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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1620-0.txt b/1620-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e85a95d --- /dev/null +++ b/1620-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4342 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Lion and the Unicorn and Other Stories, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Lion and the Unicorn and Other Stories + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: January, 1999 [eBook #1620] +[Most recently updated: May 5, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Charles Keller and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION AND THE UNICORN *** + + + + +THE LION AND THE UNICORN + +By Richard Harding Davis + + + + + IN MEMORY OF MANY HOT DAYS AND SOME HOT CORNERS + THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO + LT.-COL. ARTHUR H. LEE, R.A. + British Military Attache with the United States Army + + + + +Contents + + THE LION AND THE UNICORN + + ON THE FEVER SHIP + + THE MAN WITH ONE TALENT + + THE VAGRANT + + THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER + + + + +THE LION AND THE UNICORN + +Prentiss had a long lease on the house, and because it stood in Jermyn +Street the upper floors were, as a matter of course, turned into +lodgings for single gentlemen; and because Prentiss was a Florist to the +Queen, he placed a lion and unicorn over his flowershop, just in front +of the middle window on the first floor. By stretching a little, each of +them could see into the window just beyond him, and could hear all that +was said inside; and such things as they saw and heard during the reign +of Captain Carrington, who moved in at the same time they did! By day +the table in the centre of the room was covered with maps, and the +Captain sat with a box of pins, with different-colored flags wrapped +around them, and amused himself by sticking them in the maps and +measuring the spaces in between, swearing meanwhile to himself. It was a +selfish amusement, but it appeared to be the Captain’s only intellectual +pursuit, for at night, the maps were rolled up, and a green cloth was +spread across the table, and there was much company and popping of +soda-bottles, and little heaps of gold and silver were moved this way +and that across the cloth. The smoke drifted out of the open windows, +and the laughter of the Captain’s guests rang out loudly in the empty +street, so that the policeman halted and raised his eyes reprovingly to +the lighted windows, and cabmen drew up beneath them and lay in wait, +dozing on their folded arms, for the Captain’s guests to depart. The +Lion and the Unicorn were rather ashamed of the scandal of it, and they +were glad when, one day, the Captain went away with his tin boxes and +gun-cases piled high on a four-wheeler. + +Prentiss stood on the sidewalk and said: “I wish you good luck, sir.” + And the Captain said: “I’m coming back a Major, Prentiss.” But he never +came back. And one day--the Lion remembered the day very well, for on +that same day the newsboys ran up and down Jermyn Street shouting out +the news of “a ’orrible disaster” to the British arms. It was then that +a young lady came to the door in a hansom, and Prentiss went out to meet +her and led her upstairs. They heard him unlock the Captain’s door and +say, “This is his room, miss,” and after he had gone they watched her +standing quite still by the centre table. She stood there for a very +long time looking slowly about her, and then she took a photograph of +the Captain from the frame on the mantel and slipped it into her pocket, +and when she went out again her veil was down, and she was crying. She +must have given Prentiss as much as a sovereign, for he called her “Your +ladyship,” which he never did under a sovereign. + +And she drove off, and they never saw her again either, nor could they +hear the address she gave the cabman. But it was somewhere up St. John’s +Wood way. + +After that the rooms were empty for some months, and the Lion and the +Unicorn were forced to amuse themselves with the beautiful ladies and +smart-looking men who came to Prentiss to buy flowers and “buttonholes,” + and the little round baskets of strawberries, and even the peaches +at three shillings each, which looked so tempting as they lay in the +window, wrapped up in cotton-wool, like jewels of great price. + +Then Philip Carroll, the American gentleman, came, and they heard +Prentiss telling him that those rooms had always let for five guineas +a week, which they knew was not true; but they also knew that in the +economy of nations there must always be a higher price for the rich +American, or else why was he given that strange accent, except to betray +him into the hands of the London shopkeeper, and the London cabby? + +The American walked to the window toward the west, which was the window +nearest the Lion, and looked out into the graveyard of St. James’s +Church, that stretched between their street and Piccadilly. + +“You’re lucky in having a bit of green to look out on,” he said to +Prentiss. “I’ll take these rooms--at five guineas. That’s more than +they’re worth, you know, but as I know it, too, your conscience needn’t +trouble you.” + +Then his eyes fell on the Lion, and he nodded to him gravely. “How do +you do?” he said. “I’m coming to live with you for a little time. I +have read about you and your friends over there. It is a hazard of new +fortunes with me, your Majesty, so be kind to me, and if I win, I will +put a new coat of paint on your shield and gild you all over again.” + +Prentiss smiled obsequiously at the American’s pleasantry, but the new +lodger only stared at him. + +“He seemed a social gentleman,” said the Unicorn, that night, when the +Lion and he were talking it over. “Now the Captain, the whole time he +was here, never gave us so much as a look. This one says he has read of +us.” + +“And why not?” growled the Lion. “I hope Prentiss heard what he said of +our needing a new layer of gilt. It’s disgraceful. You can see that Lion +over Scarlett’s, the butcher, as far as Regent Street, and Scarlett is +only one of Salisbury’s creations. He received his Letters-Patent only +two years back. We date from Palmerston.” + +The lodger came up the street just at that moment, and stopped and +looked up at the Lion and the Unicorn from the sidewalk, before he +opened the door with his night-key. They heard him enter the room and +feel on the mantel for his pipe, and a moment later he appeared at the +Lion’s window and leaned on the sill, looking down into the street below +and blowing whiffs of smoke up into the warm night-air. + +It was a night in June, and the pavements were dry under foot and the +streets were filled with well-dressed people, going home from the play, +and with groups of men in black and white, making their way to supper +at the clubs. Hansoms of inky-black, with shining lamps inside and out, +dashed noiselessly past on mysterious errands, chasing close on each +other’s heels on a mad race, each to its separate goal. From the cross +streets rose the noises of early night, the rumble of the ’buses, the +creaking of their brakes, as they unlocked, the cries of the “extras,” + and the merging of thousands of human voices in a dull murmur. The great +world of London was closing its shutters for the night, and putting out +the lights; and the new lodger from across the sea listened to it with +his heart beating quickly, and laughed to stifle the touch of fear and +homesickness that rose in him. + +“I have seen a great play to-night,” he said to the Lion, “nobly played +by great players. What will they care for my poor wares? I see that I +have been over-bold. But we cannot go back now--not yet.” + +He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and nodded “good-night” to the +great world beyond his window. “What fortunes lie with ye, ye lights of +London town?” he quoted, smiling. And they heard him close the door of +his bedroom, and lock it for the night. + +The next morning he bought many geraniums from Prentiss and placed them +along the broad cornice that stretched across the front of the house +over the shop window. The flowers made a band of scarlet on either side +of the Lion as brilliant as a Tommy’s jacket. + +“I am trying to propitiate the British Lion by placing flowers before +his altar,” the American said that morning to a visitor. + +“The British public you mean,” said the visitor; “they are each likely +to tear you to pieces.” + +“Yes, I have heard that the pit on the first night of a bad play is +something awful,” hazarded the American. + +“Wait and see,” said the visitor. + +“Thank you,” said the American, meekly. + +Every one who came to the first floor front talked about a play. It +seemed to be something of great moment to the American. It was only a +bundle of leaves printed in red and black inks and bound in brown +paper covers. There were two of them, and the American called them by +different names: one was his comedy and one was his tragedy. + +“They are both likely to be tragedies,” the Lion heard one of the +visitors say to another, as they drove away together. “Our young friend +takes it too seriously.” + +The American spent most of his time by his desk at the window writing on +little blue pads and tearing up what he wrote, or in reading over one of +the plays to himself in a loud voice. In time the number of his visitors +increased, and to some of these he would read his play; and after they +had left him he was either depressed and silent or excited and jubilant. +The Lion could always tell when he was happy because then he would go to +the side table and pour himself out a drink and say, “Here’s to me,” but +when he was depressed he would stand holding the glass in his hand, and +finally pour the liquor back into the bottle again and say, “What’s the +use of that?” + +After he had been in London a month he wrote less and was more +frequently abroad, sallying forth in beautiful raiment, and coming home +by daylight. + +And he gave suppers too, but they were less noisy than the Captain’s had +been, and the women who came to them were much more beautiful, and their +voices when they spoke were sweet and low. Sometimes one of the women +sang, and the men sat in silence while the people in the street below +stopped to listen, and would say, “Why, that is So-and-So singing,” and +the Lion and the Unicorn wondered how they could know who it was when +they could not see her. + +The lodger’s visitors came to see him at all hours. They seemed to +regard his rooms as a club, where they could always come for a bite to +eat or to write notes; and others treated it like a lawyer’s office and +asked advice on all manner of strange subjects. Sometimes the visitor +wanted to know whether the American thought she ought to take £10 a +week and go on tour, or stay in town and try to live on £8; or whether +she should paint landscapes that would not sell, or racehorses that +would; or whether Reggie really loved her and whether she really loved +Reggie; or whether the new part in the piece at the Court was better +than the old part at Terry’s, and wasn’t she getting too old to play +“ingenues” anyway. + +The lodger seemed to be a general adviser, and smoked and listened +with grave consideration, and the Unicorn thought his judgment was most +sympathetic and sensible. + +Of all the beautiful ladies who came to call on the lodger the one the +Unicorn liked the best was the one who wanted to know whether she loved +Reggie and whether Reggie loved her. She discussed this so interestingly +while she consumed tea and thin slices of bread that the Unicorn almost +lost his balance in leaning forward to listen. Her name was Marion +Cavendish and it was written over many photographs which stood in silver +frames in the lodger’s rooms. She used to make the tea herself, while +the lodger sat and smoked; and she had a fascinating way of doubling the +thin slices of bread into long strips and nibbling at them like a mouse +at a piece of cheese. She had wonderful little teeth and Cupid’s-bow +lips, and she had a fashion of lifting her veil only high enough for one +to see the two Cupid-bow lips. When she did that the American used to +laugh, at nothing apparently, and say, “Oh, I guess Reggie loves you +well enough.” + +“But do I love Reggie?” she would ask sadly, with her tea-cup held +poised in air. + +“I am sure I hope not,” the lodger would reply, and she would put down +the veil quickly, as one would drop a curtain over a beautiful picture, +and rise with great dignity and say, “if you talk like that I shall not +come again.” + +She was sure that if she could only get some work to do her head would +be filled with more important matters than whether Reggie loved her or +not. + +“But the managers seem inclined to cut their cavendish very fine just +at present,” she said. “If I don’t get a part soon,” she announced, “I +shall ask Mitchell to put me down on the list for recitations at evening +parties.” + +“That seems a desperate revenge,” said the American; “and besides, I +don’t want you to get a part, because some one might be idiotic enough +to take my comedy, and if he should, you must play Nancy.” + +“I would not ask for any salary if I could play Nancy,” Miss Cavendish +answered. + +They spoke of a great many things, but their talk always ended by her +saying that there must be some one with sufficient sense to see that +his play was a great play, and by his saying that none but she must play +Nancy. + +The Lion preferred the tall girl with masses and folds of brown hair, +who came from America to paint miniatures of the British aristocracy. +Her name was Helen Cabot, and he liked her because she was so brave and +fearless, and so determined to be independent of every one, even of the +lodger--especially of the lodger, who it appeared had known her +very well at home. The lodger, they gathered, did not wish her to be +independent of him and the two Americans had many arguments and disputes +about it, but she always said, “It does no good, Philip; it only hurts +us both when you talk so. I care for nothing, and for no one but my art, +and, poor as it is, it means everything to me, and you do not, and, of +course, the man I am to marry, must.” Then Carroll would talk, walking +up and down, and looking very fierce and determined, and telling her +how he loved her in such a way that it made her look even more proud and +beautiful. And she would say more gently, “It is very fine to think that +any one can care for like that, and very helpful. But unless I cared in +the same way it would be wicked of me to marry you, and besides--” She +would add very quickly to prevent his speaking again--“I don’t want +to marry you or anybody, and I never shall. I want to be free and to +succeed in my work, just as you want to succeed in your work. So please +never speak of this again.” When she went away the lodger used to sit +smoking in the big arm-chair and beat the arms with his hands, and he +would pace up and down the room while his work would lie untouched and +his engagements pass forgotten. + +Summer came and London was deserted, dull, and dusty, but the lodger +stayed on in Jermyn Street. Helen Cabot had departed on a round of +visits to country houses in Scotland, where, as she wrote him, she was +painting miniatures of her hosts and studying the game of golf. Miss +Cavendish divided her days between the river and one of the West End +theatres. She was playing a small part in a farce-comedy. + +One day she came up from Cookham earlier than usual, looking very +beautiful in a white boating frock and a straw hat with a Leander +ribbon. Her hands and arms were hard with dragging a punting pole and +she was sunburnt and happy, and hungry for tea. + +“Why don’t you come down to Cookham and get out of this heat?” Miss +Cavendish asked. “You need it; you look ill.” + +“I’d like to, but I can’t,” said Carroll. “The fact is, I paid in +advance for these rooms, and if I lived anywhere else I’d be losing five +guineas a week on them.” + +Miss Cavendish regarded him severely. She had never quite mastered his +American humor. + +“But five guineas--why that’s nothing to you,” she said. Something in +the lodger’s face made her pause. “You don’t mean----” + +“Yes, I do,” said the lodger, smiling. “You see, I started in to lay +siege to London without sufficient ammunition. London is a large +town, and it didn’t fall as quickly as I thought it would. So I am +economizing. Mr. Lockhart’s Coffee Rooms and I are no longer strangers.” + +Miss Cavendish put down her cup of tea untasted and leaned toward him + +“Are you in earnest?” she asked. “For how long?” + +“Oh, for the last month,” replied the lodger; “they are not at all +bad--clean and wholesome and all that.” + +“But the suppers you gave us, and this,” she cried, suddenly, waving her +hands over the pretty tea-things, “and the cake and muffins?” + +“My friends, at least,” said Carroll, “need not go to Lockhart’s.” + +“And the Savoy?” asked Miss Cavendish, mournfully shaking her head. + +“A dream of the past,” said Carroll, waving his pipe through the +smoke. “Gatti’s? Yes, on special occasions; but for necessity, the +Chancellor’s, where one gets a piece of the prime roast beef of Old +England, from Chicago, and potatoes for ninepence--a pot of bitter +twopence-halfpenny, and a penny for the waiter. It’s most amusing on +the whole. I am learning a little about London, and some things about +myself. They are both most interesting subjects.” + +“Well, I don’t like it,” Miss Cavendish declared helplessly. “When I +think of those suppers and the flowers, I feel--I feel like a robber.” + +“Don’t,” begged Carroll. “I am really the most happy of men--that is, as +the chap says in the play, I would be if I wasn’t so damned miserable. +But I owe no man a penny and I have assets--I have £80 to last me +through the winter and two marvellous plays; and I love, next to +yourself, the most wonderful woman God ever made. That’s enough.” + +“But I thought you made such a lot of money by writing?” asked Miss +Cavendish. + +“I do--that is, I could,” answered Carroll, “if I wrote the things that +sell; but I keep on writing plays that won’t.” + +“And such plays!” exclaimed Marion, warmly; “and to think that they are +going begging.” She continued indignantly, “I can’t imagine what the +managers do want.” + +“I know what they don’t want,” said the American. Miss Cavendish drummed +impatiently on the tea-tray. + +“I wish you wouldn’t be so abject about it,” she said. “If I were a man +I’d make them take those plays.” + +“How?” asked the American; “with a gun?” + +“Well, I’d keep at it until they read them,” declared Marion. “I’d sit +on their front steps all night and I’d follow them in cabs, and I’d lie +in wait for them at the stage-door. I’d just make them take them.” + +Carroll sighed and stared at the ceiling. “I guess I’ll give up and go +home,” he said. + +“Oh, yes, do, run away before you are beaten,” said Miss Cavendish, +scornfully. “Why, you can’t go now. Everybody will be back in town soon, +and there are a lot of new plays coming on, and some of them are sure +to be failures, and that’s our chance. You rush in with your piece and +somebody may take it sooner than close the theatre.” + +“I’m thinking of closing the theatre myself,” said Carroll. “What’s the +use of my hanging on here?” he exclaimed. “It distresses Helen to know I +am in London, feeling about her as I do--and the Lord only knows how it +distresses me. And, maybe, if I went away,” he said, consciously, “she +might miss me. She might see the difference.” + +Miss Cavendish held herself erect and pressed her lips together with a +severe smile. “If Helen Cabot doesn’t see the difference between you +and the other men she knows now,” she said, “I doubt if she ever will. +Besides--” she continued, and then hesitated. “Well, go on,” urged +Carroll. + +“Well, I was only going to say,” she explained, “that leaving the girl +alone never did the man any good unless he left her alone willingly. +If she’s sure he still cares, it’s just the same to her where he is. He +might as well stay on in London as go to South Africa. It won’t help +him any. The difference comes when she finds he has stopped caring. Why, +look at Reggie. He tried that. He went away for ever so long, but +he kept writing me from wherever he went, so that he was perfectly +miserable--and I went on enjoying myself. Then when he came back, he +tried going about with his old friends again. He used to come to the +theatre with them--oh, with such nice girls--but he always stood in the +back of the box and yawned and scowled--so I knew. And, anyway, he’d +always spoil it all by leaving them and waiting at the stage entrance +for me. But one day he got tired of the way I treated him and went +off on a bicycle tour with Lady Hacksher’s girls and some men from his +regiment, and he was gone three weeks and never sent me even a line; and +I got so scared; I couldn’t sleep, and I stood it for three days more, +and then I wired him to come back or I’d jump off London Bridge; and he +came back that very night from Edinburgh on the express, and I was so +glad to see him that I got confused, and in the general excitement I +promised to marry him, so that’s how it was with us.” + +“Yes,” said the American, without enthusiasm; “but then I still care, +and Helen knows I care.” + +“Doesn’t she ever fancy that you might care for some one else? You have +a lot of friends, you know.” + +“Yes, but she knows they are just that--friends,” said the American. + +Miss Cavendish stood up to go, and arranged her veil before the mirror +above the fireplace. + +“I come here very often to tea,” she said. + +“It’s very kind of you,” said Carroll. He was at the open window, +looking down into the street for a cab. + +“Well, no one knows I am engaged to Reggie,” continued Miss Cavendish, +“except you and Reggie, and he isn’t so sure. SHE doesn’t know it.” + +“Well?” said Carroll. + +Miss Cavendish smiled a mischievous kindly smile at him from the mirror. + +“Well?” she repeated, mockingly. Carroll stared at her and laughed. +After a pause he said: “It’s like a plot in a comedy. But I’m afraid I’m +too serious for play-acting.” + +“Yes, it is serious,” said Miss Cavendish. She seated herself again +and regarded the American thoughtfully. “You are too good a man to be +treated the way that girl is treating you, and no one knows it better +than she does. She’ll change in time, but just now she thinks she wants +to be independent. She’s in love with this picture-painting idea, and +with the people she meets. It’s all new to her--the fuss they make over +her and the titles, and the way she is asked about. We know she can’t +paint. We know they only give her commissions because she’s so young +and pretty, and American. She amuses them, that’s all. Well, that cannot +last; she’ll find it out. She’s too clever a girl, and she is too fine +a girl to be content with that long. Then--then she’ll come back to you. +She feels now that she has both you and the others, and she’s making +you wait: so wait and be cheerful. She’s worth waiting for; she’s young, +that’s all. She’ll see the difference in time. But, in the meanwhile, it +would hurry matters a bit if she thought she had to choose between the +new friends and you.” + +“She could still keep her friends, and marry me,” said Carroll; “I have +told her that a hundred times. She could still paint miniatures and +marry me. But she won’t marry me.” + +“She won’t marry you because she knows she can whenever she wants to;” + cried Marion. “Can’t you see that? But if she thought you were going to +marry some one else now?” + +“She would be the first to congratulate me,” said Carroll. He rose and +walked to the fireplace, where he leaned with his arm on the mantel. +There was a photograph of Helen Cabot near his hand, and he turned this +toward him and stood for some time staring at it. “My dear Marion,” he +said at last, “I’ve known Helen ever since she was as young as that. +Every year I’ve loved her more, and found new things in her to care for; +now I love her more than any other man ever loved any other woman.” + +Miss Cavendish shook her head sympathetically. + +“Yes, I know,” she said; “that’s the way Reggie loves me, too.” + +Carroll went on as though he had not heard her. + +“There’s a bench in St. James’s Park,” he said, “where we used to sit +when she first came here, when she didn’t know so many people. We used +to go there in the morning and throw penny buns to the ducks. That’s +been my amusement this summer since you’ve all been away--sitting on +that bench, feeding penny buns to the silly ducks--especially the black +one, the one she used to like best. And I make pilgrimages to all the +other places we ever visited together, and try to pretend she is with +me. And I support the crossing sweeper at Lansdowne Passage because she +once said she felt sorry for him. I do all the other absurd things that +a man in love tortures himself by doing. But to what end? She knows how +I care, and yet she won’t see why we can’t go on being friends as we +once were. What’s the use of it all?” + +“She is young, I tell you,” repeated Miss Cavendish, “and she’s too sure +of you. You’ve told her you care; now try making her think you don’t +care.” + +Carroll shook his head impatiently. + +“I will not stoop to such tricks and pretence, Marion,” he cried +impatiently. “All I have is my love for her; if I have to cheat and to +trap her into caring, the whole thing would be degraded.” + +Miss Cavendish shrugged her shoulders and walked to the door. “Such +amateurs!” she exclaimed, and banged the door after her. + +Carroll never quite knew how he had come to make a confidante of Miss +Cavendish. Helen and he had met her when they first arrived in London, +and as she had acted for a season in the United States, she adopted +the two Americans--and told Helen where to go for boots and hats, and +advised Carroll about placing his plays. Helen soon made other friends, +and deserted the artists, with whom her work had first thrown her. She +seemed to prefer the society of the people who bought her paintings, and +who admired and made much of the painter. As she was very beautiful and +at an age when she enjoyed everything in life keenly and eagerly, to +give her pleasure was in itself a distinct pleasure; and the worldly +tired people she met were considering their own entertainment quite +as much as hers when they asked her to their dinners and dances, or +to spend a week with them in the country. In her way, she was as +independent as was Carroll in his, and as she was not in love, as he +was, her life was not narrowed down to but one ideal. But she was not +so young as to consider herself infallible, and she had one excellent +friend on whom she was dependent for advice and to whose directions she +submitted implicitly. This was Lady Gower, the only person to whom Helen +had spoken of Carroll and of his great feeling for her. Lady Gower, +immediately after her marriage, had been a conspicuous and brilliant +figure in that set in London which works eighteen hours a day to keep +itself amused, but after the death of her husband she had disappeared +into the country as completely as though she had entered a convent, +and after several years had then re-entered the world as a professional +philanthropist. Her name was now associated entirely with Women’s +Leagues, with committees that presented petitions to Parliament, and +with public meetings, at which she spoke with marvellous ease and +effect. Her old friends said she had taken up this new pose as an outlet +for her nervous energies, and as an effort to forget the man who alone +had made life serious to her. Others knew her as an earnest woman, +acting honestly for what she thought was right. Her success, all +admitted, was due to her knowledge of the world and to her sense of +humor, which taught her with whom to use her wealth and position, and +when to demand what she wanted solely on the ground that the cause was +just. + +She had taken more than a fancy for Helen, and the position of the +beautiful, motherless girl had appealed to her as one filled with +dangers. When she grew to know Helen better, she recognized that these +fears were quite unnecessary, and as she saw more of her she learned +to care for her deeply. Helen had told her much of Carroll and of his +double purpose in coming to London; of his brilliant work and his lack +of success in having it recognized; and of his great and loyal devotion +to her, and of his lack of success, not in having that recognized, but +in her own inability to return it. Helen was proud that she had been +able to make Carroll care for her as he did, and that there was anything +about her which could inspire a man whom she admired so much, to believe +in her so absolutely and for so long a time. But what convinced her that +the outcome for which he hoped was impossible, was the very fact that +she could admire him, and see how fine and unselfish his love for her +was, and yet remain untouched by it. + +She had been telling Lady Gower one day of the care he had taken of her +ever since she was fourteen years of age, and had quoted some of the +friendly and loverlike acts he had performed in her service, until one +day they had both found out that his attitude of the elder brother was +no longer possible, and that he loved her in the old and only way. Lady +Gower looked at her rather doubtfully and smiled. + +“I wish you would bring him to see me, Helen” she said; “I think I +should like your friend very much. From what you tell me of him I doubt +if you will find many such men waiting for you in this country. Our men +marry for reasons of property, or they love blindly, and are exacting +and selfish before and after they are married. I know, because so many +women came to me when my husband was alive to ask how it was that I +continued so happy in my married life.” + +“But I don’t want to marry any one,” Helen remonstrated gently. +“American girls are not always thinking only of getting married.” + +“What I meant was this,” said Lady Gower, “that, in my experience, I +have heard of but few men who care in the way this young man seems to +care for you. You say you do not love him; but if he had wanted to gain +my interest, he could not have pleaded his cause better than you have +done. He seems to see your faults and yet love you still, in spite of +them--or on account of them. And I like the things he does for you. I +like, for instance, his sending you the book of the moment every week +for two years. That shows a most unswerving spirit of devotion. And the +story of the broken bridge in the woods is a wonderful story. If I were +a young girl, I could love a man for that alone. It was a beautiful +thing to do.” + +Helen sat with her chin on her hands, deeply considering this new point +of view. + +“I thought it very foolish of him,” she confessed questioningly, “to +take such a risk for such a little thing.” + +Lady Gower smiled down at her from the height of her many years. + +“Wait,” she said dryly, “you are very young now--and very rich; every +one is crowding to give you pleasure, to show his admiration. You are +a very fortunate girl. But later, these things which some man has done +because he loved you, and which you call foolish, will grow large in +your life, and shine out strongly, and when you are discouraged and +alone, you will take them out, and the memory of them will make you +proud and happy. They are the honors which women wear in secret.” + +Helen came back to town in September, and for the first few days was so +occupied in refurnishing her studio and in visiting the shops that she +neglected to send Carroll word of her return. When she found that a +whole week had passed without her having made any effort to see him, +and appreciated how the fact would hurt her friend, she was filled with +remorse, and drove at once in great haste to Jermyn Street, to announce +her return in person. On the way she decided that she would soften the +blow of her week of neglect by asking him to take her out to luncheon. +This privilege she had once or twice accorded him, and she felt that the +pleasure these excursions gave Carroll were worth the consternation they +caused to Lady Gower. + +The servant was uncertain whether Mr. Carroll was at home or not, but +Helen was too intent upon making restitution to wait for the fact to be +determined, and, running up the stairs, knocked sharply at the door of +his study. + +A voice bade her come in, and she entered, radiant and smiling her +welcome. But Carroll was not there to receive it, and instead, Marion +Cavendish looked up at her from his desk where she was busily writing. +Helen paused with a surprised laugh, but Marion sprang up and hailed her +gladly. They met half way across the room and kissed each other with the +most friendly feeling. + +Philip was out, Marion said, and she had just stepped in for a moment to +write him a note. If Helen would excuse her, she would finish it, as she +was late for rehearsal. + +But she asked over her shoulder, with great interest, if Helen had +passed a pleasant summer. She thought she had never seen her looking so +well. Helen thought Miss Cavendish herself was looking very well also, +but Marion said no; that she was too sunburnt, she would not be able to +wear a dinner-dress for a month. There was a pause while Marion’s quill +scratched violently across Carroll’s note-paper. Helen felt that in some +way she was being treated as an intruder; or worse, as a guest. She did +not sit down, it seemed impossible to do so, but she moved uncertainly +about the room. She noted that there were many changes, it seemed more +bare and empty; her picture was still on the writing-desk, but there +were at least six new photographs of Marion. Marion herself had brought +them to the room that morning, and had carefully arranged them in +conspicuous places. But Helen could not know that. She thought there was +an unnecessary amount of writing scribbled over the face of each. + +Marion addressed her letter and wrote “Immediate” across the envelope, +and placed it before the clock on the mantelshelf. “You will find Philip +looking very badly,” she said, as she pulled on her gloves. “He has been +in town all summer, working very hard--he has had no holiday at all. I +don’t think he’s well. I have been a great deal worried about him,” she +added. Her face was bent over the buttons of her glove, and when she +raised her blue eyes to Helen they were filled with serious concern. + +“Really,” Helen stammered, “I--I didn’t know--in his letters he seemed +very cheerful.” + +Marion shook her head and turned and stood looking thoughtfully out of +the window. “He’s in a very hard place,” she began abruptly, and then +stopped as though she had thought better of what she intended to say. +Helen tried to ask her to go on, but could not bring herself to do so. +She wanted to get away. + +“I tell him he ought to leave London,” Marion began again; “he needs a +change and a rest.” + +“I should think he might,” Helen agreed, “after three months of this +heat. He wrote me he intended going to Herne Bay or over to Ostend.” + +“Yes, he had meant to go,” Marion answered. She spoke with the air of +one who possessed the most intimate knowledge of Carroll’s movements and +plans, and change of plans. “But he couldn’t,” she added. “He couldn’t +afford it. Helen,” she said, turning to the other girl, dramatically, +“do you know--I believe that Philip is very poor.” + +Miss Cabot exclaimed incredulously, “Poor!” She laughed. “Why, what do +you mean?” + +“I mean that he has no money,” Marion answered, sharply. “These rooms +represent nothing. He only keeps them on because he paid for them in +advance. He’s been living on three shillings a day. That’s poor for him. +He takes his meals at cabmen’s shelters and at Lockhart’s, and he’s been +doing so for a month.” + +Helen recalled with a guilty thrill the receipt of certain boxes of +La France roses--cut long, in the American fashion--which had arrived +within the last month at various country houses. She felt indignant +at herself, and miserable. Her indignation was largely due to the +recollection that she had given these flowers to her hostess to decorate +the dinner-table. + +She hated to ask this girl of things which she should have known better +than any one else. But she forced herself to do it. She felt she must +know certainly and at once. + +“How do you know this?” she asked. “Are you sure there is no mistake?” + +“He told me himself,” said Marion, “when he talked of letting the plays +go and returning to America. He said he must go back; that his money was +gone.” + +“He is gone to America!” Helen said, blankly. + +“No, he wanted to go, but I wouldn’t let him,” Marion went on. “I told +him that some one might take his play any day. And this third one he has +written, the one he finished this summer in town, is the best of all, I +think. It’s a love-story. It’s quite beautiful.” She turned and +arranged her veil at the glass, and as she did so, her eyes fell on the +photographs of herself scattered over the mantelpiece, and she smiled +slightly. But Helen did not see her--she was sitting down now, pulling +at the books on the table. She was confused and disturbed by emotions +which were quite strange to her, and when Marion bade her good-by she +hardly noticed her departure. What impressed her most of all in what +Marion had told her, was, she was surprised to find, that Philip was +going away. That she herself had frequently urged him to do so, for his +own peace of mind, seemed now of no consequence. Now that he seriously +contemplated it, she recognized that his absence meant to her a change +in everything. She felt for the first time the peculiar place he held +in her life. Even if she had seen him but seldom, the fact that he was +within call had been more of a comfort and a necessity to her than she +understood. + +That he was poor, concerned her chiefly because she knew that, although +this condition could only be but temporary, it would distress him not to +have his friends around him, and to entertain them as he had been used +to do. She wondered eagerly if she might offer to help him, but a second +thought assured her that, for a man, that sort of help from a woman was +impossible. + +She resented the fact that Marion was deep in his confidence; that it +was Marion who had told her of his changed condition and of his plans. +It annoyed her so acutely that she could not remain in the room where +she had seen her so complacently in possession. And after leaving a +brief note for Philip, she went away. She stopped a hansom at the door, +and told the man to drive along the Embankment--she wanted to be quite +alone, and she felt she could see no one until she had thought it all +out, and had analyzed the new feelings. + +So for several hours she drove slowly up and down, sunk far back in +the cushions of the cab, and staring with unseeing eyes at the white +enamelled tariff and the black dash-board. + +She assured herself that she was not jealous of Marion, because, in +order to be jealous, she first would have to care for Philip in the very +way she could not bring herself to do. + +She decided that his interest in Marion hurt her, because it showed that +Philip was not capable of remaining true to the one ideal of his life. +She was sure that this explained her feelings--she was disappointed that +he had not kept up to his own standard; that he was weak enough to turn +aside from it for the first pretty pair of eyes. But she was too honest +and too just to accept that diagnosis of her feelings as final--she knew +there had been many pairs of eyes in America and in London, and that +though Philip had seen them, he had not answered them when they spoke. +No, she confessed frankly, she was hurt with herself for neglecting her +old friend so selfishly and for so long a time; his love gave him claims +on her consideration, at least, and she had forgotten that and him, and +had run after strange gods and allowed others to come in and take her +place, and to give him the sympathy and help which she should have been +the first to offer, and which would have counted more when coming from +her than from any one else. She determined to make amends at once +for her thoughtlessness and selfishness, and her brain was pleasantly +occupied with plans and acts of kindness. It was a new entertainment, +and she found she delighted in it. She directed the cabman to go to +Solomons’s, and from there sent Philip a bunch of flowers and a line +saying that on the following day she was coming to take tea with him. +She had a guilty feeling that he might consider her friendly advances +more seriously than she meant them, but it was her pleasure to be +reckless: her feelings were running riotously, and the sensation was so +new that she refused to be circumspect or to consider consequences. Who +could tell, she asked herself with a quick, frightened gasp, but that, +after all, it might be that she was learning to care? From Solomons’s +she bade the man drive to the shop in Cranbourne Street where she was +accustomed to purchase the materials she used in painting, and Fate, +which uses strange agents to work out its ends, so directed it that +the cabman stopped a few doors below this shop, and opposite one where +jewelry and other personal effects were bought and sold. At any other +time, or had she been in any other mood, what followed might not have +occurred, but Fate, in the person of the cabman, arranged it so that the +hour and the opportunity came together. + +There were some old mezzotints in the window of the loan shop, a string +of coins and medals, a row of new French posters; and far down to the +front a tray filled with gold and silver cigarette-cases and watches and +rings. It occurred to Helen, who was still bent on making restitution +for her neglect, that a cigarette-case would be more appropriate for a +man than flowers, and more lasting. And she scanned the contents of +the window with the eye of one who now saw in everything only something +which might give Philip pleasure. The two objects of value in the tray +upon which her eyes first fell were the gold seal-ring with which Philip +had sealed his letters to her, and, lying next to it, his gold watch! +There was something almost human in the way the ring and watch spoke to +her from the past--in the way they appealed to her to rescue them from +the surroundings to which they had been abandoned. She did not know what +she meant to do with them nor how she could return them to Philip; but +there was no question of doubt in her manner as she swept with a rush +into the shop. There was no attempt, either, at bargaining in the way +in which she pointed out to the young woman behind the counter the +particular ring and watch she wanted. They had not been left as +collateral, the young woman said; they had been sold outright. + +“Then any one can buy them?” Helen asked eagerly. “They are for sale to +the public--to any one?” + + +The young woman made note of the customer’s eagerness, but with an +unmoved countenance. + +“Yes, miss, they are for sale. The ring is four pounds and the watch +twenty-five.” + +“Twenty-nine pounds!” Helen gasped. + +That was more money than she had in the world, but the fact did not +distress her, for she had a true artistic disregard for ready money, and +the absence of it had never disturbed her. But now it assumed a sudden +and alarming value. She had ten pounds in her purse and ten pounds at +her studio--these were just enough to pay for a quarter’s rent and the +rates, and there was a hat and cloak in Bond Street which she certainly +must have. Her only assets consisted of the possibility that some one +might soon order a miniature, and to her mind that was sufficient. Some +one always had ordered a miniature, and there was no reasonable doubt +but that some one would do it again. For a moment she questioned if it +would not be sufficient if she bought the ring and allowed the watch +to remain. But she recognized that the ring meant more to her than the +watch, while the latter, as an old heirloom which had been passed down +to him from a great-grandfather, meant more to Philip. It was for +Philip she was doing this, she reminded herself. She stood holding his +possessions, one in each hand, and looking at the young woman blankly. +She had no doubt in her mind that at least part of the money he had +received for them had paid for the flowers he had sent to her in +Scotland. The certainty of this left her no choice. She laid the ring +and watch down and pulled the only ring she possessed from her own +finger. It was a gift from Lady Gower. She had no doubt that it was of +great value. + +“Can you lend me some money on that?” she asked. It was the first time +she had conducted a business transaction of this nature, and she felt as +though she were engaging in a burglary. + +“We don’t lend money, miss,” the girl said, “we buy outright. I can give +you twenty-eight shillings for this,” she added. + +“Twenty-eight shillings,” Helen gasped; “why, it is worth--oh, ever so +much more than that!” + +“That is all it is worth to us,” the girl answered. She regarded the +ring indifferently and laid it away from her on the counter. The action +was final. + +Helen’s hands rose slowly to her breast, where a pretty watch dangled +from a bowknot of crushed diamonds. It was her only possession, and she +was very fond of it. It also was the gift of one of the several great +ladies who had adopted her since her residence in London. Helen had +painted a miniature of this particular great lady which had looked so +beautiful that the pleasure which the original of the portrait derived +from the thought that she still really looked as she did in the +miniature was worth more to her than many diamonds. + +But it was different with Helen, and no one could count what it cost her +to tear away her one proud possession. + +“What will you give me for this?” she asked defiantly. + +The girl’s eyes showed greater interest. “I can give you twenty pounds +for that,” she said. + +“Take it, please,” Helen begged, as though she feared if she kept it a +moment longer she might not be able to make the sacrifice. + +“That will be enough now,” she went on, taking out her ten-pound note. +She put Lady Gower’s ring back upon her finger and picked up Philip’s +ring and watch with the pleasure of one who has come into a great +fortune. She turned back at the door. + +“Oh,” she stammered, “in case any one should inquire, you are not to say +who bought these.” + +“No, miss, certainly not,” said the woman. Helen gave the direction to +the cabman and, closing the doors of the hansom, sat looking down at the +watch and the ring, as they lay in her lap. The thought that they had +been his most valued possessions, which he had abandoned forever, and +that they were now entirely hers, to do with as she liked, filled her +with most intense delight and pleasure. She took up the heavy gold ring +and placed it on the little finger of her left hand; it was much too +large, and she removed it and balanced it for a moment doubtfully in the +palm of her right hand. She was smiling, and her face was lit with shy +and tender thoughts. She cast a quick glance to the left and right as +though fearful that people passing in the street would observe her, and +then slipped the ring over the fourth finger of her left hand. She gazed +at it with a guilty smile and then, covering it hastily with her other +hand, leaned back, clasping it closely, and sat frowning far out before +her with puzzled eyes. + +To Carroll all roads led past Helen’s studio, and during the summer, +while she had been absent in Scotland it was one of his sad pleasures to +make a pilgrimage to her street and to pause opposite the house and look +up at the empty windows of her rooms. + +It was during this daily exercise that he learned, through the arrival +of her luggage, of her return to London, and when day followed day +without her having shown any desire to see him or to tell him of her +return he denounced himself most bitterly as a fatuous fool. + +At the end of the week he sat down and considered his case quite calmly. +For three years he had loved this girl, deeply and tenderly. He had been +lover, brother, friend, and guardian. During that time, even though she +had accepted him in every capacity except as that of the prospective +husband, she had never given him any real affection, nor sympathy, nor +help; all she had done for him had been done without her knowledge or +intent. To know her, to love her, and to scheme to give her pleasure had +been its own reward, and the only one. For the last few months he had +been living like a crossing-sweeper in order to be able to stay in +London until she came back to it, and that he might still send her the +gifts he had always laid on her altar. He had not seen her in three +months. Three months that had been to him a blank, except for his +work--which like all else that he did, was inspired and carried on for +her. Now at last she had returned and had shown that, even as a friend, +he was of so little account in her thoughts, of so little consequence in +her life, that after this long absence she had no desire to learn of his +welfare or to see him--she did not even give him the chance to see her. +And so, placing these facts before him for the first time since he had +loved her, he considered what was due to himself. “Was it good enough?” + he asked. “Was it just that he should continue to wear out his soul and +body for this girl who did not want what he had to give, who treated him +less considerately than a man whom she met for the first time at dinner?” + He felt he had reached the breaking-point; that the time had come when +he must consider what he owed to himself. There could never be any other +woman save Helen, but as it was not to be Helen, he could no longer, +with self-respect, continue to proffer his love only to see it slighted +and neglected. He was humble enough concerning himself, but of his love +he was very proud. Other men could give her more in wealth or position, +but no one could ever love her as he did. “He that hath more let +him give,” he had often quoted to her defiantly, as though he were +challenging the world, and now he felt he must evolve a make-shift world +of his own--a world in which she was not his only spring of acts; he +must begin all over again and keep his love secret and sacred until she +understood it and wanted it. And if she should never want it he would at +least have saved it from many rebuffs and insults. + +With this determination strong in him, the note Helen had left for him +after her talk with Marion, and the flowers, and the note with them, +saying she was coming to take tea on the morrow, failed to move him +except to make him more bitter. He saw in them only a tardy recognition +of her neglect--an effort to make up to him for thoughtlessness which, +from her, hurt him worse than studied slight. + +A new regime had begun, and he was determined to establish it firmly and +to make it impossible for himself to retreat from it; and in the note +in which he thanked Helen for the flowers and welcomed her to tea, he +declared his ultimatum. + +“You know how terribly I feel,” he wrote; “I don’t have to tell you +that, but I cannot always go on dragging out my love and holding it up +to excite your pity as beggars show their sores. I cannot always go on +praying before your altar, cutting myself with knives and calling upon +you to listen to me. You know that there is no one else but you, and +that there never can be any one but you, and that nothing is changed +except that after this I am not going to urge and torment you. I shall +wait as I have always waited--only now I shall wait in silence. You know +just how little, in one way, I have to offer you, and you know just how +much I have in love to offer you. It is now for you to speak--some day, +or never. But you will have to speak first. You will never hear a word +of love from me again. Why should you? You know it is always waiting for +you. But if you should ever want it, you must come to me, and take off +your hat and put it on my table and say, ‘Philip, I have come to stay.’ +Whether you can ever do that or not can make no difference in my love +for you. I shall love you always, as no man has ever loved a woman in +this world, but it is you who must speak first; for me, the rest is +silence.” + +The following morning as Helen was leaving the house she found this +letter lying on the hall-table, and ran back with it to her rooms. A +week before she would have let it lie on the table and read it on her +return. She was conscious that this was what she would have done, and it +pleased her to find that what concerned Philip was now to her the thing +of greatest interest. She was pleased with her own eagerness--her own +happiness was a welcome sign, and she was proud and glad that she was +learning to care. + +She read the letter with an anxious pride and pleasure in each word that +was entirely new. Philip’s recriminations did not hurt her, they were +the sign that he cared; nor did his determination not to speak of his +love to her hurt her, for she believed him when he said that he would +always care. She read the letter twice, and then sat for some time +considering the kind of letter Philip would have written had he known +her secret--had he known that the ring he had abandoned was now upon her +finger. + +She rose and, crossing to a desk, placed the letter in a drawer, and +then took it out again and re-read the last page. When she had finished +it she was smiling. For a moment she stood irresolute, and then, moving +slowly toward the centre-table, cast a guilty look about her and, +raising her hands, lifted her veil and half withdrew the pins that +fastened her hat. + +“Philip,” she began in a frightened whisper, “I have--I have come to--” + +The sentence ended in a cry of protest, and she rushed across the room +as though she were running from herself. She was blushing violently. + +“Never!” she cried, as she pulled open the door; “I could never do +it--never!” + +The following afternoon, when Helen was to come to tea, Carroll decided +that he would receive her with all the old friendliness, but that he +must be careful to subdue all emotion. + +He was really deeply hurt at her treatment, and had it not been that she +came on her own invitation he would not of his own accord have sought to +see her. In consequence, he rather welcomed than otherwise the arrival +of Marion Cavendish, who came a half-hour before Helen was expected, and +who followed a hasty knock with a precipitate entrance. + +“Sit down,” she commanded breathlessly; “and listen. I’ve been at +rehearsal all day, or I’d have been here before you were awake.” She +seated herself nervously and nodded her head at Carroll in an excited +and mysterious manner. + +“What is it?” he asked. “Have you and Reggie--” + +“Listen,” Marion repeated, “our fortunes are made; that is what’s the +matter--and I’ve made them. If you took half the interest in your work I +do, you’d have made yours long ago. Last night,” she began impressively, +“I went to a large supper at the Savoy, and I sat next to Charley +Wimpole. He came in late, after everybody had finished, and I attacked +him while he was eating his supper. He said he had been rehearsing +‘Caste’ after the performance; that they’ve put it on as a stop-gap on +account of the failure of the ‘Triflers,’ and that he knew revivals were +of no use; that he would give any sum for a good modern comedy. That +was my cue, and I told him I knew of a better comedy than any he had +produced at his theatre in five years, and that it was going begging. +He laughed, and asked where was he to find this wonderful comedy, and +I said, ‘It’s been in your safe for the last two months and you haven’t +read it.’ He said, ‘Indeed, how do you know that?’ and I said, ‘Because +if you’d read it, it wouldn’t be in your safe, but on your stage.’ So he +asked me what the play was about, and I told him the plot and what sort +of a part his was, and some of his scenes, and he began to take notice. +He forgot his supper, and very soon he grew so interested that he turned +his chair round and kept eying my supper-card to find out who I was, and +at last remembered seeing me in ‘The New Boy’--and a rotten part it was, +too--but he remembered it, and he told me to go on and tell him more +about your play. So I recited it, bit by bit, and he laughed in all the +right places and got very much excited, and said finally that he would +read it the first thing this morning.” Marion paused, breathlessly. “Oh, +yes, and he wrote your address on his cuff,” she added, with the air of +delivering a complete and convincing climax. + +Carroll stared at her and pulled excitedly on his pipe. + +“Oh, Marion!” he gasped, “suppose he should? He won’t though,” he added, +but eying her eagerly and inviting contradiction. + +“He will,” she answered, stoutly, “if he reads it.” + +“The other managers read it,” Carroll suggested, doubtfully. + +“Yes, but what do they know?” Marion returned, loftily. “He knows. +Charles Wimpole is the only intelligent actor-manager in London.” + +There was a sharp knock at the door, which Marion in her excitement had +left ajar, and Prentiss threw it wide open with an impressive sweep, as +though he were announcing royalty: “Mr. Charles Wimpole,” he said. + +The actor-manager stopped in the doorway bowing gracefully, his hat +held before him and his hand on his stick as though it were resting on a +foil. He had the face and carriage of a gallant of the days of Congreve, +and he wore his modern frock-coat with as much distinction as if it were +of silk and lace. He was evidently amused. “I couldn’t help overhearing +the last line,” he said, smiling. “It gives me a good entrance.” + +Marion gazed at him blankly: “Oh,” she gasped, “we--we--were just +talking about you.” + +“If you hadn’t mentioned my name,” the actor said, “I should never have +guessed it. And this is Mr. Carroll, I hope.” + +The great man was rather pleased with the situation. As he read it, it +struck him as possessing strong dramatic possibilities: Carroll was the +struggling author on the verge of starvation: Marion, his sweetheart, +flying to him gave him hope; and he was the good fairy arriving in the +nick of time to set everything right and to make the young people happy +and prosperous. He rather fancied himself in the part of the good fairy, +and as he seated himself he bowed to them both in a manner which was +charmingly inclusive and confidential. + +“Miss Cavendish, I imagine, has already warned you that you might expect +a visit from me,” he said tentatively. Carroll nodded. He was too much +concerned to interrupt. + +“Then I need only tell you,” Wimpole continued, “that I got up at an +absurd hour this morning to read your play; that I did read it; that I +like it immensely--and that if we can come to terms I shall produce it I +shall produce it at once, within a fortnight or three weeks.” + +Carroll was staring at him intently and continued doing so after Wimpole +had finished speaking. The actor felt he had somehow missed his point, +or that Carroll could not have understood him, and repeated, “I say I +shall put it in rehearsal at once.” + +Carroll rose abruptly, and pushed back his chair. “I should be very +glad,” he murmured, and strode over to the window, where he stood with +his back turned to his guests. Wimpole looked after him with a kindly +smile and nodded his head appreciatively. He had produced even a greater +effect than his lines seemed to warrant. When he spoke again, it was +quite simply, and sincerely, and though he spoke for Carroll’s benefit, +he addressed himself to Marion. + +“You were quite right last night,” he said, “it is a most charming piece +of work. I am really extremely grateful to you for bringing it to my +notice.” He rose, and going to Carroll, put his hand on his shoulder. +“My boy,” he said, “I congratulate you. I should like to be your age, +and to have written that play. Come to my theatre to-morrow and we will +talk terms. Talk it over first with your friends, so that I sha’n’t rob +you. Do you think you would prefer a lump sum now, and so be done with +it altogether, or trust that the royalties may--” + +“Royalties,” prompted Marion, in an eager aside. + +The men laughed. “Quite right,” Wimpole assented, good-humoredly; “it’s +a poor sportsman who doesn’t back his own horse. Well, then, until +to-morrow.” + +“But,” Carroll began, “one moment please. I haven’t thanked you.” + +“My dear boy,” cried Wimpole, waving him away with his stick, “it is I +who have to thank you.” + +“And--and there is a condition,” Carroll said, “which goes with the +play. It is that Miss Cavendish is to have the part of Nancy.” + +Wimpole looked serious and considered for a moment. + +“Nancy,” he said, “the girl who interferes--a very good part. I have +cast Miss Maddox for it in my mind, but, of course, if the author +insists--” + +Marion, with her elbows on the table, clasped her hands appealingly +before her. + +“Oh, Mr. Wimpole!” she cried, “you owe me that, at least.” + +Carroll leaned over and took both of Marion’s hands in one of his. + +“It’s all right,” he said; “the author insists.” + +Wimpole waved his stick again as though it were the magic wand of the +good fairy. + +“You shall have it,” he said. “I recall your performance in ‘The New +Boy’ with pleasure. I take the play, and Miss Cavendish shall be cast +for Nancy. We shall begin rehearsals at once. I hope you are a quick +study.” + +“I’m letter-perfect now{,}” laughed Marion. + +Wimpole turned at the door and nodded to them. They were both so young, +so eager, and so jubilant that he felt strangely old and out of it. +“Good-by, then,” he said. + +“Good-by, sir,” they both chorussed. And Marion cried after him, “And +thank you a thousand times.” + +He turned again and looked back at them, but in their rejoicing they had +already forgotten him. “Bless you, my children,” he said, smiling. As +he was about to close the door a young girl came down the passage toward +it, and as she was apparently going to Carroll’s rooms, the actor left +the door open behind him. + +Neither Marion nor Carroll had noticed his final exit. They were both +gazing at each other as though, could they find speech, they would ask +if it were true. + +“It’s come at last, Marion,” Philip said, with an uncertain voice. + +“I could weep,” cried Marion. “Philip,” she exclaimed, “I would rather +see that play succeed than any play ever written, and I would rather +play that part in it than--Oh, Philip,” she ended. “I’m so proud of +you!” and rising, she threw her arms about his neck and sobbed on his +shoulder. + +Carroll raised one of her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers +gently. “I owe it to you, Marion,” he said--“all to you.” + +This was the tableau that was presented through the open door to Miss +Helen Cabot, hurrying on her errand of restitution and good-will, and +with Philip’s ring and watch clasped in her hand. They had not heard +her, nor did they see her at the door, so she drew back quickly and ran +along the passage and down the stairs into the street. + +She did not need now to analyze her feelings. They were only too +evident. For she could translate what she had just seen as meaning only +one thing--that she had considered Philip’s love so lightly that she had +not felt it passing away from her until her neglect had killed it--until +it was too late. And now that it was too late she felt that without it +her life could not go on. She tried to assure herself that only the fact +that she had lost it made it seem invaluable, but this thought did not +comfort her--she was not deceived by it, she knew that at last she +cared for him deeply and entirely. In her distress she blamed herself +bitterly, but she also blamed Philip no less bitterly for having failed +to wait for her. “He might have known that I must love him in time,” she +repeated to herself again and again. She was so unhappy that her letter +congratulating Philip on his good fortune in having his comedy accepted +seemed to him cold and unfeeling, and as his success meant for him only +what it meant to her, he was hurt and grievously disappointed. + +He accordingly turned the more readily to Marion, whose interests +and enthusiasm at the rehearsals of the piece seemed in contrast most +friendly and unselfish. He could not help but compare the attitude of +the two girls at this time, when the failure or success of his best work +was still undecided. He felt that as Helen took so little interest +in his success he could not dare to trouble her with his anxieties +concerning it, and she attributed his silence to his preoccupation and +interest in Marion. So the two grew apart, each misunderstanding the +other and each troubled in spirit at the other’s indifference. + +The first night of the play justified all that Marion and Wimpole had +claimed for it, and was a great personal triumph for the new playwright. +The audience was the typical first-night audience of the class which +Charles Wimpole always commanded. It was brilliant, intelligent, and +smart, and it came prepared to be pleased. + +From one of the upper stage-boxes Helen and Lady Gower watched the +successful progress of the play with an anxiety almost as keen as that +of the author. To Helen it seemed as though the giving of these lines to +the public--these lines which he had so often read to her, and altered +to her liking--was a desecration. It seemed as though she were losing +him indeed--as though he now belonged to these strange people, all of +whom were laughing and applauding his words, from the German Princess +in the Royal box to the straight-backed Tommy in the pit. Instead of the +painted scene before her, she saw the birch-trees by the river at home, +where he had first read her the speech to which they were now listening +so intensely--the speech in which the hero tells the girl he loves her. +She remembered that at the time she had thought how wonderful it would +be if some day some one made such a speech to her--not Philip--but a man +she loved. And now? If Philip would only make that speech to her now! + +He came out at last, with Wimpole leading him, and bowed across a +glaring barrier of lights at a misty but vociferous audience that was +shouting the generous English bravo! and standing up to applaud. He +raised his eyes to the box where Helen sat, and saw her staring down +at the tumult, with her hands clasped under her chin. Her face was +colorless, but lit with the excitement of the moment; and he saw that +she was crying. + +Lady Gower, from behind her, was clapping her hands delightedly. + +“But, my dear Helen,” she remonstrated breathlessly, “you never told me +he was so good-looking.” + +“Yes,” said Helen, rising abruptly, “he is--very good-looking.” + +She crossed the box to where her cloak was hanging, but instead of +taking it down buried her face in its folds. + +“My dear child!” cried Lady Gower, in dismay. “What is it? The +excitement has been too much for you.” + +“No, I am just happy,” sobbed Helen. “I am just happy for him.” + +“We will go and tell him so then,” said Lady Gower. “I am sure he would +like to hear it from you to-night.” + +Philip was standing in the centre of the stage, surrounded by many +pretty ladies and elderly men. Wimpole was hovering over him as though +he had claims upon him by the right of discovery. + +But when Philip saw Helen, he pushed his way toward her eagerly and took +her hand in both of his. + +“I am so glad, Phil,” she said. She felt it all so deeply that she was +afraid to say more, but that meant so much to her that she was sure he +would understand. + +He had planned it very differently. For a year he had dreamed that, on +the first night of his play, there would be a supper, and that he would +rise and drink her health, and tell his friends and the world that she +was the woman he loved, and that she had agreed to marry him, and that +at last he was able, through the success of his play, to make her his +wife. + +And now they met in a crowd to shake hands, and she went her way with +one of her grand ladies, and he was left among a group of chattering +strangers. The great English playwright took him by the hand and in the +hearing of all, praised him gracefully and kindly. It did not matter +to Philip whether the older playwright believed what he said or not; he +knew it was generously meant. + +“I envy you this,” the great man was saying. “Don’t lose any of it, +stay and listen to all they have to say. You will never live through the +first night of your first play but once.” + +“Yes, I hear them,” said Philip, nervously; “they are all too kind. +But I don’t hear the voice I have been listening for,” he added in a +whisper. The older man pressed his hand again quickly. “My dear boy,” he +said, “I am sorry.” + +“Thank you,” Philip answered. + +Within a week he had forgotten the great man’s fine words of praise, but +the clasp of his hand he cherished always. + +Helen met Marion as she was leaving the stage door and stopped to +congratulate her on her success in the new part. Marion was radiant. To +Helen she seemed obstreperously happy and jubilant. + +“And, Marion,” Helen began bravely, “I also want to congratulate you +on something else. You--you--neither of you have told me yet,” she +stammered, “but I am such an old friend of both that I will not be kept +out of the secret.” At these words Marion’s air of triumphant gayety +vanished; she regarded Helen’s troubled eyes closely and kindly. + +“What secret, Helen?” she asked. + +“I came to the door of Philip’s room the other day when you did not know +I was there,” Helen answered; “and I could not help seeing how matters +were. And I do congratulate you both--and wish you--oh, such happiness!” + Without a word Marion dragged her back down the passage to her +dressing-room, and closed the door. + +“Now tell me what you mean,” she said. + +“I am sorry if I discovered anything you didn’t want known yet,” said +Helen, “but the door was open. Mr. Wimpole had just left you and had not +shut it, and I could not help seeing.” + +Marion interrupted her with an eager exclamation of enlightenment. + +“Oh, you were there, then,” she cried. “And you?” she asked +eagerly--“you thought Phil cared for me--that we are engaged, and it +hurt you; you are sorry? Tell me,” she demanded, “are you sorry?” + +Helen drew back and stretched out her hand toward the door. + +“How can you!” she exclaimed, indignantly. “You have no right.” + +Marion stood between her and the door. + +“I have every right,” she said, “to help my friends, and I want to +help you and Philip. And indeed I do hope you ARE sorry. I hope you are +miserable. And I’m glad you saw me kiss him. That was the first and +the last time, and I did it because I was happy and glad for him; and +because I love him too, but not in the least in the way he loves you. No +one ever loved any one as he loves you. And it’s time you found it out. +And if I have helped to make you find it out I’m glad, and I don’t care +how much I hurt you.” + +“Marion!” exclaimed Helen, “what does it mean? Do you mean that you are +not engaged; that--” + +“Certainly not,” Marion answered. “I am going to marry Reggie. It is you +that Philip loves, and I am very sorry for you that you don’t love him.” + +Helen clasped Marion’s hands in both of hers. + +“But, Marion!” she cried, “I do, oh, I do!” + + +There was a thick yellow fog the next morning, and with it rain and a +sticky, depressing dampness which crept through the window-panes, and +which neither a fire nor blazing gas-jets could overcome. + +Philip stood in front of the fireplace with the morning papers piled +high on the centre-table and scattered over the room about him. + +He had read them all, and he knew now what it was to wake up famous, but +he could not taste it. Now that it had come it meant nothing, and +that it was so complete a triumph only made it the harder. In his most +optimistic dreams he had never imagined success so satisfying as the +reality had proved to be; but in his dreams Helen had always held the +chief part, and without her, success seemed only to mock him. + +He wanted to lay it all before her, to say, “If you are pleased, I am +happy. If you are satisfied, then I am content. It was done for you, and +I am wholly yours, and all that I do is yours.” + +And, as though in answer to his thoughts, there was an instant knock at +the door, and Helen entered the room and stood smiling at him across the +table. + +Her eyes were lit with excitement, and spoke with many emotions, and +her cheeks were brilliant with color. He had never seen her look more +beautiful. + +“Why, Helen!” he exclaimed, “how good of you to come. Is there anything +wrong? Is anything the matter?” + +She tried to speak, but faltered, and smiled at him appealingly. + +“What is it?” he asked in great concern. + +Helen drew in her breath quickly, and at the same moment motioned him +away--and he stepped back and stood watching her in much perplexity. + +With her eyes fixed on his she raised her hands to her head, and her +fingers fumbled with the knot of her veil. She pulled it loose, and +then, with a sudden courage, lifted her hat proudly, as though it were a +coronet, and placed it between them on his table. + +“Philip,” she stammered, with the tears in her voice and eyes, “if you +will let me--I have come to stay.” + +The table was no longer between them. He caught her in his arms and +kissed her face and her uncovered head again and again. From outside +the rain beat drearily and the fog rolled through the street, but inside +before the fire the two young people sat close together, asking eager +questions or sitting in silence, staring at the flames with wondering, +happy eyes. + + +The Lion and the Unicorn saw them only once again. It was a month later +when they stopped in front of the shop in a four-wheeler, with their +baggage mixed on top of it, and steamer-labels pasted over every trunk. + +“And, oh, Prentiss!” Carroll called from the cab-window. “I came near +forgetting. I promised to gild the Lion and the Unicorn if I won out in +London. So have it done, please, and send the bill to me. For I’ve won +out all right.” And then he shut the door of the cab, and they drove +away forever. + +“Nice gal, that,” growled the Lion. “I always liked her. I am glad +they’ve settled it at last.” + +The Unicorn sighed, sentimentally. “The other one’s worth two of her,” + he said. + + + + +ON THE FEVER SHIP + +There were four rails around the ship’s sides, the three lower ones of +iron and the one on top of wood, and as he looked between them from +the canvas cot he recognized them as the prison-bars which held him in. +Outside his prison lay a stretch of blinding blue water which ended in a +line of breakers and a yellow coast with ragged palms. Beyond that again +rose a range of mountain-peaks, and, stuck upon the loftiest peak of +all, a tiny block-house. It rested on the brow of the mountain against +the naked sky as impudently as a cracker-box set upon the dome of a +great cathedral. + +As the transport rode on her anchor-chains, the iron bars around her +sides rose and sank and divided the landscape with parallel lines. From +his cot the officer followed this phenomenon with severe, painstaking +interest. Sometimes the wooden rail swept up to the very block-house +itself, and for a second of time blotted it from sight. And again it +sank to the level of the line of breakers, and wiped them out of the +picture as though they were a line of chalk. + +The soldier on the cot promised himself that the next swell of the sea +would send the lowest rail climbing to the very top of the palm-trees +or, even higher, to the base of the mountains; and when it failed to +reach even the palm-trees he felt a distinct sense of ill use, of having +been wronged by some one. There was no other reason for submitting to +this existence, save these tricks upon the wearisome, glaring landscape; +and, now, whoever it was who was working them did not seem to be making +this effort to entertain him with any heartiness. + +It was most cruel. Indeed, he decided hotly, it was not to be endured; +he would bear it no longer, he would make his escape. But he knew that +this move, which could be conceived in a moment’s desperation, could +only be carried to success with great strategy, secrecy, and careful +cunning. So he fell back upon his pillow and closed his eyes, as though +he were asleep, and then opening them again, turned cautiously, and +spied upon his keeper. As usual, his keeper sat at the foot of the +cot turning the pages of a huge paper filled with pictures of the war +printed in daubs of tawdry colors. His keeper was a hard-faced boy +without human pity or consideration, a very devil of obstinacy and +fiendish cruelty. To make it worse, the fiend was a person without a +collar, in a suit of soiled khaki, with a curious red cross bound by a +safety-pin to his left arm. He was intent upon the paper in his hands; +he was holding it between his eyes and his prisoner. His vigilance had +relaxed, and the moment seemed propitious. With a sudden plunge of arms +and legs, the prisoner swept the bed sheet from him, and sprang at the +wooden rail and grasped the iron stanchion beside it. He had his knee +pressed against the top bar and his bare toes on the iron rail beneath +it. Below him the blue water waited for him. It was cool and dark and +gentle and deep. It would certainly put out the fire in his bones, he +thought; it might even shut out the glare of the sun which scorched his +eyeballs. + +But as he balanced for the leap, a swift weakness and nausea swept over +him, a weight seized upon his body and limbs. He could not lift the +lower foot from the iron rail, and he swayed dizzily and trembled. He +trembled. He who had raced his men and beaten them up the hot hill to +the trenches of San Juan. But now he was a baby in the hands of a giant, +who caught him by the wrist and with an iron arm clasped him around his +waist and pulled him down, and shouted, brutally, “Help, some of you’se, +quick; he’s at it again. I can’t hold him.” + +More giants grasped him by the arms and by the legs. One of them took +the hand that clung to the stanchion in both of his, and pulled back the +fingers one by one, saying, “Easy now, Lieutenant--easy.” + +The ragged palms and the sea and block-house were swallowed up in a +black fog, and his body touched the canvas cot again with a sense of +home-coming and relief and rest. He wondered how he could have cared +to escape from it. He found it so good to be back again that for a long +time he wept quite happily, until the fiery pillow was moist and cool. + +The world outside of the iron bars was like a scene in a theatre set +for some great event, but the actors were never ready. He remembered +confusedly a play he had once witnessed before that same scene. Indeed, +he believed he had played some small part in it; but he remembered it +dimly, and all trace of the men who had appeared with him in it was +gone. He had reasoned it out that they were up there behind the range +of mountains, because great heavy wagons and ambulances and cannon were +emptied from the ships at the wharf above and were drawn away in long +lines behind the ragged palms, moving always toward the passes between +the peaks. At times he was disturbed by the thought that he should be up +and after them, that some tradition of duty made his presence with them +imperative. There was much to be done back of the mountains. Some event +of momentous import was being carried forward there, in which he held a +part; but the doubt soon passed from him, and he was content to lie and +watch the iron bars rising and falling between the block-house and the +white surf. + +If they had been only humanely kind, his lot would have been bearable, +but they starved him and held him down when he wished to rise; and they +would not put out the fire in the pillow, which they might easily have +done by the simple expedient of throwing it over the ship’s side into +the sea. He himself had done this twice, but the keeper had immediately +brought a fresh pillow already heated for the torture and forced it +under his head. + +His pleasures were very simple, and so few that he could not understand +why they robbed him of them so jealously. One was to watch a green +cluster of bananas that hung above him from the awning twirling on a +string. He could count as many of them as five before the bunch turned +and swung lazily back again, when he could count as high as twelve; +sometimes when the ship rolled heavily he could count to twenty. It was +a most fascinating game, and contented him for many hours. But when they +found this out they sent for the cook to come and cut them down, and the +cook carried them away to his galley. + +Then, one day, a man came out from the shore, swimming through the blue +water with great splashes. He was a most charming man, who spluttered +and dove and twisted and lay on his back and kicked his legs in an +excess of content and delight. It was a real pleasure to watch him; +not for days had anything so amusing appeared on the other side of the +prison-bars. But as soon as the keeper saw that the man in the water +was amusing his prisoner, he leaned over the ship’s side and shouted, +“Sa-ay, you, don’t you know there’s sharks in there?” + +And the swimming man said, “The h--ll there is!” and raced back to the +shore like a porpoise with great lashing of the water, and ran up the +beach half-way to the palms before he was satisfied to stop. Then +the prisoner wept again. It was so disappointing. Life was robbed of +everything now. He remembered that in a previous existence soldiers who +cried were laughed at and mocked. + +But that was so far away and it was such an absurd superstition that he +had no patience with it. For what could be more comforting to a man when +he is treated cruelly than to cry. It was so obvious an exercise, and +when one is so feeble that one cannot vault a four-railed barrier it is +something to feel that at least one is strong enough to cry. + +He escaped occasionally, traversing space with marvellous rapidity and +to great distances, but never to any successful purpose; and his flight +inevitably ended in ignominious recapture and a sudden awakening in +bed. At these moments the familiar and hated palms, the peaks and the +block-house were more hideous in their reality than the most terrifying +of his nightmares. + +These excursions afield were always predatory; he went forth always to +seek food. With all the beautiful world from which to elect and choose, +he sought out only those places where eating was studied and elevated +to an art. These visits were much more vivid in their detail than any he +had ever before made to these same resorts. They invariably began in +a carriage, which carried him swiftly over smooth asphalt. One route +brought him across a great and beautiful square, radiating with rows and +rows of flickering lights; two fountains splashed in the centre of the +square, and six women of stone guarded its approaches. One of the +women was hung with wreaths of mourning. Ahead of him the late twilight +darkened behind a great arch, which seemed to rise on the horizon of the +world, a great window into the heavens beyond. At either side strings +of white and colored globes hung among the trees, and the sound of music +came joyfully from theatres in the open air. He knew the restaurant +under the trees to which he was now hastening, and the fountain beside +it, and the very sparrows balancing on the fountain’s edge; he knew +every waiter at each of the tables, he felt again the gravel crunching +under his feet, he saw the maitre d’hotel coming forward smiling to +receive his command, and the waiter in the green apron bowing at his +elbow, deferential and important, presenting the list of wines. But his +adventure never passed that point, for he was captured again and once +more bound to his cot with a close burning sheet. + +Or else, he drove more sedately through the London streets in the late +evening twilight, leaning expectantly across the doors of the hansom and +pulling carefully at his white gloves. Other hansoms flashed past him, +the occupant of each with his mind fixed on one idea--dinner. He was one +of a million of people who were about to dine, or who had dined, or who +were deep in dining. + +He was so famished, so weak for food of any quality, that the galloping +horse in the hansom seemed to crawl. The lights of the Embankment passed +like the lamps of a railroad station as seen from the window of an +express; and while his mind was still torn between the choice of a thin +or thick soup or an immediate attack upon cold beef, he was at the door, +and the chasseur touched his cap, and the little chasseur put the wicker +guard over the hansom’s wheel. As he jumped out he said, “Give him +half-a-crown,” and the driver called after him, “Thank you, sir.” + +It was a beautiful world, this world outside of the iron bars. Every one +in it contributed to his pleasure and to his comfort. In this world he +was not starved nor manhandled. He thought of this joyfully as he leaped +up the stairs, where young men with grave faces and with their hands +held negligently behind their backs bowed to him in polite surprise at +his speed. But they had not been starved on condensed milk. He threw his +coat and hat at one of them, and came down the hall fearfully and quite +weak with dread lest it should not be real. His voice was shaking when +he asked Ellis if he had reserved a table. The place was all so real, it +must be true this time. The way Ellis turned and ran his finger down +the list showed it was real, because Ellis always did that, even when he +knew there would not be an empty table for an hour. The room was crowded +with beautiful women; under the light of the red shades they looked kind +and approachable, and there was food on every table, and iced drinks in +silver buckets. + +It was with the joy of great relief that he heard Ellis say to his +underling, “Numero cinq, sur la terrace, un couvert.” It was real at +last. Outside, the Thames lay a great gray shadow. The lights of the +Embankment flashed and twinkled across it, the tower of the House of +Commons rose against the sky, and here, inside, the waiter was hurrying +toward him carrying a smoking plate of rich soup with a pungent +intoxicating odor. + +And then the ragged palms, the glaring sun, the immovable peaks, and +the white surf stood again before him. The iron rails swept up and sank +again, the fever sucked at his bones, and the pillow scorched his cheek. + +One morning for a brief moment he came back to real life again and lay +quite still, seeing everything about him with clear eyes and for the +first time, as though he had but just that instant been lifted over +the ship’s side. His keeper, glancing up, found the prisoner’s eyes +considering him curiously, and recognized the change. The instinct of +discipline brought him to his feet with his fingers at his sides. + +“Is the Lieutenant feeling better?” + +The Lieutenant surveyed him gravely. + +“You are one of our hospital stewards.” + +“Yes, Lieutenant.” + +“Why ar’n’t you with the regiment?” + +“I was wounded, too, sir. I got it same time you did, Lieutenant.” + +“Am I wounded? Of course, I remember. Is this a hospital ship?” + +The steward shrugged his shoulders. “She’s one of the transports. They +have turned her over to the fever cases.” + +The Lieutenant opened his lips to ask another question; but his own body +answered that one, and for a moment he lay silent. + +“Do they know up North that I--that I’m all right?” + +“Oh, yes, the papers had it in--there was pictures of the Lieutenant in +some of them.” + +“Then I’ve been ill some time?” + +“Oh, about eight days.” + +The soldier moved uneasily, and the nurse in him became uppermost. + +“I guess the Lieutenant hadn’t better talk any more,” he said. It was +his voice now which held authority. + +The Lieutenant looked out at the palms and the silent gloomy mountains +and the empty coast-line, where the same wave was rising and falling +with weary persistence. + +“Eight days,” he said. His eyes shut quickly, as though with a sudden +touch of pain. He turned his head and sought for the figure at the foot +of the cot. Already the figure had grown faint and was receding and +swaying. + +“Has any one written or cabled?” the Lieutenant spoke, hurriedly. + +He was fearful lest the figure should disappear altogether before he +could obtain his answer. “Has any one come?” + +“Why, they couldn’t get here, Lieutenant, not yet.” + +The voice came very faintly. “You go to sleep now, and I’ll run and +fetch some letters and telegrams. When you wake up, may be I’ll have a +lot for you.” + +But the Lieutenant caught the nurse by the wrist, and crushed his hand +in his own thin fingers. They were hot, and left the steward’s skin wet +with perspiration. The Lieutenant laughed gayly. + +“You see, Doctor,” he said, briskly, “that you can’t kill me. I can’t +die. I’ve got to live, you understand. Because, sir, she said she would +come. She said if I was wounded, or if I was ill, she would come to me. +She didn’t care what people thought. She would come any way and nurse +me--well, she will come. + +“So, Doctor--old man--” He plucked at the steward’s sleeve, and stroked +his hand eagerly, “old man--” he began again, beseechingly, “you’ll +not let me die until she comes, will you? What? No, I know I won’t die. +Nothing made by man can kill me. No, not until she comes. Then, after +that--eight days, she’ll be here soon, any moment? What? You think so, +too? Don’t you? Surely, yes, any moment. Yes, I’ll go to sleep now, and +when you see her rowing out from shore you wake me. You’ll know her; you +can’t make a mistake. She is like--no, there is no one like her--but you +can’t make a mistake.” + +That day strange figures began to mount the sides of the ship, and to +occupy its every turn and angle of space. Some of them fell on their +knees and slapped the bare deck with their hands, and laughed and +cried out, “Thank God, I’ll see God’s country again!” Some of them +were regulars, bound in bandages; some were volunteers, dirty and +hollow-eyed, with long beards on boys’ faces. Some came on crutches; +others with their arms around the shoulders of their comrades, staring +ahead of them with a fixed smile, their lips drawn back and their teeth +protruding. At every second step they stumbled, and the face of each was +swept by swift ripples of pain. + +They lay on cots so close together that the nurses could not walk +between them. They lay on the wet decks, in the scuppers, and along the +transoms and hatches. They were like shipwrecked mariners clinging to +a raft, and they asked nothing more than that the ship’s bow be turned +toward home. Once satisfied as to that, they relaxed into a state of +self-pity and miserable oblivion to their environment, from which hunger +nor nausea nor aching bones could shake them. + +The hospital steward touched the Lieutenant lightly on the shoulder. + +“We are going North, sir,” he said. “The transport’s ordered North to +New York, with these volunteers and the sick and wounded. Do you hear +me, sir?” + +The Lieutenant opened his eyes. “Has she come?” he asked. + +“Gee!” exclaimed the hospital steward. He glanced impatiently at the +blue mountains and the yellow coast, from which the transport was +drawing rapidly away. + +“Well, I can’t see her coming just now,” he said. “But she will,” he +added. + +“You let me know at once when she comes.” + +“Why, cert’nly, of course,” said the steward. + +Three trained nurses came over the side just before the transport +started North. One was a large, motherly-looking woman, with a German +accent. She had been a trained nurse, first in Berlin, and later in the +London Hospital in Whitechapel, and at Bellevue. + +The nurse was dressed in white, and wore a little silver medal at her +throat; and she was strong enough to lift a volunteer out of his cot and +hold him easily in her arms, while one of the convalescents pulled his +cot out of the rain. Some of the men called her “nurse;” others, who +wore scapulars around their necks, called her “Sister;” and the officers +of the medical staff addressed her as Miss Bergen. + +Miss Bergen halted beside the cot of the Lieutenant and asked, “Is this +the fever case you spoke about, Doctor--the one you want moved to the +officers’ ward?” She slipped her hand up under his sleeve and felt his +wrist. + +“His pulse is very high,” she said to the steward. “When did you take +his temperature?” She drew a little morocco case from her pocket and +from that took a clinical thermometer, which she shook up and down, +eying the patient meanwhile with a calm, impersonal scrutiny. The +Lieutenant raised his head and stared up at the white figure beside his +cot. His eyes opened and then shut quickly, with a startled look, in +which doubt struggled with wonderful happiness. His hand stole out +fearfully and warily until it touched her apron, and then, finding it +was real, he clutched it desperately, and twisting his face and body +toward her, pulled her down, clasping her hands in both of his, and +pressing them close to his face and eyes and lips. He put them from him +for an instant, and looked at her through his tears. + +“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “sweetheart, I knew you’d come.” + +As the nurse knelt on the deck beside him, her thermometer slipped from +her fingers and broke, and she gave an exclamation of annoyance. The +young Doctor picked up the pieces and tossed them overboard. Neither of +them spoke, but they smiled appreciatively. The Lieutenant was looking +at the nurse with the wonder and hope and hunger of soul in his eyes +with which a dying man looks at the cross the priest holds up before +him. What he saw where the German nurse was kneeling was a tall, fair +girl with great bands and masses of hair, with a head rising like a lily +from a firm, white throat, set on broad shoulders above a straight back +and sloping breast--a tall, beautiful creature, half-girl, half-woman, +who looked back at him shyly, but steadily. + +“Listen,” he said. + +The voice of the sick man was so sure and so sane that the young Doctor +started, and moved nearer to the head of the cot. “Listen, dearest,” the +Lieutenant whispered. “I wanted to tell you before I came South. But I +did not dare; and then I was afraid something might happen to me, and I +could never tell you, and you would never know. So I wrote it to you in +the will I made at Baiquiri, the night before the landing. If you hadn’t +come now, you would have learned it in that way. You would have read +there that there never was any one but you; the rest were all dream +people, foolish, silly--mad. There is no one else in the world but you; +you have been the only thing in life that has counted. I thought I might +do something down here that would make you care. But I got shot going +up a hill, and after that I wasn’t able to do anything. It was very hot, +and the hills were on fire; and they took me prisoner, and kept me tied +down here, burning on these coals. I can’t live much longer, but now +that I have told you I can have peace. They tried to kill me before you +came; but they didn’t know I loved you, they didn’t know that men who +love you can’t die. They tried to starve my love for you, to burn it out +of me; they tried to reach it with their knives. But my love for you +is my soul, and they can’t kill a man’s soul. Dear heart, I have lived +because you lived. Now that you know--now that you understand--what does +it matter?” + +Miss Bergen shook her head with great vigor. “Nonsense,” she said, +cheerfully. “You are not going to die. As soon as we move you out of +this rain, and some food cook--” + +“Good God!” cried the young Doctor, savagely. “Do you want to kill him?” + +When she spoke the patient had thrown his arms heavily across his face, +and had fallen back, lying rigid on the pillow. + +The Doctor led the way across the prostrate bodies, apologizing as he +went. “I am sorry I spoke so quickly,” he said, “but he thought you were +real. I mean he thought you were some one he really knew--” + +“He was just delirious,” said the German nurse, calmly. + +The Doctor mixed himself a Scotch and soda and drank it with a single +gesture. + +“Ugh!” he said to the ward-room. “I feel as though I’d been opening +another man’s letters.” + + +The transport drove through the empty seas with heavy, clumsy +upheavals, rolling like a buoy. Having been originally intended for the +freight-carrying trade, she had no sympathy with hearts that beat for +a sight of their native land, or for lives that counted their remaining +minutes by the throbbing of her engines. Occasionally, without apparent +reason, she was thrown violently from her course: but it was invariably +the case that when her stern went to starboard, something splashed in +the water on her port side and drifted past her, until, when it had +cleared the blades of her propeller, a voice cried out, and she was +swung back on her home-bound track again. + +The Lieutenant missed the familiar palms and the tiny block-house; and +seeing nothing beyond the iron rails but great wastes of gray water, he +decided he was on board a prison-ship, or that he had been strapped to +a raft and cast adrift. People came for hours at a time and stood at the +foot of his cot, and talked with him and he to them--people he had loved +and people he had long forgotten, some of whom he had thought were dead. +One of them he could have sworn he had seen buried in a deep trench, and +covered with branches of palmetto. He had heard the bugler, with tears +choking him, sound “taps;” and with his own hand he had placed the dead +man’s campaign hat on the mound of fresh earth above the grave. Yet here +he was still alive, and he came with other men of his troop to speak to +him; but when he reached out to them they were gone--the real and the +unreal, the dead and the living--and even She disappeared whenever he +tried to take her hand, and sometimes the hospital steward drove her +away. + +“Did that young lady say when she was coming back again?” he asked the +steward. + +“The young lady! What young lady?” asked the steward, wearily. + +“The one who has been sitting there,” he answered. He pointed with his +gaunt hand at the man in the next cot. + +“Oh, that young lady. Yes, she’s coming back. She’s just gone below to +fetch you some hard-tack.” + +The young volunteer in the next cot whined grievously. + +“That crazy man gives me the creeps,” he groaned. “He’s always waking me +up, and looking at me as though he was going to eat me.” + +“Shut your head,” said the steward. “He’s a better man crazy than you’ll +ever be with the little sense you’ve got. And he has two Mauser holes +in him. Crazy, eh? It’s a damned good thing for you that there was about +four thousand of us regulars just as crazy as him, or you’d never seen +the top of the hill.” + +One morning there was a great commotion on deck, and all the +convalescents balanced themselves on the rail, shivering in their +pajamas, and pointed one way. The transport was moving swiftly and +smoothly through water as flat as a lake, and making a great noise with +her steam-whistle. The noise was echoed by many more steam-whistles; and +the ghosts of out-bound ships and tugs and excursion steamers ran past +her out of the mist and disappeared, saluting joyously. All of the +excursion steamers had a heavy list to the side nearest the transport, +and the ghosts on them crowded to that rail and waved handkerchiefs +and cheered. The fog lifted suddenly, and between the iron rails the +Lieutenant saw high green hills on either side of a great harbor. + +Houses and trees and thousands of masts swept past like a panorama; +and beyond was a mirage of three cities, with curling smoke-wreaths and +sky-reaching buildings, and a great swinging bridge, and a giant statue +of a woman waving a welcome home. + +The Lieutenant surveyed the spectacle with cynical disbelief. He was +far too wise and far too cunning to be bewitched by