapel bell floated across the fields. Evening had come; the day's work +was done—it was benediction time. It was the call of the faithful—the +Angelus of those who believed.</p> + +<p>It came, the revulsion, to Madison in a choked sob—and he stood up. The +day's work was done—here. Here they would go in quiet thankfulness each +from the farm to his little cottage, each to his simple, wholesome meal, +each to the twilight hours of gentle communion as they talked to one +another from their doorways, each to his bed and his rest, tranquil in +the love of God and of man.</p> + +<p>Madison flung back the dripping hair from his forehead. Strange, the +contrast that, unbidden, came insistently to him now: The liquid notes +of the bell wafted sweetly on the evening breeze; the howling, jangling +turmoil of the city slums, of his familiar haunts where, in mad chaos, +reigned the hawkers' cries, the thunder of the elevated trains, the +noisome traffic of the street, the raucous clang of trolley bells—the +sweet perfume of the, fields, the smell of trees, of earth, of all of +God's pure things untouched, unsoiled; the stench of<!-- Page 253 --> Chatham Square, +the reek of whiskey spilled with the breath of obscene, filthy lips—the +little village that he could see beyond him, the tiny curls of blue +smoke rising like the incense from an altar over the roofs of houses +whose doors had no locks, whose windows were not barred, where plain, +homely folk, unsullied, lived at peace with God and the world; the +closed areaways of the Bowery, the creaking stairs, the dim hallways +leading to dens of vileness and iniquity where, safe by bolts from +interruption, crime bred its offsprings and vice was hatched. What did +it mean!</p> + +<p>And so he stood there for a little space; then presently he started +forward again; and presently he reached the village street, walked down +its length, greeted from every doorway with hearty, unaffected +sincerity, and after a little while he came to the hotel, and to his +room—and there he locked the door.</p> + +<p>Helena was straight—the words were repeating themselves over and over +in his brain. He began to pace up and down the room. The words seemed to +take form and shape in fiery red letters, being scrawled by invisible +hands upon the walls—<i>Helena was straight</i>. Straight with Thornton, +straight with any man—straight with her Maker. He knew that now—he had +read it as a soul-truth in those brave, deep, tear-dimmed eyes. And he +had <i>lost</i> her! It seemed as though he had become suddenly conscious +that he was enduring some agony that was never to know an<!-- Page 254 --> end, that +from now on must be with him always. He had lost her—lost Helena.</p> + +<p>From his pocket he drew out his keys and opened his trunks, and took out +the trays and spread them about. There were very many trays, they nested +one upon the other—and they were exceedingly ingenious +trays—false-bottomed every one. And now he opened these false-bottoms, +every one of them, and stood and looked at them. The surest, safest, +biggest game he had ever played, the game that had known no single +hitch, the game that had brought no whispering breath of suspicion flung +its tribute in his face. Money that he had never tried to count, notes +of all denominations, large and small, glutted the receptacles—jewels +in necklaces, in rings, in pendants, in brooches, in bracelets, +diamonds, rubies, emeralds, winked at him and scintillated and glowed +and were afire.</p> + +<p>And he stood and looked upon them. What was it the Flopper had said when +they had brought the Patriarch back—he did not remember. What was it +that Pale Face Harry had said a little while ago—he did not remember. +These were jewels here and money—wealth—and he had won the greatest +game that was ever played—only he had lost her—lost Helena. And he +stood and looked upon them—and slowly there crept to his face a +white-lipped smile.</p> + +<p>"I'm beat!" he whispered hoarsely. "Beat—by the game—I won."<!-- Page 255 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>—XXI—</h2> + +<h4>FACE VALUE</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>It was evening of the same day—and there came a knock at the outer door +of the cottage porch.</p> + +<p>The Flopper answered it, and came back to the Patriarch's room; where +the Patriarch sat in his armchair; where the lamp, turned low, throwing +the little room into half shadow, burned upon the table; where Helena, +far away from her immediate surroundings, quite silent and still, her +own chair close beside the other's, nestled with her head on the +Patriarch's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Helena looked up as the Flopper returned.</p> + +<p>Upon the Flopper's face was a curious expression—not one that in the +days gone by had been habitual—it seemed to mingle a diffidence, a +kindly solicitude and a sort of anxious responsibility.</p> + +<p>"It's Thornton askin' fer youse," announced the Flopper.</p> + +<p>Helena rose from her chair, and started for the door—but the Flopper +blocked the way. Helena halted and looked at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>The Flopper licked his lips.</p> + +<p>"Say, Helena," he said earnestly, "if I was<!-- Page 256 --> youse I wouldn't go—say, +I'll tell him youse have got de pip an' gone ter bed."</p> + +<p>"Not go?" echoed Helena. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>The Flopper scratched at his chin uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know!" he said. "De Doc let youse down easy ter-day. Say, if +youse had piped his lamps when you drives up in de buzz-wagon dis +afternoon youse wouldn't be lookin' fer any more trouble. Say, I'm +tellin' youse straight, Helena. When I was out dere in de kitchen an' +youse was in yer room wid him me heart was in me mouth all de time. +Youse can take it from me, Helena, he let youse down easy."</p> + +<p>Helena's brown eyes, a little wistfully, a little softly, held upon the +Flopper.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Youse had better cut it out ter-night, Helena," the Flopper went on. +"Y'oughter know de Doc by dis time—de guy dat starts anything wid de +Doc gets his—dat's all! Remember de night he threw Cleggy down de +stairs in de Roost?—an' he was only havin' fun! Say, you go out wid +Thornton again ter-night an' de Doc finds it out—an' something'll +happen. Say, Helena, fer God's sake, don't youse do it—de Doc was bad +enough dis afternoon when he let youse down easy, but he's worse now, +an'—"</p> + +<p>"Worse?" Helena interrupted, smiling a little apathetically. "In what +way is he worse? And how do you know? You haven't seen Doc, have you?"<!-- Page 257 --></p> + +<p>"No," the Flopper answered, circling his lips with his tongue again. +"No; I ain't seen de Doc since—but I seen Pale Face. Say, Helena"—the +Flopper's words came stumbling out now, agitated, perturbed, not +altogether coherent—"wot's de answer I dunno; I dunno wot's de matter +here. Say"—he pointed suddenly to the Patriarch, whose face was turned +toward them as he stroked thoughtfully at his silver beard—"he's got me +fer fair—dere ain't no fake here—dis way ter live is de real t'ing—he +ain't like you an' me—he's <i>more'n</i> dat—look at him now—youse'd t'ink +he could see us, an' was listenin' ter wot we said. I dunno wot's de +end—I dunno wot's de matter wid me. I was scared more'n ever out dere +dis afternoon on de lawn, an' I thought mabbe God 'ud strike me +dead—but 'tain't only dat I'm scared ter buck de game any more, 'tain't +only dat—I don't <i>wanter</i> any more, an' it don't make no difference +about de dough—I wanter live straight, same as him, same as de guys +around here, same—same as Mamie. Say, Helena, say, do youse believe in +love—in—in de <i>real</i> t'ing?"</p> + +<p>Helena's apathy was gone now—a flush dyed her cheeks. She was not +startled at what the Flopper had said—she had seen it coming, +subconsciously, vaguely, mistily, for days now, only she had been +immersed in herself—she was not startled, and yet, in a way, she was. +The end! She too had been thinking about that—and she too did not know. +What <i>was</i> the end?<!-- Page 258 --></p> + +<p>"You were going to say something about Pale Face," she said, prompting +the Flopper. "Something about Pale Face and Doc."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Flopper, and again the tip of his tongue sought his lips +nervously. "Dat's why I don't want youse ter go out wid Thornton +ter-night. Pale Face has got it de same as me, an' he told de Doc dis +afternoon, out in de path dere, after de Doc left de cottage here. Dere +was a showdown—see? De Doc 'ud kill youse an' Thornton ter-night if he +caught youse ter-gether. He's like a wild man. When Pale Face tells him +he was goin' ter quit, de Doc makes a grab fer him by de t'roat like a +tiger, only Pale Face gets away, an' den de Doc goes off widout a word, +laughin' like he'd escaped out of a dippy-house. An' Pale Face was +shakin' like he had a fit when he gets here. Say, Helena, don't youse go +ter-night."</p> + +<p>Helena made no answer for a moment. Thoughts, a world of them, confused +her, crowded upon her, as they had ever since Madison had left her room +a few hours ago—and the future was as some dread, bewildering maze +through which she had tried to stumble and grope her way—and had lost +herself ever deeper. How full of utter, miserable, bitter irony it was +that this thing, unscrupulous and shameful, that they had created in +their guilt should have brought the beauty and the glory and the +yearning of a new life to her—and yet should chain her remorselessly<!-- Page 259 --> +to the old! True, she had broken with Madison, irrevocably, forever, she +supposed, it could not be other than that, for the ugly bond between +them was severed—but the game still went on! In repentance, on her +bended knees, sobbing as a tired and worn-out child, she could ask for +forgiveness; but the double life, the duplicity, by reason of the very +nature in which they had fashioned this iniquitous monster, still went +on, and like some hideous octopus reached out its waving, feeling +tentacles to encircle her—the Patriarch there; the world-wide +publicity, those poor creatures upon whose misery and whose suffering, +upon whose frantic, frenzied snatching out at hope they had preyed and +fed and gorged themselves; the life itself that she had taken up, in its +minutiæ, in its care of this great-souled, great-hearted man so dear to +her now, the life itself because it was what it was, changed though she +herself might be, though her soul cried out against it in its new-found +purity—all this still held her fast! The end—she could not see the +end. What would Madison do—and there was Thornton. Thornton! She caught +her breath a little. Yes; she had promised Thornton she would see him +to-night—she knew well enough why he wanted to see her—last night had +told her that—he loved her. Her face softened. Last night—it seemed a +thousand years ago, and it seemed but as an instant passed—last +night—she had learned what love was, and—<!-- Page 260 --></p> + +<p>The Flopper stirred uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Wot'll I tell him?" asked the Flopper. "He's waitin' out dere by de +porch."</p> + +<p>"Why—why nothing," said Helena, and she smiled a little tremulously at +the Flopper. "Nothing. I'll—I'll go and see him."</p> + +<p>"Say, Helena," protested the Flopper, "don't youse—"</p> + +<p>But Helena stepped by him now.</p> + +<p>"Don't leave the Patriarch," she cautioned, turning on the threshold. +"I—I won't be late."</p> + +<p>She passed down the little hall, through the still, quiet room beyond, +empty now, through the porch, and out into the night—and then from out +the shadows by the row of maples, Thornton came hurriedly toward her, +holding out his hands.</p> + +<p>"It's good of you to come, Miss Vail," he said, in his grave, quiet way. +"You must be nearly dead with weariness after last night, and I am +afraid I am not very thoughtful—only I—" he broke off suddenly. "Shall +we sit here on the bench for a little while, or would you rather +walk—I—I have something to say to you."</p> + +<p>It was very dark—the storm of the night before still lingered in a +wrack of flying clouds, scurrying one after the other, veiling the +stars—and the moon was hidden—and hidden too was the sudden whiteness +of Helena's face. She knew what he had to say, knew it before she had +come to him—and yet she was there—and she had come resolutely +enough—only now she was afraid.<!-- Page 261 --></p> + +<p>"I would rather walk a little, I think," she said. "Here where—where I +can be within call. My absence last night seems to have made the +Patriarch very uneasy, you know, and—and—let us just walk up and down +here beneath the maples in front of the cottage."</p> + +<p>How heavy upon the air lay the fragrance of the flowers; how still the +night was, save for the constant muffled boom of the breaking surf!—for +a moment an almost ungovernable impulse swept upon her to make some +excuse, anything, no matter how wild, a sudden faintness, anything, and +run from him back into the cottage. And then she tried to think, think +in a desperate sort of way of some subject of conversation that she +might introduce that would stave off, postpone, defer the words that she +knew were even now on his lips—nothing—she could think of +nothing—only that she might have let the Flopper have his way, have let +him tell Thornton that she had gone to bed with—the pip. The <i>pip</i>! She +could have screamed out hysterically as the word flashed all unbidden +upon her—it stood for a very great deal that word—her world of the +years of yesterday. Could she never get away from that world; was it too +late—already! Could she, even with all the earnestness, all the +yearning that filled her soul, ever live it down, ever be what Naida +Thornton had called her that night—a good woman! Could she—</p> + +<p>Thornton was speaking now—how strange that she would have done +anything, given anything<!-- Page 262 --> to prevent his speaking—and done anything, +given anything to make him speak! How strange and perplexed and dismayed +her brain was! Love! Yes; she wanted love! God knew she wanted love such +as his was—for he had shown her what love, free from abasing passion, +in its purest sense, was. Like a glimpse of glory, hallowed, full of +wondrous amazement, it came to her—and then her head was lowered, and +the whiteness was upon her face again.</p> + +<p>He had halted suddenly and detained her with his hand upon her arm—with +that touch, so full of reverence, of fine deference, that had thrilled +her before—that thrilled her now, awakening into fuller life these new +emotions whose birth was in gladder, sweeter, purer aspirations.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vail," he said, in a low voice, "there was a letter—a letter that +Naida left—did you know of it?"</p> + +<p>They were close together, and it was very dark—but was it dark enough +to hide the crimson that she felt sweeping in a flood to her face! What +was in that letter? Had Mrs. Thornton written as she had talked, or only +about the Patriarch and the work in Needley? She had forgotten for the +moment about the letter—if there were more in it than that, if it were +about Thornton and herself and what Mrs. Thornton had hoped for between +them, and she admitted knowledge of it, what would he think, what +<i>could</i> he think of her! But to deny it—no, not now. Once, and this +came to her in a little thrill of<!-- Page 263 --> gladness, she would not have +hesitated; but now it—it was—it was not that world of yesterday.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said faintly; "she told me that she had left a letter for +you."</p> + +<p>"It was about the work here," said Thornton gently. "Her whole soul +seemed wrapt up in that—and she asked me as her last wish to do what +she would have done if she had lived; and she spoke of you very +beautifully." Thornton paused for a moment—then he laid his hands on +Helena's shoulders—and she felt them tremble a little. "Miss +Vail—Helena," he said, and his voice was full of passionate earnestness +now, "I cannot say these things well—only simply. I came back here to +take an interest in the work, for I too have it at heart—but I have +more than that now—there is <i>you</i>—your dear self. I love you, +Helena—you have come into my life until you are everything and all to +me. Helena, look up at me—will you marry me, dear? Tell me what I long +to hear. Helena, Helena—I love you!"</p> + +<p>But Helena did not answer—only very slowly she raised her head. And his +hands on her shoulders tightened, and he was drawing her gently toward +him. Then he bent his head until it was close to hers, and his breath +was upon her cheek as it had been that other night—and the longing to +know that it was hers, a caress, pure in its motive, hers, snatched out +of all that had gone before that sought to rob her of the right to ever<!-- Page 264 --> +know it, fascinated her, held her spellbound, possessed her. Closer his +lips came to hers, closer, until they touched her—and then, with a cry, +she sprang back, and her hands were fiercely pressed against her cheeks, +her throbbing temples. Was she mad! Mad! Was it for this that she had +forced herself to give him the opportunity to speak to-night, when her +motive was so different, when it had seemed the only <i>right</i> thing left +for her to do!</p> + +<p>And now, still holding her temples, she raised her eyes to Thornton—he +had stepped back like a man stricken, his hands dropped to his sides.</p> + +<p>"I—we are mad!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Helena!" he said in a numbed way; and again; "Helena!" Then, with an +effort to control his voice: "You—you do not care—you do not love me?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said—and thereafter for a long time a silence held between +them.</p> + +<p>Then Thornton spoke.</p> + +<p>"Some day perhaps, Helena," he said, "you could learn to love me—for I +would teach you. Perhaps now you feel that your whole duty lies here in +this work to which you have so unselfishly given your life; but I would +not hinder that, only try to help as best I could. Perhaps I have been +abrupt, have spoken too soon—it is only a few weeks since I saw you +first, but it seems as though in those few weeks I had come to know you +as if I had known you all my life and—"<!-- Page 265 --></p> + +<p>But now she interrupted him, shaking her head in a sad little fashion.</p> + +<p>"You do not know me," she said. "Sometimes I think I do not know myself. +Think! You do not know where I came from to join the Patriarch here; you +have no single shred of knowledge about me; you do not know a single +particular of my life before you knew me."</p> + +<p>"I do not need to know," he answered gravely. "You are as genuine as +pure gold is genuine—it is in your voice, your smile, your eyes. It is +a crude simile perhaps, but one never asks where the pure gold was +dug—it stands for itself, for what it is, because it is what it +is—pure gold—at its face value."</p> + +<p>The words seemed to stab at Helena, condemning, accusing; and yet, too, +in a strange, vague way, they seemed to bring her a hope, a promise for +the days to come—at face value! If she could live hereafter—at face +value!</p> + +<p>"Listen," she said, and her voice was very low. "I do not know how to +say what I must say to you. Last night I knew that—that you loved me. I +had not thought of you like that, in that way, until then, or—or I +should have tried never to have let this hurt come to you. But last +night I knew, and since then I have known that sooner or later you +would—would tell me of it." She stopped for an instant—her eyes full +of tears now. "And so," she went on presently, "I have let you speak +to-night because it was better, it was even necessary that I should do +so<!-- Page 266 --> at once—because this could not go on—because you must go away +and—"</p> + +<p>"Necessary?" he repeated. "I—I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"No," she said helplessly; "you do not understand—and I—I cannot +explain. Oh, I do not know what to say to you, only that you must take +what I say, as you have taken me—at face value."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," he said again. "Helena, I do not understand. Are +you in trouble—tell me?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said.</p> + +<p>"But I cannot go away like this!" he cried out suddenly. "I cannot go +and leave you, Helena. You have come into my life and filled it; and I +cannot let you pass out of it—like this—without an effort to hold what +has come to mean everything to me now. You may not love me now, but some +day—"</p> + +<p>She shook her head, interrupting him once more.</p> + +<p>"There can never be a 'some day,'" she said. "Oh, I do not want to hurt +you—you, to whom I owe more than you will ever know—but—but there can +never be anything between us, and—and we are only making it harder for +ourselves now—aren't we?"</p> + +<p>And then he leaned abruptly toward her.</p> + +<p>"Is there—some one else?" he asked in a strained voice.</p> + +<p>And to Helena the question came as though<!-- Page 267 --> it had been an inspiration +given him—for after that he would ask no more, seek no more to +understand, for he was too big and strong and fine for that; and even if +it was hopeless now this love that she had known for Madison, even if it +could never be again, still that love was hers, and she could answer +truthfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said beneath her breath.</p> + +<p>For a moment Thornton neither moved nor spoke. Then he held out his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vail," he said simply, "will you tell this 'some one else' that +another man beside himself is the better for having known you. +Good-night. And may God bring you happiness through all your life."</p> + +<p>But she did not speak—they were standing by the rustic bench and she +sank down upon it, and, with her head hidden in one arm outflung across +the back of the seat, was sobbing softly.</p> + +<p>And he stood and watched her for a little space, his face grave and +white; then taking the hand that lay listlessly in her lap, he raised it +to his lips—and turned away.</p> + +<p>And so he left her—and so, because of this, he knocked upon another +door that night, and all unwittingly gave to that "some one else" +himself the message that he had asked Helena to deliver.</p> + +<p>Madison, pacing his room like a caged beast, his teeth working upon the +cigar that he had never thought to light, paid no attention to the +summons until it had been repeated twice; then, with a glance around the +room, his eyes lingering for a<!-- Page 268 --> critical instant upon the trunks, closed +now, the trays restored to their hiding places, he stepped to the door, +unlocked it, and flung it open. And at sight of Thornton, mechanically, +as second nature to him, outwardly, like a mask, there came a smile upon +his working lips, a suave, unconcerned composure to his face; while +inwardly, in his dazed, fogged brain where chaos raged, surged an +impulse to fling himself upon the other, wreck a mad vengeance upon the +man—and then swift upon the heels of this an impulse to refrain, for if +Helena was straight why should he harm Thornton—and then the shuttle +again—why should he not—hadn't Helena said that she had learned what +love was last night—and last night she had been with Thornton. How his +brain whirled! What had brought Thornton here, anyhow? If he stayed very +long perhaps he would batter Thornton to jelly after all! Quick, almost +instantaneous in their sequence came this wild jumble singing dizzily +its crazy refrain through his mind—and then to his amazement he heard +some one speaking pleasantly—and to his amazement it was himself.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Thornton. Come in—and take a chair."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Thornton answered; and, entering the room, closed the door +behind him. "No; I won't sit down—I shall only remain a moment."</p> + +<p>The lamp was on the washstand, and, intuitively again, Madison shifted +his position to bring his face into shadow—and leaned against<!-- Page 269 --> the foot +of the bed. He stared at Thornton, nodding—Thornton's face was white +and exceedingly haggard—rather curious for Thornton to look that way!</p> + +<p>"Madison," said Thornton abruptly, "I believe you to be a gentleman in +the best sense of the word, and because of that, and because of the +unusual circumstances that first brought us together and the mutual +interests that have since been ours, I have come to you to-night to tell +you, first, that I am going away from Needley and that I shall not +return—and then to ask a service and repose a trust in you. You have +said several times that you intended to remain here and take a personal +and active part in the work?"</p> + +<p>Madison removed the chewed cigar end from one corner of his mouth—and +placed it in the other.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Madison.</p> + +<p>"Then this is what I want to say," said Thornton seriously. "For my own +sake, because it was my wife's wish, and for other reasons as well, my +interest here, though I am going away, will be just as great as it has +ever been; and so I want you to keep me thoroughly posted, and when the +time comes that I can be of further material assistance to let me know. +I impose only one condition—you are to say nothing to Miss Vail about +it—you can make anything that I may do appear to come from yourself."</p> + +<p>"Say nothing to Miss Vail!" repeated Madison vaguely—then a sort of +ironic jest seemed to<!-- Page 270 --> take possession of him: "But Miss Vail keeps all +the funds."</p> + +<p>"That is why I am asking you to represent me," said Thornton quietly. "I +am afraid that she might have a natural diffidence about accepting +anything more from me—I asked Miss Vail to marry me to-night, and she +refused."</p> + +<p>The cigar kind of slid down unnoticed from the corner of Madison's +mouth—and he leaned forward, hanging with a hand behind him to the +bedpost—and stared at Thornton.</p> + +<p>"You—<i>what</i>!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know," Thornton answered—and moved abruptly toward the door. +"Love makes one's temerity very great—doesn't it? I asked her to marry +me—because I loved her." He came back from the door and held out his +hand, "I've told you what I would tell no other man, Madison. You +understand now why—and you'll do this for me?"</p> + +<p>What answer Madison made he never knew himself—he only knew that he was +staring at the door after Thornton had gone out, and that he wanted to +laugh crazily. Marry Helena! Thornton had asked Helena to marry him +because he loved her. God, there was humor here! His brain itself seemed +to cackle at it—<i>marry</i> Helena!</p> + +<p>And then suddenly there seemed no humor at all—only black, infamous +shame and condemnation—and he straightened up from where he<!-- Page 271 --> leaned +against the bedpost, his face set and strained.</p> + +<p>"Thornton had asked Helena to marry him because he <i>loved</i> her"—the +words came slowly, haltingly, aloud—and then he covered his face with +his hands. But he, he who loved her too—what had <i>he</i> done!<!-- Page 272 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>—XXII—</h2> + +<h4>THE SHRINE</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>For a little time Madison stood there in his room, motionless, staring +unseeingly before him—and then, as one awakening from a dream that had +brought dismay and a torment too realistic to be thrown from him on the +instant, his brain still a little blunted, he took up his hat +mechanically, went out from the room, descended by the back stairs to +the rear door of the hotel, and took the road to the Patriarch's +cottage.</p> + +<p>And as he walked in the freshness of the night, the restless turmoil of +his soul that since early afternoon had brought him near to the verge of +madness itself, that had robbed him of sane virility, that a moment +since in his room had suddenly begun to lift from him even as the leaden +clouds in the vault above him now were scattering, breaking, and through +the rifts a moon-glint and the starlight came, passed from him +utterly—and a strange calm, a strange joy, a strange sadness was upon +him—and his brain for the first time in many hours was rational, +keen—and he was master of himself again—and yet master of himself no +more!<!-- Page 273 --></p> + +<p>He smiled a little at the seeming paradox—smiled a little wistfully. He +was beaten—by the game—he had won. How strange it was that sense of +more than resignation now—a sense that seemed like one of +thankfulness—a sense that bade him fling wide his arms as though +suddenly they had been loosed from bondage and he was free, free as the +God-given air around him.</p> + +<p>He could understand Helena, and the Flopper, and Pale Face Harry now. +With them it had come slowly, in a gradual concatenation, a progression, +as it were, that had worked upon them, molding them, changing them day +by day—and he had been too blind to see, or, seeing, had measured the +changes only by a standard as false as all his life had been false. With +him it had come in a crash, unheralded, that had left him a naked, +quivering, stricken thing to know madness, terror and despair, to taste +of emotions that had sickened the soul itself.</p> + +<p>On Madison walked—along the road, across the little bridge, into the +wagon track where, under the arched branches, it was utter dark. There +was no one upon the road—he passed no one—saw no one—he was alone.</p> + +<p>He had lost Helena—but he understood her now—understood the depth of +remorse that she was living through, the terror and the dread as she +sought escape, the fear of him—yes, it would be fear now where once it +had been love! He had lost Helena—that was the price he had paid—but +he understood her now, and he was<!-- Page 274 --> going to her to help her if he could, +going to tell her that he, too, was changed—as she was changed.</p> + +<p>His hands clenched suddenly. God, the misery, the hopelessness, the +wreck and ruin that lay at his door! And amends—what amends could he +make—it was too late for that! How clearly he saw now—when it was too +late! Her life was a broken thing, robbed, stripped and despoiled for +all the years to come. Their love had not been love—she had given it +its name—"passion, vice, lust, sin, degradation and misery and shame." +And then love had come to her, into her life, love as God had meant love +to be, and she had learned what love was she had said—only that she +might never know its fulness, only that it might bring her added +bitterness and added sorrow! Thornton had asked her to marry him that +night—and she had refused him—because the past, it must have been as a +shuddering, hideous phantom that the past had risen before her, had left +her no other thing to do but turn away. It seemed he could see her—see +her bury her face in her hands and—</p> + +<p>He stopped short in his walk. Was he changed so much as this! Did he +care so much that it was her happiness—even with another—that counted +most! Yes; it was true—he was changed indeed. And the change had +brought him too, it seemed, to learn what love was—too late.</p> + +<p>He went forward again—a little more slowly;<!-- Page 275 --> now; a sadness upon him, +but, through the sadness, an uplift from that new sense of freedom that +was as a balm, soothing him in the most curious way. His had been a rude +awakening—mind and body and soul had been torn asunder; but he knew +now, as he recalled the hours just past when he had looked on fear, when +the gamut of human passion had raged over him, when he had stood +staggered and appalled before, yes, before his God, that he had come +forth a new man. And how strange had been the ending, how strange and +simple, and yet how significant, typifying the broad, clean outlook on +life, bringing coherency to his tottering mind, had been those words of +Thornton's—"because he loved her."</p> + +<p>He had reached the end of the wagon track now, and he walked across the +lawn, his steps noiseless on the velvet sward, and passed between the +maples; and the moon gleam—for the flying clouds, rear-guard of the +routed storm, were flung wide apart, dispersed—fell upon a coiled and +huddled little figure all in white, that was quite still and motionless +upon the rustic seat beside the porch.</p> + +<p>She did not see him, did not hear him, until he stood before her and +called her name.</p> + +<p>"Helena!" he said unsteadily. "Helena!"</p> + +<p>She raised her head and looked at him; and then she rose from the bench, +and, still holding to it by one hand, drew back a little. There was no +outcry, no startled action. Her dark eyes played questioningly upon +him—and he could<!-- Page 276 --> see that they were wet with tears, and that the face +from out of which they looked was very white.</p> + +<p>"Why have you come back here to-night?" she asked in a low tone; and +then, suddenly, a fear, a terror in her voice, as the Flopper's warning +flashed upon her: "Thornton—you have seen Thornton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, surprised a little that she should know; "I saw Thornton +a few minutes ago."</p> + +<p>She came toward him now and clutched his arm.</p> + +<p>"What have you done?" she cried tensely. "Answer me! You—you met him on +your way here?"</p> + +<p>It was a moment before Madison replied. He had schooled himself of +course for more than this, yet the words hurt—that was why she had +asked for Thornton—she was afraid that he had harmed the man.</p> + +<p>"No," he said; "I did not meet him. I think you must have been longer +here on that bench than you imagined—haven't you? He came to my room."</p> + +<p>"Your room! What for? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>Madison smiled with grave whimsicality.</p> + +<p>"To call me a gentleman and repose a trust."</p> + +<p>She stepped back again, uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you are talking about," she said in a strained way. +"And you are talking very strangely."<!-- Page 277 --></p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "Everything is strange to-night. It is like a new world, +and—and I have not found my way—yet."</p> + +<p>She drew back still further.</p> + +<p>"Are you mad?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered. "Not now—that Is past."</p> + +<p>She looked at him for a little time; and, her hands joined before her, +her fingers locked and interlocked nervously.</p> + +<p>"And—and Thornton?" she asked, at last.</p> + +<p>"It was a trust," said Madison slowly; "but it was betrayed before it +was given. He did not know—the game. He did not know what was +between—you and me."</p> + +<p>"No," she said—and the word came almost inaudibly.</p> + +<p>"And so," he said, "I will tell you, for it cannot matter now in any +case. He told me that he had asked you to marry him to-night—and that +you had refused."</p> + +<p>Madison paused, and swept his hand across his forehead—his voice +somehow had suddenly grown hoarse, beyond control.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said—and reached again for the back of the bench, supporting +herself against it.</p> + +<p>"He is going away," Madison continued; "and he is to send more money +here for the 'cause'—when I ask for it—only you are not to know, +because you might be diffident about taking it after refusing him."</p> + +<p>She stared at him numbly—there was no sarcasm<!-- Page 278 --> in his words; in his +tones only a sort of dreary monotony. She shivered a little—how cold it +seemed! She did not quite grasp his words—and yet she shrank from them. +And then her very soul seemed to cry out against them, to pit itself +against their meaning, as their meaning surged upon her. And +unconsciously she drew herself up, and the whiteness of her face fled +before a rush of color.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the shame of it!" she burst out. "The bitter shame of it! You shall +not touch the money—do you hear! You shall not touch it! I—I thought +that you had understood this afternoon. I am glad then that you have +come to-night—if I must say more to make you understand. This is the +end! I do not care what happens—the little I can do now to atone for +what I have done, I am going to do. The game is at an end—you shall not +touch another cent—and everything that we have taken goes back to those +whom we have worse than robbed it from! You hear—you understand! I will +cry it out in the town street if there is no other way—but it shall +stop—it shall stop to-night"—she was panting, breathless, the little +figure erect, outraged, quivering—and then suddenly the shoulders +seemed to droop, the lips to tremble, and she was on her knees upon the +grass beside the bench, and sobbing as a child.</p> + +<p>"Helena!" Madison said hoarsely. "Helena! Listen! That is what I came +for to-night—to find a way out for you, for us all, if I can."<!-- Page 279 --></p> + +<p>The passionate outburst passed—and she was on her feet again, facing +him.</p> + +<p>"You are clever—clever!" she cried fiercely. "But you shall not play +with me—you shall not trick me—I meant every word I said!"</p> + +<p>But now Madison made no answer. The moonlight bathed them both in its +clear, white radiance; and touched the sward, shading it to softest +green; and the trees limned out like fairy things against the night; and +the calm light flooded the little cottage with its hidden walls where +the ivy and the creepers grew, and lingered over the trellises to drink +the fragrance of the flowers that peeped out from their leafy beds. And +upon Madison's face crept slowly the anguish that was in his soul—until +it was mirrored there—until unconsciously it answered her where words +would have been useless things. Like some white-robed, sorrowing angel, +she seemed, as she stood there before him—the brown eyes full of +shadow, troubled; the sweet face tear-splashed; the little figure in its +simple muslin frock, pitiful in its brave defiance. And pure—just God, +how pure she looked!—the brow stainless white under the mass of dark, +coiled hair; the perfect throat of ivory. And—and the misery that was +in every feature of her face, in every line of her poise—and he had +brought her that—<i>he</i> had brought her to that—and now when he loved +her as he might have loved her once and known her love in return, when +his heart cried out for her, when she was all in life he cared for, she +was<!-- Page 280 --> gone from him, out of his life, and between them was a barrier he +could never pass—a barrier of his own raising.</p> + +<p>And so he made no answer, for indeed he had not heard her; but she was +coming toward him now, her hands outstretched in a wondering way, +wistfully, pleadingly, as though to hold back a refutation that would +change the dawning light upon her face to dismay and grief again.</p> + +<p>"It—it is true," she faltered. "It has come to you too—this change, +this new life that has come to me. It is true—I can see it in your +face."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is true," he answered, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" she whispered—and hid her face in her hands—and presently +he heard her sob again.</p> + +<p>A tiny cloud edged the moon, and the light faded, and it grew dark, and +the darkness hid her; then softly, timidly almost it seemed, the +radiance came creeping through the branches overhead again—and then he +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Helena," he said, steadying his voice with an effort, "you spoke of +atonement a little while ago; but there is no atonement that I can make +to you—nothing that I can do to change what I would give my soul to +change. I know what it meant to you to send Thornton away to-night, for +I love you now as you love him—I know why you did it, and—"</p> + +<p>She was staring at him a little wildly—her hands pressed against her +cheeks.<!-- Page 281 --></p> + +<p>"Love—Thornton," she repeated in a sort of wondering way, a long pause +between the words.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said gently; "I know. Have you forgotten what you told me this +afternoon?—that you had learned—last night—what love was."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I do not love Thornton," she said in a monotone. "And yet it is true +that through him I learned what love was, what it <i>could</i> be—don't you +understand?"</p> + +<p>Understand! No; it seemed that he could never understand! She did not +love Thornton! And then, as some fiery cordial, the words seemed to whip +through his veins, quickening the beat of his heart into wild, +tumultuous throbbing. Yes, yes, he could understand—it was +true—true—she did not love Thornton.</p> + +<p>"Helena!" he cried—and stretched out his arms to her. "I thought, oh, +God, I thought that I had lost you—Helena!"</p> + +<p>But she did not move.</p> + +<p>"What does it matter to you whether I love Thornton or not?" she said +dully. "Does it change anything where you and I are concerned—does it +change what I told you this afternoon—that I would not go back to +<i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"To that! Ah, no!"—his voice rang dominant, vibrant, triumphant now. +"Helena, don't you understand? We are to begin life again—in<!-- Page 282 --> a new +way, the true way, the only way. Don't you see—I love you!"</p> + +<p>Still she did not move—but there was a great whiteness in her face, and +in the whiteness a great light.</p> + +<p>"You mean?"—her lips scarcely seemed to form the words.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he cried. "Yes; to make a home for you, to marry you if only you +love me still, to live in God's own sight and hold you as a sacred +gift—Helena! Helena!"—his arms went out to her again, and the yearning +in his soul was in his voice—to crush her to him, to hold her in his +arms, and hold her there where none should take her from him, to shield +and guard her through the years to come, to live with her a life that +seemed to break now in a vista of gladness, of glory, as the day-dawn +breaks with its golden rays of God-given promise—the new life, perfect +and pure and innocent—because he loved her. "Helena! Speak to me. Tell +me that it is not too late—tell me that you love me too."</p> + +<p>And then her eyes were raised to his, and they were wet—but there was +love-light and a wondrous happiness shining through the tears.</p> + +<p>"Helena!" he murmured brokenly—and swept her into his arms—and kissed +the eyelids, lowered now, the hair, the white brow, the lips—kissed +her, and held her there, her clinging arms about his neck, her face half +hidden on his shoulder.<!-- Page 283 --></p> + +<p>And so for a space they stood there—and there were no words to say, +only the song in their hearts in deathless melody—but after a little +time he held her from him, and lifted up her face that he might look his +fill upon it.</p> + +<p>"Helena," he said, "I cannot understand it all yet—it is as though it +were born out of the sin and the darkness and the blackness of what is +gone—as though here at this Shrine that we created in mockery and crime +it was meant that you and I should save each other for each other. And +yet this Shrine as we have made it is a thing of guilt, and it has +brought us all, you and I, and Harry, and the Flopper to a new life."</p> + +<p>She lay still for a moment in his arms—then her hand crept up and +touched his forehead and smoothed back his hair.</p> + +<p>"I do not quite know how to say it," she said a little timidly. "When +you went away this afternoon, the Patriarch took me back into his room, +and—and I knelt at his knees—and after a little while my mind seemed +very calm and quiet—do you know what I mean? And I tried to think +things out—and understand. And it seemed to come to me that there was a +shrine everywhere if we would only look for it—that God has put a +shrine in every heart, only we are so blind—that every one can make +their own surroundings beautiful and good and true, no matter where they +are, or how poor, or how rich—and if they live like that they must be +good and true themselves."<!-- Page 284 --></p> + +<p>"Yes," he said slowly; then, after a moment: "And faith too is very much +like that."</p> + +<p>"Only some need a sign," she said.</p> + +<p>There was silence again, while her hand crept over his face and back to +his forehead to smooth his hair once more—and then very gently she +slipped out of his arms.</p> + +<p>"What are we to do about—about everything here?" she asked soberly. "We +are forgetting that in our own happiness. How are we going to return the +money that we have taken?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know yet," he answered. "I haven't thought much about it—but +we'll manage somehow."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I've thought a great deal about it since yesterday—and I'm not so sure +it is to be 'managed somehow'—and the more I've thought the more +tangled and complicated it has become."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll untangle it to-morrow," said Madison, with a smile, "and—"</p> + +<p>"No"—she touched his sleeve. "To-night. Let us do it now—to-night. I +should be so happy then."</p> + +<p>He smiled at her again, and drew her to him.</p> + +<p>"But we ought to have Pale Face and the Flopper too, don't you think +so?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Of course," she said; "and so we will. The Flopper is here, and we can +send him for Harry. It's early yet—not ten o'clock."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Madison; "if you wish it. We'll go in then and get the +Flopper."<!-- Page 285 --></p> + +<p>And so they walked to the cottage door, and into the porch—but in the +porch Madison held her for a moment, and lifted up her face again and +looked into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"My—wife," he whispered—and took her in his arms.<!-- Page 286 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>—XXIII—</h2> + +<h4>THE WAY OUT</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>Strange scene indeed! Strange antithesis to that other night when these +four were gathered in that crime-reeked, sordid room at the Roost—where +Pale Face Harry, gaunt, emaciated, coughed, and, trembling, plunged a +morphine needle in his arm; where the Flopper, a wretched tatterdemalion +from the gutter, licked greedy lips and gloated in his rascality; where +Helena, flushed-faced, inhaled her interminable cigarettes and dangled +her legs from the table edge; where Madison, suave, flippant, so certain +of his own infallibility, glorying in his crooked masterpiece, laid the +tribute to genius at his own feet!</p> + +<p>Strange scene! Strange antithesis indeed! It was quiet here—very +still—only the distant, muffled boom of the pounding surf. And the +shrine-room, for the first time since its creation, was locked against +the night. It lay now in shadow from the single lamp upon the table—and +the light, where it fell in a shortened circle, for the lamp itself had +a little green paper shade, was soft, subdued and mellow.</p> + +<p>Where he had been wont to sit in the days gone by, the Patriarch sat now +in his armchair<!-- Page 287 --> by the empty fireplace—in the shadow—his head turned +in his strange, listening, attentive way toward the table—toward the +four who were grouped around it. There had been no one to stay with him +in his own room, and so Helena had brought him there—to play his silent +part.</p> + +<p>At the table, Pale Face Harry, bronzed and rugged, clear-eyed, a robust +figure from his clean living, his months of the out-of-doors, traced the +grain of the wood on the table mechanically with his finger nail, his +face sober, perplexed; while the Flopper, clear-eyed too, his face +almost a handsome one in its bright alertness, now that it had rounded +out and the hard, premature lines were gone, mirrored Pale Face Harry's +perturbed expression, his eyes fixed anxiously on Madison opposite him; +and Helena, sitting beside Madison, was very quiet, her forehead +wrinkled and pursed up into little furrows, the brown eyes with a hint +of dismay and consternation lurking in their depths, one hand stretched +out to lay quite unconsciously on Madison's sleeve—and from the sleeve +to steal occasionally into Madison's hand.</p> + +<p>Madison, his lips tight, pushed back his chair suddenly—they had been +sitting there an hour.</p> + +<p>"You were right, Helena," he said, with a nervous laugh. "The more you +try to figure it out the worse it gets."</p> + +<p>"Aw, say, Doc," pleaded the Flopper desperately, "don't youse give it +up—youse have got de head—youse ain't never left us in a hole yet."<!-- Page 288 --></p> + +<p>Madison looked at him, and smiled mirthlessly.</p> + +<p>"My head!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I got you into this, all of you—but +it will take more than my head to get you out. If I could stand for it +myself, I'd do it—but I can't without dragging you in too—we're too +intimately mixed up. If I said it was a deal of mine—they'd ask where +Helena came from—they'd ask where you came from, Flopper. We're +beaten—beaten every way we turn. The game has got us—we haven't a +move. We played it to the limit, the slickest swindle that was ever +worked, and it worked till there's more money than I've tried to count. +And then it changed us from thieves, from—from anything you like—and +now that we want to quit, now that we want a chance to make good, it's +got us in its grip and we can't get away." He flirted a bead of moisture +from his forehead. "My God, I don't know what to do!" he muttered +hoarsely. "It was easy enough to <i>talk</i> about stopping this thing, about +returning the money—but I can't see the way out."</p> + +<p>No one answered him—all were silent—as silent as the mute and +venerable figure that sat, listening attentively it seemed, in the +armchair by the fireplace.</p> + +<p>Madison turned abruptly after a moment to Pale Face Harry.</p> + +<p>"You, Harry," he said, laying a hand on the other's shoulder, "you're +the only one of the four that can walk out of it—you don't show in the +center of the stage—you go. You said<!-- Page 289 --> the old folks would cry over +you—twenty years is a long time to stay away from the old folks—I—I +never knew mine. You go on back to the little farm out there in the West +where you said you'd like to go, and—and give the old people a hand for +the years they've got left."</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry shook his head.</p> + +<p>"God knows I'd like to," he said, choking a little; "that's what I +counted on. God knows I'd like to go out there and lead a decent +life—but I don't go that way—I don't crawl out and leave you—what's +coming to you is coming to me."</p> + +<p>"That won't help us any, Harry," said Madison softly, and his hand +tightened in an eloquent pressure on Pale Face Harry's shoulder. "You +go—and God bless you!"</p> + +<p>Again Pale Face Harry shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "I stick. If the game's got you, it's got me too—to the +limit. There's no use talking about that."</p> + +<p>The Flopper licked his lips miserably.</p> + +<p>"Swipe me!" he mumbled. "Hell wasn't never like dis! Me an' Mamie we've +got it fixed, an' her old man says he'll take me inter de store. Say, +Doc, say—ain't dere a chanst ter live straight now we wants ter?"</p> + +<p>But Madison did not hear the Flopper save in a vague, inconsequential +way—he was looking at Helena. She had drooped forward a little over the +table, her chin in her hands, her lips quivering—and a white misery in +her face seemed to bring<!-- Page 290 --> a chill, a numbness to his heart. His Hands +clenched, and he began to pace up and down the room.</p> + +<p>How buoyantly he had tackled the problem—buoyant in his own +emancipation, buoyant in his love, in the future full of dreams, full of +inspiration, full of the new life that Helena and he would live +together! How confidently he had settled himself to undo in a moment the +work of months, to outline a mere matter of detail, with never a thought +that he was face to face with a problem that he could never solve—that +brought him to the realization that the game, not he, was the master +still, iron-handed, implacable—that though the mental chains were +loosed it was but as if, in ironic justice, in grim punishment, only +that he might look, clear-visioned, upon the ignominy of the physical +shackles he himself had forged and fashioned so readily, whose breaking +now was beyond his strength.</p> + +<p>He had done his work well! In the first few moments, an hour ago, when +he had begun to consider the problem, as seeming difficulties arose, he +had turned coolly from one alternative to another. And then slowly a +sickening sense of the truth had begun to dawn upon him—and like a man +lost in a great forest, peril around him, he had plunged then +desperately in this direction and in that, as a glimmering point of +light here or there had seemed to promise an avenue of escape—only to +find it vanish at almost the first step, the way closed as by some +invisible, remorseless<!-- Page 291 --> power. No, not invisible—it seemed to take the +form of the Patriarch—for at every turn the majestic figure stood and +would not let him pass.</p> + +<p>Madison's face was gray now as he walked up and down the room—there was +his own revulsion, his abhorrence at the part he had played, a frantic, +honorable eagerness to be rid of it; there were these others too who +looked to him, the Flopper and Pale Face Harry; and there was—Helena! +He did not dare to look at the misery in her face again—he was unmanned +enough now.</p> + +<p>And then Helena spoke.</p> + +<p>"It—it seems," she said, in a low broken way, "as if—as if God did not +want to pardon us—as if our repentance had come too late, and that +there was no Eleventh Hour for us." Then, in passionate pleading, facing +Madison: "God cannot mean that—it is we who cannot see. There is some +way out—there must be—there <i>must</i> be."</p> + +<p>"It begins and ends with the Patriarch," said Madison monotonously. "We +can't sacrifice him—can we! What's the use of going over it again? It +all comes back to the same point—the Patriarch."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I know, I know," she said piteously. "But think, +Doc—<i>think</i>! See now, we just send back all the money and jewels—we +know to whom they belong."</p> + +<p>"Well, what reason do we give?" Madison said heavily. "The Patriarch is +alive and well.<!-- Page 292 --> The immediate corollary is that from the moment we do +that, to-morrow morning for instance, every gift, every offering here is +suddenly refused. What reason do we give? If it were only the donors who +were to be considered it might be done. It's human nature that +ninety-nine out of every hundred of them"—his voice rose a little +bitterly—"would probably be only too glad to get their money back—and +the mere statement that you, as the Patriarch's grand-niece, his only +relative, on mature thought did not consider the project as planned +advisable might suffice. But this thing goes beyond that, beyond even +the remaining few who are earnestly interested and would cause us +trouble—it is world-wide in its publicity! Every newspaper in the land +would snatch at it for a headline, and ask—why? And they would not be +content with simply asking why—this thing is too big for that—too much +before the people's eyes—too good 'copy.' They'd start in to find +out—and the result is inevitable. Our safety so far has lain in the +fact that there has been no suspicion aroused; but snooping around a +bank vault at midnight with a mask on and a bull's-eye lantern fades to +a whisper as a suspicion-arouser compared with anybody willingly +coughing up a bunch of money once they've got their claws on it—and a +yellow journal, let alone an army corps of them, on the scent of a +possible sensation has all the detective bureaus in the country pinned +to the ropes—they'd have us uncovered quicker than I like to think +about it—and that means—"<!