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+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: 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. Packard
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