it. In his heart he +pitied the men about him, who laughed wildly, and shouted, and climbed +recklessly to the rails and ratlines. He had been deceived too often not +to know that it was not real. He knew from cruel experience that in +a few moments the tall buildings would crumble away, the thousands of +columns of white smoke that flashed like snow in the sun, the busy, +shrieking tug-boats, and the great statue would vanish into the sea, +leaving it gray and bare. He closed his eyes and shut the vision out. It +was so beautiful that it tempted him; but he would not be mocked, and he +buried his face in his hands. They were carrying the farce too far, he +thought. It was really too absurd; for now they were at a wharf which +was so real that, had he not known by previous suffering, he would have +been utterly deceived by it. And there were great crowds of smiling, +cheering people, and a waiting guard of honor in fresh uniforms, and +rows of police pushing the people this way and that; and these men about +him were taking it all quite seriously, and making ready to disembark, +carrying their blanket-rolls and rifles with them. + +A band was playing joyously, and the man in the next cot, who was being +lifted to a stretcher, said, “There’s the Governor and his staff; that’s +him in the high hat.” It was really very well done. The Custom-house +and the Elevated Railroad and Castle Garden were as like to life as a +photograph, and the crowd was as well handled as a mob in a play. His +heart ached for it so that he could not bear the pain, and he turned his +back on it. It was cruel to keep it up so long. His keeper lifted him +in his arms, and pulled him into a dirty uniform which had belonged, +apparently, to a much larger man--a man who had been killed probably, +for there were dark-brown marks of blood on the tunic and breeches. When +he tried to stand on his feet, Castle Garden and the Battery disappeared +in a black cloud of night, just as he knew they would; but when he +opened his eyes from the stretcher, they had returned again. It was a +most remarkably vivid vision. They kept it up so well. Now the young +Doctor and the hospital steward were pretending to carry him down a +gang-plank and into an open space; and he saw quite close to him a long +line of policemen, and behind them thousands of faces, some of them +women’s faces--women who pointed at him and then shook their heads and +cried, and pressed their hands to their cheeks, still looking at him. He +wondered why they cried. He did not know them, nor did they know him. No +one knew him; these people were only ghosts. + +There was a quick parting in the crowd. A man he had once known shoved +two of the policemen to one side, and he heard a girl’s voice speaking +his name, like a sob; and She came running out across the open space and +fell on her knees beside the stretcher, and bent down over him, and he +was clasped in two young, firm arms. + +“Of course it is not real, of course it is not She,” he assured himself. +“Because She would not do such a thing. Before all these people She +would not do it.” + +But he trembled and his heart throbbed so cruelly that he could not bear +the pain. + +She was pretending to cry. + +“They wired us you had started for Tampa on the hospital ship,” She was +saying, “and Aunt and I went all the way there before we heard you had +been sent North. We have been on the cars a week. That is why I missed +you. Do you understand? It was not my fault. I tried to come. Indeed, I +tried to come.” + +She turned her head and looked up fearfully at the young Doctor. + +“Tell me, why does he look at me like that?” she asked. “He doesn’t know +me. Is he very ill? Tell me the truth.” She drew in her breath quickly. +“Of course you will tell me the truth.” + +When she asked the question he felt her arms draw tight about his +shoulders. It was as though she was holding him to herself, and from +some one who had reached out for him. In his trouble he turned to his +old friend and keeper. His voice was hoarse and very low. + +“Is this the same young lady who was on the transport--the one you used +to drive away?” + +In his embarrassment, the hospital steward blushed under his tan, and +stammered. + +“Of course it’s the same young lady,” the Doctor answered briskly. “And +I won’t let them drive her away.” He turned to her, smiling gravely. “I +think his condition has ceased to be dangerous, madam,” he said. + +People who in a former existence had been his friends, and Her brother, +gathered about his stretcher and bore him through the crowd and lifted +him into a carriage filled with cushions, among which he sank lower +and lower. Then She sat beside him, and he heard Her brother say to the +coachman, “Home, and drive slowly and keep on the asphalt.” + +The carriage moved forward, and She put her arm about him and his head +fell on her shoulder, and neither of them spoke. The vision had lasted +so long now that he was torn with the joy that after all it might be +real. But he could not bear the awakening if it were not, so he raised +his head fearfully and looked up into the beautiful eyes above him. His +brows were knit, and he struggled with a great doubt and an awful joy. + +“Dearest,” he said, “is it real?” + +“Is it real?” she repeated. + +Even as a dream, it was so wonderfully beautiful that he was satisfied +if it could only continue so, if but for a little while. + +“Do you think,” he begged again, trembling, “that it is going to last +much longer?” + +She smiled, and, bending her head slowly, kissed him. + +“It is going to last--always,” she said. + + + + +THE MAN WITH ONE TALENT + +The mass-meeting in the Madison Square Garden which was to help set +Cuba free was finished, and the people were pushing their way out of +the overheated building into the snow and sleet of the streets. They +had been greatly stirred and the spell of the last speaker still hung so +heavily upon them that as they pressed down the long corridor they were +still speaking loudly in his praise. + +A young man moved eagerly amongst them, and pushed his way to wherever a +voice was raised above the rest. He strained forward, listening openly, +as though he tried to judge the effect of the meeting by the verdict of +those about him. + +But the words he overheard seemed to clash with what he wished them to +be, and the eager look on his face changed to one of doubt and of grave +disappointment. When he had reached the sidewalk he stopped and stood +looking back alternately into the lighted hall and at the hurrying +crowds which were dispersing rapidly. He made a movement as though he +would recall them, as though he felt they were still unconvinced, as +though there was much still left unsaid. + +A fat stranger halted at his elbow to light his cigar, and glancing up +nodded his head approvingly. + +“Fine speaker, Senator Stanton, ain’t he?” he said. + +The young man answered eagerly. “Yes,” he assented, “he is a great +orator, but how could he help but speak well with such a subject?” + +“Oh, you ought to have heard him last November at Tammany Hall,” the fat +stranger answered. “He wasn’t quite up to himself to-night. He wasn’t so +interested. Those Cubans are foreigners, you see, but you ought to +heard him last St. Patrick’s day on Home Rule for Ireland. Then he was +talking! That speech made him a United States senator, I guess. I don’t +just see how he expects to win out on this Cuba game. The Cubans haven’t +got no votes.” + +The young man opened his eyes in some bewilderment. + +“He speaks for the good of Cuba, for the sake of humanity,” he ventured. + +“What?” inquired the fat stranger. “Oh, yes, of course. Well, I must be +getting on. Good-night, sir.” + +The stranger moved on his way, but the young man still lingered +uncertainly in the snow-swept corridor shivering violently with the cold +and stamping his feet for greater comfort. His face was burned to a deep +red, which seemed to have come from some long exposure to a tropical +sun, but which held no sign of health. His cheeks were hollow and his +eyes were lighted with the fire of fever and from time to time he was +shaken by violent bursts of coughing which caused him to reach toward +one of the pillars for support. + +As the last of the lights went out in the Garden, the speaker of the +evening and three of his friends came laughing and talking down the long +corridor. Senator Stanton was a conspicuous figure at any time, and even +in those places where his portraits had not penetrated he was at once +recognized as a personage. Something in his erect carriage and an +unusual grace of movement, and the power and success in his face, made +men turn to look at him. He had been told that he resembled the +early portraits of Henry Clay, and he had never quite forgotten the +coincidence. + +The senator was wrapping the collar of his fur coat around his throat +and puffing contentedly at a fresh cigar, and as he passed, the night +watchman and the ushers bowed to the great man and stood looking after +him with the half-humorous, half-envious deference that the American +voter pays to the successful politician. At the sidewalk, the policemen +hurried to open the door of his carriage and in their eagerness made a +double line, through which he passed nodding to them gravely. The young +man who had stood so long in waiting pushed his way through the line to +his side. + +“Senator Stanton,” he began timidly, “might I speak to you a moment? My +name is Arkwright; I am just back from Cuba, and I want to thank you for +your speech. I am an American, and I thank God that I am since you are +too, sir. No one has said anything since the war began that compares +with what you said to-night. You put it nobly, and I know, for I’ve been +there for three years, only I can’t make other people understand it, and +I am thankful that some one can. You’ll forgive my stopping you, sir, +but I wanted to thank you. I feel it very much.” + +Senator Stanton’s friends had already seated themselves in his carriage +and were looking out of the door and smiling with mock patience. But the +senator made no move to follow them. Though they were his admirers they +were sometimes skeptical, and he was not sorry that they should hear +this uninvited tribute. So he made a pretence of buttoning his long coat +about him, and nodded encouragingly to Arkwright to continue. “I’m glad +you liked it, sir,” he said with the pleasant, gracious smile that +had won him a friend wherever it had won him a vote. “It is very +satisfactory to know from one who is well informed on the subject that +what I have said is correct. The situation there is truly terrible. You +have just returned, you say? Where were you--in Havana?” + +“No, in the other provinces, sir,” Arkwright answered. “I have been all +over the island, I am a civil engineer. The truth has not been half +told about Cuba, I assure you, sir. It is massacre there, not war. It is +partly so through ignorance, but nevertheless it is massacre. And what +makes it worse is, that it is the massacre of the innocents. That is +what I liked best of what you said in that great speech, the part about +the women and children.” + +He reached out his hands detainingly, and then drew back as though in +apology for having already kept the great man so long waiting in the +cold. “I wish I could tell you some of the terrible things I have seen,” + he began again, eagerly as Stanton made no movement to depart. “They are +much worse than those you instanced to-night, and you could make so much +better use of them than any one else. I have seen starving women nursing +dead babies, and sometimes starving babies sucking their dead mother’s +breasts; I have seen men cut down in the open roads and while digging +in the fields--and two hundred women imprisoned in one room without +food and eaten with small-pox, and huts burned while the people in them +slept--” + +The young man had been speaking impetuously, but he stopped as suddenly, +for the senator was not listening to him. He had lowered his eyes +and was looking with a glance of mingled fascination and disgust at +Arkwright’s hands. In his earnestness the young man had stretched them +out, and as they showed behind the line of his ragged sleeves the others +could see, even in the blurred light and falling snow, that the wrists +of each hand were gashed and cut in dark-brown lines like the skin of a +mulatto, and in places were a raw red, where the fresh skin had but just +closed over. The young man paused and stood shivering, still holding his +hands out rigidly before him. + +The senator raised his eyes slowly and drew away. + +“What is that?” he said in a low voice, pointing with a gloved finger at +the black lines on the wrists. + +A sergeant in the group of policemen who had closed around the speakers +answered him promptly from his profound fund of professional knowledge. + +“That’s handcuffs, senator,” he said importantly, and glanced at +Stanton as though to signify that at a word from him he would take this +suspicious character into custody. The young man pulled the frayed cuffs +of his shirt over his wrists and tucked his hands, which the cold had +frozen into an ashy blue, under his armpits to warm them. + +“No, they don’t use handcuffs in the field,” he said in the same low, +eager tone; “they use ropes and leather thongs; they fastened me behind +a horse and when he stumbled going down the trail it jerked me forward +and the cords would tighten and tear the flesh. But they have had a long +time to heal now. I have been eight months in prison.” + +The young men at the carriage window had ceased smiling and were +listening intently. One of them stepped out and stood beside the +carriage door looking down at the shivering figure before him with a +close and curious scrutiny. + +“Eight months in prison!” echoed the police sergeant with a note of +triumph; “what did I tell you?” + +“Hold your tongue!” said the young man at the carriage door. There was +silence for a moment, while the men looked at the senator, as though +waiting for him to speak. + +“Where were you in prison, Mr. Arkwright?” he asked. + +“First in the calaboose at Santa Clara for two months, and then +in Cabanas. The Cubans who were taken when I was, were shot by the +fusillade on different days during this last month. Two of them, the +Ezetas, were father and son, and the Volunteer band played all the time +the execution was going on, so that the other prisoners might not hear +them cry ‘Cuba Libre’ when the order came to fire. But we heard them.” + +The senator shivered slightly and pulled his fur collar up farther +around his face. “I’d like to talk with you,” he said, “if you have +nothing to do to-morrow. I’d like to go into this thing thoroughly. +Congress must be made to take some action.” + +The young man clasped his hands eagerly. “Ah, Mr. Stanton, if you +would,” he cried, “if you would only give me an hour! I could tell you +so much that you could use. And you can believe what I say, sir--it is +not necessary to lie--God knows the truth is bad enough. I can give you +names and dates for everything I say. Or I can do better than that, sir. +I can take you there yourself--in three months I can show you all you +need to see, without danger to you in any way. And they would not know +me, now that I have grown a beard, and I am a skeleton to what I was. +I can speak the language well, and I know just what you should see, and +then you could come back as one speaking with authority and not have to +say, ‘I have read,’ or ‘have been told,’ but you can say, ‘These are the +things I have seen’--and you could free Cuba.” + +The senator coughed and put the question aside for the moment with a +wave of the hand that held his cigar. “We will talk of that to-morrow +also. Come to lunch with me at one. My apartments are in the Berkeley +on Fifth Avenue. But aren’t you afraid to go back there?” he asked +curiously. “I should think you’d had enough of it. And you’ve got a +touch of fever, haven’t you?” He leaned forward and peered into the +other’s eyes. + +“It is only the prison fever,” the young man answered; “food and this +cold will drive that out of me. And I must go back. There is so much to +do there,” he added. “Ah, if I could tell them, as you can tell them, +what I feel here.” He struck his chest sharply with his hand, and on the +instant fell into a fit of coughing so violent that the young man at +the carriage door caught him around the waist, and one of the policemen +supported him from the other side. + +“You need a doctor,” said the senator kindly. “I’ll ask mine to have a +look at you. Don’t forget, then, at one o’clock to-morrow. We will go +into this thing thoroughly.” He shook Arkwright warmly by the hand and +stooping stepped into the carriage. The young man who had stood at the +door followed him and crowded back luxuriously against the cushions. +The footman swung himself up beside the driver, and said “Uptown +Delmonico’s,” as he wrapped the fur rug around his legs, and with +a salute from the policemen and a scraping of hoofs on the slippery +asphalt the great man was gone. + +“That poor fellow needs a doctor,” he said as the carriage rolled up +the avenue, “and he needs an overcoat, and he needs food. He needs about +almost everything, by the looks of him.” + +But the voice of the young man in the corner of the carriage objected +drowsily-- + +“On the contrary,” he said, “it seemed to me that he had the one thing +needful.” + +By one o’clock of the day following, Senator Stanton, having read the +reports of his speech in the morning papers, punctuated with “Cheers,” + “Tremendous enthusiasm” and more “Cheers,” was still in a willing frame +of mind toward Cuba and her self-appointed envoy, young Mr. Arkwright. + +Over night he had had doubts but that the young man’s enthusiasm would +bore him on the morrow, but Mr. Arkwright, when he appeared, developed, +on the contrary, a practical turn of mind which rendered his suggestions +both flattering and feasible. He was still terribly in earnest, but +he was clever enough or serious enough to see that the motives which +appealed to him might not have sufficient force to move a successful +statesman into action. So he placed before the senator only those +arguments and reasons which he guessed were the best adapted to +secure his interest and his help. His proposal as he set it forth was +simplicity itself. + +“Here is a map of the island,” he said; “on it I have marked the places +you can visit in safety, and where you will meet the people you ought to +see. If you leave New York at midnight you can reach Tampa on the second +day. From Tampa we cross in another day to Havana. There you can visit +the Americans imprisoned in Morro and Cabanas, and in the streets you +can see the starving pacificos. From Havana I shall take you by rail to +Jucaro, Matanzas, Santa Clara and Cienfuegos. You will not be able +to see the insurgents in the fields--it is not necessary that you +should--but you can visit one of the sugar plantations and some of the +insurgent chiefs will run the forts by night and come in to talk with +you. I will show you burning fields and houses, and starving men and +women by the thousands, and men and women dying of fevers. You can see +Cuban prisoners shot by a firing squad and you can note how these rebels +meet death. You can see all this in three weeks and be back in New York +in a month, as any one can see it who wishes to learn the truth. Why, +English members of Parliament go all the way to India and British +Columbia to inform themselves about those countries, they travel +thousands of miles, but only one member of either of our houses of +Congress has taken the trouble to cross these eighty miles of water that +lie between us and Cuba. You can either go quietly and incognito, as +it were, or you can advertise the fact of your going, which would be +better. And from the moment you start the interest in your visit will +grow and increase until there will be no topic discussed in any of our +papers except yourself, and what you are doing and what you mean to do. + +“By the time you return the people will be waiting, ready and eager to +hear whatever you may have to say. Your word will be the last word for +them. It is not as though you were some demagogue seeking notoriety, or +a hotel piazza correspondent at Key West or Jacksonville. You are the +only statesman we have, the only orator Americans will listen to, and I +tell you that when you come before them and bring home to them as +only you can the horrors of this war, you will be the only man in this +country. You will be the Patrick Henry of Cuba; you can go down to +history as the man who added the most beautiful island in the seas to +the territory of the United States, who saved thousands of innocent +children and women, and who dared to do what no other politician has +dared to do--to go and see for himself and to come back and speak the +truth. It only means a month out of your life, a month’s trouble and +discomfort, but with no risk. What is a month out of a lifetime, when +that month means immortality to you and life to thousands? In a month +you would make a half dozen after-dinner speeches and cause your friends +to laugh and applaud. Why not wring their hearts instead, and hold this +thing up before them as it is, and shake it in their faces? Show it to +them in all its horror--bleeding, diseased and naked, an offence to our +humanity, and to our prated love of liberty, and to our God.” + +The young man threw himself eagerly forward and beat the map with his +open palm. But the senator sat apparently unmoved gazing thoughtfully +into the open fire, and shook his head. + +While the luncheon was in progress the young gentleman who the night +before had left the carriage and stood at Arkwright’s side, had entered +the room and was listening intently. He had invited himself to some +fresh coffee, and had then relapsed into an attentive silence, following +what the others said with an amused and interested countenance. Stanton +had introduced him as Mr. Livingstone, and appeared to take it for +granted that Arkwright would know who he was. He seemed to regard him +with a certain deference which Arkwright judged was due to some fixed +position the young man held, either of social or of political value. + +“I do not know,” said Stanton with consideration, “that I am prepared to +advocate the annexation of the island. It is a serious problem.” + +“I am not urging that,” Arkwright interrupted anxiously; “the +Cubans themselves do not agree as to that, and in any event it is an +afterthought. Our object now should be to prevent further bloodshed. If +you see a man beating a boy to death, you first save the boy’s life +and decide afterward where he is to go to school. If there were any one +else, senator,” Arkwright continued earnestly, “I would not trouble you. +But we all know your strength in this country. You are independent and +fearless, and men of both parties listen to you. Surely, God has given +you this great gift of oratory, if you will forgive my speaking so, to +use only in a great cause. A grand organ in a cathedral is placed there +to lift men’s thoughts to high resolves and purposes, not to make people +dance. A street organ can do that. Now, here is a cause worthy of your +great talents, worthy of a Daniel Webster, of a Henry Clay.” + +The senator frowned at the fire and shook his head doubtfully. + +“If they knew what I was down there for,” he asked, “wouldn’t they put +me in prison too?” + +Arkwright laughed incredulously. + +“Certainly not,” he said; “you would go there as a private citizen, as +a tourist to look on and observe. Spain is not seeking complications +of that sort. She has troubles enough without imprisoning United States +senators.” + +“Yes; but these fevers now,” persisted Stanton, “they’re no respecter +of persons, I imagine. A United States senator is not above smallpox or +cholera.” + +Arkwright shook his head impatiently and sighed. + +“It is difficult to make it clear to one who has not been there,” he +said. “These people and soldiers are dying of fever because they are +forced to live like pigs, and they are already sick with starvation. A +healthy man like yourself would be in no more danger than you would be +in walking through the wards of a New York hospital.” + +Senator Stanton turned in his armchair, and held up his hand +impressively. + +“If I were to tell them the things you have told me,” he said warningly, +“if I were to say I have seen such things--American property in flames, +American interests ruined, and that five times as many women and +children have died of fever and starvation in three months in Cuba as +the Sultan has massacred in Armenia in three years--it would mean war +with Spain.” + +“Well?” said Arkwright. + +Stanton shrugged his shoulders and sank back again in his chair. + +“It would either mean war,” Arkwright went on, “or it might mean the +sending of the Red Cross army to Cuba. It went to Constantinople, five +thousand miles away, to help the Armenian Christians--why has it waited +three years to go eighty miles to feed and clothe the Cuban women and +children? It is like sending help to a hungry peasant in Russia while a +man dies on your doorstep.” + +“Well,” said the senator, rising, “I will let you know to-morrow. +If it is the right thing to do, and if I can do it, of course it must +be done. We start from Tampa, you say? I know the presidents of all +of those roads and they’ll probably give me a private car for the trip +down. Shall we take any newspaper men with us, or shall I wait until I +get back and be interviewed? What do you think?” + +“I would wait until my return,” Arkwright answered, his eyes glowing +with the hope the senator’s words had inspired, “and then speak to a +mass-meeting here and in Boston and in Chicago. Three speeches will be +enough. Before you have finished your last one the American warships +will be in the harbor of Havana.” + +“Ah, youth, youth!” said the senator, smiling gravely, “it is no light +responsibility to urge a country into war.” + +“It is no light responsibility,” Arkwright answered, “to know you +have the chance to save the lives of thousands of little children and +helpless women and to let the chance pass.” + +“Quite so, that is quite true,” said the senator. “Well, good-morning. I +shall let you know to-morrow.” + +Young Livingstone went down in the elevator with Arkwright, and when +they had reached the sidewalk stood regarding him for a moment in +silence. + +“You mustn’t count too much on Stanton, you know,” he said kindly; “he +has a way of disappointing people.” + +“Ah, he can never disappoint me,” Arkwright answered confidently, “no +matter how much I expected. Besides, I have already heard him speak.” + +“I don’t mean that, I don’t mean he is disappointing as a speaker. +Stanton is a great orator, I think. Most of those Southerners are, and +he’s the only real orator I ever heard. But what I mean is, that he +doesn’t go into things impulsively; he first considers himself, and then +he considers every other side of the question before he commits himself +to it. Before he launches out on a popular wave he tries to find out +where it is going to land him. He likes the sort of popular wave that +carries him along with it where every one can see him; he doesn’t fancy +being hurled up on the beach with his mouth full of sand.” + +“You are saying that he is selfish, self-seeking?” Arkwright demanded +with a challenge in his voice. “I thought you were his friend.” + +“Yes, he is selfish, and yes, I am his friend,” the young man answered, +smiling; “at least, he seems willing to be mine. I am saying nothing +against him that I have not said to him. If you’ll come back with me up +the elevator I’ll tell him he’s a self-seeker and selfish, and with +no thought above his own interests. He won’t mind. He’d say I cannot +comprehend his motives. Why, you’ve only to look at his record. When the +Venezuelan message came out he attacked the President and declared he +was trying to make political capital and to drag us into war, and that +what we wanted was arbitration; but when the President brought out the +Arbitration Treaty he attacked that too in the Senate and destroyed +it. Why? Not because he had convictions, but because the President had +refused a foreign appointment to a friend of his in the South. He has +been a free silver man for the last ten years, he comes from a free +silver state, and the members of the legislature that elected him were +all for silver, but this last election his Wall Street friends got hold +of him and worked on his feelings, and he repudiated his party, his +state, and his constituents and came out for gold.” + +“Well, but surely,” Arkwright objected, “that took courage? To own that +for ten years you had been wrong, and to come out for the right at the +last.” + +Livingstone stared and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all a question of +motives,” he said indifferently. “I don’t want to shatter your idol; I +only want to save you from counting too much on him.” + +When Arkwright called on the morrow Senator Stanton was not at home, +and the day following he was busy, and could give him only a brief +interview. There were previous engagements and other difficulties in the +way of his going which he had not foreseen, he said, and he feared he +should have to postpone his visit to Cuba indefinitely. He asked if Mr. +Arkwright would be so kind as to call again within a week; he would then +be better able to give him a definite answer. + +Arkwright left the apartment with a sensation of such keen +disappointment that it turned him ill and dizzy. He felt that the great +purpose of his life was being played with and put aside. But he had not +selfish resentment on his own account; he was only the more determined +to persevere. He considered new arguments and framed new appeals; and +one moment blamed himself bitterly for having foolishly discouraged the +statesman by too vivid pictures of the horrors he might encounter, and +the next, questioned if he had not been too practical and so failed +because he had not made the terrible need of immediate help his sole +argument. Every hour wasted in delay meant, as he knew, the sacrifice +of many lives, and there were other, more sordid and more practical, +reasons for speedy action. For his supply of money was running low and +there was now barely enough remaining to carry him through the month of +travel he had planned to take at Stanton’s side. What would happen to +him when that momentous trip was over was of no consequence. He would +have done the work as far as his small share in it lay, he would have +set in motion a great power that was to move Congress and the people of +the United States to action. If he could but do that, what became of him +counted for nothing. + +But at the end of the week his fears and misgivings were scattered +gloriously and a single line from the senator set his heart leaping and +brought him to his knees in gratitude and thanksgiving. On returning one +afternoon to the mean lodging into which he had moved to save his money, +he found a telegram from Stanton and he tore it open trembling between +hope and fear. + +“Have arranged to leave for Tampa with you Monday, at midnight” it read. +“Call for me at ten o’clock same evening.--STANTON.” + +Arkwright read the message three times. There was a heavy, suffocating +pressure at his heart as though it had ceased beating. He sank back +limply upon the edge of his bed and clutching the piece of paper in his +two hands spoke the words aloud triumphantly as though to assure himself +that they were true. Then a flood of unspeakable relief, of happiness +and gratitude, swept over him, and he turned and slipped to the floor, +burying his face in the pillow, and wept out his thanks upon his knees. + +A man so deeply immersed in public affairs as was Stanton and with +such a multiplicity of personal interests, could not prepare to absent +himself for a month without his intention becoming known, and on the +day when he was to start for Tampa the morning newspapers proclaimed the +fact that he was about to visit Cuba. They gave to his mission all +the importance and display that Arkwright had foretold. Some of the +newspapers stated that he was going as a special commissioner of the +President to study and report; others that he was acting in behalf +of the Cuban legation in Washington and had plenipotentiary powers. +Opposition organs suggested that he was acting in the interests of +the sugar trust, and his own particular organ declared that it was his +intention to free Cuba at the risk of his own freedom, safety, and even +life. + +The Spanish minister in Washington sent a cable for publication to +Madrid, stating that a distinguished American statesman was about +to visit Cuba, to investigate, and, later, to deny the truth of the +disgraceful libels published concerning the Spanish officials on the +island by the papers of the United States. At the same time he cabled +in cipher to the captain-general in Havana to see that the distinguished +statesman was closely spied upon from the moment of his arrival until +his departure, and to place on the “suspect” list all Americans and +Cubans who ventured to give him any information. + +The afternoon papers enlarged on the importance of the visit and on the +good that would surely come of it. They told that Senator Stanton had +refused to be interviewed or to disclose the object of his journey. But +it was enough, they said, that some one in authority was at last to seek +out the truth, and added that no one would be listened to with greater +respect than would the Southern senator. On this all the editorial +writers were agreed. + +The day passed drearily for Arkwright. Early in the morning he packed +his valise and paid his landlord, and for the remainder of the day +walked the streets or sat in the hotel corridor waiting impatiently for +each fresh edition of the papers. In them he read the signs of the great +upheaval of popular feeling that was to restore peace and health and +plenty to the island for which he had given his last three years of +energy and life. + +He was trembling with excitement, as well as with the cold, when at ten +o’clock precisely he stood at Senator Stanton’s door. He had forgotten +to eat his dinner, and the warmth of the dimly lit hall and the odor of +rich food which was wafted from an inner room touched his senses with +tantalizing comfort. + +“The senator says you are to come this way, sir,” the servant directed. +He took Arkwright’s valise from his hand and parted the heavy curtains +that hid the dining-room, and Arkwright stepped in between them and then +stopped in some embarrassment. He found himself in the presence of a +number of gentlemen seated at a long dinner-table, who turned their +heads as he entered and peered at him through the smoke that floated in +light layers above the white cloth. The dinner had been served, but the +senator’s guests still sat with their chairs pushed back from a table +lighted by candles under yellow shades, and covered with beautiful +flowers and with bottles of varied sizes in stands of quaint and +intricate design. Senator Stanton’s tall figure showed dimly through the +smoke, and his deep voice hailed Arkwright cheerily from the farther end +of the room. “This way, Mr. Arkwright,” he said. “I have a chair waiting +for you here.” He grasped Arkwright’s hand warmly and pulled him into +the vacant place at his side. An elderly gentleman on Arkwright’s other +side moved to make more room for him and shoved a liqueur glass toward +him with a friendly nod and pointed at an open box of cigars. He was a +fine-looking man, and Arkwright noticed that he was regarding him with +a glance of the keenest interest. All of those at the table were men of +twice Arkwright’s age, except Livingstone, whom he recognized and +who nodded to him pleasantly and at the same time gave an order to a +servant, pointing at Arkwright as he did so. Some of the gentlemen +wore their business suits, and one opposite Arkwright was still in his +overcoat, and held his hat in his hand. These latter seemed to have +arrived after the dinner had begun, for they formed a second line +back of those who had places at the table; they all seemed to know one +another and were talking with much vivacity and interest. + +Stanton did not attempt to introduce Arkwright to his guests +individually, but said: “Gentlemen, this is Mr. Arkwright, of whom I +have been telling you, the young gentleman who has done such magnificent +work for the cause of Cuba.” Those who caught Arkwright’s eye nodded to +him, and others raised their glasses at him, but with a smile that +he could not understand. It was as though they all knew something +concerning him of which he was ignorant. He noted that the faces of some +were strangely familiar, and he decided that he must have seen their +portraits in the public prints. After he had introduced Arkwright, the +senator drew his chair slightly away from him and turned in what seemed +embarrassment to the man on his other side. The elderly gentleman next +to Arkwright filled his glass, a servant placed a small cup of coffee at +his elbow, and he lit a cigar and looked about him. + +“You must find this weather very trying after the tropics,” his neighbor +said. + +Arkwright assented cordially. The brandy was flowing through his veins +and warming him; he forgot that he was hungry, and the kind, interested +glances of those about him set him at his ease. It was a propitious +start, he thought, a pleasant leave-taking for the senator and himself, +full of good will and good wishes. + +He turned toward Stanton and waited until he had ceased speaking. + +“The papers have begun well, haven’t they?” he asked, eagerly. + +He had spoken in a low voice, almost in a whisper, but those about the +table seemed to have heard him, for there was silence instantly and when +he glanced up he saw the eyes of all turned upon him and he noticed on +their faces the same smile he had seen there when he entered. + +“Yes,” Stanton answered constrainedly. “Yes, I--” he lowered his voice, +but the silence still continued. Stanton had his eyes fixed on the +table, but now he frowned and half rose from his chair. + +“I want to speak with you, Arkwright,” he said. “Suppose we go into the +next room. I’ll be back in a moment,” he added, nodding to the others. + +But the man on his right removed his cigar from his lips and said in an +undertone, “No, sit down, stay where you are;” and the elderly gentleman +at Arkwright’s side laid his hand detainingly on his arm. “Oh, you won’t +take Mr. Arkwright away from us, Stanton?” he asked, smiling. + +Stanton shrugged his shoulders and sat down again, and there was a +moment’s pause. It was broken by the man in the overcoat, who laughed. + +“He’s paying you a compliment, Mr. Arkwright,” he said. He pointed with +his cigar to the gentleman at Arkwright’s side. + +“I don’t understand,” Arkwright answered doubtfully. + +“It’s a compliment to your eloquence--he’s afraid to leave you alone +with the senator. Livingstone’s been telling us that you are a better +talker than Stanton.” Arkwright turned a troubled countenance toward the +men about the table, and then toward Livingstone, but that young man had +his eyes fixed gravely on the glasses before him and did not raise them. + +Arkwright felt a sudden, unreasonable fear of the circle of +strong-featured, serene and confident men about him. They seemed to +be making him the subject of a jest, to be enjoying something among +themselves of which he was in ignorance, but which concerned him +closely. He turned a white face toward Stanton. + +“You don’t mean,” he began piteously, “that--that you are not going? Is +that it--tell me--is that what you wanted to say?” + +Stanton shifted in his chair and muttered some words between his lips, +then turned toward Arkwright and spoke quite clearly and distinctly. + +“I am very sorry, Mr. Arkwright,” he said, “but I am afraid I’ll have to +disappoint you. Reasons I cannot now explain have arisen which make my +going impossible--quite impossible,” he added firmly--“not only now, but +later,” he went on quickly, as Arkwright was about to interrupt him. + +Arkwright made no second attempt to speak. He felt the muscles of his +face working and the tears coming to his eyes, and to hide his weakness +he twisted in his chair and sat staring ahead of him with his back +turned to the table. He heard Livingstone’s voice break the silence with +some hurried question, and immediately his embarrassment was hidden in a +murmur of answers and the moving of glasses as the men shifted in their +chairs and the laughter and talk went on as briskly as before. Arkwright +saw a sideboard before him and a servant arranging some silver on one of +the shelves. He watched the man do this with a concentrated interest +as though the dull, numbed feeling in his brain caught at the trifle in +order to put off, as long as possible, the consideration of the truth. + +And then beyond the sideboard and the tapestry on the wall above it, he +saw the sun shining down upon the island of Cuba, he saw the royal palms +waving and bending, the dusty columns of Spanish infantry crawling along +the white roads and leaving blazing huts and smoking cane-fields in +their wake; he saw skeletons of men and women seeking for food among the +refuse of the street; he heard the order given to the firing squad, the +splash of the bullets as they scattered the plaster on the prison wall, +and he saw a kneeling figure pitch forward on its face, with a useless +bandage tied across its sightless eyes. + +Senator Stanton brought him back with a sharp shake of the shoulder. He +had also turned his back on the others, and was leaning forward with +his elbows on his knees. He spoke rapidly, and in a voice only slightly +raised above a whisper. + +“I am more than sorry, Arkwright,” he said earnestly. “You mustn’t blame +me altogether. I have had a hard time of it this afternoon. I wanted to +go. I really wanted to go. The thing appealed to me, it touched me, it +seemed as if I owed it to myself to do it. But they were too many for +me,” he added with a backward toss of his head toward the men around his +table. + +“If the papers had not told on me I could have got well away,” he went +on in an eager tone, “but as soon as they read of it, they came here +straight from their offices. You know who they are, don’t you?” + he asked, and even in his earnestness there was an added touch of +importance in his tone as he spoke the name of his party’s leader, of +men who stood prominently in Wall Street and who were at the head of +great trusts. + +“You see how it is,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “They have +enormous interests at stake. They said I would drag them into war, that +I would disturb values, that the business interests of the country would +suffer. I’m under obligations to most of them, they have advised me +in financial matters, and they threatened--they threatened to make +it unpleasant for me.” His voice hardened and he drew in his breath +quickly, and laughed. “You wouldn’t understand if I were to tell you. +It’s rather involved. And after all, they may be right, agitation may +be bad for the country. And your party leader after all is your party +leader, isn’t he, and if he says ‘no’ what are you to do? My sympathies +are just as keen for these poor women and children as ever, but as these +men say, ‘charity begins at home,’ and we mustn’t do anything to bring +on war prices again, or to send stocks tumbling about our heads, must +we?” He leaned back in his chair again and sighed. “Sympathy is an +expensive luxury, I find,” he added. + +Arkwright rose stiffly and pushed Stanton away from him with his hand. +He moved like a man coming out of a dream. + +“Don’t talk to me like that,” he said in a low voice. The noise about +the table ended on the instant, but Arkwright did not notice that it had +ceased. “You know I don’t understand that,” he went on; “what does it +matter to me!” He put his hand up to the side of his face and held it +there, looking down at Stanton. He had the dull, heavy look in his eyes +of a man who has just come through an operation under some heavy drug. +“‘Wall Street,’ ‘trusts,’ ‘party leaders,’” he repeated, “what are they +to me? The words don’t reach me, they have lost their meaning, it is a +language I have forgotten, thank God!” he added. He turned and moved his +eyes around the table, scanning the faces of the men before him. + +“Yes, you are twelve to one,” he said at last, still speaking dully and +in a low voice, as though he were talking to himself. “You have won a +noble victory, gentlemen. I congratulate you. But I do not blame you, we +are all selfish and self-seeking. I thought I was working only for Cuba, +but I was working for myself, just as you are. I wanted to feel that it +was I who had helped to bring relief to that plague-spot, that it was +through my efforts the help had come. Yes, if he had done as I asked, I +suppose I would have taken the credit.” + +He swayed slightly, and to steady himself caught at the back of his +chair. But at the same moment his eyes glowed fiercely and he held +himself erect again. He pointed with his finger at the circle of great +men who sat looking up at him in curious silence. + +“You are like a ring of gamblers around a gaming table,” he cried +wildly, “who see nothing but the green cloth and the wheel and the piles +of money before them, who forget in watching the money rise and +fall, that outside the sun is shining, that human beings are sick and +suffering, that men are giving their lives for an idea, for a sentiment, +for a flag. You are the money-changers in the temple of this great +republic and the day will come, I pray to God, when you will be scourged +and driven out with whips. Do you think you can form combines and deals +that will cheat you into heaven? Can your ‘trusts’ save your souls--is +‘Wall Street’ the strait and narrow road to salvation?” + +The men about the table leaned back and stared at Arkwright in as great +amazement as though he had violently attempted an assault upon their +pockets, or had suddenly gone mad in their presence. Some of them +frowned, and others appeared not to have heard, and others smiled grimly +and waited for him to continue as though they were spectators at a play. + +The political leader broke the silence with a low aside to Stanton. +“Does the gentleman belong to the Salvation Army?” he asked. + +Arkwright whirled about and turned upon him fiercely. + +“Old gods give way to new gods,” he cried. “Here is your brother. I am +speaking for him. Do you ever think of him? How dare you sneer at me?” + he cried. “You can crack your whip over that man’s head and turn him +from what in his heart and conscience he knows is right; you can crack +your whip over the men who call themselves free-born American citizens +and who have made you their boss--sneer at them if you like, but you +have no collar on my neck. If you are a leader, why don’t you lead your +people to what is good and noble? Why do you stop this man in the work +God sent him here to do? You would make a party hack of him, a political +prostitute, something lower than the woman who walks the streets. She +sells her body--this man is selling his soul.” + +He turned, trembling and quivering, and shook his finger above the +upturned face of the senator. + +“What have you done with your talents, Stanton?” he cried. “What have +you done with your talents?” + +The man in the overcoat struck the table before him with his fist so +that the glasses rang. + +“By God,” he laughed, “I call him a better speaker than Stanton! +Livingstone’s right, he IS better than Stanton--but he lacks Stanton’s +knack of making himself popular,” he added. He looked around the table +inviting approbation with a smile, but no one noticed him, nor spoke to +break the silence. + +Arkwright heard the words dully and felt that he was being mocked. He +covered his face with his hands and stood breathing brokenly; his body +was still trembling with an excitement he could not master. + +Stanton rose from his chair and shook him by the shoulder. “Are you mad, +Arkwright?” he cried. “You have no right to insult my guests or me. Be +calm--control yourself.” + +“What does it matter what I say?” Arkwright went on desperately. “I am +mad. Yes, that is it, I am mad. They have won and I have lost, and it +drove me beside myself. I counted on you. I knew that no one else could +let my people go. But I’ll not trouble you again. I wish you good-night, +sir, and good-bye. If I have been unjust, you must forget it.” + +He turned sharply, but Stanton placed a detaining hand on his shoulder. +“Wait,” he commanded querulously; “where are you going? Will you, +still--?” + +Arkwright bowed his head. “Yes,” he answered. “I have but just time now +to catch our train--my train, I mean.” + +He looked up at Stanton and taking his hand in both of his, drew the man +toward him. All the wildness and intolerance in his manner had passed, +and as he raised his eyes they were full of a firm resolve. + +“Come,” he said simply; “there is yet time. Leave these people behind +you. What can you answer when they ask what have you done with your +talents?” + +“Good God, Arkwright,” the senator exclaimed angrily, pulling his hand +away; “don’t talk like a hymn-book, and don’t make another scene. What +you ask is impossible. Tell me what I can do to help you in any other +way, and--” + +“Come,” repeated the young man firmly. + +“The world may judge you by what you do to-night.” + +Stanton looked at the boy for a brief moment with a strained and eager +scrutiny, and then turned away abruptly and shook his head in silence, +and Arkwright passed around the table and on out of the room. + +A month later, as the Southern senator was passing through the +reading-room of the Union Club, Livingstone beckoned to him, and handing +him an afternoon paper pointed at a paragraph in silence. + +The paragraph was dated Sagua la Grande, and read: + +“The body of Henry Arkwright, an American civil engineer, was brought +into Sagua to-day by a Spanish column. It was found lying in a road +three miles beyond the line of forts. Arkwright was surprised by a +guerilla force while attempting to make his way to the insurgent camp, +and on resisting was shot. The body has been handed over to the American +consul for interment. It is badly mutilated.” + +Stanton lowered the paper and stood staring out of the window at the +falling snow and the cheery lights and bustling energy of the avenue. + +“Poor fellow,” he said, “he wanted so much to help them. And he didn’t +accomplish anything, did he?” + +Livingstone stared at the older man and laughed shortly. + +“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “He died. Some of us only live.” + + + + +THE VAGRANT + +His Excellency Sir Charles Greville, K. C. M. G., Governor of the +Windless Islands, stood upon the veranda of Government House surveying +the new day with critical and searching eyes. Sir Charles had been +so long absolute monarch of the Windless Isles that he had assumed +unconsciously a mental attitude of suzerainty over even the glittering +waters of the Caribbean Sea, and the coral reefs under the waters, +and the rainbow skies that floated above them. But on this particular +morning not even the critical eye of the Governor could distinguish a +single flaw in the tropical landscape before him. + +The lawn at his feet ran down to meet the dazzling waters of the bay, +the blue waters of the bay ran to meet a great stretch of absinthe +green, the green joined a fairy sky of pink and gold and saffron. +Islands of coral floated on the sea of absinthe, and derelict clouds of +mother-of-pearl swung low above them, starting from nowhere and going +nowhere, but drifting beautifully, like giant soap-bubbles of light and +color. Where the lawn touched the waters of the bay the cocoanut-palms +reached their crooked lengths far up into the sunshine, and as the +sea-breeze stirred their fronds they filled the hot air with whispers +and murmurs like the fluttering of many fans. Nature smiled boldly upon +the Governor, confident in her bountiful beauty, as though she said, +“Surely you cannot but be pleased with me to-day.” And, as though in +answer, the critical and searching glance of Sir Charles relaxed. + +The crunching of the gravel and the rattle of the sentry’s musket at +salute recalled him to his high office and to the duties of the morning. +He waved his hand, and, as though it were a wand, the sentry moved +again, making his way to the kitchen-garden, and so around Government +House and back to the lawn-tennis court, maintaining in his solitary +pilgrimage the dignity of her Majesty’s representative, as well as her +Majesty’s power over the Windless Isles. + +The Governor smiled slightly, with the ease of mind of one who finds +all things good. Supreme authority, surroundings of endless beauty, the +respectful, even humble, deference of his inferiors, and never even an +occasional visit from a superior, had in four years lowered him into a +bed of ease and self-satisfaction. He was cut off from the world, and +yet of it. Each month there came, via Jamaica, the three weeks’ old copy +of The Weekly Times; he subscribed to Mudie’s Colonial Library; and +from the States he had imported an American lawn-mower, the mechanism of +which no one as yet understood. Within his own borders he had created +a healthy, orderly seaport out of what had been a sink of fever and a +refuge for all the ne’er-do-wells and fugitive revolutionists of Central +America. + +He knew, as he sat each evening on his veranda, looking across the +bay, that in the world beyond the pink and gold sunset men were still +panting, struggling, and starving; crises were rising and passing; +strikes and panics, wars and the rumors of wars, swept from continent to +continent; a plague crept through India; a filibuster with five hundred +men at his back crossed an imaginary line and stirred the world from +Cape Town to London; Emperors were crowned; the good Queen celebrated +the longest reign; and a captain of artillery imprisoned in a swampy +island in the South Atlantic caused two hemispheres to clamor for +his rescue, and lit a race war that stretched from Algiers to the +boulevards. + +And yet, at the Windless Isles, all these happenings seemed to Sir +Charles like the morning’s memory of a dream. For these things never +crossed the ring of the coral reefs; he saw them only as pictures in an +illustrated paper a month old. And he was pleased to find that this +was so. He was sufficient to himself, with his own responsibilities and +social duties and public works. + +He was a man in authority, who said to others, “Come!” and “Go!” Under +him were commissioners, and under the commissioners district inspectors +and boards of education and of highways. For the better health of the +colony he had planted trees that sucked the malaria from the air; +for its better morals he had substituted as a Sunday amusement +cricket-matches for cock-fights; and to keep it at peace he had created +a local constabulary of native negroes, and had dressed them in the +cast-off uniforms of London policemen. His handiwork was everywhere, +and his interest was all sunk in his handiwork. The days passed gorgeous +with sunshine, the nights breathed with beauty. It was an existence +of leisurely occupation, and one that promised no change, and he was +content. + +As it was Thursday, the Council met that morning, and some questions +of moment to the colony were to be brought up for consideration. +The question of the dog-tax was one which perplexed Sir Charles most +particularly. The two Councillors elected by the people and the three +appointed by the crown had disagreed as to this tax. Of the five hundred +British subjects at the seaport, all but ten were owners of dogs, and it +had occurred to Sassoon, the chemist, that a tax of half-a-crown a +year on each of these dogs would meet the expense of extending the +oyster-shell road to the new cricket-grounds. To this Snellgrove, who +held the contract for the narrow-gauge railroad, agreed; but the three +crown Councillors opposed the tax vigorously, on the ground that as +scavengers alone the dogs were a boon to the colony and should be +encouraged. The fact that each of these gentlemen owned not only one, +but several dogs of high pedigree made their position one of great +delicacy. + +There was no way by which the Governor could test the popular will +in the matter, except through his secretary, Mr. Clarges, who, at the +cricket-match between the local eleven and the officers and crew of +H. M. S. Partridge, had been informed by the other owners of several +fox-terriers that, in their opinion, the tax was a piece of “condemned +tommy-rot.” From this the Governor judged that it would not prove a +popular measure. As he paced the veranda, drawing deliberately on his +cigar, and considering to which party he should give the weight of +his final support, his thoughts were disturbed by the approach of a +stranger, who advanced along the gravel walk, guarded on either side +by one of the local constabulary. The stranger was young and of poor +appearance. His bare feet were bound in a pair of the rope sandals worn +by the natives, his clothing was of torn and soiled drill, and he fanned +his face nonchalantly with a sombrero of battered and shapeless felt. + +Sir Charles halted in his walk, and holding his cigar behind his back, +addressed himself to the sergeant. + +“A vagrant?” he asked. + +The words seemed to bear some amusing significance to the stranger, for +his face lit instantly with a sweet and charming smile, and while he +turned to hear the sergeant’s reply, he regarded him with a kindly and +affectionate interest. + +“Yes, your Excellency.” + +The Governor turned to the prisoner. + +“Do you know the law of this colony regarding vagrants?” + +“I do not,” the young man answered. His tone was politely curious, and +suggested that he would like to be further informed as to the local +peculiarities of a foreign country. + +“After two weeks’ residence,” the Governor recited, impressively, “all +able-bodied persons who will not work are put to work or deported. Have +you made any effort to find work?” + +Again the young man smiled charmingly. He shook his head and laughed. +“Oh dear no,” he said. + +The laugh struck the Governor as impertinent. + +“Then you must leave by the next mail-steamer, if you have any money to +pay your passage, or, if you have no money, you must go to work on the +roads. Have you any money?” + +“If I had, I wouldn’t--be a vagrant,” the young man answered. His voice +was low and singularly sweet. It seemed to suit the indolence of his +attitude and the lazy, inconsequent smile. “I called on our consular +agent here,” he continued, leisurely, “to write a letter home for money, +but he was disgracefully drunk, so I used his official note-paper to +write to the State Department about him, instead.” + +The Governor’s deepest interest was aroused. The American consular agent +was one of the severest trials he was forced to endure. + +“You are not a British subject, then? Ah, I see--and--er--your +representative was unable to assist you?” + +“He was drunk,” the young man repeated, placidly. “He has been drunk +ever since I have been here, particularly in the mornings.” + +He halted, as though the subject had lost interest for him, and gazed +pleasantly at the sunny bay and up at the moving palms. + +“Then,” said the Governor, as though he had not been interrupted, “as +you have no means of support, you will help support the colony until you +can earn money to leave it. That will do, sergeant.” + +The young man placed his hat upon his head and turned to move away, but +at the first step he swayed suddenly and caught at the negro’s shoulder, +clasping his other hand across his eyes. The sergeant held him by the +waist, and looked up at the Governor with some embarrassment. + +“The young gentleman has not been well, Sir Charles,” he said, +apologetically. + +The stranger straightened himself up and smiled vaguely. “I’m all +right,” he murmured. “Sun’s too hot.” + +“Sit down,” said the Governor. + +He observed the stranger more closely. He noticed now that beneath the +tan his face was delicate and finely cut, and that his yellow hair clung +closely to a well-formed head. + +“He seems faint. Has he had anything to eat?” asked the Governor. + +The sergeant grinned guiltily. “Yes, Sir Charles; we’ve been feeding him +at the barracks. It’s fever, sir.” + +Sir Charles was not unacquainted with fallen gentlemen, “beach-combers,” + “remittance men,” and vagrants who had known better days, and there had +been something winning in this vagrant’s smile, and, moreover, he had +reported that thorn in his flesh, the consular agent, to the proper +authorities. + +He conceived an interest in a young man who, though with naked feet, did +not hesitate to correspond with his Minister of Foreign Affairs. + +“How long have you been ill?” he asked. + +The young man looked up from where he had sunk on the steps, and roused +himself with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve had a touch +of Chagres ever since I was on the Isthmus. I was at work there on the +railroad.” + +“Did you come here from Colon?” + +“No; I worked up the Pacific side. I was clerking with Rossner Brothers +at Amapala for a while, because I speak a little German, and then I +footed it over to Puerto Cortez and got a job with the lottery people. +They gave me twenty dollars a month gold for rolling the tickets, and +I put it all in the drawing, and won as much as ten.” He laughed, and +sitting erect, drew from his pocket a roll of thin green papers. “These +are for the next drawing,” he said. “Have some?” he added. He held +them towards the negro sergeant, who, under the eye of the Governor, +resisted, and then spread the tickets on his knee like a hand at cards. +“I stand to win a lot with these,” he said, with a cheerful sigh. “You +see, until the list’s published I’m prospectively worth twenty +thousand dollars. And,” he added, “I break stones in the sun.” He rose +unsteadily, and saluted the Governor with a nod. “Good-morning, sir,” he +said, “and thank you.” + +“Wait,” Sir Charles commanded. A new form of punishment had suggested +itself, in which justice was tempered with mercy. “Can you work one of +your American lawn-mowers?” he asked. + +The young man laughed delightedly. “I never tried,” he said, “but I’ve +seen it done.” + +“If you’ve been ill, it would be murder to put you on the shell +road.” The Governor’s dignity relaxed into a smile. “I don’t desire +international complications,” he said. “Sergeant, take this--him--to the +kitchen, and tell Corporal Mallon to give him that American lawn-mowing +machine. Possibly he may understand its mechanism. Mallon only cuts +holes in the turf with it.” And he waved his hand in dismissal, and as +the three men moved away he buried himself again in the perplexities of +the dog-tax. + +Ten minutes later the deliberations of the Council were disturbed by a +loud and persistent rattle, like the whir of a Maxim gun, which proved, +on investigation, to arise from the American lawn-mower. The vagrant was +propelling it triumphantly across the lawn, and gazing down at it with +the same fond pride with which a nursemaid leans over the perambulator +to observe her lusty and gurgling charge. + + +The Councillors had departed, Sir Charles was thinking of breakfast, the +Maxim-like lawn-mower still irritated the silent hush of midday, when +from the waters of the inner harbor there came suddenly the sharp report +of a saluting gun and the rush of falling anchor-chains. There was +still a week to pass before the mail-steamer should arrive, and H. M. S. +Partridge had departed for Nassau. Besides these ships, no other vessel +had skirted the buoys of the bay in eight long smiling months. Mr. +Clarges, the secretary, with an effort to appear calm, and the orderly, +suffocated with the news, entered through separate doors at the same +instant. + +The secretary filed his report first. “A yacht’s just anchored in the +bay, Sir Charles,” he said. + +The orderly’s face fell. He looked aggrieved. “An American yacht,” he +corrected. + +“And much larger than the Partridge,” continued the secretary. + +The orderly took a hasty glance back over his shoulder. “She has her +launch lowered already, sir,” he said. + +Outside the whir of the lawn-mower continued undisturbed. Sir Charles +reached for his marine-glass, and the three men hurried to the veranda. + +“It looks like a man-of-war,” said Sir Charles. “No,” he added, +adjusting the binocular; “she’s a yacht. She flies the New York Yacht +Club pennant--now she’s showing the owner’s absent pennant. He must have +left in the launch. He’s coming ashore now.” + +“He seems in a bit of a hurry,” growled Mr. Clarges. + +“Those Americans always--” murmured Sir Charles from behind the +binocular. He did not quite know that he enjoyed this sudden onslaught +upon the privacy of his harbor and port. + +It was in itself annoying, and he was further annoyed to find that it +could in the least degree disturb his poise. + +The launch was growing instantly larger, like an express train +approaching a station at full speed; her flags flew out as flat as +pieces of painted tin; her bits of brass-work flashed like fire. Already +the ends of the wharves were white with groups of natives. + +“You might think he was going to ram the town,” suggested the secretary. + +“Oh, I say,” he exclaimed, in remonstrance, “he’s making in for your +private wharf.” + +The Governor was rearranging the focus of the glass with nervous +fingers. “I believe,” he said, “no--yes--upon my word, there are--there +are ladies in that launch!” + +“Ladies, sir!” The secretary threw a hasty glance at the binocular, but +it was in immediate use. + +The clatter of the lawn-mower ceased suddenly, and the relief of its +silence caused the Governor to lower his eyes. He saw the lawn-mower +lying prostrate on the grass. The vagrant had vanished. + +There was a sharp tinkle of bells, and the launch slipped up to the +wharf and halted as softly as a bicycle. A man in a yachting-suit jumped +from her, and making some laughing speech to the two women in the stern, +walked briskly across the lawn, taking a letter from his pocket as he +came. Sir Charles awaited him gravely; the occupants of the launch had +seen him, and it was too late to retreat. + +“Sir Charles Greville, I believe,” said the yachtsman. He bowed, and ran +lightly up the steps. “I am Mr. Robert Collier, from New York,” he said. +“I have a letter to you from your ambassador at Washington. If you’ll +pardon me, I’ll present it in person. I had meant to leave it, but +seeing you--” He paused, and gave the letter in his hand to Sir Charles, +who waved him towards his library. + +Sir Charles scowled at the letter through his monocle, and then shook +hands with his visitor. “I am very glad to see you, Mr. Collier,” he +said. “He says here you are preparing a book on our colonies in the West +Indies.” He tapped the letter with his monocle. “I am sure I shall be +most happy to assist you with any information in my power.” + +“Well, I am writing a book--yes,” Mr. Collier observed, doubtfully, +“but it’s a logbook. This trip I am on pleasure bent, and I also wish +to consult with you on a personal matter. However, that can wait.” He +glanced out of the windows to where the launch lay in the sun. “My wife +came ashore with me, Sir Charles,” he said, “so that in case there was +a Lady Greville, Mrs. Collier could call on her, and we could ask if you +would waive etiquette and do us the honor to dine with us to-night on +the yacht--that is, if you are not engaged.” + +Sir Charles smiled. “There is no Lady Greville,” he said, “and I +personally do not think I am engaged elsewhere.” He paused in thought, +as though to make quite sure he was not. “No,” he added, “I have no +other engagement. I will come with pleasure.” + +Sir Charles rose and clapped his hands for the orderly. “Possibly the +ladies will come up to the veranda?” he asked. “I cannot allow them to +remain at the end of my wharf.” He turned, and gave directions to the +orderly to bring limes and bottles of soda and ice, and led the way +across the lawn. + +Mrs. Collier and her friend had not explored the grounds of Government +House for over ten minutes before Sir Charles felt that many years ago +he had personally arranged their visit, that he had known them for even +a longer time, and that, now that they had finally arrived, they must +never depart. + +To them there was apparently nothing on his domain which did not thrill +with delightful interest. They were as eager as two children at a +pantomime, and as unconscious. As a rule, Sir Charles had found it +rather difficult to meet the women of his colony on a path which they +were capable of treading intelligently. In fairness to them, he +had always sought out some topic in which they could take an equal +part--something connected with the conduct of children, or the better +ventilation of the new school-house and chapel. But these new-comers did +not require him to select topics of conversation; they did not even wait +for him to finish those which he himself introduced. They flitted from +one end of the garden to the other with the eagerness of two midshipmen +on shore leave, and they found something to enjoy in what seemed to +the Governor the most commonplace of things. The Zouave uniform of the +sentry, the old Spanish cannon converted into peaceful gate-posts, the +aviary with its screaming paroquets, the botanical station, and even the +ice-machine were all objects of delight. + +On the other hand, the interior of the famous palace, which had been +sent out complete from London, and which was wont to fill the wives of +the colonials with awe or to reduce them to whispers, for some reason +failed of its effect. But they said they “loved” the large gold V. R.’s +on the back of the Councillors’ chairs, and they exclaimed aloud over +the red leather despatch-boxes and the great seal of the colony, and the +mysterious envelopes marked “On her Majesty’s service.” + +“Isn’t it too exciting, Florence?” demanded Mrs. Collier. “This is +the table where Sir Charles sits and writes letters ‘on her Majesty’s +service,’ and presses these buttons, and war-ships spring up in perfect +shoals. Oh, Robert,” she sighed, “I do wish you had been a Governor!” + +The young lady called Florence stood looking down into the great +arm-chair in front of the Governor’s table. + +“May I?” she asked. She slid fearlessly in between the oak arms of the +chair and smiled about her. Afterwards Sir Charles remembered her as she +appeared at that moment with the red leather of the chair behind her, +with her gloved hands resting on the carved oak, and her head on one +side, smiling up at him. She gazed with large eyes at the blue linen +envelopes, the stiff documents in red tape, the tray of black sand, and +the goose-quill pens. + +“I am now the Countess Zika,” she announced; “no, I am Diana of the +Crossways, and I mean to discover a state secret and sell it to the +Daily Telegraph. Sir Charles,” she demanded, “if I press this electric +button is war declared anywhere, or what happens?” + +“That second button,” said Sir Charles, after deliberate scrutiny, “is +the one which communicates with the pantry.” + +The Governor would not consider their returning to the yacht for +luncheon. + +“You might decide to steam away as suddenly as you came,” he said, +gallantly, “and I cannot take that chance. This is Bachelor’s Hall, so +you must pardon my people if things do not go very smoothly.” He himself +led them to the great guest-chamber, where there had not been a guest +for many years, and he noticed, as though for the first time, that +the halls through which they passed were bare, and that the floor was +littered with unpacked boxes and gun-cases. He also observed for the +first time that maps of the colony, with the coffee-plantations and +mahogany belt marked in different inks, were not perhaps so decorative +as pictures and mirrors and family portraits. And he could have wished +that the native servants had not stared so admiringly at the guests, +nor directed each other in such aggressive whispers. On those other +occasions, when the wives of the Councillors came to the semi-annual +dinners, the native servants had seemed adequate to all that was +required of them. He recollected with a flush that in the town these +semi-annual dinners were described as banquets. He wondered if to these +visitors from the outside world it was all equally provincial. + +But their enjoyment was apparently unfeigned and generous. It was +evident that they had known each other for many years, yet they received +every remark that any of them made as though it had been pronounced by a +new and interesting acquaintance. Sir Charles found it rather difficult +to keep up with the talk across the table, they changed the subject +so rapidly, and they half spoke of so many things without waiting to +explain. He could not at once grasp the fact that people who had no +other position in the world save that of observers were speaking so +authoritatively of public men and public measures. He found, to his +delight, that for the first time in several years he was not presiding +at his own table, and that his guests seemed to feel no awe of him. + +“What’s the use of a yacht nowadays?” Collier was saying--“what’s the +use of a yacht, when you can go to sleep in a wagon-lit at the Gare du +Nord, and wake up at Vladivostok? And look at the time it saves; eleven +days to Gib, six to Port Said, and fifteen to Colombo--there you are, +only half-way around, and you’re already sixteen days behind the man in +the wagon-lit.” + +“But nobody wants to go to Vladivostok,” said Miss Cameron, “or anywhere +else in a wagon-lit. But with a yacht you can explore out-of-the-way +places, and you meet new and interesting people. We wouldn’t have met +Sir Charles if we had waited for a wagon-lit.” She bowed her head to +the Governor, and he smiled with gratitude. He had lost Mr. Collier +somewhere in the Indian Ocean, and he was glad she had brought them back +to the Windless Isles once more. + +“And again I repeat that the answer to that is, ‘Why not? said the March +Hare,’” remarked Mr. Collier, determinedly. + +The answer, as an answer, did not strike Sir Charles as a very good one. +But the ladies seemed to comprehend, for Miss Cameron said: “Did I tell +you about meeting him at Oxford just a few months before his death--at +a children’s tea-party? He was so sweet and understanding with them! +Two women tried to lionize him, and he ran away and played with the +children. I was more glad to meet him than any one I can think of. Not +as a personage, you know, but because I felt grateful to him.” + +“Yes, that way, distinctly,” said Mrs. Collier. “I should have felt that +way towards Mrs. Ewing more than any one else.” + +“I know, ‘Jackanapes,’” remarked Collier, shortly; “a brutal assault +upon the feelings, I say.” + +“Some one else said it before you, Robert,” Mrs. Collier commented, +calmly. “Perhaps Sir Charles met him at Apia.” They all turned and +looked at him. He wished he could say he had met him at Apia. He did +not quite see how they had made their way from a children’s tea party +at Oxford to the South Pacific islands, but he was anxious to join in +somewhere with a clever observation. But they never seemed to settle in +one place sufficiently long for him to recollect what he knew of it. He +hoped they would get around to the west coast of Africa in time. He had +been Governor of Sierra Leone for five years. + +His success that night at dinner on the yacht was far better. The others +seemed a little tired after the hours of sight-seeing to which he had +treated them, and they were content to listen. In the absence of Mr. +Clarges, who knew them word by word, he felt free to tell his three +stories of life at Sierra Leone. He took his time in the telling, and +could congratulate himself that his efforts had never been more keenly +appreciated. He felt that he was holding his own. + +The night was still and warm, and while the men lingered below at the +table, the two women mounted to the deck and watched the lights of +the town as they vanished one by one and left the moon in unchallenged +possession of the harbor. For a long time Miss Cameron stood silent, +looking out across the bay at the shore and the hills beyond. A fish +splashed near them, and the sound of oars rose from the mist that +floated above the water, until they were muffled in the distance. The +palms along the shore glistened like silver, and overhead the Southern +Cross shone white against a sky of purple. The silence deepened and +continued for so long a time that Mrs. Collier felt its significance, +and waited for the girl to end it. + +Miss Cameron raised her eyes to the stars and frowned. “I am not +surprised that he is content to stay here,” she said. “Are you? It is so +beautiful, so wonderfully beautiful.” + +For a moment Mrs. Collier made no answer. “Two years is a long time, +Florence,” she said; “and he is all I have; he is not only my only +brother, he is the only living soul who is related to me. That makes +it harder.” + +The girl seemed to find some implied reproach in the speech, for she +turned and looked at her friend closely. “Do you feel it is my fault, +Alice?” she asked. + +The older woman shook her head. “How could it be your fault?” she +answered. “If you couldn’t love him enough to marry him, you couldn’t, +that’s all. But that is no reason why he should have hidden himself from +all of us. Even if he could not stand being near you, caring as he did, +he need not have treated me so. We have done all we can do, and Robert +has been more than fine about it. He and his agents have written to +every consul and business house in Central America, and I don’t believe +there is a city that he hasn’t visited. He has sent him money and +letters to every bank and to every post-office--” + +The girl raised her head quickly. + +“--but he never calls for either,” Mrs. Collier continued, “for I know +that if he had read my letters he would have come home.” + +The girl lifted her head as though she were about to speak, and then +turned and walked slowly away. After a few moments she returned, and +stood, with her hands resting on the rail, looking down into the water. +“I wrote him two letters,” she said. In the silence of the night her +voice was unusually clear and distinct. “I--you make me wonder--if they +ever reached him.” + +Mrs. Collier, with her eyes fixed upon the girl, rose slowly from her +chair and came towards her. She reached out her hand and touched Miss +Cameron on the arm. + +“Florence,” she said, in a whisper, “have you--” + +The girl raised her head slowly, and lowered it again. “Yes,” she +answered; “I told him to come back--to come back to me. Alice,” she +cried, “I--I begged him to come back!” She tossed her hands apart and +again walked rapidly away, leaving the older woman standing motionless. + +A moment later, when Sir Charles and Mr. Collier stepped out upon the +deck, they discovered the two women standing close together, two white, +ghostly figures in the moonlight, and as they advanced towards them they +saw Mrs. Collier take the girl for an instant in her arms. + +Sir Charles was asking Miss Cameron how long she thought an immigrant +should be made to work for his freehold allotment, when Mr. Collier and +his wife rose at the same moment and departed on separate errands. They +met most mysteriously in the shadow of the wheel-house. + +“What is it? Is anything wrong with Florence?” Collier asked, anxiously. +“Not homesick, is she?” + +Mrs. Collier put her hands on her husband’s shoulders and shook her +head. + +“Wrong? No, thank Heaven! it’s as right as right can be!” she cried. +“She’s written to him to come back, but he’s never answered, and so--and +now it’s all right.” + +Mr. Collier gazed blankly at his wife’s upturned face. “Well, I don’t +see that,” he remonstrated. “What’s the use of her being in love with +him now when he can’t be found? What? Why didn’t she love him two years +ago when he was where you could get at him--at her house, for instance. +He was there most of his time. She would have saved a lot of trouble. +However,” he added, energetically, “this makes it absolutely necessary +to find that young man and bring him to his senses. We’ll search this +place for the next few days, and then we’ll try the mainland again. I +think I’ll offer a reward for him, and have it printed in Spanish, and +paste it up in all the plazas. We might add a line in English, ‘She has +changed her mind.’ That would bring him home, wouldn’t it?” + +“Don’t be unfeeling, Robert,” said Mrs. Collier. + +Her husband raised his eyes appealingly, and addressed himself to the +moon. “I ask you now,” he complained, “is that fair to a man who +has spent six months on muleback trying to round up a prodigal +brother-in-law?” + +That same evening, after the ladies had gone below, Mr. Collier asked +Sir Charles to assist him in his search for his wife’s brother, and +Sir Charles heartily promised his most active co-operation. There were +several Americans at work in the interior, he said, as overseers on +the coffee-plantations. It was possible that the runaway might be among +them. It was only that morning, Sir Charles remembered, that an American +had been at work “repairing his lawn-mower,” as he considerately +expressed it. He would send for him on the morrow. + +But on the morrow the slave of the lawn-mower was reported on the list +of prisoners as “missing,” and Corporal Mallon was grieved, but refused +to consider himself responsible. Sir Charles himself had allowed the +vagrant unusual freedom, and the vagrant had taken advantage of it, and +probably escaped to the hills, or up the river to the logwood camp. + +“Telegraph a description of him to Inspector Garrett,” Sir Charles +directed, “and to the heads of all up stations. And when he returns, +bring him to me.” + +So great was his zeal that Sir Charles further offered to join Mr. +Collier in his search among the outlying plantations; but Mr. Collier +preferred to work alone. He accordingly set out at once, armed with +letters to the different district inspectors, and in his absence +delegated to Sir Charles the pleasant duty of caring for the wants of +Miss Cameron and his wife. Sir Charles regarded the latter as deserving +of all sympathy, for Mr. Collier, in his efforts to conceal the fact +from the Governor that Florence Cameron was responsible, or in any +way concerned, in the disappearance of the missing man, had been too +mysterious. Sir Charles was convinced that the fugitive had swindled his +brother-in-law and stolen his sister’s jewels. + +The days which followed were to the Governor days and nights of strange +discoveries. He recognized that the missionaries from the great outside +world had invaded his shores and disturbed his gods and temples. Their +religion of progress and activity filled him with doubt and unrest. + +“In this century,” Mr. Collier had declared, “nothing can stand still. +It’s the same with a corporation, or a country, or a man. We must either +march ahead or fall out. We can’t mark time. What?” + +“Exactly--certainly not,” Sir Charles had answered. But in his heart +he knew that he himself had been marking time under these soft tropical +skies while the world was pushing forward. The thought had not disturbed +him before. Now he felt guilty. He conceived a sudden intolerance, if +not contempt, for the little village of whitewashed houses, for the +rafts of mahogany and of logwood that bumped against the pier-heads, for +the sacks of coffee piled high like barricades under the corrugated zinc +sheds along the wharf. Each season it had been his pride to note the +increase in these exports. The development of the resources of his +colony had been a work in which he had felt that the Colonial Secretary +took an immediate interest. He had believed that he was one of the +important wheels of the machinery which moved the British Empire: and +now, in a day, he was undeceived. It was forced upon him that to the +eyes of the outside world he was only a greengrocer operating on a large +scale; he provided the British public with coffee for its breakfast, +with drugs for its stomach, and with strange woods for its +dining-room furniture and walking-sticks. He combated this ignominious +characterization of his position indignantly. The new arrivals certainly +gave him no hint that they considered him so lightly. This thought +greatly comforted him, for he felt that in some way he was summoning +to his aid all of his assets and resources to meet an expert and final +valuation. As he ranged them before him he was disturbed and happy to +find that the value he placed upon them was the value they would have +in the eyes of a young girl--not a girl of the shy, mother-obeying, +man-worshipping English type, but a girl such as Miss Cameron seemed to +be, a girl who could understand what you were trying to say before you +said it, who could take an interest in rates of exchange and preside +at a dinner table, who was charmingly feminine and clever, and who was +respectful of herself and of others. In fact, he decided, with a flush, +that Miss Cameron herself was the young girl he had in his mind. + +“Why not?” he asked. + +The question came to him in his room, the sixth night of their visit, +and he strode over to the long pier-glass and stood studying himself +critically for the first time in years. He was still a fine-looking, +well-kept man. His hair was thin, but that fact did not show; and his +waist was lost, but riding and tennis would set that right. He had means +outside of his official salary, and there was the title, such as it was. +Lady Greville the wife of the birthday knight sounded as well as Lady +Greville the marchioness. And Americans cared for these things. He +doubted whether this particular American would do so, but he was adding +up all he had to offer, and that was one of the assets. He was sure +she would not be content to remain mistress of the Windless Isles. Nor, +indeed, did he longer care to be master there, now that he had inhaled +this quick, stirring breath from the outer world. He would resign, and +return and mix with the world again. He would enter Parliament; a man +so well acquainted as himself with the Gold Coast of Africa and with +the trade of the West Indies must always be of value in the Lower House. +This value would be recognized, no doubt, and he would become at +first an Under-Secretary for the Colonies, and then, in time, Colonial +Secretary and a cabinet minister. She would like that, he thought. And +after that place had been reached, all things were possible. For years +he had not dreamed such dreams--not since he had been a clerk in the +Foreign Office. They seemed just as possible now as they had seemed real +then, and just as near. He felt it was all absolutely in his own hands. + +He descended to the dining-room with the air of a man who already felt +the cares of high responsibility upon his shoulders. His head was erect +and his chest thrown forward. He was ten years younger; his manner was +alert, assured, and gracious. As he passed through the halls he was +impatient of the familiar settings of Government House; they seemed +to him like the furnishings of a hotel where he had paid his bill, and +where his luggage was lying strapped for departure in the hallway. + +In his library he saw on his table a number of papers lying open waiting +for his signature, the dog-tax among the others. He smiled to remember +how important it had seemed to him in the past--in that past of +indolence and easy content. Now he was on fire to put this rekindled +ambition to work, to tell the woman who had lighted it that it was all +from her and for her, that without her he had existed, that now he had +begun to live. + +They had never found him so delighful{sic} as he appeared that night. +He was like a man on the eve of a holiday. He made a jest of his past +efforts; he made them see, as he now saw it for the first time, that +side of the life of the Windless Isles which was narrow and petty, +even ridiculous. He talked of big men in a big way; he criticised, and +expounded, and advanced his own theories of government and the proper +control of an empire. + +Collier, who had returned from his unsuccessful search of the +plantations, shook his head. + +“It’s a pity you are not in London now,” he said, sincerely. “They need +some one there who has been on the spot. They can’t direct the colonies +from what they know of them in Whitehall.” + +Sir Charles fingered the dinner cloth nervously, and when he spoke, +fixed his eyes anxiously upon Miss Cameron. + +“Do you know,” he said, “I have been thinking of doing that very thing, +of resigning my post here and going back, entering Parliament, and all +the rest of it.” + +His declaration met with a unanimous chorus of delight. Miss Cameron +nodded her head with eager approval. + +“Yes, if I were a man, that is where I should wish to be,” she said, “at +the heart of it. Why, whatever you say in the House of Commons is heard +all over the world the next morning.” + +Sir Charles felt the blood tingle in his pulses. He had not been so +stirred in years. Her words ran to his head like wine. + +Mr. Collier raised his glass. + +“Here’s to our next meeting,” he said, “on the terrace of the House of +Commons.” + +But Miss Cameron interrupted. “No; to the Colonial Secretary,” she +amended. + +“Oh yes,” they assented, rising, and so drank his health, smiling down +upon him with kind, friendly glances and good-will. + +“To the Colonial Secretary,” they said. Sir Charles clasped the arms +of his chair tightly with his hands; his eyes were half closed, and his +lips pressed into a grim, confident smile. He felt that a single word +from her would make all that they suggested possible. If she cared for +such things, they were hers; he had them to give; they were ready lying +at her feet. He knew that the power had always been with him, lying +dormant in his heart and brain. It had only waited for the touch of the +Princess to wake it into life. + +The American visitors were to sail for the mainland the next day, but he +had come to know them so well in the brief period of their visit that he +felt he dared speak to her that same night. At least he could give +her some word that would keep him in her mind until they met again in +London, or until she had considered her answer. He could not expect her +to answer at once. She could take much time. What else had he to do now +but to wait for her answer? It was now all that made life. + +Collier and his wife had left the veranda and had crossed the lawn +towards the water’s edge. The moonlight fell full upon them with all the +splendor of the tropics, and lit the night with a brilliant, dazzling +radiance. From where Miss Cameron sat on the veranda in the shadow, Sir +Charles could see only the white outline of her figure and the indolent +movement of her fan. Collier had left his wife and was returning slowly +towards the step. Sir Charles felt that if he meant to speak he must +speak now, and quickly. He rose and placed himself beside her in the +shadow, and the girl turned her head inquiringly and looked up at him. + +But on the instant the hush of the night was broken by a sharp +challenge, and the sound of men’s voices raised in anger; there was the +noise of a struggle on the gravel, and from the corner of the house the +two sentries came running, dragging between them a slight figure that +fought and wrestled to be free. + +Sir Charles exclaimed with indignant impatience, and turning, strode +quickly to the head of the steps. + +“What does this mean?” he demanded. “What are you doing with that man? +Why did you bring him here?” + +As the soldiers straightened to attention, their prisoner ceased to +struggle, and stood with his head bent on his chest. His sombrero was +pulled down low across his forehead. + +“He was crawling through the bushes, Sir Charles,” the soldier panted, +“watching that gentleman, sir,”--he nodded over his shoulder towards +Collier. “I challenged, and he jumped to run, and we collared him. He +resisted, Sir Charles.” + +The mind of the Governor was concerned with other matters than +trespassers. + +“Well, take him to the barracks, then,” he said. “Report to me in the +morning. That will do.” + +The prisoner wheeled eagerly, without further show of resistance, and +the soldiers closed in on him on either side. But as the three men moved +away together, their faces, which had been in shadow, were now turned +towards Mr. Collier, who was advancing leisurely, and with silent +footsteps, across the grass. He met them face to face, and as he did so +the prisoner sprang back and threw out his arms in front of him, with +the gesture of a man who entreats silence. Mr. Collier halted as though +struck to stone, and the two men confronted each other without moving. + +“Good God!” Mr. Collier whispered. + +He turned stiffly and slowly, as though in a trance, and beckoned to his +wife, who had followed him. + +“Alice!” he called. He stepped backwards towards her, and taking her +hand in one of his, drew her towards the prisoner. “Here he is!” he +said. + +They heard her cry “Henry!” with the fierceness of a call for help, +and saw her rush forward and stumble into the arms of the prisoner, and +their two heads were bent close together. + +Collier ran up the steps and explained breathlessly. + +“And now,” he gasped, in conclusion, “what’s to be done? What’s he +arrested for? Is it bailable? What?” + +“Good heavens!” exclaimed Sir Charles, miserably. “It is my fault +entirely. I assure you I had no idea. How could I? But I should have +known, I should have guessed it.” He dismissed the sentries with a +gesture. “That will do,” he said. “Return to your posts.” + +Mr. Collier laughed with relief. + +“Then it is not serious?” he asked. + +“He--he had no money, that was all,” exclaimed Sir Charles. “Serious? +Certainly not. Upon my word, I’m sorry--” + +The young man had released himself from his sister’s embrace, and was +coming towards them; and Sir Charles, eager to redeem himself, advanced +hurriedly to greet him. But the young man did not see him; he was +looking past him up the steps to where Miss Cameron stood in the shadow. + +Sir Charles hesitated and drew back. The young man stopped at the foot +of the steps, and stood with his head raised, staring up at the white +figure of the girl, who came slowly forward. + +It was forced upon Sir Charles that in spite of the fact that the young +man before them had but just then been rescued from arrest, that in +spite of his mean garments and ragged sandals, something about him--the +glamour that surrounds the prodigal, or possibly the moonlight--gave him +an air of great dignity and distinction. + +As Miss Cameron descended the stairs, Sir Charles recognized for the +first time that the young man was remarkably handsome, and he resented +it. It hurt him, as did also the prodigal’s youth and his assured +bearing. He felt a sudden sinking fear, a weakening of all his vital +forces, and he drew in his breath slowly and deeply. But no one noticed +him; they were looking at the tall figure of the prodigal, standing with +his hat at his hip and his head thrown back, holding the girl with his +eyes. + +Collier touched Sir Charles on the arm, and nodded his head towards the +library. “Come,” he whispered, “let us old people leave them together. +They’ve a good deal to say.” Sir Charles obeyed in silence, and crossing +the library to the great oak chair, seated himself and leaned wearily +on the table before him. He picked up one of the goose quills and began +separating it into little pieces. Mr. Collier was pacing up and down, +biting excitedly on the end of his cigar. “Well, this has certainly been +a great night,” he said. “And it is all due to you, Sir Charles--all due +to you. Yes, they have you to thank for it.” + +“They?” said Sir Charles. He knew that it had to come. He wanted the man +to strike quickly. + +“They? Yes--Florence Cameron and Henry,” Mr. Collier answered. “Henry +went away because she wouldn’t marry him. She didn’t care for him then, +but afterwards she cared. Now they’re reunited,--and so they’re happy; +and my wife is more than happy, and I won’t have to bother any more; and +it’s all right, and all through you.” + +“I am glad,” said Sir Charles. There was a long pause, which the men, +each deep in his own thoughts, did not notice. + +“You will be leaving now, I suppose?” Sir Charles asked. He was looking +down, examining the broken pen in his hand. + +Mr. Collier stopped in his walk and considered. “Yes, I suppose they +will want to get back,” he said. “I shall be sorry myself. And you? What +will you do?” + +Sir Charles started slightly. He had not yet thought what he would do. +His eyes wandered over the neglected work, which had accumulated on the +desk before him. Only an hour before he had thought of it as petty and +little, as something unworthy of his energy. Since that time what change +had taken place in him? + +For him everything had changed, he answered, but in him there had been +no change; and if this thing which the girl had brought into his life +had meant the best in life, it must always mean that. She had been an +inspiration; she must remain his spring of action. Was he a slave, he +asked himself, that he should rebel? Was he a boy, that he could turn +his love to aught but the best account? He must remember her not as the +woman who had crushed his spirit, but as she who had helped him, who had +lifted him up to something better and finer. He would make sacrifice in +her name; it would be in her name that he would rise to high places and +accomplish much good. + +She would not know this, but he would know. + +He rose and brushed the papers away from him with an impatient sweep of +the hand. + +“I shall follow out the plan of which I spoke at dinner,” he answered. +“I shall resign here, and return home and enter Parliament.” + +Mr. Collier laughed admiringly. “I love the way you English take your +share of public life,” he said, “the way you spend yourselves for your +country, and give your brains, your lives, everything you have--all for +the empire.” + +Through the open window Sir Charles saw Miss Cameron half hidden by the +vines of the veranda. The moonlight falling about her transformed her +into a figure which was ideal, mysterious, and elusive, like a woman in +a dream. He shook his head wearily. + +“For the empire?” he asked. + + + + +THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER + +A SKETCH CONTAINING THREE POINTS OF VIEW + +What the Poet Laureate wrote. + + “There are girls in the Gold Reef City + There are mothers and children too! + And they cry ‘Hurry up for pity!’ + So what can a brave man do? + + “I suppose we were wrong, were mad men, + Still I think at the Judgment Day, + When God sifts the good from the bad men, + There’ll be something more to say.” + +What more the Lord Chief Justice found to say. + +“In this case we know the immediate consequence of your crime. It has +been the loss of human life, it has been the disturbance of public +peace, it has been the creation of a certain sense of distrust of public +professions and of public faith.... The sentence of this Court therefore +is that, as to you, Leander Starr Jameson, you be confined for a period +of fifteen months without hard labor; that you, Sir John Willoughby, +have ten months’ imprisonment; and that you, etc., etc.” + +London Times, July 29th. + + +What the Hon. “Reggie” Blake thought about it. + +“H. M. HOLLOWAY PRISON, + +“July 28th. + +“I am going to keep a diary while I am in prison, that is, if they will +let me. I never kept one before because I hadn’t the time; when I was +home on leave there was too much going on to bother about it, and when +I was up country I always came back after a day’s riding so tired that I +was too sleepy to write anything. And now that I have the time, I won’t +have anything to write about. I fancy that more things happened to me +to-day than are likely to happen again for the next eight months, so I +will make this day take up as much room in the diary as it can. I am +writing this on the back of the paper the Warder uses for his official +reports, while he is hunting up cells to put us in. We came down on him +rather unexpectedly and he is nervous. + +“Of course, I had prepared myself for this after a fashion, but now I +see that somehow I never really did think I would be in here, and all +my friends outside, and everything going on just the same as though I +wasn’t alive somewhere. It’s like telling yourself that your horse can’t +possibly pull off a race, so that you won’t mind so much if he doesn’t, +but you always feel just as bad when he comes in a loser. A man can’t +fool himself into thinking one way when he is hoping the other. + +“But I am glad it is over, and settled. It was a great bore not knowing +your luck and having the thing hanging over your head every morning +when you woke up. Indeed it was quite a relief when the counsel got all +through arguing over those proclamations, and the Chief Justice summed +up, but I nearly went to sleep when I found he was going all over it +again to the jury. I didn’t understand about those proclamations myself +and I’ll lay a fiver the jury didn’t either. The Colonel said he didn’t. +I couldn’t keep my mind on what Russell was explaining about, and I +got to thinking how much old Justice Hawkins looked like the counsel in +‘Alice in Wonderland’ when they tried the knave of spades for stealing +the tarts. He had just the same sort of a beak and the same sort of a +wig, and I wondered why he had his wig powdered and the others didn’t. +Pollock’s wig had a hole in the top; you could see it when he bent over +to take notes. He was always taking notes. I don’t believe he understood +about those proclamations either; he never seemed to listen, anyway. + +“The Chief Justice certainly didn’t love us very much, that’s sure; and +he wasn’t going to let anybody else love us either. I felt quite the +Christian Martyr when Sir Edward was speaking in defence. He made it +sound as though we were all a lot of Adelphi heroes and ought to be +promoted and have medals, but when Lord Russell started in to read the +Riot Act at us I began to believe that hanging was too good for me. I’m +sure I never knew I was disturbing the peace of nations; it seems like +such a large order for a subaltern. + +“But the worst was when they made us stand up before all those people to +be sentenced. I must say I felt shaky about the knees then, not because +I was afraid of what was coming, but because it was the first time I +had ever been pointed out before people, and made to feel ashamed. And +having those girls there, too, looking at one. That wasn’t just fair to +us. It made me feel about ten years old, and I remembered how the Head +Master used to call me to his desk and say, ‘Blake Senior, two pages of +Horace and keep in bounds for a week.’ And then I heard our names and +the months, and my name and ‘eight months’ imprisonment,’ and there was +a bustle and murmur and the tipstaves cried, ‘Order in the Court,’ and +the Judges stood up and shook out their big red skirts as though they +were shaking off the contamination of our presence and rustled away, +and I sat down, wondering how long eight months was, and wishing they’d +given me as much as they gave Jameson. + +“They put us in a room together then, and our counsel said how sorry +they were, and shook hands, and went off to dinner and left us. I +thought they might have waited with us and been a little late for dinner +just that once; but no one waited except a lot of costers outside whom +we did not know. It was eight o’clock and still quite light when we came +out, and there was a line of four-wheelers and a hansom ready for us. +I’d been hoping they would take us out by the Strand entrance, just +because I’d like to have seen it again, but they marched us instead +through the main quadrangle--a beastly, gloomy courtyard that echoed, +and out, into Carey Street--such a dirty, gloomy street. The costers and +clerks set up a sort of a cheer when we came out, and one of them cried, +‘God bless you, sir,’ to the doctor, but I was sorry they cheered. It +seemed like kicking against the umpire’s decision. The Colonel and I got +into a hansom together and we trotted off into Chancery Lane and turned +into Holborn. Most of the shops were closed, and the streets looked +empty, but there was a lighted clock-face over Mooney’s public-house, +and the hands stood at a quarter past eight. I didn’t know where +Holloway was, and was hoping they would have to take us through some +decent streets to reach it; but we didn’t see a part of the city that +meant anything to me, or that I would choose to travel through again. + +“Neither of us talked, and I imagined that the people in the streets +knew we were going to prison, and I kept my eyes on the enamel card on +the back of the apron. I suppose I read, ‘Two-wheeled hackney carriage: +if hired and discharged within the four-mile limit, 1s.’ at least a +hundred times. I got more sensible after a bit, and when we had turned +into Gray’s Inn Road I looked up and saw a tram in front of us with +‘Holloway Road and King’s X,’ painted on the steps, and the Colonel saw +it about the same time I fancy, for we each looked at the other, and the +Colonel raised his eyebrows. It showed us that at least the cabman knew +where we were going. + +“‘They might have taken us for a turn through the West End first, I +think,’ the Colonel said. ‘I’d like to have had a look around, wouldn’t +you? This isn’t a cheerful neighborhood, is it?’ + +“There were a lot of children playing in St. Andrew’s Gardens, and a +crowd of them ran out just as we passed, shrieking and laughing over +nothing, the way kiddies do, and that was about the only pleasant sight +in the ride. I had quite a turn when we came to the New Hospital just +beyond, for I thought it was Holloway, and it came over me what eight +months in such a place meant. I believe if I hadn’t pulled myself up +sharp, I’d have jumped out into the street and run away. It didn’t last +more than a few seconds, but I don’t want any more like them. I was +afraid, afraid--there’s no use pretending it was anything else. I was in +a dumb, silly funk, and I turned sick inside and shook, as I have seen +a horse shake when he shies at nothing and sweats and trembles down his +sides. + +“During those few seconds it seemed to be more than I could stand; I +felt sure that I couldn’t do it--that I’d go mad if they tried to force +me. The idea was so terrible--of not being master over your own legs and +arms, to have your flesh and blood and what brains God gave you buried +alive in stone walls as though they were in a safe with a time-lock on +the door set for eight months ahead. There’s nothing to be afraid of in +a stone wall really, but it’s the idea of the thing--of not being free +to move about, especially to a chap that has always lived in the open as +I have, and has had men under him. It was no wonder I was in a funk for +a minute. I’ll bet a fiver the others were, too, if they’ll only own up +to it. I don’t mean for long, but just when the idea first laid hold of +them. Anyway, it was a good lesson to me, and if I catch myself thinking +of it again I’ll whistle, or talk to myself out loud and think of +something cheerful. And I don’t mean to be one of those chaps who spends +his time in jail counting the stones in his cell, or training spiders, +or measuring how many of his steps make a mile, for madness lies that +way. I mean to sit tight and think of all the good times I’ve had, and +go over them in my mind very slowly, so as to make them last longer and +remember who was there and what we said, and the jokes and all that; +I’ll go over house-parties I have been on, and the times I’ve had in the +Riviera, and scouting parties Dr. Jim led up country when we were taking +Matabele Land. + +“They say that if you’re good here they give you things to read after a +month or two, and then I can read up all those instructive books that a +fellow never does read until he’s laid up in bed. + +“But that’s crowding ahead a bit; I must keep to what happened to-day. +We struck York Road at the back of the Great Western Terminus, and I +half hoped we might see some chap we knew coming or going away: I would +like to have waved my hand to him. It would have been fun to have seen +his surprise the next morning when he read in the paper that he had +been bowing to jail-birds, and then I would like to have cheated the +tipstaves out of just one more friendly good-by. I wanted to say good-by +to somebody, but I really couldn’t feel sorry to see the last of any +one of those we passed in the streets--they were such a dirty, +unhappy-looking lot, and the railroad wall ran on forever apparently, +and we might have been in a foreign country for all we knew of it. There +were just sooty gray brick tenements and gas-works on one side, and +the railroad cutting on the other, and semaphores and telegraph wires +overhead, and smoke and grime everywhere, it looked exactly like the +sort of street that should lead to a prison, and it seemed a pity to +take a smart hansom and a good cob into it. + +“It was just a bit different from our last ride together--when we rode +through the night from Krugers-Dorp with hundreds of horses’ hoofs +pounding on the soft veldt behind us, and the carbines clanking against +the stirrups as they swung on the sling belts. We were being hunted +then, harassed on either side, scurrying for our lives like the Derby +Dog in a race-track when every one hoots him and no man steps out to +help--we were sick for sleep, sick for food, lashed by the rain, and we +knew that we were beaten; but we were free still, and under open skies +with the derricks of the Rand rising like gallows on our left, and +Johannesburg only fifteen miles away.” + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION AND THE UNICORN *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Lion and the Unicorn and Other Stories</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Richard Harding Davis</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January, 1999 [eBook #1620]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 5, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Charles Keller and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION AND THE UNICORN ***</div> + + <h1> + THE LION AND THE UNICORN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Richard Harding Davis + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IN MEMORY OF MANY HOT DAYS AND SOME HOT CORNERS + THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO + LT.-COL. ARTHUR H. LEE, R.A. + British Military Attache with the United States Army + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE LION AND THE UNICORN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> ON THE FEVER SHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE MAN WITH ONE TALENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE VAGRANT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE LION AND THE UNICORN + </h2> + <p> + Prentiss had a long lease on the house, and because it stood in Jermyn + Street the upper floors were, as a matter of course, turned into lodgings + for single gentlemen; and because Prentiss was a Florist to the Queen, he + placed a lion and unicorn over his flowershop, just in front of the middle + window on the first floor. By stretching a little, each of them could see + into the window just beyond him, and could hear all that was said inside; + and such things as they saw and heard during the reign of Captain + Carrington, who moved in at the same time they did! By day the table in + the centre of the room was covered with maps, and the Captain sat with a + box of pins, with different-colored flags wrapped around them, and amused + himself by sticking them in the maps and measuring the spaces in between, + swearing meanwhile to himself. It was a selfish amusement, but it appeared + to be the Captain’s only intellectual pursuit, for at night, the maps were + rolled up, and a green cloth was spread across the table, and there was + much company and popping of soda-bottles, and little heaps of gold and + silver were moved this way and that across the cloth. The smoke drifted + out of the open windows, and the laughter of the Captain’s guests rang out + loudly in the empty street, so that the policeman halted and raised his + eyes reprovingly to the lighted windows, and cabmen drew up beneath them + and lay in wait, dozing on their folded arms, for the Captain’s guests to + depart. The Lion and the Unicorn were rather ashamed of the scandal of it, + and they were glad when, one day, the Captain went away with his tin boxes + and gun-cases piled high on a four-wheeler. + </p> + <p> + Prentiss stood on the sidewalk and said: “I wish you good luck, sir.” And + the Captain said: “I’m coming back a Major, Prentiss.” But he never came + back. And one day—the Lion remembered the day very well, for on that + same day the newsboys ran up and down Jermyn Street shouting out the news + of “a ’orrible disaster” to the British arms. It was then that a young + lady came to the door in a hansom, and Prentiss went out to meet her and + led her upstairs. They heard him unlock the Captain’s door and say, “This + is his room, miss,” and after he had gone they watched her standing quite + still by the centre table. She stood there for a very long time looking + slowly about her, and then she took a photograph of the Captain from the + frame on the mantel and slipped it into her pocket, and when she went out + again her veil was down, and she was crying. She must have given Prentiss + as much as a sovereign, for he called her “Your ladyship,” which he never + did under a sovereign. + </p> + <p> + And she drove off, and they never saw her again either, nor could they + hear the address she gave the cabman. But it was somewhere up St. John’s + Wood way. + </p> + <p> + After that the rooms were empty for some months, and the Lion and the + Unicorn were forced to amuse themselves with the beautiful ladies and + smart-looking men who came to Prentiss to buy flowers and “buttonholes,” + and the little round baskets of strawberries, and even the peaches at + three shillings each, which looked so tempting as they lay in the window, + wrapped up in cotton-wool, like jewels of great price. + </p> + <p> + Then Philip Carroll, the American gentleman, came, and they heard Prentiss + telling him that those rooms had always let for five guineas a week, which + they knew was not true; but they also knew that in the economy of nations + there must always be a higher price for the rich American, or else why was + he given that strange accent, except to betray him into the hands of the + London shopkeeper, and the London cabby? + </p> + <p> + The American walked to the window toward the west, which was the window + nearest the Lion, and looked out into the graveyard of St. James’s Church, + that stretched between their street and Piccadilly. + </p> + <p> + “You’re lucky in having a bit of green to look out on,” he said to + Prentiss. “I’ll take these rooms—at five guineas. That’s more than + they’re worth, you know, but as I know it, too, your conscience needn’t + trouble you.” + </p> + <p> + Then his eyes fell on the Lion, and he nodded to him gravely. “How do you + do?” he said. “I’m coming to live with you for a little time. I have read + about you and your friends over there. It is a hazard of new fortunes with + me, your Majesty, so be kind to me, and if I win, I will put a new coat of + paint on your shield and gild you all over again.” + </p> + <p> + Prentiss smiled obsequiously at the American’s pleasantry, but the new + lodger only stared at him. + </p> + <p> + “He seemed a social gentleman,” said the Unicorn, that night, when the + Lion and he were talking it over. “Now the Captain, the whole time he was + here, never gave us so much as a look. This one says he has read of us.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” growled the Lion. “I hope Prentiss heard what he said of + our needing a new layer of gilt. It’s disgraceful. You can see that Lion + over Scarlett’s, the butcher, as far as Regent Street, and Scarlett is + only one of Salisbury’s creations. He received his Letters-Patent only two + years back. We date from Palmerston.” + </p> + <p> + The lodger came up the street just at that moment, and stopped and looked + up at the Lion and the Unicorn from the sidewalk, before he opened the + door with his night-key. They heard him enter the room and feel on the + mantel for his pipe, and a moment later he appeared at the Lion’s window + and leaned on the sill, looking down into the street below and blowing + whiffs of smoke up into the warm night-air. + </p> + <p> + It was a night in June, and the pavements were dry under foot and the + streets were filled with well-dressed people, going home from the play, + and with groups of men in black and white, making their way to supper at + the clubs. Hansoms of inky-black, with shining lamps inside and out, + dashed noiselessly past on mysterious errands, chasing close on each + other’s heels on a mad race, each to its separate goal. From the cross + streets rose the noises of early night, the rumble of the ’buses, the + creaking of their brakes, as they unlocked, the cries of the “extras,” and + the merging of thousands of human voices in a dull murmur. The great world + of London was closing its shutters for the night, and putting out the + lights; and the new lodger from across the sea listened to it with his + heart beating quickly, and laughed to stifle the touch of fear and + homesickness that rose in him. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen a great play to-night,” he said to the Lion, “nobly played by + great players. What will they care for my poor wares? I see that I have + been over-bold. But we cannot go back now—not yet.” + </p> + <p> + He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and nodded “good-night” to the great + world beyond his window. “What fortunes lie with ye, ye lights of London + town?” he quoted, smiling. And they heard him close the door of his + bedroom, and lock it for the night. + </p> + <p> + The next morning he bought many geraniums from Prentiss and placed them + along the broad cornice that stretched across the front of the house over + the shop window. The flowers made a band of scarlet on either side of the + Lion as brilliant as a Tommy’s jacket. + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to propitiate the British Lion by placing flowers before his + altar,” the American said that morning to a visitor. + </p> + <p> + “The British public you mean,” said the visitor; “they are each likely to + tear you to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have heard that the pit on the first night of a bad play is + something awful,” hazarded the American. + </p> + <p> + “Wait and see,” said the visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said the American, meekly. + </p> + <p> + Every one who came to the first floor front talked about a play. It seemed + to be something of great moment to the American. It was only a bundle of + leaves printed in red and black inks and bound in brown paper covers. + There were two of them, and the American called them by different names: + one was his comedy and one was his tragedy. + </p> + <p> + “They are both likely to be tragedies,” the Lion heard one of the visitors + say to another, as they drove away together. “Our young friend takes it + too seriously.” + </p> + <p> + The American spent most of his time by his desk at the window writing on + little blue pads and tearing up what he wrote, or in reading over one of + the plays to himself in a loud voice. In time the number of his visitors + increased, and to some of these he would read his play; and after they had + left him he was either depressed and silent or excited and jubilant. The + Lion could always tell when he was happy because then he would go to the + side table and pour himself out a drink and say, “Here’s to me,” but when + he was depressed he would stand holding the glass in his hand, and finally + pour the liquor back into the bottle again and say, “What’s the use of + that?” + </p> + <p> + After he had been in London a month he wrote less and was more frequently + abroad, sallying forth in beautiful raiment, and coming home by daylight. + </p> + <p> + And he gave suppers too, but they were less noisy than the Captain’s had + been, and the women who came to them were much more beautiful, and their + voices when they spoke were sweet and low. Sometimes one of the women + sang, and the men sat in silence while the people in the street below + stopped to listen, and would say, “Why, that is So-and-So singing,” and + the Lion and the Unicorn wondered how they could know who it was when they + could not see her. + </p> + <p> + The lodger’s visitors came to see him at all hours. They seemed to regard + his rooms as a club, where they could always come for a bite to eat or to + write notes; and others treated it like a lawyer’s office and asked advice + on all manner of strange subjects. Sometimes the visitor wanted to know + whether the American thought she ought to take £10 a week and go on tour, + or stay in town and try to live on £8; or whether she should paint + landscapes that would not sell, or racehorses that would; or whether + Reggie really loved her and whether she really loved Reggie; or whether + the new part in the piece at the Court was better than the old part at + Terry’s, and wasn’t she getting too old to play “ingenues” anyway. + </p> + <p> + The lodger seemed to be a general adviser, and smoked and listened with + grave consideration, and the Unicorn thought his judgment was most + sympathetic and sensible. + </p> + <p> + Of all the beautiful ladies who came to call on the lodger the one the + Unicorn liked the best was the one who wanted to know whether she loved + Reggie and whether Reggie loved her. She discussed this so interestingly + while she consumed tea and thin slices of bread that the Unicorn almost + lost his balance in leaning forward to listen. Her name was Marion + Cavendish and it was written over many photographs which stood in silver + frames in the lodger’s rooms. She used to make the tea herself, while the + lodger sat and smoked; and she had a fascinating way of doubling the thin + slices of bread into long strips and nibbling at them like a mouse at a + piece of cheese. She had wonderful little teeth and Cupid’s-bow lips, and + she had a fashion of lifting her veil only high enough for one to see the + two Cupid-bow lips. When she did that the American used to laugh, at + nothing apparently, and say, “Oh, I guess Reggie loves you well enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But do I love Reggie?” she would ask sadly, with her tea-cup held poised + in air. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I hope not,” the lodger would reply, and she would put down the + veil quickly, as one would drop a curtain over a beautiful picture, and + rise with great dignity and say, “if you talk like that I shall not come + again.” + </p> + <p> + She was sure that if she could only get some work to do her head would be + filled with more important matters than whether Reggie loved her or not. + </p> + <p> + “But the managers seem inclined to cut their cavendish very fine just at + present,” she said. “If I don’t get a part soon,” she announced, “I shall + ask Mitchell to put me down on the list for recitations at evening + parties.” + </p> + <p> + “That seems a desperate revenge,” said the American; “and besides, I don’t + want you to get a part, because some one might be idiotic enough to take + my comedy, and if he should, you must play Nancy.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not ask for any salary if I could play Nancy,” Miss Cavendish + answered. + </p> + <p> + They spoke of a great many things, but their talk always ended by her + saying that there must be some one with sufficient sense to see that his + play was a great play, and by his saying that none but she must play + Nancy. + </p> + <p> + The Lion preferred the tall girl with masses and folds of brown hair, who + came from America to paint miniatures of the British aristocracy. Her name + was Helen Cabot, and he liked her because she was so brave and fearless, + and so determined to be independent of every one, even of the lodger—especially + of the lodger, who it appeared had known her very well at home. The + lodger, they gathered, did not wish her to be independent of him and the + two Americans had many arguments and disputes about it, but she always + said, “It does no good, Philip; it only hurts us both when you talk so. I + care for nothing, and for no one but my art, and, poor as it is, it means + everything to me, and you do not, and, of course, the man I am to marry, + must.” Then Carroll would talk, walking up and down, and looking very + fierce and determined, and telling her how he loved her in such a way that + it made her look even more proud and beautiful. And she would say more + gently, “It is very fine to think that any one can care for like that, and + very helpful. But unless I cared in the same way it would be wicked of me + to marry you, and besides—” She would add very quickly to prevent + his speaking again—“I don’t want to marry you or anybody, and I + never shall. I want to be free and to succeed in my work, just as you want + to succeed in your work. So please never speak of this again.” When she + went away the lodger used to sit smoking in the big arm-chair and beat the + arms with his hands, and he would pace up and down the room while his work + would lie untouched and his engagements pass forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Summer came and London was deserted, dull, and dusty, but the lodger + stayed on in Jermyn Street. Helen Cabot had departed on a round of visits + to country houses in Scotland, where, as she wrote him, she was painting + miniatures of her hosts and studying the game of golf. Miss Cavendish + divided her days between the river and one of the West End theatres. She + was playing a small part in a farce-comedy. + </p> + <p> + One day she came up from Cookham earlier than usual, looking very + beautiful in a white boating frock and a straw hat with a Leander ribbon. + Her hands and arms were hard with dragging a punting pole and she was + sunburnt and happy, and hungry for tea. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you come down to Cookham and get out of this heat?” Miss + Cavendish asked. “You need it; you look ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d like to, but I can’t,” said Carroll. “The fact is, I paid in advance + for these rooms, and if I lived anywhere else I’d be losing five guineas a + week on them.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Cavendish regarded him severely. She had never quite mastered his + American humor. + </p> + <p> + “But five guineas—why that’s nothing to you,” she said. Something in + the lodger’s face made her pause. “You don’t mean——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” said the lodger, smiling. “You see, I started in to lay siege + to London without sufficient ammunition. London is a large town, and it + didn’t fall as quickly as I thought it would. So I am economizing. Mr. + Lockhart’s Coffee Rooms and I are no longer strangers.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Cavendish put down her cup of tea untasted and leaned toward him + </p> + <p> + “Are you in earnest?” she asked. “For how long?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for the last month,” replied the lodger; “they are not at all bad—clean + and wholesome and all that.” + </p> + <p> + “But the suppers you gave us, and this,” she cried, suddenly, waving her + hands over the pretty tea-things, “and the cake and muffins?” + </p> + <p> + “My friends, at least,” said Carroll, “need not go to Lockhart’s.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Savoy?” asked Miss Cavendish, mournfully shaking her head. + </p> + <p> + “A dream of the past,” said Carroll, waving his pipe through the smoke. + “Gatti’s? Yes, on special occasions; but for necessity, the Chancellor’s, + where one gets a piece of the prime roast beef of Old England, from + Chicago, and potatoes for ninepence—a pot of bitter + twopence-halfpenny, and a penny for the waiter. It’s most amusing on the + whole. I am learning a little about London, and some things about myself. + They are both most interesting subjects.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t like it,” Miss Cavendish declared helplessly. “When I think + of those suppers and the flowers, I feel—I feel like a robber.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t,” begged Carroll. “I am really the most happy of men—that is, + as the chap says in the play, I would be if I wasn’t so damned miserable. + But I owe no man a penny and I have assets—I have £80 to last me + through the winter and two marvellous plays; and I love, next to yourself, + the most wonderful woman God ever made. That’s enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought you made such a lot of money by writing?” asked Miss + Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “I do—that is, I could,” answered Carroll, “if I wrote the things + that sell; but I keep on writing plays that won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “And such plays!” exclaimed Marion, warmly; “and to think that they are + going begging.” She continued indignantly, “I can’t imagine what the + managers do want.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what they don’t want,” said the American. Miss Cavendish drummed + impatiently on the tea-tray. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you wouldn’t be so abject about it,” she said. “If I were a man + I’d make them take those plays.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” asked the American; “with a gun?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’d keep at it until they read them,” declared Marion. “I’d sit on + their front steps all night and I’d follow them in cabs, and I’d lie in + wait for them at the stage-door. I’d just make them take them.” + </p> + <p> + Carroll sighed and stared at the ceiling. “I guess I’ll give up and go + home,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, do, run away before you are beaten,” said Miss Cavendish, + scornfully. “Why, you can’t go now. Everybody will be back in town soon, + and there are a lot of new plays coming on, and some of them are sure to + be failures, and that’s our chance. You rush in with your piece and + somebody may take it sooner than close the theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m thinking of closing the theatre myself,” said Carroll. “What’s the + use of my hanging on here?” he exclaimed. “It distresses Helen to know I + am in London, feeling about her as I do—and the Lord only knows how + it distresses me. And, maybe, if I went away,” he said, consciously, “she + might miss me. She might see the difference.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Cavendish held herself erect and pressed her lips together with a + severe smile. “If Helen Cabot doesn’t see the difference between you and + the other men she knows now,” she said, “I doubt if she ever will. Besides—” + she continued, and then hesitated. “Well, go on,” urged Carroll. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was only going to say,” she explained, “that leaving the girl + alone never did the man any good unless he left her alone willingly. If + she’s sure he still cares, it’s just the same to her where he is. He might + as well stay on in London as go to South Africa. It won’t help him any. + The difference comes when she finds he has stopped caring. Why, look at + Reggie. He tried that. He went away for ever so long, but he kept writing + me from wherever he went, so that he was perfectly miserable—and I + went on enjoying myself. Then when he came back, he tried going about with + his old friends again. He used to come to the theatre with them—oh, + with such nice girls—but he always stood in the back of the box and + yawned and scowled—so I knew. And, anyway, he’d always spoil it all + by leaving them and waiting at the stage entrance for me. But one day he + got tired of the way I treated him and went off on a bicycle tour with + Lady Hacksher’s girls and some men from his regiment, and he was gone + three weeks and never sent me even a line; and I got so scared; I couldn’t + sleep, and I stood it for three days more, and then I wired him to come + back or I’d jump off London Bridge; and he came back that very night from + Edinburgh on the express, and I was so glad to see him that I got + confused, and in the general excitement I promised to marry him, so that’s + how it was with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the American, without enthusiasm; “but then I still care, and + Helen knows I care.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn’t she ever fancy that you might care for some one else? You have a + lot of friends, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but she knows they are just that—friends,” said the American. + </p> + <p> + Miss Cavendish stood up to go, and arranged her veil before the mirror + above the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “I come here very often to tea,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very kind of you,” said Carroll. He was at the open window, looking + down into the street for a cab. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no one knows I am engaged to Reggie,” continued Miss Cavendish, + “except you and Reggie, and he isn’t so sure. SHE doesn’t know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Carroll. + </p> + <p> + Miss Cavendish smiled a mischievous kindly smile at him from the mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she repeated, mockingly. Carroll stared at her and laughed. After + a pause he said: “It’s like a plot in a comedy. But I’m afraid I’m too + serious for play-acting.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is serious,” said Miss Cavendish. She seated herself again and + regarded the American thoughtfully. “You are too good a man to be treated + the way that girl is treating you, and no one knows it better than she + does. She’ll change in time, but just now she thinks she wants to be + independent. She’s in love with this picture-painting idea, and with the + people she meets. It’s all new to her—the fuss they make over her + and the titles, and the way she is asked about. We know she can’t paint. + We know they only give her commissions because she’s so young and pretty, + and American. She amuses them, that’s all. Well, that cannot last; she’ll + find it out. She’s too clever a girl, and she is too fine a girl to be + content with that long. Then—then she’ll come back to you. She feels + now that she has both you and the others, and she’s making you wait: so + wait and be cheerful. She’s worth waiting for; she’s young, that’s all. + She’ll see the difference in time. But, in the meanwhile, it would hurry + matters a bit if she thought she had to choose between the new friends and + you.” + </p> + <p> + “She could still keep her friends, and marry me,” said Carroll; “I have + told her that a hundred times. She could still paint miniatures and marry + me. But she won’t marry me.” + </p> + <p> + “She won’t marry you because she knows she can whenever she wants to;” + cried Marion. “Can’t you see that? But if she thought you were going to + marry some one else now?” + </p> + <p> + “She would be the first to congratulate me,” said Carroll. He rose and + walked to the fireplace, where he leaned with his arm on the mantel. There + was a photograph of Helen Cabot near his hand, and he turned this toward + him and stood for some time staring at it. “My dear Marion,” he said at + last, “I’ve known Helen ever since she was as young as that. Every year + I’ve loved her more, and found new things in her to care for; now I love + her more than any other man ever loved any other woman.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Cavendish shook her head sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” she said; “that’s the way Reggie loves me, too.” + </p> + <p> + Carroll went on as though he had not heard her. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a bench in St. James’s Park,” he said, “where we used to sit when + she first came here, when she didn’t know so many people. We used to go + there in the morning and throw penny buns to the ducks. That’s been my + amusement this summer since you’ve all been away—sitting on that + bench, feeding penny buns to the silly ducks—especially the black + one, the one she used to like best. And I make pilgrimages to all the + other places we ever visited together, and try to pretend she is with me. + And I support the crossing sweeper at Lansdowne Passage because she once + said she felt sorry for him. I do all the other absurd things that a man + in love tortures himself by doing. But to what end? She knows how I care, + and yet she won’t see why we can’t go on being friends as we once were. + What’s the use of it all?” + </p> + <p> + “She is young, I tell you,” repeated Miss Cavendish, “and she’s too sure + of you. You’ve told her you care; now try making her think you don’t + care.” + </p> + <p> + Carroll shook his head impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I will not stoop to such tricks and pretence, Marion,” he cried + impatiently. “All I have is my love for her; if I have to cheat and to + trap her into caring, the whole thing would be degraded.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Cavendish shrugged her shoulders and walked to the door. “Such + amateurs!” she exclaimed, and banged the door after her. + </p> + <p> + Carroll never quite knew how he had come to make a confidante of Miss + Cavendish. Helen and he had met her when they first arrived in London, and + as she had acted for a season in the United States, she adopted the two + Americans—and told Helen where to go for boots and hats, and advised + Carroll about placing his plays. Helen soon made other friends, and + deserted the artists, with whom her work had first thrown her. She seemed + to prefer the society of the people who bought her paintings, and who + admired and made much of the painter. As she was very beautiful and at an + age when she enjoyed everything in life keenly and eagerly, to give her + pleasure was in itself a distinct pleasure; and the worldly tired people + she met were considering their own entertainment quite as much as hers + when they asked her to their dinners and dances, or to spend a week with + them in the country. In her way, she was as independent as was Carroll in + his, and as she was not in love, as he was, her life was not narrowed down + to but one ideal. But she was not so young as to consider herself + infallible, and she had one excellent friend on whom she was dependent for + advice and to whose directions she submitted implicitly. This was Lady + Gower, the only person to whom Helen had spoken of Carroll and of his + great feeling for her. Lady Gower, immediately after her marriage, had + been a conspicuous and brilliant figure in that set in London which works + eighteen hours a day to keep itself amused, but after the death of her + husband she had disappeared into the country as completely as though she + had entered a convent, and after several years had then re-entered the + world as a professional philanthropist. Her name was now associated + entirely with Women’s Leagues, with committees that presented petitions to + Parliament, and with public meetings, at which she spoke with marvellous + ease and effect. Her old friends said she had taken up this new pose as an + outlet for her nervous energies, and as an effort to forget the man who + alone had made life serious to her. Others knew her as an earnest woman, + acting honestly for what she thought was right. Her success, all admitted, + was due to her knowledge of the world and to her sense of humor, which + taught her with whom to use her wealth and position, and when to demand + what she wanted solely on the ground that the cause was just. + </p> + <p> + She had taken more than a fancy for Helen, and the position of the + beautiful, motherless girl had appealed to her as one filled with dangers. + When she grew to know Helen better, she recognized that these fears were + quite unnecessary, and as she saw more of her she learned to care for her + deeply. Helen had told her much of Carroll and of his double purpose in + coming to London; of his brilliant work and his lack of success in having + it recognized; and of his great and loyal devotion to her, and of his lack + of success, not in having that recognized, but in her own inability to + return it. Helen was proud that she had been able to make Carroll care for + her as he did, and that there was anything about her which could inspire a + man whom she admired so much, to believe in her so absolutely and for so + long a time. But what convinced her that the outcome for which he hoped + was impossible, was the very fact that she could admire him, and see how + fine and unselfish his love for her was, and yet remain untouched by it. + </p> + <p> + She had been telling Lady Gower one day of the care he had taken of her + ever since she was fourteen years of age, and had quoted some of the + friendly and loverlike acts he had performed in her service, until one day + they had both found out that his attitude of the elder brother was no + longer possible, and that he loved her in the old and only way. Lady Gower + looked at her rather doubtfully and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would bring him to see me, Helen” she said; “I think I should + like your friend very much. From what you tell me of him I doubt if you + will find many such men waiting for you in this country. Our men marry for + reasons of property, or they love blindly, and are exacting and selfish + before and after they are married. I know, because so many women came to + me when my husband was alive to ask how it was that I continued so happy + in my married life.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t want to marry any one,” Helen remonstrated gently. “American + girls are not always thinking only of getting married.” + </p> + <p> + “What I meant was this,” said Lady Gower, “that, in my experience, I have + heard of but few men who care in the way this young man seems to care for + you. You say you do not love him; but if he had wanted to gain my + interest, he could not have pleaded his cause better than you have done. + He seems to see your faults and yet love you still, in spite of them—or + on account of them. And I like the things he does for you. I like, for + instance, his sending you the book of the moment every week for two years. + That shows a most unswerving spirit of devotion. And the story of the + broken bridge in the woods is a wonderful story. If I were a young girl, I + could love a man for that alone. It was a beautiful thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + Helen sat with her chin on her hands, deeply considering this new point of + view. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it very foolish of him,” she confessed questioningly, “to take + such a risk for such a little thing.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Gower smiled down at her from the height of her many years. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” she said dryly, “you are very young now—and very rich; every + one is crowding to give you pleasure, to show his admiration. You are a + very fortunate girl. But later, these things which some man has done + because he loved you, and which you call foolish, will grow large in your + life, and shine out strongly, and when you are discouraged and alone, you + will take them out, and the memory of them will make you proud and happy. + They are the honors which women wear in secret.” + </p> + <p> + Helen came back to town in September, and for the first few days was so + occupied in refurnishing her studio and in visiting the shops that she + neglected to send Carroll word of her return. When she found that a whole + week had passed without her having made any effort to see him, and + appreciated how the fact would hurt her friend, she was filled with + remorse, and drove at once in great haste to Jermyn Street, to announce + her return in person. On the way she decided that she would soften the + blow of her week of neglect by asking him to take her out to luncheon. + This privilege she had once or twice accorded him, and she felt that the + pleasure these excursions gave Carroll were worth the consternation they + caused to Lady Gower. + </p> + <p> + The servant was uncertain whether Mr. Carroll was at home or not, but + Helen was too intent upon making restitution to wait for the fact to be + determined, and, running up the stairs, knocked sharply at the door of his + study. + </p> + <p> + A voice bade her come in, and she entered, radiant and smiling her + welcome. But Carroll was not there to receive it, and instead, Marion + Cavendish looked up at her from his desk where she was busily writing. + Helen paused with a surprised laugh, but Marion sprang up and hailed her + gladly. They met half way across the room and kissed each other with the + most friendly feeling. + </p> + <p> + Philip was out, Marion said, and she had just stepped in for a moment to + write him a note. If Helen would excuse her, she would finish it, as she + was late for rehearsal. + </p> + <p> + But she asked over her shoulder, with great interest, if Helen had passed + a pleasant summer. She thought she had never seen her looking so well. + Helen thought Miss Cavendish herself was looking very well also, but + Marion said no; that she was too sunburnt, she would not be able to wear a + dinner-dress for a month. There was a pause while Marion’s quill scratched + violently across Carroll’s note-paper. Helen felt that in some way she was + being treated as an intruder; or worse, as a guest. She did not sit down, + it seemed impossible to do so, but she moved uncertainly about the room. + She noted that there were many changes, it seemed more bare and empty; her + picture was still on the writing-desk, but there were at least six new + photographs of Marion. Marion herself had brought them to the room that + morning, and had carefully arranged them in conspicuous places. But Helen + could not know that. She thought there was an unnecessary amount of + writing scribbled over the face of each. + </p> + <p> + Marion addressed her letter and wrote “Immediate” across the envelope, and + placed it before the clock on the mantelshelf. “You will find Philip + looking very badly,” she said, as she pulled on her gloves. “He has been + in town all summer, working very hard—he has had no holiday at all. + I don’t think he’s well. I have been a great deal worried about him,” she + added. Her face was bent over the buttons of her glove, and when she + raised her blue eyes to Helen they were filled with serious concern. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” Helen stammered, “I—I didn’t know—in his letters he + seemed very cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + Marion shook her head and turned and stood looking thoughtfully out of the + window. “He’s in a very hard place,” she began abruptly, and then stopped + as though she had thought better of what she intended to say. Helen tried + to ask her to go on, but could not bring herself to do so. She wanted to + get away. + </p> + <p> + “I tell him he ought to leave London,” Marion began again; “he needs a + change and a rest.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think he might,” Helen agreed, “after three months of this heat. + He wrote me he intended going to Herne Bay or over to Ostend.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he had meant to go,” Marion answered. She spoke with the air of one + who possessed the most intimate knowledge of Carroll’s movements and + plans, and change of plans. “But he couldn’t,” she added. “He couldn’t + afford it. Helen,” she said, turning to the other girl, dramatically, “do + you know—I believe that Philip is very poor.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Cabot exclaimed incredulously, “Poor!” She laughed. “Why, what do you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that he has no money,” Marion answered, sharply. “These rooms + represent nothing. He only keeps them on because he paid for them in + advance. He’s been living on three shillings a day. That’s poor for him. + He takes his meals at cabmen’s shelters and at Lockhart’s, and he’s been + doing so for a month.” + </p> + <p> + Helen recalled with a guilty thrill the receipt of certain boxes of La + France roses—cut long, in the American fashion—which had + arrived within the last month at various country houses. She felt + indignant at herself, and miserable. Her indignation was largely due to + the recollection that she had given these flowers to her hostess to + decorate the dinner-table. + </p> + <p> + She hated to ask this girl of things which she should have known better + than any one else. But she forced herself to do it. She felt she must know + certainly and at once. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know this?” she asked. “Are you sure there is no mistake?” + </p> + <p> + “He told me himself,” said Marion, “when he talked of letting the plays go + and returning to America. He said he must go back; that his money was + gone.” + </p> + <p> + “He is gone to America!” Helen said, blankly. + </p> + <p> + “No, he wanted to go, but I wouldn’t let him,” Marion went on. “I told him + that some one might take his play any day. And this third one he has + written, the one he finished this summer in town, is the best of all, I + think. It’s a love-story. It’s quite beautiful.” She turned and arranged + her veil at the glass, and as she did so, her eyes fell on the photographs + of herself scattered over the mantelpiece, and she smiled slightly. But + Helen did not see her—she was sitting down now, pulling at the books + on the table. She was confused and disturbed by emotions which were quite + strange to her, and when Marion bade her good-by she hardly noticed her + departure. What impressed her most of all in what Marion had told her, + was, she was surprised to find, that Philip was going away. That she + herself had frequently urged him to do so, for his own peace of mind, + seemed now of no consequence. Now that he seriously contemplated it, she + recognized that his absence meant to her a change in everything. She felt + for the first time the peculiar place he held in her life. Even if she had + seen him but seldom, the fact that he was within call had been more of a + comfort and a necessity to her than she understood. + </p> + <p> + That he was poor, concerned her chiefly because she knew that, although + this condition could only be but temporary, it would distress him not to + have his friends around him, and to entertain them as he had been used to + do. She wondered eagerly if she might offer to help him, but a second + thought assured her that, for a man, that sort of help from a woman was + impossible. + </p> + <p> + She resented the fact that Marion was deep in his confidence; that it was + Marion who had told her of his changed condition and of his plans. It + annoyed her so acutely that she could not remain in the room where she had + seen her so complacently in possession. And after leaving a brief note for + Philip, she went away. She stopped a hansom at the door, and told the man + to drive along the Embankment—she wanted to be quite alone, and she + felt she could see no one until she had thought it all out, and had + analyzed the new feelings. + </p> + <p> + So for several hours she drove slowly up and down, sunk far back in the + cushions of the cab, and staring with unseeing eyes at the white enamelled + tariff and the black dash-board. + </p> + <p> + She assured herself that she was not jealous of Marion, because, in order + to be jealous, she first would have to care for Philip in the very way she + could not bring herself to do. + </p> + <p> + She decided that his interest in Marion hurt her, because it showed that + Philip was not capable of remaining true to the one ideal of his life. She + was sure that this explained her feelings—she was disappointed that + he had not kept up to his own standard; that he was weak enough to turn + aside from it for the first pretty pair of eyes. But she was too honest + and too just to accept that diagnosis of her feelings as final—she + knew there had been many pairs of eyes in America and in London, and that + though Philip had seen them, he had not answered them when they spoke. No, + she confessed frankly, she was hurt with herself for neglecting her old + friend so selfishly and for so long a time; his love gave him claims on + her consideration, at least, and she had forgotten that and him, and had + run after strange gods and allowed others to come in and take her place, + and to give him the sympathy and help which she should have been the first + to offer, and which would have counted more when coming from her than from + any one else. She determined to make amends at once for her + thoughtlessness and selfishness, and her brain was pleasantly occupied + with plans and acts of kindness. It was a new entertainment, and she found + she delighted in it. She directed the cabman to go to Solomons’s, and from + there sent Philip a bunch of flowers and a line saying that on the + following day she was coming to take tea with him. She had a guilty + feeling that he might consider her friendly advances more seriously than + she meant them, but it was her pleasure to be reckless: her feelings were + running riotously, and the sensation was so new that she refused to be + circumspect or to consider consequences. Who could tell, she asked herself + with a quick, frightened gasp, but that, after all, it might be that she + was learning to care? From Solomons’s she bade the man drive to the shop + in Cranbourne Street where she was accustomed to purchase the materials + she used in painting, and Fate, which uses strange agents to work out its + ends, so directed it that the cabman stopped a few doors below this shop, + and opposite one where jewelry and other personal effects were bought and + sold. At any other time, or had she been in any other mood, what followed + might not have occurred, but Fate, in the person of the cabman, arranged + it so that the hour and the opportunity came together. + </p> + <p> + There were some old mezzotints in the window of the loan shop, a string of + coins and medals, a row of new French posters; and far down to the front a + tray filled with gold and silver cigarette-cases and watches and rings. It + occurred to Helen, who was still bent on making restitution for her + neglect, that a cigarette-case would be more appropriate for a man than + flowers, and more lasting. And she scanned the contents of the window with + the eye of one who now saw in everything only something which might give + Philip pleasure. The two objects of value in the tray upon which her eyes + first fell were the gold seal-ring with which Philip had sealed his + letters to her, and, lying next to it, his gold watch! There was something + almost human in the way the ring and watch spoke to her from the past—in + the way they appealed to her to rescue them from the surroundings to which + they had been abandoned. She did not know what she meant to do with them + nor how she could return them to Philip; but there was no question of + doubt in her manner as she swept with a rush into the shop. There was no + attempt, either, at bargaining in the way in which she pointed out to the + young woman behind the counter the particular ring and watch she wanted. + They had not been left as collateral, the young woman said; they had been + sold outright. + </p> + <p> + “Then any one can buy them?” Helen asked eagerly. “They are for sale to + the public—to any one?” + </p> + <p> + The young woman made note of the customer’s eagerness, but with an unmoved + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss, they are for sale. The ring is four pounds and the watch + twenty-five.” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-nine pounds!” Helen gasped. + </p> + <p> + That was more money than she had in the world, but the fact did not + distress her, for she had a true artistic disregard for ready money, and + the absence of it had never disturbed her. But now it assumed a sudden and + alarming value. She had ten pounds in her purse and ten pounds at her + studio—these were just enough to pay for a quarter’s rent and the + rates, and there was a hat and cloak in Bond Street which she certainly + must have. Her only assets consisted of the possibility that some one + might soon order a miniature, and to her mind that was sufficient. Some + one always had ordered a miniature, and there was no reasonable doubt but + that some one would do it again. For a moment she questioned if it would + not be sufficient if she bought the ring and allowed the watch to remain. + But she recognized that the ring meant more to her than the watch, while + the latter, as an old heirloom which had been passed down to him from a + great-grandfather, meant more to Philip. It was for Philip she was doing + this, she reminded herself. She stood holding his possessions, one in each + hand, and looking at the young woman blankly. She had no doubt in her mind + that at least part of the money he had received for them had paid for the + flowers he had sent to her in Scotland. The certainty of this left her no + choice. She laid the ring and watch down and pulled the only ring she + possessed from her own finger. It was a gift from Lady Gower. She had no + doubt that it was of great value. + </p> + <p> + “Can you lend me some money on that?” she asked. It was the first time she + had conducted a business transaction of this nature, and she felt as + though she were engaging in a burglary. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t lend money, miss,” the girl said, “we buy outright. I can give + you twenty-eight shillings for this,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-eight shillings,” Helen gasped; “why, it is worth—oh, ever + so much more than that!” + </p> + <p> + “That is all it is worth to us,” the girl answered. She regarded the ring + indifferently and laid it away from her on the counter. The action was + final. + </p> + <p> + Helen’s hands rose slowly to her breast, where a pretty watch dangled from + a bowknot of crushed diamonds. It was her only possession, and she was + very fond of it. It also was the gift of one of the several great ladies + who had adopted her since her residence in London. Helen had painted a + miniature of this particular great lady which had looked so beautiful that + the pleasure which the original of the portrait derived from the thought + that she still really looked as she did in the miniature was worth more to + her than many diamonds. + </p> + <p> + But it was different with Helen, and no one could count what it cost her + to tear away her one proud possession. + </p> + <p> + “What will you give me for this?” she asked defiantly. + </p> + <p> + The girl’s eyes showed greater interest. “I can give you twenty pounds for + that,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Take it, please,” Helen begged, as though she feared if she kept it a + moment longer she might not be able to make the sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + “That will be enough now,” she went on, taking out her ten-pound note. She + put Lady Gower’s ring back upon her finger and picked up Philip’s ring and + watch with the pleasure of one who has come into a great fortune. She + turned back at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she stammered, “in case any one should inquire, you are not to say + who bought these.” + </p> + <p> + “No, miss, certainly not,” said the woman. Helen gave the direction to the + cabman and, closing the doors of the hansom, sat looking down at the watch + and the ring, as they lay in her lap. The thought that they had been his + most valued possessions, which he had abandoned forever, and that they + were now entirely hers, to do with as she liked, filled her with most + intense delight and pleasure. She took up the heavy gold ring and placed + it on the little finger of her left hand; it was much too large, and she + removed it and balanced it for a moment doubtfully in the palm of her + right hand. She was smiling, and her face was lit with shy and tender + thoughts. She cast a quick glance to the left and right as though fearful + that people passing in the street would observe her, and then slipped the + ring over the fourth finger of her left hand. She gazed at it with a + guilty smile and then, covering it hastily with her other hand, leaned + back, clasping it closely, and sat frowning far out before her with + puzzled eyes. + </p> + <p> + To Carroll all roads led past Helen’s studio, and during the summer, while + she had been absent in Scotland it was one of his sad pleasures to make a + pilgrimage to her street and to pause opposite the house and look up at + the empty windows of her rooms. + </p> + <p> + It was during this daily exercise that he learned, through the arrival of + her luggage, of her return to London, and when day followed day without + her having shown any desire to see him or to tell him of her return he + denounced himself most bitterly as a fatuous fool. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the week he sat down and considered his case quite calmly. + For three years he had loved this girl, deeply and tenderly. He had been + lover, brother, friend, and guardian. During that time, even though she + had accepted him in every capacity except as that of the prospective + husband, she had never given him any real affection, nor sympathy, nor + help; all she had done for him had been done without her knowledge or + intent. To know her, to love her, and to scheme to give her pleasure had + been its own reward, and the only one. For the last few months he had been + living like a crossing-sweeper in order to be able to stay in London until + she came back to it, and that he might still send her the gifts he had + always laid on her altar. He had not seen her in three months. Three + months that had been to him a blank, except for his work—which like + all else that he did, was inspired and carried on for her. Now at last she + had returned and had shown that, even as a friend, he was of so little + account in her thoughts, of so little consequence in her life, that after + this long absence she had no desire to learn of his welfare or to see him—she + did not even give him the chance to see her. And so, placing these facts + before him for the first time since he had loved her, he considered what + was due to himself. “Was it good enough?” he asked. “Was it just that he + should continue to wear out his soul and body for this girl who did not + want what he had to give, who treated him less considerately than a man + whom she met for the first time at dinner?” He felt he had reached the + breaking-point; that the time had come when he must consider what he owed + to himself. There could never be any other woman save Helen, but as it was + not to be Helen, he could no longer, with self-respect, continue to + proffer his love only to see it slighted and neglected. He was humble + enough concerning himself, but of his love he was very proud. Other men + could give her more in wealth or position, but no one could ever love her + as he did. “He that hath more let him give,” he had often quoted to her + defiantly, as though he were challenging the world, and now he felt he + must evolve a make-shift world of his own—a world in which she was + not his only spring of acts; he must begin all over again and keep his + love secret and sacred until she understood it and wanted it. And if she + should never want it he would at least have saved it from many rebuffs and + insults. + </p> + <p> + With this determination strong in him, the note Helen had left for him + after her talk with Marion, and the flowers, and the note with them, + saying she was coming to take tea on the morrow, failed to move him except + to make him more bitter. He saw in them only a tardy recognition of her + neglect—an effort to make up to him for thoughtlessness which, from + her, hurt him worse than studied slight. + </p> + <p> + A new regime had begun, and he was determined to establish it firmly and + to make it impossible for himself to retreat from it; and in the note in + which he thanked Helen for the flowers and welcomed her to tea, he + declared his ultimatum. + </p> + <p> + “You know how terribly I feel,” he wrote; “I don’t have to tell you that, + but I cannot always go on dragging out my love and holding it up to excite + your pity as beggars show their sores. I cannot always go on praying + before your altar, cutting myself with knives and calling upon you to + listen to me. You know that there is no one else but you, and that there + never can be any one but you, and that nothing is changed except that + after this I am not going to urge and torment you. I shall wait as I have + always waited—only now I shall wait in silence. You know just how + little, in one way, I have to offer you, and you know just how much I have + in love to offer you. It is now for you to speak—some day, or never. + But you will have to speak first. You will never hear a word of love from + me again. Why should you? You know it is always waiting for you. But if + you should ever want it, you must come to me, and take off your hat and + put it on my table and say, ‘Philip, I have come to stay.’ Whether you can + ever do that or not can make no difference in my love for you. I shall + love you always, as no man has ever loved a woman in this world, but it is + you who must speak first; for me, the rest is silence.” + </p> + <p> + The following morning as Helen was leaving the house she found this letter + lying on the hall-table, and ran back with it to her rooms. A week before + she would have let it lie on the table and read it on her return. She was + conscious that this was what she would have done, and it pleased her to + find that what concerned Philip was now to her the thing of greatest + interest. She was pleased with her own eagerness—her own happiness + was a welcome sign, and she was proud and glad that she was learning to + care. + </p> + <p> + She read the letter with an anxious pride and pleasure in each word that + was entirely new. Philip’s recriminations did not hurt her, they were the + sign that he cared; nor did his determination not to speak of his love to + her hurt her, for she believed him when he said that he would always care. + She read the letter twice, and then sat for some time considering the kind + of letter Philip would have written had he known her secret—had he + known that the ring he had abandoned was now upon her finger. + </p> + <p> + She rose and, crossing to a desk, placed the letter in a drawer, and then + took it out again and re-read the last page. When she had finished it she + was smiling. For a moment she stood irresolute, and then, moving slowly + toward the centre-table, cast a guilty look about her and, raising her + hands, lifted her veil and half withdrew the pins that fastened her hat. + </p> + <p> + “Philip,” she began in a frightened whisper, “I have—I have come to—” + </p> + <p> + The sentence ended in a cry of protest, and she rushed across the room as + though she were running from herself. She was blushing violently. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” she cried, as she pulled open the door; “I could never do it—never!” + </p> + <p> + The following afternoon, when Helen was to come to tea, Carroll decided + that he would receive her with all the old friendliness, but that he must + be careful to subdue all emotion. + </p> + <p> + He was really deeply hurt at her treatment, and had it not been that she + came on her own invitation he would not of his own accord have sought to + see her. In consequence, he rather welcomed than otherwise the arrival of + Marion Cavendish, who came a half-hour before Helen was expected, and who + followed a hasty knock with a precipitate entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” she commanded breathlessly; “and listen. I’ve been at + rehearsal all day, or I’d have been here before you were awake.” She + seated herself nervously and nodded her head at Carroll in an excited and + mysterious manner. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked. “Have you and Reggie—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” Marion repeated, “our fortunes are made; that is what’s the + matter—and I’ve made them. If you took half the interest in your + work I do, you’d have made yours long ago. Last night,” she began + impressively, “I went to a large supper at the Savoy, and I sat next to + Charley Wimpole. He came in late, after everybody had finished, and I + attacked him while he was eating his supper. He said he had been + rehearsing ‘Caste’ after the performance; that they’ve put it on as a + stop-gap on account of the failure of the ‘Triflers,’ and that he knew + revivals were of no use; that he would give any sum for a good modern + comedy. That was my cue, and I told him I knew of a better comedy than any + he had produced at his theatre in five years, and that it was going + begging. He laughed, and asked where was he to find this wonderful comedy, + and I said, ‘It’s been in your safe for the last two months and you + haven’t read it.’ He said, ‘Indeed, how do you know that?’ and I said, + ‘Because if you’d read it, it wouldn’t be in your safe, but on your + stage.’ So he asked me what the play was about, and I told him the plot + and what sort of a part his was, and some of his scenes, and he began to + take notice. He forgot his supper, and very soon he grew so interested + that he turned his chair round and kept eying my supper-card to find out + who I was, and at last remembered seeing me in ‘The New Boy’—and a + rotten part it was, too—but he remembered it, and he told me to go + on and tell him more about your play. So I recited it, bit by bit, and he + laughed in all the right places and got very much excited, and said + finally that he would read it the first thing this morning.” Marion + paused, breathlessly. “Oh, yes, and he wrote your address on his cuff,” + she added, with the air of delivering a complete and convincing climax. + </p> + <p> + Carroll stared at her and pulled excitedly on his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Marion!” he gasped, “suppose he should? He won’t though,” he added, + but eying her eagerly and inviting contradiction. + </p> + <p> + “He will,” she answered, stoutly, “if he reads it.” + </p> + <p> + “The other managers read it,” Carroll suggested, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but what do they know?” Marion returned, loftily. “He knows. Charles + Wimpole is the only intelligent actor-manager in London.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sharp knock at the door, which Marion in her excitement had + left ajar, and Prentiss threw it wide open with an impressive sweep, as + though he were announcing royalty: “Mr. Charles Wimpole,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The actor-manager stopped in the doorway bowing gracefully, his hat held + before him and his hand on his stick as though it were resting on a foil. + He had the face and carriage of a gallant of the days of Congreve, and he + wore his modern frock-coat with as much distinction as if it were of silk + and lace. He was evidently amused. “I couldn’t help overhearing the last + line,” he said, smiling. “It gives me a good entrance.” + </p> + <p> + Marion gazed at him blankly: “Oh,” she gasped, “we—we—were + just talking about you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you hadn’t mentioned my name,” the actor said, “I should never have + guessed it. And this is Mr. Carroll, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + The great man was rather pleased with the situation. As he read it, it + struck him as possessing strong dramatic possibilities: Carroll was the + struggling author on the verge of starvation: Marion, his sweetheart, + flying to him gave him hope; and he was the good fairy arriving in the + nick of time to set everything right and to make the young people happy + and prosperous. He rather fancied himself in the part of the good fairy, + and as he seated himself he bowed to them both in a manner which was + charmingly inclusive and confidential. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Cavendish, I imagine, has already warned you that you might expect a + visit from me,” he said tentatively. Carroll nodded. He was too much + concerned to interrupt. + </p> + <p> + “Then I need only tell you,” Wimpole continued, “that I got up at an + absurd hour this morning to read your play; that I did read it; that I + like it immensely—and that if we can come to terms I shall produce + it I shall produce it at once, within a fortnight or three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + Carroll was staring at him intently and continued doing so after Wimpole + had finished speaking. The actor felt he had somehow missed his point, or + that Carroll could not have understood him, and repeated, “I say I shall + put it in rehearsal at once.” + </p> + <p> + Carroll rose abruptly, and pushed back his chair. “I should be very glad,” + he murmured, and strode over to the window, where he stood with his back + turned to his guests. Wimpole looked after him with a kindly smile and + nodded his head appreciatively. He had produced even a greater effect than + his lines seemed to warrant. When he spoke again, it was quite simply, and + sincerely, and though he spoke for Carroll’s benefit, he addressed himself + to Marion. + </p> + <p> + “You were quite right last night,” he said, “it is a most charming piece + of work. I am really extremely grateful to you for bringing it to my + notice.” He rose, and going to Carroll, put his hand on his shoulder. “My + boy,” he said, “I congratulate you. I should like to be your age, and to + have written that play. Come to my theatre to-morrow and we will talk + terms. Talk it over first with your friends, so that I sha’n’t rob you. Do + you think you would prefer a lump sum now, and so be done with it + altogether, or trust that the royalties may—” + </p> + <p> + “Royalties,” prompted Marion, in an eager aside. + </p> + <p> + The men laughed. “Quite right,” Wimpole assented, good-humoredly; “it’s a + poor sportsman who doesn’t back his own horse. Well, then, until + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” Carroll began, “one moment please. I haven’t thanked you.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” cried Wimpole, waving him away with his stick, “it is I who + have to thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “And—and there is a condition,” Carroll said, “which goes with the + play. It is that Miss Cavendish is to have the part of Nancy.” + </p> + <p> + Wimpole looked serious and considered for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy,” he said, “the girl who interferes—a very good part. I have + cast Miss Maddox for it in my mind, but, of course, if the author insists—” + </p> + <p> + Marion, with her elbows on the table, clasped her hands appealingly before + her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Wimpole!” she cried, “you owe me that, at least.” + </p> + <p> + Carroll leaned over and took both of Marion’s hands in one of his. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right,” he said; “the author insists.” + </p> + <p> + Wimpole waved his stick again as though it were the magic wand of the good + fairy. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it,” he said. “I recall your performance in ‘The New Boy’ + with pleasure. I take the play, and Miss Cavendish shall be cast for + Nancy. We shall begin rehearsals at once. I hope you are a quick study.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m letter-perfect now{,}” laughed Marion. + </p> + <p> + Wimpole turned at the door and nodded to them. They were both so young, so + eager, and so jubilant that he felt strangely old and out of it. “Good-by, + then,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, sir,” they both chorussed. And Marion cried after him, “And + thank you a thousand times.” + </p> + <p> + He turned again and looked back at them, but in their rejoicing they had + already forgotten him. “Bless you, my children,” he said, smiling. As he + was about to close the door a young girl came down the passage toward it, + and as she was apparently going to Carroll’s rooms, the actor left the + door open behind him. + </p> + <p> + Neither Marion nor Carroll had noticed his final exit. They were both + gazing at each other as though, could they find speech, they would ask if + it were true. + </p> + <p> + “It’s come at last, Marion,” Philip said, with an uncertain voice. + </p> + <p> + “I could weep,” cried Marion. “Philip,” she exclaimed, “I would rather see + that play succeed than any play ever written, and I would rather play that + part in it than—Oh, Philip,” she ended. “I’m so proud of you!” and + rising, she threw her arms about his neck and sobbed on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Carroll raised one of her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers gently. + “I owe it to you, Marion,” he said—“all to you.” + </p> + <p> + This was the tableau that was presented through the open door to Miss + Helen Cabot, hurrying on her errand of restitution and good-will, and with + Philip’s ring and watch clasped in her hand. They had not heard her, nor + did they see her at the door, so she drew back quickly and ran along the + passage and down the stairs into the street. + </p> + <p> + She did not need now to analyze her feelings. They were only too evident. + For she could translate what she had just seen as meaning only one thing—that + she had considered Philip’s love so lightly that she had not felt it + passing away from her until her neglect had killed it—until it was + too late. And now that it was too late she felt that without it her life + could not go on. She tried to assure herself that only the fact that she + had lost it made it seem invaluable, but this thought did not comfort her—she + was not deceived by it, she knew that at last she cared for him deeply and + entirely. In her distress she blamed herself bitterly, but she also blamed + Philip no less bitterly for having failed to wait for her. “He might have + known that I must love him in time,” she repeated to herself again and + again. She was so unhappy that her letter congratulating Philip on his + good fortune in having his comedy accepted seemed to him cold and + unfeeling, and as his success meant for him only what it meant to her, he + was hurt and grievously disappointed. + </p> + <p> + He accordingly turned the more readily to Marion, whose interests and + enthusiasm at the rehearsals of the piece seemed in contrast most friendly + and unselfish. He could not help but compare the attitude of the two girls + at this time, when the failure or success of his best work was still + undecided. He felt that as Helen took so little interest in his success he + could not dare to trouble her with his anxieties concerning it, and she + attributed his silence to his preoccupation and interest in Marion. So the + two grew apart, each misunderstanding the other and each troubled in + spirit at the other’s indifference. + </p> + <p> + The first night of the play justified all that Marion and Wimpole had + claimed for it, and was a great personal triumph for the new playwright. + The audience was the typical first-night audience of the class which + Charles Wimpole always commanded. It was brilliant, intelligent, and + smart, and it came prepared to be pleased. + </p> + <p> + From one of the upper stage-boxes Helen and Lady Gower watched the + successful progress of the play with an anxiety almost as keen as that of + the author. To Helen it seemed as though the giving of these lines to the + public—these lines which he had so often read to her, and altered to + her liking—was a desecration. It seemed as though she were losing + him indeed—as though he now belonged to these strange people, all of + whom were laughing and applauding his words, from the German Princess in + the Royal box to the straight-backed Tommy in the pit. Instead of the + painted scene before her, she saw the birch-trees by the river at home, + where he had first read her the speech to which they were now listening so + intensely—the speech in which the hero tells the girl he loves her. + She remembered that at the time she had thought how wonderful it would be + if some day some one made such a speech to her—not Philip—but + a man she loved. And now? If Philip would only make that speech to her + now! + </p> + <p> + He came out at last, with Wimpole leading him, and bowed across a glaring + barrier of lights at a misty but vociferous audience that was shouting the + generous English bravo! and standing up to applaud. He raised his eyes to + the box where Helen sat, and saw her staring down at the tumult, with her + hands clasped under her chin. Her face was colorless, but lit with the + excitement of the moment; and he saw that she was crying. + </p> + <p> + Lady Gower, from behind her, was clapping her hands delightedly. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Helen,” she remonstrated breathlessly, “you never told me he + was so good-looking.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Helen, rising abruptly, “he is—very good-looking.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed the box to where her cloak was hanging, but instead of taking + it down buried her face in its folds. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child!” cried Lady Gower, in dismay. “What is it? The excitement + has been too much for you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am just happy,” sobbed Helen. “I am just happy for him.” + </p> + <p> + “We will go and tell him so then,” said Lady Gower. “I am sure he would + like to hear it from you to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Philip was standing in the centre of the stage, surrounded by many pretty + ladies and elderly men. Wimpole was hovering over him as though he had + claims upon him by the right of discovery. + </p> + <p> + But when Philip saw Helen, he pushed his way toward her eagerly and took + her hand in both of his. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad, Phil,” she said. She felt it all so deeply that she was + afraid to say more, but that meant so much to her that she was sure he + would understand. + </p> + <p> + He had planned it very differently. For a year he had dreamed that, on the + first night of his play, there would be a supper, and that he would rise + and drink her health, and tell his friends and the world that she was the + woman he loved, and that she had agreed to marry him, and that at last he + was able, through the success of his play, to make her his wife. + </p> + <p> + And now they met in a crowd to shake hands, and she went her way with one + of her grand ladies, and he was left among a group of chattering + strangers. The great English playwright took him by the hand and in the + hearing of all, praised him gracefully and kindly. It did not matter to + Philip whether the older playwright believed what he said or not; he knew + it was generously meant. + </p> + <p> + “I envy you this,” the great man was saying. “Don’t lose any of it, stay + and listen to all they have to say. You will never live through the first + night of your first play but once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I hear them,” said Philip, nervously; “they are all too kind. But I + don’t hear the voice I have been listening for,” he added in a whisper. + The older man pressed his hand again quickly. “My dear boy,” he said, “I + am sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” Philip answered. + </p> + <p> + Within a week he had forgotten the great man’s fine words of praise, but + the clasp of his hand he cherished always. + </p> + <p> + Helen met Marion as she was leaving the stage door and stopped to + congratulate her on her success in the new part. Marion was radiant. To + Helen she seemed obstreperously happy and jubilant. + </p> + <p> + “And, Marion,” Helen began bravely, “I also want to congratulate you on + something else. You—you—neither of you have told me yet,” she + stammered, “but I am such an old friend of both that I will not be kept + out of the secret.” At these words Marion’s air of triumphant gayety + vanished; she regarded Helen’s troubled eyes closely and kindly. + </p> + <p> + “What secret, Helen?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I came to the door of Philip’s room the other day when you did not know I + was there,” Helen answered; “and I could not help seeing how matters were. + And I do congratulate you both—and wish you—oh, such + happiness!” Without a word Marion dragged her back down the passage to her + dressing-room, and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me what you mean,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry if I discovered anything you didn’t want known yet,” said + Helen, “but the door was open. Mr. Wimpole had just left you and had not + shut it, and I could not help seeing.” + </p> + <p> + Marion interrupted her with an eager exclamation of enlightenment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you were there, then,” she cried. “And you?” she asked eagerly—“you + thought Phil cared for me—that we are engaged, and it hurt you; you + are sorry? Tell me,” she demanded, “are you sorry?” + </p> + <p> + Helen drew back and stretched out her hand toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “How can you!” she exclaimed, indignantly. “You have no right.” + </p> + <p> + Marion stood between her and the door. + </p> + <p> + “I have every right,” she said, “to help my friends, and I want to help + you and Philip. And indeed I do hope you ARE sorry. I hope you are + miserable. And I’m glad you saw me kiss him. That was the first and the + last time, and I did it because I was happy and glad for him; and because + I love him too, but not in the least in the way he loves you. No one ever + loved any one as he loves you. And it’s time you found it out. And if I + have helped to make you find it out I’m glad, and I don’t care how much I + hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “Marion!” exclaimed Helen, “what does it mean? Do you mean that you are + not engaged; that—” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” Marion answered. “I am going to marry Reggie. It is you + that Philip loves, and I am very sorry for you that you don’t love him.” + </p> + <p> + Helen clasped Marion’s hands in both of hers. + </p> + <p> + “But, Marion!” she cried, “I do, oh, I do!” + </p> + <p> + There was a thick yellow fog the next morning, and with it rain and a + sticky, depressing dampness which crept through the window-panes, and + which neither a fire nor blazing gas-jets could overcome. + </p> + <p> + Philip stood in front of the fireplace with the morning papers piled high + on the centre-table and scattered over the room about him. + </p> + <p> + He had read them all, and he knew now what it was to wake up famous, but + he could not taste it. Now that it had come it meant nothing, and that it + was so complete a triumph only made it the harder. In his most optimistic + dreams he had never imagined success so satisfying as the reality had + proved to be; but in his dreams Helen had always held the chief part, and + without her, success seemed only to mock him. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to lay it all before her, to say, “If you are pleased, I am + happy. If you are satisfied, then I am content. It was done for you, and I + am wholly yours, and all that I do is yours.” + </p> + <p> + And, as though in answer to his thoughts, there was an instant knock at + the door, and Helen entered the room and stood smiling at him across the + table. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were lit with excitement, and spoke with many emotions, and her + cheeks were brilliant with color. He had never seen her look more + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Helen!” he exclaimed, “how good of you to come. Is there anything + wrong? Is anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + She tried to speak, but faltered, and smiled at him appealingly. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked in great concern. + </p> + <p> + Helen drew in her breath quickly, and at the same moment motioned him away—and + he stepped back and stood watching her in much perplexity. + </p> + <p> + With her eyes fixed on his she raised her hands to her head, and her + fingers fumbled with the knot of her veil. She pulled it loose, and then, + with a sudden courage, lifted her hat proudly, as though it were a + coronet, and placed it between them on his table. + </p> + <p> + “Philip,” she stammered, with the tears in her voice and eyes, “if you + will let me—I have come to stay.” + </p> + <p> + The table was no longer between them. He caught her in his arms and kissed + her face and her uncovered head again and again. From outside the rain + beat drearily and the fog rolled through the street, but inside before the + fire the two young people sat close together, asking eager questions or + sitting in silence, staring at the flames with wondering, happy eyes. + </p> + <p> + The Lion and the Unicorn saw them only once again. It was a month later + when they stopped in front of the shop in a four-wheeler, with their + baggage mixed on top of it, and steamer-labels pasted over every trunk. + </p> + <p> + “And, oh, Prentiss!” Carroll called from the cab-window. “I came near + forgetting. I promised to gild the Lion and the Unicorn if I won out in + London. So have it done, please, and send the bill to me. For I’ve won out + all right.” And then he shut the door of the cab, and they drove away + forever. + </p> + <p> + “Nice gal, that,” growled the Lion. “I always liked her. I am glad they’ve + settled it at last.” + </p> + <p> + The Unicorn sighed, sentimentally. “The other one’s worth two of her,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ON THE FEVER SHIP + </h2> + <p> + There were four rails around the ship’s sides, the three lower ones of + iron and the one on top of wood, and as he looked between them from the + canvas cot he recognized them as the prison-bars which held him in. + Outside his prison lay a stretch of blinding blue water which ended in a + line of breakers and a yellow coast with ragged palms. Beyond that again + rose a range of mountain-peaks, and, stuck upon the loftiest peak of all, + a tiny block-house. It rested on the brow of the mountain against the + naked sky as impudently as a cracker-box set upon the dome of a great + cathedral. + </p> + <p> + As the transport rode on her anchor-chains, the iron bars around her sides + rose and sank and divided the landscape with parallel lines. From his cot + the officer followed this phenomenon with severe, painstaking interest. + Sometimes the wooden rail swept up to the very block-house itself, and for + a second of time blotted it from sight. And again it sank to the level of + the line of breakers, and wiped them out of the picture as though they + were a line of chalk. + </p> + <p> + The soldier on the cot promised himself that the next swell of the sea + would send the lowest rail climbing to the very top of the palm-trees or, + even higher, to the base of the mountains; and when it failed to reach + even the palm-trees he felt a distinct sense of ill use, of having been + wronged by some one. There was no other reason for submitting to this + existence, save these tricks upon the wearisome, glaring landscape; and, + now, whoever it was who was working them did not seem to be making this + effort to entertain him with any heartiness. + </p> + <p> + It was most cruel. Indeed, he decided hotly, it was not to be endured; he + would bear it no longer, he would make his escape. But he knew that this + move, which could be conceived in a moment’s desperation, could only be + carried to success with great strategy, secrecy, and careful cunning. So + he fell back upon his pillow and closed his eyes, as though he were + asleep, and then opening them again, turned cautiously, and spied upon his + keeper. As usual, his keeper sat at the foot of the cot turning the pages + of a huge paper filled with pictures of the war printed in daubs of tawdry + colors. His keeper was a hard-faced boy without human pity or + consideration, a very devil of obstinacy and fiendish cruelty. To make it + worse, the fiend was a person without a collar, in a suit of soiled khaki, + with a curious red cross bound by a safety-pin to his left arm. He was + intent upon the paper in his hands; he was holding it between his eyes and + his prisoner. His vigilance had relaxed, and the moment seemed propitious. + With a sudden plunge of arms and legs, the prisoner swept the bed sheet + from him, and sprang at the wooden rail and grasped the iron stanchion + beside it. He had his knee pressed against the top bar and his bare toes + on the iron rail beneath it. Below him the blue water waited for him. It + was cool and dark and gentle and deep. It would certainly put out the fire + in his bones, he thought; it might even shut out the glare of the sun + which scorched his eyeballs. + </p> + <p> + But as he balanced for the leap, a swift weakness and nausea swept over + him, a weight seized upon his body and limbs. He could not lift the lower + foot from the iron rail, and he swayed dizzily and trembled. He trembled. + He who had raced his men and beaten them up the hot hill to the trenches + of San Juan. But now he was a baby in the hands of a giant, who caught him + by the wrist and with an iron arm clasped him around his waist and pulled + him down, and shouted, brutally, “Help, some of you’se, quick; he’s at it + again. I can’t hold him.” + </p> + <p> + More giants grasped him by the arms and by the legs. One of them took the + hand that clung to the stanchion in both of his, and pulled back the + fingers one by one, saying, “Easy now, Lieutenant—easy.” + </p> + <p> + The ragged palms and the sea and block-house were swallowed up in a black + fog, and his body touched the canvas cot again with a sense of home-coming + and relief and rest. He wondered how he could have cared to escape from + it. He found it so good to be back again that for a long time he wept + quite happily, until the fiery pillow was moist and cool. + </p> + <p> + The world outside of the iron bars was like a scene in a theatre set for + some great event, but the actors were never ready. He remembered + confusedly a play he had once witnessed before that same scene. Indeed, he + believed he had played some small part in it; but he remembered it dimly, + and all trace of the men who had appeared with him in it was gone. He had + reasoned it out that they were up there behind the range of mountains, + because great heavy wagons and ambulances and cannon were emptied from the + ships at the wharf above and were drawn away in long lines behind the + ragged palms, moving always toward the passes between the peaks. At times + he was disturbed by the thought that he should be up and after them, that + some tradition of duty made his presence with them imperative. There was + much to be done back of the mountains. Some event of momentous import was + being carried forward there, in which he held a part; but the doubt soon + passed from him, and he was content to lie and watch the iron bars rising + and falling between the block-house and the white surf. + </p> + <p> + If they had been only humanely kind, his lot would have been bearable, but + they starved him and held him down when he wished to rise; and they would + not put out the fire in the pillow, which they might easily have done by + the simple expedient of throwing it over the ship’s side into the sea. He + himself had done this twice, but the keeper had immediately brought a + fresh pillow already heated for the torture and forced it under his head. + </p> + <p> + His pleasures were very simple, and so few that he could not understand + why they robbed him of them so jealously. One was to watch a green cluster + of bananas that hung above him from the awning twirling on a string. He + could count as many of them as five before the bunch turned and swung + lazily back again, when he could count as high as twelve; sometimes when + the ship rolled heavily he could count to twenty. It was a most + fascinating game, and contented him for many hours. But when they found + this out they sent for the cook to come and cut them down, and the cook + carried them away to his galley. + </p> + <p> + Then, one day, a man came out from the shore, swimming through the blue + water with great splashes. He was a most charming man, who spluttered and + dove and twisted and lay on his back and kicked his legs in an excess of + content and delight. It was a real pleasure to watch him; not for days had + anything so amusing appeared on the other side of the prison-bars. But as + soon as the keeper saw that the man in the water was amusing his prisoner, + he leaned over the ship’s side and shouted, “Sa-ay, you, don’t you know + there’s sharks in there?” + </p> + <p> + And the swimming man said, “The h—ll there is!” and raced back to + the shore like a porpoise with great lashing of the water, and ran up the + beach half-way to the palms before he was satisfied to stop. Then the + prisoner wept again. It was so disappointing. Life was robbed of + everything now. He remembered that in a previous existence soldiers who + cried were laughed at and mocked. + </p> + <p> + But that was so far away and it was such an absurd superstition that he + had no patience with it. For what could be more comforting to a man when + he is treated cruelly than to cry. It was so obvious an exercise, and when + one is so feeble that one cannot vault a four-railed barrier it is + something to feel that at least one is strong enough to cry. + </p> + <p> + He escaped occasionally, traversing space with marvellous rapidity and to + great distances, but never to any successful purpose; and his flight + inevitably ended in ignominious recapture and a sudden awakening in bed. + At these moments the familiar and hated palms, the peaks and the + block-house were more hideous in their reality than the most terrifying of + his nightmares. + </p> + <p> + These excursions afield were always predatory; he went forth always to + seek food. With all the beautiful world from which to elect and choose, he + sought out only those places where eating was studied and elevated to an + art. These visits were much more vivid in their detail than any he had + ever before made to these same resorts. They invariably began in a + carriage, which carried him swiftly over smooth asphalt. One route brought + him across a great and beautiful square, radiating with rows and rows of + flickering lights; two fountains splashed in the centre of the square, and + six women of stone guarded its approaches. One of the women was hung with + wreaths of mourning. Ahead of him the late twilight darkened behind a + great arch, which seemed to rise on the horizon of the world, a great + window into the heavens beyond. At either side strings of white and + colored globes hung among the trees, and the sound of music came joyfully + from theatres in the open air. He knew the restaurant under the trees to + which he was now hastening, and the fountain beside it, and the very + sparrows balancing on the fountain’s edge; he knew every waiter at each of + the tables, he felt again the gravel crunching under his feet, he saw the + maitre d’hotel coming forward smiling to receive his command, and the + waiter in the green apron bowing at his elbow, deferential and important, + presenting the list of wines. But his adventure never passed that point, + for he was captured again and once more bound to his cot with a close + burning sheet. + </p> + <p> + Or else, he drove more sedately through the London streets in the late + evening twilight, leaning expectantly across the doors of the hansom and + pulling carefully at his white gloves. Other hansoms flashed past him, the + occupant of each with his mind fixed on one idea—dinner. He was one + of a million of people who were about to dine, or who had dined, or who + were deep in dining. + </p> + <p> + He was so famished, so weak for food of any quality, that the galloping + horse in the hansom seemed to crawl. The lights of the Embankment passed + like the lamps of a railroad station as seen from the window of an + express; and while his mind was still torn between the choice of a thin or + thick soup or an immediate attack upon cold beef, he was at the door, and + the chasseur touched his cap, and the little chasseur put the wicker guard + over the hansom’s wheel. As he jumped out he said, “Give him + half-a-crown,” and the driver called after him, “Thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful world, this world outside of the iron bars. Every one + in it contributed to his pleasure and to his comfort. In this world he was + not starved nor manhandled. He thought of this joyfully as he leaped up + the stairs, where young men with grave faces and with their hands held + negligently behind their backs bowed to him in polite surprise at his + speed. But they had not been starved on condensed milk. He threw his coat + and hat at one of them, and came down the hall fearfully and quite weak + with dread lest it should not be real. His voice was shaking when he asked + Ellis if he had reserved a table. The place was all so real, it must be + true this time. The way Ellis turned and ran his finger down the list + showed it was real, because Ellis always did that, even when he knew there + would not be an empty table for an hour. The room was crowded with + beautiful women; under the light of the red shades they looked kind and + approachable, and there was food on every table, and iced drinks in silver + buckets. + </p> + <p> + It was with the joy of great relief that he heard Ellis say to his + underling, “Numero cinq, sur la terrace, un couvert.” It was real at last. + Outside, the Thames lay a great gray shadow. The lights of the Embankment + flashed and twinkled across it, the tower of the House of Commons rose + against the sky, and here, inside, the waiter was hurrying toward him + carrying a smoking plate of rich soup with a pungent intoxicating odor. + </p> + <p> + And then the ragged palms, the glaring sun, the immovable peaks, and the + white surf stood again before him. The iron rails swept up and sank again, + the fever sucked at his bones, and the pillow scorched his cheek. + </p> + <p> + One morning for a brief moment he came back to real life again and lay + quite still, seeing everything about him with clear eyes and for the first + time, as though he had but just that instant been lifted over the ship’s + side. His keeper, glancing up, found the prisoner’s eyes considering him + curiously, and recognized the change. The instinct of discipline brought + him to his feet with his fingers at his sides. + </p> + <p> + “Is the Lieutenant feeling better?” + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant surveyed him gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You are one of our hospital stewards.