-- Page 293 --></p> + +<p>He stopped, and with a hurried motion, carried his hands across his +eyes—Helena, pure as one of God's own angels now, to come to that, to +come to—</p> + +<p>It was the Flopper who completed the sentence.</p> + +<p>"Ten spaces up de river," said the Flopper, and shivered, and his tongue +sought his lips; "or mabbe—mabbe twenty."</p> + +<p>Pale Face Harry stirred uneasily.</p> + +<p>"There's the other way," he said without looking up, his eyes on his +finger nail that traced the grain of the wood again. "Get the money and +the sparklers all done up and addressed to the ones they came from, send +'em off in a bunch to Thornton—and we fly the coop before he gets them, +disappear, fade away—and take our chances of getting caught."</p> + +<p>"An' den it's all off wid me an' Mamie"—the Flopper's face grew hard. +"Nix on dat! Dat don't go!"</p> + +<p>"We cannot do that, Harry," said Helena, in a tired voice. "There +is—the Patriarch."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Madison, beginning his stride up and down the room again. +"After all, whether we could give back the money without being caught, +or whether we couldn't, is not the vital thing; there is—the +Patriarch."</p> + +<p>Helena's eyes were on the silent figure in the shadows by the fireplace.</p> + +<p>"If—if it were not for him," she said, "I think that perhaps—perhaps I +might be brave enough to confess it all, and—and not try to escape<!-- Page 294 --> +from the punishment that I deserve. But he would know—he cannot see, +nor hear, nor speak, but he would know—as he seems so strangely, so +wonderfully, so supernaturally to know and understand everything. And, +oh, he means so much to me, to us all, for it is he, more than any one +else, who has saved us from—from what we were. And he loves us. It +would shatter his faith, ruin all that his life has meant to him, +and—and we cannot bring him grief and sorrow like that. Oh, what can we +do! What <i>can</i> we do! We cannot stop—and we cannot go on! We cannot +stay here even if we returned the money successfully, and we cannot stay +here if we kept it as it is; for things would still have to go on as +they are, even if we didn't mean to steal any more, no matter what we +might say or do, for it's beyond our control now, and to stay means that +we should still have to live and lead our double lives, still have to +practise hypocrisy and deceit, and—and I cannot—we cannot do that any +more. And the only way to get away from it all is to run away—and we +can't do that, either! There is—the Patriarch. We cannot leave him—to +break his heart—with none he loves to care for him. We can't do that. +He is a very old, old man, and—and I think he has been happy with us, +and—and we must make him happy always as long as he lives. We cannot go +away and leave him. We can't do that." Then, in a heartbroken, +despairing cry: "We can't do—<i>anything</i>!"<!-- Page 295 --></p> + +<p>No one answered her. She had begged Madison to go over it all again—and +she had summed it up herself. There was—the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>There was utter silence in the room now, save only for that low, solemn +boom of distant surf—for Madison had stopped his nervous pacing up and +down, and stood now by the Patriarch's armchair gazing into the +fireplace.</p> + +<p>The minutes passed, and the silence in that dim, shadowed room grew +tense—and tenser still—until the very shadows themselves, as the lamp +flickered now and then, seemed to creep and shift and readjust +themselves in stealth. No sound—no movement—utter stillness—only, +from without, the mourning of the surf, like a dirge now.</p> + +<p>And then, with a sudden sob, Helena flung out her arms across the table +toward the Patriarch.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if he could only speak!" she cried pitifully. "If he could only +speak—he would show us the way out."</p> + +<p>The words seemed to come to Madison as an added pang. He turned his eyes +instinctively from the fireplace to the Patriarch beside him—and then, +a moment, as a man stricken, he stood there—and then reaching quickly +for the lamp from the table he held it up, and leaned forward toward the +figure in the chair.</p> + +<p>Helena, startled at the act, rose almost unconsciously to her feet, her +hands holding tightly to the table edge—looking at Madison, looking at +the silent form where Pale Face Harry, where the Flopper looked.<!-- Page 296 --></p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked tensely, under her breath.</p> + +<p>Madison's lips moved—silently. His face was white, ashen—there was no +color in it. Then his lips moved once more.</p> + +<p>"The way out," he said; and again, in a low, awed way: "<i>The way out</i>. +We can make restitution now—we can give it all back—he <i>has</i> shown us +the way out."</p> + +<p>Helena's lips were quivering, tears were dimming the brown eyes, +trembling on the lashes, as she stepped now to Madison's side.</p> + +<p>"It is God who has shown us the way out," she whispered brokenly—and +dropping down before the chair, her little form shaken with sobs, she +hid her face on the Patriarch's knees.</p> + +<p>And serene and peaceful as a child in sleep, a smile like a benediction +on the saintly face, the Patriarch sat in his armchair by the fireplace +where he had been wont to sit in years gone by—and so he had passed on.</p> + +<p>The Patriarch was dead.<!-- Page 297 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>—XXIV—</h2> + +<h4>VALE!</h4> +<br/> + + +<p>The years have passed—but in their passing have brought few changes to +the little village nestling in the Maine pines that border on the sea. +Not many changes—it is as though Time had touched it loath to touch at +all; as though some spirit lingering there, sweet and fresh and vernal, +had bade Time stay its hand.</p> + +<p>Not many changes—the same familiar faces gather around the stove in the +hotel office; and, neither as a memory, nor yet as of one who has gone, +but as if he were amongst them, living still, they speak of the +Patriarch as of yore.</p> + +<p>And with this little circle of kindly, simple folk Time has dealt gently +too, for there is only one who is no more—Cale Rodgers, the proprietor +of the general store.</p> + +<p>But the general store on the village street still flourishes, and in +Cale Rodgers' place is one whose speech is still a marvelous thing in +staid old New England ears—it is an Irish brogue perhaps, for his name +is Michael Coogan. There are little Coogans too, and Mamie is a happy +wife.<!-- Page 298 --> And to the Coogans come sometimes letters from a far-western farm +to say that things are well and that prosperity has come to one who +signs himself—facetiously it always seems to Mamie who reads the +letters to her husband—as Pale Face Harry.</p> + +<p>And so the years have passed, and it is summer time again. The fields +are green; the trees in leaf; the flowers in bloom. And there are +visitors who have come again to the scenes of yesterday—a man and +woman—and between them a sturdy little lad of eight. They stop at the +end of the wagon track and look out across the lawn.</p> + +<p>It is still and peaceful, tranquil—and to them conies the soft, low +murmur of the surf. Slowly they walk across the lawn, and pass beneath +the splendid maples—and pause again.</p> + +<p>The cottage is like some poet's fancy, hidden shyly in its creepers and +its vines; and seems to speak and breathe in its simple beauty of the +gentle soul who once had lived there—and loved his fellow-men. It is as +it always was, open, free for all to pass within who wish to enter; for +loving hands have cared for it, and grateful purses, opened to its +needs, have kept it as—a Shrine.</p> + +<p>But they do not enter now, for Madison points to where the sunlight, as +it glints through the trees at the far end of the cottage, falls on a +slender shaft of marble.</p> + +<p>"Let us go there, Helena," he said softly.</p> + +<p>And so they walked that way, past the trellises<!-- Page 299 --> laden with flowers, +past the end of the cottage; and presently they stopped again where, +beneath the maples' shade, rises the pure white stone—and beyond it is +the sweep of the eternal sea.</p> + +<p>Madison, his hair streaking just a little gray at the temples now, +removed his hat—and his face softened, saddened, as he read the simple +inscription:</p> + +<h4>THE PATRIARCH</h4> + +<p>The boy glanced at his father a little wonderingly—and then spelt out +the words. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what that means," he said. "What does that word mean?"</p> + +<p>Madison patted his head.</p> + +<p>"You tell him, Helena," he said—and came and stood beside her.</p> + +<p>And so Helena told the boy in simple language as much of the Patriarch's +story as she thought he could understand—and when she had finished the +boy's face was aglow.</p> + +<p>"And!" he said breathlessly, "and—and did he ever do a really, +truly-truly miracle?"</p> + +<p>There was silence for an instant—then a tender smile came trembling to +Helena's lips, and into the brown eyes crept the love-light, as she +reached out to Madison and her hand found his and held it very tightly.</p> + +<p>And Madison bent and kissed her; and drew the little lad between them +and laid his hand on the boy's head, and answered for Helena.<!-- Page 300 --></p> + +<p>"Yes, my son," he said; "and some day when you are a man you will +understand how great a miracle it was."</p> + + +<br/> +<h1>THE END</h1> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Miracle Man, by Frank L. 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Packard + +Release Date: April 7, 2005 [EBook #15578] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIRACLE MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Pilar Somoza and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + THE + MIRACLE MAN + + + BY + FRANK L. PACKARD + + + AUTHOR OF + GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN, ETC. + + NEW YORK + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS + + 1914 + + + TO + NEARLY + EVERYBODY + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I THE "ROOST" + + II A NEW CULT + + III NEEDLEY + + IV THE PATRIARCH + + V A STRANGE CONVERSATION + + VI OFFICIALLY ENDORSED + + VII THE PATRIARCH'S GRAND NIECE + + VIII IN WHICH THE BAIT IS NIBBLED + + IX THE PILGRIMAGE + + X THE MIRACLE + + XI THE AFTERMATH + + XII "SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY" + + XIII REAL MONEY + + XIV KNOTTING THE STRINGS + + XV THE MIRACLE OVERDONE + + XVI A FLY IN THE OINTMENT + + XVII IN WHICH HELENA TAKES A RIDE + +XVIII THE BOOMERANG + + XIX THE SANCTUARY OF DARKNESS + + XX TO THE VICTOR ARE THE SPOILS + + XXI FACE VALUE + + XXII THE SHRINE + +XXIII THE WAY OUT + + XXIV VALE! + + + + + + +THE MIRACLE MAN + + + + +--I-- + +THE "ROOST" + + +He was a misshapen thing, bulking a black blotch in the night at the +entrance of the dark alleyway--like some lurking creature in its lair. +He neither stood, nor kneeled, nor sat--no single word would describe +his posture--he combined all three in a sort of repulsive, formless +heap. + +The Flopper moved. He came out from the alleyway onto the pavement, into +the lurid lights of the Bowery, flopping along knee to toe on one leg, +dragging the other leg behind him--and the leg he dragged was limp and +wobbled from the knee. One hand sought the pavement to balance himself +and aid in locomotion; the other arm, the right, was twisted out from +his body in the shape of an inverted V, the palm of his hand, with half +curled, contorted fingers, almost touching his chin, as his head sagged +at a stiff, set angle into his right shoulder. Hair straggled from the +brim of a nondescript felt hat into his eyes, and curled, dirty and +unshorn, around his ears and the nape of his neck. His face was covered +with a stubble of four days' growth, his body with rags--a coat; a +shirt, the button long since gone at the neck; and trousers gaping in +wide rents at the knees, and torn at the ankles where they flapped +around miss-mated socks and shoes. + +A hundred, two hundred people passed him in a block, the populace of the +Bowery awakening into fullest life at midnight, men, women and +children--the dregs of the city's scum--the aristocracy of upper Fifth +Avenue, of Riverside Drive, aping Bohemianism, seeking the lure of the +Turkey Trot, transported from the Barbary Coast of San Francisco. Rich +and poor, squalor and affluence, vice and near-vice surged by him, +voicing their different interests with laughter and sobs and soft words +and blasphemy, and, in a sort of mocking chorus, the composite effect +rose and fell in pitiful, jangling discords. + +Few gave him heed--and these few but a cursory, callous glance. The +Flopper, on the inside of the sidewalk, in the shadow of the buildings, +gave as little as he got, though his eyes were fastened sharply, now +ahead, now, screwing around his body to look behind him, on the faces of +the pedestrians as they passed; or, rather, he appeared to look through +and beyond those in his immediate vicinity to the ones that followed in +his rear from further down the street, or approached him from the next +corner. + +Suddenly the Flopper shrank into a doorway. From amidst the crowd +behind, the yellow flare of a gasoline lamp, outhanging from a +secondhand shop, glinted on brass buttons. An officer, leisurely +accommodating his pace to his own monarchial pleasure, causing his +hurrying fellow occupants of the pavement to break and circle around +him, sauntered casually by. The Flopper's black eyes contracted with +hate and a scowl settled on his face, as he watched the policeman pass; +then, as the other was lost again in the crowd ahead, he once more +resumed his progress down the block. + +The Flopper crossed the intersecting street, his leg trailing a +helpless, sinuous path on its not over-clean surface, and started along +the next block. Halfway down was a garishly lighted establishment. When +near this the Flopper began to hurry desperately, as from further along +the street again his ear caught the peculiar raucous note of an +automobile horn accompanied by the rumbling approach of a heavy motor +vehicle. He edged his way now, wriggling, squirming and dodging between +the pedestrians, to the outer edge of the sidewalk, and stopped in front +of the music hall. + +A sight-seeing car, crammed to capacity, reaching its momentary Mecca, +drew up at the curb; and the guide's voice rose over the screech of the +brakes: + +"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will get out here for a little while. +This is Black Ike's famous Auditorium, the scene of last week's +sensational triple murder! Please remember that there is no charge for +admission to patrons of the company. Just show your coupons, ladies and +gentlemen, and walk right ahead." + +The passengers began to pour from the long seats to the ground. The +Flopper's hat was in his hand. + +"Fer God's sake, gents an' ladies, don't pass me by," he cried +piteously. "I could work once, but look at me now--I was run over by a +fire truck. God bring pity to yer hearts--youse have money fer pleasure, +spare something fer me." + +The first man down from the seat halted and stared at the twisted, +unsightly thing before him, and, with a little gasp, reached into his +pocket and dropped a bill into the Flopper's hat. + +"God bless you!" stammered the Flopper--and the tears sprang swimming to +his eyes. + +The first man passed on with a gruff, "Oh, all right," but he had left +an example behind him that few of his fellow passengers ignored. + +"T'ank you, mum," mumbled the Flopper, as the money dropped into his +hat. "God reward you, sir.... Ah, miss, may you never know a tear.... +'Twas heaven brought you 'ere to-night, lady." + +They passed, following the guide. The Flopper scooped the money into a +pile in his hat, began to tuck it away in some recess of his shirt--when +a hand was thrust suddenly under his nose. + +"Come on, now, divvy!" snapped a voice in his ear. + +It was the driver of the car, who had dropped from his seat to the +ground. A gleam of hate replaced the tears in the Flopper's eyes. + +"Go to hell!" he snarled through thin lips--and his hand closed +automatically over the cap. + +"Come on, now, I ain't got no time to fool!" prompted the man, with a +leer. "I'm dead onto your lay, and there's a bull comin' along now--half +or him, which?" + +The Flopper's eyes caught the brass buttons of the officer returning on +his beat, and his face was white with an inhuman passion, as, clutching +a portion of what was left in the hat, he lifted his hand from the rest. + +"Thanks!" grinned the chauffeur, snatching at the remainder. "'Tain't +half, but it'll do"--and he hurried across the sidewalk, and disappeared +inside a saloon. + +Oaths, voicing a passion that rocked the Flopper to his soul, purled in +a torrid stream from his lips, and for a moment made him forget the +proximity of the brass buttons. He raised his fist, that still clenched +some of the money, and shook it after the other--and his fist, uplifted +in midair, was caught in a vicious grip--the harness bull was standing +over him. + +"Beat it!" rasped the officer roughly, "or I'll--hullo, what you got +here? Open your hand!"--he gave a sharp twist as he spoke, the +Flopper's fingers uncurled, and the money dropped into the policeman's +other hand--held conveniently below the Flopper's. + +"It's mine--gimme it back," whined the Flopper. + +"Yours! Yours, is it!" growled the officer. "Where'd you get it? Stole +it, eh? Go on, now, beat it--or I'll run you in! Beat it!" + +With twitching fingers, the Flopper picked up his cap, placed it on his +head and sidled away. Ten yards along, in the shadow of the buildings +again, he looked back--the officer was still standing there, twirling +his stick, one hand just emerging from his pocket. The Flopper's finger +nails scratched along the stone pavement and curved into the palm of his +hand until the skin under the knuckles was bloodless white, and his lips +moved in ugly, whispered words--then, still whispering, he went on +again. + +Down the Bowery he went like a human toad, keeping in the shadows, +keeping his eyes on the ground before him, a glint like a shudder in +their depths--on he went with hopping, lurching jerks, with whispering +lips. Street after street he passed, and then at a corner he turned and +went East--not far, only to the side entrance of the saloon on the +corner known, to those who _knew_, as the "Roost." + +The door before which he stopped, on a level with the street, might +readily have passed for the entrance to one of the adjoining tenements, +for it was innocent to all appearances of any connection with the +unlovely resort of which it was a part--and it was closed. + +The Flopper rang no bell. After a quick glance around him to assure +himself that he was not observed, he reached up for the doorknob, turned +it, and with surprising agility hopped oven the threshold and closed the +door behind him. + +A staircase, making one side of a narrow and dimly lighted hall, from +down whose length came muffled sounds from the barroom, was before him; +and this, without hesitation, the Flopper began to mount, his knee +thumping from step to step, his dangling leg echoing the sound in a +peculiar; quick double thump. He reached the first landing, went along +it, and started up the second flight--but now the thumping sound he made +seemed accentuated intentionally, and upon his face there spread a grin +of malicious humor. + +He halted before the door opposite the head of the second flight of +stairs, opened it, wriggled inside and shut it behind him. + +"Hullo, Helena!" he snickered. "Pipe me comin'?" + +The room was a fairly large one, gaudily appointed with cheap +furnishings, one of the Roost's private parlors--a girl on a couch in +the corner had raised herself on her elbow, and her dark eyes were fixed +uncompromisingly upon the Flopper, but she made no answer. + +The Flopper laughed--then a spasm seemed to run through him, a horrible +boneless contortion of limbs and body, a slippery, twitching movement, +a repulsive though almost inaudible clicking of rehabilitated +joints--and the Flopper stood erect. + +The girl was on her feet, her eyes flashing. + +"Can that stunt!" she cried angrily. "You give me the shivers! Next time +you throw your fit, you throw it before you come around me, or I'll make +you wish you had--see?" + +The Flopper was swinging legs and arms to restore a normal channel of +circulation. + +"Y'oughter get used to it," said he, with a grin. "Ain't Pale Face Harry +come yet, an' where's the Doc?" + +"Behind the axe under the table," said the girl tartly--and flung +herself back on the couch. + +"T'anks," said the Flopper. "Say, Helena, wot's de new lay de Doc has +got up his sleeve?" + +Helena made no answer. + +"Is yer grouch painin' you so's yer tongue's hurt?" inquired the Flopper +solicitously. + +Still no answer. + +"Well, go to the devil!" said the Flopper politely. + +He resumed the swinging of his arms and legs, but stopped suddenly a +moment later as a step, sounded outside in the hall and he turned +expectantly. + +A young man, thin, emaciated, with gaunt, hollow face, abnormally bright +eyes and sallow skin, entered. He was well, but modestly, dressed; and +he coughed a little now, as though the two flights' climb had overtaxed +him--it was the man who had headed the subscription list to the Flopper +half an hour before in front of Black Ike's Auditorium. + +"Hello, Helena!" he greeted, nodding toward the couch. "I shook the +rubber-neck bunch at Ike's, Flopper. That was a peach of a haul, eh, old +pal--the boobs came to it as though they couldn't get enough." + +A sudden and reminiscent scowl clouded the Flopper's face. He stepped to +the table, reached his hand into his shirt, and flung down a single +one-dollar bill and a few coins. + +"Dere's de haul, Harry--help yerself"--his invitation was a snarl. + +Pale Face Harry had followed to the table. He looked first at the money, +then at the Flopper--and a tinge of red dyed his cheek. He coughed +before he spoke. + +"Y'ain't going to stall on _me_, Flopper, are you?" he demanded, in an +ominous monotone. + +"Stall!"--the word came away in a roar too genuine to leave any doubt of +the Flopper's sincerity, or the turbulent state of the Flopper's soul. +"Stall nothin'! De driver held me up fer some of it, an' de cop pinched +de rest." + +"And you the king of Floppers!" breathed Pale Face Harry sadly. "D'ye +hear that, Helena? Come over here and listen. Go ahead, Flopper, tell us +about it." + +Helena rose from the couch and came over to the table. + +"Poor Flopper!" said she sweetly. + +"Shut up!" snapped the Flopper savagely. + +"Go on," prompted Pale Face Harry. "Go on, Flopper--tell us about it." + +"I told you, ain't I?" growled the Flopper. "De driver called a divvy +wid de cop comin', an I had ter shell--an' wot he left de cop pinched. +Dat's all"--the Flopper's mouth was working again with the rage that +burned within him. + +Pale Face Harry, with pointed forefinger, gingerly and facetiously laid +the coins out in a row on the table. + +"And you the king of Floppers!" he murmured softly. "It's a wonder you +didn't let the Salvation Army get the rest away from you on the way +along!" + +Helena laughed--but the Flopper didn't. He stepped close to Pale Face +Harry, and shoved his face within an inch of the other's. + +"You close yer jaw," he snarled, "or I'll make yer map look like wot's +goin' ter happen ter dat cross-eyed snitch of a guy dat did me--him an' +de harness bull, when I--" The Flopper stopped abruptly, and edged away +from Pale Face Harry. "Hullo, Doc," he said meekly. "I didn't hear youse +comin' in." + +A man, fair-haired, broad-shouldered, immaculate in well-tailored +tweeds, reliant in poise, leaned nonchalantly against the door--inside +the room. He was young, not more than twenty-eight, with clean-shaven, +pleasant, open face--a handsome face, marred only to the close observer +by the wrinkles beginning to pucker around his eyes, and a slight, +scarcely discernible puffiness in his skin--"Doc" Madison, gentleman +crook and high-class, polished con-man, who had lifted his profession to +an art, was still too young to be indelibly stamped with the hall-marks +of dissipation. + +His gray eyes travelled from one to another, lingered an instant on +Helena, and came back to the Flopper. + +"What's the trouble?" he demanded quietly. + +It was Pale Face Harry who answered him. + +"The Flopper's got it in for a couple of ginks that handed him one--a +bull and a chauffeur on a gape-wagon," he grinned, punctuating his words +with a cough. "The Flopper's got an idea the corpse-preserver's business +is dull, and he's going to help 'em out with two orders and pay for the +flowers himself." + +Doc Madison shook his head and smiled a little grimly. + +"Forget it, Flopper!" he said crisply. "I've something better for you to +do. You fade away, disappear and lay low from this minute. I don't care +what you do when you're resurrected, but from now on the three of you +are dead and buried, and the police go into mourning for at least six +months." + +"What you got for us, Doc?--something nice?"--Helena pushed Pale Face +Harry and the Flopper unceremoniously out of her line of vision as she +spoke. + +"Yes--the drinks. Cleggy's bringing them," Madison laughed--and opened +the door, as the tinkle of glass and a shuffling footstep sounded +without. + +A man, big, hulking, thick-set and slouching, with shifty, cunning +little black eyes and the face of a bruiser, his nose bent over and +almost flattened down on one cheek, entered the room, carrying four +glasses on a tin tray. He set down the tray, and, as he lifted the +glasses from it and placed them on the table, he leered around at the +little group. + +"Gee!" he said, sucking in his breath. "De Doc, an' Helena, an' Pale +Face, an' de Flopper! Gee, dis looks like de real t'ing--dis looks like +biz." + +"It does--fifty-cents' worth--ten for yourself," said Doc Madison +suavely, flipping the coin into the tray. "Now, clear out!" + +"Say"--Cleggy put his forefinger significantly to the side of his +nose--"say, can't youse let a sport in on--" + +"Clear out!" Doc Madison broke in quite as suavely as before--but there +was a sudden glint of steel in the gray eyes as they held the bruiser's, +and Cleggy, hastily picking up the tray, scuffled from the room. + +Madison watched the door close, then he began to pace slowly up and down +the room. + +"Pull the chairs up to the table so we can take things comfortably," he +directed. + +"There ain't but two," grinned Pale Face Harry. + +"Oh, well, never mind," said Madison. + +"Slew the couch around and pull that up--Helena and I will sit on the +head of it." + +Still pacing up and down the length of the room, his hands in his +pockets, Doc Madison watched the others as they carried out his +directions; and then, suddenly, as he neared the door, his hand shot +out, wrenched the door open, and, quick as a panther in its spring, he +was in the hall without. + +There was a yell, a scuffle, the rip and crash of rending bannisters, an +instant's silence, then a heavy thud--and then Cleggy's voice from +somewhere below in a choice and fervent flow of profanity. + +Doc Madison re-entered the room, closed the door, dispassionately +arranged a disordered cuff, brushed a few particles of dust from his +sleeves and shoulder, and, this done, started toward the table--and +stopped. + +Helena had swung herself to the table edge, and, glass in hand, dangling +her neatly shod little feet, was smoking a cigarette, her brown hair +with a glint of amber in it, her dark eyes veiled now by their heavy +lashes; on the other side of the table Pale Face Harry coughed, as, with +sleeve rolled back, he was intent on the hypodermic needle he was +pushing into his arm; while the Flopper, his eyes with a dog-like +admiration in them fixed on Madison, stood facing the door, a grotesque, +unpleasant figure, unkempt, unshaven, furtive-faced, his rags hanging +disreputably about him, his trousers with their frayed edges, now that +he stood upright, reaching far above his boot tops and flagrantly +exposing his wretched substitutes for socks. + +Doc Madison reached thoughtfully into his pocket, brought out a silver +cigarette case, and carefully selected a cigarette from amongst its +fellows. + +"Yes; Cleggy was right," he said softly, tapping the end of the +cigarette on his thumb nail. "You're the real thing--the real, real +thing." + + + + +--II-- + +A NEW CULT + + +Doc Madison swung Helena lightly down from the table to the head of the +couch, sat down beside her, one arm circling her waist, and motioned the +Flopper to a chair--then he leaned forward and watched Pale Face Harry +critically, as the latter carefully replaced the shining little +hypodermic in its case. + +"Harry," said he abruptly, jerking his free hand toward the hypodermic, +"could you give up that dope-needle?" + +"Sure, I could--if I wanted to!" asserted Pale Face Harry defiantly. + +"That's good," said Madison cheerfully. "Because you'll have to." + +"Eh?"--Pale Face Harry stared at Doc Madison in amazement. + +"Because you'll have to--by and by," said Madison coolly. "And how about +that cough--can you quit coughing?" + +"When I'm dead--which won't be long," sniffed Pale Face Harry. "D'ye +think I cough because I like it? How'm I going to quit coughing?" + +"I don't know," admitted Doc Madison, frowning seriously. "I only know +you'll have to." + +Pale Face Harry, with jaw dropped, accentuating the gaunt leanness of +his hollow-cheeked, emaciated face, gazed at Doc Madison with a curious +mingling of incredulity and affront--and coughed. + +"Say," he inquired grimly, "what's the answer?" + +Doc Madison took his arm from Helena's waist, pulled a newspaper from +his pocket, spread it out on the table--and his manner changed +suddenly--enthusiasm was in his eyes, his voice, his face. + +"I've steered you three through a few deals," said he impressively, +"that have sized up big enough to keep you out of the raw vaudeville +turn you, Harry, and you, Flopper, are so fond of, and that would have +put Helena here on easy street, if you hadn't blown in all you got about +ten minutes after you got your hands on it--but I've got one here that +sizes up so big you wouldn't be able to spend the money fast enough to +close out your bank account if you did your damnedest! Get that? It's +the greatest cinch that ever came down from the gateway of heaven--and +that's where it came from--heaven. It couldn't have come from anywhere +else--it's too good. And it's new, bran new--it's never had the string +cut or the wrapper taken off. It's got anything that was ever run beaten +by more laps than there are in the track, and it's got a purse tied on +to the end of it that's the biggest ever offered since Adam. But you've +got to work for it, and that's what I brought you here for to-night--to +learn your little pieces so's you can say 'em nice and cute when you get +up on the platform before the audience." + +The Flopper's tongue made a greedy circuit of his upper and under lips, +and he hitched his chair closer to the table. + +A flush spread over Pale Face Harry's cheeks, and his eyes, abnormally +bright, grew brighter. + +"You're all right, Doc," he assured Doc Madison anxiously. "You're all +right." + +"U-uu-mm!" cooed Helena excitedly. "Go on, Doc--go on!" + +"Listen," said Doc Madison, his voice lowered a little. "I found this +tucked away as a filler in a corner of the newspaper this evening. It's +headed, 'A New Cult,' with an interrogation mark after it. Now listen, +while I read it:" + + A NEW CULT? + + Needley, Maine, offers no attraction for aspiring young medical + men. One who tried it recently, and who pulled down his shingle in + disgust after a week, says competition is too strong, as the + village is obsessed with the belief that they have a sort of + faith-healer in their midst to whom is attributed cures of all + descriptions stretching back for a generation or more. The healer, + he adds, who rejoices in the name of the Patriarch and lives in + solitude a mile or so from the village, is something of an anomaly + in himself, being both deaf and dumb. We-- + +"But that's all that interests us," said Doc Madison, as he stopped +reading abruptly and lifted his head to scrutinize his companions +quizzically. + +Pale Face Harry's eyes had lost their gleam and dulled--he gaped +reproachfully at Doc Madison. Helena's small mouth drooped downward in a +disappointed _moue_. Only the Flopper evidenced enthusiastic response. + +"Sure!" he chortled. "Sure t'ing! I see. De old geezer'll have a pile of +shekels hid away, an' he lives by his lonesome a mile from de town. We +sneaks down dere, croaks de guy wid de queer monaker, an' beats it wid +de shekels--sure!" + +Doc Madison turned a sad gray eye on the Flopper. + +"Flopper," said he pathetically, "your soul, like your bones, runs to +rank realism. No; we don't 'croak de guy'--we cherish him, we nurse him, +we fondle him. He's our one best bet, and we fold him to our breasts +tenderly, and we protect him from all harm and danger and sudden death." + +The Flopper blinked a little helplessly. + +"Mabbe," said the Flopper, "I got de wrong dope. Some of dem words you +read I ain't hip to. Wot's anymaly mean?" + +"Anomaly?"--Doc Madison reached for his glass, tossed off the contents +and set it down. "It means, Flopper, in this particular instance," he +said gravely, "that there shouldn't be any interrogation point after the +heading." + +Again the Flopper blinked helplessly--and his fingers picked uncertainly +at the stubble on his chin. The other two gazed disconsolately--and +Helena a little pityingly as well--at Doc Madison. + +Doc Madison flung out his arms suddenly. + +"What's the matter with you all?" he demanded sarcastically. "You look +as though your faces pained you! What's the matter with you? You're +bright enough ordinarily, Helena, and, Harry, you're no dub--what's the +matter with you? Can't you see it--can't you see it! Why, it's sticking +out a mile--it's _waiting_ for us! The whole plant's there and all we've +got to do is get steam under the boilers. We'll have 'em coming for the +cure from every State in the Union, and begging us to let them throw +their diamond tiaras at us for a look-in at the shrine. Don't you see +it--can't you get it--can't you _get_ it!" + +Helena bent suddenly over Doc Madison's shoulder, her eyes opening wide +with dawning comprehension. + +"The cure?" she breathed. + +"Sure--the cure," said Doc Madison earnestly. "The new cult--that's us. +Get the people talking, show 'em something, and you'll have to put up +fences and 'keep off the grass' signs to stop the lame and the halt and +the blind and the neurasthenics from crowding and suffocating to death +for want of air. We'll start a shrine down there that'll be a winner, +and the railroads will be running excursion-rate pilgrimages inside of +two months." + +Pale Face Harry's chair creaked, as, like the Flopper, he now crowded it +in toward the table. + +"I get you!" said he feverishly. "I get you! I've read about them +shrines--only you gotter have churches, and a carload of crutches, and +that sort of thing laying around." + +Doc Madison smiled pleasantly. + +"Yes; you've got me, Harry--only we'll do the stage setting a little +differently. Mostly what is required is--faith. Get them going on that, +and everybody that's sick or near-sick in this great United States, +that's got the swellest collection of boobs and millionaires on earth, +will swarm thitherward like bees--there won't be any one left in the +sanatoriums throughout the length of this broad land of freedom but the +bell boys and the elevator men. Get them going, and all we've got to do +is look out we don't let anything get by us in the crush--a snowball +rolling down hill will size up like a plugged nickel alongside of a +twenty-dollar gold piece when it gets to the bottom, compared with what +we start rolling." + +"I've got you, too," said Helena. "But I don't see where the faith is +coming from, or how you're going to get them coming. You've got to show +them--you said so yourself--even the boobs. How are you going to do +that?" + +"Well," said Doc Madison placidly, "we'll start the show with--a +miracle. I haven't thought of anything more effective than that so +far." + +"A what?" inquired Pale Face Harry, with a grin. + +"A miracle," repeated Doc Madison imperturbably. "A miracle--with the +Flopper here in the star role. The Flopper goes down there all tied up +in knots, the high priest, alias the deaf and dumb healer, alias the +Patriarch, lays his soothing hands upon him, the Flopper uncoils into +something that looks like a human being--and the trumpets blow, the band +plays, and the box office opens for receipts." + +Helena slid from her seat, and, with hands on the edge of the table, +advanced her piquant little face close to Doc Madison's, staring at him, +breathing hard. + +"Say that again," she gasped. "Say that again--say it just once more." + +Pale Face Harry's hand, trembling visibly with emotion, was thrust out +across the table. + +"Put it there, Doc," he whispered hoarsely. + +The Flopper, practical, earnestly so, lifted his right arm, wriggled it +a little and began to twist it around, as though it were on a pivot at +the elbow, preparatory to drawing it in, a crippled thing, toward his +chin. + +Doc Madison reached out hurriedly and stopped him. + +"Here, that'll do, Flopper," he said quietly. "You don't need any +rehearsal to hold your job--you're down for the number and your check's +written out." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper to the universe. "I can smell de pine woods +of Maine in me nostrils now. When does I beat it, Doc--to-morrer?" + +Doc Madison laughed. + +"No, Flopper, not to-morrow--nor for several to-morrows--not till the +bill-posters get through, and the stage is dark, and you can hear a pin +drop in the house. I don't want you camping out and catching cold and +missing any of the luxuries you're accustomed to, so I'll start along +ahead in a day or so myself and see what kind of accommodations I can +secure." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper again. "An' to think of me wastin' me +talent on rubber-neck fleets!" + +A puzzled little frown puckered Helena's forehead. + +"I was thinking about the deaf and dumb man," she said slowly. "How +about him, when we pull this off--will he stand for it--and what'll he +do?" + +"Aw!" said Pale Face Harry impatiently. "He don't count! He'll have bats +in his belfry anyway, and if he ain't he'll go off his chump for fair +getting stuck on himself when he sees the stunt he'll think he's done. +He'll be looking for the wings between his shoulder blades, and hunting +for the halo around his head." + +"Harry is waking up," observed Doc Madison affably. "That's about the +idea, Helena. I haven't seen the Patriarch yet, but I don't imagine from +his description that it'll be very hard to make him believe in himself. +He doesn't stand for anything--we don't deal him any cards--he's just +the kitty that circles around with the jackpots while we annex the +chips." + +Doc Madison reached into his vest pocket, took out a penknife whose +handle was gold-chased, opened it, and very carefully cut the article he +had read from the paper. + +"Flopper," said he, "you've heard of gold bonds, haven't you?" + +The Flopper's eyes gleamed an eloquent response. + +"Only you've never had any, eh?" supplied Doc Madison. + +"Where'd I get 'em?" inquired the Flopper, with some bitterness. + +"Right here," smiled Doc Madison, handing him the clipping. "Here's a +trainload and a bank vault full of them combined. Put it away, Flopper, +and don't lose it. Lose anything you've got first--lose your life. It's +worth a private car to you with a buffet full of fizz, and Sambo to wait +on you for the rest of your life. Get that? Don't lose it!" + +The Flopper tucked the clipping into the mysterious recess of his shirt. + +"Say," he said earnestly, "if you say so, Doc, it'll be here when dey +plant me." + +"All right, Flopper," nodded Doc Madison. "And now let's get down to +cases. I've been able to pay my club dues lately, and there's money +enough on deck to buy the costumes and put the show on the road. I start +for Needley as soon as I can get away. When I'm ready for the support, +you three will hear from me--and in the meantime you lay low. Nothing +doing--understand? You'll get all the lime-light you want before you're +through, and it's just as well not to show up so familiar when they +throw the spot on you that even the school kids will know the date of +your birth, and the population will start in squabbling over the choice +of reserved niches for you in the Hall of Fame. See?" + +The Flopper, Pale Face Harry and Helena nodded their heads with one +accord. + +"Give us the whole lay, Doc," urged Pale Face Harry. "And give it to us +quick." + +"Me mouth's waterin'," observed the Flopper, licking his lips again. + +Helena lighted another cigarette, and swung herself back to her perch on +the head of the couch. + +Doc Madison surveyed the three with mingled admiration and delight. + +"The world is ours!" he murmured softly. + +"Oh, hurry up and give us the rest of it," purred Helena. "We know we're +an all-star cast, all right." + +"Very good," said Doc Madison--and laughed. "Well then, the order of +your stage cues will depend on circumstances and what turns up down +there, but we'll start with the Flopper now. First of all, Flopper, +you've got to have a name. What's your real name--what did they decorate +you with at the baptismal font back in the dark ages?" + +The Flopper scrubbed at his very dirty chin with a very dirty thumb and +forefinger. + +"I dunno," said the Flopper anxiously. + +"Well, never mind," said Doc Madison reassuringly. "Maybe you are +blessed above most people--you can pick one out for yourself. What'll it +be?" + +The Flopper's thumb and forefinger scratched desperately for a moment, +then his face lighted with inspiration. + +"Swipe me!" said he excitedly. "I got it--Jimmy de Squirm." + +Doc Madison shook his head gravely. + +"No, Flopper, I'm afraid not," he said gently. "That's another weak +point in your interpretation of the role, that I'll come to in a minute. +We'll give you an Irish name by way of charity--it'll help to make your +classical English sound like brogue. We'll call you Coogan--Michael +Coogan--that lets you off with plain Mike in times of stress." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper, with perfect complacence. + +"Glad it pleases you," smiled Doc Madison, "Here's your lay, then. +You've got to remember that you were born crooked and--" + +Helena giggled. + +"I didn't mean it"--Doc Madison's gray eyes twinkled. "You are waking +up, too, Helena. I mean, Flopper, you've got to remember that you were +born twisted up into the same shape you are in when you hit Needley. You +come from--let's see--we'll have to have a big city where the next door +neighbors pass each other with a vacant stare. Ever been in Chicago?" + +"Naw! Wot fer?" said the Flopper, with withering spontaneity. "Noo Yoik +fer mine." + +"Well, all right--New York it is, then," agreed Doc Madison. "You're +poor, but respectable--and that brings us to the other point. Before you +go down there, Helena's going to start a little night-school with a +grammar, and teach you to paddle along the fringe of the great American +language so's you won't fall in and get wet all over every time you open +your mouth." + +"My!" exclaimed Helena. "Won't that be nice!" + +"I hope so," said Doc Madison drily. "And don't run away with the idea +that I'm joking about this--that goes. I don't expect to make a +silver-tongued orator out of you, Flopper, and perhaps not even a +purist--but I hope to eradicate a few minor touches of Bad Land +vernacular from your vocabulary." + +"I've gotcher--swipe me!" grinned the Flopper. "Me at school! Say, +wouldn't that put a smile on de maps of de harness bulls, an' de dips, +an' de lags doin' spaces up de river!" + +"Quite so," admitted Doc Madison pleasantly. + +"You won't laugh when I get through with you," remarked Helena, her eyes +on the curl of smoke from her cigarette. + +"There's just one more thing," went on Doc Madison, "and I'm through +with you, Flopper. Don't come down there looking like a skate--that's +too raw. Get new clothes and a shave--and keep shaved. And from the +minute you buy your ticket, you keep your bones, or whatever a +beneficent nature has given you in place of them, out of joint--see?" + +"I'm hip," declared the Flopper--and the dog-like admiration for Doc +Madison burned in his eyes. "Say, Doc, youse are de--" + +"Never mind, Flopper," Madison cut in brightly. "It's getting late. Now, +Harry, about you. You've got a name, I believe. Evans, isn't it? +Yes--well, that will do. Now, don't kill yourself at it, but the more +you work your dope needle overtime before you start, and the harder you +cough when you first land there the better. We've got to have variety, +you know. You're a physical wreck with the folks back home sending the +casket and trimmings after you on the next train in care of the station +agent." + +"I guess," coughed Pale Face Harry, with a sickly smile, "I look the +part." + +"You certainly do," said Helena cheerfully, beating a tattoo with her +heels on the end of the couch. + +Pale Face Harry scowled. + +"I ain't no artist with the paint," he sniffed. + +"I don't paint," said Helena sweetly. "It's rouge." + +"Are you through?" inquired Doc Madison patiently. "Because, if you are, +I'll go on. When the train whistles for Needley, Harry, you put the soft +pedal on the dope--that ought to help some. And then you begin to taper +that cough off and become a cure--that's all." + +"I ain't like the Flopper," said Pale Face Harry ruefully. "I told you +once I can't stop the hack, and I ask you again how'm I going to?" + +"Have faith in the Patriarch," suggested Helena innocently. + +"You close your trap!" exclaimed Pale Face Harry savagely; then, to +Madison: "Go on, Doc--it's up to you." + +"No," said Doc Madison coolly, "it's up to you. You've got to try, and +if you can't stop altogether you can make yourself scarce when you feel +the fit coming on--you won't have to climb up on the grandstand and +cough in people's faces, will you?" + +"He might carry a screen around with him and cough behind that," +volunteered Helena. "That's enough about the Flopper and Pale Face--what +about muh? Where do I get off?" + +"You?" said Doc Madison calmly. "Oh, you're a moral neurasthenic." + +"And what's that when it's at home?" demanded Helena sharply. + +Doc Madison threw out his hands in a comically helpless, impotent +gesture. + +"It's what we need to keep up the standard of variety," he said. "We're +playing to the masses. Don't you like the role, Helena--it's the leading +woman's." + +"What do I do?" countered Helena non-committingly. + +"Do?" echoed Doc Madison. "Why, you go down there like a whole parade +and a gorgeous pageant rolled into one, in feathers and paint and +diamond boulders in your ears--and you come out of it in a gingham apron +and coy sunbonnet as sweet sixteen." + +"Oh!" said Helena--and her eyes were on the curl of smoke from her +cigarette again. + +"Say," said Pale Face Harry suddenly, evidently still worried about his +cough, "we ain't going to have no easy cinch of this." + +"No," said Doc Madison, with a grim smile; "you're not! It's going to be +the hardest work any of you have ever done--you've got to lead decent +lives for awhile." + +"Sure--dat's right," said the loyal Flopper; "but we stands fer anyt'ing +dat de Doc says--an' dat goes!" + +"It'll come hard on some of us," remarked Pale Face Harry, with a sly +glance at Helena, which met with contemptuous silence. + +Doc Madison leaned back, felt carefully at his carefully adjusted +tie--and smiled engagingly. + +"Well?" he asked. "Can you see them coming?" + +Pale Face Harry stared at him with a far-away expression in his eyes. + +"When we get through with this, if I ain't handed in my checks before," +he said dreamily, "it's mine for a brownstone on the Avenue, and one of +them life-size landscapes with a shack on it for the season down to Pa'm +Beach that they call country cottages. I'll dress the ginks that scrub +the horses down in solid gold braid, and put the corpse of chamber +ladies in Irish lace--I bust into society, marry a duke's one and only, +and swipe her coronet for my manly brow. Did you ask me anything, Doc?" + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper. "Me in me private Pullman in a plush seat +an' anudder to put me feet in, an' me thumbs in de armholes of me vest. +I wears a high polished lid an' a red tie, an' scatters simoleans outer +de window in me travels to the gazaboes on de platforms as I pass--an' +den I joins Tammany Hall so's I can stick me fingers to me nose every +time I sees a cop." + +"Flopper," said Doc Madison in an awed voice, "the honor is all mine." + +Helena went off into a peal of rippling, silvery, contagious laughter, +and her little heels again beat an exuberant tattoo on the end of the +couch. + +"Yes?" invited Doc Madison, smiling at her. + +"I'm seeing them coming," said Helena--and one heel went through the +cretonne upholstery of the couch. + +"Good!" said Doc Madison--and from the inside pocket of his coat he +pulled out a package of crisp, new, yellow-backed bills. "You +understand that down there none of you ever heard of each other or of me +before, and you drop the 'doc'--bury it! My name is John G. Madison--G. +for Garfield." His fingers passed deftly over the edges of the bills. He +pushed a little pile toward the Hopper, another toward Pale Face Harry, +and tucked the remainder into his coat pocket again. "That'll do for +expenses," he said. "And now, if you understand everything, principally +that you're to go to church Sundays till you hear from me, and you're +quite satisfied with the lay, we'll adjourn, _sine die_, to Needley." + +Helena was holding out a very dainty hand, with pink, wiggling fingers. + +"I'll need, oh, ever so much more than they will," she declared, with a +bewitching pout. "And, please, I'm waiting very patiently." + +Doc Madison laughed. + +"By and by, Helena," he said, patting her hand. "Well, Flopper, well, +Harry--what do you say?" + +The Flopper pushed back his chair and stood up hesitantly like a man +unexpectedly called upon for an after-dinner speech. He stood there +awkwardly a moment gazing at Doc Madison, his tongue slowly circling his +lips; then, with a gulp, as though words to express his feelings were +utterly beyond him, he turned and started for the door. + +Pale Face Harry, as he rose, shoved out his hand. + +"I don't deserve my luck to be in on this," he said modestly. "Only, +Doc, push it along on the high gear, will you--I ain't going to be able +to sleep thinking about it." He looked at Helena a little +undecidedly--and compromised on brevity. "'Night, Helena," he flung out. + +"Oh, good-night, Harry," she smiled. + +The Flopper turned at the door and came back a few steps into the room. + +"Say, Doc," he said, blinking furiously, "youse can wipe yer feet on me +any time youse like--dat's wot!" + +"All right, Flopper," said Doc Madison gravely. "When you've joined +Tammany Hall--good-night." He followed across the room, and from the +doorway watched the two descend the stairs. "Good-night," he said again, +then closed the door and came back into the room. "Well, Helena?" he +remarked tentatively. + +"Well--Garfield?"--Helena clasped her hands around one knee and rocked +gently. + +"Don't be familiar, Helena," Doc Madison chuckled. "Is that all you've +got to say?" + +"I'm busy thinking about The Great American Play," she said pertly. +"There's one thing you forgot." + +"What's that?" he asked, still smiling. + +"The curtain on the last act," she said. "The getaway." + +Doc Madison shook his head. + +"Nothing doing!" he returned. "There's no getaway. It's safe--so safe +that there's nothing to it. We don't guarantee anything, and there's no +entrance fee to the pavilion--all contributions are strictly voluntary." + +"That's all right," said Helena. "But of course we can't really cure +them. We can get them going hard enough to make them think they are for +awhile, but after they've thrown away their crutches and got back +home--what then?" + +"Well, what then?" inquired Doc Madison easily. + +"They'll yell 'fake!' and swear out warrants," said Helena, her dark +eyes studying Doc Madison. + +"Not according to statistics," replied Doc Madison, and his lips +twitched quizzically at the corners. "According to statistics they'll +buy another crutch and come back to buck the tiger again. Say, Helena, +to-morrow, you go up to the public library and read up on +shrines--they've been running since the ark--and they're running still. +You never heard any howl about them, did you? What's the answer to those +cures?" + +"That's different," said Helena. "That's religion, and they've got +relics and things." + +"It's faith," said Doc Madison, "and it doesn't matter what the basis of +it is. Faith, Helena, _faith_--get that? And we're going to imbue them +with a faith that'll set them crazy and send them into hysterics. And +talk about relics! Haven't we got one? Look at the Patriarch! Can't you +see the whole town yelling 'I told you so!' and swopping testimonials +hard enough to crowd the print down so fine, if you tried to get it all +into the papers, that you'd have to use a magnifying glass to read it, +once we've pulled off the miracle? Don't you worry about the getaway. If +there's any sign of anything like that, you and I, Helena, will be +taking moonlight rides in the gondolas of Venice long before it breaks." + +Helena choked--and began to laugh deliciously. + +Doc Madison stared at her for a moment whimsically--then he, too, burst +into a laugh. + +"Oh, Lord!" he gurgled. "It's rich, isn't it?" And sweeping Helena off +the couch and into his arms, he began to dance around and around the +table. "Ring-around-a-rosy!" he cried. "We haven't done so bad in the +misty past, but here's where we cross to the enchanted shore and play on +jewelled harps with golden strings and--" + +"Is that all?" gasped Helena, laughing and breathless, as at last she +pulled herself away. + +"No," panted Doc Madison. "There's a table I've reserved up at the +Rivoli that's waiting for us now. We're about to part for days and days, +lady mine, that's the tough luck of it, but we'll make a night of it +to-night anyway--what?" + +"You bet!" said Helena, doing a cake-walk towards the door. "Come on!" + + + + +--III-- + +NEEDLEY + + +"Needley?" + +It wasn't wholly an interrogation--it seemed to Madison that there was +even sympathy in the parlor-car conductor's voice, as the other took his +seat check. + +"Health," said Madison meekly. "Perfect rest and quiet--been overdoing +it, you know." + +"_Needley_!"