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lieutenant.” + </p> + <p> + “Why ar’n’t you with the regiment?” + </p> + <p> + “I was wounded, too, sir. I got it same time you did, Lieutenant.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I wounded? Of course, I remember. Is this a hospital ship?” + </p> + <p> + The steward shrugged his shoulders. “She’s one of the transports. They + have turned her over to the fever cases.” + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant opened his lips to ask another question; but his own body + answered that one, and for a moment he lay silent. + </p> + <p> + “Do they know up North that I—that I’m all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, the papers had it in—there was pictures of the Lieutenant + in some of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ve been ill some time?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, about eight days.” + </p> + <p> + The soldier moved uneasily, and the nurse in him became uppermost. + </p> + <p> + “I guess the Lieutenant hadn’t better talk any more,” he said. It was his + voice now which held authority. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant looked out at the palms and the silent gloomy mountains and + the empty coast-line, where the same wave was rising and falling with + weary persistence. + </p> + <p> + “Eight days,” he said. His eyes shut quickly, as though with a sudden + touch of pain. He turned his head and sought for the figure at the foot of + the cot. Already the figure had grown faint and was receding and swaying. + </p> + <p> + “Has any one written or cabled?” the Lieutenant spoke, hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + He was fearful lest the figure should disappear altogether before he could + obtain his answer. “Has any one come?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, they couldn’t get here, Lieutenant, not yet.” + </p> + <p> + The voice came very faintly. “You go to sleep now, and I’ll run and fetch + some letters and telegrams. When you wake up, may be I’ll have a lot for + you.” + </p> + <p> + But the Lieutenant caught the nurse by the wrist, and crushed his hand in + his own thin fingers. They were hot, and left the steward’s skin wet with + perspiration. The Lieutenant laughed gayly. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Doctor,” he said, briskly, “that you can’t kill me. I can’t die. + I’ve got to live, you understand. Because, sir, she said she would come. + She said if I was wounded, or if I was ill, she would come to me. She + didn’t care what people thought. She would come any way and nurse me—well, + she will come. + </p> + <p> + “So, Doctor—old man—” He plucked at the steward’s sleeve, and + stroked his hand eagerly, “old man—” he began again, beseechingly, + “you’ll not let me die until she comes, will you? What? No, I know I won’t + die. Nothing made by man can kill me. No, not until she comes. Then, after + that—eight days, she’ll be here soon, any moment? What? You think + so, too? Don’t you? Surely, yes, any moment. Yes, I’ll go to sleep now, + and when you see her rowing out from shore you wake me. You’ll know her; + you can’t make a mistake. She is like—no, there is no one like her—but + you can’t make a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + That day strange figures began to mount the sides of the ship, and to + occupy its every turn and angle of space. Some of them fell on their knees + and slapped the bare deck with their hands, and laughed and cried out, + “Thank God, I’ll see God’s country again!” Some of them were regulars, + bound in bandages; some were volunteers, dirty and hollow-eyed, with long + beards on boys’ faces. Some came on crutches; others with their arms + around the shoulders of their comrades, staring ahead of them with a fixed + smile, their lips drawn back and their teeth protruding. At every second + step they stumbled, and the face of each was swept by swift ripples of + pain. + </p> + <p> + They lay on cots so close together that the nurses could not walk between + them. They lay on the wet decks, in the scuppers, and along the transoms + and hatches. They were like shipwrecked mariners clinging to a raft, and + they asked nothing more than that the ship’s bow be turned toward home. + Once satisfied as to that, they relaxed into a state of self-pity and + miserable oblivion to their environment, from which hunger nor nausea nor + aching bones could shake them. + </p> + <p> + The hospital steward touched the Lieutenant lightly on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “We are going North, sir,” he said. “The transport’s ordered North to New + York, with these volunteers and the sick and wounded. Do you hear me, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant opened his eyes. “Has she come?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” exclaimed the hospital steward. He glanced impatiently at the blue + mountains and the yellow coast, from which the transport was drawing + rapidly away. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can’t see her coming just now,” he said. “But she will,” he + added. + </p> + <p> + “You let me know at once when she comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, cert’nly, of course,” said the steward. + </p> + <p> + Three trained nurses came over the side just before the transport started + North. One was a large, motherly-looking woman, with a German accent. She + had been a trained nurse, first in Berlin, and later in the London + Hospital in Whitechapel, and at Bellevue. + </p> + <p> + The nurse was dressed in white, and wore a little silver medal at her + throat; and she was strong enough to lift a volunteer out of his cot and + hold him easily in her arms, while one of the convalescents pulled his cot + out of the rain. Some of the men called her “nurse;” others, who wore + scapulars around their necks, called her “Sister;” and the officers of the + medical staff addressed her as Miss Bergen. + </p> + <p> + Miss Bergen halted beside the cot of the Lieutenant and asked, “Is this + the fever case you spoke about, Doctor—the one you want moved to the + officers’ ward?” She slipped her hand up under his sleeve and felt his + wrist. + </p> + <p> + “His pulse is very high,” she said to the steward. “When did you take his + temperature?” She drew a little morocco case from her pocket and from that + took a clinical thermometer, which she shook up and down, eying the + patient meanwhile with a calm, impersonal scrutiny. The Lieutenant raised + his head and stared up at the white figure beside his cot. His eyes opened + and then shut quickly, with a startled look, in which doubt struggled with + wonderful happiness. His hand stole out fearfully and warily until it + touched her apron, and then, finding it was real, he clutched it + desperately, and twisting his face and body toward her, pulled her down, + clasping her hands in both of his, and pressing them close to his face and + eyes and lips. He put them from him for an instant, and looked at her + through his tears. + </p> + <p> + “Sweetheart,” he whispered, “sweetheart, I knew you’d come.” + </p> + <p> + As the nurse knelt on the deck beside him, her thermometer slipped from + her fingers and broke, and she gave an exclamation of annoyance. The young + Doctor picked up the pieces and tossed them overboard. Neither of them + spoke, but they smiled appreciatively. The Lieutenant was looking at the + nurse with the wonder and hope and hunger of soul in his eyes with which a + dying man looks at the cross the priest holds up before him. What he saw + where the German nurse was kneeling was a tall, fair girl with great bands + and masses of hair, with a head rising like a lily from a firm, white + throat, set on broad shoulders above a straight back and sloping breast—a + tall, beautiful creature, half-girl, half-woman, who looked back at him + shyly, but steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The voice of the sick man was so sure and so sane that the young Doctor + started, and moved nearer to the head of the cot. “Listen, dearest,” the + Lieutenant whispered. “I wanted to tell you before I came South. But I did + not dare; and then I was afraid something might happen to me, and I could + never tell you, and you would never know. So I wrote it to you in the will + I made at Baiquiri, the night before the landing. If you hadn’t come now, + you would have learned it in that way. You would have read there that + there never was any one but you; the rest were all dream people, foolish, + silly—mad. There is no one else in the world but you; you have been + the only thing in life that has counted. I thought I might do something + down here that would make you care. But I got shot going up a hill, and + after that I wasn’t able to do anything. It was very hot, and the hills + were on fire; and they took me prisoner, and kept me tied down here, + burning on these coals. I can’t live much longer, but now that I have told + you I can have peace. They tried to kill me before you came; but they + didn’t know I loved you, they didn’t know that men who love you can’t die. + They tried to starve my love for you, to burn it out of me; they tried to + reach it with their knives. But my love for you is my soul, and they can’t + kill a man’s soul. Dear heart, I have lived because you lived. Now that + you know—now that you understand—what does it matter?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bergen shook her head with great vigor. “Nonsense,” she said, + cheerfully. “You are not going to die. As soon as we move you out of this + rain, and some food cook—” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” cried the young Doctor, savagely. “Do you want to kill him?” + </p> + <p> + When she spoke the patient had thrown his arms heavily across his face, + and had fallen back, lying rigid on the pillow. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor led the way across the prostrate bodies, apologizing as he + went. “I am sorry I spoke so quickly,” he said, “but he thought you were + real. I mean he thought you were some one he really knew—” + </p> + <p> + “He was just delirious,” said the German nurse, calmly. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor mixed himself a Scotch and soda and drank it with a single + gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” he said to the ward-room. “I feel as though I’d been opening + another man’s letters.” + </p> + <p> + The transport drove through the empty seas with heavy, clumsy upheavals, + rolling like a buoy. Having been originally intended for the + freight-carrying trade, she had no sympathy with hearts that beat for a + sight of their native land, or for lives that counted their remaining + minutes by the throbbing of her engines. Occasionally, without apparent + reason, she was thrown violently from her course: but it was invariably + the case that when her stern went to starboard, something splashed in the + water on her port side and drifted past her, until, when it had cleared + the blades of her propeller, a voice cried out, and she was swung back on + her home-bound track again. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant missed the familiar palms and the tiny block-house; and + seeing nothing beyond the iron rails but great wastes of gray water, he + decided he was on board a prison-ship, or that he had been strapped to a + raft and cast adrift. People came for hours at a time and stood at the + foot of his cot, and talked with him and he to them—people he had + loved and people he had long forgotten, some of whom he had thought were + dead. One of them he could have sworn he had seen buried in a deep trench, + and covered with branches of palmetto. He had heard the bugler, with tears + choking him, sound “taps;” and with his own hand he had placed the dead + man’s campaign hat on the mound of fresh earth above the grave. Yet here + he was still alive, and he came with other men of his troop to speak to + him; but when he reached out to them they were gone—the real and the + unreal, the dead and the living—and even She disappeared whenever he + tried to take her hand, and sometimes the hospital steward drove her away. + </p> + <p> + “Did that young lady say when she was coming back again?” he asked the + steward. + </p> + <p> + “The young lady! What young lady?” asked the steward, wearily. + </p> + <p> + “The one who has been sitting there,” he answered. He pointed with his + gaunt hand at the man in the next cot. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that young lady. Yes, she’s coming back. She’s just gone below to + fetch you some hard-tack.” + </p> + <p> + The young volunteer in the next cot whined grievously. + </p> + <p> + “That crazy man gives me the creeps,” he groaned. “He’s always waking me + up, and looking at me as though he was going to eat me.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut your head,” said the steward. “He’s a better man crazy than you’ll + ever be with the little sense you’ve got. And he has two Mauser holes in + him. Crazy, eh? It’s a damned good thing for you that there was about four + thousand of us regulars just as crazy as him, or you’d never seen the top + of the hill.” + </p> + <p> + One morning there was a great commotion on deck, and all the convalescents + balanced themselves on the rail, shivering in their pajamas, and pointed + one way. The transport was moving swiftly and smoothly through water as + flat as a lake, and making a great noise with her steam-whistle. The noise + was echoed by many more steam-whistles; and the ghosts of out-bound ships + and tugs and excursion steamers ran past her out of the mist and + disappeared, saluting joyously. All of the excursion steamers had a heavy + list to the side nearest the transport, and the ghosts on them crowded to + that rail and waved handkerchiefs and cheered. The fog lifted suddenly, + and between the iron rails the Lieutenant saw high green hills on either + side of a great harbor. + </p> + <p> + Houses and trees and thousands of masts swept past like a panorama; and + beyond was a mirage of three cities, with curling smoke-wreaths and + sky-reaching buildings, and a great swinging bridge, and a giant statue of + a woman waving a welcome home. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant surveyed the spectacle with cynical disbelief. He was far + too wise and far too cunning to be bewitched by it. In his heart he pitied + the men about him, who laughed wildly, and shouted, and climbed recklessly + to the rails and ratlines. He had been deceived too often not to know that + it was not real. He knew from cruel experience that in a few moments the + tall buildings would crumble away, the thousands of columns of white smoke + that flashed like snow in the sun, the busy, shrieking tug-boats, and the + great statue would vanish into the sea, leaving it gray and bare. He + closed his eyes and shut the vision out. It was so beautiful that it + tempted him; but he would not be mocked, and he buried his face in his + hands. They were carrying the farce too far, he thought. It was really too + absurd; for now they were at a wharf which was so real that, had he not + known by previous suffering, he would have been utterly deceived by it. + And there were great crowds of smiling, cheering people, and a waiting + guard of honor in fresh uniforms, and rows of police pushing the people + this way and that; and these men about him were taking it all quite + seriously, and making ready to disembark, carrying their blanket-rolls and + rifles with them. + </p> + <p> + A band was playing joyously, and the man in the next cot, who was being + lifted to a stretcher, said, “There’s the Governor and his staff; that’s + him in the high hat.” It was really very well done. The Custom-house and + the Elevated Railroad and Castle Garden were as like to life as a + photograph, and the crowd was as well handled as a mob in a play. His + heart ached for it so that he could not bear the pain, and he turned his + back on it. It was cruel to keep it up so long. His keeper lifted him in + his arms, and pulled him into a dirty uniform which had belonged, + apparently, to a much larger man—a man who had been killed probably, + for there were dark-brown marks of blood on the tunic and breeches. When + he tried to stand on his feet, Castle Garden and the Battery disappeared + in a black cloud of night, just as he knew they would; but when he opened + his eyes from the stretcher, they had returned again. It was a most + remarkably vivid vision. They kept it up so well. Now the young Doctor and + the hospital steward were pretending to carry him down a gang-plank and + into an open space; and he saw quite close to him a long line of + policemen, and behind them thousands of faces, some of them women’s faces—women + who pointed at him and then shook their heads and cried, and pressed their + hands to their cheeks, still looking at him. He wondered why they cried. + He did not know them, nor did they know him. No one knew him; these people + were only ghosts. + </p> + <p> + There was a quick parting in the crowd. A man he had once known shoved two + of the policemen to one side, and he heard a girl’s voice speaking his + name, like a sob; and She came running out across the open space and fell + on her knees beside the stretcher, and bent down over him, and he was + clasped in two young, firm arms. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is not real, of course it is not She,” he assured himself. + “Because She would not do such a thing. Before all these people She would + not do it.” + </p> + <p> + But he trembled and his heart throbbed so cruelly that he could not bear + the pain. + </p> + <p> + She was pretending to cry. + </p> + <p> + “They wired us you had started for Tampa on the hospital ship,” She was + saying, “and Aunt and I went all the way there before we heard you had + been sent North. We have been on the cars a week. That is why I missed + you. Do you understand? It was not my fault. I tried to come. Indeed, I + tried to come.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head and looked up fearfully at the young Doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, why does he look at me like that?” she asked. “He doesn’t know + me. Is he very ill? Tell me the truth.” She drew in her breath quickly. + “Of course you will tell me the truth.” + </p> + <p> + When she asked the question he felt her arms draw tight about his + shoulders. It was as though she was holding him to herself, and from some + one who had reached out for him. In his trouble he turned to his old + friend and keeper. His voice was hoarse and very low. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the same young lady who was on the transport—the one you + used to drive away?” + </p> + <p> + In his embarrassment, the hospital steward blushed under his tan, and + stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it’s the same young lady,” the Doctor answered briskly. “And I + won’t let them drive her away.” He turned to her, smiling gravely. “I + think his condition has ceased to be dangerous, madam,” he said. + </p> + <p> + People who in a former existence had been his friends, and Her brother, + gathered about his stretcher and bore him through the crowd and lifted him + into a carriage filled with cushions, among which he sank lower and lower. + Then She sat beside him, and he heard Her brother say to the coachman, + “Home, and drive slowly and keep on the asphalt.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage moved forward, and She put her arm about him and his head + fell on her shoulder, and neither of them spoke. The vision had lasted so + long now that he was torn with the joy that after all it might be real. + But he could not bear the awakening if it were not, so he raised his head + fearfully and looked up into the beautiful eyes above him. His brows were + knit, and he struggled with a great doubt and an awful joy. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest,” he said, “is it real?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it real?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + Even as a dream, it was so wonderfully beautiful that he was satisfied if + it could only continue so, if but for a little while. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” he begged again, trembling, “that it is going to last much + longer?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, and, bending her head slowly, kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “It is going to last—always,” she said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MAN WITH ONE TALENT + </h2> + <p> + The mass-meeting in the Madison Square Garden which was to help set Cuba + free was finished, and the people were pushing their way out of the + overheated building into the snow and sleet of the streets. They had been + greatly stirred and the spell of the last speaker still hung so heavily + upon them that as they pressed down the long corridor they were still + speaking loudly in his praise. + </p> + <p> + A young man moved eagerly amongst them, and pushed his way to wherever a + voice was raised above the rest. He strained forward, listening openly, as + though he tried to judge the effect of the meeting by the verdict of those + about him. + </p> + <p> + But the words he overheard seemed to clash with what he wished them to be, + and the eager look on his face changed to one of doubt and of grave + disappointment. When he had reached the sidewalk he stopped and stood + looking back alternately into the lighted hall and at the hurrying crowds + which were dispersing rapidly. He made a movement as though he would + recall them, as though he felt they were still unconvinced, as though + there was much still left unsaid. + </p> + <p> + A fat stranger halted at his elbow to light his cigar, and glancing up + nodded his head approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “Fine speaker, Senator Stanton, ain’t he?” he said. + </p> + <p> + The young man answered eagerly. “Yes,” he assented, “he is a great orator, + but how could he help but speak well with such a subject?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you ought to have heard him last November at Tammany Hall,” the fat + stranger answered. “He wasn’t quite up to himself to-night. He wasn’t so + interested. Those Cubans are foreigners, you see, but you ought to heard + him last St. Patrick’s day on Home Rule for Ireland. Then he was talking! + That speech made him a United States senator, I guess. I don’t just see + how he expects to win out on this Cuba game. The Cubans haven’t got no + votes.” + </p> + <p> + The young man opened his eyes in some bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “He speaks for the good of Cuba, for the sake of humanity,” he ventured. + </p> + <p> + “What?” inquired the fat stranger. “Oh, yes, of course. Well, I must be + getting on. Good-night, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger moved on his way, but the young man still lingered + uncertainly in the snow-swept corridor shivering violently with the cold + and stamping his feet for greater comfort. His face was burned to a deep + red, which seemed to have come from some long exposure to a tropical sun, + but which held no sign of health. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes were + lighted with the fire of fever and from time to time he was shaken by + violent bursts of coughing which caused him to reach toward one of the + pillars for support. + </p> + <p> + As the last of the lights went out in the Garden, the speaker of the + evening and three of his friends came laughing and talking down the long + corridor. Senator Stanton was a conspicuous figure at any time, and even + in those places where his portraits had not penetrated he was at once + recognized as a personage. Something in his erect carriage and an unusual + grace of movement, and the power and success in his face, made men turn to + look at him. He had been told that he resembled the early portraits of + Henry Clay, and he had never quite forgotten the coincidence. + </p> + <p> + The senator was wrapping the collar of his fur coat around his throat and + puffing contentedly at a fresh cigar, and as he passed, the night watchman + and the ushers bowed to the great man and stood looking after him with the + half-humorous, half-envious deference that the American voter pays to the + successful politician. At the sidewalk, the policemen hurried to open the + door of his carriage and in their eagerness made a double line, through + which he passed nodding to them gravely. The young man who had stood so + long in waiting pushed his way through the line to his side. + </p> + <p> + “Senator Stanton,” he began timidly, “might I speak to you a moment? My + name is Arkwright; I am just back from Cuba, and I want to thank you for + your speech. I am an American, and I thank God that I am since you are + too, sir. No one has said anything since the war began that compares with + what you said to-night. You put it nobly, and I know, for I’ve been there + for three years, only I can’t make other people understand it, and I am + thankful that some one can. You’ll forgive my stopping you, sir, but I + wanted to thank you. I feel it very much.” + </p> + <p> + Senator Stanton’s friends had already seated themselves in his carriage + and were looking out of the door and smiling with mock patience. But the + senator made no move to follow them. Though they were his admirers they + were sometimes skeptical, and he was not sorry that they should hear this + uninvited tribute. So he made a pretence of buttoning his long coat about + him, and nodded encouragingly to Arkwright to continue. “I’m glad you + liked it, sir,” he said with the pleasant, gracious smile that had won him + a friend wherever it had won him a vote. “It is very satisfactory to know + from one who is well informed on the subject that what I have said is + correct. The situation there is truly terrible. You have just returned, + you say? Where were you—in Havana?” + </p> + <p> + “No, in the other provinces, sir,” Arkwright answered. “I have been all + over the island, I am a civil engineer. The truth has not been half told + about Cuba, I assure you, sir. It is massacre there, not war. It is partly + so through ignorance, but nevertheless it is massacre. And what makes it + worse is, that it is the massacre of the innocents. That is what I liked + best of what you said in that great speech, the part about the women and + children.” + </p> + <p> + He reached out his hands detainingly, and then drew back as though in + apology for having already kept the great man so long waiting in the cold. + “I wish I could tell you some of the terrible things I have seen,” he + began again, eagerly as Stanton made no movement to depart. “They are much + worse than those you instanced to-night, and you could make so much better + use of them than any one else. I have seen starving women nursing dead + babies, and sometimes starving babies sucking their dead mother’s breasts; + I have seen men cut down in the open roads and while digging in the fields—and + two hundred women imprisoned in one room without food and eaten with + small-pox, and huts burned while the people in them slept—” + </p> + <p> + The young man had been speaking impetuously, but he stopped as suddenly, + for the senator was not listening to him. He had lowered his eyes and was + looking with a glance of mingled fascination and disgust at Arkwright’s + hands. In his earnestness the young man had stretched them out, and as + they showed behind the line of his ragged sleeves the others could see, + even in the blurred light and falling snow, that the wrists of each hand + were gashed and cut in dark-brown lines like the skin of a mulatto, and in + places were a raw red, where the fresh skin had but just closed over. The + young man paused and stood shivering, still holding his hands out rigidly + before him. + </p> + <p> + The senator raised his eyes slowly and drew away. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” he said in a low voice, pointing with a gloved finger at + the black lines on the wrists. + </p> + <p> + A sergeant in the group of policemen who had closed around the speakers + answered him promptly from his profound fund of professional knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “That’s handcuffs, senator,” he said importantly, and glanced at Stanton + as though to signify that at a word from him he would take this suspicious + character into custody. The young man pulled the frayed cuffs of his shirt + over his wrists and tucked his hands, which the cold had frozen into an + ashy blue, under his armpits to warm them. + </p> + <p> + “No, they don’t use handcuffs in the field,” he said in the same low, + eager tone; “they use ropes and leather thongs; they fastened me behind a + horse and when he stumbled going down the trail it jerked me forward and + the cords would tighten and tear the flesh. But they have had a long time + to heal now. I have been eight months in prison.” + </p> + <p> + The young men at the carriage window had ceased smiling and were listening + intently. One of them stepped out and stood beside the carriage door + looking down at the shivering figure before him with a close and curious + scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “Eight months in prison!” echoed the police sergeant with a note of + triumph; “what did I tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue!” said the young man at the carriage door. There was + silence for a moment, while the men looked at the senator, as though + waiting for him to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Where were you in prison, Mr. Arkwright?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “First in the calaboose at Santa Clara for two months, and then in + Cabanas. The Cubans who were taken when I was, were shot by the fusillade + on different days during this last month. Two of them, the Ezetas, were + father and son, and the Volunteer band played all the time the execution + was going on, so that the other prisoners might not hear them cry ‘Cuba + Libre’ when the order came to fire. But we heard them.” + </p> + <p> + The senator shivered slightly and pulled his fur collar up farther around + his face. “I’d like to talk with you,” he said, “if you have nothing to do + to-morrow. I’d like to go into this thing thoroughly. Congress must be + made to take some action.” + </p> + <p> + The young man clasped his hands eagerly. “Ah, Mr. Stanton, if you would,” + he cried, “if you would only give me an hour! I could tell you so much + that you could use. And you can believe what I say, sir—it is not + necessary to lie—God knows the truth is bad enough. I can give you + names and dates for everything I say. Or I can do better than that, sir. I + can take you there yourself—in three months I can show you all you + need to see, without danger to you in any way. And they would not know me, + now that I have grown a beard, and I am a skeleton to what I was. I can + speak the language well, and I know just what you should see, and then you + could come back as one speaking with authority and not have to say, ‘I + have read,’ or ‘have been told,’ but you can say, ‘These are the things I + have seen’—and you could free Cuba.” + </p> + <p> + The senator coughed and put the question aside for the moment with a wave + of the hand that held his cigar. “We will talk of that to-morrow also. + Come to lunch with me at one. My apartments are in the Berkeley on Fifth + Avenue. But aren’t you afraid to go back there?” he asked curiously. “I + should think you’d had enough of it. And you’ve got a touch of fever, + haven’t you?” He leaned forward and peered into the other’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is only the prison fever,” the young man answered; “food and this cold + will drive that out of me. And I must go back. There is so much to do + there,” he added. “Ah, if I could tell them, as you can tell them, what I + feel here.” He struck his chest sharply with his hand, and on the instant + fell into a fit of coughing so violent that the young man at the carriage + door caught him around the waist, and one of the policemen supported him + from the other side. + </p> + <p> + “You need a doctor,” said the senator kindly. “I’ll ask mine to have a + look at you. Don’t forget, then, at one o’clock to-morrow. We will go into + this thing thoroughly.” He shook Arkwright warmly by the hand and stooping + stepped into the carriage. The young man who had stood at the door + followed him and crowded back luxuriously against the cushions. The + footman swung himself up beside the driver, and said “Uptown Delmonico’s,” + as he wrapped the fur rug around his legs, and with a salute from the + policemen and a scraping of hoofs on the slippery asphalt the great man + was gone. + </p> + <p> + “That poor fellow needs a doctor,” he said as the carriage rolled up the + avenue, “and he needs an overcoat, and he needs food. He needs about + almost everything, by the looks of him.” + </p> + <p> + But the voice of the young man in the corner of the carriage objected + drowsily— + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” he said, “it seemed to me that he had the one thing + needful.” + </p> + <p> + By one o’clock of the day following, Senator Stanton, having read the + reports of his speech in the morning papers, punctuated with “Cheers,” + “Tremendous enthusiasm” and more “Cheers,” was still in a willing frame of + mind toward Cuba and her self-appointed envoy, young Mr. Arkwright. + </p> + <p> + Over night he had had doubts but that the young man’s enthusiasm would + bore him on the morrow, but Mr. Arkwright, when he appeared, developed, on + the contrary, a practical turn of mind which rendered his suggestions both + flattering and feasible. He was still terribly in earnest, but he was + clever enough or serious enough to see that the motives which appealed to + him might not have sufficient force to move a successful statesman into + action. So he placed before the senator only those arguments and reasons + which he guessed were the best adapted to secure his interest and his + help. His proposal as he set it forth was simplicity itself. + </p> + <p> + “Here is a map of the island,” he said; “on it I have marked the places + you can visit in safety, and where you will meet the people you ought to + see. If you leave New York at midnight you can reach Tampa on the second + day. From Tampa we cross in another day to Havana. There you can visit the + Americans imprisoned in Morro and Cabanas, and in the streets you can see + the starving pacificos. From Havana I shall take you by rail to Jucaro, + Matanzas, Santa Clara and Cienfuegos. You will not be able to see the + insurgents in the fields—it is not necessary that you should—but + you can visit one of the sugar plantations and some of the insurgent + chiefs will run the forts by night and come in to talk with you. I will + show you burning fields and houses, and starving men and women by the + thousands, and men and women dying of fevers. You can see Cuban prisoners + shot by a firing squad and you can note how these rebels meet death. You + can see all this in three weeks and be back in New York in a month, as any + one can see it who wishes to learn the truth. Why, English members of + Parliament go all the way to India and British Columbia to inform + themselves about those countries, they travel thousands of miles, but only + one member of either of our houses of Congress has taken the trouble to + cross these eighty miles of water that lie between us and Cuba. You can + either go quietly and incognito, as it were, or you can advertise the fact + of your going, which would be better. And from the moment you start the + interest in your visit will grow and increase until there will be no topic + discussed in any of our papers except yourself, and what you are doing and + what you mean to do. + </p> + <p> + “By the time you return the people will be waiting, ready and eager to + hear whatever you may have to say. Your word will be the last word for + them. It is not as though you were some demagogue seeking notoriety, or a + hotel piazza correspondent at Key West or Jacksonville. You are the only + statesman we have, the only orator Americans will listen to, and I tell + you that when you come before them and bring home to them as only you can + the horrors of this war, you will be the only man in this country. You + will be the Patrick Henry of Cuba; you can go down to history as the man + who added the most beautiful island in the seas to the territory of the + United States, who saved thousands of innocent children and women, and who + dared to do what no other politician has dared to do—to go and see + for himself and to come back and speak the truth. It only means a month + out of your life, a month’s trouble and discomfort, but with no risk. What + is a month out of a lifetime, when that month means immortality to you and + life to thousands? In a month you would make a half dozen after-dinner + speeches and cause your friends to laugh and applaud. Why not wring their + hearts instead, and hold this thing up before them as it is, and shake it + in their faces? Show it to them in all its horror—bleeding, diseased + and naked, an offence to our humanity, and to our prated love of liberty, + and to our God.” + </p> + <p> + The young man threw himself eagerly forward and beat the map with his open + palm. But the senator sat apparently unmoved gazing thoughtfully into the + open fire, and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + While the luncheon was in progress the young gentleman who the night + before had left the carriage and stood at Arkwright’s side, had entered + the room and was listening intently. He had invited himself to some fresh + coffee, and had then relapsed into an attentive silence, following what + the others said with an amused and interested countenance. Stanton had + introduced him as Mr. Livingstone, and appeared to take it for granted + that Arkwright would know who he was. He seemed to regard him with a + certain deference which Arkwright judged was due to some fixed position + the young man held, either of social or of political value. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” said Stanton with consideration, “that I am prepared to + advocate the annexation of the island. It is a serious problem.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not urging that,” Arkwright interrupted anxiously; “the Cubans + themselves do not agree as to that, and in any event it is an + afterthought. Our object now should be to prevent further bloodshed. If + you see a man beating a boy to death, you first save the boy’s life and + decide afterward where he is to go to school. If there were any one else, + senator,” Arkwright continued earnestly, “I would not trouble you. But we + all know your strength in this country. You are independent and fearless, + and men of both parties listen to you. Surely, God has given you this + great gift of oratory, if you will forgive my speaking so, to use only in + a great cause. A grand organ in a cathedral is placed there to lift men’s + thoughts to high resolves and purposes, not to make people dance. A street + organ can do that. Now, here is a cause worthy of your great talents, + worthy of a Daniel Webster, of a Henry Clay.” + </p> + <p> + The senator frowned at the fire and shook his head doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “If they knew what I was down there for,” he asked, “wouldn’t they put me + in prison too?” + </p> + <p> + Arkwright laughed incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” he said; “you would go there as a private citizen, as a + tourist to look on and observe. Spain is not seeking complications of that + sort. She has troubles enough without imprisoning United States senators.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but these fevers now,” persisted Stanton, “they’re no respecter of + persons, I imagine. A United States senator is not above smallpox or + cholera.” + </p> + <p> + Arkwright shook his head impatiently and sighed. + </p> + <p> + “It is difficult to make it clear to one who has not been there,” he said. + “These people and soldiers are dying of fever because they are forced to + live like pigs, and they are already sick with starvation. A healthy man + like yourself would be in no more danger than you would be in walking + through the wards of a New York hospital.” + </p> + <p> + Senator Stanton turned in his armchair, and held up his hand impressively. + </p> + <p> + “If I were to tell them the things you have told me,” he said warningly, + “if I were to say I have seen such things—American property in + flames, American interests ruined, and that five times as many women and + children have died of fever and starvation in three months in Cuba as the + Sultan has massacred in Armenia in three years—it would mean war + with Spain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Arkwright. + </p> + <p> + Stanton shrugged his shoulders and sank back again in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “It would either mean war,” Arkwright went on, “or it might mean the + sending of the Red Cross army to Cuba. It went to Constantinople, five + thousand miles away, to help the Armenian Christians—why has it + waited three years to go eighty miles to feed and clothe the Cuban women + and children? It is like sending help to a hungry peasant in Russia while + a man dies on your doorstep.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the senator, rising, “I will let you know to-morrow. If it is + the right thing to do, and if I can do it, of course it must be done. We + start from Tampa, you say? I know the presidents of all of those roads and + they’ll probably give me a private car for the trip down. Shall we take + any newspaper men with us, or shall I wait until I get back and be + interviewed? What do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I would wait until my return,” Arkwright answered, his eyes glowing with + the hope the senator’s words had inspired, “and then speak to a + mass-meeting here and in Boston and in Chicago. Three speeches will be + enough. Before you have finished your last one the American warships will + be in the harbor of Havana.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, youth, youth!” said the senator, smiling gravely, “it is no light + responsibility to urge a country into war.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no light responsibility,” Arkwright answered, “to know you have the + chance to save the lives of thousands of little children and helpless + women and to let the chance pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, that is quite true,” said the senator. “Well, good-morning. I + shall let you know to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Young Livingstone went down in the elevator with Arkwright, and when they + had reached the sidewalk stood regarding him for a moment in silence. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t count too much on Stanton, you know,” he said kindly; “he has + a way of disappointing people.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he can never disappoint me,” Arkwright answered confidently, “no + matter how much I expected. Besides, I have already heard him speak.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mean that, I don’t mean he is disappointing as a speaker. Stanton + is a great orator, I think. Most of those Southerners are, and he’s the + only real orator I ever heard. But what I mean is, that he doesn’t go into + things impulsively; he first considers himself, and then he considers + every other side of the question before he commits himself to it. Before + he launches out on a popular wave he tries to find out where it is going + to land him. He likes the sort of popular wave that carries him along with + it where every one can see him; he doesn’t fancy being hurled up on the + beach with his mouth full of sand.” + </p> + <p> + “You are saying that he is selfish, self-seeking?” Arkwright demanded with + a challenge in his voice. “I thought you were his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is selfish, and yes, I am his friend,” the young man answered, + smiling; “at least, he seems willing to be mine. I am saying nothing + against him that I have not said to him. If you’ll come back with me up + the elevator I’ll tell him he’s a self-seeker and selfish, and with no + thought above his own interests. He won’t mind. He’d say I cannot + comprehend his motives. Why, you’ve only to look at his record. When the + Venezuelan message came out he attacked the President and declared he was + trying to make political capital and to drag us into war, and that what we + wanted was arbitration; but when the President brought out the Arbitration + Treaty he attacked that too in the Senate and destroyed it. Why? Not + because he had convictions, but because the President had refused a + foreign appointment to a friend of his in the South. He has been a free + silver man for the last ten years, he comes from a free silver state, and + the members of the legislature that elected him were all for silver, but + this last election his Wall Street friends got hold of him and worked on + his feelings, and he repudiated his party, his state, and his constituents + and came out for gold.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but surely,” Arkwright objected, “that took courage? To own that + for ten years you had been wrong, and to come out for the right at the + last.” + </p> + <p> + Livingstone stared and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all a question of + motives,” he said indifferently. “I don’t want to shatter your idol; I + only want to save you from counting too much on him.” + </p> + <p> + When Arkwright called on the morrow Senator Stanton was not at home, and + the day following he was busy, and could give him only a brief interview. + There were previous engagements and other difficulties in the way of his + going which he had not foreseen, he said, and he feared he should have to + postpone his visit to Cuba indefinitely. He asked if Mr. Arkwright would + be so kind as to call again within a week; he would then be better able to + give him a definite answer. + </p> + <p> + Arkwright left the apartment with a sensation of such keen disappointment + that it turned him ill and dizzy. He felt that the great purpose of his + life was being played with and put aside. But he had not selfish + resentment on his own account; he was only the more determined to + persevere. He considered new arguments and framed new appeals; and one + moment blamed himself bitterly for having foolishly discouraged the + statesman by too vivid pictures of the horrors he might encounter, and the + next, questioned if he had not been too practical and so failed because he + had not made the terrible need of immediate help his sole argument. Every + hour wasted in delay meant, as he knew, the sacrifice of many lives, and + there were other, more sordid and more practical, reasons for speedy + action. For his supply of money was running low and there was now barely + enough remaining to carry him through the month of travel he had planned + to take at Stanton’s side. What would happen to him when that momentous + trip was over was of no consequence. He would have done the work as far as + his small share in it lay, he would have set in motion a great power that + was to move Congress and the people of the United States to action. If he + could but do that, what became of him counted for nothing. + </p> + <p> + But at the end of the week his fears and misgivings were scattered + gloriously and a single line from the senator set his heart leaping and + brought him to his knees in gratitude and thanksgiving. On returning one + afternoon to the mean lodging into which he had moved to save his money, + he found a telegram from Stanton and he tore it open trembling between + hope and fear. + </p> + <p> + “Have arranged to leave for Tampa with you Monday, at midnight” it read. + “Call for me at ten o’clock same evening.—STANTON.” + </p> + <p> + Arkwright read the message three times. There was a heavy, suffocating + pressure at his heart as though it had ceased beating. He sank back limply + upon the edge of his bed and clutching the piece of paper in his two hands + spoke the words aloud triumphantly as though to assure himself that they + were true. Then a flood of unspeakable relief, of happiness and gratitude, + swept over him, and he turned and slipped to the floor, burying his face + in the pillow, and wept out his thanks upon his knees. + </p> + <p> + A man so deeply immersed in public affairs as was Stanton and with such a + multiplicity of personal interests, could not prepare to absent himself + for a month without his intention becoming known, and on the day when he + was to start for Tampa the morning newspapers proclaimed the fact that he + was about to visit Cuba. They gave to his mission all the importance and + display that Arkwright had foretold. Some of the newspapers stated that he + was going as a special commissioner of the President to study and report; + others that he was acting in behalf of the Cuban legation in Washington + and had plenipotentiary powers. Opposition organs suggested that he was + acting in the interests of the sugar trust, and his own particular organ + declared that it was his intention to free Cuba at the risk of his own + freedom, safety, and even life. + </p> + <p> + The Spanish minister in Washington sent a cable for publication to Madrid, + stating that a distinguished American statesman was about to visit Cuba, + to investigate, and, later, to deny the truth of the disgraceful libels + published concerning the Spanish officials on the island by the papers of + the United States. At the same time he cabled in cipher to the + captain-general in Havana to see that the distinguished statesman was + closely spied upon from the moment of his arrival until his departure, and + to place on the “suspect” list all Americans and Cubans who ventured to + give him any information. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon papers enlarged on the importance of the visit and on the + good that would surely come of it. They told that Senator Stanton had + refused to be interviewed or to disclose the object of his journey. But it + was enough, they said, that some one in authority was at last to seek out + the truth, and added that no one would be listened to with greater respect + than would the Southern senator. On this all the editorial writers were + agreed. + </p> + <p> + The day passed drearily for Arkwright. Early in the morning he packed his + valise and paid his landlord, and for the remainder of the day walked the + streets or sat in the hotel corridor waiting impatiently for each fresh + edition of the papers. In them he read the signs of the great upheaval of + popular feeling that was to restore peace and health and plenty to the + island for which he had given his last three years of energy and life. + </p> + <p> + He was trembling with excitement, as well as with the cold, when at ten + o’clock precisely he stood at Senator Stanton’s door. He had forgotten to + eat his dinner, and the warmth of the dimly lit hall and the odor of rich + food which was wafted from an inner room touched his senses with + tantalizing comfort. + </p> + <p> + “The senator says you are to come this way, sir,” the servant directed. He + took Arkwright’s valise from his hand and parted the heavy curtains that + hid the dining-room, and Arkwright stepped in between them and then + stopped in some embarrassment. He found himself in the presence of a + number of gentlemen seated at a long dinner-table, who turned their heads + as he entered and peered at him through the smoke that floated in light + layers above the white cloth. The dinner had been served, but the + senator’s guests still sat with their chairs pushed back from a table + lighted by candles under yellow shades, and covered with beautiful flowers + and with bottles of varied sizes in stands of quaint and intricate design. + Senator Stanton’s tall figure showed dimly through the smoke, and his deep + voice hailed Arkwright cheerily from the farther end of the room. “This + way, Mr. Arkwright,” he said. “I have a chair waiting for you here.” He + grasped Arkwright’s hand warmly and pulled him into the vacant place at + his side. An elderly gentleman on Arkwright’s other side moved to make + more room for him and shoved a liqueur glass toward him with a friendly + nod and pointed at an open box of cigars. He was a fine-looking man, and + Arkwright noticed that he was regarding him with a glance of the keenest + interest. All of those at the table were men of twice Arkwright’s age, + except Livingstone, whom he recognized and who nodded to him pleasantly + and at the same time gave an order to a servant, pointing at Arkwright as + he did so. Some of the gentlemen wore their business suits, and one + opposite Arkwright was still in his overcoat, and held his hat in his + hand. These latter seemed to have arrived after the dinner had begun, for + they formed a second line back of those who had places at the table; they + all seemed to know one another and were talking with much vivacity and + interest. + </p> + <p> + Stanton did not attempt to introduce Arkwright to his guests individually, + but said: “Gentlemen, this is Mr. Arkwright, of whom I have been telling + you, the young gentleman who has done such magnificent work for the cause + of Cuba.” Those who caught Arkwright’s eye nodded to him, and others + raised their glasses at him, but with a smile that he could not + understand. It was as though they all knew something concerning him of + which he was ignorant. He noted that the faces of some were strangely + familiar, and he decided that he must have seen their portraits in the + public prints. After he had introduced Arkwright, the senator drew his + chair slightly away from him and turned in what seemed embarrassment to + the man on his other side. The elderly gentleman next to Arkwright filled + his glass, a servant placed a small cup of coffee at his elbow, and he lit + a cigar and looked about him. + </p> + <p> + “You must find this weather very trying after the tropics,” his neighbor + said. + </p> + <p> + Arkwright assented cordially. The brandy was flowing through his veins and + warming him; he forgot that he was hungry, and the kind, interested + glances of those about him set him at his ease. It was a propitious start, + he thought, a pleasant leave-taking for the senator and himself, full of + good will and good wishes. + </p> + <p> + He turned toward Stanton and waited until he had ceased speaking. + </p> + <p> + “The papers have begun well, haven’t they?” he asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + He had spoken in a low voice, almost in a whisper, but those about the + table seemed to have heard him, for there was silence instantly and when + he glanced up he saw the eyes of all turned upon him and he noticed on + their faces the same smile he had seen there when he entered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Stanton answered constrainedly. “Yes, I—” he lowered his + voice, but the silence still continued. Stanton had his eyes fixed on the + table, but now he frowned and half rose from his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak with you, Arkwright,” he said. “Suppose we go into the + next room. I’ll be back in a moment,” he added, nodding to the others. + </p> + <p> + But the man on his right removed his cigar from his lips and said in an + undertone, “No, sit down, stay where you are;” and the elderly gentleman + at Arkwright’s side laid his hand detainingly on his arm. “Oh, you won’t + take Mr. Arkwright away from us, Stanton?” he asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Stanton shrugged his shoulders and sat down again, and there was a + moment’s pause. It was broken by the man in the overcoat, who laughed. + </p> + <p> + “He’s paying you a compliment, Mr. Arkwright,” he said. He pointed with + his cigar to the gentleman at Arkwright’s side. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” Arkwright answered doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a compliment to your eloquence—he’s afraid to leave you alone + with the senator. Livingstone’s been telling us that you are a better + talker than Stanton.” Arkwright turned a troubled countenance toward the + men about the table, and then toward Livingstone, but that young man had + his eyes fixed gravely on the glasses before him and did not raise them. + </p> + <p> + Arkwright felt a sudden, unreasonable fear of the circle of + strong-featured, serene and confident men about him. They seemed to be + making him the subject of a jest, to be enjoying something among + themselves of which he was in ignorance, but which concerned him closely. + He turned a white face toward Stanton. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean,” he began piteously, “that—that you are not going? + Is that it—tell me—is that what you wanted to say?” + </p> + <p> + Stanton shifted in his chair and muttered some words between his lips, + then turned toward Arkwright and spoke quite clearly and distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry, Mr. Arkwright,” he said, “but I am afraid I’ll have to + disappoint you. Reasons I cannot now explain have arisen which make my + going impossible—quite impossible,” he added firmly—“not only + now, but later,” he went on quickly, as Arkwright was about to interrupt + him. + </p> + <p> + Arkwright made no second attempt to speak. He felt the muscles of his face + working and the tears coming to his eyes, and to hide his weakness he + twisted in his chair and sat staring ahead of him with his back turned to + the table. He heard Livingstone’s voice break the silence with some + hurried question, and immediately his embarrassment was hidden in a murmur + of answers and the moving of glasses as the men shifted in their chairs + and the laughter and talk went on as briskly as before. Arkwright saw a + sideboard before him and a servant arranging some silver on one of the + shelves. He watched the man do this with a concentrated interest as though + the dull, numbed feeling in his brain caught at the trifle in order to put + off, as long as possible, the consideration of the truth. + </p> + <p> + And then beyond the sideboard and the tapestry on the wall above it, he + saw the sun shining down upon the island of Cuba, he saw the royal palms + waving and bending, the dusty columns of Spanish infantry crawling along + the white roads and leaving blazing huts and smoking cane-fields in their + wake; he saw skeletons of men and women seeking for food among the refuse + of the street; he heard the order given to the firing squad, the splash of + the bullets as they scattered the plaster on the prison wall, and he saw a + kneeling figure pitch forward on its face, with a useless bandage tied + across its sightless eyes. + </p> + <p> + Senator Stanton brought him back with a sharp shake of the shoulder. He + had also turned his back on the others, and was leaning forward with his + elbows on his knees. He spoke rapidly, and in a voice only slightly raised + above a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I am more than sorry, Arkwright,” he said earnestly. “You mustn’t blame + me altogether. I have had a hard time of it this afternoon. I wanted to + go. I really wanted to go. The thing appealed to me, it touched me, it + seemed as if I owed it to myself to do it. But they were too many for me,” + he added with a backward toss of his head toward the men around his table. + </p> + <p> + “If the papers had not told on me I could have got well away,” he went on + in an eager tone, “but as soon as they read of it, they came here straight + from their offices. You know who they are, don’t you?” he asked, and even + in his earnestness there was an added touch of importance in his tone as + he spoke the name of his party’s leader, of men who stood prominently in + Wall Street and who were at the head of great trusts. + </p> + <p> + “You see how it is,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “They have + enormous interests at stake. They said I would drag them into war, that I + would disturb values, that the business interests of the country would + suffer. I’m under obligations to most of them, they have advised me in + financial matters, and they threatened—they threatened to make it + unpleasant for me.” His voice hardened and he drew in his breath quickly, + and laughed. “You wouldn’t understand if I were to tell you. It’s rather + involved. And after all, they may be right, agitation may be bad for the + country. And your party leader after all is your party leader, isn’t he, + and if he says ‘no’ what are you to do? My sympathies are just as keen for + these poor women and children as ever, but as these men say, ‘charity + begins at home,’ and we mustn’t do anything to bring on war prices again, + or to send stocks tumbling about our heads, must we?” He leaned back in + his chair again and sighed. “Sympathy is an expensive luxury, I find,” he + added. + </p> + <p> + Arkwright rose stiffly and pushed Stanton away from him with his hand. He + moved like a man coming out of a dream. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk to me like that,” he said in a low voice. The noise about the + table ended on the instant, but Arkwright did not notice that it had + ceased. “You know I don’t understand that,” he went on; “what does it + matter to me!” He put his hand up to the side of his face and held it + there, looking down at Stanton. He had the dull, heavy look in his eyes of + a man who has just come through an operation under some heavy drug. “‘Wall + Street,’ ‘trusts,’ ‘party leaders,’” he repeated, “what are they to me? + The words don’t reach me, they have lost their meaning, it is a language I + have forgotten, thank God!” he added. He turned and moved his eyes around + the table, scanning the faces of the men before him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are twelve to one,” he said at last, still speaking dully and in + a low voice, as though he were talking to himself. “You have won a noble + victory, gentlemen. I congratulate you. But I do not blame you, we are all + selfish and self-seeking. I thought I was working only for Cuba, but I was + working for myself, just as you are. I wanted to feel that it was I who + had helped to bring relief to that plague-spot, that it was through my + efforts the help had come. Yes, if he had done as I asked, I suppose I + would have taken the credit.” + </p> + <p> + He swayed slightly, and to steady himself caught at the back of his chair. + But at the same moment his eyes glowed fiercely and he held himself erect + again. He pointed with his finger at the circle of great men who sat + looking up at him in curious silence. + </p> + <p> + “You are like a ring of gamblers around a gaming table,” he cried wildly, + “who see nothing but the green cloth and the wheel and the piles of money + before them, who forget in watching the money rise and fall, that outside + the sun is shining, that human beings are sick and suffering, that men are + giving their lives for an idea, for a sentiment, for a flag. You are the + money-changers in the temple of this great republic and the day will come, + I pray to God, when you will be scourged and driven out with whips. Do you + think you can form combines and deals that will cheat you into heaven? Can + your ‘trusts’ save your souls—is ‘Wall Street’ the strait and narrow + road to salvation?” + </p> + <p> + The men about the table leaned back and stared at Arkwright in as great + amazement as though he had violently attempted an assault upon their + pockets, or had suddenly gone mad in their presence. Some of them frowned, + and others appeared not to have heard, and others smiled grimly and waited + for him to continue as though they were spectators at a play. + </p> + <p> + The political leader broke the silence with a low aside to Stanton. “Does + the gentleman belong to the Salvation Army?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Arkwright whirled about and turned upon him fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Old gods give way to new gods,” he cried. “Here is your brother. I am + speaking for him. Do you ever think of him? How dare you sneer at me?” he + cried. “You can crack your whip over that man’s head and turn him from + what in his heart and conscience he knows is right; you can crack your + whip over the men who call themselves free-born American citizens and who + have made you their boss—sneer at them if you like, but you have no + collar on my neck. If you are a leader, why don’t you lead your people to + what is good and noble? Why do you stop this man in the work God sent him + here to do? You would make a party hack of him, a political prostitute, + something lower than the woman who walks the streets. She sells her body—this + man is selling his soul.” + </p> + <p> + He turned, trembling and quivering, and shook his finger above the + upturned face of the senator. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done with your talents, Stanton?” he cried. “What have you + done with your talents?” + </p> + <p> + The man in the overcoat struck the table before him with his fist so that + the glasses rang. + </p> + <p> + “By God,” he laughed, “I call him a better speaker than Stanton! + Livingstone’s right, he IS better than Stanton—but he lacks + Stanton’s knack of making himself popular,” he added. He looked around the + table inviting approbation with a smile, but no one noticed him, nor spoke + to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + Arkwright heard the words dully and felt that he was being mocked. He + covered his face with his hands and stood breathing brokenly; his body was + still trembling with an excitement he could not master. + </p> + <p> + Stanton rose from his chair and shook him by the shoulder. “Are you mad, + Arkwright?” he cried. “You have no right to insult my guests or me. Be + calm—control yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it matter what I say?” Arkwright went on desperately. “I am + mad. Yes, that is it, I am mad. They have won and I have lost, and it + drove me beside myself. I counted on you. I knew that no one else could + let my people go. But I’ll not trouble you again. I wish you good-night, + sir, and good-bye. If I have been unjust, you must forget it.” + </p> + <p> + He turned sharply, but Stanton placed a detaining hand on his shoulder. + “Wait,” he commanded querulously; “where are you going? Will you, still—?” + </p> + <p> + Arkwright bowed his head. “Yes,” he answered. “I have but just time now to + catch our train—my train, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at Stanton and taking his hand in both of his, drew the man + toward him. All the wildness and intolerance in his manner had passed, and + as he raised his eyes they were full of a firm resolve. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said simply; “there is yet time. Leave these people behind you. + What can you answer when they ask what have you done with your talents?” + </p> + <p> + “Good God, Arkwright,” the senator exclaimed angrily, pulling his hand + away; “don’t talk like a hymn-book, and don’t make another scene. What you + ask is impossible. Tell me what I can do to help you in any other way, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” repeated the young man firmly. + </p> + <p> + “The world may judge you by what you do to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Stanton looked at the boy for a brief moment with a strained and eager + scrutiny, and then turned away abruptly and shook his head in silence, and + Arkwright passed around the table and on out of the room. + </p> + <p> + A month later, as the Southern senator was passing through the + reading-room of the Union Club, Livingstone beckoned to him, and handing + him an afternoon paper pointed at a paragraph in silence. + </p> + <p> + The paragraph was dated Sagua la Grande, and read: + </p> + <p> + “The body of Henry Arkwright, an American civil engineer, was brought into + Sagua to-day by a Spanish column. It was found lying in a road three miles + beyond the line of forts. Arkwright was surprised by a guerilla force + while attempting to make his way to the insurgent camp, and on resisting + was shot. The body has been handed over to the American consul for + interment. It is badly mutilated.” + </p> + <p> + Stanton lowered the paper and stood staring out of the window at the + falling snow and the cheery lights and bustling energy of the avenue. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” he said, “he wanted so much to help them. And he didn’t + accomplish anything, did he?” + </p> + <p> + Livingstone stared at the older man and laughed shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t know,” he said. “He died. Some of us only live.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VAGRANT + </h2> + <p> + His Excellency Sir Charles Greville, K. C. M. G., Governor of the Windless + Islands, stood upon the veranda of Government House surveying the new day + with critical and searching eyes. Sir Charles had been so long absolute + monarch of the Windless Isles that he had assumed unconsciously a mental + attitude of suzerainty over even the glittering waters of the Caribbean + Sea, and the coral reefs under the waters, and the rainbow skies that + floated above them. But on this particular morning not even the critical + eye of the Governor could distinguish a single flaw in the tropical + landscape before him. + </p> + <p> + The lawn at his feet ran down to meet the dazzling waters of the bay, the + blue waters of the bay ran to meet a great stretch of absinthe green, the + green joined a fairy sky of pink and gold and saffron. Islands of coral + floated on the sea of absinthe, and derelict clouds of mother-of-pearl + swung low above them, starting from nowhere and going nowhere, but + drifting beautifully, like giant soap-bubbles of light and color. Where + the lawn touched the waters of the bay the cocoanut-palms reached their + crooked lengths far up into the sunshine, and as the sea-breeze stirred + their fronds they filled the hot air with whispers and murmurs like the + fluttering of many fans. Nature smiled boldly upon the Governor, confident + in her bountiful beauty, as though she said, “Surely you cannot but be + pleased with me to-day.” And, as though in answer, the critical and + searching glance of Sir Charles relaxed. + </p> + <p> + The crunching of the gravel and the rattle of the sentry’s musket at + salute recalled him to his high office and to the duties of the morning. + He waved his hand, and, as though it were a wand, the sentry moved again, + making his way to the kitchen-garden, and so around Government House and + back to the lawn-tennis court, maintaining in his solitary pilgrimage the + dignity of her Majesty’s representative, as well as her Majesty’s power + over the Windless Isles. + </p> + <p> + The Governor smiled slightly, with the ease of mind of one who finds all + things good. Supreme authority, surroundings of endless beauty, the + respectful, even humble, deference of his inferiors, and never even an + occasional visit from a superior, had in four years lowered him into a bed + of ease and self-satisfaction. He was cut off from the world, and yet of + it. Each month there came, via Jamaica, the three weeks’ old copy of The + Weekly Times; he subscribed to Mudie’s Colonial Library; and from the + States he had imported an American lawn-mower, the mechanism of which no + one as yet understood. Within his own borders he had created a healthy, + orderly seaport out of what had been a sink of fever and a refuge for all + the ne’er-do-wells and fugitive revolutionists of Central America. + </p> + <p> + He knew, as he sat each evening on his veranda, looking across the bay, + that in the world beyond the pink and gold sunset men were still panting, + struggling, and starving; crises were rising and passing; strikes and + panics, wars and the rumors of wars, swept from continent to continent; a + plague crept through India; a filibuster with five hundred men at his back + crossed an imaginary line and stirred the world from Cape Town to London; + Emperors were crowned; the good Queen celebrated the longest reign; and a + captain of artillery imprisoned in a swampy island in the South Atlantic + caused two hemispheres to clamor for his rescue, and lit a race war that + stretched from Algiers to the boulevards. + </p> + <p> + And yet, at the Windless Isles, all these happenings seemed to Sir Charles + like the morning’s memory of a dream. For these things never crossed the + ring of the coral reefs; he saw them only as pictures in an illustrated + paper a month old. And he was pleased to find that this was so. He was + sufficient to himself, with his own responsibilities and social duties and + public works. + </p> + <p> + He was a man in authority, who said to others, “Come!” and “Go!” Under him + were commissioners, and under the commissioners district inspectors and + boards of education and of highways. For the better health of the colony + he had planted trees that sucked the malaria from the air; for its better + morals he had substituted as a Sunday amusement cricket-matches for + cock-fights; and to keep it at peace he had created a local constabulary + of native negroes, and had dressed them in the cast-off uniforms of London + policemen. His handiwork was everywhere, and his interest was all sunk in + his handiwork. The days passed gorgeous with sunshine, the nights breathed + with beauty. It was an existence of leisurely occupation, and one that + promised no change, and he was content. + </p> + <p> + As it was Thursday, the Council met that morning, and some questions of + moment to the colony were to be brought up for consideration. The question + of the dog-tax was one which perplexed Sir Charles most particularly. The + two Councillors elected by the people and the three appointed by the crown + had disagreed as to this tax. Of the five hundred British subjects at the + seaport, all but ten were owners of dogs, and it had occurred to Sassoon, + the chemist, that a tax of half-a-crown a year on each of these dogs would + meet the expense of extending the oyster-shell road to the new + cricket-grounds. To this Snellgrove, who held the contract for the + narrow-gauge railroad, agreed; but the three crown Councillors opposed the + tax vigorously, on the ground that as scavengers alone the dogs were a + boon to the colony and should be encouraged. The fact that each of these + gentlemen owned not only one, but several dogs of high pedigree made their + position one of great delicacy. + </p> + <p> + There was no way by which the Governor could test the popular will in the + matter, except through his secretary, Mr. Clarges, who, at the + cricket-match between the local eleven and the officers and crew of H. M. + S. Partridge, had been informed by the other owners of several + fox-terriers that, in their opinion, the tax was a piece of “condemned + tommy-rot.” From this the Governor judged that it would not prove a + popular measure. As he paced the veranda, drawing deliberately on his + cigar, and considering to which party he should give the weight of his + final support, his thoughts were disturbed by the approach of a stranger, + who advanced along the gravel walk, guarded on either side by one of the + local constabulary. The stranger was young and of poor appearance. His + bare feet were bound in a pair of the rope sandals worn by the natives, + his clothing was of torn and soiled drill, and he fanned his face + nonchalantly with a sombrero of battered and shapeless felt. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles halted in his walk, and holding his cigar behind his back, + addressed himself to the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “A vagrant?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The words seemed to bear some amusing significance to the stranger, for + his face lit instantly with a sweet and charming smile, and while he + turned to hear the sergeant’s reply, he regarded him with a kindly and + affectionate interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor turned to the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the law of this colony regarding vagrants?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not,” the young man answered. His tone was politely curious, and + suggested that he would like to be further informed as to the local + peculiarities of a foreign country. + </p> + <p> + “After two weeks’ residence,” the Governor recited, impressively, “all + able-bodied persons who will not work are put to work or deported. Have + you made any effort to find work?” + </p> + <p> + Again the young man smiled charmingly. He shook his head and laughed. “Oh + dear no,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The laugh struck the Governor as impertinent. + </p> + <p> + “Then you must leave by the next mail-steamer, if you have any money to + pay your passage, or, if you have no money, you must go to work on the + roads. Have you any money?” + </p> + <p> + “If I had, I wouldn’t—be a vagrant,” the young man answered. His + voice was low and singularly sweet. It seemed to suit the indolence of his + attitude and the lazy, inconsequent smile. “I called on our consular agent + here,” he continued, leisurely, “to write a letter home for money, but he + was disgracefully drunk, so I used his official note-paper to write to the + State Department about him, instead.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor’s deepest interest was aroused. The American consular agent + was one of the severest trials he was forced to endure. + </p> + <p> + “You are not a British subject, then? Ah, I see—and—er—your + representative was unable to assist you?” + </p> + <p> + “He was drunk,” the young man repeated, placidly. “He has been drunk ever + since I have been here, particularly in the mornings.” + </p> + <p> + He halted, as though the subject had lost interest for him, and gazed + pleasantly at the sunny bay and up at the moving palms. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the Governor, as though he had not been interrupted, “as you + have no means of support, you will help support the colony until you can + earn money to leave it. That will do, sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + The young man placed his hat upon his head and turned to move away, but at + the first step he swayed suddenly and caught at the negro’s shoulder, + clasping his other hand across his eyes. The sergeant held him by the + waist, and looked up at the Governor with some embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “The young gentleman has not been well, Sir Charles,” he said, + apologetically. + </p> + <p> + The stranger straightened himself up and smiled vaguely. “I’m all right,” + he murmured. “Sun’s too hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said the Governor. + </p> + <p> + He observed the stranger more closely. He noticed now that beneath the tan + his face was delicate and finely cut, and that his yellow hair clung + closely to a well-formed head. + </p> + <p> + “He seems faint. Has he had anything to eat?” asked the Governor. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant grinned guiltily. “Yes, Sir Charles; we’ve been feeding him + at the barracks. It’s fever, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was not unacquainted with fallen gentlemen, “beach-combers,” + “remittance men,” and vagrants who had known better days, and there had + been something winning in this vagrant’s smile, and, moreover, he had + reported that thorn in his flesh, the consular agent, to the proper + authorities. + </p> + <p> + He conceived an interest in a young man who, though with naked feet, did + not hesitate to correspond with his Minister of Foreign Affairs. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been ill?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man looked up from where he had sunk on the steps, and roused + himself with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve had a touch of + Chagres ever since I was on the Isthmus. I was at work there on the + railroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you come here from Colon?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I worked up the Pacific side. I was clerking with Rossner Brothers at + Amapala for a while, because I speak a little German, and then I footed it + over to Puerto Cortez and got a job with the lottery people. They gave me + twenty dollars a month gold for rolling the tickets, and I put it all in + the drawing, and won as much as ten.” He laughed, and sitting erect, drew + from his pocket a roll of thin green papers. “These are for the next + drawing,” he said. “Have some?” he added. He held them towards the negro + sergeant, who, under the eye of the Governor, resisted, and then spread + the tickets on his knee like a hand at cards. “I stand to win a lot with + these,” he said, with a cheerful sigh. “You see, until the list’s + published I’m prospectively worth twenty thousand dollars. And,” he added, + “I break stones in the sun.” He rose unsteadily, and saluted the Governor + with a nod. “Good-morning, sir,” he said, “and thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” Sir Charles commanded. A new form of punishment had suggested + itself, in which justice was tempered with mercy. “Can you work one of + your American lawn-mowers?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man laughed delightedly. “I never tried,” he said, “but I’ve + seen it done.” + </p> + <p> + “If you’ve been ill, it would be murder to put you on the shell road.” The + Governor’s dignity relaxed into a smile. “I don’t desire international + complications,” he said. “Sergeant, take this—him—to the + kitchen, and tell Corporal Mallon to give him that American lawn-mowing + machine. Possibly he may understand its mechanism. Mallon only cuts holes + in the turf with it.” And he waved his hand in dismissal, and as the three + men moved away he buried himself again in the perplexities of the dog-tax. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the deliberations of the Council were disturbed by a + loud and persistent rattle, like the whir of a Maxim gun, which proved, on + investigation, to arise from the American lawn-mower. The vagrant was + propelling it triumphantly across the lawn, and gazing down at it with the + same fond pride with which a nursemaid leans over the perambulator to + observe her lusty and gurgling charge. + </p> + <p> + The Councillors had departed, Sir Charles was thinking of breakfast, the + Maxim-like lawn-mower still irritated the silent hush of midday, when from + the waters of the inner harbor there came suddenly the sharp report of a + saluting gun and the rush of falling anchor-chains. There was still a week + to pass before the mail-steamer should arrive, and H. M. S. Partridge had + departed for Nassau. Besides these ships, no other vessel had skirted the + buoys of the bay in eight long smiling months. Mr. Clarges, the secretary, + with an effort to appear calm, and the orderly, suffocated with the news, + entered through separate doors at the same instant. + </p> + <p> + The secretary filed his report first. “A yacht’s just anchored in the bay, + Sir Charles,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The orderly’s face fell. He looked aggrieved. “An American yacht,” he + corrected. + </p> + <p> + “And much larger than the Partridge,” continued the secretary. + </p> + <p> + The orderly took a hasty glance back over his shoulder. “She has her + launch lowered already, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Outside the whir of the lawn-mower continued undisturbed. Sir Charles + reached for his marine-glass, and the three men hurried to the veranda. + </p> + <p> + “It looks like a man-of-war,” said Sir Charles. “No,” he added, adjusting + the binocular; “she’s a yacht. She flies the New York Yacht Club pennant—now + she’s showing the owner’s absent pennant. He must have left in the launch. + He’s coming ashore now.” + </p> + <p> + “He seems in a bit of a hurry,” growled Mr. Clarges. + </p> + <p> + “Those Americans always—” murmured Sir Charles from behind the + binocular. He did not quite know that he enjoyed this sudden onslaught + upon the privacy of his harbor and port. + </p> + <p> + It was in itself annoying, and he was further annoyed to find that it + could in the least degree disturb his poise. + </p> + <p> + The launch was growing instantly larger, like an express train approaching + a station at full speed; her flags flew out as flat as pieces of painted + tin; her bits of brass-work flashed like fire. Already the ends of the + wharves were white with groups of natives. + </p> + <p> + “You might think he was going to ram the town,” suggested the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say,” he exclaimed, in remonstrance, “he’s making in for your + private wharf.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor was rearranging the focus of the glass with nervous fingers. + “I believe,” he said, “no—yes—upon my word, there are—there + are ladies in that launch!” + </p> + <p> + “Ladies, sir!” The secretary threw a hasty glance at the binocular, but it + was in immediate use. + </p> + <p> + The clatter of the lawn-mower ceased suddenly, and the relief of its + silence caused the Governor to lower his eyes. He saw the lawn-mower lying + prostrate on the grass. The vagrant had vanished. + </p> + <p> + There was a sharp tinkle of bells, and the launch slipped up to the wharf + and halted as softly as a bicycle. A man in a yachting-suit jumped from + her, and making some laughing speech to the two women in the stern, walked + briskly across the lawn, taking a letter from his pocket as he came. Sir + Charles awaited him gravely; the occupants of the launch had seen him, and + it was too late to retreat. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles Greville, I believe,” said the yachtsman. He bowed, and ran + lightly up the steps. “I am Mr. Robert Collier, from New York,” he said. + “I have a letter to you from your ambassador at Washington. If you’ll + pardon me, I’ll present it in person. I had meant to leave it, but seeing + you—” He paused, and gave the letter in his hand to Sir Charles, who + waved him towards his library. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles scowled at the letter through his monocle, and then shook + hands with his visitor. “I am very glad to see you, Mr. Collier,” he said. + “He says here you are preparing a book on our colonies in the West + Indies.” He tapped the letter with his monocle. “I am sure I shall be most + happy to assist you with any information in my power.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am writing a book—yes,” Mr. Collier observed, doubtfully, + “but it’s a logbook. This trip I am on pleasure bent, and I also wish to + consult with you on a personal matter. However, that can wait.” He glanced + out of the windows to where the launch lay in the sun. “My wife came + ashore with me, Sir Charles,” he said, “so that in case there was a Lady + Greville, Mrs. Collier could call on her, and we could ask if you would + waive etiquette and do us the honor to dine with us to-night on the yacht—that + is, if you are not engaged.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles smiled. “There is no Lady Greville,” he said, “and I + personally do not think I am engaged elsewhere.” He paused in thought, as + though to make quite sure he was not. “No,” he added, “I have no other + engagement. I will come with pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles rose and clapped his hands for the orderly. “Possibly the + ladies will come up to the veranda?” he asked. “I cannot allow them to + remain at the end of my wharf.” He turned, and gave directions to the + orderly to bring limes and bottles of soda and ice, and led the way across + the lawn. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Collier and her friend had not explored the grounds of Government + House for over ten minutes before Sir Charles felt that many years ago he + had personally arranged their visit, that he had known them for even a + longer time, and that, now that they had finally arrived, they must never + depart. + </p> + <p> + To them there was apparently nothing on his domain which did not thrill + with delightful interest. They were as eager as two children at a + pantomime, and as unconscious. As a rule, Sir Charles had found it rather + difficult to meet the women of his colony on a path which they were + capable of treading intelligently. In fairness to them, he had always + sought out some topic in which they could take an equal part—something + connected with the conduct of children, or the better ventilation of the + new school-house and chapel. But these new-comers did not require him to + select topics of conversation; they did not even wait for him to finish + those which he himself introduced. They flitted from one end of the garden + to the other with the eagerness of two midshipmen on shore leave, and they + found something to enjoy in what seemed to the Governor the most + commonplace of things. The Zouave uniform of the sentry, the old Spanish + cannon converted into peaceful gate-posts, the aviary with its screaming + paroquets, the botanical station, and even the ice-machine were all + objects of delight. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, the interior of the famous palace, which had been sent + out complete from London, and which was wont to fill the wives of the + colonials with awe or to reduce them to whispers, for some reason failed + of its effect. But they said they “loved” the large gold V. R.’s on the + back of the Councillors’ chairs, and they exclaimed aloud over the red + leather despatch-boxes and the great seal of the colony, and the + mysterious envelopes marked “On her Majesty’s service.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it too exciting, Florence?” demanded Mrs. Collier. “This is the + table where Sir Charles sits and writes letters ‘on her Majesty’s + service,’ and presses these buttons, and war-ships spring up in perfect + shoals. Oh, Robert,” she sighed, “I do wish you had been a Governor!” + </p> + <p> + The young lady called Florence stood looking down into the great arm-chair + in front of the Governor’s table. + </p> + <p> + “May I?” she asked. She slid fearlessly in between the oak arms of the + chair and smiled about her. Afterwards Sir Charles remembered her as she + appeared at that moment with the red leather of the chair behind her, with + her gloved hands resting on the carved oak, and her head on one side, + smiling up at him. She gazed with large eyes at the blue linen envelopes, + the stiff documents in red tape, the tray of black sand, and the + goose-quill pens. + </p> + <p> + “I am now the Countess Zika,” she announced; “no, I am Diana of the + Crossways, and I mean to discover a state secret and sell it to the Daily + Telegraph. Sir Charles,” she demanded, “if I press this electric button is + war declared anywhere, or what happens?” + </p> + <p> + “That second button,” said Sir Charles, after deliberate scrutiny, “is the + one which communicates with the pantry.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor would not consider their returning to the yacht for luncheon. + </p> + <p> + “You might decide to steam away as suddenly as you came,” he said, + gallantly, “and I cannot take that chance. This is Bachelor’s Hall, so you + must pardon my people if things do not go very smoothly.” He himself led + them to the great guest-chamber, where there had not been a guest for many + years, and he noticed, as though for the first time, that the halls + through which they passed were bare, and that the floor was littered with + unpacked boxes and gun-cases. He also observed for the first time that + maps of the colony, with the coffee-plantations and mahogany belt marked + in different inks, were not perhaps so decorative as pictures and mirrors + and family portraits. And he could have wished that the native servants + had not stared so admiringly at the guests, nor directed each other in + such aggressive whispers. On those other occasions, when the wives of the + Councillors came to the semi-annual dinners, the native servants had + seemed adequate to all that was required of them. He recollected with a + flush that in the town these semi-annual dinners were described as + banquets. He wondered if to these visitors from the outside world it was + all equally provincial. + </p> + <p> + But their enjoyment was apparently unfeigned and generous. It was evident + that they had known each other for many years, yet they received every + remark that any of them made as though it had been pronounced by a new and + interesting acquaintance. Sir Charles found it rather difficult to keep up + with the talk across the table, they changed the subject so rapidly, and + they half spoke of so many things without waiting to explain. He could not + at once grasp the fact that people who had no other position in the world + save that of observers were speaking so authoritatively of public men and + public measures. He found, to his delight, that for the first time in + several years he was not presiding at his own table, and that his guests + seemed to feel no awe of him. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the use of a yacht nowadays?” Collier was saying—“what’s the + use of a yacht, when you can go to sleep in a wagon-lit at the Gare du + Nord, and wake up at Vladivostok? And look at the time it saves; eleven + days to Gib, six to Port Said, and fifteen to Colombo—there you are, + only half-way around, and you’re already sixteen days behind the man in + the wagon-lit.” + </p> + <p> + “But nobody wants to go to Vladivostok,” said Miss Cameron, “or anywhere + else in a wagon-lit. But with a yacht you can explore out-of-the-way + places, and you meet new and interesting people. We wouldn’t have met Sir + Charles if we had waited for a wagon-lit.” She bowed her head to the + Governor, and he smiled with gratitude. He had lost Mr. Collier somewhere + in the Indian Ocean, and he was glad she had brought them back to the + Windless Isles once more. + </p> + <p> + “And again I repeat that the answer to that is, ‘Why not? said the March + Hare,’” remarked Mr. Collier, determinedly. + </p> + <p> + The answer, as an answer, did not strike Sir Charles as a very good one. + But the ladies seemed to comprehend, for Miss Cameron said: “Did I tell + you about meeting him at Oxford just a few months before his death—at + a children’s tea-party? He was so sweet and understanding with them! Two + women tried to lionize him, and he ran away and played with the children. + I was more glad to meet him than any one I can think of. Not as a + personage, you know, but because I felt grateful to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that way, distinctly,” said Mrs. Collier. “I should have felt that + way towards Mrs. Ewing more than any one else.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, ‘Jackanapes,’” remarked Collier, shortly; “a brutal assault upon + the feelings, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Some one else said it before you, Robert,” Mrs. Collier commented, + calmly. “Perhaps Sir Charles met him at Apia.” They all turned and looked + at him. He wished he could say he had met him at Apia. He did not quite + see how they had made their way from a children’s tea party at Oxford to + the South Pacific islands, but he was anxious to join in somewhere with a + clever observation. But they never seemed to settle in one place + sufficiently long for him to recollect what he knew of it. He hoped they + would get around to the west coast of Africa in time. He had been Governor + of Sierra Leone for five years. + </p> + <p> + His success that night at dinner on the yacht was far better. The others + seemed a little tired after the hours of sight-seeing to which he had + treated them, and they were content to listen. In the absence of Mr. + Clarges, who knew them word by word, he felt free to tell his three + stories of life at Sierra Leone. He took his time in the telling, and + could congratulate himself that his efforts had never been more keenly + appreciated. He felt that he was holding his own. + </p> + <p> + The night was still and warm, and while the men lingered below at the + table, the two women mounted to the deck and watched the lights of the + town as they vanished one by one and left the moon in unchallenged + possession of the harbor. For a long time Miss Cameron stood silent, + looking out across the bay at the shore and the hills beyond. A fish + splashed near them, and the sound of oars rose from the mist that floated + above the water, until they were muffled in the distance. The palms along + the shore glistened like silver, and overhead the Southern Cross shone + white against a sky of purple. The silence deepened and continued for so + long a time that Mrs. Collier felt its significance, and waited for the + girl to end it. + </p> + <p> + Miss Cameron raised her eyes to the stars and frowned. “I am not surprised + that he is content to stay here,” she said. “Are you? It is so beautiful, + so wonderfully beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Mrs. Collier made no answer. “Two years is a long time, + Florence,” she said; “and he is all I have; he is not only my only + brother, he is the only living soul who is related to me. That makes it + harder.” + </p> + <p> + The girl seemed to find some implied reproach in the speech, for she + turned and looked at her friend closely. “Do you feel it is my fault, + Alice?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The older woman shook her head. “How could it be your fault?” she + answered. “If you couldn’t love him enough to marry him, you couldn’t, + that’s all. But that is no reason why he should have hidden himself from + all of us. Even if he could not stand being near you, caring as he did, he + need not have treated me so. We have done all we can do, and Robert has + been more than fine about it. He and his agents have written to every + consul and business house in Central America, and I don’t believe there is + a city that he hasn’t visited. He has sent him money and letters to every + bank and to every post-office—” + </p> + <p> + The girl raised her head quickly. + </p> + <p> + “—but he never calls for either,” Mrs. Collier continued, “for I + know that if he had read my letters he would have come home.” + </p> + <p> + The girl lifted her head as though she were about to speak, and then + turned and walked slowly away. After a few moments she returned, and + stood, with her hands resting on the rail, looking down into the water. “I + wrote him two letters,” she said. In the silence of the night her voice + was unusually clear and distinct. “I—you make me wonder—if + they ever reached him.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Collier, with her eyes fixed upon the girl, rose slowly from her + chair and came towards her. She reached out her hand and touched Miss + Cameron on the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Florence,” she said, in a whisper, “have you—” + </p> + <p> + The girl raised her head slowly, and lowered it again. “Yes,” she + answered; “I told him to come back—to come back to me. Alice,” she + cried, “I—I begged him to come back!” She tossed her hands apart and + again walked rapidly away, leaving the older woman standing motionless. + </p> + <p> + A moment later, when Sir Charles and Mr. Collier stepped out upon the + deck, they discovered the two women standing close together, two white, + ghostly figures in the moonlight, and as they advanced towards them they + saw Mrs. Collier take the girl for an instant in her arms. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was asking Miss Cameron how long she thought an immigrant + should be made to work for his freehold allotment, when Mr. Collier and + his wife rose at the same moment and departed on separate errands. They + met most mysteriously in the shadow of the wheel-house. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Is anything wrong with Florence?” Collier asked, anxiously. + “Not homesick, is she?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Collier put her hands on her husband’s shoulders and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Wrong? No, thank Heaven! it’s as right as right can be!” she cried. + “She’s written to him to come back, but he’s never answered, and so—and + now it’s all right.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Collier gazed blankly at his wife’s upturned face. “Well, I don’t see + that,” he remonstrated. “What’s the use of her being in love with him now + when he can’t be found? What? Why didn’t she love him two years ago when + he was where you could get at him—at her house, for instance. He was + there most of his time. She would have saved a lot of trouble. However,” + he added, energetically, “this makes it absolutely necessary to find that + young man and bring him to his senses. We’ll search this place for the + next few days, and then we’ll try the mainland again. I think I’ll offer a + reward for him, and have it printed in Spanish, and paste it up in all the + plazas. We might add a line in English, ‘She has changed her mind.’ That + would bring him home, wouldn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be unfeeling, Robert,” said Mrs. Collier. + </p> + <p> + Her husband raised his eyes appealingly, and addressed himself to the + moon. “I ask you now,” he complained, “is that fair to a man who has spent + six months on muleback trying to round up a prodigal brother-in-law?” + </p> + <p> + That same evening, after the ladies had gone below, Mr. Collier asked Sir + Charles to assist him in his search for his wife’s brother, and Sir + Charles heartily promised his most active co-operation. There were several + Americans at work in the interior, he said, as overseers on the + coffee-plantations. It was possible that the runaway might be among them. + It was only that morning, Sir Charles remembered, that an American had + been at work “repairing his lawn-mower,” as he considerately expressed it. + He would send for him on the morrow. + </p> + <p> + But on the morrow the slave of the lawn-mower was reported on the list of + prisoners as “missing,” and Corporal Mallon was grieved, but refused to + consider himself responsible. Sir Charles himself had allowed the vagrant + unusual freedom, and the vagrant had taken advantage of it, and probably + escaped to the hills, or up the river to the logwood camp. + </p> + <p> + “Telegraph a description of him to Inspector Garrett,” Sir Charles + directed, “and to the heads of all up stations. And when he returns, bring + him to me.” + </p> + <p> + So great was his zeal that Sir Charles further offered to join Mr. Collier + in his search among the outlying plantations; but Mr. Collier preferred to + work alone. He accordingly set out at once, armed with letters to the + different district inspectors, and in his absence delegated to Sir Charles + the pleasant duty of caring for the wants of Miss Cameron and his wife. + Sir Charles regarded the latter as deserving of all sympathy, for Mr. + Collier, in his efforts to conceal the fact from the Governor that + Florence Cameron was responsible, or in any way concerned, in the + disappearance of the missing man, had been too mysterious. Sir Charles was + convinced that the fugitive had swindled his brother-in-law and stolen his + sister’s jewels. + </p> + <p> + The days which followed were to the Governor days and nights of strange + discoveries. He recognized that the missionaries from the great outside + world had invaded his shores and disturbed his gods and temples. Their + religion of progress and activity filled him with doubt and unrest. + </p> + <p> + “In this century,” Mr. Collier had declared, “nothing can stand still. + It’s the same with a corporation, or a country, or a man. We must either + march ahead or fall out. We can’t mark time. What?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly—certainly not,” Sir Charles had answered. But in his heart + he knew that he himself had been marking time under these soft tropical + skies while the world was pushing forward. The thought had not disturbed + him before. Now he felt guilty. He conceived a sudden intolerance, if not + contempt, for the little village of whitewashed houses, for the rafts of + mahogany and of logwood that bumped against the pier-heads, for the sacks + of coffee piled high like barricades under the corrugated zinc sheds along + the wharf. Each season it had been his pride to note the increase in these + exports. The development of the resources of his colony had been a work in + which he had felt that the Colonial Secretary took an immediate interest. + He had believed that he was one of the important wheels of the machinery + which moved the British Empire: and now, in a day, he was undeceived. It + was forced upon him that to the eyes of the outside world he was only a + greengrocer operating on a large scale; he provided the British public + with coffee for its breakfast, with drugs for its stomach, and with + strange woods for its dining-room furniture and walking-sticks. He + combated this ignominious characterization of his position indignantly. + The new arrivals certainly gave him no hint that they considered him so + lightly. This thought greatly comforted him, for he felt that in some way + he was summoning to his aid all of his assets and resources to meet an + expert and final valuation. As he ranged them before him he was disturbed + and happy to find that the value he placed upon them was the value they + would have in the eyes of a young girl—not a girl of the shy, + mother-obeying, man-worshipping English type, but a girl such as Miss + Cameron seemed to be, a girl who could understand what you were trying to + say before you said it, who could take an interest in rates of exchange + and preside at a dinner table, who was charmingly feminine and clever, and + who was respectful of herself and of others. In fact, he decided, with a + flush, that Miss Cameron herself was the young girl he had in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The question came to him in his room, the sixth night of their visit, and + he strode over to the long pier-glass and stood studying himself + critically for the first time in years. He was still a fine-looking, + well-kept man. His hair was thin, but that fact did not show; and his + waist was lost, but riding and tennis would set that right. He had means + outside of his official salary, and there was the title, such as it was. + Lady Greville the wife of the birthday knight sounded as well as Lady + Greville the marchioness. And Americans cared for these things. He doubted + whether this particular American would do so, but he was adding up all he + had to offer, and that was one of the assets. He was sure she would not be + content to remain mistress of the Windless Isles. Nor, indeed, did he + longer care to be master there, now that he had inhaled this quick, + stirring breath from the outer world. He would resign, and return and mix + with the world again. He would enter Parliament; a man so well acquainted + as himself with the Gold Coast of Africa and with the trade of the West + Indies must always be of value in the Lower House. This value would be + recognized, no doubt, and he would become at first an Under-Secretary for + the Colonies, and then, in time, Colonial Secretary and a cabinet + minister. She would like that, he thought. And after that place had been + reached, all things were possible. For years he had not dreamed such + dreams—not since he had been a clerk in the Foreign Office. They + seemed just as possible now as they had seemed real then, and just as + near. He felt it was all absolutely in his own hands. + </p> + <p> + He descended to the dining-room with the air of a man who already felt the + cares of high responsibility upon his shoulders. His head was erect and + his chest thrown forward. He was ten years younger; his manner was alert, + assured, and gracious. As he passed through the halls he was impatient of + the familiar settings of Government House; they seemed to him like the + furnishings of a hotel where he had paid his bill, and where his luggage + was lying strapped for departure in the hallway. + </p> + <p> + In his library he saw on his table a number of papers lying open waiting + for his signature, the dog-tax among the others. He smiled to remember how + important it had seemed to him in the past—in that past of indolence + and easy content. Now he was on fire to put this rekindled ambition to + work, to tell the woman who had lighted it that it was all from her and + for her, that without her he had existed, that now he had begun to live. + </p> + <p> + They had never found him so delighful{sic} as he appeared that night. He + was like a man on the eve of a holiday. He made a jest of his past + efforts; he made them see, as he now saw it for the first time, that side + of the life of the Windless Isles which was narrow and petty, even + ridiculous. He talked of big men in a big way; he criticised, and + expounded, and advanced his own theories of government and the proper + control of an empire. + </p> + <p> + Collier, who had returned from his unsuccessful search of the plantations, + shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a pity you are not in London now,” he said, sincerely. “They need + some one there who has been on the spot. They can’t direct the colonies + from what they know of them in Whitehall.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles fingered the dinner cloth nervously, and when he spoke, fixed + his eyes anxiously upon Miss Cameron. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he said, “I have been thinking of doing that very thing, of + resigning my post here and going back, entering Parliament, and all the + rest of it.” + </p> + <p> + His declaration met with a unanimous chorus of delight. Miss Cameron + nodded her head with eager approval. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I were a man, that is where I should wish to be,” she said, “at + the heart of it. Why, whatever you say in the House of Commons is heard + all over the world the next morning.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles felt the blood tingle in his pulses. He had not been so + stirred in years. Her words ran to his head like wine. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Collier raised his glass. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s to our next meeting,” he said, “on the terrace of the House of + Commons.” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Cameron interrupted. “No; to the Colonial Secretary,” she + amended. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” they assented, rising, and so drank his health, smiling down + upon him with kind, friendly glances and good-will. + </p> + <p> + “To the Colonial Secretary,” they said. Sir Charles clasped the arms of + his chair tightly with his hands; his eyes were half closed, and his lips + pressed into a grim, confident smile. He felt that a single word from her + would make all that they suggested possible. If she cared for such things, + they were hers; he had them to give; they were ready lying at her feet. He + knew that the power had always been with him, lying dormant in his heart + and brain. It had only waited for the touch of the Princess to wake it + into life. + </p> + <p> + The American visitors were to sail for the mainland the next day, but he + had come to know them so well in the brief period of their visit that he + felt he dared speak to her that same night. At least he could give her + some word that would keep him in her mind until they met again in London, + or until she had considered her answer. He could not expect her to answer + at once. She could take much time. What else had he to do now but to wait + for her answer? It was now all that made life. + </p> + <p> + Collier and his wife had left the veranda and had crossed the lawn towards + the water’s edge. The moonlight fell full upon them with all the splendor + of the tropics, and lit the night with a brilliant, dazzling radiance. + From where Miss Cameron sat on the veranda in the shadow, Sir Charles + could see only the white outline of her figure and the indolent movement + of her fan. Collier had left his wife and was returning slowly towards the + step. Sir Charles felt that if he meant to speak he must speak now, and + quickly. He rose and placed himself beside her in the shadow, and the girl + turned her head inquiringly and looked up at him. + </p> + <p> + But on the instant the hush of the night was broken by a sharp challenge, + and the sound of men’s voices raised in anger; there was the noise of a + struggle on the gravel, and from the corner of the house the two sentries + came running, dragging between them a slight figure that fought and + wrestled to be free. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles exclaimed with indignant impatience, and turning, strode + quickly to the head of the steps. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” he demanded. “What are you doing with that man? Why + did you bring him here?” + </p> + <p> + As the soldiers straightened to attention, their prisoner ceased to + struggle, and stood with his head bent on his chest. His sombrero was + pulled down low across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “He was crawling through the bushes, Sir Charles,” the soldier panted, + “watching that gentleman, sir,”—he nodded over his shoulder towards + Collier. “I challenged, and he jumped to run, and we collared him. He + resisted, Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + The mind of the Governor was concerned with other matters than + trespassers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, take him to the barracks, then,” he said. “Report to me in the + morning. That will do.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner wheeled eagerly, without further show of resistance, and the + soldiers closed in on him on either side. But as the three men moved away + together, their faces, which had been in shadow, were now turned towards + Mr. Collier, who was advancing leisurely, and with silent footsteps, + across the grass. He met them face to face, and as he did so the prisoner + sprang back and threw out his arms in front of him, with the gesture of a + man who entreats silence. Mr. Collier halted as though struck to stone, + and the two men confronted each other without moving. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” Mr. Collier whispered. + </p> + <p> + He turned stiffly and slowly, as though in a trance, and beckoned to his + wife, who had followed him. + </p> + <p> + “Alice!” he called. He stepped backwards towards her, and taking her hand + in one of his, drew her towards the prisoner. “Here he is!” he said. + </p> + <p> + They heard her cry “Henry!” with the fierceness of a call for help, and + saw her rush forward and stumble into the arms of the prisoner, and their + two heads were bent close together. + </p> + <p> + Collier ran up the steps and explained breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” he gasped, in conclusion, “what’s to be done? What’s he + arrested for? Is it bailable? What?” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” exclaimed Sir Charles, miserably. “It is my fault + entirely. I assure you I had no idea. How could I? But I should have + known, I should have guessed it.” He dismissed the sentries with a + gesture. “That will do,” he said. “Return to your posts.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Collier laughed with relief. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is not serious?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He—he had no money, that was all,” exclaimed Sir Charles. “Serious? + Certainly not. Upon my word, I’m sorry—” + </p> + <p> + The young man had released himself from his sister’s embrace, and was + coming towards them; and Sir Charles, eager to redeem himself, advanced + hurriedly to greet him. But the young man did not see him; he was looking + past him up the steps to where Miss Cameron stood in the shadow. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles hesitated and drew back. The young man stopped at the foot of + the steps, and stood with his head raised, staring up at the white figure + of the girl, who came slowly forward. + </p> + <p> + It was forced upon Sir Charles that in spite of the fact that the young + man before them had but just then been rescued from arrest, that in spite + of his mean garments and ragged sandals, something about him—the + glamour that surrounds the prodigal, or possibly the moonlight—gave + him an air of great dignity and distinction. + </p> + <p> + As Miss Cameron descended the stairs, Sir Charles recognized for the first + time that the young man was remarkably handsome, and he resented it. It + hurt him, as did also the prodigal’s youth and his assured bearing. He + felt a sudden sinking fear, a weakening of all his vital forces, and he + drew in his breath slowly and deeply. But no one noticed him; they were + looking at the tall figure of the prodigal, standing with his hat at his + hip and his head thrown back, holding the girl with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Collier touched Sir Charles on the arm, and nodded his head towards the + library. “Come,” he whispered, “let us old people leave them together. + They’ve a good deal to say.” Sir Charles obeyed in silence, and crossing + the library to the great oak chair, seated himself and leaned wearily on + the table before him. He picked up one of the goose quills and began + separating it into little pieces. Mr. Collier was pacing up and down, + biting excitedly on the end of his cigar. “Well, this has certainly been a + great night,” he said. “And it is all due to you, Sir Charles—all + due to you. Yes, they have you to thank for it.” + </p> + <p> + “They?” said Sir Charles. He knew that it had to come. He wanted the man + to strike quickly. + </p> + <p> + “They? Yes—Florence Cameron and Henry,” Mr. Collier answered. “Henry + went away because she wouldn’t marry him. She didn’t care for him then, + but afterwards she cared. Now they’re reunited,—and so they’re + happy; and my wife is more than happy, and I won’t have to bother any + more; and it’s all right, and all through you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said Sir Charles. There was a long pause, which the men, each + deep in his own thoughts, did not notice. + </p> + <p> + “You will be leaving now, I suppose?” Sir Charles asked. He was looking + down, examining the broken pen in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Collier stopped in his walk and considered. “Yes, I suppose they will + want to get back,” he said. “I shall be sorry myself. And you? What will + you do?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles started slightly. He had not yet thought what he would do. His + eyes wandered over the neglected work, which had accumulated on the desk + before him. Only an hour before he had thought of it as petty and little, + as something unworthy of his energy. Since that time what change had taken + place in him? + </p> + <p> + For him everything had changed, he answered, but in him there had been no + change; and if this thing which the girl had brought into his life had + meant the best in life, it must always mean that. She had been an + inspiration; she must remain his spring of action. Was he a slave, he + asked himself, that he should rebel? Was he a boy, that he could turn his + love to aught but the best account? He must remember her not as the woman + who had crushed his spirit, but as she who had helped him, who had lifted + him up to something better and finer. He would make sacrifice in her name; + it would be in her name that he would rise to high places and accomplish + much good. + </p> + <p> + She would not know this, but he would know. + </p> + <p> + He rose and brushed the papers away from him with an impatient sweep of + the hand. + </p> + <p> + “I shall follow out the plan of which I spoke at dinner,” he answered. “I + shall resign here, and return home and enter Parliament.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Collier laughed admiringly. “I love the way you English take your + share of public life,” he said, “the way you spend yourselves for your + country, and give your brains, your lives, everything you have—all + for the empire.” + </p> + <p> + Through the open window Sir Charles saw Miss Cameron half hidden by the + vines of the veranda. The moonlight falling about her transformed her into + a figure which was ideal, mysterious, and elusive, like a woman in a + dream. He shook his head wearily. + </p> + <p> + “For the empire?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER + </h2> + <h3> + A SKETCH CONTAINING THREE POINTS OF VIEW + </h3> + <p> + What the Poet Laureate wrote. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “There are girls in the Gold Reef City + There are mothers and children too! + And they cry ‘Hurry up for pity!’ + So what can a brave man do? + + “I suppose we were wrong, were mad men, + Still I think at the Judgment Day, + When God sifts the good from the bad men, + There’ll be something more to say.” + </pre> + <p> + What more the Lord Chief Justice found to say. + </p> + <p> + “In this case we know the immediate consequence of your crime. It has been + the loss of human life, it has been the disturbance of public peace, it + has been the creation of a certain sense of distrust of public professions + and of public faith.... The sentence of this Court therefore is that, as + to you, Leander Starr Jameson, you be confined for a period of fifteen + months without hard labor; that you, Sir John Willoughby, have ten months’ + imprisonment; and that you, etc., etc.” + </p> + <p> + London Times, July 29th. + </p> + <p> + What the Hon. “Reggie” Blake thought about it. + </p> + <p> + “H. M. HOLLOWAY PRISON, + </p> + <p> + “July 28th. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to keep a diary while I am in prison, that is, if they will + let me. I never kept one before because I hadn’t the time; when I was home + on leave there was too much going on to bother about it, and when I was up + country I always came back after a day’s riding so tired that I was too + sleepy to write anything. And now that I have the time, I won’t have + anything to write about. I fancy that more things happened to me to-day + than are likely to happen again for the next eight months, so I will make + this day take up as much room in the diary as it can. I am writing this on + the back of the paper the Warder uses for his official reports, while he + is hunting up cells to put us in. We came down on him rather unexpectedly + and he is nervous. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I had prepared myself for this after a fashion, but now I see + that somehow I never really did think I would be in here, and all my + friends outside, and everything going on just the same as though I wasn’t + alive somewhere. It’s like telling yourself that your horse can’t possibly + pull off a race, so that you won’t mind so much if he doesn’t, but you + always feel just as bad when he comes in a loser. A man can’t fool himself + into thinking one way when he is hoping the other. + </p> + <p> + “But I am glad it is over, and settled. It was a great bore not knowing + your luck and having the thing hanging over your head every morning when + you woke up. Indeed it was quite a relief when the counsel got all through + arguing over those proclamations, and the Chief Justice summed up, but I + nearly went to sleep when I found he was going all over it again to the + jury. I didn’t understand about those proclamations myself and I’ll lay a + fiver the jury didn’t either. The Colonel said he didn’t. I couldn’t keep + my mind on what Russell was explaining about, and I got to thinking how + much old Justice Hawkins looked like the counsel in ‘Alice in Wonderland’ + when they tried the knave of spades for stealing the tarts. He had just + the same sort of a beak and the same sort of a wig, and I wondered why he + had his wig powdered and the others didn’t. Pollock’s wig had a hole in + the top; you could see it when he bent over to take notes. He was always + taking notes. I don’t believe he understood about those proclamations + either; he never seemed to listen, anyway. + </p> + <p> + “The Chief Justice certainly didn’t love us very much, that’s sure; and he + wasn’t going to let anybody else love us either. I felt quite the + Christian Martyr when Sir Edward was speaking in defence. He made it sound + as though we were all a lot of Adelphi heroes and ought to be promoted and + have medals, but when Lord Russell started in to read the Riot Act at us I + began to believe that hanging was too good for me. I’m sure I never knew I + was disturbing the peace of nations; it seems like such a large order for + a subaltern. + </p> + <p> + “But the worst was when they made us stand up before all those people to + be sentenced. I must say I felt shaky about the knees then, not because I + was afraid of what was coming, but because it was the first time I had + ever been pointed out before people, and made to feel ashamed. And having + those girls there, too, looking at one. That wasn’t just fair to us. It + made me feel about ten years old, and I remembered how the Head Master + used to call me to his desk and say, ‘Blake Senior, two pages of Horace + and keep in bounds for a week.’ And then I heard our names and the months, + and my name and ‘eight months’ imprisonment,’ and there was a bustle and + murmur and the tipstaves cried, ‘Order in the Court,’ and the Judges stood + up and shook out their big red skirts as though they were shaking off the + contamination of our presence and rustled away, and I sat down, wondering + how long eight months was, and wishing they’d given me as much as they + gave Jameson. + </p> + <p> + “They put us in a room together then, and our counsel said how sorry they + were, and shook hands, and went off to dinner and left us. I thought they + might have waited with us and been a little late for dinner just that + once; but no one waited except a lot of costers outside whom we did not + know. It was eight o’clock and still quite light when we came out, and + there was a line of four-wheelers and a hansom ready for us. I’d been + hoping they would take us out by the Strand entrance, just because I’d + like to have seen it again, but they marched us instead through the main + quadrangle—a beastly, gloomy courtyard that echoed, and out, into + Carey Street—such a dirty, gloomy street. The costers and clerks set + up a sort of a cheer when we came out, and one of them cried, ‘God bless + you, sir,’ to the doctor, but I was sorry they cheered. It seemed like + kicking against the umpire’s decision. The Colonel and I got into a hansom + together and we trotted off into Chancery Lane and turned into Holborn. + Most of the shops were closed, and the streets looked empty, but there was + a lighted clock-face over Mooney’s public-house, and the hands stood at a + quarter past eight. I didn’t know where Holloway was, and was hoping they + would have to take us through some decent streets to reach it; but we + didn’t see a part of the city that meant anything to me, or that I would + choose to travel through again. + </p> + <p> + “Neither of us talked, and I imagined that the people in the streets knew + we were going to prison, and I kept my eyes on the enamel card on the back + of the apron. I suppose I read, ‘Two-wheeled hackney carriage: if hired + and discharged within the four-mile limit, 1s.’ at least a hundred times. + I got more sensible after a bit, and when we had turned into Gray’s Inn + Road I looked up and saw a tram in front of us with ‘Holloway Road and + King’s X,’ painted on the steps, and the Colonel saw it about the same + time I fancy, for we each looked at the other, and the Colonel raised his + eyebrows. It showed us that at least the cabman knew where we were going. + </p> + <p> + “‘They might have taken us for a turn through the West End first, I + think,’ the Colonel said. ‘I’d like to have had a look around, wouldn’t + you? This isn’t a cheerful neighborhood, is it?’ + </p> + <p> + “There were a lot of children playing in St. Andrew’s Gardens, and a crowd + of them ran out just as we passed, shrieking and laughing over nothing, + the way kiddies do, and that was about the only pleasant sight in the + ride. I had quite a turn when we came to the New Hospital just beyond, for + I thought it was Holloway, and it came over me what eight months in such a + place meant. I believe if I hadn’t pulled myself up sharp, I’d have jumped + out into the street and run away. It didn’t last more than a few seconds, + but I don’t want any more like them. I was afraid, afraid—there’s no + use pretending it was anything else. I was in a dumb, silly funk, and I + turned sick inside and shook, as I have seen a horse shake when he shies + at nothing and sweats and trembles down his sides. + </p> + <p> + “During those few seconds it seemed to be more than I could stand; I felt + sure that I couldn’t do it—that I’d go mad if they tried to force + me. The idea was so terrible—of not being master over your own legs + and arms, to have your flesh and blood and what brains God gave you buried + alive in stone walls as though they were in a safe with a time-lock on the + door set for eight months ahead. There’s nothing to be afraid of in a + stone wall really, but it’s the idea of the thing—of not being free + to move about, especially to a chap that has always lived in the open as I + have, and has had men under him. It was no wonder I was in a funk for a + minute. I’ll bet a fiver the others were, too, if they’ll only own up to + it. I don’t mean for long, but just when the idea first laid hold of them. + Anyway, it was a good lesson to me, and if I catch myself thinking of it + again I’ll whistle, or talk to myself out loud and think of something + cheerful. And I don’t mean to be one of those chaps who spends his time in + jail counting the stones in his cell, or training spiders, or measuring + how many of his steps make a mile, for madness lies that way. I mean to + sit tight and think of all the good times I’ve had, and go over them in my + mind very slowly, so as to make them last longer and remember who was + there and what we said, and the jokes and all that; I’ll go over + house-parties I have been on, and the times I’ve had in the Riviera, and + scouting parties Dr. Jim led up country when we were taking Matabele Land. + </p> + <p> + “They say that if you’re good here they give you things to read after a + month or two, and then I can read up all those instructive books that a + fellow never does read until he’s laid up in bed. + </p> + <p> + “But that’s crowding ahead a bit; I must keep to what happened to-day. We + struck York Road at the back of the Great Western Terminus, and I half + hoped we might see some chap we knew coming or going away: I would like to + have waved my hand to him. It would have been fun to have seen his + surprise the next morning when he read in the paper that he had been + bowing to jail-birds, and then I would like to have cheated the tipstaves + out of just one more friendly good-by. I wanted to say good-by to + somebody, but I really couldn’t feel sorry to see the last of any one of + those we passed in the streets—they were such a dirty, + unhappy-looking lot, and the railroad wall ran on forever apparently, and + we might have been in a foreign country for all we knew of it. There were + just sooty gray brick tenements and gas-works on one side, and the + railroad cutting on the other, and semaphores and telegraph wires + overhead, and smoke and grime everywhere, it looked exactly like the sort + of street that should lead to a prison, and it seemed a pity to take a + smart hansom and a good cob into it. + </p> + <p> + “It was just a bit different from our last ride together—when we + rode through the night from Krugers-Dorp with hundreds of horses’ hoofs + pounding on the soft veldt behind us, and the carbines clanking against + the stirrups as they swung on the sling belts. We were being hunted then, + harassed on either side, scurrying for our lives like the Derby Dog in a + race-track when every one hoots him and no man steps out to help—we + were sick for sleep, sick for food, lashed by the rain, and we knew that + we were beaten; but we were free still, and under open skies with the + derricks of the Rand rising like gallows on our left, and Johannesburg + only fifteen miles away.” + </p> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION AND THE UNICORN ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb33073 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1620 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1620) diff --git a/old/1620.txt b/old/1620.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1931bdf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1620.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4362 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lion and the Unicorn and Other Stories, by +Richard Harding Davis + +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 Lion and the Unicorn and Other Stories + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Posting Date: October 15, 2008 [EBook #1620] +Release Date: January, 1999 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LION AND UNICORN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller + + + + + +THE LION AND THE UNICORN + +By Richard Harding Davis + + + + + IN MEMORY OF MANY HOT DAYS AND SOME HOT CORNERS + THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO + LT.-COL. ARTHUR H. LEE, R.A. + British Military Attache with the United States Army + + + + +Contents + + THE LION AND THE UNICORN + + ON THE FEVER SHIP + + THE MAN WITH ONE TALENT + + THE VAGRANT + + THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER + + + + +THE LION AND THE UNICORN + +Prentiss had a long lease on the house, and because it stood in Jermyn +Street the upper floors were, as a matter of course, turned into +lodgings for single gentlemen; and because Prentiss was a Florist to the +Queen, he placed a lion and unicorn over his flowershop, just in front +of the middle window on the first floor. By stretching a little, each of +them could see into the window just beyond him, and could hear all that +was said inside; and such things as they saw and heard during the reign +of Captain Carrington, who moved in at the same time they did! By day +the table in the centre of the room was covered with maps, and the +Captain sat with a box of pins, with different-colored flags wrapped +around them, and amused himself by sticking them in the maps and +measuring the spaces in between, swearing meanwhile to himself. It was a +selfish amusement, but it appeared to be the Captain's only intellectual +pursuit, for at night, the maps were rolled up, and a green cloth was +spread across the table, and there was much company and popping of +soda-bottles, and little heaps of gold and silver were moved this way +and that across the cloth. The smoke drifted out of the open windows, +and the laughter of the Captain's guests rang out loudly in the empty +street, so that the policeman halted and raised his eyes reprovingly to +the lighted windows, and cabmen drew up beneath them and lay in wait, +dozing on their folded arms, for the Captain's guests to depart. The +Lion and the Unicorn were rather ashamed of the scandal of it, and they +were glad when, one day, the Captain went away with his tin boxes and +gun-cases piled high on a four-wheeler. + +Prentiss stood on the sidewalk and said: "I wish you good luck, sir." +And the Captain said: "I'm coming back a Major, Prentiss." But he never +came back. And one day--the Lion remembered the day very well, for on +that same day the newsboys ran up and down Jermyn Street shouting out +the news of "a 'orrible disaster" to the British arms. It was then that +a young lady came to the door in a hansom, and Prentiss went out to meet +her and led her upstairs. They heard him unlock the Captain's door and +say, "This is his room, miss," and after he had gone they watched her +standing quite still by the centre table. She stood there for a very +long time looking slowly about her, and then she took a photograph of +the Captain from the frame on the mantel and slipped it into her pocket, +and when she went out again her veil was down, and she was crying. She +must have given Prentiss as much as a sovereign, for he called her "Your +ladyship," which he never did under a sovereign. + +And she drove off, and they never saw her again either, nor could they +hear the address she gave the cabman. But it was somewhere up St. John's +Wood way. + +After that the rooms were empty for some months, and the Lion and the +Unicorn were forced to amuse themselves with the beautiful ladies and +smart-looking men who came to Prentiss to buy flowers and "buttonholes," +and the little round baskets of strawberries, and even the peaches +at three shillings each, which looked so tempting as they lay in the +window, wrapped up in cotton-wool, like jewels of great price. + +Then Philip Carroll, the American gentleman, came, and they heard +Prentiss telling him that those rooms had always let for five guineas +a week, which they knew was not true; but they also knew that in the +economy of nations there must always be a higher price for the rich +American, or else why was he given that strange accent, except to betray +him into the hands of the London shopkeeper, and the London cabby? + +The American walked to the window toward the west, which was the window +nearest the Lion, and looked out into the graveyard of St. James's +Church, that stretched between their street and Piccadilly. + +"You're lucky in having a bit of green to look out on," he said to +Prentiss. "I'll take these rooms--at five guineas. That's more than +they're worth, you know, but as I know it, too, your conscience needn't +trouble you." + +Then his eyes fell on the Lion, and he nodded to him gravely. "How do +you do?" he said. "I'm coming to live with you for a little time. I +have read about you and your friends over there. It is a hazard of new +fortunes with me, your Majesty, so be kind to me, and if I win, I will +put a new coat of paint on your shield and gild you all over again." + +Prentiss smiled obsequiously at the American's pleasantry, but the new +lodger only stared at him. + +"He seemed a social gentleman," said the Unicorn, that night, when the +Lion and he were talking it over. "Now the Captain, the whole time he +was here, never gave us so much as a look. This one says he has read of +us." + +"And why not?" growled the Lion. "I hope Prentiss heard what he said of +our needing a new layer of gilt. It's disgraceful. You can see that Lion +over Scarlett's, the butcher, as far as Regent Street, and Scarlett is +only one of Salisbury's creations. He received his Letters-Patent only +two years back. We date from Palmerston." + +The lodger came up the street just at that moment, and stopped and +looked up at the Lion and the Unicorn from the sidewalk, before he +opened the door with his night-key. They heard him enter the room and +feel on the mantel for his pipe, and a moment later he appeared at the +Lion's window and leaned on the sill, looking down into the street below +and blowing whiffs of smoke up into the warm night-air. + +It was a night in June, and the pavements were dry under foot and the +streets were filled with well-dressed people, going home from the play, +and with groups of men in black and white, making their way to supper +at the clubs. Hansoms of inky-black, with shining lamps inside and out, +dashed noiselessly past on mysterious errands, chasing close on each +other's heels on a mad race, each to its separate goal. From the cross +streets rose the noises of early night, the rumble of the 'buses, the +creaking of their brakes, as they unlocked, the cries of the "extras," +and the merging of thousands of human voices in a dull murmur. The great +world of London was closing its shutters for the night, and putting out +the lights; and the new lodger from across the sea listened to it with +his heart beating quickly, and laughed to stifle the touch of fear and +homesickness that rose in him. + +"I have seen a great play to-night," he said to the Lion, "nobly played +by great players. What will they care for my poor wares? I see that I +have been over-bold. But we cannot go back now--not yet." + +He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and nodded "good-night" to the +great world beyond his window. "What fortunes lie with ye, ye lights of +London town?" he quoted, smiling. And they heard him close the door of +his bedroom, and lock it for the night. + +The next morning he bought many geraniums from Prentiss and placed them +along the broad cornice that stretched across the front of the house +over the shop window. The flowers made a band of scarlet on either side +of the Lion as brilliant as a Tommy's jacket. + +"I am trying to propitiate the British Lion by placing flowers before +his altar," the American said that morning to a visitor. + +"The British public you mean," said the visitor; "they are each likely +to tear you to pieces." + +"Yes, I have heard that the pit on the first night of a bad play is +something awful," hazarded the American. + +"Wait and see," said the visitor. + +"Thank you," said the American, meekly. + +Every one who came to the first floor front talked about a play. It +seemed to be something of great moment to the American. It was only a +bundle of leaves printed in red and black inks and bound in brown +paper covers. There were two of them, and the American called them by +different names: one was his comedy and one was his tragedy. + +"They are both likely to be tragedies," the Lion heard one of the +visitors say to another, as they drove away together. "Our young friend +takes it too seriously." + +The American spent most of his time by his desk at the window writing on +little blue pads and tearing up what he wrote, or in reading over one of +the plays to himself in a loud voice. In time the number of his visitors +increased, and to some of these he would read his play; and after they +had left him he was either depressed and silent or excited and jubilant. +The Lion could always tell when he was happy because then he would go to +the side table and pour himself out a drink and say, "Here's to me," but +when he was depressed he would stand holding the glass in his hand, and +finally pour the liquor back into the bottle again and say, "What's the +use of that?" + +After he had been in London a month he wrote less and was more +frequently abroad, sallying forth in beautiful raiment, and coming home +by daylight. + +And he gave suppers too, but they were less noisy than the Captain's had +been, and the women who came to them were much more beautiful, and their +voices when they spoke were sweet and low. Sometimes one of the women +sang, and the men sat in silence while the people in the street below +stopped to listen, and would say, "Why, that is So-and-So singing," and +the Lion and the Unicorn wondered how they could know who it was when +they could not see her. + +The lodger's visitors came to see him at all hours. They seemed to +regard his rooms as a club, where they could always come for a bite to +eat or to write notes; and others treated it like a lawyer's office and +asked advice on all manner of strange subjects. Sometimes the visitor +wanted to know whether the American thought she ought to take L10 a +week and go on tour, or stay in town and try to live on L8; or whether +she should paint landscapes that would not sell, or racehorses that +would; or whether Reggie really loved her and whether she really loved +Reggie; or whether the new part in the piece at the Court was better +than the old part at Terry's, and wasn't she getting too old to play +"ingenues" anyway. + +The lodger seemed to be a general adviser, and smoked and listened +with grave consideration, and the Unicorn thought his judgment was most +sympathetic and sensible. + +Of all the beautiful ladies who came to call on the lodger the one the +Unicorn liked the best was the one who wanted to know whether she loved +Reggie and whether Reggie loved her. She discussed this so interestingly +while she consumed tea and thin slices of bread that the Unicorn almost +lost his balance in leaning forward to listen. Her name was Marion +Cavendish and it was written over many photographs which stood in silver +frames in the lodger's rooms. She used to make the tea herself, while +the lodger sat and smoked; and she had a fascinating way of doubling the +thin slices of bread into long strips and nibbling at them like a mouse +at a piece of cheese. She had wonderful little teeth and Cupid's-bow +lips, and she had a fashion of lifting her veil only high enough for one +to see the two Cupid-bow lips. When she did that the American used to +laugh, at nothing apparently, and say, "Oh, I guess Reggie loves you +well enough." + +"But do I love Reggie?" she would ask sadly, with her tea-cup held +poised in air. + +"I am sure I hope not," the lodger would reply, and she would put down +the veil quickly, as one would drop a curtain over a beautiful picture, +and rise with great dignity and say, "if you talk like that I shall not +come again." + +She was sure that if she could only get some work to do her head would +be filled with more important matters than whether Reggie loved her or +not. + +"But the managers seem inclined to cut their cavendish very fine just +at present," she said. "If I don't get a part soon," she announced, "I +shall ask Mitchell to put me down on the list for recitations at evening +parties." + +"That seems a desperate revenge," said the American; "and besides, I +don't want you to get a part, because some one might be idiotic enough +to take my comedy, and if he should, you must play Nancy." + +"I would not ask for any salary if I could play Nancy," Miss Cavendish +answered. + +They spoke of a great many things, but their talk always ended by her +saying that there must be some one with sufficient sense to see that +his play was a great play, and by his saying that none but she must play +Nancy. + +The Lion preferred the tall girl with masses and folds of brown hair, +who came from America to paint miniatures of the British aristocracy. +Her name was Helen Cabot, and he liked her because she was so brave and +fearless, and so determined to be independent of every one, even of the +lodger--especially of the lodger, who it appeared had known her +very well at home. The lodger, they gathered, did not wish her to be +independent of him and the two Americans had many arguments and disputes +about it, but she always said, "It does no good, Philip; it only hurts +us both when you talk so. I care for nothing, and for no one but my art, +and, poor as it is, it means everything to me, and you do not, and, of +course, the man I am to marry, must." Then Carroll would talk, walking +up and down, and looking very fierce and determined, and telling her +how he loved her in such a way that it made her look even more proud and +beautiful. And she would say more gently, "It is very fine to think that +any one can care for like that, and very helpful. But unless I cared in +the same way it would be wicked of me to marry you, and besides--" She +would add very quickly to prevent his speaking again--"I don't want +to marry you or anybody, and I never shall. I want to be free and to +succeed in my work, just as you want to succeed in your work. So please +never speak of this again." When she went away the lodger used to sit +smoking in the big arm-chair and beat the arms with his hands, and he +would pace up and down the room while his work would lie untouched and +his engagements pass forgotten. + +Summer came and London was deserted, dull, and dusty, but the lodger +stayed on in Jermyn Street. Helen Cabot had departed on a round of +visits to country houses in Scotland, where, as she wrote him, she was +painting miniatures of her hosts and studying the game of golf. Miss +Cavendish divided her days between the river and one of the West End +theatres. She was playing a small part in a farce-comedy. + +One day she came up from Cookham earlier than usual, looking very +beautiful in a white boating frock and a straw hat with a Leander +ribbon. Her hands and arms were hard with dragging a punting pole and +she was sunburnt and happy, and hungry for tea. + +"Why don't you come down to Cookham and get out of this heat?" Miss +Cavendish asked. "You need it; you look ill." + +"I'd like to, but I can't," said Carroll. "The fact is, I paid in +advance for these rooms, and if I lived anywhere else I'd be losing five +guineas a week on them." + +Miss Cavendish regarded him severely. She had never quite mastered his +American humor. + +"But five guineas--why that's nothing to you," she said. Something in +the lodger's face made her pause. "You don't mean----" + +"Yes, I do," said the lodger, smiling. "You see, I started in to lay +siege to London without sufficient ammunition. London is a large +town, and it didn't fall as quickly as I thought it would. So I am +economizing. Mr. Lockhart's Coffee Rooms and I are no longer strangers." + +Miss Cavendish put down her cup of tea untasted and leaned toward him + +"Are you in earnest?" she asked. "For how long?" + +"Oh, for the last month," replied the lodger; "they are not at all +bad--clean and wholesome and all that." + +"But the suppers you gave us, and this," she cried, suddenly, waving her +hands over the pretty tea-things, "and the cake and muffins?" + +"My friends, at least," said Carroll, "need not go to Lockhart's." + +"And the Savoy?" asked Miss Cavendish, mournfully shaking her head. + +"A dream of the past," said Carroll, waving his pipe through the +smoke. "Gatti's? Yes, on special occasions; but for necessity, the +Chancellor's, where one gets a piece of the prime roast beef of Old +England, from Chicago, and potatoes for ninepence--a pot of bitter +twopence-halfpenny, and a penny for the waiter. It's most amusing on +the whole. I am learning a little about London, and some things about +myself. They are both most interesting subjects." + +"Well, I don't like it," Miss Cavendish declared helplessly. "When I +think of those suppers and the flowers, I feel--I feel like a robber." + +"Don't," begged Carroll. "I am really the most happy of men--that is, as +the chap says in the play, I would be if I wasn't so damned miserable. +But I owe no man a penny and I have assets--I have L80 to last me +through the winter and two marvellous plays; and I love, next to +yourself, the most wonderful woman God ever made. That's enough." + +"But I thought you made such a lot of money by writing?" asked Miss +Cavendish. + +"I do--that is, I could," answered Carroll, "if I wrote the things that +sell; but I keep on writing plays that won't." + +"And such plays!" exclaimed Marion, warmly; "and to think that they are +going begging." She continued indignantly, "I can't imagine what the +managers do want." + +"I know what they don't want," said the American. Miss Cavendish drummed +impatiently on the tea-tray. + +"I wish you wouldn't be so abject about it," she said. "If I were a man +I'd make them take those plays." + +"How?" asked the American; "with a gun?" + +"Well, I'd keep at it until they read them," declared Marion. "I'd sit +on their front steps all night and I'd follow them in cabs, and I'd lie +in wait for them at the stage-door. I'd just make them take them." + +Carroll sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I guess I'll give up and go +home," he said. + +"Oh, yes, do, run away before you are beaten," said Miss Cavendish, +scornfully. "Why, you can't go now. Everybody will be back in town soon, +and there are a lot of new plays coming on, and some of them are sure +to be failures, and that's our chance. You rush in with your piece and +somebody may take it sooner than close the theatre." + +"I'm thinking of closing the theatre myself," said Carroll. "What's the +use of my hanging on here?" he exclaimed. "It distresses Helen to know I +am in London, feeling about her as I do--and the Lord only knows how it +distresses me. And, maybe, if I went away," he said, consciously, "she +might miss me. She might see the difference." + +Miss Cavendish held herself erect and pressed her lips together with a +severe smile. "If Helen Cabot doesn't see the difference between you +and the other men she knows now," she said, "I doubt if she ever will. +Besides--" she continued, and then hesitated. "Well, go on," urged +Carroll. + +"Well, I was only going to say," she explained, "that leaving the girl +alone never did the man any good unless he left her alone willingly. +If she's sure he still cares, it's just the same to her where he is. He +might as well stay on in London as go to South Africa. It won't help +him any. The difference comes when she finds he has stopped caring. Why, +look at Reggie. He tried that. He went away for ever so long, but +he kept writing me from wherever he went, so that he was perfectly +miserable--and I went on enjoying myself. Then when he came back, he +tried going about with his old friends again. He used to come to the +theatre with them--oh, with such nice girls--but he always stood in the +back of the box and yawned and scowled--so I knew. And, anyway, he'd +always spoil it all by leaving them and waiting at the stage entrance +for me. But one day he got tired of the way I treated him and went +off on a bicycle tour with Lady Hacksher's girls and some men from his +regiment, and he was gone three weeks and never sent me even a line; and +I got so scared; I couldn't sleep, and I stood it for three days more, +and then I wired him to come back or I'd jump off London Bridge; and he +came back that very night from Edinburgh on the express, and I was so +glad to see him that I got confused, and in the general excitement I +promised to marry him, so that's how it was with us." + +"Yes," said the American, without enthusiasm; "but then I still care, +and Helen knows I care." + +"Doesn't she ever fancy that you might care for some one else? You have +a lot of friends, you know." + +"Yes, but she knows they are just that--friends," said the American. + +Miss Cavendish stood up to go, and arranged her veil before the mirror +above the fireplace. + +"I come here very often to tea," she said. + +"It's very kind of you," said Carroll. He was at the open window, +looking down into the street for a cab. + +"Well, no one knows I am engaged to Reggie," continued Miss Cavendish, +"except you and Reggie, and he isn't so sure. SHE doesn't know it." + +"Well?" said Carroll. + +Miss Cavendish smiled a mischievous kindly smile at him from the mirror. + +"Well?" she repeated, mockingly. Carroll stared at her and laughed. +After a pause he said: "It's like a plot in a comedy. But I'm afraid I'm +too serious for play-acting." + +"Yes, it is serious," said Miss Cavendish. She seated herself again +and regarded the American thoughtfully. "You are too good a man to be +treated the way that girl is treating you, and no one knows it better +than she does. She'll change in time, but just now she thinks she wants +to be independent. She's in love with this picture-painting idea, and +with the people she meets. It's all new to her--the fuss they make over +her and the titles, and the way she is asked about. We know she can't +paint. We know they only give her commissions because she's so young +and pretty, and American. She amuses them, that's all. Well, that cannot +last; she'll find it out. She's too clever a girl, and she is too fine +a girl to be content with that long. Then--then she'll come back to you. +She feels now that she has both you and the others, and she's making +you wait: so wait and be cheerful. She's worth waiting for; she's young, +that's all. She'll see the difference in time. But, in the meanwhile, it +would hurry matters a bit if she thought she had to choose between the +new friends and you." + +"She could still keep her friends, and marry me," said Carroll; "I have +told her that a hundred times. She could still paint miniatures and +marry me. But she won't marry me." + +"She won't marry you because she knows she can whenever she wants to;" +cried Marion. "Can't you see that? But if she thought you were going to +marry some one else now?" + +"She would be the first to congratulate me," said Carroll. He rose and +walked to the fireplace, where he leaned with his arm on the mantel. +There was a photograph of Helen Cabot near his hand, and he turned this +toward him and stood for some time staring at it. "My dear Marion," he +said at last, "I've known Helen ever since she was as young as that. +Every year I've loved her more, and found new things in her to care for; +now I love her more than any other man ever loved any other woman." + +Miss Cavendish shook her head sympathetically. + +"Yes, I know," she said; "that's the way Reggie loves me, too." + +Carroll went on as though he had not heard her. + +"There's a bench in St. James's Park," he said, "where we used to sit +when she first came here, when she didn't know so many people. We used +to go there in the morning and throw penny buns to the ducks. That's +been my amusement this summer since you've all been away--sitting on +that bench, feeding penny buns to the silly ducks--especially the black +one, the one she used to like best. And I make pilgrimages to all the +other places we ever visited together, and try to pretend she is with +me. And I support the crossing sweeper at Lansdowne Passage because she +once said she felt sorry for him. I do all the other absurd things that +a man in love tortures himself by doing. But to what end? She knows how +I care, and yet she won't see why we can't go on being friends as we +once were. What's the use of it all?" + +"She is young, I tell you," repeated Miss Cavendish, "and she's too sure +of you. You've told her you care; now try making her think you don't +care." + +Carroll shook his head impatiently. + +"I will not stoop to such tricks and pretence, Marion," he cried +impatiently. "All I have is my love for her; if I have to cheat and to +trap her into caring, the whole thing would be degraded." + +Miss Cavendish shrugged her shoulders and walked to the door. "Such +amateurs!" she exclaimed, and banged the door after her. + +Carroll never quite knew how he had come to make a confidante of Miss +Cavendish. Helen and he had met her when they first arrived in London, +and as she had acted for a season in the United States, she adopted +the two Americans--and told Helen where to go for boots and hats, and +advised Carroll about placing his plays. Helen soon made other friends, +and deserted the artists, with whom her work had first thrown her. She +seemed to prefer the society of the people who bought her paintings, and +who admired and made much of the painter. As she was very beautiful and +at an age when she enjoyed everything in life keenly and eagerly, to +give her pleasure was in itself a distinct pleasure; and the worldly +tired people she met were considering their own entertainment quite +as much as hers when they asked her to their dinners and dances, or +to spend a week with them in the country. In her way, she was as +independent as was Carroll in his, and as she was not in love, as he +was, her life was not narrowed down to but one ideal. But she was not +so young as to consider herself infallible, and she had one excellent +friend on whom she was dependent for advice and to whose directions she +submitted implicitly. This was Lady Gower, the only person to whom Helen +had spoken of Carroll and of his great feeling for her. Lady Gower, +immediately after her marriage, had been a conspicuous and brilliant +figure in that set in London which works eighteen hours a day to keep +itself amused, but after the death of her husband she had disappeared +into the country as completely as though she had entered a convent, +and after several years had then re-entered the world as a professional +philanthropist. Her name was now associated entirely with Women's +Leagues, with committees that presented petitions to Parliament, and +with public meetings, at which she spoke with marvellous ease and +effect. Her old friends said she had taken up this new pose as an outlet +for her nervous energies, and as an effort to forget the man who alone +had made life serious to her. Others knew her as an earnest woman, +acting honestly for what she thought was right. Her success, all +admitted, was due to her knowledge of the world and to her sense of +humor, which taught her with whom to use her wealth and position, and +when to demand what she wanted solely on the ground that the cause was +just. + +She had taken more than a fancy for Helen, and the position of the +beautiful, motherless girl had appealed to her as one filled with +dangers. When she grew to know Helen better, she recognized that these +fears were quite unnecessary, and as she saw more of her she learned +to care for her deeply. Helen had told her much of Carroll and of his +double purpose in coming to London; of his brilliant work and his lack +of success in having it recognized; and of his great and loyal devotion +to her, and of his lack of success, not in having that recognized, but +in her own inability to return it. Helen was proud that she had been +able to make Carroll care for her as he did, and that there was anything +about her which could inspire a man whom she admired so much, to believe +in her so absolutely and for so long a time. But what convinced her that +the outcome for which he hoped was impossible, was the very fact that +she could admire him, and see how fine and unselfish his love for her +was, and yet remain untouched by it. + +She had been telling Lady Gower one day of the care he had taken of her +ever since she was fourteen years of age, and had quoted some of the +friendly and loverlike acts he had performed in her service, until one +day they had both found out that his attitude of the elder brother was +no longer possible, and that he loved her in the old and only way. Lady +Gower looked at her rather doubtfully and smiled. + +"I wish you would bring him to see me, Helen" she said; "I think I +should like your friend very much. From what you tell me of him I doubt +if you will find many such men waiting for you in this country. Our men +marry for reasons of property, or they love blindly, and are exacting +and selfish before and after they are married. I know, because so many +women came to me when my husband was alive to ask how it was that I +continued so happy in my married life." + +"But I don't want to marry any one," Helen remonstrated gently. +"American girls are not always thinking only of getting married." + +"What I meant was this," said Lady Gower, "that, in my experience, I +have heard of but few men who care in the way this young man seems to +care for you. You say you do not love him; but if he had wanted to gain +my interest, he could not have pleaded his cause better than you have +done. He seems to see your faults and yet love you still, in spite of +them--or on account of them. And I like the things he does for you. I +like, for instance, his sending you the book of the moment every week +for two years. That shows a most unswerving spirit of devotion. And the +story of the broken bridge in the woods is a wonderful story. If I were +a young girl, I could love a man for that alone. It was a beautiful +thing to do." + +Helen sat with her chin on her hands, deeply considering this new point +of view. + +"I thought it very foolish of him," she confessed questioningly, "to +take such a risk for such a little thing." + +Lady Gower smiled down at her from the height of her many years. + +"Wait," she said dryly, "you are very young now--and very rich; every +one is crowding to give you pleasure, to show his admiration. You are +a very fortunate girl. But later, these things which some man has done +because he loved you, and which you call foolish, will grow large in +your life, and shine out strongly, and when you are discouraged and +alone, you will take them out, and the memory of them will make you +proud and happy. They are the honors which women wear in secret." + +Helen came back to town in September, and for the first few days was so +occupied in refurnishing her studio and in visiting the shops that she +neglected to send Carroll word of her return. When she found that a +whole week had passed without her having made any effort to see him, +and appreciated how the fact would hurt her friend, she was filled with +remorse, and drove at once in great haste to Jermyn Street, to announce +her return in person. On the way she decided that she would soften the +blow of her week of neglect by asking him to take her out to luncheon. +This privilege she had once or twice accorded him, and she felt that the +pleasure these excursions gave Carroll were worth the consternation they +caused to Lady Gower. + +The servant was uncertain whether Mr. Carroll was at home or not, but +Helen was too intent upon making restitution to wait for the fact to be +determined, and, running up the stairs, knocked sharply at the door of +his study. + +A voice bade her come in, and she entered, radiant and smiling her +welcome. But Carroll was not there to receive it, and instead, Marion +Cavendish looked up at her from his desk where she was busily writing. +Helen paused with a surprised laugh, but Marion sprang up and hailed her +gladly. They met half way across the room and kissed each other with the +most friendly feeling. + +Philip was out, Marion said, and she had just stepped in for a moment to +write him a note. If Helen would excuse her, she would finish it, as she +was late for rehearsal. + +But she asked over her shoulder, with great interest, if Helen had +passed a pleasant summer. She thought she had never seen her looking so +well. Helen thought Miss Cavendish herself was looking very well also, +but Marion said no; that she was too sunburnt, she would not be able to +wear a dinner-dress for a month. There was a pause while Marion's quill +scratched violently across Carroll's note-paper. Helen felt that in some +way she was being treated as an intruder; or worse, as a guest. She did +not sit down, it seemed impossible to do so, but she moved uncertainly +about the room. She noted that there were many changes, it seemed more +bare and empty; her picture was still on the writing-desk, but there +were at least six new photographs of Marion. Marion herself had brought +them to the room that morning, and had carefully arranged them in +conspicuous places. But Helen could not know that. She thought there was +an unnecessary amount of writing scribbled over the face of each. + +Marion addressed her letter and wrote "Immediate" across the envelope, +and placed it before the clock on the mantelshelf. "You will find Philip +looking very badly," she said, as she pulled on her gloves. "He has been +in town all summer, working very hard--he has had no holiday at all. I +don't think he's well. I have been a great deal worried about him," she +added. Her face was bent over the buttons of her glove, and when she +raised her blue eyes to Helen they were filled with serious concern. + +"Really," Helen stammered, "I--I didn't know--in his letters he seemed +very cheerful." + +Marion shook her head and turned and stood looking thoughtfully out of +the window. "He's in a very hard place," she began abruptly, and then +stopped as though she had thought better of what she intended to say. +Helen tried to ask her to go on, but could not bring herself to do so. +She wanted to get away. + +"I tell him he ought to leave London," Marion began again; "he needs a +change and a rest." + +"I should think he might," Helen agreed, "after three months of this +heat. He wrote me he intended going to Herne Bay or over to Ostend." + +"Yes, he had meant to go," Marion answered. She spoke with the air of +one who possessed the most intimate knowledge of Carroll's movements and +plans, and change of plans. "But he couldn't," she added. "He couldn't +afford it. Helen," she said, turning to the other girl, dramatically, +"do you know--I believe that Philip is very poor." + +Miss Cabot exclaimed incredulously, "Poor!" She laughed. "Why, what do +you mean?" + +"I mean that he has no money," Marion answered, sharply. "These rooms +represent nothing. He only keeps them on because he paid for them in +advance. He's been living on three shillings a day. That's poor for him. +He takes his meals at cabmen's shelters and at Lockhart's, and he's been +doing so for a month." + +Helen recalled with a guilty thrill the receipt of certain boxes of +La France roses--cut long, in the American fashion--which had arrived +within the last month at various country houses. She felt indignant +at herself, and miserable. Her indignation was largely due to the +recollection that she had given these flowers to her hostess to decorate +the dinner-table. + +She hated to ask this girl of things which she should have known better +than any one else. But she forced herself to do it. She felt she must +know certainly and at once. + +"How do you know this?" she asked. "Are you sure there is no mistake?" + +"He told me himself," said Marion, "when he talked of letting the plays +go and returning to America. He said he must go back; that his money was +gone." + +"He is gone to America!" Helen said, blankly. + +"No, he wanted to go, but I wouldn't let him," Marion went on. "I told +him that some one might take his play any day. And this third one he has +written, the one he finished this summer in town, is the best of all, I +think. It's a love-story. It's quite beautiful." She turned and +arranged her veil at the glass, and as she did so, her eyes fell on the +photographs of herself scattered over the mantelpiece, and she smiled +slightly. But Helen did not see her--she was sitting down now, pulling +at the books on the table. She was confused and disturbed by emotions +which were quite strange to her, and when Marion bade her good-by she +hardly noticed her departure. What impressed her most of all in what +Marion had told her, was, she was surprised to find, that Philip was +going away. That she herself had frequently urged him to do so, for his +own peace of mind, seemed now of no consequence. Now that he seriously +contemplated it, she recognized that his absence meant to her a change +in everything. She felt for the first time the peculiar place he held +in her life. Even if she had seen him but seldom, the fact that he was +within call had been more of a comfort and a necessity to her than she +understood. + +That he was poor, concerned her chiefly because she knew that, although +this condition could only be but temporary, it would distress him not to +have his friends around him, and to entertain them as he had been used +to do. She wondered eagerly if she might offer to help him, but a second +thought assured her that, for a man, that sort of help from a woman was +impossible. + +She resented the fact that Marion was deep in his confidence; that it +was Marion who had told her of his changed condition and of his plans. +It annoyed her so acutely that she could not remain in the room where +she had seen her so complacently in possession. And after leaving a +brief note for Philip, she went away. She stopped a hansom at the door, +and told the man to drive along the Embankment--she wanted to be quite +alone, and she felt she could see no one until she had thought it all +out, and had analyzed the new feelings. + +So for several hours she drove slowly up and down, sunk far back in +the cushions of the cab, and staring with unseeing eyes at the white +enamelled tariff and the black dash-board. + +She assured herself that she was not jealous of Marion, because, in +order to be jealous, she first would have to care for Philip in the very +way she could not bring herself to do. + +She decided that his interest in Marion hurt her, because it showed that +Philip was not capable of remaining true to the one ideal of his life. +She was sure that this explained her feelings--she was disappointed that +he had not kept up to his own standard; that he was weak enough to turn +aside from it for the first pretty pair of eyes. But she was too honest +and too just to accept that diagnosis of her feelings as final--she knew +there had been many pairs of eyes in America and in London, and that +though Philip had seen them, he had not answered them when they spoke. +No, she confessed frankly, she was hurt with herself for neglecting her +old friend so selfishly and for so long a time; his love gave him claims +on her consideration, at least, and she had forgotten that and him, and +had run after strange gods and allowed others to come in and take her +place, and to give him the sympathy and help which she should have been +the first to offer, and which would have counted more when coming from +her than from any one else. She determined to make amends at once +for her thoughtlessness and selfishness, and her brain was pleasantly +occupied with plans and acts of kindness. It was a new entertainment, +and she found she delighted in it. She directed the cabman to go to +Solomons's, and from there sent Philip a bunch of flowers and a line +saying that on the following day she was coming to take tea with him. +She had a guilty feeling that he might consider her friendly advances +more seriously than she meant them, but it was her pleasure to be +reckless: her feelings were running riotously, and the sensation was so +new that she refused to be circumspect or to consider consequences. Who +could tell, she asked herself with a quick, frightened gasp, but that, +after all, it might be that she was learning to care? From Solomons's +she bade the man drive to the shop in Cranbourne Street where she was +accustomed to purchase the materials she used in painting, and Fate, +which uses strange agents to work out its ends, so directed it that +the cabman stopped a few doors below this shop, and opposite one where +jewelry and other personal effects were bought and sold. At any other +time, or had she been in any other mood, what followed might not have +occurred, but Fate, in the person of the cabman, arranged it so that the +hour and the opportunity came together. + +There were some old mezzotints in the window of the loan shop, a string +of coins and medals, a row of new French posters; and far down to the +front a tray filled with gold and silver cigarette-cases and watches and +rings. It occurred to Helen, who was still bent on making restitution +for her neglect, that a cigarette-case would be more appropriate for a +man than flowers, and more lasting. And she scanned the contents of +the window with the eye of one who now saw in everything only something +which might give Philip pleasure. The two objects of value in the tray +upon which her eyes first fell were the gold seal-ring with which Philip +had sealed his letters to her, and, lying next to it, his gold watch! +There was something almost human in the way the ring and watch spoke to +her from the past--in the way they appealed to her to rescue them from +the surroundings to which they had been abandoned. She did not know what +she meant to do with them nor how she could return them to Philip; but +there was no question of doubt in her manner as she swept with a rush +into the shop. There was no attempt, either, at bargaining in the way +in which she pointed out to the young woman behind the counter the +particular ring and watch she wanted. They had not been left as +collateral, the young woman said; they had been sold outright. + +"Then any one can buy them?" Helen asked eagerly. "They are for sale to +the public--to any one?" + + +The young woman made note of the customer's eagerness, but with an +unmoved countenance. + +"Yes, miss, they are for sale. The ring is four pounds and the watch +twenty-five." + +"Twenty-nine pounds!" Helen gasped. + +That was more money than she had in the world, but the fact did not +distress her, for she had a true artistic disregard for ready money, and +the absence of it had never disturbed her. But now it assumed a sudden +and alarming value. She had ten pounds in her purse and ten pounds at +her studio--these were just enough to pay for a quarter's rent and the +rates, and there was a hat and cloak in Bond Street which she certainly +must have. Her only assets consisted of the possibility that some one +might soon order a miniature, and to her mind that was sufficient. Some +one always had ordered a miniature, and there was no reasonable doubt +but that some one would do it again. For a moment she questioned if it +would not be sufficient if she bought the ring and allowed the watch +to remain. But she recognized that the ring meant more to her than the +watch, while the latter, as an old heirloom which had been passed down +to him from a great-grandfather, meant more to Philip. It was for +Philip she was doing this, she reminded herself. She stood holding his +possessions, one in each hand, and looking at the young woman blankly. +She had no doubt in her mind that at least part of the money he had +received for them had paid for the flowers he had sent to her in +Scotland. The certainty of this left her no choice. She laid the ring +and watch down and pulled the only ring she possessed from her own +finger. It was a gift from Lady Gower. She had no doubt that it was of +great value. + +"Can you lend me some money on that?" she asked. It was the first time +she had conducted a business transaction of this nature, and she felt as +though she were engaging in a burglary. + +"We don't lend money, miss," the girl said, "we buy outright. I can give +you twenty-eight shillings for this," she added. + +"Twenty-eight shillings," Helen gasped; "why, it is worth--oh, ever so +much more than that!" + +"That is all it is worth to us," the girl answered. She regarded the +ring indifferently and laid it away from her on the counter. The action +was final. + +Helen's hands rose slowly to her breast, where a pretty watch dangled +from a bowknot of crushed diamonds. It was her only possession, and she +was very fond of it. It also was the gift of one of the several great +ladies who had adopted her since her residence in London. Helen had +painted a miniature of this particular great lady which had looked so +beautiful that the pleasure which the original of the portrait derived +from the thought that she still really looked as she did in the +miniature was worth more to her than many diamonds. + +But it was different with Helen, and no one could count what it cost her +to tear away her one proud possession. + +"What will you give me for this?" she asked defiantly. + +The girl's eyes showed greater interest. "I can give you twenty pounds +for that," she said. + +"Take it, please," Helen begged, as though she feared if she kept it a +moment longer she might not be able to make the sacrifice. + +"That will be enough now," she went on, taking out her ten-pound note. +She put Lady Gower's ring back upon her finger and picked up Philip's +ring and watch with the pleasure of one who has come into a great +fortune. She turned back at the door. + +"Oh," she stammered, "in case any one should inquire, you are not to say +who bought these." + +"No, miss, certainly not," said the woman. Helen gave the direction to +the cabman and, closing the doors of the hansom, sat looking down at the +watch and the ring, as they lay in her lap. The thought that they had +been his most valued possessions, which he had abandoned forever, and +that they were now entirely hers, to do with as she liked, filled her +with most intense delight and pleasure. She took up the heavy gold ring +and placed it on the little finger of her left hand; it was much too +large, and she removed it and balanced it for a moment doubtfully in the +palm of her right hand. She was smiling, and her face was lit with shy +and tender thoughts. She cast a quick glance to the left and right as +though fearful that people passing in the street would observe her, and +then slipped the ring over the fourth finger of her left hand. She gazed +at it with a guilty smile and then, covering it hastily with her other +hand, leaned back, clasping it closely, and sat frowning far out before +her with puzzled eyes. + +To Carroll all roads led past Helen's studio, and during the summer, +while she had been absent in Scotland it was one of his sad pleasures to +make a pilgrimage to her street and to pause opposite the house and look +up at the empty windows of her rooms. + +It was during this daily exercise that he learned, through the arrival +of her luggage, of her return to London, and when day followed day +without her having shown any desire to see him or to tell him of her +return he denounced himself most bitterly as a fatuous fool. + +At the end of the week he sat down and considered his case quite calmly. +For three years he had loved this girl, deeply and tenderly. He had been +lover, brother, friend, and guardian. During that time, even though she +had accepted him in every capacity except as that of the prospective +husband, she had never given him any real affection, nor sympathy, nor +help; all she had done for him had been done without her knowledge or +intent. To know her, to love her, and to scheme to give her pleasure had +been its own reward, and the only one. For the last few months he had +been living like a crossing-sweeper in order to be able to stay in +London until she came back to it, and that he might still send her the +gifts he had always laid on her altar. He had not seen her in three +months. Three months that had been to him a blank, except for his +work--which like all else that he did, was inspired and carried on for +her. Now at last she had returned and had shown that, even as a friend, +he was of so little account in her thoughts, of so little consequence in +her life, that after this long absence she had no desire to learn of his +welfare or to see him--she did not even give him the chance to see her. +And so, placing these facts before him for the first time since he had +loved her, he considered what was due to himself. "Was it good enough?" +he asked. "Was it just that he should continue to wear out his soul and +body for this girl who did not want what he had to give, who treated him +less considerately than a man whom she met for the first time at dinner?" +He felt he had reached the breaking-point; that the time had come when +he must consider what he owed to himself. There could never be any other +woman save Helen, but as it was not to be Helen, he could no longer, +with self-respect, continue to proffer his love only to see it slighted +and neglected. He was humble enough concerning himself, but of his love +he was very proud. Other men could give her more in wealth or position, +but no one could ever love her as he did. "He that hath more let +him give," he had often quoted to her defiantly, as though he were +challenging the world, and now he felt he must evolve a make-shift world +of his own--a world in which she was not his only spring of acts; he +must begin all over again and keep his love secret and sacred until she +understood it and wanted it. And if she should never want it he would at +least have saved it from many rebuffs and insults. + +With this determination strong in him, the note Helen had left for him +after her talk with Marion, and the flowers, and the note with them, +saying she was coming to take tea on the morrow, failed to move him +except to make him more bitter. He saw in them only a tardy recognition +of her neglect--an effort to make up to him for thoughtlessness which, +from her, hurt him worse than studied slight. + +A new regime had begun, and he was determined to establish it firmly and +to make it impossible for himself to retreat from it; and in the note +in which he thanked Helen for the flowers and welcomed her to tea, he +declared his ultimatum. + +"You know how terribly I feel," he wrote; "I don't have to tell you +that, but I cannot always go on dragging out my love and holding it up +to excite your pity as beggars show their sores. I cannot always go on +praying before your altar, cutting myself with knives and calling upon +you to listen to me. You know that there is no one else but you, and +that there never can be any one but you, and that nothing is changed +except that after this I am not going to urge and torment you. I shall +wait as I have always waited--only now I shall wait in silence. You know +just how little, in one way, I have to offer you, and you know just how +much I have in love to offer you. It is now for you to speak--some day, +or never. But you will have to speak first. You will never hear a word +of love from me again. Why should you? You know it is always waiting for +you. But if you should ever want it, you must come to me, and take off +your hat and put it on my table and say, 'Philip, I have come to stay.' +Whether you can ever do that or not can make no difference in my love +for you. I shall love you always, as no man has ever loved a woman in +this world, but it is you who must speak first; for me, the rest is +silence." + +The following morning as Helen was leaving the house she found this +letter lying on the hall-table, and ran back with it to her rooms. A +week before she would have let it lie on the table and read it on her +return. She was conscious that this was what she would have done, and it +pleased her to find that what concerned Philip was now to her the thing +of greatest interest. She was pleased with her own eagerness--her own +happiness was a welcome sign, and she was proud and glad that she was +learning to care. + +She read the letter with an anxious pride and pleasure in each word that +was entirely new. Philip's recriminations did not hurt her, they were +the sign that he cared; nor did his determination not to speak of his +love to her hurt her, for she believed him when he said that he would +always care. She read the letter twice, and then sat for some time +considering the kind of letter Philip would have written had he known +her secret--had he known that the ring he had abandoned was now upon her +finger. + +She rose and, crossing to a desk, placed the letter in a drawer, and +then took it out again and re-read the last page. When she had finished +it she was smiling. For a moment she stood irresolute, and then, moving +slowly toward the centre-table, cast a guilty look about her and, +raising her hands, lifted her veil and half withdrew the pins that +fastened her hat. + +"Philip," she began in a frightened whisper, "I have--I have come to--" + +The sentence ended in a cry of protest, and she rushed across the room +as though she were running from herself. She was blushing violently. + +"Never!" she cried, as she pulled open the door; "I could never do +it--never!" + +The following afternoon, when Helen was to come to tea, Carroll decided +that he would receive her with all the old friendliness, but that he +must be careful to subdue all emotion. + +He was really deeply hurt at her treatment, and had it not been that she +came on her own invitation he would not of his own accord have sought to +see her. In consequence, he rather welcomed than otherwise the arrival +of Marion Cavendish, who came a half-hour before Helen was expected, and +who followed a hasty knock with a precipitate entrance. + +"Sit down," she commanded breathlessly; "and listen. I've been at +rehearsal all day, or I'd have been here before you were awake." She +seated herself nervously and nodded her head at Carroll in an excited +and mysterious manner. + +"What is it?" he asked. "Have you and Reggie--" + +"Listen," Marion repeated, "our fortunes are made; that is what's the +matter--and I've made them. If you took half the interest in your work I +do, you'd have made yours long ago. Last night," she began impressively, +"I went to a large supper at the Savoy, and I sat next to Charley +Wimpole. He came in late, after everybody had finished, and I attacked +him while he was eating his supper. He said he had been rehearsing +'Caste' after the performance; that they've put it on as a stop-gap on +account of the failure of the 'Triflers,' and that he knew revivals were +of no use; that he would give any sum for a good modern comedy. That +was my cue, and I told him I knew of a better comedy than any he had +produced at his theatre in five years, and that it was going begging. +He laughed, and asked where was he to find this wonderful comedy, and +I said, 'It's been in your safe for the last two months and you haven't +read it.' He said, 'Indeed, how do you know that?' and I said, 'Because +if you'd read it, it wouldn't be in your safe, but on your stage.' So he +asked me what the play was about, and I told him the plot and what sort +of a part his was, and some of his scenes, and he began to take notice. +He forgot his supper, and very soon he grew so interested that he turned +his chair round and kept eying my supper-card to find out who I was, and +at last remembered seeing me in 'The New Boy'--and a rotten part it was, +too--but he remembered it, and he told me to go on and tell him more +about your play. So I recited it, bit by bit, and he laughed in all the +right places and got very much excited, and said finally that he would +read it the first thing this morning." Marion paused, breathlessly. "Oh, +yes, and he wrote your address on his cuff," she added, with the air of +delivering a complete and convincing climax. + +Carroll stared at her and pulled excitedly on his pipe. + +"Oh, Marion!" he gasped, "suppose he should? He won't though," he added, +but eying her eagerly and inviting contradiction. + +"He will," she answered, stoutly, "if he reads it." + +"The other managers read it," Carroll suggested, doubtfully. + +"Yes, but what do they know?" Marion returned, loftily. "He knows. +Charles Wimpole is the only intelligent actor-manager in London." + +There was a sharp knock at the door, which Marion in her excitement had +left ajar, and Prentiss threw it wide open with an impressive sweep, as +though he were announcing royalty: "Mr. Charles Wimpole," he said. + +The actor-manager stopped in the doorway bowing gracefully, his hat +held before him and his hand on his stick as though it were resting on a +foil. He had the face and carriage of a gallant of the days of Congreve, +and he wore his modern frock-coat with as much distinction as if it were +of silk and lace. He was evidently amused. "I couldn't help overhearing +the last line," he said, smiling. "It gives me a good entrance." + +Marion gazed at him blankly: "Oh," she gasped, "we--we--were just +talking about you." + +"If you hadn't mentioned my name," the actor said, "I should never have +guessed it. And this is Mr. Carroll, I hope." + +The great man was rather pleased with the situation. As he read it, it +struck him as possessing strong dramatic possibilities: Carroll was the +struggling author on the verge of starvation: Marion, his sweetheart, +flying to him gave him hope; and he was the good fairy arriving in the +nick of time to set everything right and to make the young people happy +and prosperous. He rather fancied himself in the part of the good fairy, +and as he seated himself he bowed to them both in a manner which was +charmingly inclusive and confidential. + +"Miss Cavendish, I imagine, has already warned you that you might expect +a visit from me," he said tentatively. Carroll nodded. He was too much +concerned to interrupt. + +"Then I need only tell you," Wimpole continued, "that I got up at an +absurd hour this morning to read your play; that I did read it; that I +like it immensely--and that if we can come to terms I shall produce it I +shall produce it at once, within a fortnight or three weeks." + +Carroll was staring at him intently and continued doing so after Wimpole +had finished speaking. The actor felt he had somehow missed his point, +or that Carroll could not have understood him, and repeated, "I say I +shall put it in rehearsal at once." + +Carroll rose abruptly, and pushed back his chair. "I should be very +glad," he murmured, and strode over to the window, where he stood with +his back turned to his guests. Wimpole looked after him with a kindly +smile and nodded his head appreciatively. He had produced even a greater +effect than his lines seemed to warrant. When he spoke again, it was +quite simply, and sincerely, and though he spoke for Carroll's benefit, +he addressed himself to Marion. + +"You were quite right last night," he said, "it is a most charming piece +of work. I am really extremely grateful to you for bringing it to my +notice." He rose, and going to Carroll, put his hand on his shoulder. +"My boy," he said, "I congratulate you. I should like to be your age, +and to have written that play. Come to my theatre to-morrow and we will +talk terms. Talk it over first with your friends, so that I sha'n't rob +you. Do you think you would prefer a lump sum now, and so be done with +it altogether, or trust that the royalties may--" + +"Royalties," prompted Marion, in an eager aside. + +The men laughed. "Quite right," Wimpole assented, good-humoredly; "it's +a poor sportsman who doesn't back his own horse. Well, then, until +to-morrow." + +"But," Carroll began, "one moment please. I haven't thanked you." + +"My dear boy," cried Wimpole, waving him away with his stick, "it is I +who have to thank you." + +"And--and there is a condition," Carroll said, "which goes with the +play. It is that Miss Cavendish is to have the part of Nancy." + +Wimpole looked serious and considered for a moment. + +"Nancy," he said, "the girl who interferes--a very good part. I have +cast Miss Maddox for it in my mind, but, of course, if the author +insists--" + +Marion, with her elbows on the table, clasped her hands appealingly +before her. + +"Oh, Mr. Wimpole!" she cried, "you owe me that, at least." + +Carroll leaned over and took both of Marion's hands in one of his. + +"It's all right," he said; "the author insists." + +Wimpole waved his stick again as though it were the magic wand of the +good fairy. + +"You shall have it," he said. "I recall your performance in 'The New +Boy' with pleasure. I take the play, and Miss Cavendish shall be cast +for Nancy. We shall begin rehearsals at once. I hope you are a quick +study." + +"I'm letter-perfect now{,}" laughed Marion. + +Wimpole turned at the door and nodded to them. They were both so young, +so eager, and so jubilant that he felt strangely old and out of it. +"Good-by, then," he said. + +"Good-by, sir," they both chorussed. And Marion cried after him, "And +thank you a thousand times." + +He turned again and looked back at them, but in their rejoicing they had +already forgotten him. "Bless you, my children," he said, smiling. As +he was about to close the door a young girl came down the passage toward +it, and as she was apparently going to Carroll's rooms, the actor left +the door open behind him. + +Neither Marion nor Carroll had noticed his final exit. They were both +gazing at each other as though, could they find speech, they would ask +if it were true. + +"It's come at last, Marion," Philip said, with an uncertain voice. + +"I could weep," cried Marion. "Philip," she exclaimed, "I would rather +see that play succeed than any play ever written, and I would rather +play that part in it than--Oh, Philip," she ended. "I'm so proud of +you!" and rising, she threw her arms about his neck and sobbed on his +shoulder. + +Carroll raised one of her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers +gently. "I owe it to you, Marion," he said--"all to you." + +This was the tableau that was presented through the open door to Miss +Helen Cabot, hurrying on her errand of restitution and good-will, and +with Philip's ring and watch clasped in her hand. They had not heard +her, nor did they see her at the door, so she drew back quickly and ran +along the passage and down the stairs into the street. + +She did not need now to analyze her feelings. They were only too +evident. For she could translate what she had just seen as meaning only +one thing--that she had considered Philip's love so lightly that she had +not felt it passing away from her until her neglect had killed it--until +it was too late. And now that it was too late she felt that without it +her life could not go on. She tried to assure herself that only the fact +that she had lost it made it seem invaluable, but this thought did not +comfort her--she was not deceived by it, she knew that at last she +cared for him deeply and entirely. In her distress she blamed herself +bitterly, but she also blamed Philip no less bitterly for having failed +to wait for her. "He might have known that I must love him in time," she +repeated to herself again and again. She was so unhappy that her letter +congratulating Philip on his good fortune in having his comedy accepted +seemed to him cold and unfeeling, and as his success meant for him only +what it meant to her, he was hurt and grievously disappointed. + +He accordingly turned the more readily to Marion, whose interests +and enthusiasm at the rehearsals of the piece seemed in contrast most +friendly and unselfish. He could not help but compare the attitude of +the two girls at this time, when the failure or success of his best work +was still undecided. He felt that as Helen took so little interest +in his success he could not dare to trouble her with his anxieties +concerning it, and she attributed his silence to his preoccupation and +interest in Marion. So the two grew apart, each misunderstanding the +other and each troubled in spirit at the other's indifference. + +The first night of the play justified all that Marion and Wimpole had +claimed for it, and was a great personal triumph for the new playwright. +The audience was the typical first-night audience of the class which +Charles Wimpole always commanded. It was brilliant, intelligent, and +smart, and it came prepared to be pleased. + +From one of the upper stage-boxes Helen and Lady Gower watched the +successful progress of the play with an anxiety almost as keen as that +of the author. To Helen it seemed as though the giving of these lines to +the public--these lines which he had so often read to her, and altered +to her liking--was a desecration. It seemed as though she were losing +him indeed--as though he now belonged to these strange people, all of +whom were laughing and applauding his words, from the German Princess +in the Royal box to the straight-backed Tommy in the pit. Instead of the +painted scene before her, she saw the birch-trees by the river at home, +where he had first read her the speech to which they were now listening +so intensely--the speech in which the hero tells the girl he loves her. +She remembered that at the time she had thought how wonderful it would +be if some day some one made such a speech to her--not Philip--but a man +she loved. And now? If Philip would only make that speech to her now! + +He came out at last, with Wimpole leading him, and bowed across a +glaring barrier of lights at a misty but vociferous audience that was +shouting the generous English bravo! and standing up to applaud. He +raised his eyes to the box where Helen sat, and saw her staring down +at the tumult, with her hands clasped under her chin. Her face was +colorless, but lit with the excitement of the moment; and he saw that +she was crying. + +Lady Gower, from behind her, was clapping her hands delightedly. + +"But, my dear Helen," she remonstrated breathlessly, "you never told me +he was so good-looking." + +"Yes," said Helen, rising abruptly, "he is--very good-looking." + +She crossed the box to where her cloak was hanging, but instead of +taking it down buried her face in its folds. + +"My dear child!" cried Lady Gower, in dismay. "What is it? The +excitement has been too much for you." + +"No, I am just happy," sobbed Helen. "I am just happy for him." + +"We will go and tell him so then," said Lady Gower. "I am sure he would +like to hear it from you to-night." + +Philip was standing in the centre of the stage, surrounded by many +pretty ladies and elderly men. Wimpole was hovering over him as though +he had claims upon him by the right of discovery. + +But when Philip saw Helen, he pushed his way toward her eagerly and took +her hand in both of his. + +"I am so glad, Phil," she said. She felt it all so deeply that she was +afraid to say more, but that meant so much to her that she was sure he +would understand. + +He had planned it very differently. For a year he had dreamed that, on +the first night of his play, there would be a supper, and that he would +rise and drink her health, and tell his friends and the world that she +was the woman he loved, and that she had agreed to marry him, and that +at last he was able, through the success of his play, to make her his +wife. + +And now they met in a crowd to shake hands, and she went her way with +one of her grand ladies, and he was left among a group of chattering +strangers. The great English playwright took him by the hand and in the +hearing of all, praised him gracefully and kindly. It did not matter +to Philip whether the older playwright believed what he said or not; he +knew it was generously meant. + +"I envy you this," the great man was saying. "Don't lose any of it, +stay and listen to all they have to say. You will never live through the +first night of your first play but once." + +"Yes, I hear them," said Philip, nervously; "they are all too kind. +But I don't hear the voice I have been listening for," he added in a +whisper. The older man pressed his hand again quickly. "My dear boy," he +said, "I am sorry." + +"Thank you," Philip answered. + +Within a week he had forgotten the great man's fine words of praise, but +the clasp of his hand he cherished always. + +Helen met Marion as she was leaving the stage door and stopped to +congratulate her on her success in the new part. Marion was radiant. To +Helen she seemed obstreperously happy and jubilant. + +"And, Marion," Helen began bravely, "I also want to congratulate you +on something else. You--you--neither of you have told me yet," she +stammered, "but I am such an old friend of both that I will not be kept +out of the secret." At these words Marion's air of triumphant gayety +vanished; she regarded Helen's troubled eyes closely and kindly. + +"What secret, Helen?" she asked. + +"I came to the door of Philip's room the other day when you did not know +I was there," Helen answered; "and I could not help seeing how matters +were. And I do congratulate you both--and wish you--oh, such happiness!" +Without a word Marion dragged her back down the passage to her +dressing-room, and closed the door. + +"Now tell me what you mean," she said. + +"I am sorry if I discovered anything you didn't want known yet," said +Helen, "but the door was open. Mr. Wimpole had just left you and had not +shut it, and I could not help seeing." + +Marion interrupted her with an eager exclamation of enlightenment. + +"Oh, you were there, then," she cried. "And you?" she asked +eagerly--"you thought Phil cared for me--that we are engaged, and it +hurt you; you are sorry? Tell me," she demanded, "are you sorry?" + +Helen drew back and stretched out her hand toward the door. + +"How can you!