--the train conductor of the Bar Harbor Express, collecting +the transportation, threw the word at Madison as though it were a +personal affront. + +The tone seemed to demand an apology from Madison--and Madison +apologized. + +"Health," he said apologetically. "Perfect rest and quiet--been +overdoing it, you know." + +"We're five minutes late now," grunted the conductor uncompromisingly +and, to Madison, quite irrelevantly, as he passed on down the aisle. + +Somehow, this inspired Madison to consult his timetable. He drew it from +his pocket, ran his eye down the long list of stations--and stopped at +"Needley." Needley had an asterisk after it. By consulting a block of +small type at the bottom of the page, he found a corresponding asterisk +with the words: "Flag station. Stops only on signal, or to discharge +eastbound passengers from Portland." + +John Garfield Madison went into the smoking compartment of the car for a +cigar--several cigars--until Needley was reached some two hours later, +when the dusky attendant, as he pocketed Madison's dollar, set down his +little rubber-topped footstool with a flourish on a desolate and +forbidding-looking platform. + +Madison was neither surprised nor dismayed--the parlor-car conductor, +the train conductor and the timetable had in no way attempted to deceive +him--he was only cold. He turned up his coat collar--and blew on his +kid-gloved fingers. + +As far as he could see everything was white with a thin layer of +snow--he kicked some of it off his toes onto the unshovelled platform. +The landscape was disconsolately void of even a vestige of life, there +was not a sign of habitation--just woods of bare trees, except the firs, +whose green seemed out of place. + +"I have arrived," said John Garfield Madison to himself, "at a +cemetery." + +There was a very small station, and through the window he caught sight +of a harassed-faced, red-haired man. There was a thump, another one, a +very vicious one--and Madison stirred uneasily--the train, with its five +minutes' delinquency hanging over it, was already moving out, as his +trunks, from the baggage car ahead, shot unceremoniously to the +platform. Madison watched a man, the sole occupant of the platform apart +from himself, save the trunks from rolling under the wheels of the +train; then his eyes fastened on a rickety, two-seated wagon, drawn by a +horse that at first glance appeared to earn all it got. + +The train left the platform--and left quite as uninviting a perspective +on the other side of the track as had previously greeted Madison's +restricted view. But now the man who had salvaged his baggage came down +the platform toward him. Madison inspected the approaching figure with +interest. The man ambled along without haste, his jaws wagging +industriously upon his tobacco, his iron-gray chin whiskers, from the +wagging, flapping like a burgee in a breeze. He wore a round fur cap, +quite bare of fur at the edges where the pelt showed shiny, and a red +woollen tippet was tied round his neck and knotted at the back with the +ends dangling down over his coat. The coat itself, a long one of some +fuzzy material, with huge side pockets into which the man's hands were +plunged, reached to the cavernous tops of jackboots where the nether +ends of his trousers were stowed away. + +The man halted before Madison, and, reaching a mittened hand under his +chin, reflectively lifted his whiskers to an acute angle, while his blue +eyes over the rims of steel-bowed spectacles wandered from Madison to +Madison's dress-suit case and back to Madison again. + +"Be you goin' to git off here?" he inquired. + +Madison smiled at him engagingly. + +"Well," he said, "I wouldn't care to have it known, but if you can keep +a secret--" + +"Hee-hee!" tittered the other. "Now that's right smart, that be. Waren't +expectin' nobody to meet you, was you? I ain't heerd of none of the +folks lookin' for visitors." + +"No," said Madison. "But there's a hotel in the town, isn't there?" + +"Two of 'em," said the other. "The Waalderf an' the Congress, but the +Waalderf ain't done a sight of business since we got pro'bition in the +State an' has kinder got run down. I reckon the Congress'll suit you +best if you ain't against payin' a mite more, which I reckon you ain't +for I see you come down in the parler car." + +"And what," asked Madison, "does the Congress charge?" + +"Well," said the other, "ordinary, it's a dollar a day or five dollars a +week, but this bein' off season an' nobody there, 'twouldn't surprise me +if Walt'ud kind of shade the price for you--Waalderf's three an' a half +a week. Them your duds up the platform? I'll drive you over for forty +cents. What was it you said your name was?" + +"Forty cents is a most disinterested offer, and I accept it heartily," +said Madison affably. "And my name's Madison--John Garfield Madison, +from New York." + +"Mine's Higgins," volunteered the other. "Hiram Higgins, an' I'm +postmaster an' town constable of Needley. An' now, Mr. Madison, I +reckon we'll just get these effects of your'n onto the wagon an' move +along--folks'll be gettin' kinder rambunctious for their mail." + +Hiram Higgins backed the democrat around, roped the baggage onto the +tail-board, picked up the hungry-looking mail-bag from where the mail +clerk had slung it from the car to the platform, threw it down in front +of the dashboard, and got in after it. Madison clambered into the back +seat, and they bumped off along the road. + +"Had a mite of snow night before last," observed Mr. Higgins, pointing +it out with his whip, as he settled himself comfortably. "Kinder +reckoned we'd got rid of it for good till next fall till this come +along, but you can't never tell. What was it you said brought you down +here, Mr. Madison?" + +Madison smiled. + +"Rest and quiet--complete change," he said. "Nervous breakdown, +according to the doctors--that's what they always call it, you know, +when they can't find any other name for it. I've been overdoing it, I +suppose." + +"Be that so!" returned Mr. Higgins sympathetically. "I want to know! +Well, now, that's too bad! Lookin' for quiet, be you? Well, I reckon +mabbe folks don't scurry around here quite so lively as they do in some +of the bigger towns like Noo York, but there's a tolerable lot goin' on +most every week, church festivals, an' spellin' bees, an' such. Folks +here is right hospitable, but you ain't in no way obliged to join in if +you don't feel up to it. I'll explain matters to 'em, an'--" Hiram +Higgins stopped, excitedly gathered reins and whip into one hand, and +with the other smote his knee a resounding whack. "Well, I swan!" he +exclaimed. "An' I never thought of it until this minute! I reckon you've +come to just the right place, and just as soon as you get settled you go +right out an' see the Patriarch--you won't need no more doctor, an' +folks up your way won't know when you go back." + +"The Patriarch?" inquired Madison, with a puzzled air. "Who is he?" + +"Why," said Mr. Higgins, "he's--he's the Patriarch. Been curin' us folks +around here longer'n any one can remember--just does it by faith, too." + +Madison shook his head slowly. + +"I might just as well be frank with you, Mr. Higgins," he said. "I've +never taken much stock in faith cure and that sort of thing." + +"Mabbe," suggested Mr. Higgins deeply, "you ain't had much experience." + +"No," confessed Madison reflectively; "I haven't--I haven't had any." + +"Well then, you just wait an' see," said Mr. Higgins, waving his +mittened hand as though the whole matter were conclusively settled. "You +just wait an' see." + +"But I'm afraid I don't quite understand," prodded Madison innocently. +"What kind of cures does he perform?" + +They turned a right-angled bend in the road, disclosing a straggling +hamlet in a hollow below, and, farther away in the distance, a sweep of +ocean. + +"Most any kind," said Mr. Higgins. "There's Needley now. All you've got +to do is ask the first person you see about him." + +"Yes," said Madison, "but take yourself, for instance. Did this +Patriarch ever do anything for you?" + +"He did," said Mr. Higgins impressively. "An' 'twasn't but last week. +I'm glad you asked me. For two nights I couldn't sleep. Had the earache +powerful. Poured hot oil an' laud'num into it, an' kept a hot brick +rolled up in flannel against it, but didn't do no good. Then Mrs. +Higgins says, 'Hiram, why in the land's sake don't you go out an' see +the Patriarch?' An' I hitched right up, an' every step that horse took I +could feel it gettin' better, an' I wasn't five minutes with the +Patriarch before I was cured, an' I ain't had a twinge since." + +"It certainly looks as though there were something in that," admitted +Madison cautiously. + +Hiram Higgins smiled a world of tolerance. + +"'Tain't worth mentionin' alongside some of the things he's done," he +said deprecatingly. "You'll hear about 'em fast enough." + +"What's the local doctor say about it?" asked Madison. + +"There ain't enough pickin's to keep a doctor here, though some of 'em's +tried," chuckled Mr. Higgins. "Have to have 'em for _some_ things, of +course--an' then he drives over from Barton's Mills, seven miles from +here." + +"And do _all_ the people in Needley believe in the +Patriarch?"--Madison's voice was full of grave interest. + +"Well," said Mr. Higgins, "to be plumb downright honest with you, they +don't. Folks as was born here an' are old inhabitants do, but the +Holmes, bein' newcomers, is kinder set in their ways. They come down +here eight years ago last August with new-fangled notions, which they +ain't got rid of yet. You can see the consequences for yourself--got a +little boy, twelve year old, walking around lame on a crutch--an' I +reckon he always will. Doctor looks at him every time he comes over from +Barton's Mills, but it don't do no good. Folks tried to get the Holmes +to take him out to the Patriarch's till they got discouraged. 'Pears old +man Holmes kinder got around to a common sense view of it, but the women +folks say Mrs. Holmes is stubborner than all git-out, an' that old man +Holmes' voice ain't loud enough to be heerd when she gets goin'. 'Tain't +but fair to mention 'em, as I dunno of any one else that's an +exception." Mr. Higgins pointed ahead with his whip. "See them woods +over there beyond the town?" + +"Yes," said Madison. + +"That's where the Patriarch lives," said Mr. Higgins. "On the other side +of 'em, down by the seashore. An' here we be most home. Folks'll be +glad to see you, Mr. Madison, and now you're here I hope you'll make a +real smart stay--we'll try to make you feel to home." + +"Thank you," said Madison cordially. "I haven't any idea, of course, how +long I'll be here--it all depends on circumstances." + +"No," said Mr. Higgins; "I don't suppose you have. Anyway, I hope you'll +take a notion to go out an' see what the Patriarch can do for you. An' +now you ain't told me yet which hotel you're goin' to." + +"Oh!" said Madison gravely. "Well, since you recommend it, I guess we'd +better make it the Congress." + + + + +--IV-- + +THE PATRIARCH + + +"Bet you a cookie," shrilled Hiram Higgins, in what he meant to be a +breathless whisper, "that there's where he's goin' now--only he don't +want us to know he's give in." + +"Shet your fool mouth, Hiram!" cautioned Walt Perkins, the proprietor of +the Congress Hotel. "He kin hear you." + +"Get out!" retorted Mr. Higgins. "No, he can't neither. He ain't feelin' +no ways perky, any one can see that, an' I'm tickled most to pieces that +he's come 'round--I've took up with him consid'rable, I have. +Patriarch'll just make a new-born critter outer him--you watch through +the window where he goes. Bet you a quarter that's what he's up to!" + +John Garfield Madison, outside on the veranda of the Congress Hotel, +smiled at the words, as he lighted his cigar and turned up his coat +collar. He stepped off the veranda, crossed the little lawn to the +village street, and began to saunter nonchalantly and indifferently +oceanwards. He did not look around--he had no desire to bring +consternation to the massed faces of the leading citizens flattened +against the window panes--but he chuckled inwardly as he pictured them. +There would be Hiram Higgins, postmaster and town constable, Walt +Perkins, hotel man and town moderator, Lem Hodges, selectman, assessor +and overseer of the poor, Nathan Elmes, likewise selectman, assessor and +overseer of the poor, and Cale Rodgers, school committee-man and +proprietor of the general store. + +Madison sauntered slowly along. + +"I have arrived," he said, "not at a cemetery, but at an El Dorado and a +land flowing with milk and honey." + +There was a humorous pucker around the corners of Madison's eyes, as he +reviewed his two days' sojourn in Needley--spent mostly in the "office" +of the Congress Hotel beside the stove with his feet up on the wood-box. +He had never lacked company--the office stove and the spitbox filled +with sawdust was the admitted rendezvous of the chosen spirits who were +still gazing after him from the window. Morning, afternoon and evening +they congregated there, and he had been promptly admitted to membership +in the select circle. At each sitting they had discussed the spring +planting and the weather, and then inevitably, led by Hiram Higgins, had +resolved themselves into an "experience" meeting on the Patriarch--he, +Madison, as a minority leader of one, grudgingly conceding an occasional +point. The sessions had invariably ended the same way--Hiram Higgins, +with the back of his hand underneath his chin, would stroke earnestly +at his chin-whiskers, and remark: + +"Well, now, Mr. Madison, 'twon't do you a mite of harm to go out there +an' see for yourself. We've kinder got to look on you as one of us, an' +there ain't no use in you sufferin' around with what ails you when there +ain't no need of it." + +Madison's replies had been equally void of versatility--he would shake +his head doubtfully, while his cigar-case circulated around the group. + +Madison sniffed luxuriously at his thoroughbred Havana. He had passed +out of sight of the hotel window now, and he swung into a brisk walk. It +was a mile to the Patriarch's by a wagon track through the woods, that +led off from the road to the left just across the bridge. He had not +needed to ask directions. With magnificent inadvertence Hiram Higgins +had mentioned the exact way to reach the Patriarch's a dozen times, if +he had once. Also, by now, Madison had learned all that the town knew +about the Patriarch--which after all, he reflected with some +satisfaction, wasn't much. The Patriarch was over eighty years of age, +and he had come, deaf and dumb, to Needley sixty years ago--nobody knew +from where, nor his previous history, nor his name. They had called him +the Hermit at first, for immediately on his arrival he had gone out to +the shore of the ocean, away from the village, and built a crude hut +there for himself--which, in the after years, he had made into a more +pretentious dwelling. The cures had come "kinder gradual-like an' took +the folks mabbe forty years to get around to believin' in him real +serious," as Hiram Higgins put it; and then, as the Hermit grew old, and +the local reverence for him had become more deep-seated, they had +changed his name to the Patriarch. That was about all--but it seemed to +suit Madison, for his smile broadened. + +"I wonder," said he to himself, as he stepped onto the bridge to cross +the little river, "if I'm not dreaming--this is like being let loose in +the U.S. Treasury with nobody looking!" + +"Hullo, mister!" piped a young voice suddenly out of the dusk. + +"Hullo!" responded Madison mechanically--and turned to watch a small +figure, going in the opposite direction, thump by him on a crutch. +Madison stopped and stared after the cripple--and removed his cigar very +slowly from his lips. "That's that Holmes boy," he muttered. "I don't +know as he'd look well on the platform when the excursion trains get to +running. Wonder if I can't get a job for his father somewhere about a +thousand miles from here and have the family move!" + +The cripple disappeared down the road, and Madison, with a sort of +speculative flip to the ash of his cigar, resumed his way. Just across +the bridge he found the wagon track, and turned into it. It ran through +a thick wood of fir and spruce, and here, apart from now being able to +see but little before him--he had elected to "steal" away in the +darkness after supper--he found the going far from good. + +Half curiously, half whimsically, he tried to visualize the Patriarch +from the word pictures that had been painted around the stove in the +hotel office. The man would be old--of course. And to have lived alone +for sixty years, to have shunned human companionship he must have been +either mildly or violently insane to begin with, which would account for +his belief in himself as a healer--he would unquestionably, in some form +or other, "have bats in his belfry," as Pale Face Harry had put it. + +Madison's brows contracted as he went along. A man living by himself +under such conditions, with no incentive for the care of his person, not +even the pride engendered by the association of others, erudite as the +standard might be in his vicinity, was apt to grow very shortly into a +somewhat sorry spectacle. Give him sixty years of this and add an +unbalanced mind, and--Madison did not like the picture that now rose up +suddenly before him--a creature, bent, vapid of face, deaf and dumb, +frowsy of dress, and a world removed from the thought of a morning bath. +It might be picturesque in a way--but it wasn't a way Madison liked. +Somehow, he'd have to jerk the old chap out of his rut and get him +rigged up a little more becomingly, before the trusting public, simple +as they were, were invited down to see the exhibit. Madison's dramatic +instinct, which was developed to a keen sense of what the public craved +for, rebelled against any _faux pas_ in the scenic effects. He fell to +designing a costume that would more appropriately expound the role. + +"Got to give 'em something for their money," murmured John Garfield +Madison. "Some sort of long, flowing robe now, washed every day, sort of +Grecian effect with a rope girdle, bare feet and sandals--um-m--dunno +about the sandals--don't want to slop over, and besides"--Madison +grinned a little to himself--"he might kick!" + +Still reflecting, but arrived at no conclusion other than first to size +up the Patriarch and see how best to handle him, Madison reached the end +of the wagon track--and halted. + +It was a little lighter here, now that he had left the woods, and what +appeared to be a sweep of snow-covered lawn was before him. Around this, +forming a perfect square, was a row of full-grown, magnificent maples--a +regal hedge, as it were, bordering the four sides--planted sixty years +ago! Madison's imagination fired exhilarantly at the inspiring thought +of these in leaf--in another few weeks. He shook hands with himself +cordially. + +"Behold the amphitheater!" he said. "This is where we stage the greatest +act of the century!" + +Behind the row of trees, directly across the lawn in front of him, +loomed the dark shadow of a long, low, cottage-like building, and from a +window a light twinkled out between the tree trunks; while from beyond +again came the roll of surf, low, rhythmic, like the soft accompaniment +of orchestral music. + +"Wonderful!" breathed Madison. "I feel," said he, "as though I had just +had a drink!" + +He walked across the lawn, passed between the trees, and reached the end +of the cottage away from where the light showed in the window. + +"The Patriarch being deaf," he remarked, "I might as well explore." + +From the row of trees to the cottage was perhaps twenty feet. The door +of the cottage, porticoed with trellis-work, was in the center of the +cottage itself. Everywhere Madison turned were trellis-work frames for +flowers--the walls of the cottage were covered, literally covered, with +bare, slumbering shoots of Virginia creeper. In a little while now the +place would be a veritable paradise. Madison raised his hat reverently. + +"Fancy this on a New York stage!" said he esthetically, invoking the +universe. "Could you beat it! I could play the Patriarch myself with +this setting, and everybody would fall for it. There's nothing to it, +nothing to it, but his make-up--and I'll guarantee to take care of that. +And now we'll have a look at Aladdin's lamp and see just what kind of +rubbing up will invoke the genii!" + +Madison walked along the length of the cottage, past the door, and, as +he reached the lighted window, drew well away from the wall--and stared +inside. Surprise and incredulity swept across his features, and then his +face beamed and his gray eyes lighted with the fire of an artist who +sees the elusive imagery of the Great Picture at last transferred to +canvas, vivid, actual, transcending his wildest hopes. He was gazing +upon the sweetest and most venerable face he had ever seen. + +Here and there within upon the floor were strewn old-fashioned, round +rag mats that would enrapture a connoisseur, and the floor where it +showed between the mats was scrubbed to a glistening white. The +furnishings were few and homemade, but full of simple artistry--a chair +or two, and a table, upon which burned a lamp. In a fireplace, made of +stones cemented together, the natural effect unspoiled by any attempt to +hew the stones into uniformity, a log fire glowed, sputtered, and now +and then leaped cheerily into flame. + +Between the table and the fire, half turned toward Madison, sat the +Patriarch. He was reading, his head bent forward, his book held very +close to his eyes. Hair, a wealth of it, soft, silky and snow-white, +reached just below his coat collar--a silvery beard fell far below his +book. But it was the face itself, no single distinguishing feature, +neither the blue eyes, the sensitive lips, nor the broad, fine forehead, +that held Madison's gaze--it seemed to combine something that he had +never seen in a face before, and to look upon it was to be drawn +instantly to the man--there was purity of thought and act stamped upon +it with a seal ineffaceable, and there was gentleness there, and +sympathy, and trust, and a simple, unassuming dignity and +self-possession--and, too, there was a shadow there, a little of +sadness, a little of weariness, a background, a relief, as it were, a +touch such as a genius might conceive to lift the picture with his brush +into wondrous, lingering, haunting consonance. + +Madison's eyes, slowly, as though loath to leave the Patriarch's face, +travelled over the gray homespun suit that clothed the man, the white +wristbands of the home-washed shirt, unstarched, but spotlessly +clean--and his fancy of flowing, Grecian robes with rope girdles seemed +to hold him up to mockery as a crude and paltry bungler before the +perfect, unostentatious harmony of reality. + +"There's nothing to it!" whispered Madison softly to himself. "Nothing +to it! There isn't a thing left to do--not even a chance of making a +bluff at earning the money--it's just like _stealing_ it. Why, say, it +would get _me_ if I weren't behind the scenes--honest now, it would!" + +Madison drew back from the window and walked toward the door of the +cottage. + +"It should take me about fifteen minutes to establish myself on the +basis of a long-lost son with the Patriarch clinging confidingly around +my neck," he observed. "If it takes me any longer than that I'd feel +depressed every time I met myself in the looking-glass." + +He reached the cottage door, and, lifting the brass knocker that shone +dimly in the darkness, knocked once, lifted it to knock again--and his +hand fell away as he smiled a little foolishly. + +"I forgot the Patriarch was deaf," he muttered. "Wonder what you're +supposed to do? Walk right in, or--" + +The door swung suddenly wide open, and upon Madison's face, usually so +perfectly at its owner's control, came a look of stunned surprise. The +Patriarch was standing on the threshold, and, with a gesture of welcome, +was motioning him to enter. + + + + +--V-- + +A STRANGE CONVERSATION + + +Madison, quite in command of himself again in an instant, stepped, +smiling, into the cottage. He took the Patriarch's extended hand in a +cordial grip and nodded understandingly as the other, with quick, rapid +motions, touched lips and ears to signify that he could neither hear nor +speak. But, inwardly puzzled, Madison searched the Patriarch's face--was +the other playing a part? Could he _hear_, after all--and perhaps speak +as well, if he wanted to! There was certainly no guile in the venerable, +gentle face--or was it guile of a very high order? + +The Patriarch closed the door, and drawing his own armchair to the table +offered it to Madison with a courteous smile. + +Madison refused by gently forcing the old man into it himself, pulled +another up to face the Patriarch, sat down--and his eyes fixed suddenly +on the ceiling above his head. Swaying slowly back and forth was a sort +of miniature punkah of waving white canvas. He studied this for a +moment, then his eyes shifted to the Patriarch, who was regarding him +humorously. + +The Patriarch rose from his chair, walked to the door, opened it, moved +the knocker up and down--and pointed to the ceiling. The canvas was +waving violently now, and Madison traced the cord attachment, on little +pulleys, across the ceiling to where it ran through the door and was +affixed to the knocker without. It was very simple, even +primitive--every time the knocker was lifted the cord was pulled and the +canvas waved back and forth. Madison nodded his head and smiled +approvingly, as the Patriarch once more closed the door and resumed his +seat. + +Madison leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to stray, not +impertinently but with pleased endorsement, around the room, to permit +an unhampered opportunity for the scrutiny of the blue eyes which he +felt upon him. + +"And to think," he mused reproachfully, "that I could have doubted him +for a single instant--he certainly hung one on me that time." + +The Patriarch reached into the drawer of the table beside him, took out +a slate and pencil, scratched a few words on the slate and handed both +pencil and slate to Madison. + +"Your name is Madison, isn't it?" Madison read. "From New York? Hiram +told me about you." + +"Hiram," said Madison to himself, "is a man of many parts, and the most +useful man I have ever known. Hiram, by reflected glory, will some day +become famous." On the slate he replied: "Yes; that is my name--John +Madison. It was good of Mr. Higgins to speak of me." + +The Patriarch held the slate within a bare inch or two of his face, and +moved it back and forth before his eyes to follow the lines. As he +lowered it, Madison reached for it politely. + +"I am afraid you do not see very well," he scribbled. "Shall I write +larger?" + +Again the Patriarch deciphered the words laboriously; then he wrote, and +handed the slate to Madison. + +"I am going blind," he had written. "Please write as large as possible." + +"Blind!"--Madison's attitude and expression were eloquent enough not +only to be a perfect interpretation of his exclamation, but to convey +his shocked and pained surprise as well. + +The Patriarch bowed his head affirmatively, smiling a little wistfully. + +Madison impetuously drew his chair closer to the other, laid his hand +sympathetically upon the Patriarch's sleeve, and, with the slate upon +his knee, wrote with the other hand impulsively: + +"I am sorry--very, very sorry. Would you care to tell me about it?" + +The Patriarch's face lighted up while reading the slate, but he shook +his head slowly as he smiled again. + +"By _and_ by, if you wish," he wrote. "But first about yourself. You are +sick--and you have come to me for help?" + +The slate now passed from hand to hand quite rapidly. + +"Yes," wrote Madison. "Can you cure me?" + +"No," replied the Patriarch; "not in your present mental condition." + +"What do you mean?" asked Madison. + +"Your question itself implies that you are skeptical. While that state +of mind exists, I can do nothing--it depends entirely on yourself." + +"And if I put skepticism aside?" Madison's pencil demanded. "Can you +cure me then?" + +"Unquestionably," wrote the Patriarch, "if you really put it aside. +Faith is the simplest thing in the world and the most complex--but it is +fundamental. Without faith nothing is possible; with faith nothing is +impossible." + +Madison's gray eyes rested, magnificently thoughtful and troubled, upon +the Patriarch. + +"I have never thought much about it," he replied upon the slate, after a +tactful moment's pause. "But I believe that. There is something here, +about the place, about you that inspires confidence--I was prepared to +cling to my skepticism when I came in, but I do not feel that way now. +If only I knew you a little better, were with you a little more, I +believe I could have the faith you speak of." + +"How long do you remain in Needley?" the Patriarch wrote. + +Madison got up from his chair, went slowly to the fireplace, and, with +his back to the Patriarch, stood watching the crackling logs. + +"The old chap's no fool," he informed himself, "even if he is gone a +little in one particular. He certainly does believe in himself for fair! +Wonder where he got his education--notice the English he writes? And, +say--_going blind_! Fancy that! Santa Claus, you overwhelm me, you are +too bountiful, you are too generous--you'll have nothing left for the +next chimney! Deaf and dumb--and blind. Really, I do not deserve this--I +really don't--let me at least tip the hat-boy, or I'll feel mean." + +He turned gravely to the Patriarch; resuming his chair with an +expression on his face as one arrived at a weighty decision after a +mental battle with one's self. + +"I will stay here until I am cured. I put myself in your hands. What am +I to do?" he wrote quickly--and held out his hand almost anxiously for +the other's assent. + +The Patriarch smiled seriously as, after peering at the slate, he took +the outstretched hand and laid his other one unaffectedly upon Madison's +shoulder. + +"Be sure then that I can help you," wrote the Patriarch cheerfully. +"There is no course of treatment such as you may, perhaps, imagine. My +power lies in a perfect faith to help you once you, in turn, have faith +yourself--that is all. It is but the practical application of the old +dogma that mind is superior to matter. You must come and see me every +day, and we will talk together." + +"I will come--gladly," Madison replied; and, taking the slate, carefully +wiped off the writing--as he had previously wiped it off every time it +came into his hands--with a damp rag that the Patriarch had taken from +the table drawer when he had produced the slate and pencil. + +"This slate racket is the limit," said Madison to himself, as his pencil +began to move and screech again; "but I've got to get a little deeper +under his vest yet." + +He handed the slate to the Patriarch, and on it were the words: + +"Won't you tell me something of yourself, how you came to live here +alone, and your name, perhaps? I do not mean to presume, but I am deeply +interested." + +"There is never presumption in kindliness and sympathy," answered the +Patriarch. "But my name and story is buried in the past--perhaps when I +am gone those who care to know may know. I have not hurt you by refusing +to answer?" + +"No, indeed!" said Madison politely to himself. "The element of mystery +is one of the best drawing cards I know--it's got Needley going strong. +Far, far be it from me to tear the veil asunder. I mentioned it only as +a feeler." + +But upon the slate he wrote: + +"Far from being hurt, I respect your silence. But your eyes--you were to +tell me about them." + +The Patriarch's face saddened suddenly as he read the words. + +"I have made no secret of it," he wrote. "I have been going blind for +nearly a year now. The end, I am afraid, is very near--within a few +days, perhaps even to-morrow. I think I should not mind it much myself, +for I am very old and have not a great while longer to live in any case, +but for the time that is left it will mar my usefulness. I have been +able to help the people here and they have come to depend upon me--that +is my life. I trust I am not boastful if I say my greatest joy has been +in helping others." + +He had come to the bottom of the slate and held it out for Madison to +read; then wiped it off, and went on: + +"I have dreamed often of a wider field, of reaching out to help the +thousands beyond this little town--but I have realized that it could be +no more than a dream. I have been successful here because the people +believe in me and have unquestioning faith in me--to go outside amongst +strangers would only have been to be received as a charlatan and faker, +or as a poor deaf and dumb fool at best." + +Madison took the slate. + +"But if these thousands of others came to you--what then?" + +The Patriarch's face glowed. + +"It would be a wondrous joy," he wrote. "Too wondrous to dwell +upon--because it could never be. If they came I could help them, for +their very coming would be an evidence of faith--and faith alone is +necessary. Think of the joy of helping so many others--it is the fulness +of life. But let us not dream any more, friend Madison." + +"Of course," communed Madison, studying the illumined face, "he's +slightly touched in his upper story on the faith stunt; but he's in dead +earnest, and he's got the brotherhood-of-man bug bad. Come to think of +it, Hiram did say something about his 'sight failing,' but I didn't +think it was anything like this. If he's going to go finally blind in, +say, a week, perhaps it would be just as well to postpone the opening +night until he does." + +Madison took the slate. + +"Stranger things than that have happened," he wrote. "I never heard of +you before, yet I am one of the thousands beyond this little town and I +am here--why not the others?" + +The Patriarch shook his head sadly. + +"It is but a dream," he wrote. + +Madison held the slate in his hands for quite a long time before he +wrote again; his attitude one of sympathetic hesitancy as his eyes +played over the form and face before him, while the Patriarch smiled at +him with gentle, patient resignation. Back in Madison's fertile brain +the germ of an inspiration was developing into fuller life. + +"What will you do here alone when you are blind?" he asked--and his face +was disturbed and solicitous as he passed the Patriarch the slate. + +"I need very little," the Patriarch wrote back. "You must not worry +about me. My garden supplies nearly all my wants, and there are many in +the village, I am sure, who will help me with that when the snow is +gone." + +"I am quite certain of that," Madison's pencil agreed. "But here in the +house you cannot be alone--there are so many things to do, little things +that I am sure you have not thought of--some one must cook for you, for +instance. You will need a woman's hand here--have you no one, no +relative that you can call upon?" + +The Patriarch lowered the slate from his eyes, shook his head a little +pathetically, and began to write. + +"I do not think they would have cared to come, even if they were still +alive; but they are all gone many years ago--except perhaps a +grand-niece, and I do not know what has become of her." + +"Why, that's just the thing," wrote Madison. "Suppose we try to find +her?" + +Again the Patriarch shook his head. + +"I am afraid that would be impossible. I do not even know that she is +alive. I know only of her birth, and that is twenty years ago." + +"Even that is not hopeless," wrote Madison optimistically, and his face +as he looked at the Patriarch was seriously thoughtful. "Where was she +born?" + +"New York," the Patriarch answered. + +"And I never half appreciated the old town nor the fulness thereof until +I came to Needley!" said Madison plaintively to the toe of his boot, +while his hand scrawled the inquiry: "What is her name?" + +"Vail," wrote the Patriarch. "That was her father's name. She is my +grand-niece on her mother's side. I do not know what they christened +her." + +Madison once more, apparently deep in thought, sought refuge at the +fireplace, his hands plunged in his pockets, his shoulders drawn a +little forward, his back to the Patriarch. + +"Fiction," he assured a crack in the cement between two stones, "was +never, never like this. It seems to me that I remember the occurrence. +It had grown a little dim with the lapse of time, it is true; but now +that I recall it, it comes back with remarkable clearness. I am quite +sure they christened her--Helena. Helena Vail! Now isn't that a +perfectly lovely name for a novel! And she'll be so good to the dear old +chap too--washing and ironing and cooking for him--and stealing out into +the woodshed for a drag on her cigarette--_not_. No, my dear, not even +that--this is serious business." + +He turned, came back to his chair, picked up the slate, and wrote: + +"I have the fortune, or misfortune perhaps, to be what is commonly +called a rich man. Money, they say, will do anything, and if it will +I'll find this niece for you." + +The Patriarch's eyes grew moist as he read the words, and his hand +trembled a little with emotion as he held the pencil. + +"I cannot let you do that," he protested. "You are very kind, and it +seems almost as though you had been brought to me providentially at the +end of long years of loneliness for a purpose, when my hour of +helplessness was near; but, indeed, I have no right to allow you to do +this." + +"They tell me in the village," wrote Madison in reply, "that you have +always refused to accept a penny for anything you have ever done for +them. I have no doubt you would equally refuse to accept anything from +me for what you may do, and I should hesitate to offer it however much I +felt indebted, but this is something that you must let me do. It will +make me feel more--how shall I say it?--more as though I had a right to +the privilege of coming here." + +The Patriarch wiped his still moist eyes before he answered. + +"What can I say to you? It does not seem right that I should let a +stranger do so much, and yet it seems that I should not say no +because--" + +Madison was bending over the slate, reading as the other wrote, and he +took the pencil gently from the Patriarch's hand. + +"You must not look on me any longer as a stranger," he wrote. "Let us +just consider that it is all arranged--only I would strongly advise +making no mention of it until we make sure that she is alive." + +"I think nothing should be said," agreed the Patriarch. "For even if you +found her she might not care to come--I have little here to offer a +young girl--few comforts--the care of a blind man who is deaf and dumb." + +"We'll see about that when we find her"--Madison smiled brightly at the +Patriarch, as he wrote. "Now that's settled for the time being, isn't +it?" + +The dumb lips moved and both hands reached out to Madison. + +Madison took them in a firm, strong, reassuring clasp, then shook his +finger in a sort of playfully emotional embarrassment, excellently well +done, at the Patriarch--and picked up the slate again. + +"It is getting late," he wrote, "and I must not tire you out. I am +afraid you will think I am far more inquisitive than I have any right to +be, but there is one more question that I would like to ask--may I?" + +The Patriarch nodded his head, and laid his hand on Madison's sleeve in +a quaint, almost affectionate way. + +"It is about your education. You came here sixty years ago, and you have +lived alone. You could have had but few advantages, with your handicap, +previous to that, and yet you write and use such perfect English." + +"The answer is very simple," replied the Patriarch on the slate. "Until +within the last year, I have read largely. Would you care to look at my +books? They are there in the nook on the other side of the fireplace." + +Madison, promptly and full of interest, rose from his chair, passed +around the fireplace, and halted before a row of shelves set in against +the wall. + +"I pass," Madison admitted to himself after a moment, during which his +eyes roved over the well chosen classics. "I've heard of one or two of +these before--casually. I've an idea that if the Patriarch's got all +this inside his gray matter, it's just as well for the Flopper, for Pale +Face Harry, for Helena and yours truly that he's deaf and dumb--and will +be blind." + +Madison came back to the Patriarch with beaming face, and picked up the +slate. + +"I read a great deal myself," he wrote. "It is a pleasure to find _real_ +books here. May I, during my stay in Needley, look upon them in a little +way as my own library?" + +"You are very welcome indeed," the Patriarch answered. + +"Thank you," wrote Madison. "And now, surely, I must go"--he smiled at +the Patriarch. + +"Come to-morrow," invited the Patriarch. "I would like to show you all +around my little place here." + +"Indeed, I will," Madison scratched upon the slate, "and do you know +that somehow, since I came here to-night, I feel a sense of relief, a +sort of guarantee that everything is going to be all right with me in +the future." + +The Patriarch smiled quietly, almost tolerantly. + +"I know that," he wrote. "Keep your mind free of doubt, be optimistic +and cheerful as regards yourself, nourish the faith that has already +taken root and that I feel responds to mine; keep in the open air and +take plenty of exercise." + +Slowly, with an apparently abstracted air, Madison read the slate, +wiped it carefully, laid it down, and then held out his hand. + +"Good-night!" he nodded warmly. + +The Patriarch, still with the quiet smile upon his lips, rose from his +armchair, and, keeping his clasp on Madison's hand, led Madison to the +door, opened it, and with a gesture at once courtly and affectionate +bade his guest good-night. + +Madison crossed the lawn at a thoughtful pace, turned into the wagon +track, and, in the shelter of the woods now, whimsically felt his pulse; +then, lighting a cigar, tramped on with a buoyant stride. + +"There's only one answer, of course," he mused. "The Patriarch's got a +brain kink on faith--it's the natural outcome of living alone for sixty +years. Outside of that and his books, he's as simple and innocent and +trusting as a babe. I suppose the thing's kind of grown on him--Hiram +said it had taken forty years--which isn't sudden unless you say it +quick. Hanged if I don't like the old sport though, and if Helena isn't +the best ever to him I'll stop her chewing gum allowance." Madison +looked up through the arched, leafless branches overhead. "Beautiful +night, isn't it?" said he pleasantly. + +A little later he reached the main road and paused a moment on the +bridge, as though to sum up the thoughts and imaginings that had +occupied him on the way along. + +"It's a queer world," said John Garfield Madison profoundly to the +turbid little stream that flowed beneath his feet. "I wonder why some +of us are born with brains--and some are born just plain damned fools!" + +He went on again, arrived at the Congress Hotel, and, discovering +through the window that the leading citizens of Needley were still in +session, negotiated the back entrance. On the way upstairs he +stumbled--quite inadvertently--and stopped to listen. + +"There he be now," announced Hiram Higgins' voice excitedly. "Goin' up +to his room to meditate. Knew he'd come back feelin' like that. I be +goin' out there to-morrow to see the Patriarch myself." + +Madison smiled, mounted the remaining stairs, entered his room, and +lighted his lamp. + +"Having got my hand in at writing," he remarked, "I guess I'd better +keep it up and write Helena--Vail." + +He extracted a pad of writing paper and an envelope from the tray of his +trunk, his fountain pen from his pocket, and, drawing his chair to the +table and laying down his cigar reluctantly at his elbow, began to +write. At the end of fifteen minutes, he tilted back his chair, +relighted the stub of his cigar, and critically read over his epistle. + +"Dear Kid," it ran. "Do not be anxious about me--I am feeling better +already. Have had my first treatment, and am now eating fried eggs and +ham regularly three times a day. A Sunday-school picnic taking to +washboilers full of thin coffee and the left-over cakes kindly +contributed by Deacon Jones' household, is nothing to the way the boobs +will take to the Patriarch--who has kindly consented to go blind to make +our thorny paths as smooth as possible for us. + +"Do you get that, Helena--he's going blind! In just a few days, my dear, +you will be with me, have patience. The meteorological bureau is a +little hazy yet on the exact date of the total eclipse, but it's due to +happen any minute. Now listen. Your name is Helena Vail. You're the +Patriarch's grand-niece, and you're coming to live alone with him and +soothe his declining years; but you can't come yet because I've got to +find you first, and besides, until he's blind, he'll stick to a nasty +habit he's got of asking questions on his little slate. You needn't have +any hesitation about coming on the score of propriety, I assure you it +is perfectly proper--he is running Methuselah pretty near a dead heat. +And, as far as the town is concerned, apart from the fact that you are a +grand-niece, orphaned, you don't have to know anything about yourself, +either--that's part of the Patriarch's dark, mysterious past, where the +lights go out and the fiddles get rickets. + +"That's about all. I'll let you know when to come. Remember me to Mr. +Coogan and Harry, and keep my picture under your pillow. Ever thine, +J.G.M." + +Madison picked up his pen again and added another line: + +"P.S. Better buy a cook-book." + +He folded the pages, inserted them in the envelope, sealed the envelope +and addressed it to Miss Helena Smith--street and number not far from +the tenderloin district of New York. + +Then Madison yawned pleasantly, tucked the letter in his pocket--and +prepared for bed. + + + + +--VI-- + +OFFICIALLY ENDORSED + + +Ten days had passed, bringing with them many changes. The snow was gone, +and the warm, balmy airs of springtime had brought the buds upon the +trees almost to leaf. It seemed indeed a new land, and one now full of +charm and delight--the desolate, straggling hamlet, once so barren, +frozen and hopeless looking, was now a quaint, alluring little village +nestling picturesquely in its hollow, framed in green fields and +majestic woods. Quiet, restful, peaceful it was--like a dream place, +untroubled. Upon the farms about men plowed their furrows, calling to +each other and to their horses; in the homes the doors and windows were +thrown hospitably wide to the sweet, fresh, vernal airs, and the thrifty +housewives were busy at their cleaning. + +And there had been other changes, too. The ten days had found Madison +more and more a constant visitor, and finally a most intimate one, at +the Patriarch's cottage--while to the circle in the hotel office his +voice no longer rose in even feeble protest, he was one of them. And, +perhaps most vital change of all, the Patriarch was nearly blind--so +nearly blind that conversation now was limited to but little more than +a single word at a time upon the slate. + +It was morning, in the Patriarch's sitting-room, and Madison was seated +in his usual place beside the table facing the other. For upwards of an +hour, it had taken him that long, he had been engaged, having decided +that the time was ripe, in telling the Patriarch that his grand-niece +had been found and that now it was only necessary to write and ask her +to come to Needley. + +The Patriarch's fine old face was aglow with pleasure as he finally +understood. Letter writing was beyond him now, a thing of the past, so +upon the slate he scrawled: + +"You write." + +Madison shook his head; and again with gentle patience explained that +perhaps it would be better if the letter came from some one holding an +official position in the village, rather than from one who, even in an +abstract way, would be unknown to her--the postmaster, for instance. + +And the Patriarch, patting Madison's sleeve gratefully, agreed. + +Out in the garden behind the cottage, where for the first time in sixty +seasons the work must be done by other hands, Hiram Higgins, the +volunteer for the moment, was busy at his "spell." + +Madison stepped to the door and called him in. + +"Mr. Higgins," he said, "the Patriarch has just told me that he has a +grand-niece living in New York, and he wants you to write to her and ask +her to come to him." + +"Be that so!" exclaimed Mr. Higgins, gazing earnestly at the Patriarch. +"Well, 'tain't no surprise to me--always calc'lated he must have folks +somewheres. An' I'm right glad now he needs 'em he's made up his mind to +have 'em come. Wants me to write, does he?" + +"He can't write any more himself," said Madison. "He seems to think that +you, as the postmaster, as well as the town police official, are the +proper person to do it--and I quite agree with him." + +"So I be," declared Mr. Higgins importantly. "I'll write it on the town +paper, an' comin' from the postmaster there won't be no doubt in her +mind that it's any of them bunco games or the lurin' of young women away +such as I've read about, for I reckon perhaps she ain't never heerd of +him before--never knew _him_ to write a letter, an' I calc'late to see +most everything that goes out." + +Mr. Higgins picked up the slate and wrote the word "grand-niece?" upon +it in enormous characters; then, amplifying his interrogation by many +gestures of his hands, deft from long practice, he held the slate up to +the Patriarch. + +The Patriarch nodded, and Hiram Higgins nodded back encouragingly. + +"Where be her address?" Mr. Higgins inquired of Madison. + +Madison stepped to the bookshelves out of view of the Patriarch around +the fireplace, but in full view of Mr. Higgins, and, reaching down the +Bible from the topmost shelf, extracted from inside its cover the aged, +yellow slip of paper that he had deposited there when he had entered the +cottage that morning, and on which was inscribed Helena's name and +address in a stiff, old-fashioned, angular hand resembling the +Patriarch's--an effect that Madison had stayed up half the night to +produce. + +"I guess this must be it," he said. "He said it was here--we'll make +sure though"--and he handed it to the Patriarch. + +Long and painfully the Patriarch studied it, anxiously deciphering the +words that he had never seen before, anxious to know all and whatever +this might tell him about his niece--then again he nodded his head and +expressed his gratitude by, patting Madison's sleeve. + +Madison's smile modestly disavowed any thanks, as he passed the slip to +Mr. Higgins. + +"Reckon that be it," Mr. Higgins agreed. "An' now, I guess I'll go right +back to town an' write it--I allow that the sooner we get her down here +the better. Folks'll be glad to hear this--the women folks was figurin' +on takin' spells an' helpin' out in the house same as the men in the +garden--'pears now there won't be no need of it." + +Madison accompanied Mr. Higgins outside and helped him to harness up. + +"Look here, Mr. Madison," said Hiram Higgins, as he made ready to go and +climbed into the democrat, "would you allow that the Patriarch's goin' +blind was goin' to interfere any with his power of curin' folks? It'll +be a powerful blow to the town if it does." + +"Why, of course not!" said Madison decisively. "Certainly not! Indeed, I +wouldn't be surprised if it enhanced his power--it's purely mental, you +know. They say that the loss of any one or more of the senses generally +tends to make the others only the more acute--it's the--er--law of +compensation." + +"Glad to hear you say so," said Mr. Higgins, with a sigh of relief, +"'cause I got another letter to write 'sides this one for the Patriarch. +It come last night, an' I was figurin' on speakin' to you about it." Mr. +Higgins dropped the reins on the dashboard, and dove into first one +pocket and then another. "Shucks!" said he disgustedly. "Now if I ain't +gone an' left it to home after all. But I dunno as it makes much +difference. It was from a fellow up your way by the name of Michael +Coogan, an' was addressed to the postmaster. 