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "You have no right." + +Marion stood between her and the door. + +"I have every right," she said, "to help my friends, and I want to +help you and Philip. And indeed I do hope you ARE sorry. I hope you are +miserable. And I'm glad you saw me kiss him. That was the first and +the last time, and I did it because I was happy and glad for him; and +because I love him too, but not in the least in the way he loves you. No +one ever loved any one as he loves you. And it's time you found it out. +And if I have helped to make you find it out I'm glad, and I don't care +how much I hurt you." + +"Marion!" exclaimed Helen, "what does it mean? Do you mean that you are +not engaged; that--" + +"Certainly not," Marion answered. "I am going to marry Reggie. It is you +that Philip loves, and I am very sorry for you that you don't love him." + +Helen clasped Marion's hands in both of hers. + +"But, Marion!" she cried, "I do, oh, I do!" + + +There was a thick yellow fog the next morning, and with it rain and a +sticky, depressing dampness which crept through the window-panes, and +which neither a fire nor blazing gas-jets could overcome. + +Philip stood in front of the fireplace with the morning papers piled +high on the centre-table and scattered over the room about him. + +He had read them all, and he knew now what it was to wake up famous, but +he could not taste it. Now that it had come it meant nothing, and +that it was so complete a triumph only made it the harder. In his most +optimistic dreams he had never imagined success so satisfying as the +reality had proved to be; but in his dreams Helen had always held the +chief part, and without her, success seemed only to mock him. + +He wanted to lay it all before her, to say, "If you are pleased, I am +happy. If you are satisfied, then I am content. It was done for you, and +I am wholly yours, and all that I do is yours." + +And, as though in answer to his thoughts, there was an instant knock at +the door, and Helen entered the room and stood smiling at him across the +table. + +Her eyes were lit with excitement, and spoke with many emotions, and +her cheeks were brilliant with color. He had never seen her look more +beautiful. + +"Why, Helen!" he exclaimed, "how good of you to come. Is there anything +wrong? Is anything the matter?" + +She tried to speak, but faltered, and smiled at him appealingly. + +"What is it?" he asked in great concern. + +Helen drew in her breath quickly, and at the same moment motioned him +away--and he stepped back and stood watching her in much perplexity. + +With her eyes fixed on his she raised her hands to her head, and her +fingers fumbled with the knot of her veil. She pulled it loose, and +then, with a sudden courage, lifted her hat proudly, as though it were a +coronet, and placed it between them on his table. + +"Philip," she stammered, with the tears in her voice and eyes, "if you +will let me--I have come to stay." + +The table was no longer between them. He caught her in his arms and +kissed her face and her uncovered head again and again. From outside +the rain beat drearily and the fog rolled through the street, but inside +before the fire the two young people sat close together, asking eager +questions or sitting in silence, staring at the flames with wondering, +happy eyes. + + +The Lion and the Unicorn saw them only once again. It was a month later +when they stopped in front of the shop in a four-wheeler, with their +baggage mixed on top of it, and steamer-labels pasted over every trunk. + +"And, oh, Prentiss!" Carroll called from the cab-window. "I came near +forgetting. I promised to gild the Lion and the Unicorn if I won out in +London. So have it done, please, and send the bill to me. For I've won +out all right." And then he shut the door of the cab, and they drove +away forever. + +"Nice gal, that," growled the Lion. "I always liked her. I am glad +they've settled it at last." + +The Unicorn sighed, sentimentally. "The other one's worth two of her," +he said. + + + + +ON THE FEVER SHIP + +There were four rails around the ship's sides, the three lower ones of +iron and the one on top of wood, and as he looked between them from +the canvas cot he recognized them as the prison-bars which held him in. +Outside his prison lay a stretch of blinding blue water which ended in a +line of breakers and a yellow coast with ragged palms. Beyond that again +rose a range of mountain-peaks, and, stuck upon the loftiest peak of +all, a tiny block-house. It rested on the brow of the mountain against +the naked sky as impudently as a cracker-box set upon the dome of a +great cathedral. + +As the transport rode on her anchor-chains, the iron bars around her +sides rose and sank and divided the landscape with parallel lines. From +his cot the officer followed this phenomenon with severe, painstaking +interest. Sometimes the wooden rail swept up to the very block-house +itself, and for a second of time blotted it from sight. And again it +sank to the level of the line of breakers, and wiped them out of the +picture as though they were a line of chalk. + +The soldier on the cot promised himself that the next swell of the sea +would send the lowest rail climbing to the very top of the palm-trees +or, even higher, to the base of the mountains; and when it failed to +reach even the palm-trees he felt a distinct sense of ill use, of having +been wronged by some one. There was no other reason for submitting to +this existence, save these tricks upon the wearisome, glaring landscape; +and, now, whoever it was who was working them did not seem to be making +this effort to entertain him with any heartiness. + +It was most cruel. Indeed, he decided hotly, it was not to be endured; +he would bear it no longer, he would make his escape. But he knew that +this move, which could be conceived in a moment's desperation, could +only be carried to success with great strategy, secrecy, and careful +cunning. So he fell back upon his pillow and closed his eyes, as though +he were asleep, and then opening them again, turned cautiously, and +spied upon his keeper. As usual, his keeper sat at the foot of the +cot turning the pages of a huge paper filled with pictures of the war +printed in daubs of tawdry colors. His keeper was a hard-faced boy +without human pity or consideration, a very devil of obstinacy and +fiendish cruelty. To make it worse, the fiend was a person without a +collar, in a suit of soiled khaki, with a curious red cross bound by a +safety-pin to his left arm. He was intent upon the paper in his hands; +he was holding it between his eyes and his prisoner. His vigilance had +relaxed, and the moment seemed propitious. With a sudden plunge of arms +and legs, the prisoner swept the bed sheet from him, and sprang at the +wooden rail and grasped the iron stanchion beside it. He had his knee +pressed against the top bar and his bare toes on the iron rail beneath +it. Below him the blue water waited for him. It was cool and dark and +gentle and deep. It would certainly put out the fire in his bones, he +thought; it might even shut out the glare of the sun which scorched his +eyeballs. + +But as he balanced for the leap, a swift weakness and nausea swept over +him, a weight seized upon his body and limbs. He could not lift the +lower foot from the iron rail, and he swayed dizzily and trembled. He +trembled. He who had raced his men and beaten them up the hot hill to +the trenches of San Juan. But now he was a baby in the hands of a giant, +who caught him by the wrist and with an iron arm clasped him around his +waist and pulled him down, and shouted, brutally, "Help, some of you'se, +quick; he's at it again. I can't hold him." + +More giants grasped him by the arms and by the legs. One of them took +the hand that clung to the stanchion in both of his, and pulled back the +fingers one by one, saying, "Easy now, Lieutenant--easy." + +The ragged palms and the sea and block-house were swallowed up in a +black fog, and his body touched the canvas cot again with a sense of +home-coming and relief and rest. He wondered how he could have cared +to escape from it. He found it so good to be back again that for a long +time he wept quite happily, until the fiery pillow was moist and cool. + +The world outside of the iron bars was like a scene in a theatre set +for some great event, but the actors were never ready. He remembered +confusedly a play he had once witnessed before that same scene. Indeed, +he believed he had played some small part in it; but he remembered it +dimly, and all trace of the men who had appeared with him in it was +gone. He had reasoned it out that they were up there behind the range +of mountains, because great heavy wagons and ambulances and cannon were +emptied from the ships at the wharf above and were drawn away in long +lines behind the ragged palms, moving always toward the passes between +the peaks. At times he was disturbed by the thought that he should be up +and after them, that some tradition of duty made his presence with them +imperative. There was much to be done back of the mountains. Some event +of momentous import was being carried forward there, in which he held a +part; but the doubt soon passed from him, and he was content to lie and +watch the iron bars rising and falling between the block-house and the +white surf. + +If they had been only humanely kind, his lot would have been bearable, +but they starved him and held him down when he wished to rise; and they +would not put out the fire in the pillow, which they might easily have +done by the simple expedient of throwing it over the ship's side into +the sea. He himself had done this twice, but the keeper had immediately +brought a fresh pillow already heated for the torture and forced it +under his head. + +His pleasures were very simple, and so few that he could not understand +why they robbed him of them so jealously. One was to watch a green +cluster of bananas that hung above him from the awning twirling on a +string. He could count as many of them as five before the bunch turned +and swung lazily back again, when he could count as high as twelve; +sometimes when the ship rolled heavily he could count to twenty. It was +a most fascinating game, and contented him for many hours. But when they +found this out they sent for the cook to come and cut them down, and the +cook carried them away to his galley. + +Then, one day, a man came out from the shore, swimming through the blue +water with great splashes. He was a most charming man, who spluttered +and dove and twisted and lay on his back and kicked his legs in an +excess of content and delight. It was a real pleasure to watch him; +not for days had anything so amusing appeared on the other side of the +prison-bars. But as soon as the keeper saw that the man in the water +was amusing his prisoner, he leaned over the ship's side and shouted, +"Sa-ay, you, don't you know there's sharks in there?" + +And the swimming man said, "The h--ll there is!" and raced back to the +shore like a porpoise with great lashing of the water, and ran up the +beach half-way to the palms before he was satisfied to stop. Then +the prisoner wept again. It was so disappointing. Life was robbed of +everything now. He remembered that in a previous existence soldiers who +cried were laughed at and mocked. + +But that was so far away and it was such an absurd superstition that he +had no patience with it. For what could be more comforting to a man when +he is treated cruelly than to cry. It was so obvious an exercise, and +when one is so feeble that one cannot vault a four-railed barrier it is +something to feel that at least one is strong enough to cry. + +He escaped occasionally, traversing space with marvellous rapidity and +to great distances, but never to any successful purpose; and his flight +inevitably ended in ignominious recapture and a sudden awakening in +bed. At these moments the familiar and hated palms, the peaks and the +block-house were more hideous in their reality than the most terrifying +of his nightmares. + +These excursions afield were always predatory; he went forth always to +seek food. With all the beautiful world from which to elect and choose, +he sought out only those places where eating was studied and elevated +to an art. These visits were much more vivid in their detail than any he +had ever before made to these same resorts. They invariably began in +a carriage, which carried him swiftly over smooth asphalt. One route +brought him across a great and beautiful square, radiating with rows and +rows of flickering lights; two fountains splashed in the centre of the +square, and six women of stone guarded its approaches. One of the +women was hung with wreaths of mourning. Ahead of him the late twilight +darkened behind a great arch, which seemed to rise on the horizon of the +world, a great window into the heavens beyond. At either side strings +of white and colored globes hung among the trees, and the sound of music +came joyfully from theatres in the open air. He knew the restaurant +under the trees to which he was now hastening, and the fountain beside +it, and the very sparrows balancing on the fountain's edge; he knew +every waiter at each of the tables, he felt again the gravel crunching +under his feet, he saw the maitre d'hotel coming forward smiling to +receive his command, and the waiter in the green apron bowing at his +elbow, deferential and important, presenting the list of wines. But his +adventure never passed that point, for he was captured again and once +more bound to his cot with a close burning sheet. + +Or else, he drove more sedately through the London streets in the late +evening twilight, leaning expectantly across the doors of the hansom and +pulling carefully at his white gloves. Other hansoms flashed past him, +the occupant of each with his mind fixed on one idea--dinner. He was one +of a million of people who were about to dine, or who had dined, or who +were deep in dining. + +He was so famished, so weak for food of any quality, that the galloping +horse in the hansom seemed to crawl. The lights of the Embankment passed +like the lamps of a railroad station as seen from the window of an +express; and while his mind was still torn between the choice of a thin +or thick soup or an immediate attack upon cold beef, he was at the door, +and the chasseur touched his cap, and the little chasseur put the wicker +guard over the hansom's wheel. As he jumped out he said, "Give him +half-a-crown," and the driver called after him, "Thank you, sir." + +It was a beautiful world, this world outside of the iron bars. Every one +in it contributed to his pleasure and to his comfort. In this world he +was not starved nor manhandled. He thought of this joyfully as he leaped +up the stairs, where young men with grave faces and with their hands +held negligently behind their backs bowed to him in polite surprise at +his speed. But they had not been starved on condensed milk. He threw his +coat and hat at one of them, and came down the hall fearfully and quite +weak with dread lest it should not be real. His voice was shaking when +he asked Ellis if he had reserved a table. The place was all so real, it +must be true this time. The way Ellis turned and ran his finger down +the list showed it was real, because Ellis always did that, even when he +knew there would not be an empty table for an hour. The room was crowded +with beautiful women; under the light of the red shades they looked kind +and approachable, and there was food on every table, and iced drinks in +silver buckets. + +It was with the joy of great relief that he heard Ellis say to his +underling, "Numero cinq, sur la terrace, un couvert." It was real at +last. Outside, the Thames lay a great gray shadow. The lights of the +Embankment flashed and twinkled across it, the tower of the House of +Commons rose against the sky, and here, inside, the waiter was hurrying +toward him carrying a smoking plate of rich soup with a pungent +intoxicating odor. + +And then the ragged palms, the glaring sun, the immovable peaks, and +the white surf stood again before him. The iron rails swept up and sank +again, the fever sucked at his bones, and the pillow scorched his cheek. + +One morning for a brief moment he came back to real life again and lay +quite still, seeing everything about him with clear eyes and for the +first time, as though he had but just that instant been lifted over +the ship's side. His keeper, glancing up, found the prisoner's eyes +considering him curiously, and recognized the change. The instinct of +discipline brought him to his feet with his fingers at his sides. + +"Is the Lieutenant feeling better?" + +The Lieutenant surveyed him gravely. + +"You are one of our hospital stewards." + +"Yes, Lieutenant." + +"Why ar'n't you with the regiment?" + +"I was wounded, too, sir. I got it same time you did, Lieutenant." + +"Am I wounded? Of course, I remember. Is this a hospital ship?" + +The steward shrugged his shoulders. "She's one of the transports. They +have turned her over to the fever cases." + +The Lieutenant opened his lips to ask another question; but his own body +answered that one, and for a moment he lay silent. + +"Do they know up North that I--that I'm all right?" + +"Oh, yes, the papers had it in--there was pictures of the Lieutenant in +some of them." + +"Then I've been ill some time?" + +"Oh, about eight days." + +The soldier moved uneasily, and the nurse in him became uppermost. + +"I guess the Lieutenant hadn't better talk any more," he said. It was +his voice now which held authority. + +The Lieutenant looked out at the palms and the silent gloomy mountains +and the empty coast-line, where the same wave was rising and falling +with weary persistence. + +"Eight days," he said. His eyes shut quickly, as though with a sudden +touch of pain. He turned his head and sought for the figure at the foot +of the cot. Already the figure had grown faint and was receding and +swaying. + +"Has any one written or cabled?" the Lieutenant spoke, hurriedly. + +He was fearful lest the figure should disappear altogether before he +could obtain his answer. "Has any one come?" + +"Why, they couldn't get here, Lieutenant, not yet." + +The voice came very faintly. "You go to sleep now, and I'll run and +fetch some letters and telegrams. When you wake up, may be I'll have a +lot for you." + +But the Lieutenant caught the nurse by the wrist, and crushed his hand +in his own thin fingers. They were hot, and left the steward's skin wet +with perspiration. The Lieutenant laughed gayly. + +"You see, Doctor," he said, briskly, "that you can't kill me. I can't +die. I've got to live, you understand. Because, sir, she said she would +come. She said if I was wounded, or if I was ill, she would come to me. +She didn't care what people thought. She would come any way and nurse +me--well, she will come. + +"So, Doctor--old man--" He plucked at the steward's sleeve, and stroked +his hand eagerly, "old man--" he began again, beseechingly, "you'll +not let me die until she comes, will you? What? No, I know I won't die. +Nothing made by man can kill me. No, not until she comes. Then, after +that--eight days, she'll be here soon, any moment? What? You think so, +too? Don't you? Surely, yes, any moment. Yes, I'll go to sleep now, and +when you see her rowing out from shore you wake me. You'll know her; you +can't make a mistake. She is like--no, there is no one like her--but you +can't make a mistake." + +That day strange figures began to mount the sides of the ship, and to +occupy its every turn and angle of space. Some of them fell on their +knees and slapped the bare deck with their hands, and laughed and +cried out, "Thank God, I'll see God's country again!" Some of them +were regulars, bound in bandages; some were volunteers, dirty and +hollow-eyed, with long beards on boys' faces. Some came on crutches; +others with their arms around the shoulders of their comrades, staring +ahead of them with a fixed smile, their lips drawn back and their teeth +protruding. At every second step they stumbled, and the face of each was +swept by swift ripples of pain. + +They lay on cots so close together that the nurses could not walk +between them. They lay on the wet decks, in the scuppers, and along the +transoms and hatches. They were like shipwrecked mariners clinging to +a raft, and they asked nothing more than that the ship's bow be turned +toward home. Once satisfied as to that, they relaxed into a state of +self-pity and miserable oblivion to their environment, from which hunger +nor nausea nor aching bones could shake them. + +The hospital steward touched the Lieutenant lightly on the shoulder. + +"We are going North, sir," he said. "The transport's ordered North to +New York, with these volunteers and the sick and wounded. Do you hear +me, sir?" + +The Lieutenant opened his eyes. "Has she come?" he asked. + +"Gee!" exclaimed the hospital steward. He glanced impatiently at the +blue mountains and the yellow coast, from which the transport was +drawing rapidly away. + +"Well, I can't see her coming just now," he said. "But she will," he +added. + +"You let me know at once when she comes." + +"Why, cert'nly, of course," said the steward. + +Three trained nurses came over the side just before the transport +started North. One was a large, motherly-looking woman, with a German +accent. She had been a trained nurse, first in Berlin, and later in the +London Hospital in Whitechapel, and at Bellevue. + +The nurse was dressed in white, and wore a little silver medal at her +throat; and she was strong enough to lift a volunteer out of his cot and +hold him easily in her arms, while one of the convalescents pulled his +cot out of the rain. Some of the men called her "nurse;" others, who +wore scapulars around their necks, called her "Sister;" and the officers +of the medical staff addressed her as Miss Bergen. + +Miss Bergen halted beside the cot of the Lieutenant and asked, "Is this +the fever case you spoke about, Doctor--the one you want moved to the +officers' ward?" She slipped her hand up under his sleeve and felt his +wrist. + +"His pulse is very high," she said to the steward. "When did you take +his temperature?" She drew a little morocco case from her pocket and +from that took a clinical thermometer, which she shook up and down, +eying the patient meanwhile with a calm, impersonal scrutiny. The +Lieutenant raised his head and stared up at the white figure beside his +cot. His eyes opened and then shut quickly, with a startled look, in +which doubt struggled with wonderful happiness. His hand stole out +fearfully and warily until it touched her apron, and then, finding it +was real, he clutched it desperately, and twisting his face and body +toward her, pulled her down, clasping her hands in both of his, and +pressing them close to his face and eyes and lips. He put them from him +for an instant, and looked at her through his tears. + +"Sweetheart," he whispered, "sweetheart, I knew you'd come." + +As the nurse knelt on the deck beside him, her thermometer slipped from +her fingers and broke, and she gave an exclamation of annoyance. The +young Doctor picked up the pieces and tossed them overboard. Neither of +them spoke, but they smiled appreciatively. The Lieutenant was looking +at the nurse with the wonder and hope and hunger of soul in his eyes +with which a dying man looks at the cross the priest holds up before +him. What he saw where the German nurse was kneeling was a tall, fair +girl with great bands and masses of hair, with a head rising like a lily +from a firm, white throat, set on broad shoulders above a straight back +and sloping breast--a tall, beautiful creature, half-girl, half-woman, +who looked back at him shyly, but steadily. + +"Listen," he said. + +The voice of the sick man was so sure and so sane that the young Doctor +started, and moved nearer to the head of the cot. "Listen, dearest," the +Lieutenant whispered. "I wanted to tell you before I came South. But I +did not dare; and then I was afraid something might happen to me, and I +could never tell you, and you would never know. So I wrote it to you in +the will I made at Baiquiri, the night before the landing. If you hadn't +come now, you would have learned it in that way. You would have read +there that there never was any one but you; the rest were all dream +people, foolish, silly--mad. There is no one else in the world but you; +you have been the only thing in life that has counted. I thought I might +do something down here that would make you care. But I got shot going +up a hill, and after that I wasn't able to do anything. It was very hot, +and the hills were on fire; and they took me prisoner, and kept me tied +down here, burning on these coals. I can't live much longer, but now +that I have told you I can have peace. They tried to kill me before you +came; but they didn't know I loved you, they didn't know that men who +love you can't die. They tried to starve my love for you, to burn it out +of me; they tried to reach it with their knives. But my love for you +is my soul, and they can't kill a man's soul. Dear heart, I have lived +because you lived. Now that you know--now that you understand--what does +it matter?" + +Miss Bergen shook her head with great vigor. "Nonsense," she said, +cheerfully. "You are not going to die. As soon as we move you out of +this rain, and some food cook--" + +"Good God!" cried the young Doctor, savagely. "Do you want to kill him?" + +When she spoke the patient had thrown his arms heavily across his face, +and had fallen back, lying rigid on the pillow. + +The Doctor led the way across the prostrate bodies, apologizing as he +went. "I am sorry I spoke so quickly," he said, "but he thought you were +real. I mean he thought you were some one he really knew--" + +"He was just delirious," said the German nurse, calmly. + +The Doctor mixed himself a Scotch and soda and drank it with a single +gesture. + +"Ugh!" he said to the ward-room. "I feel as though I'd been opening +another man's letters." + + +The transport drove through the empty seas with heavy, clumsy +upheavals, rolling like a buoy. Having been originally intended for the +freight-carrying trade, she had no sympathy with hearts that beat for +a sight of their native land, or for lives that counted their remaining +minutes by the throbbing of her engines. Occasionally, without apparent +reason, she was thrown violently from her course: but it was invariably +the case that when her stern went to starboard, something splashed in +the water on her port side and drifted past her, until, when it had +cleared the blades of her propeller, a voice cried out, and she was +swung back on her home-bound track again. + +The Lieutenant missed the familiar palms and the tiny block-house; and +seeing nothing beyond the iron rails but great wastes of gray water, he +decided he was on board a prison-ship, or that he had been strapped to +a raft and cast adrift. People came for hours at a time and stood at the +foot of his cot, and talked with him and he to them--people he had loved +and people he had long forgotten, some of whom he had thought were dead. +One of them he could have sworn he had seen buried in a deep trench, and +covered with branches of palmetto. He had heard the bugler, with tears +choking him, sound "taps;" and with his own hand he had placed the dead +man's campaign hat on the mound of fresh earth above the grave. Yet here +he was still alive, and he came with other men of his troop to speak to +him; but when he reached out to them they were gone--the real and the +unreal, the dead and the living--and even She disappeared whenever he +tried to take her hand, and sometimes the hospital steward drove her +away. + +"Did that young lady say when she was coming back again?" he asked the +steward. + +"The young lady! What young lady?" asked the steward, wearily. + +"The one who has been sitting there," he answered. He pointed with his +gaunt hand at the man in the next cot. + +"Oh, that young lady. Yes, she's coming back. She's just gone below to +fetch you some hard-tack." + +The young volunteer in the next cot whined grievously. + +"That crazy man gives me the creeps," he groaned. "He's always waking me +up, and looking at me as though he was going to eat me." + +"Shut your head," said the steward. "He's a better man crazy than you'll +ever be with the little sense you've got. And he has two Mauser holes +in him. Crazy, eh? It's a damned good thing for you that there was about +four thousand of us regulars just as crazy as him, or you'd never seen +the top of the hill." + +One morning there was a great commotion on deck, and all the +convalescents balanced themselves on the rail, shivering in their +pajamas, and pointed one way. The transport was moving swiftly and +smoothly through water as flat as a lake, and making a great noise with +her steam-whistle. The noise was echoed by many more steam-whistles; and +the ghosts of out-bound ships and tugs and excursion steamers ran past +her out of the mist and disappeared, saluting joyously. All of the +excursion steamers had a heavy list to the side nearest the transport, +and the ghosts on them crowded to that rail and waved handkerchiefs +and cheered. The fog lifted suddenly, and between the iron rails the +Lieutenant saw high green hills on either side of a great harbor. + +Houses and trees and thousands of masts swept past like a panorama; +and beyond was a mirage of three cities, with curling smoke-wreaths and +sky-reaching buildings, and a great swinging bridge, and a giant statue +of a woman waving a welcome home. + +The Lieutenant surveyed the spectacle with cynical disbelief. He was +far too wise and far too cunning to be bewitched by it. In his heart he +pitied the men about him, who laughed wildly, and shouted, and climbed +recklessly to the rails and ratlines. He had been deceived too often not +to know that it was not real. He knew from cruel experience that in +a few moments the tall buildings would crumble away, the thousands of +columns of white smoke that flashed like snow in the sun, the busy, +shrieking tug-boats, and the great statue would vanish into the sea, +leaving it gray and bare. He closed his eyes and shut the vision out. It +was so beautiful that it tempted him; but he would not be mocked, and he +buried his face in his hands. They were carrying the farce too far, he +thought. It was really too absurd; for now they were at a wharf which +was so real that, had he not known by previous suffering, he would have +been utterly deceived by it. And there were great crowds of smiling, +cheering people, and a waiting guard of honor in fresh uniforms, and +rows of police pushing the people this way and that; and these men about +him were taking it all quite seriously, and making ready to disembark, +carrying their blanket-rolls and rifles with them. + +A band was playing joyously, and the man in the next cot, who was being +lifted to a stretcher, said, "There's the Governor and his staff; that's +him in the high hat." It was really very well done. The Custom-house +and the Elevated Railroad and Castle Garden were as like to life as a +photograph, and the crowd was as well handled as a mob in a play. His +heart ached for it so that he could not bear the pain, and he turned his +back on it. It was cruel to keep it up so long. His keeper lifted him +in his arms, and pulled him into a dirty uniform which had belonged, +apparently, to a much larger man--a man who had been killed probably, +for there were dark-brown marks of blood on the tunic and breeches. When +he tried to stand on his feet, Castle Garden and the Battery disappeared +in a black cloud of night, just as he knew they would; but when he +opened his eyes from the stretcher, they had returned again. It was a +most remarkably vivid vision. They kept it up so well. Now the young +Doctor and the hospital steward were pretending to carry him down a +gang-plank and into an open space; and he saw quite close to him a long +line of policemen, and behind them thousands of faces, some of them +women's faces--women who pointed at him and then shook their heads and +cried, and pressed their hands to their cheeks, still looking at him. He +wondered why they cried. He did not know them, nor did they know him. No +one knew him; these people were only ghosts. + +There was a quick parting in the crowd. A man he had once known shoved +two of the policemen to one side, and he heard a girl's voice speaking +his name, like a sob; and She came running out across the open space and +fell on her knees beside the stretcher, and bent down over him, and he +was clasped in two young, firm arms. + +"Of course it is not real, of course it is not She," he assured himself. +"Because She would not do such a thing. Before all these people She +would not do it." + +But he trembled and his heart throbbed so cruelly that he could not bear +the pain. + +She was pretending to cry. + +"They wired us you had started for Tampa on the hospital ship," She was +saying, "and Aunt and I went all the way there before we heard you had +been sent North. We have been on the cars a week. That is why I missed +you. Do you understand? It was not my fault. I tried to come. Indeed, I +tried to come." + +She turned her head and looked up fearfully at the young Doctor. + +"Tell me, why does he look at me like that?" she asked. "He doesn't know +me. Is he very ill? Tell me the truth." She drew in her breath quickly. +"Of course you will tell me the truth." + +When she asked the question he felt her arms draw tight about his +shoulders. It was as though she was holding him to herself, and from +some one who had reached out for him. In his trouble he turned to his +old friend and keeper. His voice was hoarse and very low. + +"Is this the same young lady who was on the transport--the one you used +to drive away?" + +In his embarrassment, the hospital steward blushed under his tan, and +stammered. + +"Of course it's the same young lady," the Doctor answered briskly. "And +I won't let them drive her away." He turned to her, smiling gravely. "I +think his condition has ceased to be dangerous, madam," he said. + +People who in a former existence had been his friends, and Her brother, +gathered about his stretcher and bore him through the crowd and lifted +him into a carriage filled with cushions, among which he sank lower +and lower. Then She sat beside him, and he heard Her brother say to the +coachman, "Home, and drive slowly and keep on the asphalt." + +The carriage moved forward, and She put her arm about him and his head +fell on her shoulder, and neither of them spoke. The vision had lasted +so long now that he was torn with the joy that after all it might be +real. But he could not bear the awakening if it were not, so he raised +his head fearfully and looked up into the beautiful eyes above him. His +brows were knit, and he struggled with a great doubt and an awful joy. + +"Dearest," he said, "is it real?" + +"Is it real?" she repeated. + +Even as a dream, it was so wonderfully beautiful that he was satisfied +if it could only continue so, if but for a little while. + +"Do you think," he begged again, trembling, "that it is going to last +much longer?" + +She smiled, and, bending her head slowly, kissed him. + +"It is going to last--always," she said. + + + + +THE MAN WITH ONE TALENT + +The mass-meeting in the Madison Square Garden which was to help set +Cuba free was finished, and the people were pushing their way out of +the overheated building into the snow and sleet of the streets. They +had been greatly stirred and the spell of the last speaker still hung so +heavily upon them that as they pressed down the long corridor they were +still speaking loudly in his praise. + +A young man moved eagerly amongst them, and pushed his way to wherever a +voice was raised above the rest. He strained forward, listening openly, +as though he tried to judge the effect of the meeting by the verdict of +those about him. + +But the words he overheard seemed to clash with what he wished them to +be, and the eager look on his face changed to one of doubt and of grave +disappointment. When he had reached the sidewalk he stopped and stood +looking back alternately into the lighted hall and at the hurrying +crowds which were dispersing rapidly. He made a movement as though he +would recall them, as though he felt they were still unconvinced, as +though there was much still left unsaid. + +A fat stranger halted at his elbow to light his cigar, and glancing up +nodded his head approvingly. + +"Fine speaker, Senator Stanton, ain't he?" he said. + +The young man answered eagerly. "Yes," he assented, "he is a great +orator, but how could he help but speak well with such a subject?" + +"Oh, you ought to have heard him last November at Tammany Hall," the fat +stranger answered. "He wasn't quite up to himself to-night. He wasn't so +interested. Those Cubans are foreigners, you see, but you ought to +heard him last St. Patrick's day on Home Rule for Ireland. Then he was +talking! That speech made him a United States senator, I guess. I don't +just see how he expects to win out on this Cuba game. The Cubans haven't +got no votes." + +The young man opened his eyes in some bewilderment. + +"He speaks for the good of Cuba, for the sake of humanity," he ventured. + +"What?" inquired the fat stranger. "Oh, yes, of course. Well, I must be +getting on. Good-night, sir." + +The stranger moved on his way, but the young man still lingered +uncertainly in the snow-swept corridor shivering violently with the cold +and stamping his feet for greater comfort. His face was burned to a deep +red, which seemed to have come from some long exposure to a tropical +sun, but which held no sign of health. His cheeks were hollow and his +eyes were lighted with the fire of fever and from time to time he was +shaken by violent bursts of coughing which caused him to reach toward +one of the pillars for support. + +As the last of the lights went out in the Garden, the speaker of the +evening and three of his friends came laughing and talking down the long +corridor. Senator Stanton was a conspicuous figure at any time, and even +in those places where his portraits had not penetrated he was at once +recognized as a personage. Something in his erect carriage and an +unusual grace of movement, and the power and success in his face, made +men turn to look at him. He had been told that he resembled the +early portraits of Henry Clay, and he had never quite forgotten the +coincidence. + +The senator was wrapping the collar of his fur coat around his throat +and puffing contentedly at a fresh cigar, and as he passed, the night +watchman and the ushers bowed to the great man and stood looking after +him with the half-humorous, half-envious deference that the American +voter pays to the successful politician. At the sidewalk, the policemen +hurried to open the door of his carriage and in their eagerness made a +double line, through which he passed nodding to them gravely. The young +man who had stood so long in waiting pushed his way through the line to +his side. + +"Senator Stanton," he began timidly, "might I speak to you a moment? My +name is Arkwright; I am just back from Cuba, and I want to thank you for +your speech. I am an American, and I thank God that I am since you are +too, sir. No one has said anything since the war began that compares +with what you said to-night. You put it nobly, and I know, for I've been +there for three years, only I can't make other people understand it, and +I am thankful that some one can. You'll forgive my stopping you, sir, +but I wanted to thank you. I feel it very much." + +Senator Stanton's friends had already seated themselves in his carriage +and were looking out of the door and smiling with mock patience. But the +senator made no move to follow them. Though they were his admirers they +were sometimes skeptical, and he was not sorry that they should hear +this uninvited tribute. So he made a pretence of buttoning his long coat +about him, and nodded encouragingly to Arkwright to continue. "I'm glad +you liked it, sir," he said with the pleasant, gracious smile that +had won him a friend wherever it had won him a vote. "It is very +satisfactory to know from one who is well informed on the subject that +what I have said is correct. The situation there is truly terrible. You +have just returned, you say? Where were you--in Havana?" + +"No, in the other provinces, sir," Arkwright answered. "I have been all +over the island, I am a civil engineer. The truth has not been half +told about Cuba, I assure you, sir. It is massacre there, not war. It is +partly so through ignorance, but nevertheless it is massacre. And what +makes it worse is, that it is the massacre of the innocents. That is +what I liked best of what you said in that great speech, the part about +the women and children." + +He reached out his hands detainingly, and then drew back as though in +apology for having already kept the great man so long waiting in the +cold. "I wish I could tell you some of the terrible things I have seen," +he began again, eagerly as Stanton made no movement to depart. "They are +much worse than those you instanced to-night, and you could make so much +better use of them than any one else. I have seen starving women nursing +dead babies, and sometimes starving babies sucking their dead mother's +breasts; I have seen men cut down in the open roads and while digging +in the fields--and two hundred women imprisoned in one room without +food and eaten with small-pox, and huts burned while the people in them +slept--" + +The young man had been speaking impetuously, but he stopped as suddenly, +for the senator was not listening to him. He had lowered his eyes +and was looking with a glance of mingled fascination and disgust at +Arkwright's hands. In his earnestness the young man had stretched them +out, and as they showed behind the line of his ragged sleeves the others +could see, even in the blurred light and falling snow, that the wrists +of each hand were gashed and cut in dark-brown lines like the skin of a +mulatto, and in places were a raw red, where the fresh skin had but just +closed over. The young man paused and stood shivering, still holding his +hands out rigidly before him. + +The senator raised his eyes slowly and drew away. + +"What is that?" he said in a low voice, pointing with a gloved finger at +the black lines on the wrists. + +A sergeant in the group of policemen who had closed around the speakers +answered him promptly from his profound fund of professional knowledge. + +"That's handcuffs, senator," he said importantly, and glanced at +Stanton as though to signify that at a word from him he would take this +suspicious character into custody. The young man pulled the frayed cuffs +of his shirt over his wrists and tucked his hands, which the cold had +frozen into an ashy blue, under his armpits to warm them. + +"No, they don't use handcuffs in the field," he said in the same low, +eager tone; "they use ropes and leather thongs; they fastened me behind +a horse and when he stumbled going down the trail it jerked me forward +and the cords would tighten and tear the flesh. But they have had a long +time to heal now. I have been eight months in prison." + +The young men at the carriage window had ceased smiling and were +listening intently. One of them stepped out and stood beside the +carriage door looking down at the shivering figure before him with a +close and curious scrutiny. + +"Eight months in prison!" echoed the police sergeant with a note of +triumph; "what did I tell you?" + +"Hold your tongue!" said the young man at the carriage door. There was +silence for a moment, while the men looked at the senator, as though +waiting for him to speak. + +"Where were you in prison, Mr. Arkwright?" he asked. + +"First in the calaboose at Santa Clara for two months, and then +in Cabanas. The Cubans who were taken when I was, were shot by the +fusillade on different days during this last month. Two of them, the +Ezetas, were father and son, and the Volunteer band played all the time +the execution was going on, so that the other prisoners might not hear +them cry 'Cuba Libre' when the order came to fire. But we heard them." + +The senator shivered slightly and pulled his fur collar up farther +around his face. "I'd like to talk with you," he said, "if you have +nothing to do to-morrow. I'd like to go into this thing thoroughly. +Congress must be made to take some action." + +The young man clasped his hands eagerly. "Ah, Mr. Stanton, if you +would," he cried, "if you would only give me an hour! I could tell you +so much that you could use. And you can believe what I say, sir--it is +not necessary to lie--God knows the truth is bad enough. I can give you +names and dates for everything I say. Or I can do better than that, sir. +I can take you there yourself--in three months I can show you all you +need to see, without danger to you in any way. And they would not know +me, now that I have grown a beard, and I am a skeleton to what I was. +I can speak the language well, and I know just what you should see, and +then you could come back as one speaking with authority and not have to +say, 'I have read,' or 'have been told,' but you can say, 'These are the +things I have seen'--and you could free Cuba." + +The senator coughed and put the question aside for the moment with a +wave of the hand that held his cigar. "We will talk of that to-morrow +also. Come to lunch with me at one. My apartments are in the Berkeley +on Fifth Avenue. But aren't you afraid to go back there?" he asked +curiously. "I should think you'd had enough of it. And you've got a +touch of fever, haven't you?" He leaned forward and peered into the +other's eyes. + +"It is only the prison fever," the young man answered; "food and this +cold will drive that out of me. And I must go back. There is so much to +do there," he added. "Ah, if I could tell them, as you can tell them, +what I feel here." He struck his chest sharply with his hand, and on the +instant fell into a fit of coughing so violent that the young man at +the carriage door caught him around the waist, and one of the policemen +supported him from the other side. + +"You need a doctor," said the senator kindly. "I'll ask mine to have a +look at you. Don't forget, then, at one o'clock to-morrow. We will go +into this thing thoroughly." He shook Arkwright warmly by the hand and +stooping stepped into the carriage. The young man who had stood at the +door followed him and crowded back luxuriously against the cushions. +The footman swung himself up beside the driver, and said "Uptown +Delmonico's," as he wrapped the fur rug around his legs, and with +a salute from the policemen and a scraping of hoofs on the slippery +asphalt the great man was gone. + +"That poor fellow needs a doctor," he said as the carriage rolled up +the avenue, "and he needs an overcoat, and he needs food. He needs about +almost everything, by the looks of him." + +But the voice of the young man in the corner of the carriage objected +drowsily-- + +"On the contrary," he said, "it seemed to me that he had the one thing +needful." + +By one o'clock of the day following, Senator Stanton, having read the +reports of his speech in the morning papers, punctuated with "Cheers," +"Tremendous enthusiasm" and more "Cheers," was still in a willing frame +of mind toward Cuba and her self-appointed envoy, young Mr. Arkwright. + +Over night he had had doubts but that the young man's enthusiasm would +bore him on the morrow, but Mr. Arkwright, when he appeared, developed, +on the contrary, a practical turn of mind which rendered his suggestions +both flattering and feasible. He was still terribly in earnest, but +he was clever enough or serious enough to see that the motives which +appealed to him might not have sufficient force to move a successful +statesman into action. So he placed before the senator only those +arguments and reasons which he guessed were the best adapted to +secure his interest and his help. His proposal as he set it forth was +simplicity itself. + +"Here is a map of the island," he said; "on it I have marked the places +you can visit in safety, and where you will meet the people you ought to +see. If you leave New York at midnight you can reach Tampa on the second +day. From Tampa we cross in another day to Havana. There you can visit +the Americans imprisoned in Morro and Cabanas, and in the streets you +can see the starving pacificos. From Havana I shall take you by rail to +Jucaro, Matanzas, Santa Clara and Cienfuegos. You will not be able +to see the insurgents in the fields--it is not necessary that you +should--but you can visit one of the sugar plantations and some of the +insurgent chiefs will run the forts by night and come in to talk with +you. I will show you burning fields and houses, and starving men and +women by the thousands, and men and women dying of fevers. You can see +Cuban prisoners shot by a firing squad and you can note how these rebels +meet death. You can see all this in three weeks and be back in New York +in a month, as any one can see it who wishes to learn the truth. Why, +English members of Parliament go all the way to India and British +Columbia to inform themselves about those countries, they travel +thousands of miles, but only one member of either of our houses of +Congress has taken the trouble to cross these eighty miles of water that +lie between us and Cuba. You can either go quietly and incognito, as +it were, or you can advertise the fact of your going, which would be +better. And from the moment you start the interest in your visit will +grow and increase until there will be no topic discussed in any of our +papers except yourself, and what you are doing and what you mean to do. + +"By the time you return the people will be waiting, ready and eager to +hear whatever you may have to say. Your word will be the last word for +them. It is not as though you were some demagogue seeking notoriety, or +a hotel piazza correspondent at Key West or Jacksonville. You are the +only statesman we have, the only orator Americans will listen to, and I +tell you that when you come before them and bring home to them as +only you can the horrors of this war, you will be the only man in this +country. You will be the Patrick Henry of Cuba; you can go down to +history as the man who added the most beautiful island in the seas to +the territory of the United States, who saved thousands of innocent +children and women, and who dared to do what no other politician has +dared to do--to go and see for himself and to come back and speak the +truth. It only means a month out of your life, a month's trouble and +discomfort, but with no risk. What is a month out of a lifetime, when +that month means immortality to you and life to thousands? In a month +you would make a half dozen after-dinner speeches and cause your friends +to laugh and applaud. Why not wring their hearts instead, and hold this +thing up before them as it is, and shake it in their faces? Show it to +them in all its horror--bleeding, diseased and naked, an offence to our +humanity, and to our prated love of liberty, and to our God." + +The young man threw himself eagerly forward and beat the map with his +open palm. But the senator sat apparently unmoved gazing thoughtfully +into the open fire, and shook his head. + +While the luncheon was in progress the young gentleman who the night +before had left the carriage and stood at Arkwright's side, had entered +the room and was listening intently. He had invited himself to some +fresh coffee, and had then relapsed into an attentive silence, following +what the others said with an amused and interested countenance. Stanton +had introduced him as Mr. Livingstone, and appeared to take it for +granted that Arkwright would know who he was. He seemed to regard him +with a certain deference which Arkwright judged was due to some fixed +position the young man held, either of social or of political value. + +"I do not know," said Stanton with consideration, "that I am prepared to +advocate the annexation of the island. It is a serious problem." + +"I am not urging that," Arkwright interrupted anxiously; "the +Cubans themselves do not agree as to that, and in any event it is an +afterthought. Our object now should be to prevent further bloodshed. If +you see a man beating a boy to death, you first save the boy's life +and decide afterward where he is to go to school. If there were any one +else, senator," Arkwright continued earnestly, "I would not trouble you. +But we all know your strength in this country. You are independent and +fearless, and men of both parties listen to you. Surely, God has given +you this great gift of oratory, if you will forgive my speaking so, to +use only in a great cause. A grand organ in a cathedral is placed there +to lift men's thoughts to high resolves and purposes, not to make people +dance. A street organ can do that. Now, here is a cause worthy of your +great talents, worthy of a Daniel Webster, of a Henry Clay." + +The senator frowned at the fire and shook his head doubtfully. + +"If they knew what I was down there for," he asked, "wouldn't they put +me in prison too?" + +Arkwright laughed incredulously. + +"Certainly not," he said; "you would go there as a private citizen, as +a tourist to look on and observe. Spain is not seeking complications +of that sort. She has troubles enough without imprisoning United States +senators." + +"Yes; but these fevers now," persisted Stanton, "they're no respecter +of persons, I imagine. A United States senator is not above smallpox or +cholera." + +Arkwright shook his head impatiently and sighed. + +"It is difficult to make it clear to one who has not been there," he +said. "These people and soldiers are dying of fever because they are +forced to live like pigs, and they are already sick with starvation. A +healthy man like yourself would be in no more danger than you would be +in walking through the wards of a New York hospital." + +Senator Stanton turned in his armchair, and held up his hand +impressively. + +"If I were to tell them the things you have told me," he said warningly, +"if I were to say I have seen such things--American property in flames, +American interests ruined, and that five times as many women and +children have died of fever and starvation in three months in Cuba as +the Sultan has massacred in Armenia in three years--it would mean war +with Spain." + +"Well?" said Arkwright. + +Stanton shrugged his shoulders and sank back again in his chair. + +"It would either mean war," Arkwright went on, "or it might mean the +sending of the Red Cross army to Cuba. It went to Constantinople, five +thousand miles away, to help the Armenian Christians--why has it waited +three years to go eighty miles to feed and clothe the Cuban women and +children? It is like sending help to a hungry peasant in Russia while a +man dies on your doorstep." + +"Well," said the senator, rising, "I will let you know to-morrow. +If it is the right thing to do, and if I can do it, of course it must +be done. We start from Tampa, you say? I know the presidents of all +of those roads and they'll probably give me a private car for the trip +down. Shall we take any newspaper men with us, or shall I wait until I +get back and be interviewed? What do you think?" + +"I would wait until my return," Arkwright answered, his eyes glowing +with the hope the senator's words had inspired, "and then speak to a +mass-meeting here and in Boston and in Chicago. Three speeches will be +enough. Before you have finished your last one the American warships +will be in the harbor of Havana." + +"Ah, youth, youth!" said the senator, smiling gravely, "it is no light +responsibility to urge a country into war." + +"It is no light responsibility," Arkwright answered, "to know you +have the chance to save the lives of thousands of little children and +helpless women and to let the chance pass." + +"Quite so, that is quite true," said the senator. "Well, good-morning. I +shall let you know to-morrow." + +Young Livingstone went down in the elevator with Arkwright, and when +they had reached the sidewalk stood regarding him for a moment in +silence. + +"You mustn't count too much on Stanton, you know," he said kindly; "he +has a way of disappointing people." + +"Ah, he can never disappoint me," Arkwright answered confidently, "no +matter how much I expected. Besides, I have already heard him speak." + +"I don't mean that, I don't mean he is disappointing as a speaker. +Stanton is a great orator, I think. Most of those Southerners are, and +he's the only real orator I ever heard. But what I mean is, that he +doesn't go into things impulsively; he first considers himself, and then +he considers every other side of the question before he commits himself +to it. Before he launches out on a popular wave he tries to find out +where it is going to land him. He likes the sort of popular wave that +carries him along with it where every one can see him; he doesn't fancy +being hurled up on the beach with his mouth full of sand." + +"You are saying that he is selfish, self-seeking?" Arkwright demanded +with a challenge in his voice. "I thought you were his friend." + +"Yes, he is selfish, and yes, I am his friend," the young man answered, +smiling; "at least, he seems willing to be mine. I am saying nothing +against him that I have not said to him. If you'll come back with me up +the elevator I'll tell him he's a self-seeker and selfish, and with +no thought above his own interests. He won't mind. He'd say I cannot +comprehend his motives. Why, you've only to look at his record. When the +Venezuelan message came out he attacked the President and declared he +was trying to make political capital and to drag us into war, and that +what we wanted was arbitration; but when the President brought out the +Arbitration Treaty he attacked that too in the Senate and destroyed +it. Why? Not because he had convictions, but because the President had +refused a foreign appointment to a friend of his in the South. He has +been a free silver man for the last ten years, he comes from a free +silver state, and the members of the legislature that elected him were +all for silver, but this last election his Wall Street friends got hold +of him and worked on his feelings, and he repudiated his party, his +state, and his constituents and came out for gold." + +"Well, but surely," Arkwright objected, "that took courage? To own that +for ten years you had been wrong, and to come out for the right at the +last." + +Livingstone stared and shrugged his shoulders. "It's all a question of +motives," he said indifferently. "I don't want to shatter your idol; I +only want to save you from counting too much on him." + +When Arkwright called on the morrow Senator Stanton was not at home, +and the day following he was busy, and could give him only a brief +interview. There were previous engagements and other difficulties in the +way of his going which he had not foreseen, he said, and he feared he +should have to postpone his visit to Cuba indefinitely. He asked if Mr. +Arkwright would be so kind as to call again within a week; he would then +be better able to give him a definite answer. + +Arkwright left the apartment with a sensation of such keen +disappointment that it turned him ill and dizzy. He felt that the great +purpose of his life was being played with and put aside. But he had not +selfish resentment on his own account; he was only the more determined +to persevere. He considered new arguments and framed new appeals; and +one moment blamed himself bitterly for having foolishly discouraged the +statesman by too vivid pictures of the horrors he might encounter, and +the next, questioned if he had not been too practical and so failed +because he had not made the terrible need of immediate help his sole +argument. Every hour wasted in delay meant, as he knew, the sacrifice +of many lives, and there were other, more sordid and more practical, +reasons for speedy action. For his supply of money was running low and +there was now barely enough remaining to carry him through the month of +travel he had planned to take at Stanton's side. What would happen to +him when that momentous trip was over was of no consequence. He would +have done the work as far as his small share in it lay, he would have +set in motion a great power that was to move Congress and the people of +the United States to action. If he could but do that, what became of him +counted for nothing. + +But at the end of the week his fears and misgivings were scattered +gloriously and a single line from the senator set his heart leaping and +brought him to his knees in gratitude and thanksgiving. On returning one +afternoon to the mean lodging into which he had moved to save his money, +he found a telegram from Stanton and he tore it open trembling between +hope and fear. + +"Have arranged to leave for Tampa with you Monday, at midnight" it read. +"Call for me at ten o'clock same evening.--STANTON." + +Arkwright read the message three times. There was a heavy, suffocating +pressure at his heart as though it had ceased beating. He sank back +limply upon the edge of his bed and clutching the piece of paper in his +two hands spoke the words aloud triumphantly as though to assure himself +that they were true. Then a flood of unspeakable relief, of happiness +and gratitude, swept over him, and he turned and slipped to the floor, +burying his face in the pillow, and wept out his thanks upon his knees. + +A man so deeply immersed in public affairs as was Stanton and with +such a multiplicity of personal interests, could not prepare to absent +himself for a month without his intention becoming known, and on the +day when he was to start for Tampa the morning newspapers proclaimed the +fact that he was about to visit Cuba. They gave to his mission all +the importance and display that Arkwright had foretold. Some of the +newspapers stated that he was going as a special commissioner of the +President to study and report; others that he was acting in behalf +of the Cuban legation in Washington and had plenipotentiary powers. +Opposition organs suggested that he was acting in the interests of +the sugar trust, and his own particular organ declared that it was his +intention to free Cuba at the risk of his own freedom, safety, and even +life. + +The Spanish minister in Washington sent a cable for publication to +Madrid, stating that a distinguished American statesman was about +to visit Cuba, to investigate, and, later, to deny the truth of the +disgraceful libels published concerning the Spanish officials on the +island by the papers of the United States. At the same time he cabled +in cipher to the captain-general in Havana to see that the distinguished +statesman was closely spied upon from the moment of his arrival until +his departure, and to place on the "suspect" list all Americans and +Cubans who ventured to give him any information. + +The afternoon papers enlarged on the importance of the visit and on the +good that would surely come of it. They told that Senator Stanton had +refused to be interviewed or to disclose the object of his journey. But +it was enough, they said, that some one in authority was at last to seek +out the truth, and added that no one would be listened to with greater +respect than would the Southern senator. On this all the editorial +writers were agreed. + +The day passed drearily for Arkwright. Early in the morning he packed +his valise and paid his landlord, and for the remainder of the day +walked the streets or sat in the hotel corridor waiting impatiently for +each fresh edition of the papers. In them he read the signs of the great +upheaval of popular feeling that was to restore peace and health and +plenty to the island for which he had given his last three years of +energy and life. + +He was trembling with excitement, as well as with the cold, when at ten +o'clock precisely he stood at Senator Stanton's door. He had forgotten +to eat his dinner, and the warmth of the dimly lit hall and the odor of +rich food which was wafted from an inner room touched his senses with +tantalizing comfort. + +"The senator says you are to come this way, sir," the servant directed. +He took Arkwright's valise from his hand and parted the heavy curtains +that hid the dining-room, and Arkwright stepped in between them and then +stopped in some embarrassment. He found himself in the presence of a +number of gentlemen seated at a long dinner-table, who turned their +heads as he entered and peered at him through the smoke that floated in +light layers above the white cloth. The dinner had been served, but the +senator's guests still sat with their chairs pushed back from a table +lighted by candles under yellow shades, and covered with beautiful +flowers and with bottles of varied sizes in stands of quaint and +intricate design. Senator Stanton's tall figure showed dimly through the +smoke, and his deep voice hailed Arkwright cheerily from the farther end +of the room. "This way, Mr. Arkwright," he said. "I have a chair waiting +for you here." He grasped Arkwright's hand warmly and pulled him into +the vacant place at his side. An elderly gentleman on Arkwright's other +side moved to make more room for him and shoved a liqueur glass toward +him with a friendly nod and pointed at an open box of cigars. He was a +fine-looking man, and Arkwright noticed that he was regarding him with +a glance of the keenest interest. All of those at the table were men of +twice Arkwright's age, except Livingstone, whom he recognized and +who nodded to him pleasantly and at the same time gave an order to a +servant, pointing at Arkwright as he did so. Some of the gentlemen +wore their business suits, and one opposite Arkwright was still in his +overcoat, and held his hat in his hand. These latter seemed to have +arrived after the dinner had begun, for they formed a second line +back of those who had places at the table; they all seemed to know one +another and were talking with much vivacity and interest. + +Stanton did not attempt to introduce Arkwright to his guests +individually, but said: "Gentlemen, this is Mr. Arkwright, of whom I +have been telling you, the young gentleman who has done such magnificent +work for the cause of Cuba." Those who caught Arkwright's eye nodded to +him, and others raised their glasses at him, but with a smile that +he could not understand. It was as though they all knew something +concerning him of which he was ignorant. He noted that the faces of some +were strangely familiar, and he decided that he must have seen their +portraits in the public prints. After he had introduced Arkwright, the +senator drew his chair slightly away from him and turned in what seemed +embarrassment to the man on his other side. The elderly gentleman next +to Arkwright filled his glass, a servant placed a small cup of coffee at +his elbow, and he lit a cigar and looked about him. + +"You must find this weather very trying after the tropics," his neighbor +said. + +Arkwright assented cordially. The brandy was flowing through his veins +and warming him; he forgot that he was hungry, and the kind, interested +glances of those about him set him at his ease. It was a propitious +start, he thought, a pleasant leave-taking for the senator and himself, +full of good will and good wishes. + +He turned toward Stanton and waited until he had ceased speaking. + +"The papers have begun well, haven't they?" he asked, eagerly. + +He had spoken in a low voice, almost in a whisper, but those about the +table seemed to have heard him, for there was silence instantly and when +he glanced up he saw the eyes of all turned upon him and he noticed on +their faces the same smile he had seen there when he entered. + +"Yes," Stanton answered constrainedly. "Yes, I--" he lowered his voice, +but the silence still continued. Stanton had his eyes fixed on the +table, but now he frowned and half rose from his chair. + +"I want to speak with you, Arkwright," he said. "Suppose we go into the +next room. I'll be back in a moment," he added, nodding to the others. + +But the man on his right removed his cigar from his lips and said in an +undertone, "No, sit down, stay where you are;" and the elderly gentleman +at Arkwright's side laid his hand detainingly on his arm. "Oh, you won't +take Mr. Arkwright away from us, Stanton?" he asked, smiling. + +Stanton shrugged his shoulders and sat down again, and there was a +moment's pause. It was broken by the man in the overcoat, who laughed. + +"He's paying you a compliment, Mr. Arkwright," he said. He pointed with +his cigar to the gentleman at Arkwright's side. + +"I don't understand," Arkwright answered doubtfully. + +"It's a compliment to your eloquence--he's afraid to leave you alone +with the senator. Livingstone's been telling us that you are a better +talker than Stanton." Arkwright turned a troubled countenance toward the +men about the table, and then toward Livingstone, but that young man had +his eyes fixed gravely on the glasses before him and did not raise them. + +Arkwright felt a sudden, unreasonable fear of the circle of +strong-featured, serene and confident men about him. They seemed to +be making him the subject of a jest, to be enjoying something among +themselves of which he was in ignorance, but which concerned him +closely. He turned a white face toward Stanton. + +"You don't mean," he began piteously, "that--that you are not going? Is +that it--tell me--is that what you wanted to say?" + +Stanton shifted in his chair and muttered some words between his lips, +then turned toward Arkwright and spoke quite clearly and distinctly. + +"I am very sorry, Mr. Arkwright," he said, "but I am afraid I'll have to +disappoint you. Reasons I cannot now explain have arisen which make my +going impossible--quite impossible," he added firmly--"not only now, but +later," he went on quickly, as Arkwright was about to interrupt him. + +Arkwright made no second attempt to speak. He felt the muscles of his +face working and the tears coming to his eyes, and to hide his weakness +he twisted in his chair and sat staring ahead of him with his back +turned to the table. He heard Livingstone's voice break the silence with +some hurried question, and immediately his embarrassment was hidden in a +murmur of answers and the moving of glasses as the men shifted in their +chairs and the laughter and talk went on as briskly as before. Arkwright +saw a sideboard before him and a servant arranging some silver on one of +the shelves. He watched the man do this with a concentrated interest +as though the dull, numbed feeling in his brain caught at the trifle in +order to put off, as long as possible, the consideration of the truth. + +And then beyond the sideboard and the tapestry on the wall above it, he +saw the sun shining down upon the island of Cuba, he saw the royal palms +waving and bending, the dusty columns of Spanish infantry crawling along +the white roads and leaving blazing huts and smoking cane-fields in +their wake; he saw skeletons of men and women seeking for food among the +refuse of the street; he heard the order given to the firing squad, the +splash of the bullets as they scattered the plaster on the prison wall, +and he saw a kneeling figure pitch forward on its face, with a useless +bandage tied across its sightless eyes. + +Senator Stanton brought him back with a sharp shake of the shoulder. He +had also turned his back on the others, and was leaning forward with +his elbows on his knees. He spoke rapidly, and in a voice only slightly +raised above a whisper. + +"I am more than sorry, Arkwright," he said earnestly. "You mustn't blame +me altogether. I have had a hard time of it this afternoon. I wanted to +go. I really wanted to go. The thing appealed to me, it touched me, it +seemed as if I owed it to myself to do it. But they were too many for +me," he added with a backward toss of his head toward the men around his +table. + +"If the papers had not told on me I could have got well away," he went +on in an eager tone, "but as soon as they read of it, they came here +straight from their offices. You know who they are, don't you?" +he asked, and even in his earnestness there was an added touch of +importance in his tone as he spoke the name of his party's leader, of +men who stood prominently in Wall Street and who were at the head of +great trusts. + +"You see how it is," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "They have +enormous interests at stake. They said I would drag them into war, that +I would disturb values, that the business interests of the country would +suffer. I'm under obligations to most of them, they have advised me +in financial matters, and they threatened--they threatened to make +it unpleasant for me." His voice hardened and he drew in his breath +quickly, and laughed. "You wouldn't understand if I were to tell you. +It's rather involved. And after all, they may be right, agitation may +be bad for the country. And your party leader after all is your party +leader, isn't he, and if he says 'no' what are you to do? My sympathies +are just as keen for these poor women and children as ever, but as these +men say, 'charity begins at home,' and we mustn't do anything to bring +on war prices again, or to send stocks tumbling about our heads, must +we?" He leaned back in his chair again and sighed. "Sympathy is an +expensive luxury, I find," he added. + +Arkwright rose stiffly and pushed Stanton away from him with his hand. +He moved like a man coming out of a dream. + +"Don't talk to me like that," he said in a low voice. The noise about +the table ended on the instant, but Arkwright did not notice that it had +ceased. "You know I don't understand that," he went on; "what does it +matter to me!" He put his hand up to the side of his face and held it +there, looking down at Stanton. He had the dull, heavy look in his eyes +of a man who has just come through an operation under some heavy drug. +"'Wall Street,' 'trusts,' 'party leaders,'" he repeated, "what are they +to me? The words don't reach me, they have lost their meaning, it is a +language I have forgotten, thank God!" he added. He turned and moved his +eyes around the table, scanning the faces of the men before him. + +"Yes, you are twelve to one," he said at last, still speaking dully and +in a low voice, as though he were talking to himself. "You have won a +noble victory, gentlemen. I congratulate you. But I do not blame you, we +are all selfish and self-seeking. I thought I was working only for Cuba, +but I was working for myself, just as you are. I wanted to feel that it +was I who had helped to bring relief to that plague-spot, that it was +through my efforts the help had come. Yes, if he had done as I asked, I +suppose I would have taken the credit." + +He swayed slightly, and to steady himself caught at the back of his +chair. But at the same moment his eyes glowed fiercely and he held +himself erect again. He pointed with his finger at the circle of great +men who sat looking up at him in curious silence. + +"You are like a ring of gamblers around a gaming table," he cried +wildly, "who see nothing but the green cloth and the wheel and the piles +of money before them, who forget in watching the money rise and +fall, that outside the sun is shining, that human beings are sick and +suffering, that men are giving their lives for an idea, for a sentiment, +for a flag. You are the money-changers in the temple of this great +republic and the day will come, I pray to God, when you will be scourged +and driven out with whips. Do you think you can form combines and deals +that will cheat you into heaven? Can your 'trusts' save your souls--is +'Wall Street' the strait and narrow road to salvation?" + +The men about the table leaned back and stared at Arkwright in as great +amazement as though he had violently attempted an assault upon their +pockets, or had suddenly gone mad in their presence. Some of them +frowned, and others appeared not to have heard, and others smiled grimly +and waited for him to continue as though they were spectators at a play. + +The political leader broke the silence with a low aside to Stanton. +"Does the gentleman belong to the Salvation Army?" he asked. + +Arkwright whirled about and turned upon him fiercely. + +"Old gods give way to new gods," he cried. "Here is your brother. I am +speaking for him. Do you ever think of him? How dare you sneer at me?" +he cried. "You can crack your whip over that man's head and turn him +from what in his heart and conscience he knows is right; you can crack +your whip over the men who call themselves free-born American citizens +and who have made you their boss--sneer at them if you like, but you +have no collar on my neck. If you are a leader, why don't you lead your +people to what is good and noble? Why do you stop this man in the work +God sent him here to do? You would make a party hack of him, a political +prostitute, something lower than the woman who walks the streets. She +sells her body--this man is selling his soul." + +He turned, trembling and quivering, and shook his finger above the +upturned face of the senator. + +"What have you done with your talents, Stanton?" he cried. "What have +you done with your talents?" + +The man in the overcoat struck the table before him with his fist so +that the glasses rang. + +"By God," he laughed, "I call him a better speaker than Stanton! +Livingstone's right, he IS better than Stanton--but he lacks Stanton's +knack of making himself popular," he added. He looked around the table +inviting approbation with a smile, but no one noticed him, nor spoke to +break the silence. + +Arkwright heard the words dully and felt that he was being mocked. He +covered his face with his hands and stood breathing brokenly; his body +was still trembling with an excitement he could not master. + +Stanton rose from his chair and shook him by the shoulder. "Are you mad, +Arkwright?" he cried. "You have no right to insult my guests or me. Be +calm--control yourself." + +"What does it matter what I say?" Arkwright went on desperately. "I am +mad. Yes, that is it, I am mad. They have won and I have lost, and it +drove me beside myself. I counted on you. I knew that no one else could +let my people go. But I'll not trouble you again. I wish you good-night, +sir, and good-bye. If I have been unjust, you must forget it." + +He turned sharply, but Stanton placed a detaining hand on his shoulder. +"Wait," he commanded querulously; "where are you going? Will you, +still--?" + +Arkwright bowed his head. "Yes," he answered. "I have but just time now +to catch our train--my train, I mean." + +He looked up at Stanton and taking his hand in both of his, drew the man +toward him. All the wildness and intolerance in his manner had passed, +and as he raised his eyes they were full of a firm resolve. + +"Come," he said simply; "there is yet time. Leave these people behind +you. What can you answer when they ask what have you done with your +talents?" + +"Good God, Arkwright," the senator exclaimed angrily, pulling his hand +away; "don't talk like a hymn-book, and don't make another scene. What +you ask is impossible. Tell me what I can do to help you in any other +way, and--" + +"Come," repeated the young man firmly. + +"The world may judge you by what you do to-night." + +Stanton looked at the boy for a brief moment with a strained and eager +scrutiny, and then turned away abruptly and shook his head in silence, +and Arkwright passed around the table and on out of the room. + +A month later, as the Southern senator was passing through the +reading-room of the Union Club, Livingstone beckoned to him, and handing +him an afternoon paper pointed at a paragraph in silence. + +The paragraph was dated Sagua la Grande, and read: + +"The body of Henry Arkwright, an American civil engineer, was brought +into Sagua to-day by a Spanish column. It was found lying in a road +three miles beyond the line of forts. Arkwright was surprised by a +guerilla force while attempting to make his way to the insurgent camp, +and on resisting was shot. The body has been handed over to the American +consul for interment. It is badly mutilated." + +Stanton lowered the paper and stood staring out of the window at the +falling snow and the cheery lights and bustling energy of the avenue. + +"Poor fellow," he said, "he wanted so much to help them. And he didn't +accomplish anything, did he?" + +Livingstone stared at the older man and laughed shortly. + +"Well, I don't know," he said. "He died. Some of us only live." + + + + +THE VAGRANT + +His Excellency Sir Charles Greville, K. C M. G., Governor of the +Windless Islands, stood upon the veranda of Government House surveying +the new day with critical and searching eyes. Sir Charles had been +so long absolute monarch of the Windless Isles that he had assumed +unconsciously a mental attitude of suzerainty over even the glittering +waters of the Caribbean Sea, and the coral reefs under the waters, +and the rainbow skies that floated above them. But on this particular +morning not even the critical eye of the Governor could distinguish a +single flaw in the tropical landscape before him. + +The lawn at his feet ran down to meet the dazzling waters of the bay, +the blue waters of the bay ran to meet a great stretch of absinthe +green, the green joined a fairy sky of pink and gold and saffron. +Islands of coral floated on the sea of absinthe, and derelict clouds of +mother-of-pearl swung low above them, starting from nowhere and going +nowhere, but drifting beautifully, like giant soap-bubbles of light and +color. Where the lawn touched the waters of the bay the cocoanut-palms +reached their crooked lengths far up into the sunshine, and as the +sea-breeze stirred their fronds they filled the hot air with whispers +and murmurs like the fluttering of many fans. Nature smiled boldly upon +the Governor, confident in her bountiful beauty, as though she said, +"Surely you cannot but be pleased with me to-day." And, as though in +answer, the critical and searching glance of Sir Charles relaxed. + +The crunching of the gravel and the rattle of the sentry's musket at +salute recalled him to his high office and to the duties of the morning. +He waved his hand, and, as though it were a wand, the sentry moved +again, making his way to the kitchen-garden, and so around Government +House and back to the lawn-tennis court, maintaining in his solitary +pilgrimage the dignity of her Majesty's representative, as well as her +Majesty's power over the Windless Isles. + +The Governor smiled slightly, with the ease of mind of one who finds +all things good. Supreme authority, surroundings of endless beauty, the +respectful, even humble, deference of his inferiors, and never even an +occasional visit from a superior, had in four years lowered him into a +bed of ease and self-satisfaction. He was cut off from the world, and +yet of it. Each month there came, via Jamaica, the three weeks' old copy +of The Weekly Times; he subscribed to Mudie's Colonial Library; and +from the States he had imported an American lawn-mower, the mechanism of +which no one as yet understood. Within his own borders he had created +a healthy, orderly seaport out of what had been a sink of fever and a +refuge for all the ne'er-do-wells and fugitive revolutionists of Central +America. + +He knew, as he sat each evening on his veranda, looking across the +bay, that in the world beyond the pink and gold sunset men were still +panting, struggling, and starving; crises were rising and passing; +strikes and panics, wars and the rumors of wars, swept from continent to +continent; a plague crept through India; a filibuster with five hundred +men at his back crossed an imaginary line and stirred the world from +Cape Town to London; Emperors were crowned; the good Queen celebrated +the longest reign; and a captain of artillery imprisoned in a swampy +island in the South Atlantic caused two hemispheres to clamor for +his rescue, and lit a race war that stretched from Algiers to the +boulevards. + +And yet, at the Windless Isles, all these happenings seemed to Sir +Charles like the morning's memory of a dream. For these things never +crossed the ring of the coral reefs; he saw them only as pictures in an +illustrated paper a month old. And he was pleased to find that this +was so. He was sufficient to himself, with his own responsibilities and +social duties and public works. + +He was a man in authority, who said to others, "Come!" and "Go!" Under +him were commissioners, and under the commissioners district inspectors +and boards of education and of highways. For the better health of the +colony he had planted trees that sucked the malaria from the air; +for its better morals he had substituted as a Sunday amusement +cricket-matches for cock-fights; and to keep it at peace he had created +a local constabulary of native negroes, and had dressed them in the +cast-off uniforms of London policemen. His handiwork was everywhere, +and his interest was all sunk in his handiwork. The days passed gorgeous +with sunshine, the nights breathed with beauty. It was an existence +of leisurely occupation, and one that promised no change, and he was +content. + +As it was Thursday, the Council met that morning, and some questions +of moment to the colony were to be brought up for consideration. +The question of the dog-tax was one which perplexed Sir Charles most +particularly. The two Councillors elected by the people and the three +appointed by the crown had disagreed as to this tax. Of the five hundred +British subjects at the seaport, all but ten were owners of dogs, and it +had occurred to Sassoon, the chemist, that a tax of half-a-crown a +year on each of these dogs would meet the expense of extending the +oyster-shell road to the new cricket-grounds. To this Snellgrove, who +held the contract for the narrow-gauge railroad, agreed; but the three +crown Councillors opposed the tax vigorously, on the ground that as +scavengers alone the dogs were a boon to the colony and should be +encouraged. The fact that each of these gentlemen owned not only one, +but several dogs of high pedigree made their position one of great +delicacy. + +There was no way by which the Governor could test the popular will +in the matter, except through his secretary, Mr. Clarges, who, at the +cricket-match between the local eleven and the officers and crew of +H. M. S. Partridge, had been informed by the other owners of several +fox-terriers that, in their opinion, the tax was a piece of "condemned +tommy-rot." From this the Governor judged that it would not prove a +popular measure. As he paced the veranda, drawing deliberately on his +cigar, and considering to which party he should give the weight of +his final support, his thoughts were disturbed by the approach of a +stranger, who advanced along the gravel walk, guarded on either side +by one of the local constabulary. The stranger was young and of poor +appearance. His bare feet were bound in a pair of the rope sandals worn +by the natives, his clothing was of torn and soiled drill, and he fanned +his face nonchalantly with a sombrero of battered and shapeless felt. + +Sir Charles halted in his walk, and holding his cigar behind his back, +addressed himself to the sergeant. + +"A vagrant?" he asked. + +The words seemed to bear some amusing significance to the stranger, for +his face lit instantly with a sweet and charming smile, and while he +turned to hear the sergeant's reply, he regarded him with a kindly and +affectionate interest. + +"Yes, your Excellency." + +The Governor turned to the prisoner. + +"Do you know the law of this colony regarding vagrants?" + +"I do not," the young man answered. His tone was politely curious, and +suggested that he would like to be further informed as to the local +peculiarities of a foreign country. + +"After two weeks' residence," the Governor recited, impressively, "all +able-bodied persons who will not work are put to work or deported. Have +you made any effort to find work?" + +Again the young man smiled charmingly. He shook his head and laughed. +"Oh dear no," he said. + +The laugh struck the Governor as impertinent. + +"Then you must leave by the next mail-steamer, if you have any money to +pay your passage, or, if you have no money, you must go to work on the +roads. Have you any money?" + +"If I had, I wouldn't--be a vagrant," the young man answered. His voice +was low and singularly sweet. It seemed to suit the indolence of his +attitude and the lazy, inconsequent smile. "I called on our consular +agent here," he continued, leisurely, "to write a letter home for money, +but he was disgracefully drunk, so I used his official note-paper to +write to the State Department about him, instead." + +The Governor's deepest interest was aroused. The American consular agent +was one of the severest trials he was forced to endure. + +"You are not a British subject, then? Ah, I see--and--er--your +representative was unable to assist you?" + +"He was drunk," the young man repeated, placidly. "He has been drunk +ever since I have been here, particularly in the mornings." + +He halted, as though the subject had lost interest for him, and gazed +pleasantly at the sunny bay and up at the moving palms. + +"Then," said the Governor, as though he had not been interrupted, "as +you have no means of support, you will help support the colony until you +can earn money to leave it. That will do, sergeant." + +The young man placed his hat upon his head and turned to move away, but +at the first step he swayed suddenly and caught at the negro's shoulder, +clasping his other hand across his eyes. The sergeant held him by the +waist, and looked up at the Governor with some embarrassment. + +"The young gentleman has not been well, Sir Charles," he said, +apologetically. + +The stranger straightened himself up and smiled vaguely. "I'm all +right," he murmured. "Sun's too hot." + +"Sit down," said the Governor. + +He observed the stranger more closely. He noticed now that beneath the +tan his face was delicate and finely cut, and that his yellow hair clung +closely to a well-formed head. + +"He seems faint. Has he had anything to eat?" asked the Governor. + +The sergeant grinned guiltily. "Yes, Sir Charles; we've been feeding him +at the barracks. It's fever, sir." + +Sir Charles was not unacquainted with fallen gentlemen, "beach-combers," +"remittance men," and vagrants who had known better days, and there had +been something winning in this vagrant's smile, and, moreover, he had +reported that thorn in his flesh, the consular agent, to the proper +authorities. + +He conceived an interest in a young man who, though with naked feet, did +not hesitate to correspond with his Minister of Foreign Affairs. + +"How long have you been ill?" he asked. + +The young man looked up from where he had sunk on the steps, and roused +himself with a shrug. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I've had a touch +of Chagres ever since I was on the Isthmus. I was at work there on the +railroad." + +"Did you come here from Colon?" + +"No; I worked up the Pacific side. I was clerking with Rossner Brothers +at Amapala for a while, because I speak a little German, and then I +footed it over to Puerto Cortez and got a job with the lottery people. +They gave me twenty dollars a month gold for rolling the tickets, and +I put it all in the drawing, and won as much as ten." He laughed, and +sitting erect, drew from his pocket a roll of thin green papers. "These +are for the next drawing," he said. "Have some?" he added. He held +them towards the negro sergeant, who, under the eye of the Governor, +resisted, and then spread the tickets on his knee like a hand at cards. +"I stand to win a lot with these," he said, with a cheerful sigh. "You +see, until the list's published I'm prospectively worth twenty +thousand dollars. And," he added, "I break stones in the sun." He rose +unsteadily, and saluted the Governor with a nod. "Good-morning, sir," he +said, "and thank you." + +"Wait," Sir Charles commanded. A new form of punishment had suggested +itself, in which justice was tempered with mercy. "Can you work one of +your American lawn-mowers?" he asked. + +The young man laughed delightedly. "I never tried," he said, "but I've +seen it done." + +"If you've been ill, it would be murder to put you on the shell +road." The Governor's dignity relaxed into a smile. "I don't desire +international complications," he said. "Sergeant, take this--him--to the +kitchen, and tell Corporal Mallon to give him that American lawn-mowing +machine. Possibly he may understand its mechanism. Mallon only cuts +holes in the turf with it." And he waved his hand in dismissal, and as +the three men moved away he buried himself again in the perplexities of +the dog-tax. + +Ten minutes later the deliberations of the Council were disturbed by a +loud and persistent rattle, like the whir of a Maxim gun, which proved, +on investigation, to arise from the American lawn-mower. The vagrant was +propelling it triumphantly across the lawn, and gazing down at it with +the same fond pride with which a nursemaid leans over the perambulator +to observe her lusty and gurgling charge. + + +The Councillors had departed, Sir Charles was thinking of breakfast, the +Maxim-like lawn-mower still irritated the silent hush of midday, when +from the waters of the inner harbor there came suddenly the sharp report +of a saluting gun and the rush of falling anchor-chains. There was +still a week to pass before the mail-steamer should arrive, and H. M. S. +Partridge had departed for Nassau. Besides these ships, no other vessel +had skirted the buoys of the bay in eight long smiling months. Mr. +Clarges, the secretary, with an effort to appear calm, and the orderly, +suffocated with the news, entered through separate doors at the same +instant. + +The secretary filed his report first. "A yacht's just anchored in the +bay, Sir Charles," he said. + +The orderly's face fell. He looked aggrieved. "An American yacht," he +corrected. + +"And much larger than the Partridge," continued the secretary. + +The orderly took a hasty glance back over his shoulder. "She has her +launch lowered already, sir," he said. + +Outside the whir of the lawn-mower continued undisturbed. Sir Charles +reached for his marine-glass, and the three men hurried to the veranda. + +"It looks like a man-of-war," said Sir Charles. "No," he added, +adjusting the binocular; "she's a yacht. She flies the New York Yacht +Club pennant--now she's showing the owner's absent pennant. He must have +left in the launch. He's coming ashore now." + +"He seems in a bit of a hurry," growled Mr. Clarges. + +"Those Americans always--" murmured Sir Charles from behind the +binocular. He did not quite know that he enjoyed this sudden onslaught +upon the privacy of his harbor and port. + +It was in itself annoying, and he was further annoyed to find that it +could in the least degree disturb his poise. + +The launch was growing instantly larger, like an express train +approaching a station at full speed; her flags flew out as flat as +pieces of painted tin; her bits of brass-work flashed like fire. Already +the ends of the wharves were white with groups of natives. + +"You might think he was going to ram the town," suggested the secretary. + +"Oh, I say," he exclaimed, in remonstrance, "he's making in for your +private wharf." + +The Governor was rearranging the focus of the glass with nervous +fingers. "I believe," he said, "no--yes--upon my word, there are--there +are ladies in that launch!" + +"Ladies, sir!" The secretary threw a hasty glance at the binocular, but +it was in immediate use. + +The clatter of the lawn-mower ceased suddenly, and the relief of its +silence caused the Governor to lower his eyes. He saw the lawn-mower +lying prostrate on the grass. The vagrant had vanished. + +There was a sharp tinkle of bells, and the launch slipped up to the +wharf and halted as softly as a bicycle. A man in a yachting-suit jumped +from her, and making some laughing speech to the two women in the stern, +walked briskly across the lawn, taking a letter from his pocket as he +came. Sir Charles awaited him gravely; the occupants of the launch had +seen him, and it was too late to retreat. + +"Sir Charles Greville, I believe," said the yachtsman. He bowed, and ran +lightly up the steps. "I am Mr. Robert Collier, from New York," he said. +"I have a letter to you from your ambassador at Washington. If you'll +pardon me, I'll present it in person. I had meant to leave it, but +seeing you--" He paused, and gave the letter in his hand to Sir Charles, +who waved him towards his library. + +Sir Charles scowled at the letter through his monocle, and then shook +hands with his visitor. "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Collier," he +said. "He says here you are preparing a book on our colonies in the West +Indies." He tapped the letter with his monocle. "I am sure I shall be +most happy to assist you with any information in my power." + +"Well, I am writing a book--yes," Mr. Collier observed, doubtfully, +"but it's a logbook. This trip I am on pleasure bent, and I also wish +to consult with you on a personal matter. However, that can wait." He +glanced out of the windows to where the launch lay in the sun. "My wife +came ashore with me, Sir Charles," he said, "so that in case there was +a Lady Greville, Mrs. Collier could call on her, and we could ask if you +would waive etiquette and do us the honor to dine with us to-night on +the yacht--that is, if you are not engaged." + +Sir Charles smiled. "There is no Lady Greville," he said, "and I +personally do not think I am engaged elsewhere." He paused in thought, +as though to make quite sure he was not. "No," he added, "I have no +other engagement. I will come with pleasure." + +Sir Charles rose and clapped his hands for the orderly. "Possibly the +ladies will come up to the veranda?" he asked. "I cannot allow them to +remain at the end of my wharf." He turned, and gave directions to the +orderly to bring limes and bottles of soda and ice, and led the way +across the lawn. + +Mrs. Collier and her friend had not explored the grounds of Government +House for over ten minutes before Sir Charles felt that many years ago +he had personally arranged their visit, that he had known them for even +a longer time, and that, now that they had finally arrived, they must +never depart. + +To them there was apparently nothing on his domain which did not thrill +with delightful interest. They were as eager as two children at a +pantomime, and as unconscious. As a rule, Sir Charles had found it +rather difficult to meet the women of his colony on a path which they +were capable of treading intelligently. In fairness to them, he +had always sought out some topic in which they could take an equal +part--something connected with the conduct of children, or the better +ventilation of the new school-house and chapel. But these new-comers did +not require him to select topics of conversation; they did not even wait +for him to finish those which he himself introduced. They flitted from +one end of the garden to the other with the eagerness of two midshipmen +on shore leave, and they found something to enjoy in what seemed to +the Governor the most commonplace of things. The Zouave uniform of the +sentry, the old Spanish cannon converted into peaceful gate-posts, the +aviary with its screaming paroquets, the botanical station, and even the +ice-machine were all objects of delight. + +On the other hand, the interior of the famous palace, which had been +sent out complete from London, and which was wont to fill the wives of +the colonials with awe or to reduce them to whispers, for some reason +failed of its effect. But they said they "loved" the large gold V. R.'s +on the back of the Councillors' chairs, and they exclaimed aloud over +the red leather despatch-boxes and the great seal of the colony, and the +mysterious envelopes marked "On her Majesty's service." + +"Isn't it too exciting, Florence?" demanded Mrs. Collier. "This is +the table where Sir Charles sits and writes letters' on her Majesty's +service,' and presses these buttons, and war-ships spring up in perfect +shoals. Oh, Robert," she sighed, "I do wish you had been a Governor!" + +The young lady called Florence stood looking down into the great +arm-chair in front of the Governor's table. + +"May I?" she asked. She slid fearlessly in between the oak arms of the +chair and smiled about her. Afterwards Sir Charles remembered her as she +appeared at that moment with the red leather of the chair behind her, +with her gloved hands resting on the carved oak, and her head on one +side, smiling up at him. She gazed with large eyes at the blue linen +envelopes, the stiff documents in red tape, the tray of black sand, and +the goose-quill pens. + +"I am now the Countess Zika," she announced; "no, I am Diana of the +Crossways, and I mean to discover a state secret and sell it to the +Daily Telegraph. Sir Charles," she demanded, "if I press this electric +button is war declared anywhere, or what happens?" + +"That second button," said Sir Charles, after deliberate scrutiny, "is +the one which communicates with the pantry." + +The Governor would not consider their returning to the yacht for +luncheon. + +"You might decide to steam away as suddenly as you came," he said, +gallantly, "and I cannot take that chance. This is Bachelor's Hall, so +you must pardon my people if things do not go very smoothly." He himself +led them to the great guest-chamber, where there had not been a guest +for many years, and he noticed, as though for the first time, that +the halls through which they passed were bare, and that the floor was +littered with unpacked boxes and gun-cases. He also observed for the +first time that maps of the colony, with the coffee-plantations and +mahogany belt marked in different inks, were not perhaps so decorative +as pictures and mirrors and family portraits. And he could have wished +that the native servants had not stared so admiringly at the guests, +nor directed each other in such aggressive whispers. On those other +occasions, when the wives of the Councillors came to the semi-annual +dinners, the native servants had seemed adequate to all that was +required of them. He recollected with a flush that in the town these +semi-annual dinners were described as banquets. He wondered if to these +visitors from the outside world it was all equally provincial. + +But their enjoyment was apparently unfeigned and generous. It was +evident that they had known each other for many years, yet they received +every remark that any of them made as though it had been pronounced by a +new and interesting acquaintance. Sir Charles found it rather difficult +to keep up with the talk across the table, they changed the subject +so rapidly, and they half spoke of so many things without waiting to +explain. He could not at once grasp the fact that people who had no +other position in the world save that of observers were speaking so +authoritatively of public men and public measures. He found, to his +delight, that for the first time in several years he was not presiding +at his own table, and that his guests seemed to feel no awe of him. + +"What's the use of a yacht nowadays?" Collier was saying--"what's the +use of a yacht, when you can go to sleep in a wagon-lit at the Gare du +Nord, and wake up at Vladivostok? And look at the time it saves; eleven +days to Gib, six to Port Said, and fifteen to Colombo--there you are, +only half-way around, and you're already sixteen days behind the man in +the wagon-lit." + +"But nobody wants to go to Vladivostok," said Miss Cameron, "or anywhere +else in a wagon-lit. But with a yacht you can explore out-of-the-way +places, and you meet new and interesting people. We wouldn't have met +Sir Charles if we had waited for a wagon-lit." She bowed her head to +the Governor, and he smiled with gratitude. He had lost Mr. Collier +somewhere in the Indian Ocean, and he was glad she had brought them back +to the Windless Isles once more. + +"And again I repeat that the answer to that is, 'Why not? said the March +Hare,'" remarked Mr. Collier, determinedly. + +The answer, as an answer, did not strike Sir Charles as a very good one. +But the ladies seemed to comprehend, for Miss Cameron said: "Did I tell +you about meeting him at Oxford just a few months before his death--at +a children's tea-party? He was so sweet and understanding with them! +Two women tried to lionize him, and he ran away and played with the +children. I was more glad to meet him than any one I can think of. Not +as a personage, you know, but because I felt grateful to him." + +"Yes, that way, distinctly," said Mrs. Collier. "I should have felt that +way towards Mrs. Ewing more than any one else." + +"I know, 'Jackanapes,'" remarked Collier, shortly; "a brutal assault +upon the feelings, I say." + +"Some one else said it before you, Robert," Mrs. Collier commented, +calmly. "Perhaps Sir Charles met him at Apia." They all turned and +looked at him. He wished he could say he had met him at Apia. He did +not quite see how they had made their way from a children's tea party +at Oxford to the South Pacific islands, but he was anxious to join in +somewhere with a clever observation. But they never seemed to settle in +one place sufficiently long for him to recollect what he knew of it. He +hoped they would get around to the west coast of Africa in time. He had +been Governor of Sierra Leone for five years. + +His success that night at dinner on the yacht was far better. The others +seemed a little tired after the hours of sight-seeing to which he had +treated them, and they were content to listen. In the absence of Mr. +Clarges, who knew them word by word, he felt free to tell his three +stories of life at Sierra Leone. He took his time in the telling, and +could congratulate himself that his efforts had never been more keenly +appreciated. He felt that he was holding his own. + +The night was still and warm, and while the men lingered below at the +table, the two women mounted to the deck and watched the lights of +the town as they vanished one by one and left the moon in unchallenged +possession of the harbor. For a long time Miss Cameron stood silent, +looking out across the bay at the shore and the hills beyond. A fish +splashed near them, and the sound of oars rose from the mist that +floated above the water, until they were muffled in the distance. The +palms along the shore glistened like silver, and overhead the Southern +Cross shone white against a sky of purple. The silence deepened and +continued for so long a time that Mrs. Collier felt its significance, +and waited for the girl to end it. + +Miss Cameron raised her eyes to the stars and frowned. "I am not +surprised that he is content to stay here," she said. "Are you? It is so +beautiful, so wonderfully beautiful." + +For a moment Mrs. Collier made no answer. "Two years is a long time, +Florence," she said; "and he is all I have; he is not only my only +brother, he is the only living soul who is related to me. That makes +it harder." + +The girl seemed to find some implied reproach in the speech, for she +turned and looked at her friend closely. "Do you feel it is my fault, +Alice?" she asked. + +The older woman shook her head. "How could it be your fault?" she +answered. "If you couldn't love him enough to marry him, you couldn't, +that's all. But that is no reason why he should have hidden himself from +all of us. Even if he could not stand being near you, caring as he did, +he need not have treated me so. We have done all we can do, and Robert +has been more than fine about it. He and his agents have written to +every consul and business house in Central America, and I don't believe +there is a city that he hasn't visited. He has sent him money and +letters to every bank and to every post-office--" + +The girl raised her head quickly. + +"--but he never calls for either," Mrs. Collier continued, "for I know +that if he had read my letters he would have come home." + +The girl lifted her head as though she were about to speak, and then +turned and walked slowly away. After a few moments she returned, and +stood, with her hands resting on the rail, looking down into the water. +"I wrote him two letters," she said. In the silence of the night her +voice was unusually clear and distinct. "I--you make me wonder--if they +ever reached him." + +Mrs. Collier, with her eyes fixed upon the girl, rose slowly from her +chair and came towards her. She reached out her hand and touched Miss +Cameron on the arm. + +"Florence," she said, in a whisper, "have you--" + +The girl raised her head slowly, and lowered it again. "Yes," she +answered; "I told him to come back--to come back to me. Alice," she +cried, "I--I begged him to come back!" She tossed her hands apart and +again walked rapidly away, leaving the older woman standing motionless. + +A moment later, when Sir Charles and Mr. Collier stepped out upon the +deck, they discovered the two women standing close together, two white, +ghostly figures in the moonlight, and as they advanced towards them they +saw Mrs. Collier take the girl for an instant in her arms. + +Sir Charles was asking Miss Cameron how long she thought an immigrant +should be made to work for his freehold allotment, when Mr. Collier and +his wife rose at the same moment and departed on separate errands. They +met most mysteriously in the shadow of the wheel-house. + +"What is it? Is anything wrong with Florence?" Collier asked, anxiously. +"Not homesick, is she?" + +Mrs. Collier put her hands on her husband's shoulders and shook her +head. + +"Wrong? No, thank Heaven! it's as right as right can be!" she cried. +"She's written to him to come back, but he's never answered, and so--and +now it's all right." + +Mr. Collier gazed blankly at his wife's upturned face. "Well, I don't +see that," he remonstrated. "What's the use of her being in love with +him now when he can't be found? What? Why didn't she love him two years +ago when he was where you could get at him--at her house, for instance. +He was there most of his time. She would have saved a lot of trouble. +However," he added, energetically, "this makes it absolutely necessary +to find that young man and bring him to his senses. We'll search this +place for the next few days, and then we'll try the mainland again. I +think I'll offer a reward for him, and have it printed in Spanish, and +paste it up in all the plazas. We might add a line in English, 'She has +changed her mind.' That would bring him home, wouldn't it?" + +"Don't be unfeeling, Robert," said Mrs. Collier. + +Her husband raised his eyes appealingly, and addressed himself to the +moon. "I ask you now," he complained, "is that fair to a man who +has spent six months on muleback trying to round up a prodigal +brother-in-law?" + +That same evening, after the ladies had gone below, Mr. Collier asked +Sir Charles to assist him in his search for his wife's brother, and +Sir Charles heartily promised his most active co-operation. There were +several Americans at work in the interior, he said, as overseers on +the coffee-plantations. It was possible that the runaway might be among +them. It was only that morning, Sir Charles remembered, that an American +had been at work "repairing his lawn-mower," as he considerately +expressed it. He would send for him on the morrow. + +But on the morrow the slave of the lawn-mower was reported on the list +of prisoners as "missing," and Corporal Mallon was grieved, but refused +to consider himself responsible. Sir Charles himself had allowed the +vagrant unusual freedom, and the vagrant had taken advantage of it, and +probably escaped to the hills, or up the river to the logwood camp. + +"Telegraph a description of him to Inspector Garrett," Sir Charles +directed, "and to the heads of all up stations. And when he returns, +bring him to me." + +So great was his zeal that Sir Charles further offered to join Mr. +Collier in his search among the outlying plantations; but Mr. Collier +preferred to work alone. He accordingly set out at once, armed with +letters to the different district inspectors, and in his absence +delegated to Sir Charles the pleasant duty of caring for the wants of +Miss Cameron and his wife. Sir Charles regarded the latter as deserving +of all sympathy, for Mr. Collier, in his efforts to conceal the fact +from the Governor that Florence Cameron was responsible, or in any +way concerned, in the disappearance of the missing man, had been too +mysterious. Sir Charles was convinced that the fugitive had swindled his +brother-in-law and stolen his sister's jewels. + +The days which followed were to the Governor days and nights of strange +discoveries. He recognized that the missionaries from the great outside +world had invaded his shores and disturbed his gods and temples. Their +religion of progress and activity filled him with doubt and unrest. + +"In this century," Mr. Collier had declared, "nothing can stand still. +It's the same with a corporation, or a country, or a man. We must either +march ahead or fall out. We can't mark time. What?" + +"Exactly--certainly not," Sir Charles had answered. But in his heart +he knew that he himself had been marking time under these soft tropical +skies while the world was pushing forward. The thought had not disturbed +him before. Now he felt guilty. He conceived a sudden intolerance, if +not contempt, for the little village of whitewashed houses, for the +rafts of mahogany and of logwood that bumped against the pier-heads, for +the sacks of coffee piled high like barricades under the corrugated zinc +sheds along the wharf. Each season it had been his pride to note the +increase in these exports. The development of the resources of his +colony had been a work in which he had felt that the Colonial Secretary +took an immediate interest. He had believed that he was one of the +important wheels of the machinery which moved the British Empire: and +now, in a day, he was undeceived. It was forced upon him that to the +eyes of the outside world he was only a greengrocer operating on a large +scale; he provided the British public with coffee for its breakfast, +with drugs for its stomach, and with strange woods for its +dining-room furniture and walking-sticks. He combated this ignominious +characterization of his position indignantly. The new arrivals certainly +gave him no hint that they considered him so lightly. This thought +greatly comforted him, for he felt that in some way he was summoning +to his aid all of his assets and resources to meet an expert and final +valuation. As he ranged them before him he was disturbed and happy to +find that the value he placed upon them was the value they would have +in the eyes of a young girl--not a girl of the shy, mother-obeying, +man-worshipping English type, but a girl such as Miss Cameron seemed to +be, a girl who could understand what you were trying to say before you +said it, who could take an interest in rates of exchange and preside +at a dinner table, who was charmingly feminine and clever, and who was +respectful of herself and of others. In fact, he decided, with a flush, +that Miss Cameron herself was the young girl he had in his mind. + +"Why not?" he asked. + +The question came to him in his room, the sixth night of their visit, +and he strode over to the long pier-glass and stood studying himself +critically for the first time in years. He was still a fine-looking, +well-kept man. His hair was thin, but that fact did not show; and his +waist was lost, but riding and tennis would set that right. He had means +outside of his official salary, and there was the title, such as it was. +Lady Greville the wife of the birthday knight sounded as well as Lady +Greville the marchioness. And Americans cared for these things. He +doubted whether this particular American would do so, but he was adding +up all he had to offer, and that was one of the assets. He was sure +she would not be content to remain mistress of the Windless Isles. Nor, +indeed, did he longer care to be master there, now that he had inhaled +this quick, stirring breath from the outer world. He would resign, and +return and mix with the world again. He would enter Parliament; a man +so well acquainted as himself with the Gold Coast of Africa and with +the trade of the West Indies must always be of value in the Lower House. +This value would be recognized, no doubt, and he would become at +first an Under-Secretary for the Colonies, and then, in time, Colonial +Secretary and a cabinet minister. She would like that, he thought. And +after that place had been reached, all things were possible. For years +he had not dreamed such dreams--not since he had been a clerk in the +Foreign Office. They seemed just as possible now as they had seemed real +then, and just as near. He felt it was all absolutely in his own hands. + +He descended to the dining-room with the air of a man who already felt +the cares of high responsibility upon his shoulders. His head was erect +and his chest thrown forward. He was ten years younger; his manner was +alert, assured, and gracious. As he passed through the halls he was +impatient of the familiar settings of Government House; they seemed +to him like the furnishings of a hotel where he had paid his bill, and +where his luggage was lying strapped for departure in the hallway. + +In his library he saw on his table a number of papers lying open waiting +for his signature, the dog-tax among the others. He smiled to remember +how important it had seemed to him in the past--in that past of +indolence and easy content. Now he was on fire to put this rekindled +ambition to work, to tell the woman who had lighted it that it was all +from her and for her, that without her he had existed, that now he had +begun to live. + +They had never found him so delighful{sic} as he appeared that night. +He was like a man on the eve of a holiday. He made a jest of his past +efforts; he made them see, as he now saw it for the first time, that +side of the life of the Windless Isles which was narrow and petty, +even ridiculous. He talked of big men in a big way; he criticised, and +expounded, and advanced his own theories of government and the proper +control of an empire. + +Collier, who had returned from his unsuccessful search of the +plantations, shook his head. + +"It's a pity you are not in London now," he said, sincerely. "They need +some one there who has been on the spot. They can't direct the colonies +from what they know of them in Whitehall." + +Sir Charles fingered the dinner cloth nervously, and when he spoke, +fixed his eyes anxiously upon Miss Cameron. + +"Do you know," he said, "I have been thinking of doing that very thing, +of resigning my post here and going back, entering Parliament, and all +the rest of it." + +His declaration met with a unanimous chorus of delight. Miss Cameron +nodded her head with eager approval. + +"Yes, if I were a man, that is where I should wish to be," she said, "at +the heart of it. Why, whatever you say in the House of Commons is heard +all over the world the next morning." + +Sir Charles felt the blood tingle in his pulses. He had not been so +stirred in years. Her words ran to his head like wine. + +Mr. Collier raised his glass. + +"Here's to our next meeting," he said, "on the terrace of the House of +Commons." + +But Miss Cameron interrupted. "No; to the Colonial Secretary," she +amended. + +"Oh yes," they assented, rising, and so drank his health, smiling down +upon him with kind, friendly glances and good-will. + +"To the Colonial Secretary," they said. Sir Charles clasped the arms +of his chair tightly with his hands; his eyes were half closed, and his +lips pressed into a grim, confident smile. He felt that a single word +from her would make all that they suggested possible. If she cared for +such things, they were hers; he had them to give; they were ready lying +at her feet. He knew that the power had always been with him, lying +dormant in his heart and brain. It had only waited for the touch of the +Princess to wake it into life. + +The American visitors were to sail for the mainland the next day, but he +had come to know them so well in the brief period of their visit that he +felt he dared speak to her that same night. At least he could give +her some word that would keep him in her mind until they met again in +London, or until she had considered her answer. He could not expect her +to answer at once. She could take much time. What else had he to do now +but to wait for her answer? It was now all that made life. + +Collier and his wife had left the veranda and had crossed the lawn +towards the water's edge. The moonlight fell full upon them with all the +splendor of the tropics, and lit the night with a brilliant, dazzling +radiance. From where Miss Cameron sat on the veranda in the shadow, Sir +Charles could see only the white outline of her figure and the indolent +movement of her fan. Collier had left his wife and was returning slowly +towards the step. Sir Charles felt that if he meant to speak he must +speak now, and quickly. He rose and placed himself beside her in the +shadow, and the girl turned her head inquiringly and looked up at him. + +But on the instant the hush of the night was broken by a sharp +challenge, and the sound of men's voices raised in anger; there was the +noise of a struggle on the gravel, and from the corner of the house the +two sentries came running, dragging between them a slight figure that +fought and wrestled to be free. + +Sir Charles exclaimed with indignant impatience, and turning, strode +quickly to the head of the steps. + +"What does this mean?" he demanded. "What are you doing with that man? +Why did you bring him here?" + +As the soldiers straightened to attention, their prisoner ceased to +struggle, and stood with his head bent on his chest. His sombrero was +pulled down low across his forehead. + +"He was crawling through the bushes, Sir Charles," the soldier panted, +"watching that gentleman, sir,"--he nodded over his shoulder towards +Collier. "I challenged, and he jumped to run, and we collared him. He +resisted, Sir Charles." + +The mind of the Governor was concerned with other matters than +trespassers. + +"Well, take him to the barracks, then," he said. "Report to me in the +morning. That will do." + +The prisoner wheeled eagerly, without further show of resistance, and +the soldiers closed in on him on either side. But as the three men moved +away together, their faces, which had been in shadow, were now turned +towards Mr. Collier, who was advancing leisurely, and with silent +footsteps, across the grass. He met them face to face, and as he did so +the prisoner sprang back and threw out his arms in front of him, with +the gesture of a man who entreats silence. Mr. Collier halted as though +struck to stone, and the two men confronted each other without moving. + +"Good God!" Mr. Collier whispered. + +He turned stiffly and slowly, as though in a trance, and beckoned to his +wife, who had followed him. + +"Alice!" he called. He stepped backwards towards her, and taking her +hand in one of his, drew her towards the prisoner. "Here he is!" he +said. + +They heard her cry "Henry!" with the fierceness of a call for help, +and saw her rush forward and stumble into the arms of the prisoner, and +their two heads were bent close together. + +Collier ran up the steps and explained breathlessly. + +"And now," he gasped, in conclusion, "what's to be done? What's he +arrested for? Is it bailable? What?" + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Sir Charles, miserably. "It is my fault +entirely. I assure you I had no idea. How could I? But I should have +known, I should have guessed it." He dismissed the sentries with a +gesture. "That will do," he said. "Return to your posts." + +Mr. Collier laughed with relief. + +"Then it is not serious?" he asked. + +"He--he had no money, that was all," exclaimed Sir Charles. "Serious? +Certainly not. Upon my word, I'm sorry--" + +The young man had released himself from his sister's embrace, and was +coming towards them; and Sir Charles, eager to redeem himself, advanced +hurriedly to greet him. But the young man did not see him; he was +looking past him up the steps to where Miss Cameron stood in the shadow. + +Sir Charles hesitated and drew back. The young man stopped at the foot +of the steps, and stood with his head raised, staring up at the white +figure of the girl, who came slowly forward. + +It was forced upon Sir Charles that in spite of the fact that the young +man before them had but just then been rescued from arrest, that in +spite of his mean garments and ragged sandals, something about him--the +glamour that surrounds the prodigal, or possibly the moonlight--gave him +an air of great dignity and distinction. + +As Miss Cameron descended the stairs, Sir Charles recognized for the +first time that the young man was remarkably handsome, and he resented +it. It hurt him, as did also the prodigal's youth and his assured +bearing. He felt a sudden sinking fear, a weakening of all his vital +forces, and he drew in his breath slowly and deeply. But no one noticed +him; they were looking at the tall figure of the prodigal, standing with +his hat at his hip and his head thrown back, holding the girl with his +eyes. + +Collier touched Sir Charles on the arm, and nodded his head towards the +library. "Come," he whispered, "let us old people leave them together. +They've a good deal to say." Sir Charles obeyed in silence, and crossing +the library to the great oak chair, seated himself and leaned wearily +on the table before him. He picked up one of the goose quills and began +separating it into little pieces. Mr. Collier was pacing up and down, +biting excitedly on the end of his cigar. "Well, this has certainly been +a great night," he said. "And it is all due to you, Sir Charles--all due +to you. Yes, they have you to thank for it." + +"They?" said Sir Charles. He knew that it had to come. He wanted the man +to strike quickly. + +"They? Yes--Florence Cameron and Henry," Mr. Collier answered. "Henry +went away because she wouldn't marry him. She didn't care for him then, +but afterwards she cared. Now they're reunited,--and so they're happy; +and my wife is more than happy, and I won't have to bother any more; and +it's all right, and all through you." + +"I am glad," said Sir Charles. There was a long pause, which the men, +each deep in his own thoughts, did not notice. + +"You will be leaving now, I suppose?" Sir Charles asked. He was looking +down, examining the broken pen in his hand. + +Mr. Collier stopped in his walk and considered. "Yes, I suppose they +will want to get back," he said. "I shall be sorry myself. And you? What +will you do?" + +Sir Charles started slightly. He had not yet thought what he would do. +His eyes wandered over the neglected work, which had accumulated on the +desk before him. Only an hour before he had thought of it as petty and +little, as something unworthy of his energy. Since that time what change +had taken place in him? + +For him everything had changed, he answered, but in him there had been +no change; and if this thing which the girl had brought into his life +had meant the best in life, it must always mean that. She had been an +inspiration; she must remain his spring of action. Was he a slave, he +asked himself, that he should rebel? Was he a boy, that he could turn +his love to aught but the best account? He must remember her not as the +woman who had crushed his spirit, but as she who had helped him, who had +lifted him up to something better and finer. He would make sacrifice in +her name; it would be in her name that he would rise to high places and +accomplish much good. + +She would not know this, but he would know. + +He rose and brushed the papers away from him with an impatient sweep of +the hand. + +"I shall follow out the plan of which I spoke at dinner," he answered. +"I shall resign here, and return home and enter Parliament." + +Mr. Collier laughed admiringly. "I love the way you English take your +share of public life," he said, "the way you spend yourselves for your +country, and give your brains, your lives, everything you have--all for +the empire." + +Through the open window Sir Charles saw Miss Cameron half hidden by the +vines of the veranda. The moonlight falling about her transformed her +into a figure which was ideal, mysterious, and elusive, like a woman in +a dream. He shook his head wearily. + +"For the empire?" he asked. + + + + +THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER + +A SKETCH CONTAINING THREE POINTS OF VIEW + +What the Poet Laureate wrote. + + "There are girls in the Gold Reef City + There are mothers and children too! + And they cry 'Hurry up for pity!' + So what can a brave man do? + + "I suppose we were wrong, were mad men, + Still I think at the Judgment Day, + When God sifts the good from the bad men, + There'll be something more to say." + +What more the Lord Chief Justice found to say. + +"In this case we know the immediate consequence of your crime. It has +been the loss of human life, it has been the disturbance of public +peace, it has been the creation of a certain sense of distrust of public +professions and of public faith.... The sentence of this Court therefore +is that, as to you, Leander Starr Jameson, you be confined for a period +of fifteen months without hard labor; that you, Sir John Willoughby, +have ten months' imprisonment; and that you, etc., etc." + +London Times, July 29th. + + +What the Hon. "Reggie" Blake thought about it. + +"H. M. HOLLOWAY PRISON, + +"July 28th. + +"I am going to keep a diary while I am in prison, that is, if they will +let me. I never kept one before because I hadn't the time; when I was +home on leave there was too much going on to bother about it, and when +I was up country I always came back after a day's riding so tired that I +was too sleepy to write anything. And now that I have the time, I won't +have anything to write about. I fancy that more things happened to me +today than are likely to happen again for the next eight months, so I +will make this day take up as much room in the diary as it can. I am +writing this on the back of the paper the Warder uses for his official +reports, while he is hunting up cells to put us in. We came down on him +rather unexpectedly and he is nervous. + +"Of course, I had prepared myself for this after a fashion, but now I +see that somehow I never really did think I would be in here, and all +my friends outside, and everything going on just the same as though I +wasn't alive somewhere. It's like telling yourself that your horse can't +possibly pull off a race, so that you won't mind so much if he doesn't, +but you always feel just as bad when he comes in a loser. A man can't +fool himself into thinking one way when he is hoping the other. + +"But I am glad it is over, and settled. It was a great bore not knowing +your luck and having the thing hanging over your head every morning +when you woke up. Indeed it was quite a relief when the counsel got all +through arguing over those proclamations, and the Chief Justice summed +up, but I nearly went to sleep when I found he was going all over it +again to the jury. I didn't understand about those proclamations myself +and I'll lay a fiver the jury didn't either. The Colonel said he didn't. +I couldn't keep my mind on what Russell was explaining about, and I +got to thinking how much old Justice Hawkins looked like the counsel in +'Alice in Wonderland' when they tried the knave of spades for stealing +the tarts. He had just the same sort of a beak and the same sort of a +wig, and I wondered why he had his wig powdered and the others didn't. +Pollock's wig had a hole in the top; you could see it when he bent over +to take notes. He was always taking notes. I don't believe he understood +about those proclamations either; he never seemed to listen, anyway. + +"The Chief Justice certainly didn't love us very much, that's sure; and +he wasn't going to let anybody else love us either. I felt quite the +Christian Martyr when Sir Edward was speaking in defence. He made it +sound as though we were all a lot of Adelphi heroes and ought to be +promoted and have medals, but when Lord Russell started in to read the +Riot Act at us I began to believe that hanging was too good for me. I'm +sure I never knew I was disturbing the peace of nations; it seems like +such a large order for a subaltern. + +"But the worst was when they made us stand up before all those people to +be sentenced. I must say I felt shaky about the knees then, not because +I was afraid of what was coming, but because it was the first time I +had ever been pointed out before people, and made to feel ashamed. And +having those girls there, too, looking at one. That wasn't just fair to +us. It made me feel about ten years old, and I remembered how the Head +Master used to call me to his desk and say, 'Blake Senior, two pages of +Horace and keep in bounds for a week.' And then I heard our names and +the months, and my name and 'eight months' imprisonment,' and there was +a bustle and murmur and the tipstaves cried, 'Order in the Court,' and +the Judges stood up and shook out their big red skirts as though they +were shaking off the contamination of our presence and rustled away, +and I sat down, wondering how long eight months was, and wishing they'd +given me as much as they gave Jameson. + +"They put us in a room together then, and our counsel said how sorry +they were, and shook hands, and went off to dinner and left us. I +thought they might have waited with us and been a little late for dinner +just that once; but no one waited except a lot of costers outside whom +we did not know. It was eight o'clock and still quite light when we came +out, and there was a line of four-wheelers and a hansom ready for us. +I'd been hoping they would take us out by the Strand entrance, just +because I'd like to have seen it again, but they marched us instead +through the main quadrangle--a beastly, gloomy courtyard that echoed, +and out, into Carey Street--such a dirty, gloomy street. The costers and +clerks set up a sort of a cheer when we came out, and one of them cried, +'God bless you, sir,' to the doctor, but I was sorry they cheered. It +seemed like kicking against the umpire's decision. The Colonel and I got +into a hansom together and we trotted off into Chancery Lane and turned +into Holborn. Most of the shops were closed, and the streets looked +empty, but there was a lighted clock-face over Mooney's public-house, +and the hands stood at a quarter past eight. I didn't know where +Holloway was, and was hoping they would have to take us through some +decent streets to reach it; but we didn't see a part of the city that +meant anything to me, or that I would choose to travel through again. + +"Neither of us talked, and I imagined that the people in the streets +knew we were going to prison, and I kept my eyes on the enamel card on +the back of the apron. I suppose I read, 'Two-wheeled hackney carriage: +if hired and discharged within the four-mile limit, 1s.' at least a +hundred times. I got more sensible after a bit, and when we had turned +into Gray's Inn Road I looked up and saw a tram in front of us with +'Holloway Road and King's X,' painted on the steps, and the Colonel saw +it about the same time I fancy, for we each looked at the other, and the +Colonel raised his eyebrows. It showed us that at least the cabman knew +where we were going. + +"'They might have taken us for a turn through the West End first, I +think,' the Colonel said. 'I'd like to have had a look around, wouldn't +you? This isn't a cheerful neighborhood, is it?' + +"There were a lot of children playing in St. Andrew's Gardens, and a +crowd of them ran out just as we passed, shrieking and laughing over +nothing, the way kiddies do, and that was about the only pleasant sight +in the ride. I had quite a turn when we came to the New Hospital just +beyond, for I thought it was Holloway, and it came over me what eight +months in such a place meant. I believe if I hadn't pulled myself up +sharp, I'd have jumped out into the street and run away. It didn't last +more than a few seconds, but I don't want any more like them. I was +afraid, afraid--there's no use pretending it was anything else. I was in +a dumb, silly funk, and I turned sick inside and shook, as I have seen +a horse shake when he shies at nothing and sweats and trembles down his +sides. + +"During those few seconds it seemed to be more than I could stand; I +felt sure that I couldn't do it--that I'd go mad if they tried to force +me. The idea was so terrible--of not being master over your own legs and +arms, to have your flesh and blood and what brains God gave you buried +alive in stone walls as though they were in a safe with a time-lock on +the door set for eight months ahead. There's nothing to be afraid of in +a stone wall really, but it's the idea of the thing--of not being free +to move about, especially to a chap that has always lived in the open as +I have, and has had men under him. It was no wonder I was in a funk for +a minute. I'll bet a fiver the others were, too, if they'll only own up +to it. I don't mean for long, but just when the idea first laid hold of +them. Anyway, it was a good lesson to me, and if I catch myself thinking +of it again I'll whistle, or talk to myself out loud and think of +something cheerful. And I don't mean to be one of those chaps who spends +his time in jail counting the stones in his cell, or training spiders, +or measuring how many of his steps make a mile, for madness lies that +way. I mean to sit tight and think of all the good times I've had, and +go over them in my mind very slowly, so as to make them last longer and +remember who was there and what we said, and the jokes and all that; +I'll go over house-parties I have been on, and the times I've had in the +Riviera, and scouting parties Dr. Jim led up country when we were taking +Matabele Land. + +"They say that if you're good here they give you things to read after a +month or two, and then I can read up all those instructive books that a +fellow never does read until he's laid up in bed. + +"But that's crowding ahead a bit; I must keep to what happened to-day. +We struck York Road at the back of the Great Western Terminus, and I +half hoped we might see some chap we knew coming or going away: I would +like to have waved my hand to him. It would have been fun to have seen +his surprise the next morning when he read in the paper that he had +been bowing to jail-birds, and then I would like to have cheated the +tipstaves out of just one more friendly good-by. I wanted to say good-by +to somebody, but I really couldn't feel sorry to see the last of any +one of those we passed in the streets--they were such a dirty, +unhappy-looking lot, and the railroad wall ran on forever apparently, +and we might have been in a foreign country for all we knew of it. There +were just sooty gray brick tenements and gas-works on one side, and +the railroad cutting on the other, and semaphores and telegraph wires +overhead, and smoke and grime everywhere, it looked exactly like the +sort of street that should lead to a prison, and it seemed a pity to +take a smart hansom and a good cob into it. + +"It was just a bit different from our last ride together--when we rode +through the night from Krugers-Dorp with hundreds of horses' hoofs +pounding on the soft veldt behind us, and the carbines clanking against +the stirrups as they swung on the sling belts. We were being hunted +then, harassed on either side, scurrying for our lives like the Derby +Dog in a race-track when every one hoots him and no man steps out to +help--we were sick for sleep, sick for food, lashed by the rain, and we +knew that we were beaten; but we were free still, and under open skies +with the derricks of the Rand rising like gallows on our left, and +Johannesburg only fifteen miles away." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lion and the Unicorn and Other +Stories, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LION AND UNICORN *** + +***** This file should be named 1620.txt or 1620.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/1620/ + +Produced by Charles Keller + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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LEE, R.A. +British Military Attache with the United States Army + + + + +Contents + +THE LION AND THE UNICORN + +ON THE FEVER SHIP + +THE MAN WITH ONE TALENT + +THE VAGRANT + +THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER + + + + +THE LION AND THE UNICORN + +Prentiss had a long lease on the house, and because it stood in +Jermyn Street the upper floors were, as a matter of course, +turned into lodgings for single gentlemen; and because Prentiss +was a Florist to the Queen, he placed a lion and unicorn over his +flowershop, just in front of the middle window on the first +floor. By stretching a little, each of them could see into the +window just beyond him, and could hear all that was said inside; +and such things as they saw and heard during the reign of Captain +Carrington, who moved in at the same time they did! By day the +table in the centre of the room was covered with maps, and the +Captain sat with a box of pins, with different-colored flags +wrapped around them, and amused himself by sticking them in the +maps and measuring the spaces in between, swearing meanwhile to +himself. It was a selfish amusement, but it appeared to be the +Captain's only intellectual pursuit, for at night, the maps were +rolled up, and a green cloth was spread across the table, and +there was much company and popping of soda-bottles, and little +heaps of gold and silver were moved this way and that across the +cloth. The smoke drifted out of the open windows, and the +laughter of the Captain's guests rang out loudly in the empty +street, so that the policeman halted and raised his eyes +reprovingly to the lighted windows, and cabmen drew up beneath +them and lay in wait, dozing on their folded arms, for the +Captain's guests to depart. The Lion and the Unicorn were rather +ashamed of the scandal of it, and they were glad when, one day, +the Captain went away with his tin boxes and gun-cases piled high +on a four-wheeler. + +Prentiss stood on the sidewalk and said: "I wish you good luck, +sir." And the Captain said: "I'm coming back a Major, +Prentiss." But he never came back. And one day--the Lion +remembered the day very well, for on that same day the +newsboys ran up and down Jermyn Street shouting out the news of +"a 'orrible disaster" to the British arms. It was then that a +young lady came to the door in a hansom, and Prentiss went out to +meet her and led her upstairs. They heard him unlock the +Captain's door and say, "This is his room, miss," and after he +had gone they watched her standing quite still by the centre +table. She stood there for a very long time looking slowly about +her, and then she took a photograph of the Captain from the frame +on the mantel and slipped it into her pocket, and when she went +out again her veil was down, and she was crying. She must have +given Prentiss as much as a sovereign, for he called her "Your +ladyship," which he never did under a sovereign. + +And she drove off, and they never saw her again either, nor could +they hear the address she gave the cabman. But it was somewhere +up St. John's Wood way. + +After that the rooms were empty for some months, and the Lion and +the Unicorn were forced to amuse themselves with the beautiful +ladies and smart-looking men who came to Prentiss to buy +flowers and "buttonholes," and the little round baskets of +strawberries, and even the peaches at three shillings each, which +looked so tempting as they lay in the window, wrapped up in +cotton-wool, like jewels of great price. + +Then Philip Carroll, the American gentleman, came, and they heard +Prentiss telling him that those rooms had always let for five +guineas a week, which they knew was not true; but they also knew +that in the economy of nations there must always be a higher +price for the rich American, or else why was he given that +strange accent, except to betray him into the hands of the London +shopkeeper, and the London cabby? + +The American walked to the window toward the west, which was the +window nearest the Lion, and looked out into the graveyard of St. +James's Church, that stretched between their street and +Piccadilly. + +"You're lucky in having a bit of green to look out on," he said +to Prentiss. "I'll take these rooms--at five guineas. That's +more than they're worth, you know, but as I know it, too, your +conscience needn't trouble you." + +Then his eyes fell on the Lion, and he nodded to him gravely. +"How do you do?" he said. "I'm coming to live with you for a +little time. I have read about you and your friends over there. +It is a hazard of new fortunes with me, your Majesty, so be kind +to me, and if I win, I will put a new coat of paint on your +shield and gild you all over again." + +Prentiss smiled obsequiously at the American's pleasantry, but +the new lodger only stared at him. + +"He seemed a social gentleman," said the Unicorn, that night, +when the Lion and he were talking it over. "Now the Captain, the +whole time he was here, never gave us so much as a look. This +one says he has read of us." + +"And why not?" growled the Lion. "I hope Prentiss heard what he +said of our needing a new layer of gilt. It's disgraceful. You +can see that Lion over Scarlett's, the butcher, as far as Regent +Street, and Scarlett is only one of Salisbury's creations. He +received his Letters-Patent only two years back. We date from +Palmerston." + +The lodger came up the street just at that moment, and stopped +and looked up at the Lion and the Unicorn from the sidewalk, +before he opened the door with his night-key. They heard him +enter the room and feel on the mantel for his pipe, and a moment +later he appeared at the Lion's window and leaned on the sill, +looking down into the street below and blowing whiffs of smoke up +into the warm night-air. + +It was a night in June, and the pavements were dry under foot and +the streets were filled with well-dressed people, going home from +the play, and with groups of men in black and white, making their +way to supper at the clubs. Hansoms of inky-black, with shining +lamps inside and out, dashed noiselessly past on mysterious +errands, chasing close on each other's heels on a mad race, each +to its separate goal. From the cross streets rose the noises of +early night, the rumble of the 'buses, the creaking of their +brakes, as they unlocked, the cries of the "extras," and the +merging of thousands of human voices in a dull murmur. The great +world of London was closing its shutters for the night, and +putting out the lights; and the new lodger from across the sea +listened to it with his heart beating quickly, and laughed to +stifle the touch of fear and homesickness that rose in him. + +"I have seen a great play to-night," he said to the Lion, "nobly +played by great players. What will they care for my poor wares? +I see that I have been over-bold. But we cannot go back now--not +yet." + +He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and nodded "good-night" to +the great world beyond his window. "What fortunes lie with ye, +ye lights of London town?" he quoted, smiling. And they heard +him close the door of his bedroom, and lock it for the night. + +The next morning he bought many geraniums from Prentiss and +placed them along the broad cornice that stretched across the +front of the house over the shop window. The flowers made a band +of scarlet on either side of the Lion as brilliant as a Tommy's +jacket. + +"I am trying to propitiate the British Lion by placing flowers +before his altar," the American said that morning to a +visitor. + +"The British public you mean," said the visitor; "they are each +likely to tear you to pieces." + +"Yes, I have heard that the pit on the first night of a bad play +is something awful," hazarded the American. + +"Wait and see," said the visitor. + +"Thank you," said the American, meekly. + +Every one who came to the first floor front talked about a play. +It seemed to be something of great moment to the American. It +was only a bundle of leaves printed in red and black inks and +bound in brown paper covers. There were two of them, and the +American called them by different names: one was his comedy and +one was his tragedy. + +"They are both likely to be tragedies," the Lion heard one of the +visitors say to another, as they drove away together. "Our young +friend takes it too seriously." + +The American spent most of his time by his desk at the window +writing on little blue pads and tearing up what he wrote, or in +reading over one of the plays to himself in a loud voice. In +time the number of his visitors increased, and to some of these +he would read his play; and after they had left him he was +either depressed and silent or excited and jubilant. The Lion +could always tell when he was happy because then he would go to +the side table and pour himself out a drink and say, "Here's to +me," but when he was depressed he would stand holding the glass +in his hand, and finally pour the liquor back into the bottle +again and say, "What's the use of that?" + +After he had been in London a month he wrote less and was more +frequently abroad, sallying forth in beautiful raiment, and +coming home by daylight. + +And he gave suppers too, but they were less noisy than the +Captain's had been, and the women who came to them were much more +beautiful, and their voices when they spoke were sweet and low. +Sometimes one of the women sang, and the men sat in silence while +the people in the street below stopped to listen, and would say, +"Why, that is So-and-So singing," and the Lion and the Unicorn +wondered how they could know who it was when they could not see +her. + +The lodger's visitors came to see him at all hours. They +seemed to regard his rooms as a club, where they could always +come for a bite to eat or to write notes; and others treated it +like a lawyer's office and asked advice on all manner of strange +subjects. Sometimes the visitor wanted to know whether the +American thought she ought to take L10 a week and go on tour, or +stay in town and try to live on L8; or whether she should paint +landscapes that would not sell, or racehorses that would; or +whether Reggie really loved her and whether she really loved +Reggie; or whether the new part in the piece at the Court was +better than the old part at Terry's, and wasn't she getting too +old to play "ingenues" anyway. + +The lodger seemed to be a general adviser, and smoked and +listened with grave consideration, and the Unicorn thought his +judgment was most sympathetic and sensible. + +Of all the beautiful ladies who came to call on the lodger the +one the Unicorn liked the best was the one who wanted to know +whether she loved Reggie and whether Reggie loved her. She +discussed this so interestingly while she consumed tea and +thin slices of bread that the Unicorn almost lost his balance in +leaning forward to listen. Her name was Marion Cavendish and it +was written over many photographs which stood in silver frames in +the lodger's rooms. She used to make the tea herself, while the +lodger sat and smoked; and she had a fascinating way of doubling +the thin slices of bread into long strips and nibbling at them +like a mouse at a piece of cheese. She had wonderful little +teeth and Cupid's-bow lips, and she had a fashion of lifting her +veil only high enough for one to see the two Cupid-bow lips. +When she did that the American used to laugh, at nothing +apparently, and say, "Oh, I guess Reggie loves you well enough." + +"But do I love Reggie?" she would ask sadly, with her tea-cup +held poised in air. + +" I am sure I hope not," the lodger would reply, and she +would put down the veil quickly, as one would drop a curtain over +a beautiful picture, and rise with great dignity and say, "if you +talk like that I shall not come again." + +She was sure that if she could only get some work to do her +head would be filledwith more important matters than whether +Reggie loved her or not. + +"But the managers seem inclined to cut their cavendish very fine +just at present," she said. "If I don't get a part soon," she +announced, "I shall ask Mitchell to put me down on the list for +recitations at evening parties." + +"That seems a desperate revenge," said the American; "and +besides, I don't want you to get a part, because some one might +be idiotic enough to take my comedy, and if he should, you must +play Nancy." + +"I would not ask for any salary if I could play Nancy," Miss +Cavendish answered. + +They spoke of a great many things, but their talk always ended by +her saying that there must be some one with sufficient sense to +see that his play was a great play, and by his saying that none +but she must play Nancy. + +The Lion preferred the tall girl with masses and folds of brown +hair, who came from America to paint miniatures of the British +aristocracy. Her name was Helen Cabot, and he liked her because +she was so brave and fearless, and so determined to be +independent of every one, even of the lodger--especially of +the lodger, who it appeared had known her very well at home. The +lodger, they gathered, did not wish her to be independent of him +and the two Americans had many arguments and disputes about it, +but she always said, "It does no good, Philip; it only hurts us +both when you talk so. I care for nothing, and for no one but my +art, and, poor as it is, it means everything to me, and you do +not, and, of course, the man I am to marry, must." Then Carroll +would talk, walking up and down, and looking very fierce and +determined, and telling her how he loved her in such a way that +it made her look even more proud and beautiful. And she would +say more gently, "It is very fine to think that any one can care +for like that, and very helpful. But unless I cared in the same +way it would be wicked of me to marry you, and besides--" She +would add very quickly to prevent his speaking again--" I don't +want to marry you or anybody, and I never shall. I want to be +free and to succeed in my work, just as you want to succeed in +your work. So please never speak of this again." When she +went away the lodger used to sit smoking in the big arm-chair and +beat the arms with his hands, and he would pace up and down the +room while his work would lie untouched and his engagements pass +forgotten. + +Summer came and London was deserted, dull, and dusty, but the +lodger stayed on in Jermyn Street. Helen Cabot had departed on a +round of visits to country houses in Scotland, where, as she +wrote him, she was painting miniatures of her hosts and studying +the game of golf. Miss Cavendish divided her days between the +river and one of the West End theatres. She was playing a small +part in a farce-comedy. + +One day she came up from Cookham earlier than usual, looking very +beautiful in a white boating frock and a straw hat with a Leander +ribbon. Her hands and arms were hard with dragging a punting +pole and she was sunburnt and happy, and hungry for tea. + +"Why don't you come down to Cookham and get out of this heat?" +Miss Cavendish asked. "You need it; you look ill." + +"I'd like to, but I can't," said Carroll. "The fact is, I paid +in advance for these rooms, and if I lived anywhere else I'd be +losing five guineas a week on them." + +Miss Cavendish regarded him severely. She had never quite +mastered his American humor. + +"But five guineas--why that's nothing to you," she said. +Something in the lodger's face made her pause. "You don't +mean----" + +"Yes, I do," said the lodger, smiling. "You see, I started in to +lay siege to London without sufficient ammunition. London is a +large town, and it didn't fall as quickly as I thought it would. +So I am economizing. Mr. Lockhart's Coffee Rooms and I are no +longer strangers." + +Miss Cavendish put down her cup of tea untasted and leaned toward +him + +"Are you in earnest?" she asked. "For how long?" + +"Oh, for the last month," replied the lodger; "they are not at +all bad--clean and wholesome and all that." + +"But the suppers you gave us, and this," she cried, suddenly, +waving her hands over the pretty tea-things, "and the cake +and muffins?" + +"My friends, at least," said Carroll, "need not go to +Lockhart's." + +"And the Savoy?" asked Miss Cavendish, mournfully shaking her +head. + +"A dream of the past," said Carroll, waving his pipe through the +smoke. "Gatti's? Yes, on special occasions; but for necessity, +the Chancellor's, where one gets a piece of the prime roast beef +of Old England, from Chicago, and potatoes for ninepence--a pot +of bitter twopence-halfpenny, and a penny for the waiter. It's +most amusing on the whole. I am learning a little about London, +and some things about myself. They are both most interesting +subjects." + +"Well, I don't like it," Miss Cavendish declared helplessly. +"When I think of those suppers and the flowers, I feel--I feel +like a robber." + +"Don't," begged Carroll. "I am really the most happy of men-- +that is, as the chap says in the play, I would be if I wasn't so +damned miserable. But I owe no man a penny and I have assets--I +have L80 to last me through the winter and two marvellous +plays; and I love, next to yourself, the most wonderful woman God +ever made. That's enough." + +"But I thought you made such a lot of money by writing?" asked +Miss Cavendish. + +"I do--that is, I could," answered Carroll, "if I wrote the +things that sell; but I keep on writing plays that won't." + +"And such plays!" exclaimed Marion, warmly; "and to think that +they are going begging." She continued indignantly, "I can't +imagine what the managers do want." + +"I know what they don't want," said the American. Miss Cavendish +drummed impatiently on the tea-tray. + +"I wish you wouldn't be so abject about it," she said. "If I +were a man I'd make them take those plays." + +"How?" asked the American; "with a gun?" + +"Well, I'd keep at it until they read them," declared Marion. +"I'd sit on their front steps all night and I'd follow them in +cabs, and I'd lie in wait for them at the stage-door. I'd just +make them take them." + +Carroll sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I guess I'll give up +and go home," he said. + +"Oh, yes, do, run away before you are beaten," said Miss +Cavendish, scornfully. "Why, you can't go now. Everybody will +be back in town soon, and there are a lot of new plays coming on, +and some of them are sure to be failures, and that's our chance. +You rush in with your piece and somebody may take it sooner than +close the theatre." + +"I'm thinking of closing the theatre myself," said Carroll. +"What's the use of my hanging on here?" he exclaimed. "It +distresses Helen to know I am in London, feeling about her as I +do--and the Lord only knows how it distresses me. And, maybe, if +I went away," he said, consciously, "she might miss me. She +might see the difference." + +Miss Cavendish held herself erect and pressed her lips together +with a severe smile. "If Helen Cabot doesn't see the difference +between you and the other men she knows now," she said, "I doubt +if she ever will. Besides--" she continued, and then hesitated. +"Well, go on," urged Carroll. + +"Well, I was only going to say," she explained, "that leaving the +girl alone never did the man any good unless he left her alone +willingly. If she's sure he still cares, it's just the same to +her where he is. He might as well stay on in London as go to +South Africa. It won't help him any. The difference comes when +she finds he has stopped caring. Why, look at Reggie. He tried +that. He went away for ever so long, but he kept writing me from +wherever he went, so that he was perfectly miserable--and I went +on enjoying myself. Then when he came back, he tried going about +with his old friends again. He used to come to the theatre with +them--oh, with such nice girls--but he always stood in the back +of the box and yawned and scowled--so I knew. And, anyway, he'd +always spoil it all by leaving them and waiting at the stage +entrance for me. But one day he got tired of the way I treated +him and went off on a bicycle tour with Lady Hacksher's girls and +some men from his regiment, and he was gone three weeks and never +sent me even a line; and I got so scared; I couldn't sleep, and +I stood it for three days more, and then I wired him to come +back or I'd jump off London Bridge; and he came back that very +night from Edinburgh on the express, and I was so glad to see him +that I got confused, and in the general excitement I promised to +marry him, so that's how it was with us." + +"Yes," said the American, without enthusiasm; "but then I still +care, and Helen knows I care." + +"Doesn't she ever fancy that you might care for some one else? +You have a lot of friends, you know." + +"Yes, but she knows they are just that--friends," said the +American. + +Miss Cavendish stood up to go, and arranged her veil before the +mirror above the fireplace. + +"I come here very often to tea," she said. + +"It's very kind of you," said Carroll. He was at the open +window, looking down into the street for a cab. + +"Well, no one knows I am engaged to Reggie," continued Miss +Cavendish, "except you and Reggie, and he isn't so sure. SHE +doesn't know it." + +"Well?" said Carroll. + +Miss Cavendish smiled a mischievous kindly smile at him from the +mirror. + +"Well?" she repeated, mockingly. Carroll stared at her and +laughed. After a pause he said: "It's like a plot in a comedy. +But I'm afraid I'm too serious for play-acting." + +"Yes, it is serious," said Miss Cavendish. She seated herself +again and regarded the American thoughtfully. "You are too good +a man to be treated the way that girl is treating you, and no one +knows it better than she does. She'll change in time, but just +now she thinks she wants to be independent. She's in love with +this picture-painting idea, and with the people she meets. It's +all new to her--the fuss they make over her and the titles, and +the way she is asked about. We know she can't paint. We know +they only give her commissions because she's so young and pretty, +and American. She amuses them, that's all. Well, that cannot +last; she'll find it out. She's too clever a girl, and she is +too fine a girl to be content with that long. Then--then she'll +come back to you. She feels now that she has both you and the +others, and she's making you wait: so wait and be cheerful. +She's worth waiting for; she's young, that's all. She'll see the +difference in time. But, in the meanwhile, it would hurry +matters a bit if she thought she had to choose between the new +friends and you." + +"She could still keep her friends, and marry me," said Carroll; +"I have told her that a hundred times. She could still paint +miniatures and marry me. But she won't marry me." + +"She won't marry you because she knows she can whenever she wants +to;" cried Marion. "Can't you see that? But if she thought you +were going to marry some one else now?" + +"She would be the first to congratulate me," said Carroll. He +rose and walked to the fireplace, where he leaned with his arm on +the mantel. There was a photograph of Helen Cabot near his hand, +and he turned this toward him and stood for some time staring at +it. "My dear Marion," he said at last, "I've known Helen ever +since she was as young as that. Every year I've loved her more, +and found new things in her to care for; now I love her more +than any other man ever loved any other woman." + +Miss Cavendish shook her head sympathetically. + +"Yes, I know," she said; "that's the way Reggie loves me, too." + +Carroll went on as though he had not heard her. + +"There's a bench in St. James's Park," he said, "where we used to +sit when she first came here, when she didn't know so many +people. We used to go there in the morning and throw penny buns +to the ducks. That's been my amusement this summer since you've +all been away--sitting on that bench, feeding penny buns to the +silly ducks--especially the black one, the one she used to like +best. And I make pilgrimages to all the other places we ever +visited together, and try to pretend she is with me. And I +support the crossing sweeper at Lansdowne Passage because she +once said she felt sorry for him. I do all the other absurd +things that a man in love tortures himself by doing. But to what +end? She knows how I care, and yet she won't see why we +can't go on being friends as we once were. What's the use of it +all? " + +"She is young, I tell you," repeated Miss Cavendish, "and she's +too sure of you. You've told her you care; now try making her +think you don't care." + +Carroll shook his head impatiently. + +"I will not stoop to such tricks and pretence, Marion," he cried +impatiently. "All I have is my love for her; if I have to cheat +and to trap her into caring, the whole thing would be degraded." + +Miss Cavendish shrugged her shoulders and walked to the door. +"Such amateurs!" she exclaimed, and banged the door after her. + +Carroll never quite knew how he had come to make a confidante of +Miss Cavendish. Helen and he had met her when they first arrived +in London, and as she had acted for a season in the United +States, she adopted the two Americans--and told Helen where to go +for boots and hats, and advised Carroll about placing his plays. +Helen soon made other friends, and deserted the artists, with +whom her work had first thrown her. She seemed to prefer the +society of the people who bought her paintings, and who +admired and made much of the painter. As she was very beautiful +and at an age when she enjoyed everything in life keenly and +eagerly, to give her pleasure was in itself a distinct +pleasure; and the worldly tired people she met were considering +their own entertainment quite as much as hers when they asked her +to their dinners and dances, or to spend a week with them in the +country. In her way, she was as independent as was Carroll in +his, and as she was not in love, as he was, her life was not +narrowed down to but one ideal. But she was not so young as to +consider herself infallible, and she had one excellent friend on +whom she was dependent for advice and to whose directions she +submitted implicitly. This was Lady Gower, the only person to +whom Helen had spoken of Carroll and of his great feeling for +her. Lady Gower, immediately after her marriage, had been a +conspicuous and brilliant figure in that set in London which +works eighteen hours a day to keep itself amused, but after the +death of her husband she had disappeared into the country as +completely as though she had entered a convent, and after +several years had then re-entered the world as a professional +philanthropist. Her name was now associated entirely with +Women's Leagues, with committees that presented petitions to +Parliament, and with public meetings, at which she spoke with +marvellous ease and effect. Her old friends said she had taken +up this new pose as an outlet for her nervous energies, and as an +effort to forget the man who alone had made life serious to her. +Others knew her as an earnest woman, acting honestly for what she +thought was right. Her success, all admitted, was due to her +knowledge of the world and to her sense of humor, which taught +her with whom to use her wealth and position, and when to demand +what she wanted solely on the ground that the cause was just. + +She had taken more than a fancy for Helen, and the position of +the beautiful, motherless girl had appealed to her as one filled +with dangers. When she grew to know Helen better, she recognized +that these fears were quite unnecessary, and as she saw more of +her she learned to care for her deeply. Helen had told her much +of Carroll and of his double purpose in coming to London; of +his brilliant work and his lack of success in having it +recognized; and of his great and loyal devotion to her, and of +his lack of success, not in having that recognized, but in her +own inability to return it. Helen was proud that she had been +able to make Carroll care for her as he did, and that there was +anything about her which could inspire a man whom she admired so +much, to believe in her so absolutely and for so long a time. +But what convinced her that the outcome for which he hoped was +impossible, was the very fact that she could admire him, and see +how fine and unselfish his love for her was, and yet remain +untouched by it. + +She had been telling Lady Gower one day of the care he had taken +of her ever since she was fourteen years of age, and had quoted +some of the friendly and loverlike acts he had performed in her +service, until one day they had both found out that his attitude +of the elder brother was no longer possible, and that he loved +her in the old and only way. Lady Gower looked at her rather +doubtfully and smiled. + +"I wish you would bring him to see me, Helen" she said; "I think +I should like your friend very much. From what you tell me of +him I doubt if you will find many such men waiting for you in +this country. Our men marry for reasons of property, or they +love blindly, and are exacting and selfish before and after they +are married. I know, because so many women came to me when my +husband was alive to ask how it was that I continued so happy in +my married life." + +"But I don't want to marry any one," Helen remonstrated gently. +"American girls are not always thinking only of getting married." + +"What I meant was this," said Lady Gower, "that, in my +experience, I have heard of but few men who care in the way this +young man seems to care for you. You say you do not love him; +but if he had wanted to gain my interest, he could not have +pleaded his cause better than you have done. He seems to see +your faults and yet love you still, in spite of them--or on +account of them. And I like the things he does for you. I like, +for instance, his sending you the book of the moment every +week for two years. That shows a most unswerving spirit of +devotion. And the story of the broken bridge in the woods is a +wonderful story. If I were a young girl, I could love a man for +that alone. It was a beautiful thing to do." + +Helen sat with her chin on her hands, deeply considering this new +point of view. + +"I thought it very foolish of him," she confessed questioningly, +"to take such a risk for such a little thing." + +Lady Gower smiled down at her from the height of her many years. + +"Wait," she said dryly, "you are very young now--and very rich; +every one is crowding to give you pleasure, to show his +admiration. You are a very fortunate girl. But later, these +things which some man has done because he loved you, and which +you call foolish, will grow large in your life, and shine out +strongly, and when you are discouraged and alone, you will take +them out, and the memory of them will make you proud and happy. +They are the honors which women wear in secret." + +Helen came back to town in September, and for the first few days +was so occupied in refurnishing her studio and in visiting the +shops that she neglected to send Carroll word of her return. +When she found that a whole week had passed without her having +made any effort to see him, and appreciated how the fact would +hurt her friend, she was filled with remorse, and drove at once +in great haste to Jermyn Street, to announce her return in +person. On the way she decided that she would soften the blow of +her week of neglect by asking him to take her out to luncheon. +This privilege she had once or twice accorded him, and she felt +that the pleasure these excursions gave Carroll were worth the +consternation they caused to Lady Gower. + +The servant was uncertain whether Mr. Carroll was at home or not, +but Helen was too intent upon making restitution to wait for the +fact to be determined, and, running up the stairs, knocked +sharply at the door of his study. + +A voice bade her come in, and she entered, radiant and smiling +her welcome. But Carroll was not there to receive it, and +instead, Marion Cavendish looked up at her from his desk where +she was busily writing. Helen paused with a surprised laugh, but +Marion sprang up and hailed her gladly. They met half way across +the room and kissed each other with the most friendly feeling. + +Philip was out, Marion said, and she had just stepped in for a +moment to write him a note. If Helen would excuse her, she would +finish it, as she was late for rehearsal. + +But she asked over her shoulder, with great interest, if Helen +had passed a pleasant summer. She thought she had never seen her +looking so well. Helen thought Miss Cavendish herself was +looking very well also, but Marion said no; that she was too +sunburnt, she would not be able to wear a dinner-dress for a +month. There was a pause while Marion's quill scratched +violently across Carroll's note-paper. Helen felt that in some +way she was being treated as an intruder; or worse, as a guest. +She did not sit down, it seemed impossible to do so, but she +moved uncertainly about the room. She noted that there were +many changes, it seemed more bare and empty; her picture was +still on the writing-desk, but there were at least six new +photographs of Marion. Marion herself had brought them to the +room that morning, and had carefully arranged them in conspicuous +places. But Helen could not know that. She thought there was an +unnecessary amount of writing scribbled over the face of each. + +Marion addressed her letter and wrote "Immediate" across the +envelope, and placed it before the clock on the mantelshelf. +"You will find Philip looking very badly," she said, as she +pulled on her gloves. "He has been in town all summer, working +very hard--he has had no holiday at all. I don't think he's +well. I have been a great deal worried about him," she added. +Her face was bent over the buttons of her glove, and when she +raised her blue eyes to Helen they were filled with serious +concern. + +"Really," Helen stammered, "I--I didn't know--in his letters he +seemed very cheerful." + +Marion shook her head and turned and stood looking +thoughtfully out of the window. "He's in a very hard place," she +began abruptly, and then stopped as though she had thought better +of what she intended to say. Helen tried to ask her to go on, +but could not bring herself to do so. She wanted to get away. + +"I tell him he ought to leave London," Marion began again; "he +needs a change and a rest." + +"I should think he might," Helen agreed, "after three months of +this heat. He wrote me he intended going to Herne Bay or over to +Ostend." + +"Yes, he had meant to go," Marion answered. She spoke with the +air of one who possessed the most intimate knowledge of Carroll's +movements and plans, and change of plans. "But he couldn't," she +added. "He couldn't afford it. Helen," she said, turning to the +other girl, dramatically, "do you know--I believe that Philip is +very poor." + +Miss Cabot exclaimed incredulously, "Poor!" She laughed. "Why, +what do you mean?" + +"I mean that he has no money," Marion answered, sharply. "These +rooms represent nothing. He only keeps them on because he paid +for them in advance. He's been living on three shillings a day. +That's poor for him. He takes his meals at cabmen's shelters and +at Lockhart's, and he's been doing so for a month." + +Helen recalled with a guilty thrill the receipt of certain boxes +of La France roses--cut long, in the American fashion--which had +arrived within the last month at various country houses. She +felt indignant at herself, and miserable. Her indignation was +largely due to the recollection that she had given these flowers +to her hostess to decorate the dinner-table. + +She hated to ask this girl of things which she should have known +better than any one else. But she forced herself to do it. She +felt she must know certainly and at once. + +"How do you know this?" she asked. "Are you sure there is no +mistake?" + +"He told me himself," said Marion, "when he talked of letting the +plays go and returning to America. He said he must go back; +that his money was gone." + +"He is gone to America!" Helen said, blankly. + +"No, he wanted to go, but I wouldn't let him," Marion went on. +"I told him that some one might take his play any day. And this +third one he has written, the one he finished this summer in +town, is the best of all, I think. It's a love-story. It's +quite beautiful." She turned and arranged her veil at the glass, +and as she did so, her eyes fell on the photographs of herself +scattered over the mantelpiece, and she smiled slightly. But +Helen did not see her--she was sitting down now, pulling at the +books on the table. She was confused and disturbed by emotions +which were quite strange to her, and when Marion bade her good-by +she hardly noticed her departure. What impressed her most of all +in what Marion had told her, was, she was surprised to find, that +Philip was going away. That she herself had frequently urged him +to do so, for his own peace of mind, seemed now of no +consequence. Now that he seriously contemplated it, she +recognized that his absence meant to her a change in +everything. She felt for the first time the peculiar place he +held in her life. Even if she had seen him but seldom, the fact +that he was within call had been more of a comfort and a +necessity to her than she understood. + +That he was poor, concerned her chiefly because she knew that, +although this condition could only be but temporary, it would +distress him not to have his friends around him, and to entertain +them as he had been used to do. She wondered eagerly if she +might offer to help him, but a second thought assured her that, +for a man, that sort of help from a woman was impossible. + +She resented the fact that Marion was deep in his confidence; +that it was Marion who had told her of his changed condition and +of his plans. It annoyed her so acutely that she could not +remain in the room where she had seen her so complacently in +possession. And after leaving a brief note for Philip, she went +away. She stopped a hansom at the door, and told the man to +drive along the Embankment--she wanted to be quite alone, and she +felt she could see no one until she had thought it all out, +and had analyzed the new feelings. + +So for several hours she drove slowly up and down, sunk far back +in the cushions of the cab, and staring with unseeing eyes at the +white enamelled tariff and the black dash-board. + +She assured herself that she was not jealous of Marion, because, +in order to be jealous, she first would have to care for Philip +in the very way she could not bring herself to do. + +She decided that his interest in Marion hurt her, because it +showed that Philip was not capable of remaining true to the one +ideal of his life. She was sure that this explained her +feelings--she was disappointed that he had not kept up to his own +standard; that he was weak enough to turn aside from it for the +first pretty pair of eyes. But she was too honest and too just +to accept that diagnosis of her feelings as final--she knew there +had been many pairs of eyes in America and in London, and that +though Philip had seen them, he had not answered them when they +spoke. No, she confessed frankly, she was hurt with herself +for neglecting her old friend so selfishly and for so long a +time; his love gave him claims on her consideration, at least, +and she had forgotten that and him, and had run after strange +gods and allowed others to come in and take her place, and to +give him the sympathy and help which she should have been the +first to offer, and which would have counted more when coming +from her than from any one else. She determined to make amends +at once for her thoughtlessness and selfishness, and her brain +was pleasantly occupied with plans and acts of kindness. It was +a new entertainment, and she found she delighted in it. She +directed the cabman to go to Solomons's, and from there sent +Philip a bunch of flowers and a line saying that on the following +day she was coming to take tea with him. She had a guilty +feeling that he might consider her friendly advances more +seriously than she meant them, but it was her pleasure to be +reckless: her feelings were running riotously, and the sensation +was so new that she refused to be circumspect or to consider +consequences. Who could tell, she asked herself with a +quick, frightened gasp, but that, after all, it might be that she +was learning to care? From Solomons's she bade the man drive to +the shop in Cranbourne Street where she was accustomed to +purchase the materials she used in painting, and Fate, which uses +strange agents to work out its ends, so directed it that the +cabman stopped a few doors below this shop, and opposite one +where jewelry and other personal effects were bought and sold. +At any other time, or had she been in any other mood, what +followed might not have occurred, but Fate, in the person of the +cabman, arranged it so that the hour and the opportunity came +together. + +There were some old mezzotints in the window of the loan shop, a +string of coins and medals, a row of new French posters; and far +down to the front a tray filled with gold and silver cigarette- +cases and watches and rings. It occurred to Helen, who was still +bent on making restitution for her neglect, that a cigarette-case +would be more appropriate for a man than flowers, and more +lasting. And she scanned the contents of the window with the +eye of one who now saw in everything only something which might +give Philip pleasure. The two objects of value in the tray upon +which her eyes first fell were the gold seal-ring with which +Philip had sealed his letters to her, and, lying next to it, his +gold watch! There was something almost human in the way the ring +and watch spoke to her from the past--in the way they appealed to +her to rescue them from the surroundings to which they had been +abandoned. She did not know what she meant to do with them nor +how she could return them to Philip; but there was no question of +doubt in her manner as she swept with a rush into the shop. +There was no attempt, either, at bargaining in the way in which +she pointed out to the young woman behind the counter the +particular ring and watch she wanted. They had not been left as +collateral, the young woman said; they had been sold outright. + +"Then any one can buy them?" Helen asked eagerly. "They are for +sale to the public--to any one?" + + +The young woman made note of the customer's eagerness, but +with an unmoved countenance. + +"Yes, miss, they are for sale. The ring is four pounds and the +watch twenty-five." + +"Twenty-nine pounds!" Helen gasped. + +That was more money than she had in the world, but the fact did +not distress her, for she had a true artistic disregard for ready +money, and the absence of it had never disturbed her. But now it +assumed a sudden and alarming value. She had ten pounds in her +purse and ten pounds at her studio--these were just enough to pay +for a quarter's rent and the rates, and there was a hat and cloak +in Bond Street which she certainly must have. Her only assets +consisted of the possibility that some one might soon order a +miniature, and to her mind that was sufficient. Some one always +had ordered a miniature, and there was no reasonable doubt but +that some one would do it again. For a moment she questioned if +it would not be sufficient if she bought the ring and allowed the +watch to remain. But she recognized that the ring meant more to +her than the watch, while the latter, as an old heirloom which +had been passed down to him from a great-grandfather, meant +more to Philip. It was for Philip she was doing this, she +reminded herself. She stood holding his possessions, one in each +hand, and looking at the young woman blankly. She had no doubt +in her mind that at least part of the money he had received for +them had paid for the flowers he had sent to her in Scotland. +The certainty of this left her no choice. She laid the ring and +watch down and pulled the only ring she possessed from her own +finger. It was a gift from Lady Gower. She had no doubt that it +was of great value. + +"Can you lend me some money on that?" she asked. It was the +first time she had conducted a business transaction of this +nature, and she felt as though she were engaging in a burglary. + +"We don't lend money, miss," the girl said, "we buy outright. I +can give you twenty-eight shillings for this," she added. + +"Twenty-eight shillings," Helen gasped; "why, it is worth--oh, +ever so much more than that!" + +"That is all it is worth to us," the girl answered. She regarded +the ring indifferently and laid it away from her on the counter. +The action was final. + +Helen's hands rose slowly to her breast, where a pretty watch +dangled from a bowknot of crushed diamonds. It was her only +possession, and she was very fond of it. It also was the gift of +one of the several great ladies who had adopted her since her +residence in London. Helen had painted a miniature of this +particular great lady which had looked so beautiful that the +pleasure which the original of the portrait derived from the +thought that she still really looked as she did in the miniature +was worth more to her than many diamonds. + +But it was different with Helen, and no one could count what it +cost her to tear away her one proud possession. + +"What will you give me for this?" she asked defiantly. + +The girl's eyes showed greater interest. "I can give you twenty +pounds for that," she said. + +"Take it, please," Helen begged, as though she feared if she +kept it a moment longer she might not be able to make the +sacrifice. + +"That will be enough now," she went on, taking out her ten-pound +note. She put Lady Gower's ring back upon her finger and picked +up Philip's ring and watch with the pleasure of one who has come +into a great fortune. She turned back at the door. + +"Oh," she stammered, "in case any one should inquire, you are not +to say who bought these." + +"No, miss, certainly not," said the woman. Helen gave the +direction to the cabman and, closing the doors of the hansom, sat +looking down at the watch and the ring, as they lay in her lap. +The thought that they had been his most valued possessions, which +he had abandoned forever, and that they were now entirely hers, +to do with as she liked, filled her with most intense delight and +pleasure. She took up the heavy gold ring and placed it on the +little finger of her left hand; it was much too large, and she +removed it and balanced it for a moment doubtfully in the palm of +her right hand. She was smiling, and her face was lit with +shy and tender thoughts. She cast a quick glance to the left and +right as though fearful that people passing in the street would +observe her, and then slipped the ring over the fourth finger of +her left hand. She gazed at it with a guilty smile and then, +covering it hastily with her other hand, leaned back, clasping it +closely, and sat frowning far out before her with puzzled eyes. + +To Carroll all roads led past Helen's studio, and during the +summer, while she had been absent in Scotland it was one of his +sad pleasures to make a pilgrimage to her street and to pause +opposite the house and look up at the empty windows of her rooms. + +It was during this daily exercise that he learned, through the +arrival of her luggage, of her return to London, and when day +followed day without her having shown any desire to see him or to +tell him of her return he denounced himself most bitterly as a +fatuous fool. + +At the end of the week he sat down and considered his case quite +calmly. For three years he had loved this girl, deeply and +tenderly. He had been lover, brother, friend, and guardian. +During that time, even though she had accepted him in every +capacity except as that of the prospective husband, she had never +given him any real affection, nor sympathy, nor help; all she had +done for him had been done without her knowledge or intent. To +know her, to love her, and to scheme to give her pleasure had +been its own reward, and the only one. For the last few months +he had been living like a crossing-sweeper in order to be able to +stay in London until she came back to it, and that he might still +send her the gifts he had always laid on her altar. He had not +seen her in three months. Three months that had been to him a +blank, except for his work--which like all else that he did, was +inspired and carried on for her. Now at last she had returned +and had shown that, even as a friend, he was of so little account +in her thoughts, of so little consequence in her life, that after +this long absence she had no desire to learn of his welfare or to +see him--she did not even give him the chance to see her. And +so, placing these facts before him for the first time since +he had loved her, he considered what was due to himself. "Was it +good enough?" he asked. "Was it just that he should continue to +wear out his soul and body for this girl who did not want what he +had to give, who treated him less considerately than a man whom +she met for the first time at dinner? He felt he had reached the +breaking-point; that the time had come when he must consider what +he owed to himself. There could never be any other woman save +Helen, but as it was not to be Helen, he could no longer, with +self-respect, continue to proffer his love only to see it +slighted and neglected. He was humble enough concerning himself, +but of his love he was very proud. Other men could give her more +in wealth or position, but no one could ever love her as he did. +"He that hath more let him give," he had often quoted to her +defiantly, as though he were challenging the world, and now he +felt he must evolve a make-shift world of his own--a world in +which she was not his only spring of acts; he must begin all over +again and keep his love secret and sacred until she +understood it and wanted it. And if she should never want it he +would at least have saved it from many rebuffs and insults. + +With this determination strong in him, the note Helen had left +for him after her talk with Marion, and the flowers, and the note +with them, saying she was coming to take tea on the morrow, +failed to move him except to make him more bitter. He saw in +them only a tardy recognition of her neglect--an effort to make +up to him for thoughtlessness which, from her, hurt him worse +than studied slight. + +A new regime had begun, and he was determined to establish it +firmly and to make it impossible for himself to retreat from it; +and in the note in which he thanked Helen for the flowers and +welcomed her to tea, he declared his ultimatum. + +"You know how terribly I feel," he wrote; "I don't have to tell +you that, but I cannot always go on dragging out my love and +holding it up to excite your pity as beggars show their sores. I +cannot always go on praying before your altar, cutting myself +with knives and calling upon you to listen to me. You know +that there is no one else but you, and that there never can be +any one but you, and that nothing is changed except that after +this I am not going to urge and torment you. I shall wait as I +have always waited--only now I shall wait in silence. You know +just how little, in one way, I have to offer you, and you know +just how much I have in love to offer you. It is now for you to +speak--some day, or never. But you will have to speak first. +You will never hear a word of love from me again. Why should +you? You know it is always waiting for you. But if you should +ever want it, you must come to me, and take off your hat and put +it on my table and say, 'Philip, I have come to stay.' Whether +you can ever do that or not can make no difference in my love for +you. I shall love you always, as no man has ever loved a woman +in this world, but it is you who must speak first; for me, the +rest is silence." + +The following morning as Helen was leaving the house she found +this letter lying on the hall-table, and ran back with it to her +rooms. A week before she would have let it lie on the table +and read it on her return. She was conscious that this was what +she would have done, and it pleased her to find that what +concerned Philip was now to her the thing of greatest interest. +She was pleased with her own eagerness--her own happiness was a +welcome sign, and she was proud and glad that she was learning to +care. + +She read the letter with an anxious pride and pleasure in each +word that was entirely new. Philip's recriminations did not hurt +her, they were the sign that he cared; nor did his determination +not to speak of his love to her hurt her, for she believed him +when he said that he would always care. She read the letter +twice, and then sat for some time considering the kind of letter +Philip would have