'Pears he read a piece in +the papers about the Patriarch which he sent along with the letter. +Allows he's been ailin' quite a spell, though he don't say what's the +matter with him, an' wants to know if what's in that piece is all gospel +truth, 'cause if 'tis he's comin' down. That's why I'm right glad to +have heerd you say what you just said. Bein' postmaster an' writin' +'fficially, I got to be conscientious and pretty partic'lar." + +"Yes, of course--naturally," said Madison. "And what are you going to +say to him?" "Why," returned Mr. Higgins, "there ain't no trouble about +it now. Goin' to tell him that if the Patriarch can't help him there +ain't nobody on earth can--thought of mentionin' your name, too." + +"By all means," assented Madison cordially. "I feel like a new man since +I've come here. I only wish more people knew about the Patriarch--it +makes your heart ache to think of the suffering and sickness that people +endure so hopelessly when there isn't any need of it." + +"Yes, so it do," said Mr. Higgins. He picked up the reins. "So it do," +he said heartily. + +Madison watched the democrat as it started off behind the ambling +horse--watched with a sort of fascination at the inebriate, sideways +stagger of the wheels, a sort of wonder that the rear ones didn't shut +up like a jack-knife under the body of the vehicle and the democrat +promptly sit down on its tail-board; then, smiling, he walked back into +the cottage. The Patriarch was still sitting in the armchair beside the +table. Madison halted before the other. + +"Well," said he confidentially to the Patriarch, "that's settled and I +don't mind admitting that it's a load off my mind. I hate to think of +what we'd have done without Hiram Higgins--in fact, it distresses me to +think of it. Let us think of something else. Day after to-morrow +Helena'll be along. Helena is the one and only--but you'll find that out +for yourself. I don't mind telling you though that she wears a number +two shoe, and you can guess the rest without any help from me. Then a +day or so later the Flopper and Pale Face Harry'll be along--you'll +enjoy them--things aren't going to be a bit slow from now on. I expect +the Flopper will bring some friends with him, too, so's to make a nice +little house-party--I wrote him about it, and--" Madison stopped +abruptly. + +The Patriarch, evidently catching a movement of Madison's lips, was +gesticulating violently toward his ears, while he smiled half +tolerantly, half protestingly. + +Madison nodded quickly and smiled deprecatingly in return. + +"By Jove!" he said apologetically. "I always keep forgetting that you +can't hear. I was suggesting that perhaps you might like to go for a +walk--Mr. Higgins says it's a fine day." Madison picked up the slate and +in huge letters that sprawled from one end of the slate to the other +wrote the word: "WALK?" + +The Patriarch rose from his chair with a pleased expression, and Madison +helped him solicitously to the door. + +They passed out into the sunshine and headed for the beach--the +Patriarch, erect and strong, guiding himself with his hand on Madison's +arm. + +Reaching the beach, the Patriarch paused and turned his face toward the +ocean, while he drew in great breaths of the invigorating air--and +Madison involuntarily stepped a little aside to look at the other +critically, as one might seek a vantage ground from which to view a +picture in all its variant lights and shades. Against the crested, +breaking surf, the fume-sprayed ledges of rock, the Patriarch stood out +a majestic, almost saintly figure--tall, stately, grand with the true +grandeur of simplicity, simple in dress, simple in attitude and mien, +patience, sweetness and trust illumining his face, his silver-crowned +head thrown back. + +"I can shut my eyes," said Madison softly, "and see the Flopper being +cured right now--and the Flopper couldn't help it if he wanted to!" + + + + +--VII-- + +THE PATRIARCH'S GRAND-NIECE + + +It was Hiram Higgins who introduced Helena Vail to Madison, two days +later. Madison had led the Patriarch outside the door of the cottage as +the sound of wheels announced the expected arrival, and was waiting for +her as Mr. Higgins drove up in the democrat. Helena, marvelously garbed, +in the extreme of fashion, was demurely surveying her surroundings; +while Mr. Higgins was very evidently excited and not a little flustered. +A huge trunk and two smaller ones occupied the rear of the democrat, +with the dismantled back seat lashed on top of them. + +Madison, leaving the Patriarch, hastened forward politely. + +"Mr. Madison," said Hiram Higgins importantly, "this be the Patriarch's +grand-niece come to stay with him." + +From under a picture hat, Helena's eyes smiled down at Madison. + +"Oh, I am so glad to meet you, Mr. Madison," she said cordially. "Mr. +Higgins has been telling me about you, and how good you have been to +my--my grand-uncle." + +"You are very kind to say so, Miss Vail," responded Madison modestly. +"May I help you down?" + +She gave him a daintily gloved hand, exposed a daintily stockinged ankle +as she placed her foot a little hesitantly on the wheel, and jumped +lightly to the ground. + +"That," she said quickly and a little anxiously for Mr. Higgins' ears, +indicating the Patriarch, "that is my grand-uncle there, I am sure." + +"Yes," said Madison, leading her toward the Patriarch. "And he has been +looking forward very anxiously all day to your arrival--it seemed as +though the afternoon would never come for him." + +"Gee!" said Helena under her breath. "I had the rubes in the village on +the run--you ought to have seen them stare as the chariot drove along." + +"I don't wonder," said Madison softly. "The sun's rather strong down +here, Helena, and if you're not careful you'll scorch your neck with +those burning-glasses you've got in your ears." + +"Don't I look nice?" demanded Helena, with a pout. + +"You bet you do!" said Madison earnestly. "You've got the swellest thing +on Broadway beaten from Forty-Second Street to the Battery. Now, here +you are"--they had halted before the Patriarch. + +The venerable face was turned toward them, as though by instinct the +Patriarch knew that they were there--and his hands were held out in +greeting. + +Helena clasped them firmly, and submitted sweetly as the Patriarch drew +her into his arms. + +The Patriarch released her after an instant, and his hands, in lieu of +eyes, reaching out to search her face, came bewilderingly in contact +with the picture hat. + +Helena, a little uncertainly, looked at Madison. + +"Is he _all_ blind?" she whispered. + +"Quite blind," said Madison sadly. + +Helena's face clouded a little, and into the brown eyes crept a strange, +sudden, sympathetic look. + +"Doc," she said, "it--it isn't fair. It's a shame--he can't fight back." + +"One error to you, Miss Vail," said Madison pleasantly. "Eliminate the +'Doc.' Don't shed tears, you're down here to be sweet to him, aren't +you--well, get into the game." + +Helena turned from Madison, and, impulsively taking the Patriarch's +groping hands, guided them to her cheeks and held them there. + +"Lucky dog!" observed Madison; then, raising his voice: "I am sure you +would like to be alone together, Miss Vail--perhaps you will take him +into the cottage. If you will excuse me, I'll help Mr. Higgins with the +trunks." + +Madison turned and walked over to where Mr. Higgins, beside the democrat +with a handful of chin whiskers, was observing the scene. + +"Fine girl!" declared Mr. Higgins, as Helena, with the Patriarch's arm +in hers, disappeared inside the cottage. "'Pears she must have money, +an' I'm right glad 'count of the Patriarch--said her father an' mother +was dead an' she was alone in the world--them jewels she wore must have +cost a pile. Reckon she's been used to livin' kinder different from the +way folks down here do--hope 'tain't goin' to be so hard on her she +won't want to stay." + +"I was thinking about that myself," said Madison gravely, knotting his +brows as he nodded his head. "There's no doubt it will be a big change +for her, but I imagine she had some sort of an idea what to expect--it +is certainly greatly to her credit that she would give up her own +interests unselfishly and come here to devote her life to the care of a +relative whom she had never seen before. I've an idea that the girl who +would do that is the kind of a girl who's got grit enough to see it +through." + +"So she be," said Mr. Higgins heartily. "Ain't every one 'ud do it--not +by a heap!" + +"I'll give you a hand with the trunks," said Madison thoughtfully. + +They carried the large trunk between them into the cottage and, as +Helena called to them, down the little hallway past what Madison knew to +be the Patriarch's bedroom, and stopped before the next door, which was +open. Madison remembered the room, when nearly two weeks ago now the +Patriarch had shown him through the cottage, as a sort of store-room +full of odds and ends. Mr. Higgins, too, evidently had known it only in +that guise, for he whistled softly and reached for his whiskers. + +"Well now, if that ain't right smart of the Patriarch!" he exclaimed. +"Real set he must have been on makin' you feel to home, Miss Vail--an' +never said a word to no one, neither." + +"Yes," said Helena, "isn't it pretty? And did he really fix this up for +me all by himself?"--she was looking at Madison, as she stood in the +center of the room beside the Patriarch. + +"Must have," said Madison, surveying the room. + +It wasn't luxurious, the little chamber, nor was there over much of +furniture, nor was that even of a high order--there was a bed with a +red-checkered crazy-quilt; a washstand with severe, heavy white +crockery; a rocking chair, homemade, of hickory; a rag mat, round, +many-colored; and white muslin curtains on the windows. It wasn't +luxurious, the little chamber--it was fresh and sweet and clean. + +Upon the Patriarch's face was a sort of pleased expectancy, and Helena +promptly took his arm and pressed it affectionately. + +"Isn't it perfectly dear of him!" she said softly. "To think of him +going to all this trouble for me when he could scarcely see!" + +"Well, 'tain't no more'n you deserve," said Mr. Higgins gallantly, as he +slewed the trunk around against the wall. "I'll lug them other trunks +in myself, ain't but small ones, they ain't"--and he hurried from the +room, as though fearful that Madison might secure a share in the honors. + +"I guess you've made a hit with Mr. Higgins, Helena," observed Madison, +with a grin. + +"Have I?" returned Helena absently; then abruptly: "This is a real nice +lay you've steered me into, John Madison." + +"Yes; not bad," said Madison complacently. "Bring your uncle into the +front room, Helena; and then you can get Hiram to show you the well and +the old oaken bucket and where the pantries and cupboards are, he knows +more about them than I do--it's pretty near time for you to be thinking +about getting supper." + +"Are you going to stay for it?" inquired Helena pertly. + +"For the first attempt!" ejaculated Madison, with a wry face. "Good +Heavens, no! I'm just convalescing from a serious illness." + +In the front room Madison settled himself to a study of the Patriarch's +beaming, happy face, while Helena under Mr. Higgins' attentive guidance +explored the cottage. + +"D'ye know, old chap," he said, and leaned across the table to touch the +Patriarch's hand, "I feel like a blooming philanthropist. An outsider +might think I was playing you pretty low and taking advantage of you, +and even Helena's got a budding hunch that way it seems--but just think +of the mess you'd have been in if it wasn't for me, just think of the +good you're going to do, and just look at yourself and see how pleased +and happy you look." + +The Patriarch smiled responsively to the touch upon his hand. + +"Of course you are," said Madison affably. + +Presently there came the sound of an axe busily at work, and a moment +later Helena came laughingly into the room. + +"He's filling up the wood-box," she explained, and darting across to +Madison put her arms around his neck. "Aren't you going to tell me +you're glad to see me?" she whispered coyly. "Oh, I've been longing so +for you! Kiss me"--she held out tempting little red lips, invitingly +pursed up. + +"Nix on that!" said Madison, smiling but firm, as he disengaged her +arms. "Soft pedal, Helena, my dear." + +"But he can't see or hear," pouted Helena. + +"I should hope not!" said Madison, with a gasp. "But you never know who +else might, or when they might--we begin right, and run no risks--see? +People have a charming habit of dropping around informally +here--everybody's at home." + +"Don't you love me any more?" inquired Helena, unconvinced, and still +pouting. + +"Of course, I do!" asserted Madison, laughing at her. "Don't be a goose, +Helena. You remember what I told you all in the Roost, don't you? Well, +I haven't been living in a Maine village ten days or two weeks for +nothing, and what I said then goes now more than ever. Now, don't get +sore, kid--there's a big stake up, and if we're going to play the game +we've got to play it to the limit. We live perfectly, ultra-proper, +decent lives, mentally, morally, physically, till we beat it out of here +for keeps." + +"Ain't we going to have a nice time!" murmured Helena sarcastically. + +"Oh, cheer up!" said Madison. "It may be quiet for a day or two--but not +much longer than that. Now tell me about the Flopper and Pale Face +before Higgins gets back--have they got things straight? And pat your +uncle's hand while you talk, Helena--get the habit." + +"I don't have to get the habit," said Helena a little crossly, perching +herself on the arm of the Patriarch's chair and taking his hand. "I +think he's a perfect dear, and for us to sit here and take advantage of +him when he trusts us is--" + +"Now cut that out," said Madison cheerfully. "Think of those gondolas in +Venice when we get through with this--that'll make you feel better. Go +on about the Flopper and Pale Face--can the Flopper speak any English +yet?" + +Helena laughed in spite of herself. + +"I've had a dream of a time with him," she said. "He's broken his neck +trying, at any rate; and he's not so bad as he was--quite." + +"Good!" said Madison. "And?" + +"I read them your last letter saying they were to come together and work +the train on the way down," she continued. "The Flopper got the +postmaster's letter, too." + +"How did it size up as a testimonial?" inquired Madison. + +Helena's dark eyes flashed with amusement. + +"Lovely!" + +"Too thick--fishy?" asked Madison. + +"Oh, no," said Helena, "not if you have faith--just strong. It's all +right, though; I told him he could use it--it's a drawing card in +itself, for some of them would be curious enough to get off and see the +finish. Everything is all fixed--they'll be here to-morrow." + +"Good girl!" said Madison approvingly. "We'll pull it off out there on +the lawn where all the multitude can see--you'll have to lead his nibs +out and guide him to the Flopper while the hush falls and you look kind +of scared--you know the lay. There's no one can touch you when it comes +to playing up to the house. And now, there's just one thing more--you'll +need some one around here to help you and keep an eye on the offerings +when they begin to come in. Well, that's the Flopper's role in the +second act--see? Overwhelmed with gratitude at his cure, he attaches +himself to the Patriarch with dog-like fidelity--beautiful thought!--get +the idea? And--" + +"Hush!" cautioned Helena. "Here's Mr. Higgins coming." + +"All right," said Madison, rising and moving to the door. "I'm going +now, then--guess you understand. See you in the morning for the final +touches. Tell Mr. Higgins I'm waiting outside for him to drive me home." +He raised his voice. "Good afternoon, Miss Vail," he said, and stepped +out onto the lawn. + + + + +--VIII-- + +IN WHICH THE BAIT IS NIBBLED + + +There was a group around the Flopper on the Portland platform beside the +Bar Harbor express; some wore pitying expressions, others smiled a +little tolerantly--Pale Face Harry, from the circle, sneered openly. + +"Nutty!" he coughed, and touched his forehead. "Nothing doing in the +upper story--some one ought to look after him." + +The Flopper, a crippled thing on the ground, fixed Pale Face Harry with +a pointed forefinger. + +"Youse don't look like you had many weeps to spare for anybody but +yerself--yer fallin' to pieces," said the Flopper. "I didn't ask you nor +any of youse to butt in--I was talkin' to dis lady here"--he motioned +toward a young woman in a wheeled, invalid chair, who, between a trained +nurse on one side and a gentleman on the other, was regarding him with a +startled expression in her eyes. + +She turned now and spoke to the gentleman beside her. + +"Robert," she said, in a low, anxious tone, "do you think that--that +there can be anything in it?" + +"Have you lost your head, Naida?" the man laughed. "The age of miracles +has passed." + +"But he is so _sure_," she whispered. + +"Poppycock!" said her companion contemptuously. + +The Flopper, in good, if unfashionable and ready-made clothes, fresh +linen, and a clean shave, turned a bright, intelligent face on the man +at this remark. + +"I guess youse are de kind," he said, with a grim smile, "dat ain't had +to kill yerself worryin' much about any kind of trouble, an' it ain't +nothin' to you to cut de ground of hope out from another guy's feet an' +let him slide. Mabbe you think I'm nutty too, because I know I'm goin' +to be cured--but it don't hurt you none to have me think so, does it? +Mabbe someday you might like to hope a little yerself, an' if--" + +"'Board! All aboard!"--the conductor's voice boomed down the platform. + +The young woman leaned forward in her chair toward the Flopper. + +"I know what it is to hope," she said softly. "Will you come back into +our car after awhile? I'd like to have you tell me more about this. +Please do." + +"Sure," said the Flopper amiably. "Sure, mum, I will, if youse wants me +to." + +The crowd broke up, hurrying for the train; and the Flopper, dragging a +valise along beside him, jerked himself toward the steps. + +"Swipe me, if I ain't got a bite already!" said the Flopper to himself. +"An' outer a private car, too--wouldn't dat bump you! An' say, wait till +you see de Doc t'row up his dukes when he listens to me handin' out me +sterilized English!" + +The brakeman and a kindly-hearted fellow passenger helped the Flopper +into the train--and thereafter for an hour or more, in a first class +coach, the Flopper held undisputed sway. The passengers, flocking from +the other cars, filled the aisle and seriously interfered with the +lordly movements of the train crew, challenging the conductor's +authority with passive indifference until that functionary, exasperated +beyond endurance, threatened to curtail the ride the Flopper had paid +for and put him off at the next station--whereat the passive attitude of +the passengers vanished. The American public is always interested in a +novelty, and on occasions is not to be gainsaid--the American public, as +represented by the patrons of the Bar Harbor express, was interested at +the moment in the Flopper, and they passed the conductor from hand to +hand--it was the only way he could have got through the car--and +deposited him outside in the vestibule to tell his troubles to the +buffer-plate. + +The Flopper was in deadly, serious earnest; there was no doubt, no +possible room for doubt on that score--one had but to look at the flush +upon his cheeks and note the ring of conviction in his voice. Even Pale +Face Harry's gibes and sneers melted before the unshakable assurance, +and he became, with reservations, noticeably impressed. + +A metropolitan newspaper man was struck with the idea of a humorous +series of articles to pay for his vacation, entitled, "Characters I Have +Met In Maine"--and forthwith, perched on the back of the seat behind the +Flopper, proceeded to sketch out the first one, with the mental +determination to get off at Needley for the local color necessary to its +climax. + +A soap drummer nudged a fellow drummer whose line was lingerie. + +"Ever do Needley?" he grinned. + +The lingerie exponent had a sense of humor--he grinned back. + +"My house is everlastingly rubbing it into me to open up new territory," +said the soap salesman. + +"Me too," responded the white-goods man. + +"Needley," said he of the soap persuasion, "would be virgin soil for any +drummer." + +"I'd like to see the finish," said the lingerie man--still grinning. + +"Well?" inquired the soap man--still grinning. "What do you say?" + +"You bet!" said the man with eight trunks full of daintiness in the +baggage car ahead. "It's Needley for ours--you're on!" + +The Flopper was an artist--and he was in his glory. Where his position +was indubitably weak, he side-stepped with the frank admission that he +knew no more than they. He knew only one thing, and that was the only +thing he cared about, the rest made no odds to him, he was going down to +Needley to be cured--and he let them see Mr. Higgins' letter. + +A porter from the rear car squirmed and wriggled his way down to the +seat occupied by the Flopper. + +"Mistah Tho'nton, sah," he announced importantly, "would like to see you +in his private car, if you could done make it convenient, sah." + +"Sure!" said the Flopper. + +The passengers crowded up, standing on the seats and arm-rests, to make +room for the Flopper to crawl down the aisle, while the porter preceded +him to open the doors. + +Through the car in the rear of the one he had occupied, the regular +parlor car, the Flopper, a piteous spectacle, made his way--chairs +turned, the occupants craned their necks after the deformed and broken +creature, while smothered exclamations and little cries of sympathy from +the women followed him along. The Flopper's eyes never lifted from the +strip of carpet before him, but his lips moved. + +"Gee!" he muttered. "Dis has de gape-wagon skun a mile. Wish I could +pass de hat--I'd make de killin' of me young life. Pipe de hydrogen hair +on de gran'mother wid de sparkler on her thumb an' weeps in her eyes, +an' look at de guy wid de yellow gloves rolled back on his wrists to +heighten de intelligint look on his face, dat she's kiddin'--I could +play dem to a fare-thee-well if I only had de chanst. Oh, gee!"--the +Flopper sighed--"an' I got to let it go!" + +With regret still poignantly affecting him, the Flopper passed on into +the private car, and the porter ushered him into a sort of combination +observation and sitting-room compartment. The Flopper's eyes lifted and +made a quick, comprehensive tour of his surroundings. The young woman +who had spoken to him on the platform was reclining on a couch; the +nurse sat on the foot of the couch; and the man was tilted back in an +armchair against the window. + +The young woman raised herself to a sitting posture and held out her +hand. + +"I am Mrs. Thornton," she said, with a smile. "This is my husband, and +this is Miss Harvey, my nurse. It was very good of you to come, Mr.--?" +she paused invitingly. + +"Coogan," supplied the Flopper. "Michael Coogan." + +"Let me offer you a chair, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton, a little +ironically, pushing one toward the Flopper. "Or would you be more +comfortable on the floor?" + +The Flopper's eyelids fell--covering a quick, ugly glint. + +"T'anks!" he said--and swung himself, by his arms, into the chair. + +"I want you to tell me all about this strange man in Needley, and how +you came to hear of him and believe in him," said Mrs. Thornton. "I was +only able to get just the barest outline of it out there on the +platform with the crowd around." + +"Dat's easy," said the Flopper earnestly. "Sure, I'll tell you. I saw a +piece about dis Patriarch in one of de Noo Yoik papers, so I writes to +de postmaster of de town to find out if he was on de level--see?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Thornton. "And what did the postmaster say?" + +The Flopper took Hiram Higgins' letter from his pocket and handed it to +Mrs. Thornton. + +"Youse can read it fer yerself, mum," he said, with an air of one +delivering a final and irrefutable argument. + +Mrs. Thornton read the letter carefully, almost anxiously. + +"If only a part of this is true," she said wistfully, passing it to her +husband, "it is perfectly wonderful." + +Mr. Thornton read it--with a grin. + +"I don't know, I am sure," he observed caustically, handing the letter +to Miss Harvey, "how the medical profession would stand on this--would +your school endorse it, nurse?" + +Miss Harvey read it with her back to the others--then she glanced at +Mrs. Thornton--and checked herself as she was about to speak. She folded +the letter slowly and returned it to the Flopper without comment. + +Robert Thornton, master of millions, hard-headed and practical for all +his youth, leaned forward in his chair toward the Flopper. + +"Look here," he said bluntly, "you don't mean to say that you believe +this seriously, do you?" + +"Oh, no!" said the Flopper softly. "Nothin' like dat! Of course I don't +believe it! I'm only guyin' myself--see? I'm just goin' dere fer +fun--an' spendin' me last red to get dere. Say"--his voice snapped--"wot +do youse t'ink I am, anyway?" + +"Surely, Robert," said Mrs. Thornton gently, "it is evident enough that +he believes it." + +Thornton did not look at her--he was still gazing at the Flopper, his +brows knitted. + +"How long have you been like this?" he demanded sharply. + +"All me life," said the Flopper. "I was born dat way." + +"And you expect to go down here and by some means, which I must confess +is quite beyond my ability to grasp, be cured in a miraculous +manner!"--Thornton smiled tolerantly. + +"Sure, I do!" asserted the Flopper doggedly. "If he's done it fer de +crowd dere, why can't he do it fer me? Didn't de postmaster say all yer +gotter have is faith? Well, I got de faith--an' I got it hard enough to +stake all I got on it. Dis time to-morrow--say, dis time to-morrow I +wouldn't change places wid any man in de United States." + +Thornton's tolerant smile deepened. + +"I guess you're sincere enough," he said; "and I'm not trying to cut the +ground of hope out from under your feet, as you put it out on the +platform--but it seems to me that it is only the kindly thing to do to +warn you that the more faith you put in a thing like this the worse you +are making it for yourself--you are laying up a bitter disappointment in +store that can only make your present misfortune the more unbearable." + +The Flopper shook his head. + +"If he's done it fer others, he can do it fer me," he repeated, with +unshaken conviction. "An' dat goes--I can't lose." + +Thornton tilted his chair back again, and stared at the Flopper with +pitying incredulity. + +There was silence for a moment; then Mrs. Thornton spoke. + +"Robert," she said slowly, "I want to stop at Needley." + +The front legs of Thornton's chair came down on the heavy carpet with a +dull thud, and he whirled around in his seat to stare at his wife. + +"You don't mean to say, Naida," he gasped, "that you've got faith in +this thing, too!" + +"No; not faith," she answered pathetically. "I hardly dare to _hope_. I +have hoped so much in the last year, and--" + +"But this is sheer nonsense!" Thornton broke in with irritable +impatience. "I can understand this man here, in a way--he has the +superstition, if you like to call it that, due to lack of education, if +he'll pardon my saying so in his presence; but you, Naida, surely you +can't take any stock in it!" + +She smiled at him a little wanly. + +"I have told you that I didn't even dare to hope," she said. "But I want +to see--I want to see. I have tried sanatoriums and consulted +specialists until it has all become a nightmare to me and I am no +better--I sometimes think I never shall be any better." + +"But," exploded Thornton, rising from his chair, "that's nothing to do +with this--this is rank foolishness! Nurse, you--" + +Miss Harvey, too, had risen, and was regarding Mrs. Thornton anxiously. + +"It is better to humor her than to excite her," she said in a low voice. + +Mrs. Thornton had dropped back on the couch and her face was turned away +from the others, but she stretched out her hand to her husband. + +"I am not asking very much, Robert, dear--am I?" she said. "Not very +much. Won't you do this for me?" + +Thornton bit his lips and scowled at the Flopper. + +"Well, I'll be damned!" he muttered--and moving to the side of the car +pushed a bell-button viciously. "Sam," he snapped, as his colored man +appeared, "go and tell the conductor that I want my car put off on the +siding at Needley." + +"Yes, sah," said Sam. + +Thornton sat down again heavily. + +"Mabbe," announced the Flopper tactfully, "mabbe I'd better be gettin' +back to me valise--we're most dere, ain't we?" + +Mrs. Thornton turned toward him. + +"No; please don't go, Mr. Coogan--it's too hard for you to get through +the train. Sam will get your things as soon as he comes back. Do stay +right where you are until we get to Needley." + +"No; don't think of going, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton savagely. + +The Flopper looked at Mrs. Thornton gratefully, and at Mr. Thornton +thoughtfully. + +"T'anks!" said the Flopper pleasantly--and wriggled himself into a more +comfortable position in his chair. + +Half an hour later, the train, that stopped only on signal to discharge +eastbound passengers from Portland, drew up at Needley--and Hiram +Higgins, on the platform, stared at a scene never before witnessed in +the history of the town. + +It was not one passenger, or two, or three, that alighted--they streamed +in a bewildering fashion from every vestibule of every car. It is true +that the majority got back into the train later, but that did not lessen +the effect any on Mr. Higgins. Mr. Higgins' jaw dropped, and he grabbed +at his chin whiskers for support. + +"Merciful daylights!" he breathed heavily. "Now what in the land's sakes +be it all about?" His eyes, following the hurrying passengers, fixed on +the twisted shape of the Flopper, being helped to the platform from the +private car. + +"Three cheers for Coogan!" yelled some excitable passenger. + +The cheers were given with a will. + +"Good luck to you, Coogan!" shouted another--and the crowd took it up +in chorus: "Good luck to you, Coogan!" + +"_Coogan!_"--Mr. Higgins' face paled, and he took a firmer grip on his +whiskers. "Now if you ain't gone an' put your fool foot in it, Hiram +Higgins," he said miserably. "If that there's the fellow that you writ +to, you've just laid out to make a plumb fool of the Patriarch, 'cause I +reckon the Almighty knew His own mind when He made a critter like that, +an' didn't calc'late to have His work upsot much this side of the +grave--not even by the Patriarch." + + + + +--IX-- + +THE PILGRIMAGE + + +Faith is an inheritance common to the human race; and the human race in +its daily life, in its daily dealings, man to man, could not go on +without it--but faith is a matter of degree. Faith, in the abstract, the +element of it, is inborn in every soul; and while dormant, until put to +a crucial test along any given line, is boundless and unlimited--a sort +of tacitly accepted, existing state, unquestioned. Faith in many is a +sturdy, virile thing--to a certain point. It is the fire that proves. + +Needley had faith in the Patriarch--a faith that never before had been +questioned. But Needley had more than that--Needley held the Patriarch +in affection, as a cherished thing, almost sacredly, almost as an idol. +Faith the simple people of Needley had always had--to a certain +point--but it faltered before this grotesque, inhuman, twisted shape +that squatted in the road before the Congress Hotel like a hideous +caricature of an abnormal toad. Their faith failed to bridge the span +that gave the Patriarch power over such as this, and they saw their idol +shattered in their own eyes, and held up to mockery before the eyes of +these strangers who had so suddenly and tempestuously swarmed upon them. + +Hiram Higgins, seeking out Doc Madison inside the hotel, was in a state +bordering on distraction. + +"I druve him over from the station 'cause he couldn't walk, him an' a +man, an' two women, an' a wheel-chair," Mr. Higgins explained. "But +what's to be done now? He wants me to drive him out to the Patriarch's. +I got faith in the Patriarch, but I never said he could work +miracles--there ain't no one on earth could straighten that critter out. +Don't stand to reason that the Patriarch's to be made a fool of." + +"Certainly not," agreed Madison emphatically. "It's most unfortunate. I +suppose all of us here in Needley"--he looked around at the assembled +group of leading citizens--"feel the same way, too?" + +"Of course we do," said Mr. Higgins helplessly. "Couldn't feel no ways +else." + +Madison laid his hand suddenly, impressively, upon Mr. Higgins' shoulder +and looked meaningly into Mr. Higgins' eyes--and into the eyes of the +selectmen, the overseers of the poor, the general-store proprietor, and +the school committee. + +"Don't drive him over, then," he said significantly. "Don't any of the +rest of you do it either--and tell everybody else not to. Make him +_crawl_. If he's determined to go, let him get there by himself if he +can, make him crawl--he'll never be able to do it." + +"That's so," said Mr. Higgins, brightening, while the others nodded; +then, dubiously: "But s'pose he _does_ get there--how be we goin' to +stop him?" + +"If he can get there by himself you can't stop him," said Madison +seriously. "You can't do anything like that. To use force would be +carrying things too far, and would only place the Patriarch in a worse +light. If this fellow--what's his name?--Coogan?--can crawl there, let +him--that's his own business. None of _us_ are encouraging him, the +Patriarch didn't ask him to come, and no one has a right to expect +miracles--so it can't hurt the Patriarch seriously under those +conditions. Besides, if this Coogan has got faith enough to crawl that +mile, who knows what might happen--make him crawl." + +Mr. Higgins, with a grim nod, headed a determined exodus from the hotel +office--and Madison strolled out onto the veranda. + +Needley was in a furor. The news spread like an oil-fed conflagration. +The farmers left their work in the fields and hurried into the village; +from the houses and cottages came the women and children to cluster +around the Congress Hotel; from the station, scarcely of less interest +to the inhabitants than the Flopper himself, straggled in those curious +enough to have left the train, nearly a dozen of them--and amongst them +Pale Face Harry coughed, as he trudged laboriously along. + +Larger and larger grew the circle around the Flopper, filling and +blocking the road, overflowing into front yards, and massing on the +little lawn of the hotel clear up to the veranda--until fields and +houses were deserted, and to the last inhabitant Needley was there. + +Upon the ground squatted the Flopper, his eyes sweeping the ring of +faces that was like a wall around him--the grinning faces of his fellow +passengers from the train; the stony, concerned and rather sullen faces +of the men of Needley; the anxious, excited faces of the women; the +bewildered, curious and somewhat frightened faces of the children, who +pushed and shoved their elders for better vantage ground. + +The Flopper licked his lips, and renewed the appeal he had been making +for nearly five minutes. + +"Ain't no one goin' to drive me out to de Patriarch's?" + +"Horses are all busy in the fields," said a voice, uncompromisingly. + +"Yes," said the Flopper, with bitter irony, "drivin' each other around, +while youse are here starin' at me an' won't help." + +His eyes caught Doc Madison's from the veranda and held an instant to +read a message and interpret the almost imperceptible, but significant, +movement of Madison's head. + +"Gee!" said the Flopper to himself, as his eyes swept the faces around +him again. "Dis is a nice game de Doc's planted on me--he wants me to +do de wiggle out dere fer de rubes! Ain't dey a peachy lot--look at de +saucer eyes on de kids!" + +Mrs. Thornton, in her wheel-chair on the inner edge of the circle, +turned to her husband. + +"It's very strange that no one seems willing to drive him," she said. + +"Oh, not very," responded Thornton, with a short laugh. "I don't blame +them--they don't want this healer of theirs made a monkey of." + +"If no one will drive him, he shall have my wheel-chair," announced Mrs. +Thornton impulsively. "I think it is a perfect shame--the poor man!" + +"Nonsense!" said Thornton gruffly. "You'll do nothing of the kind." + +"Yes, Robert, I will," declared Mrs. Thornton with determination. She +leaned forward and called to the Flopper. "Mr. Coogan," she said +anxiously, "if you can't find any other way of getting out there, I want +you to take this chair of mine--you'll be able to manage with it, I am +sure." + +The Flopper looked at her with gratitude--but shook his head--mindful of +Doc Madison. + +"T'anks, mum," he said, "but I couldn't t'ink of it--you needs it more'n +me." + +"Please do," she insisted. + +"T'anks, mum," said the Flopper again, "but I couldn't. You needs it, +an' I can get along widout it. Dey're stallin' on me, but I can get dere +by myself if any one'll show me de way." + +"I'll show you, mister," piped a shrill voice--and young Holmes on his +crutch hopped into the circle. "I'll show you, mister--an' 'tain't fur, +neither." + +"Swipe me!" muttered the Flopper, as he surveyed the lad. "Dis is de +limit fer fair!" Perturbed and uncertain what to do, he tried to catch +Doc Madison's eye again, but a movement in the crowd had hidden Madison. + +Some one in the crowd, the lingerie drummer, getting the grim humor of +the situation, laughed--and the laugh came like a challenge, taunting +the quick-tempered, turbulent soul of the Flopper. + +"Come on, mister!" urged the boy excitedly. "'Tain't fur--I'll show +you." + +"God bless you, son," said the Flopper, while he flung an inward curse +at the man who had laughed. "Son, God bless you fer yer good heart--go +ahead--I'll stick to you." + +The crowd opened, making a lane through which the boy stumped on his +crutch, his face flushed and eager, and through which the Flopper +followed, slowly, rocking from side to side as he helped himself along +with the palm of his left hand flat in the dust of the road, trailing +his wobbling leg behind him. + +The crowd closed in behind and moved forward. + +Mrs. Thornton's face was fever-flushed, her eyes bright; in her weak +state she was on the verge of nervous hysteria. + +"I want to go, Robert," she cried. "I must go." + +"But, my dear," protested Thornton harshly, "this is simply the height +of absurdity. For Heaven's sake be sensible, Naida. Just imagine what +people would say if they saw us here with this outfit of idiots--they'd +think we'd gone mad." + +"I don't care what they'd think," she returned feverishly, her frail +fingers plucking nervously at the arms of her chair. "I must go--I +must--I must." + +Thornton glanced at the nurse, then stared at his wife--Miss Harvey's +meaning look was hardly necessary to drive home to him the fact that +Mrs. Thornton was in no condition to be denied anything. + +Red-faced, Thornton strode to the back of the chair and began to push it +along. + +"Of all the damned foolishness that ever I heard of," he gritted +savagely, "this is the worst!" His face went redder still with +mortification. "If this ever leaks out I'll never hear the last of it. +Look at us--bringing up the rear of a gibbering mob of yokels! We're fit +for a padded cell!" + +In the crowd, Madison rubbed shoulders for a moment with Pale Face +Harry. + +"Who's the party with the wheel-chair behind?" he asked. + +"Millionaire--Chicago--private car--Flopper's got the wife going +hard--rode down with them," coughed Pale Face Harry behind his hand. + +"I guess I'll get acquainted," said Madison. "Circulate, Harry, and +cough your head off--don't hide your light under a bushel--circulate." +And Madison fell back to scrape acquaintance with the man of millions. + +Close-packed upon the road, the procession spread out for a hundred +yards behind the Flopper--bare-footed children; women in multi-colored +gingham and calico; men in the uncouth dress of the fields, the +uncouthness accentuated by the sprinkling of more pretentious clothing +worn by those who had come from the train. And slowly, very slowly, this +conglomerate human cosmorama moved on, undulating queerly with the +variant movements of its component parts, snail-like, for the Flopper's +pace was slow--as strange a spectacle, perhaps, as the human eye had +ever witnessed, something of grimness, something of humor, something of +awe, something of fear exuding from it--it seemed to contain within +itself the range, and to express, the gamut of all human emotion. + +On the procession went--so slowly as to be almost sinister in its +movement. And a strange sound rose from it and seemed to float and hover +over it like a weird, invisible, acoustic canopy. Three hundred voices, +men's, women's and children's, rose and fell, rose and fell--at first in +a medley of scoffings, laughter, sullen murmurs, earnest dispute and +children's prattle--a strange composite sound indeed! But as the +minutes passed and the mass moved on and stopped as the Flopper paused +to rest, and moved on and stopped and moved on again, gradually this +changed, very gradually, not abruptly, but as though the scoffings and +the laughter were dying away almost imperceptibly in the distance. For +as the Flopper stopped to rest, those near him gazed upon his face, +distorted, full of muscular distress, sweat pouring from his forehead, +pain and suffering written in every lineament--and drew back whispering +into the crowd, giving place to others until all had seen. And so the +strange sound from this strange congregation grew lower, until it was a +sort of breathless, long-sustained and wavering note, a prescience, a +premonition of something to come, a ghastly mockery or a tragedy to +befall, until it was an awe-struck murmuring thing. + +Some spoke to him now and in pity offered to get him a horse and wagon, +offered even to carry him--but the Flopper shook his head. + +"'Tain't goin' to be but a few minutes now," he panted in an exalted +voice, "before I'm cured--I got de faith to know dat--I got de faith." + +And the crippled lad upon the crutch beside him urged him on. The boy's +face was strained and eager, full of mingled emotions--pride in the +leading part he played, wonder and expectancy. + +"Come on, mister, come on!" he kept saying, impatiently accommodating +his own restricted pace to the Flopper's still slower one. + +Through the wagon track, through the woods beneath the trees, the dead, +slow, shuffling tread went on--and now even the murmuring sound was +hushed. Men and women stared into each other's faces--children sought +their elders' hands. What did it mean? Faith--yes, they had had +faith--but never faith like this. They looked at the awful deformity +over one another's heads, crawling inch by inch along before +them--watched the stubborn, bitter struggle of pain and suffering of the +wretched man who led them, spurred on by a faith cast in a heroic mold +such as none there had ever dreamed of before--and they spoke no more. +There was only the sound of movement now--and that curiously subdued. +Men seemed to choose their footing, seeking to tread noiselessly, as +though in some solemn presence that awed them and held them in an +intangible, heart-quickening suspense. + +Onward they went--following the lurching, wriggling, reeling, broken +thing before them--following the Flopper, his right hand and arm curved +piteously inward to his chin, his neck thrown sideways, his sagging leg +seeming to hold only to his body by spasmodic jerks to catch up with the +body itself, like the steel when detached from the magnet that bounds +forward to re-attach itself again, his eyes starting from his head, his +face bloodless with exertion and twisted as fearfully as were his limbs, +but upon his lips a smile of resolution, of indomitable assurance. + +Onward they went--a huddled mass of humanity, literate and illiterate, +of all ages, of all conditions, and none laughed, none grinned, none +smiled, none spoke--all that was past. They stopped, they moved +again--as the Flopper stopped and moved. Occasionally a child cried +out--occasionally there came a discordant, racking cough--that was all. + +Tenser grew the very atmosphere they breathed--heavier upon them fell +the sense of something almost supernatural, beyond the human and the +finite. Skeptic and faint believer, sinner, Christian and scoffer, they +were all alike now in the presence of a faith whose evidence was before +them in harrowing vividness, in the torment and agony of a fellow +creature who sought again through faith a restoration to the image of +his kind. There was no creed, no school of ethical belief, no +conflicting orthodoxy to quibble over, no ground on which atheist and +theologian even might stand apart--there was only _faith_--a faith whose +trappings none might take issue with, for it was naked faith and the +trappings were stripped from it--it was faith in its very essence, +boundless, utter, simple, limitless, staggering, appalling them. + +Its consummation? That was another thing--a thing that in the presence +of such faith as this brought human pity, sympathy and sorrow to its +full, brought dread and terror. Faith such as this they had never +conceived; faith such as this, if it was to prove a shattered thing, was +for its exponent to drink the very dregs of misery and despair--and +yet, rising above that possibility, flinging grim challenge at their +doubts, stood this very faith, mighty in itself, perfect in its +confidence, heroic in its agony, that all might gaze upon from a common +standpoint and know--as faith. + +No whispering breeze stirred the young leaves in the trees; in the +stillness of the afternoon came only the heavy, pulsing throb of +Nature's breathing. One hundred, two, three hundred, they moved along, +slow, sinuous, troubled, their eyes straight before them or upon the +ground at their feet--only the children looked with frightened, startled +eyes into their parents' faces, and clung the closer. + +Out upon the wagon track they debouched and spread in a long, thin line +beneath the maples on either side of the Flopper--and waited. + + + + +--X-- + +THE MIRACLE + + +There was utter silence now--the tread of shuffling feet was gone--no +man moved--it seemed as though no man _breathed_--they stood as carven +things, inanimate, men, women and children strained forward, their faces +drawn, tense and rigid. In the very air, around them, everywhere, +imprisoning them, clutching like an icy hand at the heart, something +unseen, a dread, intangible presence weighed them down and lay heavy +upon them. What was to come? What drear tragedy was to be enacted? What +awful mockery was to fall upon this maimed and mutilated creature within +whose deformed and pitiful body there too was a human soul? + +From the cottage door across the lawn came two figures--a girl in +simple, clinging white, her head bowed, the sun itself seeming to caress +the dark brown wealth of hair upon her head, changing it to glinting +strands of burnished copper; and beside her walked the Patriarch, his +hand resting lightly upon her arm, a wondrous figure of a man, majestic, +simple, grand, his silvered-hair bared to the sun, his face illumined. + +"There he is, mister!" whispered young Holmes hoarsely. "There he is! Go +on, mister, go on--see what he can do for you!" + +There came a sound that was like a great, gasping intake of breath, as +men and women watched. Out toward the Patriarch, alone now, the Flopper +began to wriggle and writhe his way along. God in Heaven have pity! What +was this sight they looked upon--this poor, distorted, mangled thing +that grovelled in the earth--that figure towering there in the sunlight +with venerable white beard and hair, erect, symbolic of some strange, +mystic power that awed them, his head turned slightly in a curious +listening attitude, the sightless eyes closed, upon the face a great +calm like a solemn benediction. + +Fell a stillness that was as the stillness of death; came a hush until +in men's ears was the quick, fierce pound and throb of their own hearts. +On, on toward the Patriarch slithered and twisted that frightful +deformity that they had followed over that long, torturing mile--on, on +he went, and they watched scarce drawing breath, their faces white, +their very limbs held as in a palsied, fearsome spell--and then, sudden, +abrupt, terrifying, there rose a shriek, wild, hysterical, prolonged, in +a woman's voice, the cadence wavering from guttural to shrill and ending +in a high-pitched, broken scream. + +The Flopper halted and turned himself about, while his left hand swept +his livid face, brushing from it the spurting drops, sweeping back the +damp, tangled hair from his eyes--faced them till they saw an agony on +human countenance that struck, stabbing, to their souls--faced them +while his eyes traversed the long, long line of ghastly white faces +before him, out of which eyes everywhere, row on row of them, straining, +fixed, fascinated, seemed to burn like living fires as they held him in +their focus. + +He had not gone far, perhaps ten yards--no more. By the group around the +wheel-chair, almost in the center of the line, stood Madison, his chin +in his hand in a meditative, thoughtful attitude, the single soul who +watched the scene from under lowered lids; Thornton had involuntarily +edged a little forward from behind the chair until he stood now at its +side in a strange, abashed way as though his own personality were +over-ruled, obliterated, his face with a white sternness upon it, his +eyes, like all other eyes, agleam with an unnatural fire; Mrs. Thornton +had pulled herself forward in the chair, one hand clutching at her +breast, the frail fingers of the other woven in a grasp so tight around +the arm of the chair that the flesh was bloodless; a little way off, a +group of three, the two salesmen and the metropolitan newspaper man, +seemed as though stricken into stone, stripped of all assurance, all +complacence, awed, tense, palpitant, as the patched, bare-legged +tatterdemalion of ten from the fields, that stood beside them, was awed +and tense and palpitant. + +And away on either side stretched the line of white, rigid faces, the +never-ending, burning eyes--but the silence with that shriek was gone +now, for another woman and another, overwrought, needing but that sudden +shock to unnerve them utterly, shrieked in turn--and through the line +seemed to run a shudder, and it moved a little though no foot stirred, +moved with a strange, sinuous, rocking, swaying movement, from the hips, +backward and forward and to either side. Men raised their eyes, stole +frightened, questioning glances at their neighbors--and fixed their eyes +on the Flopper again--on the Flopper and that majestic figure in the +center of the lawn, so calm of mien, of attitude and pose. + +Once again the Flopper's eyes swept the scene. A few feet in advance of +the crowd, as though drawn irresistibly forward, young Holmes hung upon +his crutch. The boy's soul seemed in his face--hope, a world of it, as +he gazed at the Patriarch, sickening fear as he looked at the Flopper; +his lips moving without sound, his body trembling with emotional +excitement. Still once again the Flopper's eyes swept the line of men +and women and children, fast reaching toward a common ungovernable +hysteria--and then he turned with an unbalanced, impotent, broken +movement, flung out his good arm toward the Patriarch in piteous +supplication, and, jerking himself forward, went on. + +Slowly, very slowly at first, he resumed his way, crawling it seemed by +no more than a painful inch on inch, in mortal pain, in mortal agony and +struggle--then gradually his movements began to quicken, as though +growing upon him were a mad, elated haste that he could not +control--quicker and quicker he went, pitching and lurching wildly; from +a pace that was beyond him. + +A strange, low, moaning sound rose from behind him, fluttering, +inarticulate, that voiceless utterance that seeks to find some vent for +human emotion when human emotion sweeps with mighty surge to engulf the +soul. It rose and died away and rose again--and died away--and children +began to whimper with a fear and terror that they did not understand, +and seeking solace in their elders' faces found added cause for fear +instead. + +Nearer to that saintly figure who stood so calm, so quiet, the massive +white-locked head still turned a little in that curious listening +attitude, beside whom, close drawn now, was that white-clad girlish +form, whose eyes were lowered, whose sweet face seemed to hold a heaven +of pity and infinite compassion, upon whose lips there was a smile of +divine tenderness, drew that piteous mockery of the image of a man, +whose every movement appeared one of agony beyond human power to +endure--and the agony found echo in the watchers' souls, and a low, +muffled groan as of men in pain and hurt, ran tremulously along the +line. + +Still nearer to the Patriarch drew the Flopper. More heart-rending was +his every movement, for with his quickened pace he sought to move +without the aid of the only member that was as other men's, his left +hand and arm that, in pleading, yearning supplication, was stretched out +before him to the Patriarch. + +The extreme ends of the long line of watchers curled a little inward, +almost imperceptibly, a half step taken without volition. The crippled +boy, swaying upon his crutch, his lips parted, trembling in every limb, +edged forward hesitantly, fearfully, now a foot, now another, now the +bare space of a single inch. And now down the entire length of the line +from end to end that wavering, rocking movement in swaying, pregnant +unison grew stronger--men knew not what they did--it seemed the very air +they breathed must smother them--and, in that dull, weird, lingering +note, rose again the sound of moaning that seemed to beat in consonance +with the distant mournful rhythm of the endless beat of surf on shore. + +Women clutched at their breasts now; men's knuckles went white beneath +the tight-drawn skin; the children drew behind their mothers' skirts +and, terror-stricken, cried aloud. Surcharged, on the edge, the bare and +ragged edge of frenzy now was every man and woman in the crowd. It was a +sight, a spectacle that racked them in every fibre of their beings, that +stirred them to pity, to hope, to fear, until the awful misery of this +blighted and crawling thing was their own in its every twitch of +agony--that struck them with a terror, the greater because it was +indefinable, a prescience, a reaching out beyond human realm, the +invoking of a supernal power--the thought of which very power, once +loosed, chilled them with panic-dread. + +Yet still they watched--it was beyond their power to turn their +eyes--enthralled, a moaning, swaying, rocking mob, they watched. Madness +was creeping upon them rampant. Like a mighty tide, the ocean weight +behind it, hurling itself against flood-gates that could never stand, it +mounted higher and higher; and already, as the water first seeps between +the gates, grim forecast of what was to come, it showed itself now in +that long, sobbing, convulsive inhalation, in that strange, sinuous, +restless movement. + +On went the Flopper. There was still a yard to go--two feet--_one_. +Stopped in a sudden deathless hush was all sound. The Flopper flung +himself forward upon his face at the Patriarch's feet. Stopped was all +movement, haggard and tense every face, strained every eye. For a moment +that seemed to span eternity, in a huddled heap, that crippled, twisted +thing lay there before them motionless, without sign of life--the +venerable face above it, still intent, still listening, turned slowly +downwards. Then there was a movement, a movement that blanched the +watching faces to a more pallid white--that dangling, wobbling leg drew +inward slowly, very slowly, and hip and knee, as though guided by some +mighty power, immutable, supreme, came deliberately into normal form. + +A shriek, a cry, a wail, a sob, a prayer--it came now +unrestrained--hysteria was loosed in a mad ungovernable orgasm--men +clutched at each other and cowered, hiding their faces with their +hands--women dropped to their knees and, sobbing, screaming, prayed. +Loud it rose, the turmoil of human souls aghast and quailing before a +manifestation that seemed to fling them face to face, uncovered, naked, +before the awful power and majesty and might of Heaven itself. + +They looked again--fearfully. The twisted thing was standing now, +standing but still deformed--with crooked neck, with curved, bent, +palsied arm. And nearer had drawn little Holmes, his head thrust +forward, shaking as with the ague as he gazed on the group before him, +oblivious to all else around him. + +A twinge of frightful torture swept the Flopper's face--and with that +same slow, awful deliberation the misshapen arm straightened out. Men +cried aloud again and again--a woman fainted, another here, another +there--children wailed and ran, some shrieking, some whimpering, for the +woods. + +Again the spasm crossed the Flopper's face, a shuddering, muscular +contortion--and from the shoulder rose his head. + +Inward drew the ends of the line of paroxysm-stricken people--not far, +not near to that hallowed group for something held them back; but inward +gradually until the line, no longer straight, was half a circle, +crescent shaped. Louder came that harrowing medley of sounds, its +component parts voicing the uttermost depths of the soul of each +separate individual man and woman there--some moaned in terror; some +prayed, mumbling, still upon their knees; some laughed hoarsely, +wildly, their senses for the moment gone; and some were dumb; and some +shrieked their prayers in frenzy. Louder it grew--the end had come--that +deformed thing stood erect, a perfect man--he turned his face toward +them--he stretched out his arms--and they answered him with their wails, +their sobs, their moans, their cries--they answered him in their terror, +in their shaken senses, clutching at each other again--answered him from +their knees, their voices hoarse--answered him with trembling lips and +tongues that would not move. + +And then suddenly, as though riven where they stood and kneeled and +crouched, all movement ceased--and every heart stood still as ringing +clear above all else, shocking all else to stunned, petrified silence, +there came a cry--a cry in a young voice. It rang again and again, +trembling with glad, new life, vibrant, a cry that seemed to thrill with +chords of happiness and ecstasy immeasurable. Again it came, again, +exultant, pulsing with a mighty joy--young Holmes had _flung his crutch +from him_, and, with outstretched arms, was running toward the Patriarch +across the lawn. + +For an instant more that stunned, awed silence held. All eyes were +riveted and fixed upon the scene--none looked at Madison--if any had +they would have seen that his face had gone an ivory white. + + + + +--XI-- + +THE AFTERMATH + + +"I am cured, Robert! Robert! Robert! See, I too am cured! Oh, Robert, +what wondrous joy!"--Mrs. Thornton had left her wheel-chair and was +standing beside her husband, standing alone, unaided for the first time +in many months. + +"Naida!"--it was a hoarse cry from Thornton. Then his hand passed +heavily across his face as though to force his brain to coherent action, +to lift the spell of what seemed a wild phantasm in all around him. +"Naida!"--he sought now to control his voice--"Naida, get back into your +chair again." + +She laughed--a little hysterically--but in the laugh too was the uplift +of a soul enraptured. + +"But I am cured, Robert. See, dear, can't you understand?" She shook his +arm. "See--I am cured. I can walk just as I could before I was ill. Oh, +Robert, Robert! See! See!"--she went from him, walking a little, running +a little--and laughing in a low, rippling, glorious laugh that was like +the music of silver chimes ringing out in glad acclaim. + +He stared at her, both hands now to his temples; then he turned to look +strangely at the empty chair--but it was not empty. Miss Harvey, the +nurse, on her knees, had flung herself across it and, with buried head, +was sobbing unrestrainedly. + +And now upon the lawn was a scene indescribable. The long line was +broken. Men and women ran hither and thither, for the most part +aimlessly, as though in some strange state of coma where the mind +refused its functions. They talked and cried and shouted at each other +in frenzy without knowing what they said--some with tears raining down +their faces, others with blank countenances, no sign of emotion upon +them other than in their wild, dilated eyes. Here and there they rushed +without volition, their throat-noises rising above them, floating +through the still air in a sound that no ear had ever heard before, +weird, terrifying, without license, beyond control. Like mad creatures +rushing against each other in the dark they were, stupified by a sight +that was no mortal sight, a sight that blinded them mentally because it +was no _human_ sight. + +Faith? Faith is a matter of degree, is it not? + +Or is it at its full in power and efficacy at moments when hysteria in +paroxysm is at its height? Who shall define faith? Who shall say what it +is, and who shall place its limitations upon it? + +Out in the center of the lawn young Holmes was in his mother's arms, the +father pathetically trying to wrap both mother and child in his own. +Around them, attracted in that strange uncertain way, the crowd +constantly grew larger. Further out again, Helena was leading the +Patriarch toward the cottage, the Flopper close behind her--the +Patriarch walking with a slow tread, his head still turned a little in +that listening attitude--and at a distance followed a straggling crowd. +Then the cottage door was shut--and Helena, the Patriarch and the +Flopper disappeared from view. + +A dozen yards from the wheel-chair stood Madison, riveted to the spot, +motionless save for a nervous twitching of the lips, his eyes, now upon +the invalid who walked about, now on the little lad who had thrown away +his crutch. Some one plucked at his sleeve, but Madison gave no +heed--again his arm was pulled, and he turned to look into Pale Face +Harry's face. The other's countenance was gray, the eyes full of a +shrinking, terrified light. + +"Doc, for God's sake, Doc, what's it mean?" whispered Pale Face Harry +shakily, moistening his dry lips with his tongue. "Doc, this ain't no +bunk--there's something in it." + +The words seemed to rouse Madison--to leadership. He stared at Pale Face +Harry for a moment, then a grim smile flickered across his face. + +"Something in it!" he repeated with an ironic laugh--and suddenly +grabbed Pale Face Harry's arm and shook him. "There's so much in it that +I'm drunk with it, crazy with it--but I'm trying to make myself believe +it isn't too good to be true. Get that? Get a grip on that, and hang on. +Don't lose your nerve, Harry!" + +"I guess I ain't much worse than you," mumbled Pale Face Harry. "You're +whiter than a sheet." + +"You're right," admitted Madison frankly. "I'm queer, but I'm coming +around. Helena seems to be the only one who never lost her grip--she's +got the Patriarch and the Flopper out of the way and under cover. Brace +up, Harry--what I thought we'd get in the Roost that night is +counterfeit money to what'll come from this." His eyes fastened on a +figure that, separating itself from the group around young Holmes, now +dashed frantically, hatless, and with dishevelled hair to Mr. and Mrs. +Thornton. "Who's that, Harry? He came down on the train with you--know +him?" + +"He's only some newspaper guy or other," answered Pale Face Harry +mechanically, his eyes still roving wildly over the scene around him. + +"Oh, is that _all_!" ejaculated Madison with a little gasp. "I've +already exhausted my thanks to Santa Claus and here he comes with +another package done up in dinky pink paper tied with baby ribbon--and +the gold platter it's on goes with it!" + +"What d'ye mean?" asked Pale Face Harry heavily. + +The newspaper man, the instinct of his calling now rising paramount to +all else, had left the Thorntons and was tearing for the wagon track on +his way to the station and the telegraph office like one possessed. + +"By to-morrow morning," said Madison softly, "the missionaries will be +explaining this to the Esquimaux at Oo-lou-lou, the near-invalids in +California will be packing their trunks, likewise those in the languid +shade of the Florida palms; they'll be listing it on the stock exchange +in New York, and the breath of Eden will waft itself o'er plain and +valley until--" he stopped suddenly, as Mrs. Thornton's voice reached +him. + +"I am going to _walk_ back, Robert." + +"Yes; but, Naida," Thornton protested, "you're not strong enough yet." + +"Don't you understand?" she cried, half laughing, half sobbing. "There +is no 'yet'--I am cured, dear--_all_ cured. I'm well and strong. Try to +understand, Robert--oh, I'm so happy, so--so thankful. I know it's +miraculous, that it's almost impossible to believe--but try to +understand." + +"I am trying to," said Thornton numbly, watching her as she moved about. +"And it seems as though I were in a dream--that this isn't real--that +you're not real." + +"It's not a dream," she said. "Oh, I'm so strong again. Why, Robert, it +would be just as absurd for me to be wheeled back in that chair as for +you to be--and besides I have no right to do that now. It would be a +sacrilege, profaning the gratitude in my heart--I am cured and these +poor people here must see that I am cured--Robert, we must leave that +wheel-chair here that others, poor sufferers who will come now, will see +and believe and be cured too. And, Robert, in some way, I do not know +just how, we who are rich must do something to help people to get here." + +"Naida," said Thornton, his voice low, shaken, "I feel as though I were +in another world. I have seen what I can hardly make myself believe that +I have seen. I can't explain--I am speaking, but my very voice seems +strange to me. I feel as you do about helping others--how could I feel +otherwise? What we could do I do not know as yet, either--but I will do +anything. I was a scoffing fool--and you were cured before my eyes--a +boy was cured--and that other, deformed as no creature was ever deformed +before, was cured"--Thornton's lips quivered, and he hid his face in his +hands. + +"While the iron is hot--strike," murmured Madison. He gazed a moment +longer at the group--Mrs. Thornton's hand was on her husband's shoulder +now--then his eyes roved over the frenzied scenes still being enacted +everywhere upon the lawn. "I wonder?" he muttered. The frown on his +forehead cleared suddenly. "Of course!" said he to Pale Face Harry. +"It's a cinch--it's as good as done!" + +Pale Face Harry stared at him queerly. + +"No, Harry," smiled Madison, "my pulse is quite normal now, thank you. +Listen. This is where we call the first showdown on cold hands--and the +dealer slips himself an ace." He drew a key from his pocket and put it +in Pale Face Harry's hand. "That's the key of the small trunk in my +room at the hotel--front room, right hand side of the hall. There's a +check-book in the tray--and I'll give you twenty minutes to get back +here with it. You'll find me somewhere around here, but you needn't let +the whole earth in on the presentation--see? Now beat it!" + +As Pale Face Harry hurried away, Madison, seemingly as aimless, as +hysterical as the hundreds about him, moved here and there, but +unostentatiously he kept nearing the upper end of the lawn, and, +finally, hidden by the woodshed at the further end of the cottage, he +slipped quickly around to the rear. Here the garden stretched almost to +the edge of the sandy beach--not a soul was in sight--and the beat of +the surf deadened the sound from the front lawn to little more than a +low, indistinct murmur. + +Quickly now, Madison stepped to where one of the old-fashioned windows, +that swung inward from the center like double doors, was open, and, +reaching in his hand, tapped sharply twice in succession with his +knuckles on the pane. The sill was not quite on a level with his +shoulders and he could see inside--it was Helena's room, and the door to +the hall was open. Again he knocked. Came then the sound of +footsteps--and from the hall the Flopper's face peered cautiously around +the jamb of the door. + +"Tell Helena to come here," called Madison softly. + +The Flopper turned his head, called obediently, and in a dazed sort of +way came himself to the window. His face was haggard, and he shivered +as he licked his lips. + +"I pulled de stunt," said the Flopper in a croaking voice, "but de +kid--Doc--did youse see de kid? I got de shakes--it's like de whole of +hell an' de other place was loose, an' Helena's gone batty, an'--pipe +her, dere she is." + +Into the room came Helena, her face like chalk--all color gone from even +her lips. She clutched at the window beside the Flopper for support. + +"I'm frightened," she whispered. "We've gone too far--it's--it's--John +Madison, I'm frightened." + +Madison did not speak for a moment--Madison was a consummate leader. He +looked, smiling reassuringly, from one to the other--and then leaned +soothingly, confidentially, in over the sill. + +"I know how you feel--felt just the same myself for a bit," said he +quietly. "But now look here, you've got to pull yourselves +together--there's nothing to be afraid of. It's natural enough. It's +faith, Helena--and that's what we were banking on--only not quite so +hard. That kid and Mrs. Thornton annexed the real brand, that's all--and +when the genuine thing is on tap I cross my fingers and yell for +faith--there's nothing to stop it. And that's the way it's got both of +you too, eh? Well, that only makes our game the safer and the more +certain, doesn't it? So, come on now, pull yourselves together." + +"In de last act when I was gettin' me head into joint," mumbled the +Flopper, "was when de kid yelled--I can hear it yet, an'--" + +"Forget it!" Madison broke in a little sharply; then, tactfully, his +voice full of unbounded admiration: "You're an artist, Flopper--a +wonder. You pulled the greatest act that was ever on the boards, and you +pulled it as no other man on earth could have pulled it. Flopper, you +make me feel humble when I look at you." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper, brightening. "D'ye mean it, Doc--honest?" + +"Mean it!" ejaculated Madison. "You're the whole thing, Flopper--you +win. Come on now, Helena, buck up--we've got another little act due in +about fifteen minutes--don't let a lot of yowling rubes get your goat. +Why, say, we've got the whole show on the stampede--and we've got to +rush our luck." + +"Sure!" said the Flopper. "Dat's de way to talk--leave it to de Doc +every time--. I ain't feazed half de way I was." + +"I'm all right," said Helena a little tremulously. "What is it we're to +do?" + +"Good!" said Madison, smiling at her approvingly. "That sounds better. +Now listen--and listen hard. From this minute this cottage is the +Shrine. Get that?--Shrine. You've got to keep the hush falling here, and +keep it falling all the time--a sort of holy, hallowed silence, +understand? Lay it on thick--make the crowd stand back--make the guy +that comes in here feel as though he ought to come in on his knees and +as if he'd be struck dead if he didn't. Get the slow music and the low +lights working. And keep the Patriarch well back of the drop except when +he's on for a turn. Get me? He's no side-show with a barker in front of +the tent--don't forget that for a minute. The harder it is to see the +Patriarch and the less he's seen, the bigger he plays up when he's on. +He goes to no man under any conditions, and the only man or woman that +gets to him is through faith and supplication, and a double order of it +at that. Keep the solemn, breathless tap turned on all the time." + +Helena looked at him with a strange little smile quivering on her lips. + +"It's a good thing I've got a sense of humor," she said slowly, "or else +I think I'd--I'd--" + +"No, you wouldn't," said Madison cheerfully. "But time's flying. You're +going to have visitors in a few minutes, and here's where the Patriarch +gets tucked away out of sight behind the veil for a starter, leaving his +presence hovering and throbbing all around in the air--you stay with +him, Flopper, in a back room somewhere and hold his hand. Where is he +now?" + +"In his armchair in the sitting-room," said Helena. "And he's still +listening in that queer way he did out on the lawn. I think he knows in +a little way what's happened." + +"That's good," said Madison; "it'll make him happy. Well, lead him +gently into retirement. I guess that's all--now hurry." + +"Who is it that's coming?" interposed Helena quickly, as Madison +started away from the window. + +Madison grinned. + +"Some friends of the Hopper's. Mr. and Mrs. Thankoffering--you'll like +them immensely, Helena. The lady walks quite well now, and--" + +"Walks!" exclaimed the Flopper, who evidently had not assimilated +Madison's previous reference to Mrs. Thornton. "De lady dat I come wid +in de private car--_walks_?" + +"Of course," said Madison pleasantly. + +"Cured? All cured?" gasped the Flopper. + +"Of course," said Madison again--complacently. + +"Say," said the Flopper, "say, I'm goin' dippy. Another one de same as +de kid, Doc?" + +"Same as the kid, Flopper--faith." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper helplessly. + + + + +--XII-- + +"SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY" + + +By the wheel-chair, Mrs. Thornton, her husband and Doc Madison were in +earnest conversation--and around them was a mass of people. The crowd +had divided into two, or, rather, was constantly coming and going +between two points--young Holmes and Mrs. Thornton--and still the +hysteria was upon men and women, still that wavering, moanlike sound +floated over the lawn. + +"I am stunned and stupified," Madison was saying, and his hand trembled +visibly in its outflung gesture. "I am not, I am afraid, a man of deep +sensibilities, but I cannot help feeling that I have been permitted, +been chosen even, to witness this sight, a sight that will stay with me +till I die, for some great, ulterior purpose. It's as though this place +were hallowed, set apart; that here, if only one has faith, that man's +miraculous power is boundless--that I should help someway. I--I'm afraid +I don't explain myself well." + +"I know what you mean," Mrs. Thornton returned eagerly. "It is what I +was saying to my husband--to make this place known, to help to bring +suffering people here." + +Madison nodded silently. + +"And if you, who have no personal cause for gratitude, feel like that, +how much more should we who--who--oh, there are no words to tell it--my +heart is too full"--Mrs. Thornton smiled through tears. "Robert, you +said you would do anything." + +"Yes, dear," Thornton answered gravely. "But what? We cannot do things +in a moment. If money--" + +Madison shook his head. + +"It's beyond money," he said. "Money is only a secondary consideration. +It's the needs of the place that are paramount. It's not so much the +bringing of people here--they will hear of what has taken place and will +come of their own accord, they will flock here in numbers as time goes +on. But then--what? What can be done with them in this little village? +For a time perhaps they could be accommodated--but after that they must +be turned away." + +"Turned away!" exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, in a hurt cry. "Turned away from +hope--to bitterness and misery again! No, no, they must not I Why"--she +grasped her husband's arm agitatedly--"why couldn't we buy land and put +little houses upon it where they could stay?" + +Madison leaned suddenly toward her. + +"I believe you've hit on the idea, Mrs. Thornton," he said excitedly. +"Why not? It would be the finest thing that was ever done in the world. +But why not go further--this should not be a private enterprise with +the burden on the few." He turned abruptly to Mr. Thornton. "What a +monument from grateful hearts, what a tribute to that saintly soul a +huge sanatorium, built and properly endowed, would be! And it is +feasible--purely from the voluntary contributions of those who come here +and have money--free as the air to the poor who are sick--free to _all_, +for that matter--no one asked to give--but the poorest would gladly lay +down their mites." + +"Yes--oh, yes!" cried Mrs. Thornton raptly. + +"Yes," admitted Mr. Thornton thoughtfully; "that might be done." + +"There is no doubt of it," asserted Madison enthusiastically. "It needs +but the initiative on the part of some one, on our part, and the rest +will take care of itself. But we must, of course, have the endorsement +of the Patriarch--why not go to the cottage now, at once, and talk it +over?" + +"Can we see _him_?" asked Mrs. Thornton wistfully. "Oh, I would like to +kneel at his feet and pour out my gratitude. But see how all these +people go no nearer than that row of trees, as though love or fear or +reverence kept them from going further, as though it were almost +forbidden, holy ground, as though they were held back by an invisible +barrier in spite of themselves." + +"True," said Madison; "and I sense that very thing myself--all men must +sense it after what has taken place, all must feel the presence of a +power too majestic, too full of awe for the mind to grasp. This +faith"--he threw out his hands in an impotent gesture--"we can only +accept it unquestioningly, as a mighty thing, an actual, living, +existent thing, even if we cannot fully understand. But I feel that with +what we have in mind we have a right to go there now--and we should take +that little lad who was cured as well--and his parents, they should come +too." + +"And shall we see _him_?" Mrs. Thornton asked again tensely. + +"Why, I do not know," Madison replied; "but at least we shall see his +niece, Miss Vail, and it is with her in any case that we would have to +discuss the plan, for the Patriarch, you know, is deaf and dumb and +blind." + +"You know them, don't you?" Thornton inquired. + +Madison smiled, a little strangely, a little deprecatingly. + +"If one can speak of 'knowing' such as they--yes," he answered. "When I +came two weeks ago, the Patriarch was not wholly blind, and he was very +kind to me. I learned to love the gentle soul of the man, and in a way, +skeptical though I was, I felt his power--but I never realized until +this afternoon how stupendous, how immeasurable it was." + +"Let us go to the cottage, then," said Thornton. "Naida, dear, let me +help you; it is quite a little distance and--" + +She put out her hands in a happy, intimate way to hold him off. + +"You can't realize it, Robert, can you? That dear, practical business +head of yours makes it even harder for you than it is for me--and I can +hardly realize it myself. But I _am_ cured, dear, and I'm well and +strong, and I don't need any help--why, Robert, I am going to help you +now, instead of always being a source of worry and anxiety to you. Come, +let us go." + +"If you will walk slowly," suggested Madison, "I'll speak to the little +Holmes boy and his parents, and bring them with us." + +He moved away as he spoke--in the direction of a racking cough, that +rose above the confused, murmuring, whispering, shaken voices on every +hand; and in a little knot of people he was, for a moment, pressed close +against Pale Face Harry. + +"All right," whispered Pale Face Harry, "it's in your pocket now--but, +say, no more runs like that for me, I'm all in. I thought sure I was +cured myself--I hadn't coughed for--" + +"Never mind about that now," said Madison rapidly. "I want the crowd +kept away from the doors of the bank vault if they show any tendency to +get too close, though I don't think that'll happen--they're too numbed +and scared yet. But you know the game. Keep the awe going and the 'holy +ground' signs up. Anybody that steps across that stretch between the +trees and the cottage on and after the present date of writing does it +with bowed head and his shoes off--get the idea?" + +Pale Face Harry grinned. + +"That's easy," he said. "Anything'd steer 'em now--they're like sheep. +Leave it to me to keep the soft pedal on." + +With a nod, Madison turned away, the tense expression on his face +assumed again--and presently he was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, and +patting the boy's head in a clumsy, overwrought way. + +"I--I don't dar'st to go," said Mrs. Holmes, clutching wildly at the +boy, still sobbing, still beyond control of herself. + +"But Mrs. Thornton is going," said Madison gently, "and I know your +gratitude is no less than hers--it couldn't be less with this little lad +restored to you. I am sure you want to show it--don't you?" + +"I think we'd orter go, ma," said Mr. Holmes uneasily. + +The boy put his hand in Madison's. + +"I want to go, mister," he choked. "Take me, mister, won't you?" + +"Yes, I think we'd orter go," repeated Mr. Holmes. "Come along, ma," he +said, taking his wife's arm. + +It was a strange group--the Thorntons, rich, refined, to whom luxury was +necessity; the Holmes, poor, uncultured, coarsely dressed; and Madison, +who walked with set face, head lowered a little, his pace slowing +perceptibly, humbly it seemed, the nearer he came to the cottage door. +Neither Thornton, nor Holmes, nor Holmes' wife spoke. Mrs. Thornton's +arm was flung around the boy's shoulder, and he kept looking up into her +tearful face--there was a bond between them that, young as he was, held +him in its thrall. Out across the lawn, dotted here and there, in knots +and groups and little crowds, men and women stopped where they stood and +watched, making no effort to follow--and some, at the renewed evidence +of the miraculous, once more so vividly before their eyes, dropped again +to their knees. + +They reached the door, and Madison drew back a little and with the +others waited silently after he had knocked. Then the door opened +slowly, and Helena, slim and girlish in her simple white dress, appeared +upon the threshold. Her great dark eyes travelled slowly from one to +another, and then her face lighted with a gentle smile. + +"Miss Vail," said Madison diffidently, "this is Mrs. Thornton and her +husband, and the little lad, with his parents, who owes so much to the +Patriarch, and they have come to--" + +"To try and say a little of what is in their hearts"--Mrs. Thornton +stepped impulsively forward and held out her hands to Helena--and then, +breaking down suddenly, she began to sob, and the two were in each +other's arms, Mrs. Thornton's head buried on Helena's shoulder, Helena's +face lowered, her brown hair mingling with the gold of the other's, her +arms about the frail form that shook convulsively. + +Doc Madison shot a covert glance at the three behind him--Thornton, and +Holmes, and Mrs. Holmes. Holmes, with downcast eyes, was shuffling +awkwardly from foot to foot; Mrs. Holmes, her woman's instinct touched, +was watching the scene with face aglow, her eyes moist anew; Thornton +was staring fascinated at Helena, a sort of breathless, wondering +admiration in his eyes. + +Madison involuntarily followed Thornton's look; then stole a glance back +at Thornton again--Thornton was still gazing intently at Helena. + +"Say," observed Madison to himself, "the longer you live the more you +learn, don't you? That's the kind of stuff Helena wears from now on, the +clinging white with the bare throat effect and all that. Why, say, like +that she's what the poets call radiantly divine--eh, what?" + +Mrs. Thornton raised her head, and her hands creeping to Helena's face +brushed the brown hair tenderly back from the white forehead. + +"Oh, how good and sweet and pure you are!" she murmured brokenly. + +A quick, sudden flush, passing to all but Madison as one of demure and +startled modesty, swept in a crimson tide to Helena's face. + +"You--you must not say that," she faltered, shaking her head. "I--you +must not say that." + +Mrs. Thornton smiled at her--and slipped her arm affectionately around +Helena's waist. + +"I could not help it, dear," she whispered. "It came spontaneously. And +it makes me so happy to find you like this, and it makes it so much more +a joy in doing what we have come to talk to you about." + +"What you have come to talk to me about?"--Helena, steadying herself, +repeated the words almost composedly. + +"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Thornton, an eagerness in her voice again. +"But--may we come in? Is it--" + +"All may come in here," Helena answered softly, "and"--her eyes met +Thornton's fixed gaze and dropped quickly--"please come in," she ended +abruptly. + + + + +--XIII-- + +REAL MONEY + + +The two women passed inside the cottage, Mrs. Thornton holding out her +hand again to the little lad; while Holmes and his wife followed +hesitantly, awed. In the rear, Thornton grasped Madison's arm suddenly. + +"I never saw such a beautiful face," he whispered tensely. "It's +wonderful." + +"Yes," assented Madison. "But everything here seems full of a rare, +strange beauty, a hallowed something--it lifts one beyond material +things. You _feel_ it--a great, calm solemnity all about you." + +He closed the door softly behind him. + +Mrs. Thornton's eyes swept questioningly, anxiously and a little timidly +about the plain, simple, quiet room; and then she spoke, her voice +unconsciously hushed: + +"He--he is not here?" + +Helena shook her head, as she led Mrs. Thornton to a chair. + +"Not now," she said in a low voice. "The strain of this afternoon has +left him very weary and very tired--much has gone out of him in response +to the faith he felt but could not see." + +"But he knows?" said Mrs. Thornton eagerly, reaching for Helena's hand. +"He knows?" + +"Yes," Helena replied quietly, "he knows. He always knows." She nodded +gravely to the others. "Please sit down," she said. + +Madison quietly took the chair nearest the table; Thornton one a little +in front of Madison and nearer his wife and Helena, who were close by +the big, open fireplace; the two Holmes sat down on the edges of chairs +a little behind Madison; while young Holmes knelt, his arms in Mrs. +Thornton's lap, his head turned a little sideways, his chin cupped in +one hand, as he stared breathlessly around him. + +It was the boy who broke the momentary silence. + +"Ain't that other fellow here, neither--the fellow that was worse'n me?" +he whispered. + +Helena leaned toward him. + +"Yes; he is here," she answered, smiling sweetly. "He is with the +Patriarch." She lifted her head to include the others in her words. "It +is very wonderful, his gratitude. He will not leave the Patriarch--he +says he will not leave him ever, that all he has to give for the debt he +owes is the life that the Patriarch gave back to him, and he will listen +to nothing but that he should devote that life to the Patriarch's +service." + +"I'd like to, too," said young Holmes, with a quick flush on his face. +"Can I, miss--can I?" + +"Perhaps," said Helena gently. "Who knows what there may be that you can +do?" + +"Dear boy," said Mrs. Thornton, stroking the lad's head. She looked +quickly at Helena. "We, too, are grateful, more than there are words to +tell, and we, too, would like to show our gratitude. We are rich and +money--" + +"Money!" the word came in shocked, hurt interruption from Helena, as a +signal flashed from Madison's eyes. "The Patriarch does not do these +things for money--it would be a bitter grief to him to be misjudged in +that way, even in thought. It is the love in his heart for the suffering +ones, and his power goes out to all who ask it freely, with no thought +of recompense or gain, and his joy and happiness is the joy and +happiness of others." + +"And right off the bat too!" said Madison admiringly to himself. "Now, +wouldn't that get you! Say, could you beat it--could you beat it!" + +"Oh, I did not mean that," said Mrs. Thornton almost piteously. "Please, +please do not think so, for I know so well that money in a personal +sense could have no place here, that it would indeed be sacrilege. It is +in quite another way--Robert, Mr. Madison, you explain what we would +like to do." + +It was Madison who explained. + +"It is Mrs. Thornton's idea, Miss Vail," he said earnestly; "and it is +one that I know will realize the Patriarch's dearest wish--to extend +his sphere of helpfulness to others, to reach out to all who are +stricken and have faith to come. I remember his writing that on the +slate, which he used for conversation before his sight was completely +taken from him. I remember the words as though they were before me now: +'I have dreamed often of a wider field, of reaching out to help the +thousands beyond this little town--it would be wondrous joy.'" + +"Yes?" said Helena in a suppressed voice. + +"In a way," Madison went on gravely, "his dream is already realized. +What has happened here this afternoon will in a few hours be known to +the whole civilized world, and there will be no room for incredulity or +doubt--on whatever ground people see fit to base their belief, they must +still believe; and, believing, they will come here in ever increasing +numbers--but this little village is totally inadequate to accommodate +them. At first, yes, as I said to Mrs. Thornton; but afterwards--no. +Mrs. Thornton's idea, Mr. Thornton's idea and my own, if I may say so, +is to build and endow a great sanatorium that, in consonance with the +Patriarch's ideals, shall be free to all--and we feel that the money for +this purpose will come gladly and spontaneously, as it so appropriately +should come, from those who find joy and peace and health again at the +Patriarch's hands." + +Helena half rose from her chair, as she stole a veiled glance at +Madison. + +"It would be wonderful," she said, with a little catch in her voice. +"And he--it would be the one thing in the world for him. But--but it +would take a great deal of money." + +"Yes," said Madison slowly; "at least half a million." + +Thornton turned toward Madison. + +"As much as that?" he asked tentatively. + +"I should say so," replied Madison thoughtfully. "You see, it's the +endowment after all that is the most important. Say that the building +and equipment cost only a hundred thousand, that would only leave an +income, from the other four hundred thousand at six per cent., of +twenty-four thousand dollars--not enough in itself even, but it would be +augmented of course by the contributions that would still go on." + +Thornton nodded his head. + +"That is so," he agreed; "but there is the time to consider--it would +take a long time to raise that amount." + +"No," said Madison. "A few months at the outside. Thornton"--he reached +out and laid his hand impressively on the other's sleeve--we are not +dealing with ordinary things here--we have witnessed this afternoon a +sight that should teach us that. Here, in this very room, beside us now, +your wife, that little boy, is evidence of power beyond anything we have +ever known before. Have we not that same power to count on still? It +would be an ingrate heart indeed that, owing all, returned nothing." + +"Yes," murmured Mrs. Thornton. "Mr. Madison is right. I know it, I feel +it--the money will come faster than we have any idea of." + +Madison smiled at her quietly. + +"It will come," he said. "People will give their money, their jewels, +anything, and give joyfully--and until the amount in hand is large +enough to warrant beginning operations, Miss Vail naturally will be its +guardian." + +"I?" said Helena hesitatingly. "I--I am only a girl, I would not know +what to do." + +"You would not have to do anything, Miss Vail," Madison informed her +reassuringly. "When the time comes for advice, the making of plans and +the carrying of them out, the brightest minds in this country will be +offered freely and voluntarily, you will see." + +"And meanwhile," inquired Thornton--he had been studying Helena's +profile intently, "would you propose keeping the contributions here?" + +"Of course!" said Madison. "And not only here, but openly displayed as +an added incentive for others to give--if added incentive be needed. +Here, for instance"--he rose as he spoke, went to the mantel over the +fireplace and lifted down a quaint, japanned box, fashioned in the shape +of a little chest, which he placed upon the table. "And here, too"--he +crossed to the bookshelves in the alcove, and took down a very old, +flexible-covered book. "Once," he said, "the Patriarch showed me this. +It was a blank book originally, half of it is blank still; but in the +front, in the Patriarch's own writing, is an essay he wrote in the years +gone by on 'The Power of Faith'--what could be more fitting than that +the remaining pages should be filled with a record of the contributions +to that faith?" He laid the book on the table beside the little chest, +and sat down again. "There is no display, no ornamentation, no attempt +at anything of that kind--it is simplicity, those things serving which +are first at hand--as it seems to me it should be--those who give record +their names and gifts in this book--the little chest to hold the gifts +is open, free to the inspection of all." + +"But is that wise?" demurred Thornton. "So large a sum of money as must +accumulate to be left openly about? Would it not be a temptation to some +to steal? Might it not even endanger Miss Vail and the Patriarch +himself--subject them, indeed, to attack?" + +"I get your idea," said Madison to himself--while he gazed at Thornton +in pained surprise; "but there'll never be more than the day's catch in +the box at a time, though of course you don't know that. You see, we'll +empty it every night, and start it off fresh every morning, with a +trinket or two put back for bait. I'm glad you mentioned it though, it's +a little detail I mustn't forget to speak to the Flopper about." But +aloud he said, and there was a sort of shocked awe in his voice: +"Steal--_here_! In this sacred place! No man would dare--the most +hardened criminal would draw back. Why do even we who sit here speak as +we have been speaking with hushed and lowered voices?--that very sense +of a presence unseen around us, that hovers over us, is a mightier +safeguard than the strongest bolts and locks, than the steel-barred +vaults of any bank. It would seem indeed to profane our own faith even +to entertain such an idea--to me this place is a solemn shrine, and +there is only purity and faith and stillness here, the dwelling place of +a power as compassionate as it is mighty." + +Madison stopped abruptly--and a silence fell. Each seemed busy with +their own thoughts. About them was quiet, stillness, peace--twilight was +falling, and a soft, mellow light was in the room. + +"No one would dare"--the words came from Mrs. Thornton in almost +breathless corroboration, almost of their own accord it seemed, as +though heavy upon her lay the solemnity of her surroundings. + +Madison's hand went to his pocket--slowly he drew out his check-book and +laid it upon the table. + +"I am not a rich man"--his voice was very low, very earnest--"but I feel +that this is something deeper, grander, bigger than anything the world +perhaps has ever known before; something higher and above one's own +self; it seems as though here were the chrysalis that, once developed to +its perfect state, would sweep pain and sorrow from suffering humanity; +it is as though a new, glad era had dawned for all mankind. I am glad +to give and humbly proud to have a part in this." He took out his +fountain pen, opened the check-book, and began to write. + +Thornton leaned forward a little, watching him. + +Silence fell again--there was no sound save the almost inaudible +scratching of Madison's pen. Upon Mrs. Thornton's face was a happy, +radiant smile; Helena's face was impassive, but in the dark eyes lurked +a puzzled light; the two Holmes sat awkwardly, still upon the edges of +their chairs, gazing at their son across the room, incredulously, as +though they still could not believe--and occasionally Mrs. Holmes wiped +her eyes. + +Madison's pen moved on: "Pay to the order of Miss Helena Vail the sum of +ten thousand dollars." He carefully inscribed the amount in numerals in +the lower left-hand corner. "Honest," he confided to himself, as he +signed the check, "I feel so philanthropic I could almost make myself +believe I had this money in the bank." He tore the check from its stub, +and, standing up, handed it to Helena. "I am not a rich man, Miss Vail, +as I said," he smiled gravely, "but I can give this, and I give it with +great joy in my heart." + +Helena took the check, glanced at it, gasped a little, lifted her eyes, +an instant's mocking glint in them, and veiled them quickly with her +long lashes. + +"No"--Madison's hand, palm up, went out protestingly--"no, do not thank +me--it is little enough." He sat down again, drew the Patriarch's blank +book toward him, and, on the line beneath the one where the Patriarch +had ended his essay with the words, "such is the power of faith," wrote +his name and set down the amount of his contribution after it. + +"Ten thousand dollars!"--it was Mrs. Thornton speaking, as she took the +check from Helena. She turned quickly to her husband. "Robert, have you +your check-book here?" + +Thornton shook his head. + +"No, dear," he said. "I'm afraid I haven't." + +"Well, it doesn't matter," said Mrs. Thornton brightly. "You can use one +of Mr. Madison's checks and write the name of your own bank on +it--you've often done that, you know." + +"A suggestion," said Madison to himself, "for which I thank you, Mrs. +Thornton--it sounds so much less crude coming from you than from me." +But aloud he said courteously, "Take my pen, Mr. Thornton." + +"Thank you," said Thornton, as Madison placed it in his hand. + +Mrs. Thornton and her husband had their heads together now, and were +whispering--Thornton with his eyes on Helena, who sat with lowered head, +twirling Madison's check in her hands. Then Thornton drew the check-book +toward him, scratched out the printed name of the bank that it bore, +wrote in another, and went on filling out the check. + +"Eeny-meeny-miny-mo," said Madison to himself. "The suspense is awful. +How much does he raise the ante? Next to the miracle, this is the first +real thrill I've had--I feel like an elevator starting down quick." + +As Madison had done, Thornton tore out the check and handed it to +Helena. Helena stared at it, lifted her eyes to Thornton, flushed--and +looked down at the check again. + +"_Fifty thousand_," she murmured breathlessly. + +"Splendid!" cried Madison enthusiastically, rising from his chair and +pushing the newly established record of contributions toward Thornton. +"Splendid! There's sixty thousand of the five hundred already. +Splendid!" + +Young Holmes ran toward his parents. + +"I want to give too, dad," he whispered. "I want to give too." + +"Reckon so," said Holmes, getting up heavily. "Reckon so--an' I was +a-goin' to. I ain't got much though," he added timorously, as his hand +went into his pocket. + +There was a little exclamation from Helena, and she moved a step forward +as though to interpose. Madison looked at her quickly--and quietly +stepped around the table, placing himself between her and Holmes; and, +facing Holmes, leaned over the table from the far side toward the other. + +"It's not the amount, Holmes," he said kindly. "In the broad, true sense +the amount counts for nothing--all cannot give the same." + +"Yes," said Holmes. "Reckon that's the way I feel." He counted the bills +in his hand, and dropped them into the little japanned box; then +scrawled his name in the book beneath Thornton's, adding the +amount--eight dollars. + +Madison looked around the group benignantly. + +"I think they should know out there what we have done," he said, +pointing toward the lawn. "Let us go and tell them, not in any set +speech, but just simply--each of us speaking to a few--the few will tell +others. Shall we go?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Thornton. "Yes; let us tell them." She turned to Helena +and kissed her. "Try and come often to see me, dear--we shall be here +now for a little while at least. Is it asking too much? Robert will +bring you back and forth from the village. And perhaps, if I may, I will +come out here to see you--may I?" + +"I shall be very glad to do as my wife suggests," said Thornton, holding +out his hand. "You will come, Miss Vail?" + +"You are very good, both of you," Helena answered simply. She raised her +eyes to Thornton--her hand was still in his. "Yes, I will try to come." + +"Oh, break away!" muttered Madison impatiently--but silently. He stepped +to the door and opened it. "Will you lead the way, Mrs. Thornton?" he +said calmly. + +Thornton and his wife passed out; and the Holmes, with clumsy, earnest +words upon their lips to Helena, followed. Madison hung back--then +stepped quickly to Helena. + +"Tear up that check of mine so small you can't find the pieces, Helena," +he said hurriedly; "and send Thornton's right off to any old bank you +like in New York. Endorse it, and write them a note saying you wish to +open an account. Enclose your signature, and tell them to mail back the +bank-book, a check-book, deposit slips and all that. They'll know by the +newspapers that Thornton's subscribed fifty thousand before they get the +check, and they'll feel honored to be your depository. Do it to-night, +understand?" + +"Yes," said Helena, nodding her head. "I'll see to it all right." Then, +a little perturbed: "But those poor Holmes and their eight dollars, Doc, +I--" + +"Now don't be greedy, Helena," said Madison cheerfully. "You mustn't +expect everybody to hand out ten and fifty thousand, just because +Thornton and I did--try and appreciate the little things of life too." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Helena angrily. "Doc Madison, I'd like to--" + +"Yes, all right, of course," interrupted Madison, grinning. "Good-by, +that's all--I'm off--see, they're waiting for me"--and leaving Helena +with an outraged little flush upon her cheek, he hurried through the +door after the others. + + + + +--XIV-- + +KNOTTING THE STRINGS + + +It is a very old saying, and therefore of course indisputably true, that +some have greatness thrust upon them. True of men, it is, in one +instance at least, true of places--Needley, from an unheard of, modest, +innocuous and unassuming little hamlet, leaped in a flash into the focus +of the world's eyes. In huge headlines the papers in every city of every +State carried it on their front pages. And while the first astounding +despatch from the metropolitan newspaper man was being copied by leading +dailies everywhere, there came on top of it, clinching its veracity +beyond possibility of doubt, the news that Robert Thornton, the well +known Chicago multi-millionaire, had given fifty thousand dollars to the +cause. A man, much less a multi-millionaire, does not give fifty +thousand dollars for a bubble, so the managing editors of the leading +dailies rushed for their star reporters--and the star reporters rushed +for Needley--and the red-haired, sorrowful-faced man in the Needley +station grew haggard, tottered on the verge of collapse, and, between +the sheafs of flimsy that the reporters fought for the opportunity of +pushing at him, wired desperately for a relief. + +Needley awoke and came to life--as from the dead. There was bustle, +activity, and suppressed and unsuppressed excitement on every hand--the +Waldorf Hotel once more opened its doors--the Congress Hotel was already +full. + +The reporters interviewed everybody with but one exception--the +Patriarch. + +They interviewed Madison--and Madison talked to them gravely, quietly, a +little self-deprecatingly, a little abashed at the thought of personal +exploitage. + +"I wouldn't be interviewed at all," he told them, "if it were not that +mankind at large is entitled to every bit of evidence that can be +obtained. Yes; I gave what I could afford, but it was Holmes, a poor +man, who gave most of all--have you seen him? Myself? What does that +matter? I am unknown, my personality, unlike Mr. Thornton's, can carry +no weight. I am, I suppose, what you might call a rolling stone, a world +wanderer. My parents left me a moderate fortune, and I have travelled +pretty well and pretty constantly all over the world during the last +twelve or fifteen years. How did I come to Needley? Well, you can call +it luck, or something more than that, whichever way it appeals to you. I +was feeling seedy, a little off-color, and I started down for a rest and +lay-off in Maine. I happened to ask a man in Portland if he knew of a +quiet place. He meant to be humorous, I imagine. He said Needley was the +quietest place he knew of. I took him at his word." + +"But how do you account for these miraculous cures?" they asked. + +"You have seen them--the results," Madison replied. "You know the cures +to be living, vital, irrefutable facts--don't you?" + +"Yes," they agreed. + +"Then," said Madison, "there can be but one answer--faith. There is no +other--faith. Are we not, in view of what has happened, of what exists +before our very eyes, forced to the belief that faith is the greatest +thing, the most potential factor in the world?" + +"And do you believe then that all who come here will be cured?" + +Madison shook his head. + +"Ah, no," he said; "far from it. Many will come with but the semblance +of faith, and for those there can be no cure--that is evident on the +face of it, is it not?" + +They interviewed Thornton--and Thornton, too, talked to them, but the +very presence of Mrs. Thornton was weightier far than words. + +They interviewed the Holmes, and they interviewed Needley individually +and collectively; and they interviewed Helena--but they did not +interview the Patriarch. Here Helena barred their way--they were free to +enter the cottage, to copy the names, the record of gifts inscribed in +the book, already a long list for Needley had required no other +incentive to give than the example that had been set--but that was all. +Quietly, with demure simplicity, Helena, prompted by Madison, like a +priestess who guards some holy, inner shrine, told them that sensational +notoriety had no place there--and the notoriety for that very cause +became the greater! Not that they were denied a sight of the Patriarch's +venerable and saintly form--they were permitted to catch glimpses of him +on the beach, on the lawn, walking with bowed head in meditation, a +figure whose simple majesty inspired words and columns of glowing +tribute--but from personal contact, Helena and the Flopper, always in +attendance, warded them off; retreating always to the privacy of the +cottage, to the inner rooms. + +All this had taken four days; and now, on the fourth day, there came to +Needley the vanguard of those who sought this new healing power--just a +few of them, two or three, like far, outflung skirmishers evidencing the +presence of the army corps to follow. With the reporters, as far as +Madison was concerned, it was simple enough; he had but to let them go +their way, to let them revel in the stories that were on every tongue, +to let them view with their own eyes _facts_, while he, modestly and +diffidently, full of quiet earnestness, effaced himself, never thrusting +himself forward, talking to them only when they pressed him--but the +handling of the sufferers who would flock to Needley in response to a +newspaper publicity and endorsement that had been beyond his wildest +dreams, was quite another matter. Madison viewed the first +arrivals--brought in from the station on cot beds to the Waldorf +Hotel--and retired to his room in the Congress Hotel to wrestle with the +niceties and minutiae of the problem. + +"You see," said Madison to the tip of his cigar, as he tilted back his +chair and extended his legs full length with his heels comfortably up on +the table edge, "you see, I believe in faith all right--and that's no +josh. But the trouble with faith is that it's about the scarcest article +on earth--and I haven't got any more Floppers to lead the way." Madison +adroitly sent the cigar ash through the window with a tap of his +forefinger on the body of the cigar--he frowned, and for a long time sat +musingly silent. Then he spoke again; this time addressing the toes of +his boots: "With the house sold out for the season, the box-office doing +itself proud and the audience crazy over the first two acts, how about +Act Three--h'm?--how about Act Three? Kind of a delicate proposition, +the staging of Act Three--and it's time for the curtain to go up. I can +hear 'em stamping out front now. I can't pull off any more orgies like +last Monday afternoon, even if I wanted to--but everybody's got to have +a run for their money. Say, how about Act Three?" + +Madison burned up quite a little tobacco in the interval before supper, +and quite a little more afterward before the setting for his perplexing +"Third Act" appeared to unfold itself satisfactorily before his +mind--indeed, it was close onto half past ten when, by a roundabout +way, he very cautiously and silently approached the Patriarch's cottage. + +In the front of the cottage, the Shrine-room, as he christened it, and +the Patriarch's sleeping room were both dark. Madison passed around to +the beach side--here, Helena's room was dark too, but in the Flopper's +window, the end room next to the kitchen and woodshed, there was a +light. The night was warm, and, though the shade was drawn, the window +was open. Madison whistled softly, and the Flopper stuck out his head. + +"Hello, Flopper," said Madison; "come out here--I want to have a talk +with you. Helena in bed?" + +"No; she's out," replied the Flopper. + +"Well, hurry up!" said Madison. "Come around in front by the trellis +where we can see the other fellow first if anybody happens to be +strolling about." + +Madison withdrew from the window and walked around to the front of the +cottage. Here, a few yards from the porch, by the trellis, already +beginning to be leafy green, was a rustic bench on which he seated +himself. The moon was not full, but there was light enough to enable him +to see across the lawn through the interposing row of maples, and, +hidden by the shadows himself, the seat strategetically met his +requirements. + +Presently, the Flopper came out of the front door and joined him. + +"Say, Doc," announced the Flopper abruptly, "de Patriarch's been askin' +fer youse yesterday an' to-day." + +"Asking?" repeated Madison. + +"Sure," said the Flopper. "He can scrawl if he is blind, can't he? He +scrawls yer name on de slate. We can't tell him nothin', an' he's kinder +got de fidgets like he t'inks youse had flown de coop." + +"That's so," said Madison. "It is rather difficult to communicate with +him, isn't it? I guess we'll have to get him some raised letters." + +"What's them?" inquired the Flopper. + +"I don't know exactly," Madison answered. "I never saw any, but I +believe they have such things. Been asking for me, has he? Well, I'll +fix it to see him to-morrow. Where did you say Helena had gone?" + +"I said she was out," said the Flopper. "If you ask me where, I'd say de +same place as last night an' de night before--down to dat private car +wid his nibs. Say, dere's some class to dat guy all right, an' I guess +Helena ain't got her eyes shut." + +"Hey!" ejaculated Madison. "What do you mean?" + +"Well, he's got de rocks, ain't he?" declared the Flopper. "Why +shouldn't she be after him? Dat's wot we're here fer, ain't it, de whole +bunch of us?--an' she ain't t'rowin' us, is she, if she sees a chanst to +pick up somet'ing on her own?" + +Madison turned quickly on the Flopper. + +"You mean," he said sharply, "that there's something going on between +Helena and Thornton--already?" + +"Aw, stop kiddin'!" said the Flopper. "Already! Wot's 'already' got to +do wid it? We ain't none of us church members, are we? Say, where'd you +pick up Helena yerself--and how long did it take youse? I don't know +whether dere's anyt'ing goin' on or not--mabbe she's only gettin' +lonely--youse ain't hung around her much lately, Doc." + +Madison laughed suddenly. + +"You're talking through your hat, Flopper," he said shortly. "You don't +know Helena." + +"It's a wise guy dat knows skirts," said the Flopper profoundly; then, +with something approaching a sigh: "Say, Doc, dere's a lalapazoozoo, a +peach down here." + +"Hullo!" exclaimed Madison, shooting a hurried and critical glance at +the Flopper in the moonlight. "What's this, Flopper--what's this? What +have you been up to? You're supposed to be attending strictly to +business." + +"An' you needn't t'ink I ain't," asserted the Flopper. "But I can't stop +de town fallin' over itself to bring de whole farmyard, an' eggs, an' +butter, an' flour, an' everyt'ing else out here every mornin', can I? +She's blown in twice wid cream fer de Patriarch." + +"What's her name?" inquired Madison quizzically. + +"Mamie Rodgers," said the Flopper. "She says her old man keeps a store +in de village." + +"I know her," nodded Madison. "Pretty girl and all right, Flopper. But +mind what you're doing, that's all. I don't want any complications to +queer things around here--understand? But let's get down to the business +that I came out about--the lay from now on. You can put Helena wise." + +"Sure," said the Flopper earnestly. + +"Well then, listen," said Madison. "The patients have begun to +arrive--there were three of them in to-day. There's no more circus +parades--everything's under the tent after this. I want you to wean the +Patriarch entirely from that front room--that's to be free for anybody +to enter so's they can drink in atmosphere--and see the contribution +box. But they don't see the Patriarch. Get his armchair into his own +room, make him comfortable there--get the idea? Now, there's no +consultation hours--the Patriarch can't be seen just by asking for +him--the only chance they get at the Patriarch is by an exercise of +patience that'll work their faith up to a pitch that'll do them some +good. The harder it is to get a thing, the more it's worth and the more +you want it--that's the principle. See?" + +"Sure," said the Flopper, licking his lips. + +"Sometimes," Madison went on, "you're to keep the Patriarch under cover +for two or three days, while they hang around working themselves into a +frenzy. And when they do see him they have to scramble for it. You don't +lead him out to them--ever. Make them waylay him when you take him for +a walk--make them crawl and hop and show they've got faith, make them +believe they've got faith themselves--we'll get some more cures, or +near-cures anyway, that way, and we won't get them any other way, and +we've got to have some sort of cures coming along fairly regularly. Do +you get me, Flopper? If there's a party on a cot a hundred yards away +and he begs you to bring the Patriarch to him, say him nay. Everybody +has got to get into the reserved paddock by themselves--tell them that +no man can be cured who has not got the faith to reach the Patriarch by +himself--tell them to get up and _walk_ to him--tell them what you did." + +"Swipe me!" said the Flopper. "Say, Doc, youse are de one an' only. I +gotcher--put it up to _dem_ everytime." + +"Exactly," said Madison. "It's their move every minute--make them feel +that if they don't get what they're after it's their own fault--that +it's their own lack of faith that's to blame. And the longer they have +to wait to see the Patriarch, the more they become impressed that faith +is necessary, and--oh, well, psychology is the greatest jollier of them +all." + +"Eh?" inquired the Flopper. "I ain't on dere, Doc." + +"It's very simple," smiled Madison, "They'll want to convince themselves +that they _have_ got faith, that it's all bottled up and ready to have +the cork drawn when called for, and they'll prove it to themselves by +laying an offering upon the shrine as evidence of faith _before_ the +goods are delivered." + +"I gotcher!" said the Flopper enthusiastically. "Why say, Doc, dat's de +way I'd do meself--swipe me, if I wouldn't!" + +"That's the way nearly everybody would do," said Madison, laughing. +"There's at least a few similar kinks common to our noble race--we're +busy most of the time trying to fool ourselves one way or another. Well, +that's about all. I can't lay out a programme for every minute of the +day--you and Helena have got to use your heads and work along that +general idea. You play up your gratitude strong. And, oh yes--keep the +altar box well baited. Let Helena put some of her near-diamond rings and +joujabs in until we collect some genuine ones--and then keep the genuine +ones going--change every day for variety, you know. And take the silver +money out every time you see any in--not that we scorn it in the great +aggregate, far from it--it's just psychology again, Flopper. I went to +church once and sat beside a duck with a white waistcoat and chop +whiskers, who wore the dollar sign sticking out so thick all over him +that you couldn't see anything else; and when it came time for +collection he peeled a bill off a roll the size of a house, and waited +for the collection plate to come along. But he got his eye on the plate +a couple of pews ahead and it was full of coppers and chicken feed, and +he did the palming act with the bill slicker than a faro dealer--and +whispered to me to change a quarter for him." + +"And did you?" asked the Flopper anxiously. + +"Oh, wake up, Flopper!" grinned Madison; then, suddenly: "Hullo! Who's +that?" + +Across the lawn, coming through the row of maples from the direction of +the wagon track, appeared two figures. + +"Dat's who," said the Flopper, after gazing an instant. "It's Helena an' +Thornton." + +"So it is," agreed Madison. "Get behind the trellis here then--it +wouldn't do for him to see me out here at this time of night." + +They rose noiselessly from the bench, and slipped quickly behind the +trellis. Toward them, walking slowly came the two figures, Helena +leaning on Thornton's arm. Thornton was talking, but in too low a tone +to be overheard. Then a silence appeared to fall between the two, and it +was not until they reached the porch, close to Madison and the Flopper, +that either spoke again. + +Then Thornton held out his hand. + +"Good-night, Miss Vail--and good-by temporarily," he said. "I suppose I +shall be gone four or five days; I'm going up on the morning train, you +know. I wish you'd go as often as you can to see Naida in the car while +I'm away--will you? Her condition worries me, though she insists that +she is completely cured, and she will not listen to any advice. I have +an idea that she has overtaxed herself--apart from her hip disease, her +heart was in a very critical state. You'll go to her, won't you?" + +"Yes," said Helena, "of course, I will." + +Their voices dropped lower, and for a moment only a murmur reached +Madison; and then, with another "Good-night, Miss Vail," Thornton +started back across the lawn. + +Madison could hear Helena fumbling with the door latch, and by the time +she had succeeded in opening the door the retreating figure of Thornton +was a safe distance away. Madison called in a whisper: + +"Here, Helena! Wait a minute!" + +There was a quick, startled little exclamation from the doorway, and +Helena came out hurriedly from the porch. + +"Who's there?" she cried in a low voice. "Oh"--as they stepped into +view--"you, Doc, and the Flopper! What were you doing behind that +trellis?" + +"Keeping out of Thornton's road," said Madison. "So he's going away, eh? +What for?" + +"Business," replied Helena. "Has to go to some meeting in Chicago--he's +leaving his wife and the private car here. What did you come at this +hour for?" + +"Lines for the next act," said Madison; "but the Flopper's got it all, +and he'll put you on." He stepped toward Helena and slipped his arm +around her waist. "Come on, it's early yet, let's go for a little walk. +The Flopper'll excuse us, and I--" + +"I thought you said," Helena interrupted, disengaging herself quietly, +"that we had to play the game to the limit and take no chances." + +"Well, so I did," admitted Madison, and his arm crept around her again; +"but I guess we've earned a little holiday and--" + +"'Nix on that,' I think was what you said," said Helena with a queer +little laugh, drawing away again. "And I really think you were right, +Doc--we ought to play the game without breaking the rules, and +so--good-night"--and she turned and ran from him into the cottage. + +Madison stared after her in a sort of helpless state of chagrin. + +"Mabbe," said the Flopper, "mabbe she's lonely." + + + + +--XV-- + +A MIRACLE OVERDONE + + +Helena sat in the Patriarch's room, and her piquant little face was +pursed up into a scowl so daintily grim as to be almost ludicrous. The +Patriarch, in his armchair, had been scrawling words upon the slate all +evening--and she had been wiping them off! He scrawled another now--and +mechanically, without looking at it, by way of answer she pressed his +arm to appease him. + +She had been restless all day, and she was restless now. What had +induced her to treat Madison the way she had the night before? Pique, +probably. No; it wasn't pique. It was just getting back at him--and he +deserved it. He hadn't seemed to mind it much, though--he had only +laughed and teased her about it that morning when he had joined the +Patriarch and herself in their walk along the beach. + +With her chin in her hands, she began to study the Patriarch through +half closed eyes--deaf and dumb and blind--and somehow it all seemed +excruciatingly funny and she wanted to laugh hysterically. He seemed to +sense the fact that she was looking at him, and, with quick, instant +intuition, he smiled and reached out his hand toward her. + +Unconsciously, involuntarily, she drew back--then, recovering herself +the next instant, she took his hand. Now, why had she done that? What +was the matter with her? Again she felt that sudden impulse to scream, +or laugh, or shout, or make some noise--it seemed as though she were +penned in, smothered somehow, imprisoned. What _was_ the matter? Nerves? +She had never known what nerves were in all her life! Couldn't she play +the game and act her part without making a fool of herself? She had +played a part all her life, hadn't she? Maybe it was quite a shock to +her system to take a place amongst really good and simple folk! + +She laughed a little shortly--then rose abruptly from her chair, and +began to walk up and down the room. The trouble was that the soft pedal +was getting unbearable. That air of awed hush and solemnity, morning, +noon and night, without anything to relieve it, was just a trifle too +drastic and sudden a change in life for her to accept calmly and swallow +in one dose without feeling any effects from it! If she could be +transported now for an hour, say, to the Roost, or Heligman's and the +turkey trot, or the Rivoli, or any old place--except Needley, Maine! + +"Gee!" said Helena to herself. "If I don't break loose and kick the +traces over for a minute or two, I'll be clawing the bars of a dippy +asylum before I'm through--and just listen to the sweet, girlish +language I'm using--I'd like to bite something!" + +She turned impulsively to the door, stepped out into the hall, and +called the Flopper from his room. + +"Flopper, you go in there and stay with the Patriarch for awhile," she +ordered curtly. "I'm going down on the beach to yell." + +"Yell?" inquired the Flopper, blinking helplessly. + +"I'm going outside to yell--_yell._ You know what 'yell' means, don't +you?" she snapped. + +"Swipe me!" observed the Flopper, gazing at her anxiously. "Skirts is +all de same--youse never know wot dey'll do next. Wot you wanter yell +fer?" + +"You mind your own business and do as you're told!" said Helena tartly. +"Go in there and stay with the Patriarch." + +"Sure," said the Flopper, grinning a little now. "Sure t'ing--but youse +needn't get on yer ear about it. Cheer up, mabbe de Doc'll be out +to-night, an' if he don't hear youse yellin' himself will I tell him +youse are out on de beach t'rowin' a fit?" + +"No," Helena answered sharply; "tell him nothing--I'm out." Then, quite +as quickly, changing her mind: "Yes; tell him I'm down there--or come +and get me yourself"--and she walked abruptly into her own room. + +"Now wot do youse t'ink of dat?" demanded the Flopper of the universe. +He blinked at the door she had closed in his face. "Say," he asserted, +with sublime inconsistency, "if Mamie Rodgers was like all de rest of +dem, I'd t'row up me dukes before de gong rang." The Flopper went into +the Patriarch's room, and took the chair beside the other that Helena +had vacated. "Swipe me, if I wouldn't!" he added fervently, by way of +confirmation. + +Helena, in her own room, opened one of her trunks, lifted out the tray, +worked somewhat impatiently down through several layers of yellow, +paper-covered literature, that would have made the classics on the +Patriarch's bookshelves shrivel up and draw their skirts hurriedly +around them in righteous horror could they but have known or been +capable of such intensely human characteristics, and finally produced a +daintily jewelled little cigarette case and match box. She slammed the +tray back, slammed the cover of the trunk down, snatched up a wrap, +flung it over her head and shoulders--and left the cottage. + +She ran down to the beach at top speed, as if she couldn't get there +fast enough. + +"And now I'm just going to yell and go crazy as much as ever I like!" +panted Helena to the rollers. + +Instead, she sat down with her back to a rock, and opened her cigarette +case. She took out a cigarette, extracted a match from the match box, +lighted the match--and flung both cigarette and match from her. + +"I don't want to be crazy--I don't know what I want," said Helena +petulantly. Her chin went into her hands, and she stared wide-eyed at +the breaking surf. "I wonder what it all means?" she murmured, with a +mirthless little laugh. + +Her thoughts began to run riot. What _did_ it all mean? What was this +faith? There was, there _must_ be something in it. There was the Holmes +boy--suppose it _was_ only some nervous disorder--well, something had +risen superior to whatever it was and had _cured_ him. There was Naida +Thornton--true, she was ill again--her heart, Mr. Thornton had said--but +she could still walk, a thing she had not been able to do for a long +time until she came to Needley. + +Helena laughed again--oh, it was a good game! The Doc had made no +mistake about that--but then, when it came to planting anything the Doc +rarely did make a mistake. Fancy fifty thousand dollars in one haul! +_Fifty thousand in one haul!_ The bank had sent her a passbook with that +amount to her credit. And that was only the beginning--hardly anybody +had come yet, and already there was several hundred dollars more in real +money that she had handed over to Madison from the offering box. + +Money! They'd have more money than they'd know what to do with before +they got through--there was nothing the matter with the game--all there +was to do was to play it to a finish. And there wasn't the slightest +risk about it--everything was given voluntarily. Oh, the game was all +right--but somehow she wasn't happy--not nearly so happy as she had +been in New York, even in lean periods when she and the Doc had been +pressed for money. But, anyway, then they had been together, and fought, +and laughed, and loved, and quarrelled through flush times and bad. + +Maybe that was it! The Doc! Of course, she loved him--she had loved him +ever since she had known him. There was no secret about that--she loved +him fiercely, passionately, more than she loved anything else in the +world, with all the love she was capable of--more than he loved her--he +seemed to accept her, too often, so casually, so indifferently, so much +as a matter of course. He was so confidently and complacently sure of +her--and she was not at all sure of him. She was only sure that he was +quite right in being sure--she couldn't help loving him if she tried. + +She had hardly seen anything of him since that night in the Roost before +he had left for Needley--and he hadn't seemed to care much whether she +did or not. That talk about playing the game and taking no chances was +all bosh--there had been plenty of chances where it wouldn't have hurt +the game any. Perhaps the little jolt she had given him last night, +turning the tables a little, would wake him up a bit. Perhaps, as the +Flopper had said, he would come out to-night, and-- + +"Helena! Helena!" + +Helena sat suddenly upright--the noise of the surf muffled the sound of +the voice, but that was probably Doc now--she could hear footsteps +running from the direction of the cottage. Deliberately, Helena leaned +back again against the rock, took out a cigarette and with no attempt to +shade the flame of the match, rather to use it as a challenging beacon, +held it to the cigarette--but for the second time she flung both match +and cigarette hurriedly away. It wasn't Madison at all--it was only the +Flopper. + +"Say!" gasped the Flopper, blowing hard. "Why can't youse answer when +yer called? Wot you tryin' ter do--light a bonfire ter save yer voice? +Say, youse wanter get a wiggle on--beat it--quick! Dey're after you." + +"What?" cried Helena sharply, jumping to her feet. "After me? Who? What +do you mean?" + +"I dunno," said the Flopper with sudden imperturbability--and evidently +quite pleased with the agitation he had caused. "He talks like his mouth +was full, an' he's got a scare t'rown inter him so's his teeth have got +de jiggles." + +Helena caught the Flopper's arm and shook him angrily. + +"What are you talking about--what is it?" she demanded fiercely. + +"It's de porter from de private car," said the Flopper, wriggling away +from her. "He drove out here. De lady's on de toboggan--sick. She's +askin' fer youse an'--" + +Helena waited for no more. She raced to the cottage and around to the +front. A wagon was standing before the porch; the negro porter on the +seat. + +"What is it, Sam?" she called anxiously, as she came up. "Is Mrs. +Thornton seriously ill?" + +"Yas--yas'um, miss," Sam answered excitedly. "I done feel in mah bones +she's gwine to die. Miss Harvey she done tole me to get a team an' drive +foh you-all like de debbil." + +Without waste of words, Helena clambered in beside him. + +"Then drive," she said shortly. "Drive as fast as you can." + +At first, as they drove along, Helena plied Sam with questions--and then +lapsed into silence. The man did not know very much--only that Mrs. +Thornton had been taken suddenly ill, and that the nurse had sent him on +the errand that had brought him to the cottage. A turmoil of conflicting +emotions filled Helena's mind, obtruding upon her anxiety, for she had +grown to care a great deal for Naida Thornton--this was a complication +that Doc Madison must know about--Thornton had left that morning and was +already far away--the newspaper men, or some of them at least, were +still in the town--and there were so many things else--they all came +crowding upon her, as she clung to her seat in the jolting wagon. But +Doc must know--that rose a paramount consideration. It seemed an age, an +eternity before they stopped finally at the station. + +She sprang out and turned to Sam. + +"Sam," she directed hurriedly, "you go back to the Congress Hotel and +get Mr. Madison. Mr. Madison is a friend of Mr. Thornton's, you know. Go +about it quietly--you needn't let any one know what you came for. You +can tell Mr. Madison what the trouble is--and tell him that I sent you, +and that I am here. Do you understand?" + +"Yas'um, mum," said Sam impressively. "Just you done leab all that to +me, missy." + +Across the track on the siding, the private car was dimly lighted, the +window curtains down. Helena crossed the track and mounted the steps. As +she reached the platform, Miss Harvey, who had evidently heard her +coming, opened the door and drew her quietly inside. + +A glance at the nurse's face brought a sudden chill to Helena's heart. +Miss Harvey, capable, controlled, grave, smiled at her a little sadly. + +"I sent for you, Miss Vail," she said in a low tone, "because Mrs. +Thornton has been asking for you incessantly ever since the attack came +on three-quarters of an hour ago." + +"You mean," said Helena, "that--that there is--" + +"No hope," the nurse completed. "I am afraid there is none--it is her +heart. The condition has been aggravated by her activity during the last +few days since she has been able to walk--though I have done everything +within my power to keep her quiet." Miss Harvey laid her hand on +Helena's arm. "There is one thing, Miss Vail, I feel that I must say to +you, in justice both to you and to myself, before you see her. Whatever +my personal ideas may be of what has taken place here, my professional +duty as a nurse demanded that I send for a doctor at once, and I want +you to know that is what I did, though I have not been successful in +getting one. There is no doctor here, so I telegraphed; but the doctor +at Barton's Mills is away." + +"Yes," said Helena mechanically. + +"I just wanted you to understand," said Miss Harvey. "Will you come and +see Mrs. Thornton now?" + +"Does she know," whispered Helena, as she followed the nurse down the +corridor of the car, "does she know that--how ill she is?" + +"Yes," Miss Harvey answered simply. She stopped before a compartment +door, opened it softly, and, stepping aside, motioned Helena to enter. + +A little cry rose to Helena's lips that she choked back somehow, and a +mist for a moment blinded her eyes--then she was kneeling beside the +brass bed, and was holding in both her own the hand that was stretched +out to her. + +"Helena--dear--I am so glad you came," said Mrs. Thornton faintly. "I--I +am not going to get better, and there are some things I want to say to +you." + +"Oh, but you are," returned Helena quickly, smiling bravely now. "You +mustn't say that." + +Mrs. Thornton shook her head. + +"Dear," she said, "I know. And I know that what I have to say I must +say quickly." Her voice seemed to grow suddenly stronger with a great +earnestness. "Listen, dear. This must not make any difference to this +wonderful work that has just begun here. I was cured of my hip +disease--perfectly cured--no one can deny that--this is my own fault, I +have overdone it--I would not listen to reason--to do what I have done +in the last few days, when for a year and a half I had never moved a +step, was more than my heart could stand. I should have been more +quiet--but I was so glad, so happy--and I wanted to tell everybody--I +wanted all the world to know, so that others could find the joy that I +had found." + +She paused--and Helena sought for words that, somehow, would not come. + +The nurse was bending over the bed on the other side, and Mrs. Thornton +turned her head toward Miss Harvey now. She smiled gently, as though to +rob her words of any possible hurt. + +"Nurse, I want--to be alone with Miss Vail for just a moment." + +Miss Harvey, doubtful, hesitated. + +"Only for a moment," pleaded Mrs. Thornton. "You can stay just outside +the door." + +Reluctantly, Miss Harvey complied, and left the room. + +Mrs. Thornton pressed Helena's hand tightly. + +"Listen, dear--this must not make any difference. It--it is the one +thing that will make me happy now--to know that. I--I have written a +little note to Robert about it, to be given to him. Oh, if I could only +have lived to help--I should have tried so hard to be worthy to have a +part in it. Not like you, dear, with your sweetness and nobleness, for +God seems to have singled you out for this--but just to have had a +little part. How wonderful it would have been, bringing peace and health +and gladness where only sorrow and misery was before, and--and--" + +Mrs. Thornton's eyes closed, and she lay for a moment quiet. + +A blackness seemed to settle upon Helena--and how cold it was! She +shivered. Her dark eyes, wide, tearless now, stared, startled, dazed, at +the white face on the pillow crowned with its mass of golden hair. Her +sweetness! Her nobleness! Helena's lips half parted and her breath came +in quick, fierce, little gasps--it seemed as though she had been struck +a blow that she could not quite understand because somehow it had numbed +her senses--only there was a hurt that curiously, strangely seemed to +mock as it stabbed with pain. + +"There is Robert"--Mrs. Thornton spoke again--"I am sure he will do as I +have asked him to do about this, but--you can have a great deal of +influence with him. It--it perhaps may seem a strange thing to say, but +I pray that you two may be brought very close to each other. Robert +needs a good, true woman so much in his life--and I--we--we--my +illness--we have never had a home in its truest sense. Yes, it is +strange for me perhaps to talk like this--but it is in my heart. I would +like to think of you both engaged in this wonderful work together." + +Again, through exhaustion, Mrs. Thornton stopped--and Helena, from +gazing at the other's pallid countenance in a sort of involuntary, +frightened fascination, dropped her head suddenly upon the bed-spread +and hid her face. + +Mrs. Thornton's hand found Helena's head and rested upon it. + +"I would like to see Robert happy," she murmured, after a little +silence. "Riches do not make happiness--they are so sad and empty a +thing when the heart is empty. I know he would be happy with you--he has +spoken so much of you lately--perhaps--perhaps--" + +Mrs. Thornton's voice was very faint--the words reached Helena plainly +enough as words, but they seemed to reach her consciousness in an +unreal, unnatural, blunted way, coma-like--pregnant of significance, yet +with the significance itself elusive, evading her. + +"A good woman," whispered Mrs. Thornton, "I have tried to be a good +woman--but--but my life, our wealth, our position has made it so +artificial. You have never known these things, dear--and so you are just +as God made you--good woman, so pure, so wonderful in your freshness and +your innocence. Robert's life has been so barren--so barren. I would +like to know that--that it will not always be so. Oh, if it could only +be that you and he should carry on this great, glad work together--and +love should come into his life--and yours--and sunshine--promise me, +dear, that--" + +The voice died away. Helena, with head still buried, waited for Mrs. +Thornton to speak again. It seemed she waited for a great length of +time--and yet there was no such thing as time. It seemed as though she +were transported to a place of great and intense blackness where it was +miserably cold and chill, and she stood alone and lost, and strove to +find her way--and there was no way--only blackness everywhere, +immeasurable. She lifted her head suddenly, desperately, to shake the +unreality from her--and her eyes fell upon the gentle face, peaceful, +smiling, calm, and so _still_--and a startled, frightened cry rang from +her lips. + +There was the quick, hurried rush of some one coming into the room, and +the nurse brushed by her and bent instantly over the bed--after that, +quite soon after that it seemed, and yet it might have been quite a +little while, she found herself outside in the corridor and the nurse +was speaking to her. + +"Sam is still out there," said Miss Harvey gently. "I told him to keep +the team. You cannot help me, and I want you to go home, dear. And will +you ask Sam to go for Mr. Madison at the hotel on the way back--I do not +know who else I can call upon for advice." + +"I've sent for him already," said Helena numbly. + +"Have you, dear?" Miss Harvey said. "That was very thoughtful of +you--I'm sure he'll be here presently then. And now, dear, it is much +better that you should go." + +There were no tears in Helena's eyes as she stepped down from the car +vestibule to the tracks--only a drawn misery in her face. That was Doc +over there, pacing up and down on the platform in the darkness--wasn't +it weird the way his cigar glowed bright and then went out and then +glowed bright again--like a gigantic firefly! + +She was across the tracks before he saw her, then, hurrying forward, he +helped her to the platform. + +"Well?" he asked quickly. + +Helena did not answer. + +Madison took the cigar from his lips, leaned forward, and peered into +Helena's face--then drew back with a low whistle. + +"Dead?" he said. + +Helena nodded. + +"Miss Harvey wants to see you," she said. + +"Say," said Madison slowly, "first crack out of the box this looks bad, +don't it? If this gets around here without a muffler on it, it might +make the railroad companies hang fire with those circulars for excursion +rates to Needley--what?" + +"I--I think I hate you!" Helena cried out suddenly, passionately. +"She's--she's dead--and that's all you think about!" + +Madison stared at Helena for a moment calmly. + +"Now, look here, Helena," said he quietly, "don't get excited. Of +course I'm sorry--I'm not a brute and I've got feelings--but I can't +afford to lose my head. Something's got to be done, and done quick. We +don't want this headlined in every paper in the United States to-morrow +morning--Thornton wouldn't want it either. You say Miss Harvey wants to +see me? Well, that'll help some--she'll probably do as she's told, +and--" + +Madison paused abruptly, gazed abstractedly at the private car across +the tracks on the siding, and pulled at his cigar. + +Helena watched him in silence--a little bitterly. That quick, clever, +cunning brain of his was at work again--scheming--scheming--always +scheming--and Naida Thornton was dead. + +"I'll tell you," said Madison, speaking again as abruptly as he had +stopped. "It's simple enough. There's a westbound train due in an hour +or so--we'll couple the private car onto that and send it right along to +Chicago. What the authorities don't know won't hurt them. There's no +reason for anybody except Thornton to know what's happened till she gets +there--I'll wire him. The main thing is that the car won't be here in +the morning, and that'll take a little of the intimate touch of Needley +off. It might well have happened on her way home--journey too much for +her--left too soon--see? Thornton'll see it in the right light because +he's got fifty thousand dollars worth of faith in what's going on +here--get that? He won't want to harm the 'cause.' There'll be some +publicity of course, we can't help that--but it won't hurt much--and +Thornton can gag a whole lot of it--he'd want to anyway for his own +sake. Now then, kid, there's Sam over there--you pile into the wagon and +go home, while I get busy--and don't you say a word about this, even to +the Flopper." + +And so Helena drove back to the Patriarch's cottage that night, a little +silent figure in the back seat of the wagon--and her hands were locked +tightly together in her lap--and to her, as she drove over the peaceful, +moonlit road, and under the still, arched branches of the trees in the +wood that hid the starlight, came again and again the words of one who +had gone, who perhaps knew better now--"you are as God made you." + + + + +--XVI-- + +A FLY IN THE OINTMENT + + +The days passed. And with the days, morning, noon and night, they came +by almost every train, the sick and suffering, the lame, the paralytics +and the maimed--a steady influx by twos and threes and fours--from north +over the Canadian boundary line, from the far west, and from the +southernmost tip of the Florida coast. No longer on the company's +schedule was Needley a flag station--it was a regular stop, and its +passenger traffic returns were benign and pleasing things in the +auditor's office. And it was an accustomed sight now, many times a +day--what had once been a strange, rare spectacle--that slow procession +wending its way from the station to the town, some carried, some limping +upon crutches, all snatching at hope of life and health and happiness +again. Needley, perforce, had become a vast boarding house, as it +were--there were few homes indeed that did not harbor their quota of +those who sought the "cure." + +But there were others too who came--who were not sick--who had not +faith--who came to laugh and peer and peek. Pleasure yachts dropped +their anchors in the cove around the headland from the Patriarch's +cottage--and their dingeys brought women decked out _de rigeur_ in middy +blouses and sailor collars, and nattily attired gentlemen whose only +claim to seamanship was the clothes, or rather, the costumes that they +wore. + +They came laughing, supercilious, tolerant, contemptuous, pitying the +inanity of those they held less strongly-minded than themselves who +should be taken in by so apparent, glaring and monstrous a fake. They +came because it was the rage, the thing to do, quite the thing to do, +quite a necessary part of the summer's itinerary. But that they, should +they have been sick, would ever have dreamed of coming there was too +perfectly ridiculous an idea for words. How strange a thing is the human +animal! + +They came in their rather cruel, merciless gaiety--and they left sobered +and impressed; the ladies holding their embroidered parasols at a less +jaunty angle; the men with lightened pockets, their names enrolled in +the contribution book in that quiet, simple room, whose door was open, +whose cash-box was unguarded, where none asked them to either enter or +withdraw. They came and found no air of charlatanism such as they had +looked for--only a peaceful, unostentatious, patient air of sincerity +that left them remorseful and abashed. They came and went, a source of +revenue not counted on or thought of before by Madison; but a source +that swelled the coffers, brimming fuller day by day, to overflowing. + +In three weeks from the night of Mrs. Thornton's death, which had had at +least no visible effect on Needley, Needley was metamorphosed--with a +spontaneity, so to speak, that astounded even Madison himself--into +something that approximated very closely in reality the word-picture he +had drawn of it that night in the Roost. Madison looked upon his work +and saw that it was pleasing beyond his dreams. Money was pouring in--no +single breath of suspicion came to disquiet him. Even the cures were +working satisfactorily--even Pale Face Harry, who had become great +friends with the farmer at whose house he boarded, and who now spent +most of his time in the fields, was showing an improvement--Pale Face +Harry coughed less. The Flopper was as happy as a lark--and Mamie +Rodgers blushed now at mention of the name of Coogan. Helena, demure, +adored by all who saw her, went daily about her housework in the +cottage, and waited upon the Patriarch with gentle tenderness; while the +Patriarch, docile, full of supreme trust and confidence in every one, +radiant in Helena's companionship, was as putty in their hands. And so +Madison looked upon his work and saw no flaw--but with the days he grew +ill at ease. + +"It's too easy," he told himself. "I guess that's it--it's too easy. The +whole show runs itself. Why, there's nothing to do but count the cash!" + +And yet in his heart he knew that wasn't it--it was Helena. Helena was +beginning to trouble him a little. She was playing the game all +right--playing it to the limit--and making a hit at every performance. +Her name was on every tongue, and men and women alike spoke of her +sweetness, her goodness, her loveliness. Well, that was all right, +Helena was a star no matter where you put her--but something was the +matter. Helena wasn't the Helena of a month ago back in little old New +York. He hadn't managed to get a dozen words with her since that night +on the station platform, without taking chances and gaining admission to +the cottage through the Flopper's window after dark--and then she had +held him at arm's length. + +"The matter with me?" she had said. "There isn't anything the matter +with me--is there? I'm--I'm playing the game." + +It certainly couldn't be grief over Mrs. Thornton's death--she had begun +to act that way before Mrs. Thornton died--that night when she came home +with Thornton, and he and the Flopper were behind the trellis. Thornton! +Had Thornton anything to do with it, after all? No--Madison had laughed +at it then, and he had much more reason to laugh at it now. Thornton was +still in Chicago, and hadn't been back to Needley. + +For three weeks this sort of thing occupied a considerably larger share +of Madison's thoughts than he was wont to allow even the most vexing +problems to disturb his usually imperturbable and complacent self--and +then one afternoon, he smiled a little grimly, and, leaving the hotel, +started along the road toward the Patriarch's cottage. + +"What Helena needs is--a jolt!" said Madison to himself. "I guess her +trouble is one of those everlasting feminine kinks that all women since +Adam's wife have patted themselves on the back over, because they think +it's a dark veil of mystery that is beyond the acumen of brute man to +understand. That's what the novelists write pages about--wade right in +up to the armpits in it--feminine psychology--great! And the women smile +commiseratingly at the novelist--the idea of a man even pretending to +understand them--kind of a blooming merry-go-round and everybody happy! +Feminine psychology! I guess a little masculine kick-up is about the +right dope! What the deuce have I been standing for it for? I don't have +to--I don't have to go around making sheep's-eyes at her--what? She +wants grabbing up and being rushed right off her feet _a la_ Roost, +and--hello, Mr. Marvin, how are you to-day!"--he had halted beside a +middle-aged man who was sitting on the grass at the roadside. + +"Better, Mr. Madison, better," returned the man, heartily. "Really very +much better." + +"Fine!" said Madison. + +"We all saw the Patriarch to-day--God bless him!" said Marvin. "We've +been waiting out there two days, you know--that woman with the bad back +got up off her stretcher." + +"Splendid!" exclaimed Madison enthusiastically. "And the glorious thing +about it is that there's no reason why everybody can't be cured if +they'll only come here in the right spirit." + +"That's so!" agreed Marvin. "None are so blind as those who won't +see--they're in utter blackness compared with the physical blindness of +that grand and marvelous man. I'm going home myself in another +week--better than ever I was in my life. It was stomach with me, you +know--doctors said there wasn't any chance except to operate, and that +an operation was too slim a chance to be worth risking it." He got up +and laughed, carefree, joyous. "God-given place down here, isn't it? +Clean--that's it. Clean air, clean-souled people, clean everything you +see or do or hear. Say, it kind of opens your eyes to real living, +doesn't it--it's the luxuries and the worries and the pace and the +damn-fooleries that kill. Well, I'm going along back now to get some of +Mrs. Perkins' cream--clean, rich cream--and homemade bread and +butter--imagine me with an appetite and able to eat!" + +He laughed again--and Madison joined him in the laugh, slapping him a +cordial good-by on the shoulder. + +Madison started on once more--but now his progress was slow, frequently +interrupted, for he stopped a score of times to chat and exchange a few +words with those whom he passed on the road. There were cheery faces +everywhere--even those of the sufferers who straggled out along the +road coming back from the Patriarch's cottage. It was a cheery +afternoon, warm and balmy and bright--everything was cheery. The +farmers, their vocations for the moment changed, waved their whips at +him and shouted friendly pleasantries as they drove by with those who +were unable to make the trip from the Patriarch's unaided. + +Madison began to experience a strange, exhilarating sense of uplift upon +him, a sort of rather commendatory and gratified feeling with himself. +Marvin had hit it pretty nearly right with his "clean-wholesomeness" +idea--it kind of made one feel good to be a part of it. Madison, for the +time being, relegated Helena and his immediate mission to a secondary +place in his thoughts. + +Young girls, young men, middle-aged men, elderly women, all ages of both +sexes he passed as he went along; some alone, some in couples, some in +little groups, some on crutches, some in wheel-chairs, some walking +without extraneous aid--he had turned into the woods now, and he could +see them strewn out all along the wagon track under the cool, +interlacing branches overhead. + +Now he stepped aside to let a wagon pass him, and answered the farmer's +call and the smile of the occupants in kind; now some one stopped to +tell him again the story of the afternoon--there had been cures that day +and the Patriarch had come amongst them. Some laughed, some sang a +little, softly, to themselves--all smiled--all spoke in glad, hopeful +words, clean words--there seemed no base thought in any mind, only that +cleanness, that wholesomeness that had so appealed to Marvin--that +somehow Madison found he was taking a delight in responding to, and, +because it afforded him whimsical pleasure, chose to pretend that he was +quite a genuine exponent of it himself. + +He reached the end of the wagon track, and paused involuntarily on the +edge of the Patriarch's lawn as he came out from the trees. Like low, +lulling music came the distant, mellowed noise of waters, the breaking +surf. And the cottage was a bower of green now, clothed in ivy and +vine--upon the trellises the early roses were budding--fragrance of +growing things blended with the salt, invigorating breeze from the +ocean. And upon the lawn, flanked with its sturdy maples, all in leaf, +that toned the sunshine in soft-falling shadows, stood, or sat, or +reclined on cots, the supplicants who still tarried though the Patriarch +had gone. And now one came reverently out of the cottage door from that +room that was never closed; now another went in--and still another. + +Madison smiled suddenly, broadly, with immense satisfaction and +contentment--and then his eyes fixed quite as suddenly on the +single-seated buggy that was coming toward him on the driveway across +the lawn. That was Mamie Rodgers driving--and that was Helena beside +her. + +Madison recalled instantly the object of his visit--and instantly he +whistled a rather surprised little whistle under his breath. How +alluringly Helena's brown hair coiled in wavy wealth upon her head; +there wasn't any need of rouge for color in the oval face; the dark eyes +were soft and deep and glorious; and she sat there in a little white +muslin frock as dainty as a medallion from a master's brush. + +"Say," said Madison to himself, "say, I never quite got it before. Say, +she's--she's lovely--and that's my Helena. It's no wonder +Thornton stared at her that day we touched him for the fifty, +and"--suddenly--"damn Thornton!" + +But the buggy was beside him now, and he lifted his hat as Mamie Rodgers +pulled up the horse. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Rodgers," he said. "Good afternoon, Miss Vail--how +is the Patriarch to-day?" + +"He is very well, thank you," Helena answered--and being custodian of +the whip brushed a fly off the horse's flank. + +"I was just coming out to pay you a little visit," remarked Madison, +trying to catch her eye. + +"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!" said Helena sweetly, still busy with the fly. +"Mamie is going to take me for a drive--and afterwards we are going to +her house for tea." + +"Oh!" said Madison, a little blankly. + +Helena smiled at him, nodded, and touched the horse with the whip--and +then she leaned suddenly out toward him, as the buggy started forward. + +"Oh, Mr. Madison," she called, "I forgot to tell you! I had a letter +from Mr. Thornton to-day--and he's coming back to-morrow." + + + + +--XVII-- + +IN WHICH HELENA TAKES A RIDE + + +The wind kissed Helena's face, bringing dainty color to her cheeks, +tossing truant wisps of hair this way and that, as the car swept onward. +But she sat strangely silent now beside Thornton at the steering wheel. + +It seemed to her that she was living, not her own life, not life as she +had known and looked upon it in the years before, but living, as it +were, in a strange, suspended state that was neither real nor unreal, as +in a dream that led her, now through cool, deep forests, beside clear, +sparkling streams where all was a great peace and the soul was at rest, +serene, untroubled, now into desolate places where misery had its birth +and shame was, where there was fear, and the mind stood staggered and +appalled and lost and knew not how to guide her that she might flee from +it all. + +At moments most unexpected, as now when motoring with Thornton in the +car that he had brought back with him on, his return to Needley, when +laughing at the Flopper's determined pursuit of Mamie Rodgers, when +engaged in the homely, practical details of housekeeping about the +cottage, there came flashing suddenly upon her the picture of Mrs. +Thornton lying on the brass bed in the car compartment that night, every +line of the pale, gentle face as vivid, as actual as though it were once +more before her in reality, and in her ears rang again, stabbing her +with their unmeant condemnation, those words of sweetness, love and +purity that held her up to gaze upon herself in ghastly, terrifying +mockery. + +It stupified her, bewildered her, frightened her. She seemed, for days +and weeks now, to be drifting with a current that, eddying, swirling, +swept her this way and that. How wonderful it was, this life she was now +leading compared with the old life--so full of the better things, the +better emotions, the better thoughts that she had never known before! +How monstrous in its irony that she was leading it to _steal_, that she +might play her part in a criminal scheme for a criminal end! And yet, +somehow, it did not all seem sham, this part she played--and that very +thought, too, frightened her. Why was it now that Madison's +oft-attempted, and as oft-repulsed, kiss upon her lips was something +from which she shrank and battled back, no longer from a sense of pique +or to bring him to his knees, but because something new within her, +intangible, that she did not understand, rose up against it! Why did she +do this--she, who had known the depths, who had known no other guide or +mentor than the turbulent, passionate love she had yielded him and in +her abandonment had once found contentment! Was her love for him gone? +Or, if it was not that--what was it? + +What was it? A week, another, two more, a month had slipped away since +Thornton had returned, and there had been so much of genuineness crowded +into this sham part of hers that it seemed at times the part itself was +genuine. She had come to love that little room of hers, love it for its +dear simplicity, the white muslin curtains, the rag mat, the patch-quilt +on the bed; those daily duties of a woman, that she had never done +before, that she had at first looked at askance, brought now a sense of +keen, housewifely pride; the gentle patience of the Patriarch, his love +for her, his simple trust in her had found a quick and instant response +in her own heart, and daily her affection for him had grown; and there +was Thornton--this man beside her, whose companionship somehow she +seemed to crave for, who, in his grave, quiet manliness, seemed a sort +of inspiration to her, who seemed in a curious way to appease a new +hunger that had come to her for association, for contact with better +thoughts and better ideals. + +What was it? Environment? Yes; there must be something in that. It was +having its effect even on Pale Face Harry and the Flopper. What was it +that Harry, a surprisingly lusty farmhand now, had said to her a week or +so ago: "Say, Helena, do you ever feel that while you was trying to kid +the crowd about this living on the square, you was kind of getting +kidded yourself? I dunno! I ain't coughed for a month--honest. But it +ain't only that. Say--I dunno! Do you ever feel that way?" + +Yes; there must be something in environment. The old life had never +brought her thoughts such as these, thoughts that had been with her now +almost since the first day she had come to Needley--this disquiet, this +self-questioning, these sudden floods of condemnatory confusion; and, +mingling with them, a startled thrill, a strange, half-glad, +half-premonitory awakening, a vague pronouncement that innately it might +be true that she was not what she _really_ was--but what all those +around her held her to be--what Mrs. Thornton had said she was--and-- + +Her fingers closed with a quick, fierce pressure on the arm-rest of her +seat--and she shifted her position with a sudden, involuntary movement. + +Thornton, a road-map tacked on a piece of board and propped up at his +feet, raised his head, and, self-occupied himself, had apparently not +noticed her silence, for he spoke irrelevantly. + +"I hope you won't mind if the road is a bit rougher than usual for a few +miles," he said; "but you know we decided we didn't like the looks of +the weather at tea-time, and according to the map, which labels it +'rough but passable,' this is a short cut that will lop off about ten +miles and take us back to Needley through Barton's Mills." + +"Of course, I don't mind," Helena answered. "How far are we from +Needley?" + +"About thirty-five miles or so," Thornton replied. "Say, an hour and a +half with any kind of going at all. We ought to be back by nine." + +Helena nodded brightly and leaned back in her seat. Rather than +objecting to the short cut that Thornton had begun to negotiate, the +road, now that she gave her attention to it, she found to be quite the +prettiest bit she had seen in the whole afternoon's run, where, in the +rough, sparsely settled north country, all was both pretty and a +delight--miles and miles without the sign of even a farmhouse, just the +great Maine forests, so majestic and grand in their solitude, bordering +the road that undulated with the country, now to a rise with its +magnificent sweep of scenery, now to the cool, fresh valleys full of the +sweet pine-scent of the woods. They had explored much of it together in +the little 'run-about,' nearly every day a short spin somewhere; to-day +a little more ambitious run--the whole afternoon, and tea, a picnic tea, +an hour or more back, in a charming glade beside a little brook. + +"Oh, this is perfectly lovely!" she exclaimed; and then, with a +breathless laugh, as a bump lifted her out of her seat: "It _is_ +rough--isn't it?" + +Thornton laughed and slowed down. + +"I don't fancy it's used much, except in the winter for logging. But if +the map says we can get through, I guess we're all right--there's about +an eight mile stretch of it." + +It was growing dusk, and the shadows, fanciful and picturesque; were +deepening around them. Now it showed a solid mass of green ahead, and, +like a sylvan path, the road, converging in the distance, lost itself in +a wall of foliage; now it swerved rapidly, this way and that, in short +curves, as though, like one lost, it sought its way. + +A half hour passed. Thornton stopped the car, got down and lighted his +lamps, then started on again. The going had seemed to be growing +steadily worse--the road, as Thornton had said, was little more indeed +than a logging trail through the heart of the woods; and now, deeper in, +with increasing frequency, the tires slipped and skidded on damp, moist +earth that at times approached very nearly to being oozy mud. + +Silence for a long while had held between them. It was taking Thornton +all his time now to guide the car, that, negotiating fallen branches +strewn across the way, bad holes and ruts, was crawling at a snail's +pace. + +"'Rough but passable'!" he laughed once, clambering back to his seat +after clearing away a dead tree-trunk from in front of them. "But +there's no use trying to go back, as we must be halfway through, and it +can't be any worse ahead than it's been behind. I'd like to tell the +fellow that made this map something!" + +And then upon Helena, just why she could not tell, began to steal an +uneasiness that frightened her a little. It had grown suddenly, +intensely dark--quicker than the slow, creeping change of dusk blending +softly into night. Sort of eerie, it seemed--and a wind springing up and +rustling through the branches made strange noises all about. They seemed +to be shut in by a wall of blackness on every hand, except ahead where, +like great streaming eyes of fire, the powerful lamps shot out their +rays making weird color effects in the forest--huge tree-trunks loomed a +dead drab, like mute sentinels, grim and ominous, that barred their way; +now, in the full glare, the foliage took on the softest fairy shade of +green; now, tapering off, heavier in color, it merged into impenetrable +black; and, with the jouncing of the car, the light rays jiggling up and +down gave an unnatural semblance as of moving, animate things before +them, a myriad of them, ever retreating, but ever marshalling their +forces again as though threatening attack, as though to oppose the car's +advance. + +What was there to be afraid of? She tried to laugh at herself--it was +perfectly ridiculous. A little bit of rough road--the forest that she +loved around her--even if it was very dark. They would come out +eventually somewhere on the trunk-road to Barton's Mills--that was all +there was to it. Meanwhile, it was quite an experience, and she had +every confidence in Thornton. She glanced at him now. It was too dark to +get more than an indistinct outline of the clean-cut profile, but there +was something inspiriting in the alert, self-possessed, competent poise +of his body as he crouched well forward over the wheel, his eyes never +lifting from the road ahead. + +They appeared to be going a little faster now, too--undoubtedly the road +was getting better. What was there to be afraid of? It didn't make it +any more pleasant for Thornton, who was probably reproaching himself +rather bitterly for having been tempted by the "short cut," to have her +sit and mope beside him! + +She began to hum an air softly to herself--and then laughingly sang a +bar or two aloud. + +Thornton shot a quick, appreciative glance at her and nodded, joining in +the laugh. + +"By Jove!" he said approvingly. "That sounds good to me. I was afraid +this beastly stretch, bumping and crawling along in the dark, was making +you miserable." + +"Miserable!" exclaimed Helena. "Why, the idea! What is there to be +miserable about? We'll get through after a while--and the road's better +now than it was anyhow, isn't it?" + +"Better?" + +"You're running faster." + +"Oh--er--yes, of course," said Thornton quickly. "I wasn't thinking of +what I said. I--" + +He stopped suddenly, as Helena lifted her hand to her face. + +"Why, it's beginning to rain," she said. + +"Yes; I'm afraid so," he admitted. "I was hoping we would get out of +here before it came." + +"Oh!" said Helena. + +"And the worst of it is," he added hurriedly, "there's no top to the +car, and you've no wraps." + +"Perhaps it won't be anything more than a shower," said Helena +hopefully. + +"Perhaps not," he agreed. "Anyway"--he stopped the car, and took off his +coat--"put this on." + +"No--please," protested Helena. "You'll need it yourself." + +"Not at all," said Thornton cheerily. "And that light dress of yours +would be soaked through in no time." + +He held the coat for her, and she slipped it on--and his hand around her +shoulder and neck, as he turned the collar up and buttoned it gently +about her, seemed to linger as it touched her throat, and yet linger +with the most curious diffidence--a sort of reverence. Helena suddenly +wanted to laugh--and, quick in her intuition, as suddenly wanted to cry. +It wasn't much--only a little touch. It didn't mean love, or passion, or +feeling--only that, unconsciously in his respect, he held her up to gaze +upon herself again in that mocking mirror where all was sham. + +They started on--Thornton silent once more, busy with the car; Helena, +her mind in riot, with no wish for words. + +The rain came steadily in a drizzle. She could feel her dress growing +damp around her knees--and she shivered a little. How strangely +wonderful the rain-beads looked on their background of green leaves +where the lamps played upon them--they seemed to catch and hold and +reflect back the light in a quick, passing procession of clear, +sparkling crystals. But it was raining more heavily now, wasn't it? The +drops were no longer clinging to the leaves, they were spattering dull +and lustrelessly to the ground. And Thornton seemed suddenly to be in +trouble--he was bending down working at something. How jerkily the car +was moving! And now it stopped. + +Thornton swung out of his seat to the ground. + +"It's all right!" he called out reassuringly. "I'll have it fixed in a +minute." + +It was muddy enough now, and the ruts, holding the rain, were regular +wheel-traps. Apart from any other trouble, Thornton did not like the +prospect--and, away from Helena now, his face was serious. He cranked +the engine--no result. He tried it again with equal futility--then, +going to the tool-box, he took out his electric flashlight, and, lifting +the engine hood, began to peer into the machinery. Everything seemed all +right. He tried the crank again--the engine, like some cold, dead thing, +refused to respond. + +"What's the matter?" Helena asked him from the car. + +"I don't know," Thornton answered lightly. "I haven't found out yet--but +don't you worry, it's nothing serious. I'll have it in a jiffy." + +Helena's knowledge of motor cars and engine trouble was not +extensive--she was conversant only with the "fool's mate" of motoring. + +"Maybe there's no gasoline," she suggested helpfully. + +"Nonsense!" returned Thornton, with a laugh. "I told Babson to see that +the tank was full before he brought the car around--he wouldn't forget a +thing like that." + +Thornton, nevertheless, tested the gasoline tank. + +"Well?" inquired Helena, breaking the silence that followed. + +"There is no--gasoline," said Thornton heavily. + +Neither spoke for a moment. There was no sound but the steady drip from +the leaves. Then Helena forced a laugh. + +"Isn't it ridiculous!" she said. "That is what one is always making fun +of others for. I--I don't think it's going to stop raining--do you? And +we're miles and miles from anywhere. What _do_ people do when they're +caught like this?" + +Thornton did not answer at once. Bitterly reproachful with himself, he +stood there coatless in the rain. If it had been a breakdown, an +accident that was unavoidable, a little of the sting might have gone out +of the situation--but _gasoline_! This--from rank, blatant, glaring, +inexcusable idiocy. Not on his part perhaps--but that did not lessen his +responsibility. They were miles, as she had said, from anywhere--four +miles at least in either direction from the main road, and as many more +probably after that from any farmhouse--he remembered that for half an +hour before they had turned into the "short cut" they had seen no sign +of habitation--and what lay in the other direction, ahead, would in all +probability be the same--they were up in the timber regions, in the +heart of them--she couldn't walk miles in the rain with the roads in a +vile condition, and growing viler every minute as the rain sank in and +the mud grew deeper. And then another thought--a thought that came now, +sharp and quick, engulfing the mere discomfort of a miserable night +spent there in the woods--the clatter of busy, gossiping tongues seemed +already to be dinning their abominable noises in his ears. And that he, +that he--yes, it seemed to sweep upon him in a sudden, overmastering +surge, the realization that the delight and joy of her companionship +through the month that was gone was love that leaped now into fierce, +jealous flame, maddened at a breath that would smirch her in the eyes of +others--that _he_ should be the cause of it! "What _do_ people do when +they're caught like this?"--in their innocence there seemed an +unfathomed depth of irony in her words, but as he unconsciously repeated +them they cleared his brain and brought him suddenly to face the +immediate practical problem that confronted them. What was to be done? + +"Shall--shall I get out?" she called to him, a hint of reminder in her +tones that she had spoken to him before and received no answer. + +Thornton moved back to the side of the car. + +"Miss Vail," he said contritely, "I--I don't know what to say to you for +getting you into this. I--" + +"I know," she interrupted quickly, leaning over the side of the car and +placing her hand on his arm. "Don't try to say anything. It's not your +fault--it's not either of our faults. Now tell me what you think the +best thing is to do, and, you'll see, I'll make the best of it--there's +no use being miserable about it." + +"You're a game little woman!" he said earnestly, quite unnecessarily +clasping the hand on his arm and wringing it to endorse his verdict. +"And that makes it a lot easier, you know. Well then, we might as well +face the whole truth at one fell swoop. We're up against it"--he laughed +cheerfully--"hard. It's miles to anywhere--we don't know where +'anywhere' is--and of course you can't walk aimlessly around in the mud +and rain." + +"N--no," she said thoughtfully. "I suppose there's no sense in that." + +"And of course you can't sit out here in the wet all night." + +"That sounds comforting--propitious even," commented Helena. + +"Quite!" agreed Thornton, laughing again. "Well, you wait here a moment, +and I'll see if I can't knock up some sort of shelter--I used to be +pretty good at that sort of thing." + +"And I'll help," announced Helena, preparing to get out. + +"By keeping at least your feet dry," he amended. "No--please. Just stay +where you are, Miss Vail. You'll get as much protection here from the +branches overhead as you will anywhere meanwhile, and you'll be more +comfortable." + +She watched him as he disappeared into the wood, and after that, like a +flitting will-o'-the-wisp, watched his flashlight moving about amongst +the trees. Then presently the cheery blaze of a fire from where he was +at work sprang up, and she heard the crackle of resinous pine +knots--then a great crashing about, the snapping of branches as he broke +them from larger limbs--and a rapid fire of small talk from him as he +worked. + +Helena answered him more or less mechanically--her mind, roving from one +consideration of their plight to another, had caught at a certain +viewpoint and was groping with it. They were stalled more effectively +than any accident to the car could have stalled them--they were there +for the night, there seemed no escape from that. But there was nothing +to be afraid of. She had no fears about passing the night alone with him +here in the woods--why should she? _Why should she!_ She laughed low, +suddenly, bitterly. Why should she--even if he were other than the man +he was, even if he were of the lowest type! Fear--of _that_! A yearning, +so intense as for an instant to leave her weak, swept upon her--a +yearning full of pain, of shame, of remorse, of hopelessness--oh, God, +if only she might have had the _right_ to fear! Then passion seized her +in wild, turbulent unrestraint--hatred for this clean-limbed, +pure-minded man, who flaunted all that his life stood for in her +face--hatred for everybody in this life of hers, for all were good save +her--hatred, miserable, unbridled hatred for herself. + +And then it passed, the mood--and she tried to think more calmly, still +answering him as he called from the woods. She had seen a great deal of +Thornton lately--a great deal. He had been kind and thoughtful and +considerate--nothing more. More! What more could there have been? Love! +There was something of mockery in that, wasn't there? Everything she +thought about lately, every way her mind turned seemed to hold something +of mockery now. Of course, Mrs. Thornton's words expressing the wish +that she and Thornton might come together had been often enough with +her--mockingly again!--but Thornton could have known nothing of +that--so, after all, what did that matter? She had snatched at every +opportunity to motor with Thornton despite Doc's protests, protests that +had grown sullen and angry of late--snatched at the opportunities +eagerly, as she would snatch at a breath of air where all else stifled +her--snatched at them because they took her out of herself temporarily, +away from everything, where everything at times seemed to be driving her +mad. Hate Thornton! No, of course, she didn't hate him--she had thought +that a moment ago because--because her brain was--was--oh, she didn't +know--so tired and weary, and she was cold now and quite wet. She didn't +hate him, she even-- + +"All ready now--house to let furnished"--he was calling out, laughing as +he came thrashing through the undergrowth--"excellent situation, high +altitude, luxuriant pine grove surrounds the property, and--and"--he +had halted beside the car and opened the door--"what else do they say?" + +Helena caught his spirit--or, rather, forced herself to do so. It wasn't +quite fair that one of them should do all the pretending. + +"Flies," she laughed. "They always speak of flies in Maine." + +"None!" said Thornton promptly. "There hasn't been one since the house +was built. Now then, Miss Vail"--he held out his arms. + +"Oh, but really, I can walk." + +"And I can carry you," he said--and, from the step, gathered her into +his arms. + +And then, as she lay there passively at first, she seemed to sense again +that curious diffidence, that gentleness, like the touch upon her throat +of a little while ago, though now he held her in both his arms. How +strong he was--and, oh, how miserably wet--her hand around his shoulder +felt the thin shirt clinging soggily to his arm. Yes; she was glad he +hadn't let her walk--it wasn't far, but she would have had to force her +way continually through bushes that scattered showers from their +dripping leaves, and underfoot she could hear his boots squash through +the mud. And then suddenly it happened--the trees, just a yard or so +from the fire, were thick together, tangled--she bent her head quickly, +instinctively, to avoid a low-hanging branch as he for the same reason +swerved a little--and their cheeks lay close-pressed against each +other's, her hair sweeping his forehead, their lips mingling one +another's breaths. He seemed to stumble--then his arms closed about her +in a quick, fierce pressure, clasping her, straining her to him--relaxed +as suddenly--and then he had set her down inside the shelter he had +built. + +Quick her breath was coming now, and across the fire for a moment she +met his eyes. His face was gray, and his hands at his sides were +clenched. + +"I'll--I'll get the seat out of the car," he said hoarsely. "It will +help to make things more comfortable." And turning abruptly, he started +back for the road again. + +Helena did not move. Mechanically her eyes took in the little hut, +crude, but rainproof at least--branches heaped across two forked limbs +for a roof; the trunk of a big tree for the rear wall; branches thrust +upright into the ground for the sides--the whole a little triangular +shaped affair. The fire blazed in front just within shelter at the +entrance; and beside it was piled quite a little heap of fuel that he +had gathered. + +He came back bringing the leather upholstered seat, shook the rain from +it, and dried it with the help of the fire and his handkerchief--then +set it down inside the hut. His face was turned from her; and as he +spoke, breaking an awkward silence, his voice was conscious, hurried. + +"I'm not going to be gone a minute more than I can help, Miss Vail. It's +mighty rough accommodation for you, but there's one consolation at +least--you'll be perfectly safe." + +Helena seated herself, and held her skirt to the fire. + +"Gone!" she said, a little dully. "Where are you going?" + +"Why, to get help of course," he told her. + +"Help!"--she shook her head. "You don't know where to find any--you only +know for a certainty that there isn't any within miles." + +"I know there's a house back on the main road," he said. "I noticed it +as we came along." + +"That's seven or eight miles from here," she returned. "And it's raining +harder than ever--mud up to your ankles--it would take you hours to +reach it." + +"Possibly two, or two and a half," he said lightly. + +"Yes; and another two at least to get back. I won't hear of you doing +any such thing--you are wet through now. It's far better to wait for +daylight and then probably the storm will be over." + +"But don't you see, Miss Vail"--his voice was suddenly grave, +masterful--"don't you see that there is no other thing to do?" + +"No," said Helena. "I don't see anything of the kind. I won't have you +do anything like that for me--it's not to be thought of." + +Thornton stooped, placed a knot upon the fire, straightened up--and +faced her. + +"It's awfully good of you to think of me," he said in a low tone; "but, +really, it won't be half as bad as you are picturing it in your mind. +And really"--he hesitated, fumbling for his words--"you see--that +is--what other people might say--your--reputation--" + +With a sudden cry, white-faced, Helena was on her feet, staring at him, +her hands clutched at her bosom--a wild, demoniacal, mocking orgy in her +soul. Her reputation! It seemed she wanted to scream out the words--_her +reputation_! + +Thornton's face flushed with a quick-sweeping flood of crimson. + +"I'm a brute--a brute with a blundering tongue!" he cried miserably. +"You had not thought of that--and I made you. I could have found another +excuse for going if I had only had wit enough. I was a brute once before +to-night, and--" He stopped, and for a moment stood there looking at +her, stood in the firelight, his face white again even in the ruddy +glow--and then he was gone. + +Time passed without meaning to Helena. The steady patter of the rain was +on the leaves, the sullen, constant drip of water to the ground, and +now, occasionally, a rush of wind, a heavier downpour. She sat before +the fire, staring into it, her elbows on her knees, her face held +tightly in her hands, the brown hair, wet and wayward now, about her +temples. Once she moved, once her eyes changed their direction--to fix +upon her sleeve in a strange, questioning surprise. + +"I let him go without his coat," she said. + + + + +--XVIII-- + +THE BOOMERANG + + +It was early afternoon, as Madison, emerging from the wagon track, and +walking slowly, started across the lawn toward the Patriarch's cottage. +He was in a mood that he made no attempt to define--except that it +wasn't a very pleasant mood. Before Thornton had returned to Needley it +had been bad enough, after that, with his infernal car, it had +been--hell. + +Madison's fists clenched, and his gray eyes glinted angrily. His hands +had been tied like a baby's--like a damned infant's! Helena was getting +away from him further every day, and he couldn't stop it--without +stopping the game! He couldn't tell Thornton that Helena belonged to +him--had belonged to him! He couldn't even evidence an interest in what +was going on. He had to put on a front, a suave, cordial, dignified +front before Thornton--while he itched to smash the other's face to +pulp! Hell--that's what it was--pure, unadulterated hell! He couldn't +get near Helena alone with a ten-foot pole, morning, noon or night--she +had taken good care of that. And he wanted Helena--he _wanted_ her! It +was an obsession with him now--at times driving him half crazy,--and it +didn't help any that he saw her grow more glorious, more beautiful +every day! Of course she knew she had him--had him where she knew he +couldn't do a thing--where she could laugh at him--go the limit with +Thornton if she liked. But, curse it, it wasn't only Thornton--that was +what he could not understand--she had begun to keep away from him before +ever Thornton had come back. + +Madison was near the porch now, and, raising his eyes, noted a +supplicant going into the shrine-room--a woman, richly dressed but in +widow's weeds, who walked feebly. The game went on by itself, once +started--there were half a hundred more about the lawn! Like a snowball +rolling down hill, as he had put it at the Roost. The Roost! If he only +had Helena back there for about a minute there'd be an end of this! +She'd go a little too far one of these days--a little too far--it was +pretty near far enough now--and then there'd be a showdown, game or no +game, and somebody would get hurt in the smash, and-- + +He lifted his eyes again, as some one came hurrying through the cottage +door. It was the Flopper. And then to his surprise, he found himself +being pushed unceremoniously from the porch and pulled excitedly behind +the trellis. + +"What's the matter with you!" he demanded angrily. "Are you crazy!" + +"T'ank de Lord youse have showed up!" gasped the Flopper. "Say, honest, +I can't do nothin' wid him--he's got me near bughouse." + +"Who?"--Madison scowled irritably. + +"De Patriarch, of course. He's noivous, an' gettin' worse all de time. +He won't eat an' he won't keep still. He wants Helena, an' he keeps +writin' her name on de slate--he's got me going fer fair." + +"Well, I'm not Helena!" growled Madison. "Why doesn't she go to him?" + +"Now wouldn't dat sting youse!" ejaculated the Flopper. "How's she goin' +to him when she ain't here?" + +"Not here?" repeated Madison sharply. "Where is she?" + +The Flopper looked down his nose. + +"I dunno," said he. + +Madison stared at him for a moment--then he reached out and caught the +Flopper's arm in a sudden and far from gentle grip. + +"Out with it!" he snapped. + +"I dunno where she is," said the Flopper, with some reluctance. "She +ain't back yet, dat's all." + +"Back from where?"--Madison's grip tightened. + +The Flopper blinked. + +"Aw, wot's de use!" he blurted out, as though his mind, suddenly made +up, brought him unbounded relief. "Youse'll find it out anyhow. Say, she +went off wid Thornton in de buzz-wagon yesterday, an' I put de Patriarch +to bed last night 'cause she wasn't back, an' dat's wot's de matter wid +him, she ain't showed up since an' he's near off his chump, an'--fer +God's sake let go my arm, Doc, youse're breakin' it!" + +A sort of cold frenzy seemed to seize Madison. He was perfectly calm, he +felt himself perfectly calm and composed. Off all night with +Thornton--eh? Funny, wasn't it? She'd gone pretty far at last--gone the +limit. + +"Why didn't you send me word this morning?"--was that his own voice +speaking? Well, he wouldn't have recognized it--but he was perfectly +calm nevertheless. + +"Fer God's sake let go my arm," whimpered the Flopper. "I--I ain't no +squealer, dat's why." + +Madison's arm fell away--to his side. He felt a whiteness creeping to +his face and lips, felt his lips twitch, felt the fingers of his hands +curl in and the nails begin to press into the palms. + +"Mabbe," suggested the Flopper timidly, "mabbe dere was an accident." + +Madison made no answer. + +The Flopper shifted from foot to foot and licked his lips, stealing +frightened glances at Madison's face. + +"Wot--wot'll I do wid de Patriarch?" he stammered out miserably. + +And then Madison smiled at him--not happily, but eloquently. + +"Swipe me!" mumbled the Flopper, as he backed out from the trellis. "Dis +love game's fierce--an' mabbe _I_ don't know! 'Sposin' she'd been +Mamie an' me the Doc--'sposin' it had!" He gulped hastily. "Swipe me!" +said the Flopper with emotion. + +Madison, motionless, watched the Flopper disappear. He wasn't quite so +calm now, not so cool and collected and composed. He must go somewhere +and think this out--somewhere where it would be quiet and he wouldn't be +disturbed. + +A step sounded on the path--Madison looked through the trellis. A man, +with yellow, unhealthy skin and sunken cheeks, his head bowed, was +passing in through the porch. It caught Madison with fierce, exquisite +irony. Why not go there himself if he wanted quiet--the shrine-room--the +place of meditation! Well, he wanted to _meditate_! He laughed +jarringly. The shrine-room--for him! Great! Immense! Magnificent! Why +not? That's what he had created it for, wasn't it--to meditate in! + +He stepped inside. The woman, whom he had seen enter a short while +before, was sitting in a sort of rigid, strained attitude in the far +corner; the man, who had just preceded him, had taken the chair by the +fireplace--they were the only occupants of the room. There was no sound +save his own footsteps--neither of the others looked at him. There was +quiet, a profound stillness--and the softened light from the shuttered +window fell mellow all about, fell like a benediction upon the +simplicity of the few plain articles that the room contained--the round +rag mats upon the white-scrubbed floor; the hickory chairs, severe, +uncushioned; the table, with its little japanned box and book. + +Madison's eyes fixed upon the japanned box, as he leaned now, arms +folded, against the wall--a jewel, even in the subdued light, glowed +crimson-warm where it nested on a crumpled bed of bank-notes--a ruby +ring--the last contribution--it must have been the woman who had placed +it there. Madison glanced at her involuntarily--but his thoughts were +far away again in a moment. + +Anger and a blind rage of jealousy were gripping him now. _Accident!_ +The thought only fanned his fury. Accident! Yes; it was likely--as an +excuse! There would have been an accident all right--leave that to them! +Thornton perhaps wasn't the stamp of man to seek an adventure of that +kind deliberately--perhaps he wasn't--and perhaps he was--you never +could tell--but what difference did that make! _Helena was that kind of +a woman_--though he'd always thought her true to him since he'd known +her--and Thornton, whatever kind of a man he was, wouldn't run away from +her arms, would he? + +The red glow from the ruby ring had vanished--the man had risen from his +seat and was placing something in the box on top of the ring--Madison's +mind subconsciously absorbed the fact that it was a little sheaf of +yellow-backed bills. And now the man bent to the table and was writing +in the book. + +Yellow-backs and rubies! Rubies and yellowbacks! Madison's lips thinned +and curled downward at the corners. Oh, it was coming all right, money, +jewels, pelf, rolling in merrily every day, there wasn't any stopping +it, but he was paying for it, and paying for it at a price he didn't +like--Helena. Helena! She wanted Thornton, did she--with his money! +Wanted to dangle a millionaire on her string--eh? She'd throw him +over--would she! And she thought she had him where he couldn't lift a +finger to stop it--just sit back and grin like a poor, sick fool! + +The red crept up the knotted cords of Madison's neck, suffused the set +jaws, and, as though suddenly liberated to run its course where it +would, swept in a tide over cheeks and temples. + +He couldn't do a thing--_couldn't he!_ Well, he'd see the game in +Gehenna before Thornton or any other man got her away from him. She +belonged to him--to _him!_ And he'd have her, hold her, own her--she was +his--_his!_ And he'd settle with Thornton too, by Heaven! + +A laugh, low, unpleasant, purled to his lips--and he checked it with a +sort of strange mechanical realization that he must not laugh aloud. His +eyes swept the room--the man had returned to his seat, the woman had not +moved, both were silent, motionless--that ghastly, hallowed, +sanctimonious hush--that subdued, damnable light--meditation! + +"For God's sake let me get out of here," he muttered, "or I'll go mad." + +He turned--and stopped. Came a cry spontaneously from the man and the +woman--they were on their feet--no, on their knees. The doorway at the +further end of the room was framing a majestic figure, tall and +stately--and a sun-gleam struggling suddenly through the lattice seemed +to leap in a golden ray to caress in homage the snow-white hair, the +silver beard that fell upon the breast, the saintly face of the +Patriarch. + +Then into the room advanced the Patriarch, and his hands were +outstretched before him, and he moved them a little to and fro--and the +gesture, the poise, the mien, as, touching nothing he seemed to feel his +way through space itself, was as one invoking a blessing of peace +ineffable. + +Spellbound, Madison watched. Upon the face was a yearning that saddened +it, and, saddening, glorified it; the head was slightly turned as though +to listen--while slowly, with measured, certain tread, as though indeed +he had no need for eyes, the Patriarch circled the table and passed on +down the room. The man and the woman reached out and touched him +reverently, and drew back reverently to let him pass, and, rising from +their knees, followed him through the door and out onto the porch. + +The room was empty. Madison stared at the doorway. Upon him fell a +sudden awe--it was as though a vision, an ethereal presence, some +strange embodiment of power, had been and gone--and yet still remained. + +And now from without there came a sound like a distant murmur. It rose +and swelled, and began to roll in its volume, and then, like the clarion +sound of trumpets, voices burst into glad acclaim. + +"The Patriarch! The Patriarch! The Patriarch!" + +From the little hallway came the Flopper, running--and he stopped and +gaped at Madison. + +"I left him in his room fer a minute," he gasped. "He's--he's lookin' +fer Helena." + +And then Madison shook himself together--and smiled ironically. And at +the smile the Flopper hurried on. + +Madison stepped out onto the porch. Helena! Helena! Within him seemed to +burn a rage of hell; but it seemed, too, most strangely that for the +moment this rage was held in abeyance, that something temporarily +supplanted it--this scene before him. + +Onward across the lawn moved the Patriarch, and the Flopper had joined +him now; but the Patriarch, unheeding, turning neither to the right nor +to the left, his arms still extended before him, kept on. And the people +cried aloud: + +"He is coming--he is coming! The Patriarch! The Patriarch!" + +Madison moved on--out upon the lawn himself. + +From everywhere, from every scattered spot where they had been, men and +women ran and limped and dragged themselves along, all converging on +one point--the Patriarch. + +Madison, in the midst of them now, hurried--for it was plainly evident +that the Flopper's control over the Patriarch was gone. He reached the +Patriarch and touched the other's arm--and at the touch the Patriarch +halted instantly, his hand went out and lay upon Madison's sleeve in +recognition, and he turned his face, and it was smiling and there was +relief upon it--and confidence and trust, as, suffering himself to be +guided, they started back toward the cottage. + +And then upon Madison came again that sense of awe, but now intensified. +From every hand tear-stained faces greeted him, white faces, faces full +of sorrow and suffering through which struggled hope--hope--hope. They +flung themselves before the Patriarch--yet never blocked the way. They +cried, they wept, they prayed--and some were silent. It seemed that +souls, naked, stripped, bare, held themselves up to his gaze. Men, +prostrate on stretchers, tried to rise and stagger nearer--and fell. +Friends, where there were friends to help, tugged and dragged +desperately at cots--and from the cots in piteous, agonized appeal the +helpless cried out to the Patriarch to come to them. All of human agony +and fear and hope and despair and terror seemed loosed in a mad and +swirling vortex. And ever the cries arose, and ever around them, giving +way, closing in again, pressed the soul-rent throng. + +And presently to Madison it seemed as though he had awakened from some +terrifying dream, as, in the Patriarch's room again, he swept away a +bead of sweat from his forehead, and stood and looked at the Patriarch +and the Flopper. + +The Flopper licked his lips, and pulled the Patriarch's chair +forward--but his hands trembled violently. + +"It's been gettin' me, Doc," he whispered, "an' I can't help it. It's +been gettin' into me all de time. Say, I wisht it was over. Honest to +God I do! Dis--dis makes me queer. Say, de Patriarch's got me, +Doc--an'--an'--say--dere's been somethin' goin' on inside me dat's got +me hard." + +Madison did not answer--but he started suddenly--and as suddenly +stepped to the window and looked out. Over the cries, the wailings, the +confused medley of voices, growing lower now, subsiding, there had come +the throb of a motor car. + +Madison's eyes narrowed--_that_ was supreme again. A car was coming to a +stop before the porch--Thornton was helping Helena to alight. + +Madison turned and caught the Flopper's arm in a fierce, imperative +grasp. + +"You keep your mouth shut--do you hear?" he flung out, clipping off his +words. "You haven't seen me to-day--understand!" And, dropping the +Flopper's arm, he stepped quickly across the little hall to Helena's +door, opened it, went in--and closed the door behind him. + +And the Flopper, staring, licked his lips again. + +"Swipe me!" he croaked hoarsely. "Pipe de eyes on de Doc! Dere'll be +somethin' doin' now!" + + + + +--XIX-- + +THE SANCTUARY OF DARKNESS + + +There was a grim, merciless smile on Madison's lips; and a whiteness in +his face windowed the passion that seethed within him. He stood +motionless, listening, in Helena's room. He heard the automobile going +away again; then he heard Helena's light step in the hallway +without--and the smile died as his lips thinned. + +But she did not come in--instead, he heard her go into the Patriarch's +room, heard her talking to the Patriarch, and bid the Flopper go to the +kitchen and make her some tea. Then the Flopper's step sounded, passing +down to the rear, of the cottage. + +The minutes passed--then that light footfall again. The door of the room +swung suddenly wide--and closed--there was a cry--and Helena, wide-eyed, +the red of her cheeks fading away, leaned heavily back against the door. + +Neither spoke. Madison, in the center of the room, did not move. The +smile came back to his lips. + +Helena's great brown eyes met the gray ones, read the ugly glint, +dropped, raised again--and held the gray ones steadily. + +Madison gave a short laugh--that was like a curse. His hands at his +sides knotted into lumps. + +Then Madison spoke. + +"Why don't you say, 'you!--_you_!'--and scream it out and clutch at your +bosom the way they do in story books!" he flung out raucously. "Why +don't you do your little stunt--go on, you're on for the turn--you can +put anything over me, I'm only a complacent, blind-eyed fool! Anything +goes! Why don't you start your act?" + +"You don't know what you are saying," she said in a low voice. "If +there's anything you want to talk about, we'd better wait until you're +cooler." + +"Oh, hell!" he roared, his passion full to the surface now. "Cut out the +bunk--cut it out! _Anything_! No, it isn't much of anything--for +you--out all night with Thornton. Do you think I'm going to stand for +it! Do you think I'm going to sit and suck my thumb and _share_ you, +and--" + +"You lie!" She was away from the door now, close before him, her breath +coming fast, white to the lips, and in a frenzy her little fists +pummelled upon him. "It's a lie--a lie--a lie! It's a lie--and you know +it!" + +He pushed her roughly from him. + +"It is, eh?"--his words came in a sort of wild laugh. "And I know it--do +I? Why should I know it? What do you think you are? Say, you'd think you +were trying to kid yourself into believing you're the real thing--the +real, sweet, shy, modest Miss Vail. Cut it out! You're name's +Smith--maybe! And it's my money that's keeping you, and you belong to +me--do you understand?" + +She stood swaying a little, her hands still tightly clenched, breathing +through half parted lips in short, quick, jerky inhalations like dry +sobs. + +"It's true," she faltered suddenly--and suddenly buried her face in her +hands. And then she looked up again, and the brown eyes in their depths +held an anger and a shame. "It's true--I was--was--what you say. But +now"--her voice hurried on, an eagerness, a strange earnestness in +it--"you must believe me--you must. I'll make you--I must make you." + +"Oh, don't hurt yourself trying to do it!" jeered Madison. "We're +talking plain now. I'm not taking into account how you feel about it +--don't you fool yourself for a minute. The sanctity of my home hasn't +been ruined--because it couldn't be! Get that? Thornton don't get +you--not for _keeps_! But you and he don't make a monkey of me again. Do +you understand--say, do you get that? You're _mine_--whether you like +it or not--whether you'd rather have Thornton or not. But I'll fix you +both for this--I'm no angel with a cherub's smile! I'll take it out of +Thornton till the laugh he's got now fades to a fare-thee-well; and I'll +put you where there aren't any strings tying me up the way there are +here. Do you understand!" His voice rose suddenly, and for a moment he +seemed to lose all control of himself as he reached for her and caught +her shoulder. "I love you," he flashed out between his teeth. "I love +you--that's what's the matter with me! And you know that--you know +you've got me there--and you'd play the fool with me, would you!" He +dropped his hands--and laughed a short, savage bark--and stepped back +and stared at her. + +"Will you listen?"--she was twisting her hands, her head was drooped, +the long lashes veiled her eyes, her lips were quivering. "Will you +listen?" she said again, fighting to steady her voice. "It was an +accident." + +"I saw the machine when you drove up--it was a wreck!" snapped Madison +sarcastically. + +"We ran out of gasoline," she said quietly. + +And then Madison laughed--fiercely--in his derision. + +"Oh, keep on!" he rasped. "I told you I was only a blind fool that you +could put anything over on! That accounts for it, of course--a breakdown +isn't so easy to get away with. Gasoline!" + +"We were miles from anywhere," she went on. "We had taken what we +thought was a short cut. Mr. Thornton built a shelter for me in the +woods, and went to--to--" + +He caught up her hesitation like a flash. + +"Fake the lines, Helena, if you haven't had enough rehearsals," he +suggested ironically. "Anything goes--with me." + +And now a tinge of color came to Helena's cheeks, and the brown eyes +raised, and flashed, and dropped. + +"He went to try and find help," she said. "He was out all night in the +storm. I do not know how far he must have walked. I know the nearest +house was five or six miles away--and there was no horse there--the man +had driven to some town that morning. It was almost daylight before Mr. +Thornton at last came back with a team. We were forty miles from +here--we sent the team to the nearest town for gasoline and then motored +back." She stopped--and then, with a catch in her voice: "He--he was +very good to me." + +"Good to me"--the words seemed to stab at Madison, seemed to ring in his +ears and goad him with a fiercer jealousy--and her story of the night, +what she had been saying, save those words, was as nothing, meant +nothing, was swept from his consciousness--and only she, standing there +before him, glorious, maddening in her beauty, remained. Soul, mind and +body leaped into fiery passion--she was his, and his she always would +be--those eyes, those lips, the white throat, those perfect arms to +cling about his neck--and all of heaven and hell and earth were naught +beside her. + +"I love you!"--his face was white, his words fierce-breathed, almost +incoherent--and he leaned toward her with a sudden, uncontrollable +movement, his arms sweeping out to clasp her. "I love you, Helena--I +love you. Do you understand--it's _you_! You--I love you!" + +"You _love_ me!"--she retreated from him, but her head was raised now, +and her voice rang with a bitterness cold as the touch of death. "Love! +What do you know of _love_! We talk plain, you say. Love--love for me! +Passion, vice, lust, sin--and, oh, my God, degradation and misery and +shame--love! Love! That is _your_ love!" + +He stood for a moment and stared at her again--and her face was as +pallid ivory. And something seemed to daze him, and he brushed his hand +across his eyes--the logic was faulty, torn and pitiful, and he groped +after the flaw. + +"It's--it's your love as well as mine," he said in a stumbling way--then +his brain flashed quick into action. "My love--what other love have +_you_ known but that?" he cried. "It's _our_ love--the love we have +known together--and we're going back to it--see? I've had enough of +this. You pack your trunks--and pack them quick! We're going to beat it +out of here! We're going back to our--love. We're going back where I +don't have to sit around like a puling fool and watch Thornton chuck you +under the chin--we're going where he'll want a tombstone if he ever +shows his face there. You thought the game would hold me to the last +jackpot--did you? Well, I've got enough--and there's no game big enough +to make me stand for this. That looks like love--doesn't it?" He burst +again into a sudden, mirthless laugh--and once again swept his +hand across his eyes. "We're going to beat it out of here +now--to-night--to-morrow morning." + +But now she had drawn further away from him--and there was a frightened +look in her eyes, and her lips quivered pitifully. + +"No--I can't--I can't," she cried out. "No, no--I can't--I can't go back +to _that_." + +"That! That--is love," he said wildly. "The only love you know. What +more do you want? There's loot enough now, and--ha, ha!--that little +contribution of Thornton's, to give you all the money you want. Love, +Helena--you and I--the old love--you and I together again, Helena. I +tell you I love you--do you hear? I love you--and I'll have you--I love +you! What do you know, what do you care about any other kind of love!" + +She looked at him, misery and fear still in her eyes, and her slight +figure seemed to droop, and her hands hung heavy, listless, at her +sides. + +"I care"--the words came in a strange mechanical way from her lips. "Oh, +I care. I can't--I won't go back to that. And I know--I know now. I have +learned what love is." + +Quick over Madison's face surged the red in an unstemmed tide--volcanic +within him his love that he knew now possessed his very soul, jealousy +that, blinding, robbed him of his senses, roused him to frenzy. + +"Oh, you've learned what love is, have you--_with him_!" he cried--and +sprang for her and snatched her into his arms. "And you won't come, eh? +Well, I've learned what love is too in the last month--and if I can't +get it one way, I'll get it another"--he was raining mad kisses upon her +face, her hair, her eyes--"I love you, I tell you--I love you!" + +With a cry she tried to struggle from him--and then fought and struck at +him, beating upon his face with her fists. Fiercer, closer he held +her--around the little room, staggering this way and that, they circled. +He kissed her, laughing hoarsely like a madman, laughing at the blows, +beside himself, not knowing what he did--mad--mad--mad. He kissed her, +kissed the white throat where the dress was torn now at the neck; +imprisoned a little fist that struck at him and kissed the quivering +knuckles; kissed the wealth of glorious, burnished-copper hair that, +unloosened, fell about her, kissed it and buried his face in its rare +fragrance. And then--and then his arms were empty--and he was staring at +the calm, majestic figure of the Patriarch--and Helena was crouched upon +the floor, and, sobbing, was clinging with arms entwined around the old +man's knees. + +And so for a little while Madison stood and stared--what had brought the +Patriarch there--the Patriarch who could neither see nor hear nor +speak--what had brought him from his own room across the hall! And +Madison stared, and his hands crept to his temples and pressed upon +them--weak he seemed as from some paroxysm of madness that had passed +over him. The sunlight streaming through the window sheened the +luxuriant mass of hair that falling over shoulders and to the waist +seemed alone to cloak the little figure in its crouched position--the +little figure that shook so convulsively with sobs--the little figure +that clung so desperately at the feet of this god-like, regal man, whose +beard was silver, whose hair was hoary white, upon whose face, marring +none its strength or self-possession, was a troubled, anxious, +questioning look. + +Strange! Strange! Madison's hands fell to his sides. The Patriarch's +eyes were turned full upon him, wavering not so much as by the fraction +of an inch--full upon him. And then, as into some holy sanctuary, +fending her from harm and danger, the Patriarch turned a little to +interpose himself before Madison, and, raising Helena, held her in his +arms, her head against his bosom--and one hand lay upon her head and +stroked it tenderly. But upon Madison was still turned those sightless +eyes, that noble face, serene, commanding even in its perturbation, even +in its alert and searching look. + +Madison stirred now--stirred uneasily--while the silence held. There was +a solemnity in the silence that seemed to creep upon and pervade the +room--a sense of a vast something that was the antithesis of turmoil, +passion, strife, that seemed to radiate from the saintly figure whose +lips were mute, whose ears heard no sound, whose eyes saw no sight. And +upon Madison it fell potent, masterful, and passion fled, and in its +place came a strange, groping response within him, a revulsion, a +penitence--and he bowed his head. + +And then Helena spoke--but her head was turned away from him, hidden on +the Patriarch's breast. + +"Once," she said, and her words were like broken whispers, for she was +sobbing still, "once, long, long ago, when I was a little girl, I read +the story of Mary Magdalen. I had almost forgotten it, it was so long +ago, but it has come back to me, and--and it is a glad story--at the +end." + +She stopped--and Madison raised his head, and his face was strained as +with some sudden wonder as he looked at her. + +"It is a glad story," she said presently. "It--it is my story." + +"You mean"--Madison's voice was hoarse--"you mean that you've +turned--_straight_!" + +"They love me here," she said. "They trust me and they think me good--as +they are. All think me that--the little children and this dear man +here--and for a little while, since I have been here, I have lived like +that. They made me believe that it was true--_true_. And there was shame +and agony--and hope. It seemed they could not all be wrong, and I have +asked and prayed that I might make it true always--and--and forgiveness +for what I was." + +"You mean," he said again hoarsely, and he stepped toward her now, "you +mean that you are--_straight_!" + +She did not answer--only now she turned her face toward him and lifted +up her head. + +And for a long minute Madison gazed into the tear-splashed eyes, deep, +brave in chastened wistfulness, gazed--and like a man stunned walked +from the room, the cottage, and out across the lawn. + + + + +--XX-- + +TO THE VICTOR ARE THE SPOILS + + +Many were still about the lawn as he left the cottage--they were all +about him, those sick, half frantic creatures--and still they made +noises; still some of them cried and sobbed; still in their waning +paroxysms they moved hither and thither. They appealed to some numbed, +dormant sense in Madison, in a subconscious way, as things to be +avoided. And so, almost mechanically, he took the little path that, +striking off at right angles to the wagon track where it joined the +Patriarch's lawn, came out again upon the main road at the further end +of the village. + +And, as he walked, like tidal waves on-rushing, emotions, utterly at +variance one with another, hurled themselves upon him, and he was swept +from his mental balance, tossed here and there, rolled gasping, +strangling in the chaos and turmoil of the waters, as it were, and, +rising, was hurled back again. + +White as death itself was Madison's face; and at times his fingers with +a twitching movement curled into clenched fists, at times his open palms +sought his temples in a queer wriggling way and pressed upon them. +Doubt, anger, fear, a rage unhallowed--in cycles--buffeted him until +his brain reeled, and he was as a man distraught. + +It began at the beginning, that cycle, and dragged him along--and left +him like one swooning, tottering, upon the edge of a precipice. And then +it began over again. + +And it began always with a picture of the Roost that night--the vicious, +unkempt, ragged figure of the Flopper--the sickly, thin, greedy face of +Pale Face Harry, the drug fiend, winching a little as he plunged the +needle into his flesh--the easy, unprincipled gaiety and eagerness of +Helena for the new path of crime--crime--crime--the Roost exuded +crime--filth--immorality--typified them, framed them well as they had +sat there, the four of them, while that bruised-nosed bouncer had +brought them drink on his rattling tin tray. And then his own +self-satisfied, smug, complacent egotism at his own cleverness, his +unbounded confidence in his own ability to pull off the game, and-- + +Well, he had pulled it off--he'd won it--won it--won it--everybody had +fallen for it--the boobs had been plentiful--the harvest rich. What was +the matter with him! He'd won--was winning every time the clock ticked. +Somebody back there was probably throwing good hard coin at him this +minute--the damned fool! Madison threw back his head to laugh in +derision, for there was mocking, contemptuous laughter in his soul--but +the laugh died still-born upon his lips. + +It was fear now--fear--staggering, appalling him. He was facing +something--_something_--his brain did not seem to define it--something +that was cold and stern and immutable, that was omnipotent, that +embodied awe--a condemnation unalterable, unchangeable, before which he +shrank back with his soul afraid. Before him seemed to unfold itself the +wagon track, the road to the Patriarch's cottage; and he was there +again, and whispering lips were around him, and men and women and +children were there, and in front of them, leading them, slithered that +twisted, misshapen, formless thing--and now they were upon the lawn, and +about him everywhere, everywhere, everywhere was a sea of white faces +out of which the eyes burned like living coals. What power was this +that, loosed, had stricken them to palsied, moaning things! + +Madison shivered a little--and a sweat bead oozed out and glistened upon +his forehead. Hark--what was that! Clarionlike, clear as the chimes of a +silver bell, rang now that childish voice--rang out, and rang out +again--and the crutch was gone--and the lame boy ran, ran--_ran_! And +who was that, that stood before him now--that golden-haired woman beside +an empty wheel-chair, whose face was radiant, who cried aloud that she +was _cured_! And who were these others of later days, this motley crowd +of old and young, that passed before him in procession, that cried out +the same words that golden-haired woman by the wheel-chair had +cried--and cried out: "Faith! Faith! Faith!" + +Madison swept the sweat bead from his forehead with a trembling hand. It +was a lie--a lie--a lie! He had taught them to say that--but it was all +bunk--and all were fools! He could laugh at them, jeer at them, mock at +them, deride them--they were his playthings--and faith was his +plaything--and he could laugh at them all! + +And again he raised his head to laugh; and again the laugh was choked in +his throat, still-born--_Helena was straight_! To his temples went his +twitching hands. Anger raged upon him--and died in fear. Anger, for the +instant maddening him, that he should lose her; rage in ungovernable +fury that the game, his plans, the hoard accumulated, was bursting like +a bubble before his eyes--died in fear. No, no; he had not meant to +laugh or mock--no, no; not that, not that! What was this loosed titanic +power that had done these things--that had brought this change in +Helena; that had brought a change in the Flopper, transforming the +miserable, pitiful, whining thief into a man reaching out for decent +things; that had wrought at least a physical metamorphosis in Pale Face +Harry--that had transfigured those three who, in their ugly, abandoned +natures then, had hung like vultures on his words in the Roost that +night! What was this power that he was trifling with, that brought him +now this cold, dead fear before which he quailed! What was this +_something_ that in his temerity he had dared invoke--that rose now +engulfing him, a puny maggot--that snatched him up and flung him +headlong, shackled, before this nebulous, terrifying tribunal, where out +of nothingness, out of a void, the calm, majestic features of the +Patriarch took form and changed, and changed, and kept changing, and +grew implacable, set with the stamp of doom. What was it--in God's name, +what was it brought these sweat beads bursting to his forehead! Was he +going mad--was he mad already! + +And then the cycle again--doubt, anger, fear--until his brain, +exhausted, seemed to refuse its functions; and it was as though, heavy, +oppressing, a dense fog shut down upon his mind and enveloped it; and +now he walked as a man in great haste, hurrying, and now his pace was +slow, uncertain. + +And so he went on, following the little path that bordered the woods on +one hand and the fields on the other; went on until he neared the +village--and then he stopped suddenly, and turned about. Some one had +called his name. + +From the field, a man climbed over the fence and came toward him. The +man's face was tanned and rugged, his form erect, and the sleeves rolled +back above the elbows displayed browned and muscular forearms. Madison +stared at the man apathetically. This was the farm of course where Pale +Face Harry boarded, and this was Pale Face Harry--but-- + +"Doc," said Pale Face Harry, and he shuffled his feet and looked down, +"Doc, I got something I've been wanting to say to you for a week." + +Madison still gazed at him apathetically--Pale Face Harry for the moment +was as some unwarrantable apparition suddenly appearing before him. + +Pale Face Harry raised his eyes, lowered them, kicked at a clod of earth +with the toe of his boot--and raised his eyes again. + +"Say," he blurted out, "I'm through, Doc. I'm--I'm going to quit." + +Into Madison's stumbling brain leaped and took form but one idea--and he +jumped forward, reaching savagely for Pale Face Harry's throat. + +"You'd throw me, would you! You'd throw the game--would you!" he +snarled, as his fingers locked. + +Pale Face Harry, twisting, wriggled free--and retreated a step. + +"No; I ain't!" he gasped--and then his sentences came tumbling out upon +each other jerkily, as though he were trying to compress what he had to +say into as few words as possible and as quickly as he could, while he +watched Madison warily. "I ain't throwing nothing. I just want to quit +myself. I keeps my mouth shut--see? I don't want none of the share +what's coming. Say, I've got more'n a hundred times that out of it. Look +at me, Doc! Say, I'm like a horse. That's the Patriarch and living +honest. Say, in all me life I never knew what it was before till we +comes here. If I took the dough what's coming I'd go back to the old +hell, and I'd go down and out again. Say, it ain't worth it, there's +nothing in it. I ain't throwing you, Doc--I just blows out of here with +me trap closed. Say, look at me, Doc--don't you get what I mean?" + +And then Madison burst into a peal of wild, strange laughter; and, as +though no man stood before him, started on along the path--and Pale Face +Harry sidled out of his way and stared after him. + +"For--for God's sake, Doc," he called out, stammering, "what's the +matter?" + +But Madison made no answer. He heard Pale Face Harry call out behind +him; in a subconscious, mazed way, he sensed the other following him, +gropingly, hesitantly, for a few yards, then hold back--and finally +stop. + +The path swerved. Madison went on--blindly, mechanically, as though, +once set in motion, he must go on. Some ghastly, unnatural thing was +clogging his brain; not only in a mental way, but clogging it until +there was physical hurt and pain, an awful tightness--something--if he +could only reach it with his fingers and claw it away! There was black +madness here, and a pain insufferable--a damnable impotence, robbing him +of even the power, the faculty to think or reason, or to make himself +understand in any logical degree the meaning or the cause of this thing +that sent his brain swirling sick. + +He halted. His lips were working; the muscles of his face quivered. And +suddenly, snatching his hat from his head, he flung himself on the +ground and plunged face and head, feverishly, tigerishly, into the +little brook that ran beside the path. Again and again he buried his +face in the cold, clear, refreshing water--and then, still on hands and +knees, he raised his head to listen. Softly, full of a great peace, full +of a strange sweetness that knew no discord, no strife, the notes of the +chapel bell floated across the fields. Evening had come; the day's work +was done--it was benediction time. It was the call of the faithful--the +Angelus of those who believed. + +It came, the revulsion, to Madison in a choked sob--and he stood up. The +day's work was done--here. Here they would go in quiet thankfulness each +from the farm to his little cottage, each to his simple, wholesome meal, +each to the twilight hours of gentle communion as they talked to one +another from their doorways, each to his bed and his rest, tranquil in +the love of God and of man. + +Madison flung back the dripping hair from his forehead. Strange, the +contrast that, unbidden, came insistently to him now: The liquid notes +of the bell wafted sweetly on the evening breeze; the howling, jangling +turmoil of the city slums, of his familiar haunts where, in mad chaos, +reigned the hawkers' cries, the thunder of the elevated trains, the +noisome traffic of the street, the raucous clang of trolley bells--the +sweet perfume of the, fields, the smell of trees, of earth, of all of +God's pure things untouched, unsoiled; the stench of Chatham Square, +the reek of whiskey spilled with the breath of obscene, filthy lips--the +little village that he could see beyond him, the tiny curls of blue +smoke rising like the incense from an altar over the roofs of houses +whose doors had no locks, whose windows were not barred, where plain, +homely folk, unsullied, lived at peace with God and the world; the +closed areaways of the Bowery, the creaking stairs, the dim hallways +leading to dens of vileness and iniquity where, safe by bolts from +interruption, crime bred its offsprings and vice was hatched. What did +it mean! + +And so he stood there for a little space; then presently he started +forward again; and presently he reached the village street, walked down +its length, greeted from every doorway with hearty, unaffected +sincerity, and after a little while he came to the hotel, and to his +room--and there he locked the door. + +Helena was straight--the words were repeating themselves over and over +in his brain. He began to pace up and down the room. The words seemed to +take form and shape in fiery red letters, being scrawled by invisible +hands upon the walls--_Helena was straight_. Straight with Thornton, +straight with any man--straight with her Maker. He knew that now--he had +read it as a soul-truth in those brave, deep, tear-dimmed eyes. And he +had _lost_ her! It seemed as though he had become suddenly conscious +that he was enduring some agony that was never to know an end, that +from now on must be with him always. He had lost her--lost Helena. + +From his pocket he drew out his keys and opened his trunks, and took out +the trays and spread them about. There were very many trays, they nested +one upon the other--and they were exceedingly ingenious +trays--false-bottomed every one. And now he opened these false-bottoms, +every one of them, and stood and looked at them. The surest, safest, +biggest game he had ever played, the game that had known no single +hitch, the game that had brought no whispering breath of suspicion flung +its tribute in his face. Money that he had never tried to count, notes +of all denominations, large and small, glutted the receptacles--jewels +in necklaces, in rings, in pendants, in brooches, in bracelets, +diamonds, rubies, emeralds, winked at him and scintillated and glowed +and were afire. + +And he stood and looked upon them. What was it the Flopper had said when +they had brought the Patriarch back--he did not remember. What was it +that Pale Face Harry had said a little while ago--he did not remember. +These were jewels here and money--wealth--and he had won the greatest +game that was ever played--only he had lost her--lost Helena. And he +stood and looked upon them--and slowly there crept to his face a +white-lipped smile. + +"I'm beat!" he whispered hoarsely. "Beat--by the game--I won." + + + + +--XXI-- + +FACE VALUE + + +It was evening of the same day--and there came a knock at the outer door +of the cottage porch. + +The Flopper answered it, and came back to the Patriarch's room; where +the Patriarch sat in his armchair; where the lamp, turned low, throwing +the little room into half shadow, burned upon the table; where Helena, +far away from her immediate surroundings, quite silent and still, her +own chair close beside the other's, nestled with her head on the +Patriarch's shoulder. + +Helena looked up as the Flopper returned. + +Upon the Flopper's face was a curious expression--not one that in the +days gone by had been habitual--it seemed to mingle a diffidence, a +kindly solicitude and a sort of anxious responsibility. + +"It's Thornton askin' fer youse," announced the Flopper. + +Helena rose from her chair, and started for the door--but the Flopper +blocked the way. Helena halted and looked at him in astonishment. + +The Flopper licked his lips. + +"Say, Helena," he said earnestly, "if I was youse I wouldn't go--say, +I'll tell him youse have got de pip an' gone ter bed." + +"Not go?" echoed Helena. "What do you mean?" + +The Flopper scratched at his chin uneasily. + +"Oh, you know!" he said. "De Doc let youse down easy ter-day. Say, if +youse had piped his lamps when you drives up in de buzz-wagon dis +afternoon youse wouldn't be lookin' fer any more trouble. Say, I'm +tellin' youse straight, Helena. When I was out dere in de kitchen an' +youse was in yer room wid him me heart was in me mouth all de time. +Youse can take it from me, Helena, he let youse down easy." + +Helena's brown eyes, a little wistfully, a little softly, held upon the +Flopper. + +"Yes?" she said quietly. + +"Youse had better cut it out ter-night, Helena," the Flopper went on. +"Y'oughter know de Doc by dis time--de guy dat starts anything wid de +Doc gets his--dat's all! Remember de night he threw Cleggy down de +stairs in de Roost?--an' he was only havin' fun! Say, you go out wid +Thornton again ter-night an' de Doc finds it out--an' something'll +happen. Say, Helena, fer God's sake, don't youse do it--de Doc was bad +enough dis afternoon when he let youse down easy, but he's worse now, +an'--" + +"Worse?" Helena interrupted, smiling a little apathetically. "In what +way is he worse? And how do you know? You haven't seen Doc, have you?" + +"No," the Flopper answered, circling his lips with his tongue again. +"No; I ain't seen de Doc since--but I seen Pale Face. Say, Helena"--the +Flopper's words came stumbling out now, agitated, perturbed, not +altogether coherent--"wot's de answer I dunno; I dunno wot's de matter +here. Say"--he pointed suddenly to the Patriarch, whose face was turned +toward them as he stroked thoughtfully at his silver beard--"he's got me +fer fair--dere ain't no fake here--dis way ter live is de real t'ing--he +ain't like you an' me--he's _more'n_ dat--look at him now--youse'd t'ink +he could see us, an' was listenin' ter wot we said. I dunno wot's de +end--I dunno wot's de matter wid me. I was scared more'n ever out dere +dis afternoon on de lawn, an' I thought mabbe God 'ud strike me +dead--but 'tain't only dat I'm scared ter buck de game any more, 'tain't +only dat--I don't _wanter_ any more, an' it don't make no difference +about de dough--I wanter live straight, same as him, same as de guys +around here, same--same as Mamie. Say, Helena, say, do youse believe in +love--in--in de _real_ t'ing?" + +Helena's apathy was gone now--a flush dyed her cheeks. She was not +startled at what the Flopper had said--she had seen it coming, +subconsciously, vaguely, mistily, for days now, only she had been +immersed in herself--she was not startled, and yet, in a way, she was. +The end! She too had been thinking about that--and she too did not know. +What _was_ the end? + +"You were going to say something about Pale Face," she said, prompting +the Flopper. "Something about Pale Face and Doc." + +"Yes," said the Flopper, and again the tip of his tongue sought his lips +nervously. "Dat's why I don't want youse ter go out wid Thornton +ter-night. Pale Face has got it de same as me, an' he told de Doc dis +afternoon, out in de path dere, after de Doc left de cottage here. Dere +was a showdown--see? De Doc 'ud kill youse an' Thornton ter-night if he +caught youse ter-gether. He's like a wild man. When Pale Face tells him +he was goin' ter quit, de Doc makes a grab fer him by de t'roat like a +tiger, only Pale Face gets away, an' den de Doc goes off widout a word, +laughin' like he'd escaped out of a dippy-house. An' Pale Face was +shakin' like he had a fit when he gets here. Say, Helena, don't youse go +ter-night." + +Helena made no answer for a moment. Thoughts, a world of them, confused +her, crowded upon her, as they had ever since Madison had left her room +a few hours ago--and the future was as some dread, bewildering maze +through which she had tried to stumble and grope her way--and had lost +herself ever deeper. How full of utter, miserable, bitter irony it was +that this thing, unscrupulous and shameful, that they had created in +their guilt should have brought the beauty and the glory and the +yearning of a new life to her--and yet should chain her remorselessly +to the old! True, she had broken with Madison, irrevocably, forever, she +supposed, it could not be other than that, for the ugly bond between +them was severed--but the game still went on! In repentance, on her +bended knees, sobbing as a tired and worn-out child, she could ask for +forgiveness; but the double life, the duplicity, by reason of the very +nature in which they had fashioned this iniquitous monster, still went +on, and like some hideous octopus reached out its waving, feeling +tentacles to encircle her--the Patriarch there; the world-wide +publicity, those poor creatures upon whose misery and whose suffering, +upon whose frantic, frenzied snatching out at hope they had preyed and +fed and gorged themselves; the life itself that she had taken up, in its +minutiae, in its care of this great-souled, great-hearted man so dear to +her now, the life itself because it was what it was, changed though she +herself might be, though her soul cried out against it in its new-found +purity--all this still held her fast! The end--she could not see the +end. What would Madison do--and there was Thornton. Thornton! She caught +her breath a little. Yes; she had promised Thornton she would see him +to-night--she knew well enough why he wanted to see her--last night had +told her that--he loved her. Her face softened. Last night--it seemed a +thousand years ago, and it seemed but as an instant passed--last +night--she had learned what love was, and-- + +The Flopper stirred uneasily. + +"Wot'll I tell him?" asked the Flopper. "He's waitin' out dere by de +porch." + +"Why--why nothing," said Helena, and she smiled a little tremulously at +the Flopper. "Nothing. I'll--I'll go and see him." + +"Say, Helena," protested the Flopper, "don't youse--" + +But Helena stepped by him now. + +"Don't leave the Patriarch," she cautioned, turning on the threshold. +"I--I won't be late." + +She passed down the little hall, through the still, quiet room beyond, +empty now, through the porch, and out into the night--and then from out +the shadows by the row of maples, Thornton came hurriedly toward her, +holding out his hands. + +"It's good of you to come, Miss Vail," he said, in his grave, quiet way. +"You must be nearly dead with weariness after last night, and I am +afraid I am not very thoughtful--only I--" he broke off suddenly. "Shall +we sit here on the bench for a little while, or would you rather +walk--I--I have something to say to you." + +It was very dark--the storm of the night before still lingered in a +wrack of flying clouds, scurrying one after the other, veiling the +stars--and the moon was hidden--and hidden too was the sudden whiteness +of Helena's face. She knew what he had to say, knew it before she had +come to him--and yet she was there--and she had come resolutely +enough--only now she was afraid. + +"I would rather walk a little, I think," she said. "Here where--where I +can be within call. My absence last night seems to have made the +Patriarch very uneasy, you know, and--and--let us just walk up and down +here beneath the maples in front of the cottage." + +How heavy upon the air lay the fragrance of the flowers; how still the +night was, save for the constant muffled boom of the breaking surf!--for +a moment an almost ungovernable impulse swept upon her to make some +excuse, anything, no matter how wild, a sudden faintness, anything, and +run from him back into the cottage. And then she tried to think, think +in a desperate sort of way of some subject of conversation that she +might introduce that would stave off, postpone, defer the words that she +knew were even now on his lips--nothing--she could think of +nothing--only that she might have let the Flopper have his way, have let +him tell Thornton that she had gone to bed with--the pip. The _pip_! She +could have screamed out hysterically as the word flashed all unbidden +upon her--it stood for a very great deal that word--her world of the +years of yesterday. Could she never get away from that world; was it too +late--already! Could she, even with all the earnestness, all the +yearning that filled her soul, ever live it down, ever be what Naida +Thornton had called her that night--a good woman! Could she-- + +Thornton was speaking now--how strange that she would have done +anything, given anything to prevent his speaking--and done anything, +given anything to make him speak! How strange and perplexed and dismayed +her brain was! Love! Yes; she wanted love! God knew she wanted love such +as his was--for he had shown her what love, free from abasing passion, +in its purest sense, was. Like a glimpse of glory, hallowed, full of +wondrous amazement, it came to her--and then her head was lowered, and +the whiteness was upon her face again. + +He had halted suddenly and detained her with his hand upon her arm--with +that touch, so full of reverence, of fine deference, that had thrilled +her before--that thrilled her now, awakening into fuller life these new +emotions whose birth was in gladder, sweeter, purer aspirations. + +"Miss Vail," he said, in a low voice, "there was a letter--a letter that +Naida left--did you know of it?" + +They were close together, and it was very dark--but was it dark enough +to hide the crimson that she felt sweeping in a flood to her face! What +was in that letter? Had Mrs. Thornton written as she had talked, or only +about the Patriarch and the work in Needley? She had forgotten for the +moment about the letter--if there were more in it than that, if it were +about Thornton and herself and what Mrs. Thornton had hoped for between +them, and she admitted knowledge of it, what would he think, what +_could_ he think of her! But to deny it--no, not now. Once, and this +came to her in a little thrill of gladness, she would not have +hesitated; but now it--it was--it was not that world of yesterday. + +"Yes," she said faintly; "she told me that she had left a letter for +you." + +"It was about the work here," said Thornton gently. "Her whole soul +seemed wrapt up in that--and she asked me as her last wish to do what +she would have done if she had lived; and she spoke of you very +beautifully." Thornton paused for a moment--then he laid his hands on +Helena's shoulders--and she felt them tremble a little. "Miss +Vail--Helena," he said, and his voice was full of passionate earnestness +now, "I cannot say these things well--only simply. I came back here to +take an interest in the work, for I too have it at heart--but I have +more than that now--there is _you_--your dear self. I love you, +Helena--you have come into my life until you are everything and all to +me. Helena, look up at me--will you marry me, dear? Tell me what I long +to hear. Helena, Helena--I love you!" + +But Helena did not answer--only very slowly she raised her head. And his +hands on her shoulders tightened, and he was drawing her gently toward +him. Then he bent his head until it was close to hers, and his breath +was upon her cheek as it had been that other night--and the longing to +know that it was hers, a caress, pure in its motive, hers, snatched out +of all that had gone before that sought to rob her of the right to ever +know it, fascinated her, held her spellbound, possessed her. Closer his +lips came to hers, closer, until they touched her--and then, with a cry, +she sprang back, and her hands were fiercely pressed against her cheeks, +her throbbing temples. Was she mad! Mad! Was it for this that she had +forced herself to give him the opportunity to speak to-night, when her +motive was so different, when it had seemed the only _right_ thing left +for her to do! + +And now, still holding her temples, she raised her eyes to Thornton--he +had stepped back like a man stricken, his hands dropped to his sides. + +"I--we are mad!" she whispered. + +"Helena!" he said in a numbed way; and again; "Helena!" Then, with an +effort to control his voice: "You--you do not care--you do not love me?" + +"No," she said--and thereafter for a long time a silence held between +them. + +Then Thornton spoke. + +"Some day perhaps, Helena," he said, "you could learn to love me--for I +would teach you. Perhaps now you feel that your whole duty lies here in +this work to which you have so unselfishly given your life; but I would +not hinder that, only try to help as best I could. Perhaps I have been +abrupt, have spoken too soon--it is only a few weeks since I saw you +first, but it seems as though in those few weeks I had come to know you +as if I had known you all my life and--" + +But now she interrupted him, shaking her head in a sad little fashion. + +"You do not know me," she said. "Sometimes I think I do not know myself. +Think! You do not know where I came from to join the Patriarch here; you +have no single shred of knowledge about me; you do not know a single +particular of my life before you knew me." + +"I do not need to know," he answered gravely. "You are as genuine as +pure gold is genuine--it is in your voice, your smile, your eyes. It is +a crude simile perhaps, but one never asks where the pure gold was +dug--it stands for itself, for what it is, because it is what it +is--pure gold--at its face value." + +The words seemed to stab at Helena, condemning, accusing; and yet, too, +in a strange, vague way, they seemed to bring her a hope, a promise for +the days to come--at face value! If she could live hereafter--at face +value! + +"Listen," she said, and her voice was very low. "I do not know how to +say what I must say to you. Last night I knew that--that you loved me. I +had not thought of you like that, in that way, until then, or--or I +should have tried never to have let this hurt come to you. But last +night I knew, and since then I have known that sooner or later you +would--would tell me of it." She stopped for an instant--her eyes full +of tears now. "And so," she went on presently, "I have let you speak +to-night because it was better, it was even necessary that I should do +so at once--because this could not go on--because you must go away +and--" + +"Necessary?" he repeated. "I--I do not understand." + +"No," she said helplessly; "you do not understand--and I--I cannot +explain. Oh, I do not know what to say to you, only that you must take +what I say, as you have taken me--at face value." + +"I do not understand," he said again. "Helena, I do not understand. Are +you in trouble--tell me?" + +"No," she said. + +"But I cannot go away like this!" he cried out suddenly. "I cannot go +and leave you, Helena. You have come into my life and filled it; and I +cannot let you pass out of it--like this--without an effort to hold what +has come to mean everything to me now. You may not love me now, but some +day--" + +She shook her head, interrupting him once more. + +"There can never be a 'some day,'" she said. "Oh, I do not want to hurt +you--you, to whom I owe more than you will ever know--but--but there can +never be anything between us, and--and we are only making it harder for +ourselves now--aren't we?" + +And then he leaned abruptly toward her. + +"Is there--some one else?" he asked in a strained voice. + +And to Helena the question came as though it had been an inspiration +given him--for after that he would ask no more, seek no more to +understand, for he was too big and strong and fine for that; and even if +it was hopeless now this love that she had known for Madison, even if it +could never be again, still that love was hers, and she could answer +truthfully. + +"Yes," she said beneath her breath. + +For a moment Thornton neither moved nor spoke. Then he held out his +hand. + +"Miss Vail," he said simply, "will you tell this 'some one else' that +another man beside himself is the better for having known you. +Good-night. And may God bring you happiness through all your life." + +But she did not speak--they were standing by the rustic bench and she +sank down upon it, and, with her head hidden in one arm outflung across +the back of the seat, was sobbing softly. + +And he stood and watched her for a little space, his face grave and +white; then taking the hand that lay listlessly in her lap, he raised it +to his lips--and turned away. + +And so he left her--and so, because of this, he knocked upon another +door that night, and all unwittingly gave to that "some one else" +himself the message that he had asked Helena to deliver. + +Madison, pacing his room like a caged beast, his teeth working upon the +cigar that he had never thought to light, paid no attention to the +summons until it had been repeated twice; then, with a glance around the +room, his eyes lingering for a critical instant upon the trunks, closed +now, the trays restored to their hiding places, he stepped to the door, +unlocked it, and flung it open. And at sight of Thornton, mechanically, +as second nature to him, outwardly, like a mask, there came a smile upon +his working lips, a suave, unconcerned composure to his face; while +inwardly, in his dazed, fogged brain where chaos raged, surged an +impulse to fling himself upon the other, wreck a mad vengeance upon the +man--and then swift upon the heels of this an impulse to refrain, for if +Helena was straight why should he harm Thornton--and then the shuttle +again--why should he not--hadn't Helena said that she had learned what +love was last night--and last night she had been with Thornton. How his +brain whirled! What had brought Thornton here, anyhow? If he stayed very +long perhaps he would batter Thornton to jelly after all! Quick, almost +instantaneous in their sequence came this wild jumble singing dizzily +its crazy refrain through his mind--and then to his amazement he heard +some one speaking pleasantly--and to his amazement it was himself. + +"Come in, Thornton. Come in--and take a chair." + +"Thanks," Thornton answered; and, entering the room, closed the door +behind him. "No; I won't sit down--I shall only remain a moment." + +The lamp was on the washstand, and, intuitively again, Madison shifted +his position to bring his face into shadow--and leaned against the foot +of the bed. He stared at Thornton, nodding--Thornton's face was white +and exceedingly haggard--rather curious for Thornton to look that way! + +"Madison," said Thornton abruptly, "I believe you to be a gentleman in +the best sense of the word, and because of that, and because of the +unusual circumstances that first brought us together and the mutual +interests that have since been ours, I have come to you to-night to tell +you, first, that I am going away from Needley and that I shall not +return--and then to ask a service and repose a trust in you. You have +said several times that you intended to remain here and take a personal +and active part in the work?" + +Madison removed the chewed cigar end from one corner of his mouth--and +placed it in the other. + +"Yes," said Madison. + +"Then this is what I want to say," said Thornton seriously. "For my own +sake, because it was my wife's wish, and for other reasons as well, my +interest here, though I am going away, will be just as great as it has +ever been; and so I want you to keep me thoroughly posted, and when the +time comes that I can be of further material assistance to let me know. +I impose only one condition--you are to say nothing to Miss Vail about +it--you can make anything that I may do appear to come from yourself." + +"Say nothing to Miss Vail!" repeated Madison vaguely--then a sort of +ironic jest seemed to take possession of him: "But Miss Vail keeps all +the funds." + +"That is why I am asking you to represent me," said Thornton quietly. "I +am afraid that she might have a natural diffidence about accepting +anything more from me--I asked Miss Vail to marry me to-night, and she +refused." + +The cigar kind of slid down unnoticed from the corner of Madison's +mouth--and he leaned forward, hanging with a hand behind him to the +bedpost--and stared at Thornton. + +"You--_what_!" he gasped. + +"Yes; I know," Thornton answered--and moved abruptly toward the door. +"Love makes one's temerity very great--doesn't it? I asked her to marry +me--because I loved her." He came back from the door and held out his +hand, "I've told you what I would tell no other man, Madison. You +understand now why--and you'll do this for me?" + +What answer Madison made he never knew himself--he only knew that he was +staring at the door after Thornton had gone out, and that he wanted to +laugh crazily. Marry Helena! Thornton had asked Helena to marry him +because he loved her. God, there was humor here! His brain itself seemed +to cackle at it--_marry_ Helena! + +And then suddenly there seemed no humor at all--only black, infamous +shame and condemnation--and he straightened up from where he leaned +against the bedpost, his face set and strained. + +"Thornton had asked Helena to marry him because he _loved_ her"--the +words came slowly, haltingly, aloud--and then he covered his face with +his hands. But he, he who loved her too--what had _he_ done! + + + + +--XXII-- + +THE SHRINE + + +For a little time Madison stood there in his room, motionless, staring +unseeingly before him--and then, as one awakening from a dream that had +brought dismay and a torment too realistic to be thrown from him on the +instant, his brain still a little blunted, he took up his hat +mechanically, went out from the room, descended by the back stairs to +the rear door of the hotel, and took the road to the Patriarch's +cottage. + +And as he walked in the freshness of the night, the restless turmoil of +his soul that since early afternoon had brought him near to the verge of +madness itself, that had robbed him of sane virility, that a moment +since in his room had suddenly begun to lift from him even as the leaden +clouds in the vault above him now were scattering, breaking, and through +the rifts a moon-glint and the starlight came, passed from him +utterly--and a strange calm, a strange joy, a strange sadness was upon +him--and his brain for the first time in many hours was rational, +keen--and he was master of himself again--and yet master of himself no +more! + +He smiled a little at the seeming paradox--smiled a little wistfully. He +was beaten--by the game--he had won. How strange it was that sense of +more than resignation now--a sense that seemed like one of +thankfulness--a sense that bade him fling wide his arms as though +suddenly they had been loosed from bondage and he was free, free as the +God-given air around him. + +He could understand Helena, and the Flopper, and Pale Face Harry now. +With them it had come slowly, in a gradual concatenation, a progression, +as it were, that had worked upon them, molding them, changing them day +by day--and he had been too blind to see, or, seeing, had measured the +changes only by a standard as false as all his life had been false. With +him it had come in a crash, unheralded, that had left him a naked, +quivering, stricken thing to know madness, terror and despair, to taste +of emotions that had sickened the soul itself. + +On Madison walked--along the road, across the little bridge, into the +wagon track where, under the arched branches, it was utter dark. There +was no one upon the road--he passed no one--saw no one--he was alone. + +He had lost Helena--but he understood her now--understood the depth of +remorse that she was living through, the terror and the dread as she +sought escape, the fear of him--yes, it would be fear now where once it +had been love! He had lost Helena--that was the price he had paid--but +he understood her now, and he was going to her to help her if he could, +going to tell her that he, too, was changed--as she was changed. + +His hands clenched suddenly. God, the misery, the hopelessness, the +wreck and ruin that lay at his door! And amends--what amends could he +make--it was too late for that! How clearly he saw now--when it was too +late! Her life was a broken thing, robbed, stripped and despoiled for +all the years to come. Their love had not been love--she had given it +its name--"passion, vice, lust, sin, degradation and misery and shame." +And then love had come to her, into her life, love as God had meant love +to be, and she had learned what love was she had said--only that she +might never know its fulness, only that it might bring her added +bitterness and added sorrow! Thornton had asked her to marry him that +night--and she had refused him--because the past, it must have been as a +shuddering, hideous phantom that the past had risen before her, had left +her no other thing to do but turn away. It seemed he could see her--see +her bury her face in her hands and-- + +He stopped short in his walk. Was he changed so much as this! Did he +care so much that it was her happiness--even with another--that counted +most! Yes; it was true--he was changed indeed. And the change had +brought him too, it seemed, to learn what love was--too late. + +He went forward again--a little more slowly; now; a sadness upon him, +but, through the sadness, an uplift from that new sense of freedom that +was as a balm, soothing him in the most curious way. His had been a rude +awakening--mind and body and soul had been torn asunder; but he knew +now, as he recalled the hours just past when he had looked on fear, when +the gamut of human passion had raged over him, when he had stood +staggered and appalled before, yes, before his God, that he had come +forth a new man. And how strange had been the ending, how strange and +simple, and yet how significant, typifying the broad, clean outlook on +life, bringing coherency to his tottering mind, had been those words of +Thornton's--"because he loved her." + +He had reached the end of the wagon track now, and he walked across the +lawn, his steps noiseless on the velvet sward, and passed between the +maples; and the moon gleam--for the flying clouds, rear-guard of the +routed storm, were flung wide apart, dispersed--fell upon a coiled and +huddled little figure all in white, that was quite still and motionless +upon the rustic seat beside the porch. + +She did not see him, did not hear him, until he stood before her and +called her name. + +"Helena!" he said unsteadily. "Helena!" + +She raised her head and looked at him; and then she rose from the bench, +and, still holding to it by one hand, drew back a little. There was no +outcry, no startled action. Her dark eyes played questioningly upon +him--and he could see that they were wet with tears, and that the face +from out of which they looked was very white. + +"Why have you come back here to-night?" she asked in a low tone; and +then, suddenly, a fear, a terror in her voice, as the Flopper's warning +flashed upon her: "Thornton--you have seen Thornton?" + +"Yes," he said, surprised a little that she should know; "I saw Thornton +a few minutes ago." + +She came toward him now and clutched his arm. + +"What have you done?" she cried tensely. "Answer me! You--you met him on +your way here?" + +It was a moment before Madison replied. He had schooled himself of +course for more than this, yet the words hurt--that was why she had +asked for Thornton--she was afraid that he had harmed the man. + +"No," he said; "I did not meet him. I think you must have been longer +here on that bench than you imagined--haven't you? He came to my room." + +"Your room! What for? Tell me!" + +Madison smiled with grave whimsicality. + +"To call me a gentleman and repose a trust." + +She stepped back again, uncertainly. + +"I do not know what you are talking about," she said in a strained way. +"And you are talking very strangely." + +"Yes," he said. "Everything is strange to-night. It is like a new world, +and--and I have not found my way--yet." + +She drew back still further. + +"Are you mad?" she whispered. + +"No," he answered. "Not now--that Is past." + +She looked at him for a little time; and, her hands joined before her, +her fingers locked and interlocked nervously. + +"And--and Thornton?" she asked, at last. + +"It was a trust," said Madison slowly; "but it was betrayed before it +was given. He did not know--the game. He did not know what was +between--you and me." + +"No," she said--and the word came almost inaudibly. + +"And so," he said, "I will tell you, for it cannot matter now in any +case. He told me that he had asked you to marry him to-night--and that +you had refused." + +Madison paused, and swept his hand across his forehead--his voice +somehow had suddenly grown hoarse, beyond control. + +"Yes," she said--and reached again for the back of the bench, supporting +herself against it. + +"He is going away," Madison continued; "and he is to send more money +here for the 'cause'--when I ask for it--only you are not to know, +because you might be diffident about taking it after refusing him." + +She stared at him numbly--there was no sarcasm in his words; in his +tones only a sort of dreary monotony. She shivered a little--how cold it +seemed! She did not quite grasp his words--and yet she shrank from them. +And then her very soul seemed to cry out against them, to pit itself +against their meaning, as their meaning surged upon her. And +unconsciously she drew herself up, and the whiteness of her face fled +before a rush of color. + +"Oh, the shame of it!" she burst out. "The bitter shame of it! You shall +not touch the money--do you hear! You shall not touch it! I--I thought +that you had understood this afternoon. I am glad then that you have +come to-night--if I must say more to make you understand. This is the +end! I do not care what happens--the little I can do now to atone for +what I have done, I am going to do. The game is at an end--you shall not +touch another cent--and everything that we have taken goes back to those +whom we have worse than robbed it from! You hear--you understand! I will +cry it out in the town street if there is no other way--but it shall +stop--it shall stop to-night"--she was panting, breathless, the little +figure erect, outraged, quivering--and then suddenly the shoulders +seemed to droop, the lips to tremble, and she was on her knees upon the +grass beside the bench, and sobbing as a child. + +"Helena!" Madison said hoarsely. "Helena! Listen! That is what I came +for to-night--to find a way out for you, for us all, if I can." + +The passionate outburst passed--and she was on her feet again, facing +him. + +"You are clever--clever!" she cried fiercely. "But you shall not play +with me--you shall not trick me--I meant every word I said!" + +But now Madison made no answer. The moonlight bathed them both in its +clear, white radiance; and touched the sward, shading it to softest +green; and the trees limned out like fairy things against the night; and +the calm light flooded the little cottage with its hidden walls where +the ivy and the creepers grew, and lingered over the trellises to drink +the fragrance of the flowers that peeped out from their leafy beds. And +upon Madison's face crept slowly the anguish that was in his soul--until +it was mirrored there--until unconsciously it answered her where words +would have been useless things. Like some white-robed, sorrowing angel, +she seemed, as she stood there before him--the brown eyes full of +shadow, troubled; the sweet face tear-splashed; the little figure in its +simple muslin frock, pitiful in its brave defiance. And pure--just God, +how pure she looked!--the brow stainless white under the mass of dark, +coiled hair; the perfect throat of ivory. And--and the misery that was +in every feature of her face, in every line of her poise--and he had +brought her that--_he_ had brought her to that--and now when he loved +her as he might have loved her once and known her love in return, when +his heart cried out for her, when she was all in life he cared for, she +was gone from him, out of his life, and between them was a barrier he +could never pass--a barrier of his own raising. + +And so he made no answer, for indeed he had not heard her; but she was +coming toward him now, her hands outstretched in a wondering way, +wistfully, pleadingly, as though to hold back a refutation that would +change the dawning light upon her face to dismay and grief again. + +"It--it is true," she faltered. "It has come to you too--this change, +this new life that has come to me. It is true--I can see it in your +face." + +"Yes; it is true," he answered, in a low voice. + +"Thank God!" she whispered--and hid her face in her hands--and presently +he heard her sob again. + +A tiny cloud edged the moon, and the light faded, and it grew dark, and +the darkness hid her; then softly, timidly almost it seemed, the +radiance came creeping through the branches overhead again--and then he +spoke. + +"Helena," he said, steadying his voice with an effort, "you spoke of +atonement a little while ago; but there is no atonement that I can make +to you--nothing that I can do to change what I would give my soul to +change. I know what it meant to you to send Thornton away to-night, for +I love you now as you love him--I know why you did it, and--" + +She was staring at him a little wildly--her hands pressed against her +cheeks. + +"Love--Thornton," she repeated in a sort of wondering way, a long pause +between the words. + +"Yes," he said gently; "I know. Have you forgotten what you told me this +afternoon?--that you had learned--last night--what love was." + +She shook her head. + +"I do not love Thornton," she said in a monotone. "And yet it is true +that through him I learned what love was, what it _could_ be--don't you +understand?" + +Understand! No; it seemed that he could never understand! She did not +love Thornton! And then, as some fiery cordial, the words seemed to whip +through his veins, quickening the beat of his heart into wild, +tumultuous throbbing. Yes, yes, he could understand--it was +true--true--she did not love Thornton. + +"Helena!" he cried--and stretched out his arms to her. "I thought, oh, +God, I thought that I had lost you--Helena!" + +But she did not move. + +"What does it matter to you whether I love Thornton or not?" she said +dully. "Does it change anything where you and I are concerned--does it +change what I told you this afternoon--that I would not go back to +_that_." + +"To that! Ah, no!"--his voice rang dominant, vibrant, triumphant now. +"Helena, don't you understand? We are to begin life again--in a new +way, the true way, the only way. Don't you see--I love you!" + +Still she did not move--but there was a great whiteness in her face, and +in the whiteness a great light. + +"You mean?"--her lips scarcely seemed to form the words. + +"Yes!" he cried. "Yes; to make a home for you, to marry you if only you +love me still, to live in God's own sight and hold you as a sacred +gift--Helena! Helena!"--his arms went out to her again, and the yearning +in his soul was in his voice--to crush her to him, to hold her in his +arms, and hold her there where none should take her from him, to shield +and guard her through the years to come, to live with her a life that +seemed to break now in a vista of gladness, of glory, as the day-dawn +breaks with its golden rays of God-given promise--the new life, perfect +and pure and innocent--because he loved her. "Helena! Speak to me. Tell +me that it is not too late--tell me that you love me too." + +And then her eyes were raised to his, and they were wet--but there was +love-light and a wondrous happiness shining through the tears. + +"Helena!" he murmured brokenly--and swept her into his arms--and kissed +the eyelids, lowered now, the hair, the white brow, the lips--kissed +her, and held her there, her clinging arms about his neck, her face half +hidden on his shoulder. + +And so for a space they stood there--and there were no words to say, +only the song in their hearts in deathless melody--but after a little +time he held her from him, and lifted up her face that he might look his +fill upon it. + +"Helena," he said, "I cannot understand it all yet--it is as though it +were born out of the sin and the darkness and the blackness of what is +gone--as though here at this Shrine that we created in mockery and crime +it was meant that you and I should save each other for each other. And +yet this Shrine as we have made it is a thing of guilt, and it has +brought us all, you and I, and Harry, and the Flopper to a new life." + +She lay still for a moment in his arms--then her hand crept up and +touched his forehead and smoothed back his hair. + +"I do not quite know how to say it," she said a little timidly. "When +you went away this afternoon, the Patriarch took me back into his room, +and--and I knelt at his knees--and after a little while my mind seemed +very calm and quiet--do you know what I mean? And I tried to think +things out--and understand. And it seemed to come to me that there was a +shrine everywhere if we would only look for it--that God has put a +shrine in every heart, only we are so blind--that every one can make +their own surroundings beautiful and good and true, no matter where they +are, or how poor, or how rich--and if they live like that they must be +good and true themselves." + +"Yes," he said slowly; then, after a moment: "And faith too is very much +like that." + +"Only some need a sign," she said. + +There was silence again, while her hand crept over his face and back to +his forehead to smooth his hair once more--and then very gently she +slipped out of his arms. + +"What are we to do about--about everything here?" she asked soberly. "We +are forgetting that in our own happiness. How are we going to return the +money that we have taken?" + +"I don't know yet," he answered. "I haven't thought much about it--but +we'll manage somehow." + +She shook her head. + +"I've thought a great deal about it since yesterday--and I'm not so sure +it is to be 'managed somehow'--and the more I've thought the more +tangled and complicated it has become." + +"Well, we'll untangle it to-morrow," said Madison, with a smile, "and--" + +"No"--she touched his sleeve. "To-night. Let us do it now--to-night. I +should be so happy then." + +He smiled at her again, and drew her to him. + +"But we ought to have Pale Face and the Flopper too, don't you think +so?" he said. + +"Of course," she said; "and so we will. The Flopper is here, and we can +send him for Harry. It's early yet--not ten o'clock." + +"All right," said Madison; "if you wish it. We'll go in then and get the +Flopper." + +And so they walked to the cottage door, and into the porch--but in the +porch Madison held her for a moment, and lifted up her face again and +looked into her eyes. + +"My--wife," he whispered--and took her in his arms. + + + + +--XXIII-- + +THE WAY OUT + + +Strange scene indeed! Strange antithesis to that other night when these +four were gathered in that crime-reeked, sordid room at the Roost--where +Pale Face Harry, gaunt, emaciated, coughed, and, trembling, plunged a +morphine needle in his arm; where the Flopper, a wretched tatterdemalion +from the gutter, licked greedy lips and gloated in his rascality; where +Helena, flushed-faced, inhaled her interminable cigarettes and dangled +her legs from the table edge; where Madison, suave, flippant, so certain +of his own infallibility, glorying in his crooked masterpiece, laid the +tribute to genius at his own feet! + +Strange scene! Strange antithesis indeed! It was quiet here--very +still--only the distant, muffled boom of the pounding surf. And the +shrine-room, for the first time since its creation, was locked against +the night. It lay now in shadow from the single lamp upon the table--and +the light, where it fell in a shortened circle, for the lamp itself had +a little green paper shade, was soft, subdued and mellow. + +Where he had been wont to sit in the days gone by, the Patriarch sat now +in his armchair by the empty fireplace--in the shadow--his head turned +in his strange, listening, attentive way toward the table--toward the +four who were grouped around it. There had been no one to stay with him +in his own room, and so Helena had brought him there--to play his silent +part. + +At the table, Pale Face Harry, bronzed and rugged, clear-eyed, a robust +figure from his clean living, his months of the out-of-doors, traced the +grain of the wood on the table mechanically with his finger nail, his +face sober, perplexed; while the Flopper, clear-eyed too, his face +almost a handsome one in its bright alertness, now that it had rounded +out and the hard, premature lines were gone, mirrored Pale Face Harry's +perturbed expression, his eyes fixed anxiously on Madison opposite him; +and Helena, sitting beside Madison, was very quiet, her forehead +wrinkled and pursed up into little furrows, the brown eyes with a hint +of dismay and consternation lurking in their depths, one hand stretched +out to lay quite unconsciously on Madison's sleeve--and from the sleeve +to steal occasionally into Madison's hand. + +Madison, his lips tight, pushed back his chair suddenly--they had been +sitting there an hour. + +"You were right, Helena," he said, with a nervous laugh. "The more you +try to figure it out the worse it gets." + +"Aw, say, Doc," pleaded the Flopper desperately, "don't youse give it +up--youse have got de head--youse ain't never left us in a hole yet." + +Madison looked at him, and smiled mirthlessly. + +"My head!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I got you into this, all of you--but +it will take more than my head to get you out. If I could stand for it +myself, I'd do it--but I can't without dragging you in too--we're too +intimately mixed up. If I said it was a deal of mine--they'd ask where +Helena came from--they'd ask where you came from, Flopper. We're +beaten--beaten every way we turn. The game has got us--we haven't a +move. We played it to the limit, the slickest swindle that was ever +worked, and it worked till there's more money than I've tried to count. +And then it changed us from thieves, from--from anything you like--and +now that we want to quit, now that we want a chance to make good, it's +got us in its grip and we can't get away." He flirted a bead of moisture +from his forehead. "My God, I don't know what to do!" he muttered +hoarsely. "It was easy enough to _talk_ about stopping this thing, about +returning the money--but I can't see the way out." + +No one answered him--all were silent--as silent as the mute and +venerable figure that sat, listening attentively it seemed, in the +armchair by the fireplace. + +Madison turned abruptly after a moment to Pale Face Harry. + +"You, Harry," he said, laying a hand on the other's shoulder, "you're +the only one of the four that can walk out of it--you don't show in the +center of the stage--you go. You said the old folks would cry over +you--twenty years is a long time to stay away from the old folks--I--I +never knew mine. You go on back to the little farm out there in the West +where you said you'd like to go, and--and give the old people a hand for +the years they've got left." + +Pale Face Harry shook his head. + +"God knows I'd like to," he said, choking a little; "that's what I +counted on. God knows I'd like to go out there and lead a decent +life--but I don't go that way--I don't crawl out and leave you--what's +coming to you is coming to me." + +"That won't help us any, Harry," said Madison softly, and his hand +tightened in an eloquent pressure on Pale Face Harry's shoulder. "You +go--and God bless you!" + +Again Pale Face Harry shook his head. + +"No," he said. "I stick. If the game's got you, it's got me too--to the +limit. There's no use talking about that." + +The Flopper licked his lips miserably. + +"Swipe me!" he mumbled. "Hell wasn't never like dis! Me an' Mamie we've +got it fixed, an' her old man says he'll take me inter de store. Say, +Doc, say--ain't dere a chanst ter live straight now we wants ter?" + +But Madison did not hear the Flopper save in a vague, inconsequential +way--he was looking at Helena. She had drooped forward a little over the +table, her chin in her hands, her lips quivering--and a white misery in +her face seemed to bring a chill, a numbness to his heart. His Hands +clenched, and he began to pace up and down the room. + +How buoyantly he had tackled the problem--buoyant in his own +emancipation, buoyant in his love, in the future full of dreams, full of +inspiration, full of the new life that Helena and he would live +together! How confidently he had settled himself to undo in a moment the +work of months, to outline a mere matter of detail, with never a thought +that he was face to face with a problem that he could never solve--that +brought him to the realization that the game, not he, was the master +still, iron-handed, implacable--that though the mental chains were +loosed it was but as if, in ironic justice, in grim punishment, only +that he might look, clear-visioned, upon the ignominy of the physical +shackles he himself had forged and fashioned so readily, whose breaking +now was beyond his strength. + +He had done his work well! In the first few moments, an hour ago, when +he had begun to consider the problem, as seeming difficulties arose, he +had turned coolly from one alternative to another. And then slowly a +sickening sense of the truth had begun to dawn upon him--and like a man +lost in a great forest, peril around him, he had plunged then +desperately in this direction and in that, as a glimmering point of +light here or there had seemed to promise an avenue of escape--only to +find it vanish at almost the first step, the way closed as by some +invisible, remorseless power. No, not invisible--it seemed to take the +form of the Patriarch--for at every turn the majestic figure stood and +would not let him pass. + +Madison's face was gray now as he walked up and down the room--there was +his own revulsion, his abhorrence at the part he had played, a frantic, +honorable eagerness to be rid of it; there were these others too who +looked to him, the Flopper and Pale Face Harry; and there was--Helena! +He did not dare to look at the misery in her face again--he was unmanned +enough now. + +And then Helena spoke. + +"It--it seems," she said, in a low broken way, "as if--as if God did not +want to pardon us--as if our repentance had come too late, and that +there was no Eleventh Hour for us." Then, in passionate pleading, facing +Madison: "God cannot mean that--it is we who cannot see. There is some +way out--there must be--there _must_ be." + +"It begins and ends with the Patriarch," said Madison monotonously. "We +can't sacrifice him--can we! What's the use of going over it again? It +all comes back to the same point--the Patriarch." + +"Yes, yes; I know, I know," she said piteously. "But think, +Doc--_think_! See now, we just send back all the money and jewels--we +know to whom they belong." + +"Well, what reason do we give?" Madison said heavily. "The Patriarch is +alive and well. The immediate corollary is that from the moment we do +that, to-morrow morning for instance, every gift, every offering here is +suddenly refused. What reason do we give? If it were only the donors who +were to be considered it might be done. It's human nature that +ninety-nine out of every hundred of them"--his voice rose a little +bitterly--"would probably be only too glad to get their money back--and +the mere statement that you, as the Patriarch's grand-niece, his only +relative, on mature thought did not consider the project as planned +advisable might suffice. But this thing goes beyond that, beyond even +the remaining few who are earnestly interested and would cause us +trouble--it is world-wide in its publicity! Every newspaper in the land +would snatch at it for a headline, and ask--why? And they would not be +content with simply asking why--this thing is too big for that--too much +before the people's eyes--too good 'copy.' They'd start in to find +out--and the result is inevitable. Our safety so far has lain in the +fact that there has been no suspicion aroused; but snooping around a +bank vault at midnight with a mask on and a bull's-eye lantern fades to +a whisper as a suspicion-arouser compared with anybody willingly +coughing up a bunch of money once they've got their claws on it--and a +yellow journal, let alone an army corps of them, on the scent of a +possible sensation has all the detective bureaus in the country pinned +to the ropes--they'd have us uncovered quicker than I like to think +about it--and that means--" + +He stopped, and with a hurried motion, carried his hands across his +eyes--Helena, pure as one of God's own angels now, to come to that, to +come to-- + +It was the Flopper who completed the sentence. + +"Ten spaces up de river," said the Flopper, and shivered, and his tongue +sought his lips; "or mabbe--mabbe twenty." + +Pale Face Harry stirred uneasily. + +"There's the other way," he said without looking up, his eyes on his +finger nail that traced the grain of the wood again. "Get the money and +the sparklers all done up and addressed to the ones they came from, send +'em off in a bunch to Thornton--and we fly the coop before he gets them, +disappear, fade away--and take our chances of getting caught." + +"An' den it's all off wid me an' Mamie"--the Flopper's face grew hard. +"Nix on dat! Dat don't go!" + +"We cannot do that, Harry," said Helena, in a tired voice. "There +is--the Patriarch." + +"Yes," said Madison, beginning his stride up and down the room again. +"After all, whether we could give back the money without being caught, +or whether we couldn't, is not the vital thing; there is--the +Patriarch." + +Helena's eyes were on the silent figure in the shadows by the fireplace. + +"If--if it were not for him," she said, "I think that perhaps--perhaps I +might be brave enough to confess it all, and--and not try to escape +from the punishment that I deserve. But he would know--he cannot see, +nor hear, nor speak, but he would know--as he seems so strangely, so +wonderfully, so supernaturally to know and understand everything. And, +oh, he means so much to me, to us all, for it is he, more than any one +else, who has saved us from--from what we were. And he loves us. It +would shatter his faith, ruin all that his life has meant to him, +and--and we cannot bring him grief and sorrow like that. Oh, what can we +do! What _can_ we do! We cannot stop--and we cannot go on! We cannot +stay here even if we returned the money successfully, and we cannot stay +here if we kept it as it is; for things would still have to go on as +they are, even if we didn't mean to steal any more, no matter what we +might say or do, for it's beyond our control now, and to stay means that +we should still have to live and lead our double lives, still have to +practise hypocrisy and deceit, and--and I cannot--we cannot do that any +more. And the only way to get away from it all is to run away--and we +can't do that, either! There is--the Patriarch. We cannot leave him--to +break his heart--with none he loves to care for him. We can't do that. +He is a very old, old man, and--and I think he has been happy with us, +and--and we must make him happy always as long as he lives. We cannot go +away and leave him. We can't do that." Then, in a heartbroken, +despairing cry: "We can't do--_anything_!" + +No one answered her. She had begged Madison to go over it all again--and +she had summed it up herself. There was--the Patriarch. + +There was utter silence in the room now, save only for that low, solemn +boom of distant surf--for Madison had stopped his nervous pacing up and +down, and stood now by the Patriarch's armchair gazing into the +fireplace. + +The minutes passed, and the silence in that dim, shadowed room grew +tense--and tenser still--until the very shadows themselves, as the lamp +flickered now and then, seemed to creep and shift and readjust +themselves in stealth. No sound--no movement--utter stillness--only, +from without, the mourning of the surf, like a dirge now. + +And then, with a sudden sob, Helena flung out her arms across the table +toward the Patriarch. + +"Oh, if he could only speak!" she cried pitifully. "If he could only +speak--he would show us the way out." + +The words seemed to come to Madison as an added pang. He turned his eyes +instinctively from the fireplace to the Patriarch beside him--and then, +a moment, as a man stricken, he stood there--and then reaching quickly +for the lamp from the table he held it up, and leaned forward toward the +figure in the chair. + +Helena, startled at the act, rose almost unconsciously to her feet, her +hands holding tightly to the table edge--looking at Madison, looking at +the silent form where Pale Face Harry, where the Flopper looked. + +"What is it?" she asked tensely, under her breath. + +Madison's lips moved--silently. His face was white, ashen--there was no +color in it. Then his lips moved once more. + +"The way out," he said; and again, in a low, awed way: "_The way out_. +We can make restitution now--we can give it all back--he _has_ shown us +the way out." + +Helena's lips were quivering, tears were dimming the brown eyes, +trembling on the lashes, as she stepped now to Madison's side. + +"It is God who has shown us the way out," she whispered brokenly--and +dropping down before the chair, her little form shaken with sobs, she +hid her face on the Patriarch's knees. + +And serene and peaceful as a child in sleep, a smile like a benediction +on the saintly face, the Patriarch sat in his armchair by the fireplace +where he had been wont to sit in years gone by--and so he had passed on. + +The Patriarch was dead. + + + + +--XXIV-- + +VALE! + + +The years have passed--but in their passing have brought few changes to +the little village nestling in the Maine pines that border on the sea. +Not many changes--it is as though Time had touched it loath to touch at +all; as though some spirit lingering there, sweet and fresh and vernal, +had bade Time stay its hand. + +Not many changes--the same familiar faces gather around the stove in the +hotel office; and, neither as a memory, nor yet as of one who has gone, +but as if he were amongst them, living still, they speak of the +Patriarch as of yore. + +And with this little circle of kindly, simple folk Time has dealt gently +too, for there is only one who is no more--Cale Rodgers, the proprietor +of the general store. + +But the general store on the village street still flourishes, and in +Cale Rodgers' place is one whose speech is still a marvelous thing in +staid old New England ears--it is an Irish brogue perhaps, for his name +is Michael Coogan. There are little Coogans too, and Mamie is a happy +wife. And to the Coogans come sometimes letters from a far-western farm +to say that things are well and that prosperity has come to one who +signs himself--facetiously it always seems to Mamie who reads the +letters to her husband--as Pale Face Harry. + +And so the years have passed, and it is summer time again. The fields +are green; the trees in leaf; the flowers in bloom. And there are +visitors who have come again to the scenes of yesterday--a man and +woman--and between them a sturdy little lad of eight. They stop at the +end of the wagon track and look out across the lawn. + +It is still and peaceful, tranquil--and to them conies the soft, low +murmur of the surf. Slowly they walk across the lawn, and pass beneath +the splendid maples--and pause again. + +The cottage is like some poet's fancy, hidden shyly in its creepers and +its vines; and seems to speak and breathe in its simple beauty of the +gentle soul who once had lived there--and loved his fellow-men. It is as +it always was, open, free for all to pass within who wish to enter; for +loving hands have cared for it, and grateful purses, opened to its +needs, have kept it as--a Shrine. + +But they do not enter now, for Madison points to where the sunlight, as +it glints through the trees at the far end of the cottage, falls on a +slender shaft of marble. + +"Let us go there, Helena," he said softly. + +And so they walked that way, past the trellises laden with flowers, +past the end of the cottage; and presently they stopped again where, +beneath the maples' shade, rises the pure white stone--and beyond it is +the sweep of the eternal sea. + +Madison, his hair streaking just a little gray at the temples now, +removed his hat--and his face softened, saddened, as he read the simple +inscription: + + THE PATRIARCH + +The boy glanced at his father a little wonderingly--and then spelt out +the words. He shook his head. + +"I don't know what that means," he said. "What does that word mean?" + +Madison patted his head. + +"You tell him, Helena," he said--and came and stood beside her. + +And so Helena told the boy in simple language as much of the Patriarch's +story as she thought he could understand--and when she had finished the +boy's face was aglow. + +"And!" he said breathlessly, "and--and did he ever do a really, +truly-truly miracle?" + +There was silence for an instant--then a tender smile came trembling to +Helena's lips, and into the brown eyes crept the love-light, as she +reached out to Madison and her hand found his and held it very tightly. + +And Madison bent and kissed her; and drew the little lad between them +and laid his hand on the boy's head, and answered for Helena. + +"Yes, my son," he said; "and some day when you are a man you will +understand how great a miracle it was." + + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Miracle Man, by Frank L. 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