written had he known her secret--had he known +that the ring he had abandoned was now upon her finger. + +She rose and, crossing to a desk, placed the letter in a drawer, +and then took it out again and re-read the last page. When she +had finished it she was smiling. For a moment she stood +irresolute, and then, moving slowly toward the centre-table, cast +a guilty look about her and, raising her hands, lifted her +veil and half withdrew the pins that fastened her hat. + +"Philip," she began in a frightened whisper, "I have--I have come +to--" + +The sentence ended in a cry of protest, and she rushed across the +room as though she were running from herself. She was blushing +violently. + +"Never!" she cried, as she pulled open the door; "I could never +do it--never!" + +The following afternoon, when Helen was to come to tea, Carroll +decided that he would receive her with all the old friendliness, +but that he must be careful to subdue all emotion. + +He was really deeply hurt at her treatment, and had it not been +that she came on her own invitation he would not of his own +accord have sought to see her. In consequence, he rather +welcomed than otherwise the arrival of Marion Cavendish, who came +a half-hour before Helen was expected, and who followed a hasty +knock with a precipitate entrance. + +"Sit down," she commanded breathlessly; "and listen. I've been +at rehearsal all day, or I'd have been here before you were +awake." She seated herself nervously and nodded her head at +Carroll in an excited and mysterious manner. + +"What is it?" he asked. "Have you and Reggie--" + +"Listen," Marion repeated, "our fortunes are made; that is what's +the matter--and I've made them. If you took half the interest in +your work I do, you'd have made yours long ago. Last night," she +began impressively, "I went to a large supper at the Savoy, and I +sat next to Charley Wimpole. He came in late, after everybody +had finished, and I attacked him while he was eating his supper. +He said he had been rehearsing 'Caste' after the performance; +that they've put it on as a stop-gap on account of the failure of +the 'Triflers,' and that he knew revivals were of no use; that he +would give any sum for a good modern comedy. That was my cue, +and I told him I knew of a better comedy than any he had produced +at his theatre in five years, and that it was going begging. He +laughed, and asked where was he to find this wonderful comedy, +and I said, 'It's been in your safe for the last two months +and you haven't read it.' He said, 'Indeed, how do you know +that?' and I said, 'Because if you'd read it, it wouldn't be in +your safe, but on your stage.' So he asked me what the play was +about, and I told him the plot and what sort of a part his was, +and some of his scenes, and he began to take notice. He forgot +his supper, and very soon he grew so interested that he turned +his chair round and kept eying my supper-card to find out who I +was, and at last remembered seeing me in 'The New Boy'--and a +rotten part it was, too--but he remembered it, and he told me to +go on and tell him more about your play. So I recited it, bit by +bit, and he laughed in all the right places and got very much +excited, and said finally that he would read it the first thing +this morning." Marion paused, breathlessly. "Oh, yes, and he +wrote your address on his cuff," she added, with the air of +delivering a complete and convincing climax. + +Carroll stared at her and pulled excitedly on his pipe. + +"Oh, Marion!" he gasped, "suppose he should? He won't +though," he added, but eying her eagerly and inviting +contradiction. + +"He will," she answered, stoutly, "if he reads it." + +"The other managers read it," Carroll suggested, doubtfully. + +"Yes, but what do they know?" Marion returned, loftily. "He +knows. Charles Wimpole is the only intelligent actor-manager in +London." + +There was a sharp knock at the door, which Marion in her +excitement had left ajar, and Prentiss threw it wide open with an +impressive sweep, as though he were announcing royalty: "Mr. +Charles Wimpole," he said. + +The actor-manager stopped in the doorway bowing gracefully, his +hat held before him and his hand on his stick as though it were +resting on a foil. He had the face and carriage of a gallant of +the days of Congreve, and he wore his modern frock-coat with as +much distinction as if it were of silk and lace. He was +evidently amused. "I couldn't help overhearing the last line," +he said, smiling. "It gives me a good entrance." + +Marion gazed at him blankly: "Oh," she gasped, "we--we--were just +talking about you." + +"If you hadn't mentioned my name," the actor said, "I should +never have guessed it. And this is Mr. Carroll, I hope." + +The great man was rather pleased with the situation. As he read +it, it struck him as possessing strong dramatic possibilities: +Carroll was the struggling author on the verge of starvation: +Marion, his sweetheart, flying to him gave him hope; and he was +the good fairy arriving in the nick of time to set everything +right and to make the young people happy and prosperous. He +rather fancied himself in the part of the good fairy, and as he +seated himself he bowed to them both in a manner which was +charmingly inclusive and confidential. + +"Miss Cavendish, I imagine, has already warned you that you might +expect a visit from me," he said tentatively. Carroll nodded. +He was too much concerned to interrupt. + +"Then I need only tell you," Wimpole continued, "that I got up at +an absurd hour this morning to read your play; that I did +read it; that I like it immensely--and that if we can come to +terms I shall produce it I shall produce it at once, within a +fortnight or three weeks." + +Carroll was staring at him intently and continued doing so after +Wimpole had finished speaking. The actor felt he had somehow +missed his point, or that Carroll could not have understood him, +and repeated, "I say I shall put it in rehearsal at once." + +Carroll rose abruptly, and pushed back his chair. "I should be +very glad," he murmured, and strode over to the window, where he +stood with his back turned to his guests. Wimpole looked after +him with a kindly smile and nodded his head appreciatively. He +had produced even a greater effect than his lines seemed to +warrant. When he spoke again, it was quite simply, and +sincerely, and though he spoke for Carroll's benefit, he +addressed himself to Marion. + +"You were quite right last night," he said, "it is a most +charming piece of work. I am really extremely grateful to you +for bringing it to my notice." He rose, and going to +Carroll, put his hand on his shoulder. "My boy," he said, "I +congratulate you. I should like to be your age, and to have +written that play. Come to my theatre to-morrow and we will talk +terms. Talk it over first with your friends, so that I sha'n't +rob you. Do you think you would prefer a lump sum now, and so be +done with it altogether, or trust that the royalties may--" + +"Royalties," prompted Marion, in an eager aside. + +The men laughed. "Quite right," Wimpole assented, good- +humoredly; "it's a poor sportsman who doesn't back his own horse. + +Well, then, until to-morrow." + +"But," Carroll began, "one moment please. I haven't thanked +you." + +"My dear boy," cried Wimpole, waving him away with his stick, "it +is I who have to thank you." + +"And--and there is a condition," Carroll said, "which goes with +the play. It is that Miss Cavendish is to have the part of +Nancy." + +Wimpole looked serious and considered for a moment. + +"Nancy," he said, "the girl who interferes--a very good part. +I have cast Miss Maddox for it in my mind, but, of course, if the +author insists--" + +Marion, with her elbows on the table, clasped her hands +appealingly before her. + +"Oh, Mr. Wimpole!" she cried, "you owe me that, at least." + +Carroll leaned over and took both of Marion's hands in one of +his. + +"It's all right," he said; "the author insists." + +Wimpole waved his stick again as though it were the magic wand of +the good fairy. + +"You shall have it," he said. "I recall your performance in 'The +New Boy' with pleasure. I take the play, and Miss Cavendish +shall be cast for Nancy. We shall begin rehearsals at once. I +hope you are a quick study." + +"I'm letter-perfect now{,}" laughed Marion. + +Wimpole turned at the door and nodded to them. They were both so +young, so eager, and so jubilant that he felt strangely old and +out of it. "Good-by, then," he said. + +"Good-by, sir," they both chorussed. And Marion cried after +him, "And thank you a thousand times." + +He turned again and looked back at them, but in their rejoicing +they had already forgotten him. "Bless you, my children," he +said, smiling. As he was about to close the door a young girl +came down the passage toward it, and as she was apparently going +to Carroll's rooms, the actor left the door open behind him. + +Neither Marion nor Carroll had noticed his final exit. They were +both gazing at each other as though, could they find speech, they +would ask if it were true. + +"It's come at last, Marion," Philip said, with an uncertain +voice. + +"I could weep," cried Marion. " Philip," she exclaimed, "I would +rather see that play succeed than any play ever written, and I +would rather play that part in it than--Oh, Philip," she ended. +"I'm so proud of you!" and rising, she threw her arms about his +neck and sobbed on his shoulder. + +Carroll raised one of her hands and kissed the tips of her +fingers gently. "I owe it to you, Marion," he said--"all to +you." + +This was the tableau that was presented through the open door to +Miss Helen Cabot, hurrying on her errand of restitution and good- +will, and with Philip's ring and watch clasped in her hand. They +had not heard her, nor did they see her at the door, so she drew +back quickly and ran along the passage and down the stairs into +the street. + +She did not need now to analyze her feelings. They were only too +evident. For she could translate what she had just seen as +meaning only one thing--that she had considered Philip's love so +lightly that she had not felt it passing away from her until her +neglect had killed it--until it was too late. And now that it +was too late she felt that without it her life could not go on. +She tried to assure herself that only the fact that she had lost +it made it seem invaluable, but this thought did not comfort +her--she was not deceived by it, she knew that at last she cared +for him deeply and entirely. In her distress she blamed herself +bitterly, but she also blamed Philip no less bitterly for having +failed to wait for her. "He might have known that I must love +him in time," she repeated to herself again and again. She +was so unhappy that her letter congratulating Philip on his good +fortune in having his comedy accepted seemed to him cold and +unfeeling, and as his success meant for him only what it meant to +her, he was hurt and grievously disappointed. + +He accordingly turned the more readily to Marion, whose interests +and enthusiasm at the rehearsals of the piece seemed in contrast +most friendly and unselfish. He could not help but compare the +attitude of the two girls at this time, when the failure or +success of his best work was still undecided. He felt that as +Helen took so little interest in his success he could not dare to +trouble her with his anxieties concerning it, and she attributed +his silence to his preoccupation and interest in Marion. So the +two grew apart, each misunderstanding the other and each troubled +in spirit at the other's indifference. + +The first night of the play justified all that Marion and Wimpole +had claimed for it, and was a great personal triumph for the new +playwright. The audience was the typical first-night +audience of the class which Charles Wimpole always commanded. It +was brilliant, intelligent, and smart, and it came prepared to be +pleased. + +From one of the upper stage-boxes Helen and Lady Gower watched +the successful progress of the play with an anxiety almost as +keen as that of the author. To Helen it seemed as though the +giving of these lines to the public--these lines which he had so +often read to her, and altered to her liking--was a desecration. +It seemed as though she were losing him indeed--as though he now +belonged to these strange people, all of whom were laughing and +applauding his words, from the German Princess in the Royal box +to the straight-backed Tommy in the pit. Instead of the painted +scene before her, she saw the birch-trees by the river at home, +where he had first read her the speech to which they were now +listening so intensely--the speech in which the hero tells the +girl he loves her. She remembered that at the time she had +thought how wonderful it would be if some day some one made such +a speech to her--not Philip--but a man she loved. And now? +If Philip would only make that speech to her now! + +He came out at last, with Wimpole leading him, and bowed across a +glaring barrier of lights at a misty but vociferous audience that +was shouting the generous English bravo! and standing up to +applaud. He raised his eyes to the box where Helen sat, and saw +her staring down at the tumult, with her hands clasped under her +chin. Her face was colorless, but lit with the excitement of the +moment; and he saw that she was crying. + +Lady Gower, from behind her, was clapping her hands delightedly. + +"But, my dear Helen," she remonstrated breathlessly, "you never +told me he was so good-looking." + +"Yes," said Helen, rising abruptly, "he is--very good-looking." + +She crossed the box to where her cloak was hanging, but instead +of taking it down buried her face in its folds. + +"My dear child!" cried Lady Gower, in dismay. "What is it? The +excitement has been too much for you." + +"No, I am just happy," sobbed Helen. "I am just happy for him." + +"We will go and tell him so then," said Lady Gower. "I am sure +he would like to hear it from you to-night." + +Philip was standing in the centre of the stage, surrounded by +many pretty ladies and elderly men. Wimpole was hovering over +him as though he had claims upon him by the right of discovery. + +But when Philip saw Helen, he pushed his way toward her eagerly +and took her hand in both of his. + +"I am so glad, Phil," she said. She felt it all so deeply that +she was afraid to say more, but that meant so much to her that +she was sure he would understand. + +He had planned it very differently. For a year he had dreamed +that, on the first night of his play, there would be a supper, +and that he would rise and drink her health, and tell his friends +and the world that she was the woman he loved, and that she had +agreed to marry him, and that at last he was able, through the +success of his play, to make her his wife. + +And now they met in a crowd to shake hands, and she went her way +with one of her grand ladies, and he was left among a group of +chattering strangers. The great English playwright took him by +the hand and in the hearing of all, praised him gracefully and +kindly. It did not matter to Philip whether the older playwright +believed what he said or not; he knew it was generously meant. + +"I envy you this," the great man was saying. "Don't lose any of +it, stay and listen to all they have to say. You will never live +through the first night of your first play but once." + +"Yes, I hear them," said Philip, nervously; "they are all too +kind. But I don't hear the voice I have been listening for," he +added in a whisper. The older man pressed his hand again +quickly. "My dear boy," he said, "I am sorry." + +"Thank you," Philip answered. + +Within a week he had forgotten the great man's fine words of +praise, but the clasp of his hand he cherished always. + +Helen met Marion as she was leaving the stage door and stopped to +congratulate her on her success in the new part. Marion was +radiant. To Helen she seemed obstreperously happy and jubilant. + +"And, Marion," Helen began bravely, "I also want to congratulate +you on something else. You--you--neither of you have told me +yet," she stammered, "but I am such an old friend of both that I +will not be kept out of the secret." At these words Marion's air +of triumphant gayety vanished; she regarded Helen's troubled eyes +closely and kindly. + +"What secret, Helen?" she asked. + +"I came to the door of Philip's room the other day when you did +not know I was there," Helen answered; "and I could not help +seeing how matters were. And I do congratulate you both--and +wish you--oh, such happiness!" Without a word Marion dragged her +back down the passage to her dressing-room, and closed the door. + +"Now tell me what you mean," she said. + +"I am sorry if I discovered anything you didn't want known yet," +said Helen, "but the door was open. Mr. Wimpole had just left +you and had not shut it, and I could not help seeing." + +Marion interrupted her with an eager exclamation of +enlightenment. + +"Oh, you were there, then," she cried. "And you?" she asked +eagerly--"you thought Phil cared for me--that we are engaged, and +it hurt you; you are sorry? Tell me," she demanded, "are you +sorry?" + +Helen drew back and stretched out her hand toward the door. + +"How can you! she exclaimed, indignantly. "You have no right." + +Marion stood between her and the door. + +"I have every right," she said, "to help my friends, and I want +to help you and Philip. And indeed I do hope you ARE sorry. +I hope you are miserable. And I'm glad you saw me kiss him. +That was the first and the last time, and I did it because I was +happy and glad for him; and because I love him too, but not in +the least in the way he loves you. No one ever loved any one as +he loves you. And it's time you found it out. And if I have +helped to make you find it out I'm glad, and I don't care how +much I hurt you." + +"Marion!" exclaimed Helen," what does it mean? Do you mean +that you are not engaged; that--" + +"Certainly not," Marion answered. "I am going to marry Reggie. +It is you that Philip loves, and I am very sorry for you that you +don't love him." + +Helen clasped Marion's hands in both of hers. + +"But, Marion!" she cried, "I do, oh, I do!" + + +There was a thick yellow fog the next morning, and with it rain +and a sticky, depressing dampness which crept through the window- +panes, and which neither a fire nor blazing gas-jets could +overcome. + +Philip stood in front of the fireplace with the morning papers +piled high on the centre-table and scattered over the room about +him. + +He had read them all, and he knew now what it was to wake up +famous, but he could not taste it. Now that it had come it meant +nothing, and that it was so complete a triumph only made it the +harder. In his most optimistic dreams he had never imagined +success so satisfying as the reality had proved to be; but in +his dreams Helen had always held the chief part, and without her, +success seemed only to mock him. + +He wanted to lay it all before her, to say, "If you are pleased, +I am happy. If you are satisfied, then I am content. It was +done for you, and I am wholly yours, and all that I do is yours." + +And, as though in answer to his thoughts, there was an instant +knock at the door, and Helen entered the room and stood smiling +at him across the table. + +Her eyes were lit with excitement, and spoke with many emotions, +and her cheeks were brilliant with color. He had never seen her +look more beautiful. + +"Why, Helen!" he exclaimed, "how good of you to come. Is there +anything wrong? Is anything the matter?" + +She tried to speak, but faltered, and smiled at him appealingly. + +"What is it?" he asked in great concern. + +Helen drew in her breath quickly, and at the same moment motioned +him away--and he stepped back and stood watching her in much +perplexity. + +With her eyes fixed on his she raised her hands to her head, +and her fingers fumbled with the knot of her veil. She pulled it +loose, and then, with a sudden courage, lifted her hat proudly, +as though it were a coronet, and placed it between them on his +table. + +"Philip," she stammered, with the tears in her voice and eyes, +"if you will let me--I have come to stay." + +The table was no longer between them. He caught her in his arms +and kissed her face and her uncovered head again and again. From +outside the rain beat drearily and the fog rolled through the +street, but inside before the fire the two young people sat close +together, asking eager questions or sitting in silence, staring +at the flames with wondering, happy eyes. + + +The Lion and the Unicorn saw them only once again. It was a +month later when they stopped in front of the shop in a four- +wheeler, with their baggage mixed on top of it, and steamer- +labels pasted over every trunk. + +"And, oh, Prentiss!" Carroll called from the cab-window. "I came +near forgetting. I promised to gild the Lion and the Unicorn +if I won out in London. So have it done, please, and send the +bill to me. For I've won out all right." And then he shut the +door of the cab, and they drove away forever. + +"Nice gal, that," growled the Lion. "I always liked her. I am +glad they've settled it at last." + +The Unicorn sighed, sentimentally. "The other one's worth two of +her," he said. + + + +ON THE FEVER SHIP + +There were four rails around the ship's sides, the three lower +ones of iron and the one on top of wood, and as he looked between +them from the canvas cot he recognized them as the prison-bars +which held him in. Outside his prison lay a stretch of blinding +blue water which ended in a line of breakers and a yellow coast +with ragged palms. Beyond that again rose a range of mountain- +peaks, and, stuck upon the loftiest peak of all, a tiny block- +house. It rested on the brow of the mountain against the naked +sky as impudently as a cracker-box set upon the dome of a great +cathedral. + +As the transport rode on her anchor-chains, the iron bars around +her sides rose and sank and divided the landscape with parallel +lines. From his cot the officer followed this phenomenon with +severe, painstaking interest. Sometimes the wooden rail swept up +to the very block-house itself, and for a second of time +blotted it from sight. And again it sank to the level of the +line of breakers, and wiped them out of the picture as though +they were a line of chalk. + +The soldier on the cot promised himself that the next swell of +the sea would send the lowest rail climbing to the very top of +the palm-trees or, even higher, to the base of the mountains; and +when it failed to reach even the palm-trees he felt a distinct +sense of ill use, of having been wronged by some one. There was +no other reason for submitting to this existence, save these +tricks upon the wearisome, glaring landscape; and, now, whoever +it was who was working them did not seem to be making this effort +to entertain him with any heartiness. + +It was most cruel. Indeed, he decided hotly, it was not to be +endured; he would bear it no longer, he would make his escape. +But he knew that this move, which could be conceived in a +moment's desperation, could only be carried to success with great +strategy, secrecy, and careful cunning. So he fell back upon his +pillow and closed his eyes, as though he were asleep, and +then opening them again, turned cautiously, and spied upon his +keeper. As usual, his keeper sat at the foot of the cot turning +the pages of a huge paper filled with pictures of the war printed +in daubs of tawdry colors. His keeper was a hard-faced boy +without human pity or consideration, a very devil of obstinacy +and fiendish cruelty. To make it worse, the fiend was a person +without a collar, in a suit of soiled khaki, with a curious red +cross bound by a safety-pin to his left arm. He was intent upon +the paper in his hands; he was holding it between his eyes and +his prisoner. His vigilance had relaxed, and the moment seemed +propitious. With a sudden plunge of arms and legs, the prisoner +swept the bed sheet from him, and sprang at the wooden rail and +grasped the iron stanchion beside it. He had his knee pressed +against the top bar and his bare toes on the iron rail beneath +it. Below him the blue water waited for him. It was cool and +dark and gentle and deep. It would certainly put out the fire in +his bones, he thought; it might even shut out the glare of the +sun which scorched his eyeballs. + +But as he balanced for the leap, a swift weakness and nausea +swept over him, a weight seized upon his body and limbs. He +could not lift the lower foot from the iron rail, and he swayed +dizzily and trembled. He trembled. He who had raced his men and +beaten them up the hot hill to the trenches of San Juan. But now +he was a baby in the hands of a giant, who caught him by the +wrist and with an iron arm clasped him around his waist and +pulled him down, and shouted, brutally, "Help, some of you'se, +quick; he's at it again. I can't hold him." + +More giants grasped him by the arms and by the legs. One of them +took the hand that clung to the stanchion in both of his, and +pulled back the fingers one by one, saying, "Easy now, +Lieutenant--easy." + +The ragged palms and the sea and block-house were swallowed up in +a black fog, and his body touched the canvas cot again with a +sense of home-coming and relief and rest. He wondered how he +could have cared to escape from it. He found it so good to be +back again that for a long time he wept quite happily, until the +fiery pillow was moist and cool. + +The world outside of the iron bars was like a scene in a theatre +set for some great event, but the actors were never ready. He +remembered confusedly a play he had once witnessed before that +same scene. Indeed, he believed he had played some small part in +it; but he remembered it dimly, and all trace of the men who had +appeared with him in it was gone. He had reasoned it out that +they were up there behind the range of mountains, because great +heavy wagons and ambulances and cannon were emptied from the +ships at the wharf above and were drawn away in long lines behind +the ragged palms, moving always toward the passes between the +peaks. At times he was disturbed by the thought that he should +be up and after them, that some tradition of duty made his +presence with them imperative. There was much to be done back of +the mountains. Some event of momentous import was being carried +forward there, in which he held a part; but the doubt soon passed +from him, and he was content to lie and watch the iron bars +rising and falling between the block-house and the white +surf. + +If they had been only humanely kind, his lot would have been +bearable, but they starved him and held him down when he wished +to rise; and they would not put out the fire in the pillow, which +they might easily have done by the simple expedient of throwing +it over the ship's side into the sea. He himself had done this +twice, but the keeper had immediately brought a fresh pillow +already heated for the torture and forced it under his head. + +His pleasures were very simple, and so few that he could not +understand why they robbed him of them so jealously. One was to +watch a green cluster of bananas that hung above him from the +awning twirling on a string. He could count as many of them as +five before the bunch turned and swung lazily back again, when he +could count as high as twelve; sometimes when the ship rolled +heavily he could count to twenty. It was a most fascinating +game, and contented him for many hours. But when they found this +out they sent for the cook to come and cut them down, and the +cook carried them away to his galley. + +Then, one day, a man came out from the shore, swimming through +the blue water with great splashes. He was a most charming man, +who spluttered and dove and twisted and lay on his back and +kicked his legs in an excess of content and delight. It was a +real pleasure to watch him; not for days had anything so amusing +appeared on the other side of the prison-bars. But as soon as +the keeper saw that the man in the water was amusing his +prisoner, he leaned over the ship's side and shouted, "Sa-ay, +you, don't you know there's sharks in there?" + +And the swimming man said, "The h--ll there is!" and raced back +to the shore like a porpoise with great lashing of the water, and +ran up the beach half-way to the palms before he was satisfied to +stop. Then the prisoner wept again. It was so disappointing. +Life was robbed of everything now. He remembered that in a +previous existence soldiers who cried were laughed at and mocked. + +But that was so far away and it was such an absurd superstition +that he had no patience with it. For what could be more +comforting to a man when he is treated cruelly than to cry. +It was so obvious an exercise, and when one is so feeble that one +cannot vault a four-railed barrier it is something to feel that +at least one is strong enough to cry. + +He escaped occasionally, traversing space with marvellous +rapidity and to great distances, but never to any successful +purpose; and his flight inevitably ended in ignominious recapture +and a sudden awakening in bed. At these moments the familiar and +hated palms, the peaks and the block-house were more hideous in +their reality than the most terrifying of his nightmares. + +These excursions afield were always predatory; he went forth +always to seek food. With all the beautiful world from which to +elect and choose, he sought out only those places where eating +was studied and elevated to an art. These visits were much more +vivid in their detail than any he had ever before made to these +same resorts. They invariably began in a carriage, which carried +him swiftly over smooth asphalt. One route brought him across a +great and beautiful square, radiating with rows and rows of +flickering lights; two fountains splashed in the centre of the +square, and six women of stone guarded its approaches. One of +the women was hung with wreaths of mourning. Ahead of him the +late twilight darkened behind a great arch, which seemed to rise +on the horizon of the world, a great window into the heavens +beyond. At either side strings of white and colored globes hung +among the trees, and the sound of music came joyfully from +theatres in the open air. He knew the restaurant under the trees +to which he was now hastening, and the fountain beside it, and +the very sparrows balancing on the fountain's edge; he knew every +waiter at each of the tables, he felt again the gravel crunching +under his feet, he saw the maitre d'hotel coming forward +smiling to receive his command, and the waiter in the green apron +bowing at his elbow, deferential and important, presenting the +list of wines. But his adventure never passed that point, for he +was captured again and once more bound to his cot with a close +burning sheet. + +Or else, he drove more sedately through the London streets in +the late evening twilight, leaning expectantly across the doors +of the hansom and pulling carefully at his white gloves. Other +hansoms flashed past him, the occupant of each with his mind +fixed on one idea--dinner. He was one of a million of people who +were about to dine, or who had dined, or who were deep in dining. + +He was so famished, so weak for food of any quality, that the +galloping horse in the hansom seemed to crawl. The lights of the +Embankment passed like the lamps of a railroad station as seen +from the window of an express; and while his mind was still torn +between the choice of a thin or thick soup or an immediate attack +upon cold beef, he was at the door, and the chasseur touched +his cap, and the little chasseur put the wicker guard over the +hansom's wheel. As he jumped out he said, "Give him half-a- +crown," and the driver called after him, "Thank you, sir." + +It was a beautiful world, this world outside of the iron bars. +Every one in it contributed to his pleasure and to his comfort. +In this world he was not starved nor manhandled. He thought +of this joyfully as he leaped up the stairs, where young men with +grave faces and with their hands held negligently behind their +backs bowed to him in polite surprise at his speed. But they had +not been starved on condensed milk. He threw his coat and hat at +one of them, and came down the hall fearfully and quite weak with +dread lest it should not be real. His voice was shaking when he +asked Ellis if he had reserved a table. The place was all so +real, it must be true this time. The way Ellis turned and ran +his finger down the list showed it was real, because Ellis always +did that, even when he knew there would not be an empty table for +an hour. The room was crowded with beautiful women; under the +light of the red shades they looked kind and approachable, and +there was food on every table, and iced drinks in silver buckets. + +It was with the joy of great relief that he heard Ellis say to +his underling, "Numero cinq, sur la terrace, un couvert." It was +real at last. Outside, the Thames lay a great gray shadow. The +lights of the Embankment flashed and twinkled across it, the +tower of the House of Commons rose against the sky, and here, +inside, the waiter was hurrying toward him carrying a smoking +plate of rich soup with a pungent intoxicating odor. + +And then the ragged palms, the glaring sun, the immovable peaks, +and the white surf stood again before him. The iron rails swept +up and sank again, the fever sucked at his bones, and the pillow +scorched his cheek. + +One morning for a brief moment he came back to real life again +and lay quite still, seeing everything about him with clear eyes +and for the first time, as though he had but just that instant +been lifted over the ship's side. His keeper, glancing up, found +the prisoner's eyes considering him curiously, and recognized the +change. The instinct of discipline brought him to his feet with +his fingers at his sides. + +"Is the Lieutenant feeling better?" + +The Lieutenant surveyed him gravely. + +"You are one of our hospital stewards." + +"Yes, Lieutenant." + +"Why ar'n't you with the regiment?" + +"I was wounded, too, sir. I got it same time you did, +Lieutenant." + +"Am I wounded? Of course, I remember. Is this a hospital ship?" + +The steward shrugged his shoulders. "She's one of the +transports. They have turned her over to the fever cases." + +The Lieutenant opened his lips to ask another question; but his +own body answered that one, and for a moment he lay silent. + +"Do they know up North that I--that I'm all right?" + +"Oh, yes, the papers had it in--there was pictures of the +Lieutenant in some of them." + +"Then I've been ill some time?" + +"Oh, about eight days." + +The soldier moved uneasily, and the nurse in him became +uppermost. + +"I guess the Lieutenant hadn't better talk any more," he said. +It was his voice now which held authority. + +The Lieutenant looked out at the palms and the silent gloomy +mountains and the empty coast-line, where the same wave was +rising and falling with weary persistence. + +"Eight days," he said. His eyes shut quickly, as though with a +sudden touch of pain. He turned his head and sought for the +figure at the foot of the cot. Already the figure had grown +faint and was receding and swaying. + +"Has any one written or cabled?" the Lieutenant spoke, hurriedly. + +He was fearful lest the figure should disappear altogether before +he could obtain his answer. "Has any one come?" + +"Why, they couldn't get here, Lieutenant, not yet." + +The voice came very faintly. "You go to sleep now, and I'll run +and fetch some letters and telegrams. When you wake up, may be +I'll have a lot for you." + +But the Lieutenant caught the nurse by the wrist, and crushed his +hand in his own thin fingers. They were hot, and left the +steward's skin wet with perspiration. The Lieutenant laughed +gayly. + +"You see, Doctor," he said, briskly, "that you can't kill me. I +can't die. I've got to live, you understand. Because, sir, she +said she would come. She said if I was wounded, or if I was ill, +she would come to me. She didn't care what people thought. She +would come any way and nurse me--well, she will come. + +"So, Doctor--old man--" He plucked at the steward's sleeve, and +stroked his hand eagerly, "old man--" he began again, +beseechingly, "you'll not let me die until she comes, will you? +What? No, I know I won't die. Nothing made by man can kill me. +No, not until she comes. Then, after that--eight days, she'll be +here soon, any moment? What? You think so, too? Don't you? +Surely, yes, any moment. Yes, I'll go to sleep now, and when you +see her rowing out from shore you wake me. You'll know her; you +can't make a mistake. She is like--no, there is no one like +her--but you can't make a mistake." + +That day strange figures began to mount the sides of the ship, +and to occupy its every turn and angle of space. Some of them +fell on their knees and slapped the bare deck with their hands, +and laughed and cried out, "Thank God, I'll see God's country +again!" Some of them were regulars, bound in bandages; some were +volunteers, dirty and hollow-eyed, with long beards on boys' +faces. Some came on crutches; others with their arms around +the shoulders of their comrades, staring ahead of them with a +fixed smile, their lips drawn back and their teeth protruding. +At every second step they stumbled, and the face of each was +swept by swift ripples of pain. + +They lay on cots so close together that the nurses could not walk +between them. They lay on the wet decks, in the scuppers, and +along the transoms and hatches. They were like shipwrecked +mariners clinging to a raft, and they asked nothing more than +that the ship's bow be turned toward home. Once satisfied as to +that, they relaxed into a state of self-pity and miserable +oblivion to their environment, from which hunger nor nausea nor +aching bones could shake them. + +The hospital steward touched the Lieutenant lightly on the +shoulder. + +"We are going North, sir," he said. "The transport's ordered +North to New York, with these volunteers and the sick and +wounded. Do you hear me, sir?" + +The Lieutenant opened his eyes. "Has she come?" he asked. + +"Gee!" exclaimed the hospital steward. He glanced impatiently at +the blue mountains and the yellow coast, from which the transport +was drawing rapidly away. + +"Well, I can't see her coming just now," he said. "But she +will," he added. + +"You let me know at once when she comes." + +"Why, cert'nly, of course," said the steward. + +Three trained nurses came over the side just before the transport +started North. One was a large, motherly-looking woman, with a +German accent. She had been a trained nurse, first in Berlin, +and later in the London Hospital in Whitechapel, and at Bellevue. + +The nurse was dressed in white, and wore a little silver medal at +her throat; and she was strong enough to lift a volunteer out of +his cot and hold him easily in her arms, while one of the +convalescents pulled his cot out of the rain. Some of the men +called her "nurse;" others, who wore scapulars around their +necks, called her "Sister;" and the officers of the medical staff +addressed her as Miss Bergen. + +Miss Bergen halted beside the cot of the Lieutenant and +asked, "Is this the fever case you spoke about, Doctor--the one +you want moved to the officers' ward?" She slipped her hand up +under his sleeve and felt his wrist. + +"His pulse is very high," she said to the steward. "When did you +take his temperature?" She drew a little morocco case from her +pocket and from that took a clinical thermometer, which she shook +up and down, eying the patient meanwhile with a calm, impersonal +scrutiny. The Lieutenant raised his head and stared up at the +white figure beside his cot. His eyes opened and then shut +quickly, with a startled look, in which doubt struggled with +wonderful happiness. His hand stole out fearfully and warily +until it touched her apron, and then, finding it was real, he +clutched it desperately, and twisting his face and body toward +her, pulled her down, clasping her hands in both of his, and +pressing them close to his face and eyes and lips. He put them +from him for an instant, and looked at her through his tears. + +"Sweetheart," he whispered, "sweetheart, I knew you'd come." + +As the nurse knelt on the deck beside him, her thermometer +slipped from her fingers and broke, and she gave an exclamation +of annoyance. The young Doctor picked up the pieces and tossed +them overboard. Neither of them spoke, but they smiled +appreciatively. The Lieutenant was looking at the nurse with the +wonder and hope and hunger of soul in his eyes with which a dying +man looks at the cross the priest holds up before him. What he +saw where the German nurse was kneeling was a tall, fair girl +with great bands and masses of hair, with a head rising like a +lily from a firm, white throat, set on broad shoulders above a +straight back and sloping breast--a tall, beautiful creature, +half-girl, half-woman, who looked back at him shyly, but +steadily. + +"Listen," he said. + +The voice of the sick man was so sure and so sane that the young +Doctor started, and moved nearer to the head of the cot. +"Listen, dearest," the Lieutenant whispered. "I wanted to tell +you before I came South. But I did not dare; and then I was +afraid something might happen to me, and I could never tell you, +and you would never know. So I wrote it to you in the will I +made at Baiquiri, the night before the landing. If you hadn't +come now, you would have learned it in that way. You would have +read there that there never was any one but you; the rest were +all dream people, foolish, silly--mad. There is no one else in +the world but you; you have been the only thing in life that has +counted. I thought I might do something down here that would +make you care. But I got shot going up a hill, and after that I +wasn't able to do anything. It was very hot, and the hills were +on fire; and they took me prisoner, and kept me tied down here, +burning on these coals. I can't live much longer, but now that I +have told you I can have peace. They tried to kill me before you +came; but they didn't know I loved you, they didn't know that men +who love you can't die. They tried to starve my love for you, to +burn it out of me; they tried to reach it with their knives. But +my love for you is my soul, and they can't kill a man's soul. +Dear heart, I have lived because you lived. Now that you +know--now that you understand--what does it matter?" + +Miss Bergen shook her head with great vigor. "Nonsense," she +said, cheerfully. "You are not going to die. As soon as we move +you out of this rain, and some food cook--" + +"Good God!" cried the young Doctor, savagely. "Do you want to +kill him?" + +When she spoke the patient had thrown his arms heavily across his +face, and had fallen back, lying rigid on the pillow. + +The Doctor led the way across the prostrate bodies, apologizing +as he went. "I am sorry I spoke so quickly," he said, "but he +thought you were real. I mean he thought you were some one he +really knew--" + +"He was just delirious," said the German nurse, calmly. + +The Doctor mixed himself a Scotch and soda and drank it with a +single gesture. + +"Ugh!" he said to the ward-room. "I feel as though I'd been +opening another man's letters." + + +The transport drove through the empty seas with heavy, clumsy +upheavals, rolling like a buoy. Having been originally +intended for the freight-carrying trade, she had no sympathy +with hearts that beat for a sight of their native land, or for +lives that counted their remaining minutes by the throbbing of +her engines. Occasionally, without apparent reason, she was +thrown violently from her course: but it was invariably the case +that when her stern went to starboard, something splashed in the +water on her port side and drifted past her, until, when it had +cleared the blades of her propeller, a voice cried out, and she +was swung back on her home-bound track again. + +The Lieutenant missed the familiar palms and the tiny block- +house; and seeing nothing beyond the iron rails but great wastes +of gray water, he decided he was on board a prison-ship, or that +he had been strapped to a raft and cast adrift. People came for +hours at a time and stood at the foot of his cot, and talked with +him and he to them--people he had loved and people he had long +forgotten, some of whom he had thought were dead. One of them he +could have sworn he had seen buried in a deep trench, and covered +with branches of palmetto. He had heard the bugler, with +tears choking him, sound "taps;" and with his own hand he had +placed the dead man's campaign hat on the mound of fresh earth +above the grave. Yet here he was still alive, and he came with +other men of his troop to speak to him; but when he reached out +to them they were gone--the real and the unreal, the dead and the +living--and even She disappeared whenever he tried to take her +hand, and sometimes the hospital steward drove her away. + +"Did that young lady say when she was coming back again?" he +asked the steward. + +"The young lady! What young lady?" asked the steward, wearily. + +"The one who has been sitting there," he answered. He pointed +with his gaunt hand at the man in the next cot. + +"Oh, that young lady. Yes, she's coming back. She's just gone +below to fetch you some hard-tack." + +The young volunteer in the next cot whined grievously. + +"That crazy man gives me the creeps," he groaned. "He's always +waking me up, and looking at me as though he was going to eat +me." + +"Shut your head," said the steward. "He's a better man crazy +than you'll ever be with the little sense you've got. And he has +two Mauser holes in him. Crazy, eh? It's a damned good thing +for you that there was about four thousand of us regulars just as +crazy as him, or you'd never seen the top of the hill." + +One morning there was a great commotion on deck, and all the +convalescents balanced themselves on the rail, shivering in their +pajamas, and pointed one way. The transport was moving swiftly +and smoothly through water as flat as a lake, and making a great +noise with her steam-whistle. The noise was echoed by many more +steam-whistles; and the ghosts of out-bound ships and tugs and +excursion steamers ran past her out of the mist and disappeared, +saluting joyously. All of the excursion steamers had a heavy +list to the side nearest the transport, and the ghosts on them +crowded to that rail and waved handkerchiefs and cheered. The +fog lifted suddenly, and between the iron rails the +Lieutenant saw high green hills on either side of a great harbor. + +Houses and trees and thousands of masts swept past like a +panorama; and beyond was a mirage of three cities, with curling +smoke-wreaths and sky-reaching buildings, and a great swinging +bridge, and a giant statue of a woman waving a welcome home. + +The Lieutenant surveyed the spectacle with cynical disbelief. He +was far too wise and far too cunning to be bewitched by it. In +his heart he pitied the men about him, who laughed wildly, and +shouted, and climbed recklessly to the rails and ratlines. He +had been deceived too often not to know that it was not real. He +knew from cruel experience that in a few moments the tall +buildings would crumble away, the thousands of columns of white +smoke that flashed like snow in the sun, the busy, shrieking tug- +boats, and the great statue would vanish into the sea, leaving it +gray and bare. He closed his eyes and shut the vision out. It +was so beautiful that it tempted him; but he would not be mocked, +and he buried his face in his hands. They were carrying the +farce too far, he thought. It was really too absurd; for now +they were at a wharf which was so real that, had he not known by +previous suffering, he would have been utterly deceived by it. +And there were great crowds of smiling, cheering people, and a +waiting guard of honor in fresh uniforms, and rows of police +pushing the people this way and that; and these men about him +were taking it all quite seriously, and making ready to +disembark, carrying their blanket-rolls and rifles with them. + +A band was playing joyously, and the man in the next cot, who was +being lifted to a stretcher, said, "There's the Governor and his +staff; that's him in the high hat." It was really very well +done. The Custom-house and the Elevated Railroad and Castle +Garden were as like to life as a photograph, and the crowd was as +well handled as a mob in a play. His heart ached for it so that +he could not bear the pain, and he turned his back on it. It was +cruel to keep it up so long. His keeper lifted him in his arms, +and pulled him into a dirty uniform which had belonged, +apparently, to a much larger man--a man who had been killed +probably, for there were dark-brown marks of blood on the +tunic and breeches. When he tried to stand on his feet, Castle +Garden and the Battery disappeared in a black cloud of night, +just as he knew they would; but when he opened his eyes from the +stretcher, they had returned again. It was a most remarkably +vivid vision. They kept it up so well. Now the young Doctor and +the hospital steward were pretending to carry him down a gang- +plank and into an open space; and he saw quite close to him a +long line of policemen, and behind them thousands of faces, some +of them women's faces--women who pointed at him and then shook +their heads and cried, and pressed their hands to their cheeks, +still looking at him. He wondered why they cried. He did not +know them, nor did they know him. No one knew him; these people +were only ghosts. + +There was a quick parting in the crowd. A man he had once known +shoved two of the policemen to one side, and he heard a girl's +voice speaking his name, like a sob; and She came running out +across the open space and fell on her knees beside the +stretcher, and bent down over him, and he was clasped in two +young, firm arms. + +"Of course it is not real, of course it is not She," he assured +himself. "Because She would not do such a thing. Before all +these people She would not do it." + +But he trembled and his heart throbbed so cruelly that he could +not bear the pain. + +She was pretending to cry. + +"They wired us you had started for Tampa on the hospital ship," +She was saying, "and Aunt and I went all the way there before we +heard you had been sent North. We have been on the cars a week. +That is why I missed you. Do you understand? It was not my +fault. I tried to come. Indeed, I tried to come." + +She turned her head and looked up fearfully at the young Doctor. + +"Tell me, why does he look at me like that?" she asked. "He +doesn't know me. Is he very ill? Tell me the truth." She drew +in her breath quickly. "Of course you will tell me the truth." + +When she asked the question he felt her arms draw tight about his +shoulders. It was as though she was holding him to herself, +and from some one who had reached out for him. In his trouble he +turned to his old friend and keeper. His voice was hoarse and +very low. + +"Is this the same young lady who was on the transport--the one +you used to drive away?" + +In his embarrassment, the hospital steward blushed under his tan, +and stammered. + +"Of course it's the same young lady," the Doctor answered +briskly. "And I won't let them drive her away." He turned to +her, smiling gravely. "I think his condition has ceased to be +dangerous, madam," he said. + +People who in a former existence had been his friends, and Her +brother, gathered about his stretcher and bore him through the +crowd and lifted him into a carriage filled with cushions, among +which he sank lower and lower. Then She sat beside him, and he +heard Her brother say to the coachman, "Home, and drive slowly +and keep on the asphalt." + +The carriage moved forward, and She put her arm about him and his +head fell on her shoulder, and neither of them spoke. The +vision had lasted so long now that he was torn with the joy that +after all it might be real. But he could not bear the awakening +if it were not, so he raised his head fearfully and looked up +into the beautiful eyes above him. His brows were knit, and he +struggled with a great doubt and an awful joy. + +"Dearest," he said, "is it real?" + +"Is it real?" she repeated. + +Even as a dream, it was so wonderfully beautiful that he was +satisfied if it could only continue so, if but for a little +while. + +"Do you think," he begged again, trembling, "that it is going to +last much longer?" + +She smiled, and, bending her head slowly, kissed him. + +"It is going to last--always," she said. + + + +THE MAN WITH ONE TALENT + +The mass-meeting in the Madison Square Garden which was to help +set Cuba free was finished, and the people were pushing their way +out of the overheated building into the snow and sleet of the +streets. They had been greatly stirred and the spell of the last +speaker still hung so heavily upon them that as they pressed down +the long corridor they were still speaking loudly in his praise. + +A young man moved eagerly amongst them, and pushed his way to +wherever a voice was raised above the rest. He strained forward, +listening openly, as though he tried to judge the effect of the +meeting by the verdict of those about him. + +But the words he overheard seemed to clash with what he wished +them to be, and the eager look on his face changed to one of +doubt and of grave disappointment. When he had reached the +sidewalk he stopped and stood looking back alternately into the +lighted hall and at the hurrying crowds which were dispersing +rapidly. He made a movement as though he would recall them, as +though he felt they were still unconvinced, as though there was +much still left unsaid. + +A fat stranger halted at his elbow to light his cigar, and +glancing up nodded his head approvingly. + +"Fine speaker, Senator Stanton, ain't he?" he said. + +The young man answered eagerly. "Yes," he assented, "he is a +great orator, but how could he help but speak well with such a +subject?" + +"Oh, you ought to have heard him last November at Tammany Hall," +the fat stranger answered. "He wasn't quite up to himself to- +night. He wasn't so interested. Those Cubans are foreigners, +you see, but you ought to heard him last St. Patrick's day on +Home Rule for Ireland. Then he was talking! That speech made +him a United States senator, I guess. I don't just see how +he expects to win out on this Cuba game. The Cubans haven't got +no votes." + +The young man opened his eyes in some bewilderment. + +"He speaks for the good of Cuba, for the sake of humanity," he +ventured. + +"What?" inquired the fat stranger. "Oh, yes, of course. Well, I +must be getting on. Good-night, sir." + +The stranger moved on his way, but the young man still lingered +uncertainly in the snow-swept corridor shivering violently with +the cold and stamping his feet for greater comfort. His face was +burned to a deep red, which seemed to have come from some long +exposure to a tropical sun, but which held no sign of health. +His cheeks were hollow and his eyes were lighted with the fire of +fever and from time to time he was shaken by violent bursts of +coughing which caused him to reach toward one of the pillars for +support. + +As the last of the lights went out in the Garden, the speaker of +the evening and three of his friends came laughing and talking +down the long corridor. Senator Stanton was a conspicuous +figure at any time, and even in those places where his portraits +had not penetrated he was at once recognized as a personage. +Something in his erect carriage and an unusual grace of movement, +and the power and success in his face, made men turn to look at +him. He had been told that he resembled the early portraits of +Henry Clay, and he had never quite forgotten the coincidence. + +The senator was wrapping the collar of his fur coat around his +throat and puffing contentedly at a fresh cigar, and as he +passed, the night watchman and the ushers bowed to the great man +and stood looking after him with the half-humorous, half-envious +deference that the American voter pays to the successful +politician. At the sidewalk, the policemen hurried to open the +door of his carriage and in their eagerness made a double line, +through which he passed nodding to them gravely. The young man +who had stood so long in waiting pushed his way through the line +to his side. + +"Senator Stanton," he began timidly, "might I speak to you a +moment? My name is Arkwright; I am just back from Cuba, and +I want to thank you for your speech. I am an American, and I +thank God that I am since you are too, sir. No one has said +anything since the war began that compares with what you said to- +night. You put it nobly, and I know, for I've been there for +three years, only I can't make other people understand it, and I +am thankful that some one can. You'll forgive my stopping you, +sir, but I wanted to thank you. I feel it very much." + +Senator Stanton's friends had already seated themselves in his +carriage and were looking out of the door and smiling with mock +patience. But the senator made no move to follow them. Though +they were his admirers they were sometimes skeptical, and he was +not sorry that they should hear this uninvited tribute. So he +made a pretence of buttoning his long coat about him, and nodded +encouragingly to Arkwright to continue. "I'm glad you liked it, +sir," he said with the pleasant, gracious smile that had won him +a friend wherever it had won him a vote. "It is very +satisfactory to know from one who is well informed on the +subject that what I have said is correct. The situation there is +truly terrible. You have just returned, you say? Where were +you--in Havana?" + +"No, in the other provinces, sir," Arkwright answered. "I have +been all over the island, I am a civil engineer. The truth has +not been half told about Cuba, I assure you, sir. It is massacre +there, not war. It is partly so through ignorance, but +nevertheless it is massacre. And what makes it worse is, that it +is the massacre of the innocents. That is what I liked best of +what you said in that great speech, the part about the women and +children." + +He reached out his hands detainingly, and then drew back as +though in apology for having already kept the great man so long +waiting in the cold. "I wish I could tell you some of the +terrible things I have seen," he began again, eagerly as Stanton +made no movement to depart. "They are much worse than those you +instanced to-night, and you could make so much better use of them +than any one else. I have seen starving women nursing dead +babies, and sometimes starving babies sucking their dead mother's +breasts; I have seen men cut down in the open roads and while +digging in the fields--and two hundred women imprisoned in one +room without food and eaten with small-pox, and huts burned while +the people in them slept--" + +The young man had been speaking impetuously, but he stopped as +suddenly, for the senator was not listening to him. He had +lowered his eyes and was looking with a glance of mingled +fascination and disgust at Arkwright's hands. In his earnestness +the young man had stretched them out, and as they showed behind +the line of his ragged sleeves the others could see, even in the +blurred light and falling snow, that the wrists of each hand were +gashed and cut in dark-brown lines like the skin of a mulatto, +and in places were a raw red, where the fresh skin had but just +closed over. The young man paused and stood shivering, still +holding his hands out rigidly before him. + +The senator raised his eyes slowly and drew away. + +"What is that?" he said in a low voice, pointing with a gloved +finger at the black lines on the wrists. + +A sergeant in the group of policemen who had closed around the +speakers answered him promptly from his profound fund of +professional knowledge. + +"That's handcuffs, senator," he said importantly, and glanced at +Stanton as though to signify that at a word from him he would +take this suspicious character into custody. The young man +pulled the frayed cuffs of his shirt over his wrists and tucked +his hands, which the cold had frozen into an ashy blue, under his +armpits to warm them. + +"No, they don't use handcuffs in the field," he said in the same +low, eager tone; "they use ropes and leather thongs; they +fastened me behind a horse and when he stumbled going down the +trail it jerked me forward and the cords would tighten and tear +the flesh. But they have had a long time to heal now. I have +been eight months in prison." + +The young men at the carriage window had ceased smiling and were +listening intently. One of them stepped out and stood +beside the carriage door looking down at the shivering +figure before him with a close and curious scrutiny. + +"Eight months in prison!" echoed the police sergeant with a note +of triumph; "what did I tell you?" + +"Hold your tongue!" said the young man at the carriage door. +There was silence for a moment, while the men looked at the +senator, as though waiting for him to speak. + +"Where were you in prison, Mr. Arkwright?" he asked. + +"First in the calaboose at Santa Clara for two months, and then +in Cabanas. The Cubans who were taken when I was, were shot by +the fusillade on different days during this last month. Two of +them, the Ezetas, were father and son, and the Volunteer band +played all the time the execution was going on, so that the other +prisoners might not hear them cry 'Cuba Libre' when the order +came to fire. But we heard them." + +The senator shivered slightly and pulled his fur collar up +farther around his face. "I'd like to talk with you," he said, +"if you have nothing to do to-morrow. I'd like to go into +this thing thoroughly. Congress must be made to take some +action." + +The young man clasped his hands eagerly. "Ah, Mr. Stanton, if +you would," he cried, "if you would only give me an hour! I +could tell you so much that you could use. And you can believe +what I say, sir--it is not necessary to lie--God knows the truth +is bad enough. I can give you names and dates for everything I +say. Or I can do better than that, sir. I can take you there +yourself--in three months I can show you all you need to see, +without danger to you in any way. And they would not know me, +now that I have grown a beard, and I am a skeleton to what I was. + +I can speak the language well, and I know just what you should +see, and then you could come back as one speaking with authority +and not have to say, 'I have read,' or 'have been told,' but you +can say, 'These are the things I have seen'--and you could free +Cuba." + +The senator coughed and put the question aside for the moment +with a wave of the hand that held his cigar. "We will talk of +that to-morrow also. Come to lunch with me at one. My +apartments are in the Berkeley on Fifth Avenue. But aren't you +afraid to go back there?" he asked curiously. "I should think +you'd had enough of it. And you've got a touch of fever, haven't +you?" He leaned forward and peered into the other's eyes. + +"It is only the prison fever," the young man answered; "food and +this cold will drive that out of me. And I must go back. There +is so much to do there," he added. "Ah, if I could tell them, as +you can tell them, what I feel here." He struck his chest +sharply with his hand, and on the instant fell into a fit of +coughing so violent that the young man at the carriage door +caught him around the waist, and one of the policemen supported +him from the other side. + +"You need a doctor," said the senator kindly. "I'll ask mine to +have a look at you. Don't forget, then, at one o'clock to- +morrow. We will go into this thing thoroughly." He shook +Arkwright warmly by the hand and stooping stepped into the +carriage. The young man who had stood at the door followed him +and crowded back luxuriously against the cushions. The +footman swung himself up beside the driver, and said "Uptown +Delmonico's," as he wrapped the fur rug around his legs, and with +a salute from the policemen and a scraping of hoofs on the +slippery asphalt the great man was gone. + +"That poor fellow needs a doctor," he said as the carriage rolled +up the avenue, "and he needs an overcoat, and he needs food. He +needs about almost everything, by the looks of him." + +But the voice of the young man in the corner of the carriage +objected drowsily-- + +"On the contrary," he said, "it seemed to me that he had the one +thing needful." + +By one o'clock of the day following, Senator Stanton, having read +the reports of his speech in the morning papers, punctuated with +"Cheers," "Tremendous enthusiasm" and more "Cheers," was still in +a willing frame of mind toward Cuba and her self-appointed envoy, +young Mr. Arkwright. + +Over night he had had doubts but that the young man's enthusiasm +would bore him on the morrow, but Mr. Arkwright, when he +appeared, developed, on the contrary, a practical turn of mind +which rendered his suggestions both flattering and feasible. He +was still terribly in earnest, but he was clever enough or +serious enough to see that the motives which appealed to him +might not have sufficient force to move a successful statesman +into action. So he placed before the senator only those +arguments and reasons which he guessed were the best adapted to +secure his interest and his help. His proposal as he set it +forth was simplicity itself. + +"Here is a map of the island," he said; "on it I have marked the +places you can visit in safety, and where you will meet the +people you ought to see. If you leave New York at midnight you +can reach Tampa on the second day. From Tampa we cross in +another day to Havana. There you can visit the Americans +imprisoned in Morro and Cabanas, and in the streets you can see +the starving pacificos. From Havana I shall take you by rail to +Jucaro, Matanzas, Santa Clara and Cienfuegos. You will not be +able to see the insurgents in the fields--it is not necessary +that you should--but you can visit one of the sugar +plantations and some of the insurgent chiefs will run the forts +by night and come in to talk with you. I will show you burning +fields and houses, and starving men and women by the thousands, +and men and women dying of fevers. You can see Cuban prisoners +shot by a firing squad and you can note how these rebels meet +death. You can see all this in three weeks and be back in New +York in a month, as any one can see it who wishes to learn the +truth. Why, English members of Parliament go all the way to +India and British Columbia to inform themselves about those +countries, they travel thousands of miles, but only one member of +either of our houses of Congress has taken the trouble to cross +these eighty miles of water that lie between us and Cuba. You +can either go quietly and incognito, as it were, or you can +advertise the fact of your going, which would be better. And +from the moment you start the interest in your visit will grow +and increase until there will be no topic discussed in any of our +papers except yourself, and what you are doing and what you mean +to do. + +"By the time you return the people will be waiting, ready and +eager to hear whatever you may have to say. Your word will be +the last word for them. It is not as though you were some +demagogue seeking notoriety, or a hotel piazza correspondent at +Key West or Jacksonville. You are the only statesman we have, +the only orator Americans will listen to, and I tell you that +when you come before them and bring home to them as only you can +the horrors of this war, you will be the only man in this +country. You will be the Patrick Henry of Cuba; you can go down +to history as the man who added the most beautiful island in the +seas to the territory of the United States, who saved thousands +of innocent children and women, and who dared to do what no other +politician has dared to do--to go and see for himself and to come +back and speak the truth. It only means a month out of your +life, a month's trouble and discomfort, but with no risk. What +is a month out of a lifetime, when that month means immortality +to you and life to thousands? In a month you would make a half +dozen after-dinner speeches and cause your friends to laugh +and applaud. Why not wring their hearts instead, and hold this +thing up before them as it is, and shake it in their faces? Show +it to them in all its horror--bleeding, diseased and naked, an +offence to our humanity, and to our prated love of liberty, and +to our God." + +The young man threw himself eagerly forward and beat the map with +his open palm. But the senator sat apparently unmoved gazing +thoughtfully into the open fire, and shook his head. + +While the luncheon was in progress the young gentleman who the +night before had left the carriage and stood at Arkwright's side, +had entered the room and was listening intently. He had invited +himself to some fresh coffee, and had then relapsed into an +attentive silence, following what the others said with an amused +and interested countenance. Stanton had introduced him as Mr. +Livingstone, and appeared to take it for granted that Arkwright +would know who he was. He seemed to regard him with a certain +deference which Arkwright judged was due to some fixed position +the young man held, either of social or of political value. + +"I do not know," said Stanton with consideration, "that I am +prepared to advocate the annexation of the island. It is a +serious problem." + +"I am not urging that," Arkwright interrupted anxiously; "the +Cubans themselves do not agree as to that, and in any event it is +an afterthought. Our object now should be to prevent further +bloodshed. If you see a man beating a boy to death, you first +save the boy's life and decide afterward where he is to go to +school. If there were any one else, senator," Arkwright +continued earnestly, "I would not trouble you. But we all know +your strength in this country. You are independent and fearless, +and men of both parties listen to you. Surely, God has given you +this great gift of oratory, if you will forgive my speaking so, +to use only in a great cause. A grand organ in a cathedral is +placed there to lift men's thoughts to high resolves and +purposes, not to make people dance. A street organ can do that. +Now, here is a cause worthy of your great talents, worthy of +a Daniel Webster, of a Henry Clay." + +The senator frowned at the fire and shook his head doubtfully. + +"If they knew what I was down there for," he asked, "wouldn't +they put me in prison too?" + +Arkwright laughed incredulously. + +"Certainly not," he said; "you would go there as a private +citizen, as a tourist to look on and observe. Spain is not +seeking complications of that sort. She has troubles enough +without imprisoning United States senators." + +"Yes; but these fevers now," persisted Stanton, "they're no +respecter of persons, I imagine. A United States senator is not +above smallpox or cholera." + +Arkwright shook his head impatiently and sighed. + +"It is difficult to make it clear to one who has not been there," +he said. "These people and soldiers are dying of fever because +they are forced to live like pigs, and they are already sick with +starvation. A healthy man like yourself would be in no more +danger than you would be in walking through the wards of a New +York hospital." + +Senator Stanton turned in his armchair, and held up his hand +impressively. + +"If I were to tell them the things you have told me," he said +warningly, "if I were to say I have seen such things--American +property in flames, American interests ruined, and that five +times as many women and children have died of fever and +starvation in three months in Cuba as the Sultan has massacred in +Armenia in three years--it would mean war with Spain." + +"Well?" said Arkwright. + +Stanton shrugged his shoulders and sank back again in his chair. + +"It would either mean war," Arkwright went on, "or it might mean +the sending of the Red Cross army to Cuba. It went to +Constantinople, five thousand miles away, to help the Armenian +Christians--why has it waited three years to go eighty miles to +feed and clothe the Cuban women and children? It is like sending +help to a hungry peasant in Russia while a man dies on your +doorstep." + +"Well," said the senator, rising, "I will let you know to-morrow. + +If it is the right thing to do, and if I can do it, of course it +must be done. We start from Tampa, you say? I know the +presidents of all of those roads and they'll probably give me a +private car for the trip down. Shall we take any newspaper men +with us, or shall I wait until I get back and be interviewed? +What do you think?" + +"I would wait until my return," Arkwright answered, his eyes +glowing with the hope the senator's words had inspired, "and then +speak to a mass-meeting here and in Boston and in Chicago. Three +speeches will be enough. Before you have finished your last one +the American warships will be in the harbor of Havana." + +"Ah, youth, youth!" said the senator, smiling gravely, "it is no +light responsibility to urge a country into war." + +"It is no light responsibility," Arkwright answered, "to know you +have the chance to save the lives of thousands of little children +and helpless women and to let the chance pass." + +"Quite so, that is quite true," said the senator. "Well, good- +morning. I shall let you know to-morrow." + +Young Livingstone went down in the elevator with Arkwright, and +when they had reached the sidewalk stood regarding him for a +moment in silence. + +"You mustn't count too much on Stanton, you know," he said +kindly; "he has a way of disappointing people." + +"Ah, he can never disappoint me," Arkwright answered confidently, +"no matter how much I expected. Besides, I have already heard +him speak." + +"I don't mean that, I don't mean he is disappointing as a +speaker. Stanton is a great orator, I think. Most of those +Southerners are, and he's the only real orator I ever heard. But +what I mean is, that he doesn't go into things impulsively; he +first considers himself, and then he considers every other side +of the question before he commits himself to it. Before he +launches out on a popular wave he tries to find out where it is +going to land him. He likes the sort of popular wave that +carries him along with it where every one can see him; he +doesn't fancy being hurled up on the beach with his mouth full of +sand." + +"You are saying that he is selfish, self-seeking?" Arkwright +demanded with a challenge in his voice. "I thought you were his +friend." + +"Yes, he is selfish, and yes, I am his friend," the young man +answered, smiling; "at least, he seems willing to be mine. I am +saying nothing against him that I have not said to him. If +you'll come back with me up the elevator I'll tell him he's a +self-seeker and selfish, and with no thought above his own +interests. He won't mind. He'd say I cannot comprehend his +motives. Why, you've only to look at his record. When the +Venezuelan message came out he attacked the President and +declared he was trying to make political capital and to drag us +into war, and that what we wanted was arbitration; but when the +President brought out the Arbitration Treaty he attacked that too +in the Senate and destroyed it. Why? Not because he had +convictions, but because the President had refused a foreign +appointment to a friend of his in the South. He has been a +free silver man for the last ten years, he comes from a free +silver state, and the members of the legislature that elected him +were all for silver, but this last election his Wall Street +friends got hold of him and worked on his feelings, and he +repudiated his party, his state, and his constituents and came +out for gold." + +"Well, but surely," Arkwright objected, "that took courage? To +own that for ten years you had been wrong, and to come out for +the right at the last." + +Livingstone stared and shrugged his shoulders. "It's all a +question of motives," he said indifferently. "I don't want to +shatter your idol; I only want to save you from counting too much +on him." + +When Arkwright called on the morrow Senator Stanton was not at +home, and the day following he was busy, and could give him only +a brief interview. There were previous engagements and other +difficulties in the way of his going which he had not foreseen, +he said, and he feared he should have to postpone his visit to +Cuba indefinitely. He asked if Mr. Arkwright would be so +kind as to call again within a week; he would then be better able +to give him a definite answer. + +Arkwright left the apartment with a sensation of such keen +disappointment that it turned him ill and dizzy. He felt that +the great purpose of his life was being played with and put +aside. But he had not selfish resentment on his own account; he +was only the more determined to persevere. He considered new +arguments and framed new appeals; and one moment blamed himself +bitterly for having foolishly discouraged the statesman by too +vivid pictures of the horrors he might encounter, and the next, +questioned if he had not been too practical and so failed because +he had not made the terrible need of immediate help his sole +argument. Every hour wasted in delay meant, as he knew, the +sacrifice of many lives, and there were other, more sordid and +more practical, reasons for speedy action. For his supply of +money was running low and there was now barely enough remaining +to carry him through the month of travel he had planned to take +at Stanton's side. What would happen to him when that +momentous trip was over was of no consequence. He would have +done the work as far as his small share in it lay, he would have +set in motion a great power that was to move Congress and the +people of the United States to action. If he could but do that, +what became of him counted for nothing. + +But at the end of the week his fears and misgivings were +scattered gloriously and a single line from the senator set his +heart leaping and brought him to his knees in gratitude and +thanksgiving. On returning one afternoon to the mean lodging +into which he had moved to save his money, he found a telegram +from Stanton and he tore it open trembling between hope and fear. + +"Have arranged to leave for Tampa with you Monday, at midnight" +it read. "Call for me at ten o'clock same evening.--STANTON." + +Arkwright read the message three times. There was a heavy, +suffocating pressure at his heart as though it had ceased +beating. He sank back limply upon the edge of his bed and +clutching the piece of paper in his two hands spoke the words +aloud triumphantly as though to assure himself that they +were true. Then a flood of unspeakable relief, of happiness and +gratitude, swept over him, and he turned and slipped to the +floor, burying his face in the pillow, and wept out his thanks +upon his knees. + +A man so deeply immersed in public affairs as was Stanton and +with such a multiplicity of personal interests, could not prepare +to absent himself for a month without his intention becoming +known, and on the day when he was to start for Tampa the morning +newspapers proclaimed the fact that he was about to visit Cuba. +They gave to his mission all the importance and display that +Arkwright had foretold. Some of the newspapers stated that he +was going as a special commissioner of the President to study and +report; others that he was acting in behalf of the Cuban legation +in Washington and had plenipotentiary powers. Opposition organs +suggested that he was acting in the interests of the sugar trust, +and his own particular organ declared that it was his intention +to free Cuba at the risk of his own freedom, safety, and even +life. + +The Spanish minister in Washington sent a cable for +publication to Madrid, stating that a distinguished American +statesman was about to visit Cuba, to investigate, and, later, to +deny the truth of the disgraceful libels published concerning the +Spanish officials on the island by the papers of the United +States. At the same time he cabled in cipher to the captain- +general in Havana to see that the distinguished statesman was +closely spied upon from the moment of his arrival until his +departure, and to place on the "suspect" list all Americans and +Cubans who ventured to give him any information. + +The afternoon papers enlarged on the importance of the visit and +on the good that would surely come of it. They told that Senator +Stanton had refused to be interviewed or to disclose the object +of his journey. But it was enough, they said, that some one in +authority was at last to seek out the truth, and added that no +one would be listened to with greater respect than would the +Southern senator. On this all the editorial writers were agreed. + +The day passed drearily for Arkwright. Early in the morning he +packed his valise and paid his landlord, and for the +remainder of the day walked the streets or sat in the hotel +corridor waiting impatiently for each fresh edition of the +papers. In them he read the signs of the great upheaval of +popular feeling that was to restore peace and health and plenty +to the island for which he had given his last three years of +energy and life. + +He was trembling with excitement, as well as with the cold, when +at ten o'clock precisely he stood at Senator Stanton's door. He +had forgotten to eat his dinner, and the warmth of the dimly lit +hall and the odor of rich food which was wafted from an inner +room touched his senses with tantalizing comfort. + +"The senator says you are to come this way, sir," the servant +directed. He took Arkwright's valise from his hand and parted +the heavy curtains that hid the dining-room, and Arkwright +stepped in between them and then stopped in some embarrassment. +He found himself in the presence of a number of gentlemen seated +at a long dinner-table, who turned their heads as he entered and +peered at him through the smoke that floated in light layers +above the white cloth. The dinner had been served, but the +senator's guests still sat with their chairs pushed back from a +table lighted by candles under yellow shades, and covered with +beautiful flowers and with bottles of varied sizes in stands of +quaint and intricate design. Senator Stanton's tall figure +showed dimly through the smoke, and his deep voice hailed +Arkwright cheerily from the farther end of the room. "This way, +Mr. Arkwright," he said. "I have a chair waiting for you here." +He grasped Arkwright's hand warmly and pulled him into the vacant +place at his side. An elderly gentleman on Arkwright's other +side moved to make more room for him and shoved a liqueur glass +toward him with a friendly nod and pointed at an open box of +cigars. He was a fine-looking man, and Arkwright noticed that he +was regarding him with a glance of the keenest interest. All of +those at the table were men of twice Arkwright's age, except +Livingstone, whom he recognized and who nodded to him pleasantly +and at the same time gave an order to a servant, pointing at +Arkwright as he did so. Some of the gentlemen wore their +business suits, and one opposite Arkwright was still in his +overcoat, and held his hat in his hand. These latter seemed to +have arrived after the dinner had begun, for they formed a second +line back of those who had places at the table; they all seemed +to know one another and were talking with much vivacity and +interest. + +Stanton did not attempt to introduce Arkwright to his guests +individually, but said: "Gentlemen, this is Mr. Arkwright, of +whom I have been telling you, the young gentleman who has done +such magnificent work for the cause of Cuba." Those who caught +Arkwright's eye nodded to him, and others raised their glasses at +him, but with a smile that he could not understand. It was as +though they all knew something concerning him of which he was +ignorant. He noted that the faces of some were strangely +familiar, and he decided that he must have seen their portraits +in the public prints. After he had introduced Arkwright, the +senator drew his chair slightly away from him and turned in what +seemed embarrassment to the man on his other side. The +elderly gentleman next to Arkwright filled his glass, a servant +placed a small cup of coffee at his elbow, and he lit a cigar and +looked about him. + +"You must find this weather very trying after the tropics," his +neighbor said. + +Arkwright assented cordially. The brandy was flowing through his +veins and warming him; he forgot that he was hungry, and the +kind, interested glances of those about him set him at his ease. +It was a propitious start, he thought, a pleasant leave-taking +for the senator and himself, full of good will and good wishes. + +He turned toward Stanton and waited until he had ceased speaking. + +"The papers have begun well, haven't they?" he asked, eagerly. + +He had spoken in a low voice, almost in a whisper, but those +about the table seemed to have heard him, for there was silence +instantly and when he glanced up he saw the eyes of all turned +upon him and he noticed on their faces the same smile he had seen +there when he entered. + +"Yes," Stanton answered constrainedly. "Yes, I--" he +lowered his voice, but the silence still continued. Stanton had +his eyes fixed on the table, but now he frowned and half rose +from his chair. + +"I want to speak with you, Arkwright," he said. "Suppose we go +into the next room. I'll be back in a moment," he added, nodding +to the others. + +But the man on his right removed his cigar from his lips and said +in an undertone, "No, sit down, stay where you are;" and the +elderly gentleman at Arkwright's side laid his hand detainingly +on his arm. "Oh, you won't take Mr. Arkwright away from us, +Stanton?" he asked, smiling. + +Stanton shrugged his shoulders and sat down again, and there was +a moment's pause. It was broken by the man in the overcoat, who +laughed. + +"He's paying you a compliment, Mr. Arkwright," he said. He +pointed with his cigar to the gentleman at Arkwright's side. + +"I don't understand," Arkwright answered doubtfully. + +"It's a compliment to your eloquence--he's afraid to leave you +alone with the senator. Livingstone's been telling us that +you are a better talker than Stanton." Arkwright turned a +troubled countenance toward the men about the table, and then +toward Livingstone, but that young man had his eyes fixed gravely +on the glasses before him and did not raise them. + +Arkwright felt a sudden, unreasonable fear of the circle of +strong-featured, serene and confident men about him. They seemed +to be making him the subject of a jest, to be enjoying something +among themselves of which he was in ignorance, but which +concerned him closely. He turned a white face toward Stanton. + +"You don't mean," he began piteously, "that--that you are not +going? Is that it--tell me--is that what you wanted to say?" + +Stanton shifted in his chair and muttered some words between his +lips, then turned toward Arkwright and spoke quite clearly and +distinctly. + +"I am very sorry, Mr. Arkwright," he said, "but I am afraid I'll +have to disappoint you. Reasons I cannot now explain have arisen +which make my going impossible--quite impossible," he added +firmly--"not only now, but later," he went on quickly, as +Arkwright was about to interrupt him. + +Arkwright made no second attempt to speak. He felt the muscles +of his face working and the tears coming to his eyes, and to hide +his weakness he twisted in his chair and sat staring ahead of him +with his back turned to the table. He heard Livingstone's voice +break the silence with some hurried question, and immediately his +embarrassment was hidden in a murmur of answers and the moving of +glasses as the men shifted in their chairs and the laughter and +talk went on as briskly as before. Arkwright saw a sideboard +before him and a servant arranging some silver on one of the +shelves. He watched the man do this with a concentrated interest +as though the dull, numbed feeling in his brain caught at the +trifle in order to put off, as long as possible, the +consideration of the truth. + +And then beyond the sideboard and the tapestry on the wall above +it, he saw the sun shining down upon the island of Cuba, he saw +the royal palms waving and bending, the dusty columns of +Spanish infantry crawling along the white roads and leaving +blazing huts and smoking cane-fields in their wake; he saw +skeletons of men and women seeking for food among the refuse of +the street; he heard the order given to the firing squad, the +splash of the bullets as they scattered the plaster on the prison +wall, and he saw a kneeling figure pitch forward on its face, +with a useless bandage tied across its sightless eyes. + +Senator Stanton brought him back with a sharp shake of the +shoulder. He had also turned his back on the others, and was +leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He spoke rapidly, +and in a voice only slightly raised above a whisper. + +"I am more than sorry, Arkwright," he said earnestly. "You +mustn't blame me altogether. I have had a hard time of it this +afternoon. I wanted to go. I really wanted to go. The thing +appealed to me, it touched me, it seemed as if I owed it to +myself to do it. But they were too many for me," he added with a +backward toss of his head toward the men around his table. + +"If the papers had not told on me I could have got well away," he +went on in an eager tone, "but as soon as they read of it, they +came here straight from their offices. You know who they are, +don't you?" he asked, and even in his earnestness there was an +added touch of importance in his tone as he spoke the name of his +party's leader, of men who stood prominently in Wall Street and +who were at the head of great trusts. + +"You see how it is," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. +"They have enormous interests at stake. They said I would drag +them into war, that I would disturb values, that the business +interests of the country would suffer. I'm under obligations to +most of them, they have advised me in financial matters, and they +threatened--they threatened to make it unpleasant for me." His +voice hardened and he drew in his breath quickly, and laughed. +"You wouldn't understand if I were to tell you. It's rather +involved. And after all, they may be right, agitation may be bad +for the country. And your party leader after all is your party +leader, isn't he, and if he says 'no' what are you to do? +My sympathies are just as keen for these poor women and children +as ever, but as these men say, 'charity begins at home,' and we +mustn't do anything to bring on war prices again, or to send +stocks tumbling about our heads, must we?" He leaned back in his +chair again and sighed. "Sympathy is an expensive luxury, I +find," he added. + +Arkwright rose stiffly and pushed Stanton away from him with his +hand. He moved like a man coming out of a dream. + +"Don't talk to me like that," he said in a low voice. The noise +about the table ended on the instant, but Arkwright did not +notice that it had ceased. "You know I don't understand that," +he went on; "what does it matter to me!" He put his hand up to +the side of his face and held it there, looking down at Stanton. +He had the dull, heavy look in his eyes of a man who has just +come through an operation under some heavy drug. "'Wall Street,' +'trusts,' 'party leaders,'" he repeated, "what are they to me? +The words don't reach me, they have lost their meaning, it is a +language I have forgotten, thank God!" he added. He turned +and moved his eyes around the table, scanning the faces of the +men before him. + +"Yes, you are twelve to one," he said at last, still speaking +dully and in a low voice, as though he were talking to himself. +"You have won a noble victory, gentlemen. I congratulate you. +But I do not blame you, we are all selfish and self-seeking. I +thought I was working only for Cuba, but I was working for +myself, just as you are. I wanted to feel that it was I who had +helped to bring relief to that plague-spot, that it was through +my efforts the help had come. Yes, if he had done as I asked, I +suppose I would have taken the credit." + +He swayed slightly, and to steady himself caught at the back of +his chair. But at the same moment his eyes glowed fiercely and +he held himself erect again. He pointed with his finger at the +circle of great men who sat looking up at him in curious silence. + +"You are like a ring of gamblers around a gaming table," he cried +wildly, "who see nothing but the green cloth and the wheel and +the piles of money before them, who forget in watching the +money rise and fall, that outside the sun is shining, that human +beings are sick and suffering, that men are giving their lives +for an idea, for a sentiment, for a flag. You are the money- +changers in the temple of this great republic and the day will +come, I pray to God, when you will be scourged and driven out +with whips. Do you think you can form combines and deals that +will cheat you into heaven? Can your 'trusts' save your souls-- +is 'Wall Street' the strait and narrow road to salvation?" + +The men about the table leaned back and stared at Arkwright in as +great amazement as though he had violently attempted an assault +upon their pockets, or had suddenly gone mad in their presence. +Some of them frowned, and others appeared not to have heard, and +others smiled grimly and waited for him to continue as though +they were spectators at a play. + +The political leader broke the silence with a low aside to +Stanton. "Does the gentleman belong to the Salvation Army?" he +asked. + +Arkwright whirled about and turned upon him fiercely. + +"Old gods give way to new gods," he cried. "Here is your +brother. I am speaking for him. Do you ever think of him? How +dare you sneer at me?" he cried. "You can crack your whip over +that man's head and turn him from what in his heart and +conscience he knows is right; you can crack your whip over the +men who call themselves free-born American citizens and who have +made you their boss--sneer at them if you like, but you have no +collar on my neck. If you are a leader, why don't you lead your +people to what is good and noble? Why do you stop this man in +the work God sent him here to do? You would make a party hack of +him, a political prostitute, something lower than the woman who +walks the streets. She sells her body--this man is selling his +soul." + +He turned, trembling and quivering, and shook his finger above +the upturned face of the senator. + +"What have you done with your talents, Stanton?" he cried. "What +have you done with your talents?" + +The man in the overcoat struck the table before him with his +fist so that the glasses rang. + +"By God," he laughed, "I call him a better speaker than Stanton! +Livingstone's right, he IS better than Stanton--but he lacks +Stanton's knack of making himself popular," he added. He looked +around the table inviting approbation with a smile, but no one +noticed him, nor spoke to break the silence. + +Arkwright heard the words dully and felt that he was being +mocked. He covered his face with his hands and stood breathing +brokenly; his body was still trembling with an excitement he +could not master. + +Stanton rose from his chair and shook him by the shoulder. "Are +you mad, Arkwright?" he cried. "You have no right to insult my +guests or me. Be calm--control yourself." + +"What does it matter what I say?" Arkwright went on desperately. +"I am mad. Yes, that is it, I am mad. They have won and I have +lost, and it drove me beside myself. I counted on you. I knew +that no one else could let my people go. But I'll not +trouble you again. I wish you good-night, sir, and good-bye. If +I have been unjust, you must forget it." + +He turned sharply, but Stanton placed a detaining hand on his +shoulder. "Wait," he commanded querulously; "where are you +going? Will you, still--?" + +Arkwright bowed his head. "Yes," he answered. "I have but just +time now to catch our train--my train, I mean." + +He looked up at Stanton and taking his hand in both of his, drew +the man toward him. All the wildness and intolerance in his +manner had passed, and as he raised his eyes they were full of a +firm resolve. + +"Come," he said simply; "there is yet time. Leave these people +behind you. What can you answer when they ask what have you done +with your talents?" + +"Good God, Arkwright," the senator exclaimed angrily, pulling his +hand away; "don't talk like a hymn-book, and don't make another +scene. What you ask is impossible. Tell me what I can do to +help you in any other way, and--" + +"Come," repeated the young man firmly. + +"The world may judge you by what you do to-night." + +Stanton looked at the boy for a brief moment with a strained and +eager scrutiny, and then turned away abruptly and shook his head +in silence, and Arkwright passed around the table and on out of +the room. + +A month later, as the Southern senator was passing through the +reading-room of the Union Club, Livingstone beckoned to him, and +handing him an afternoon paper pointed at a paragraph in silence. + +The paragraph was dated Sagua la Grande, and read: + +"The body of Henry Arkwright, an American civil engineer, was +brought into Sagua to-day by a Spanish column. It was found +lying in a road three miles beyond the line of forts. Arkwright +was surprised by a guerilla force while attempting to make his +way to the insurgent camp, and on resisting was shot. The body +has been handed over to the American consul for interment. It is +badly mutilated." + +Stanton lowered the paper and stood staring out of the window at +the falling snow and the cheery lights and bustling energy +of the avenue. + +"Poor fellow," he said, "he wanted so much to help them. And he +didn't accomplish anything, did he?" + +Livingstone stared at the older man and laughed shortly. + +"Well, I don't know," he said. "He died. Some of us only +live." + + + +THE VAGRANT + +His Excellency Sir Charles Greville, K. C M. G., Governor of the +Windless Islands, stood upon the veranda of Government House +surveying the new day with critical and searching eyes. Sir +Charles had been so long absolute monarch of the Windless Isles +that he had assumed unconsciously a mental attitude of suzerainty +over even the glittering waters of the Caribbean Sea, and the +coral reefs under the waters, and the rainbow skies that floated +above them. But on this particular morning not even the critical +eye of the Governor could distinguish a single flaw in the +tropical landscape before him. + +The lawn at his feet ran down to meet the dazzling waters of the +bay, the blue waters of the bay ran to meet a great stretch of +absinthe green, the green joined a fairy sky of pink and +gold and saffron. Islands of coral floated on the sea of +absinthe, and derelict clouds of mother-of-pearl swung low above +them, starting from nowhere and going nowhere, but drifting +beautifully, like giant soap-bubbles of light and color. Where +the lawn touched the waters of the bay the cocoanut-palms reached +their crooked lengths far up into the sunshine, and as the sea- +breeze stirred their fronds they filled the hot air with whispers +and murmurs like the fluttering of many fans. Nature smiled +boldly upon the Governor, confident in her bountiful beauty, as +though she said, "Surely you cannot but be pleased with me to- +day." And, as though in answer, the critical and searching +glance of Sir Charles relaxed. + +The crunching of the gravel and the rattle of the sentry's musket +at salute recalled him to his high office and to the duties of +the morning. He waved his hand, and, as though it were a wand, +the sentry moved again, making his way to the kitchen-garden, and +so around Government House and back to the lawn-tennis court, +maintaining in his solitary pilgrimage the dignity of her +Majesty's representative, as well as her Majesty's power +over the Windless Isles. + +The Governor smiled slightly, with the ease of mind of one who +finds all things good. Supreme authority, surroundings of +endless beauty, the respectful, even humble, deference of his +inferiors, and never even an occasional visit from a superior, +had in four years lowered him into a bed of ease and self- +satisfaction. He was cut off from the world, and yet of it. +Each month there came, via Jamaica, the three weeks' old copy +of The Weekly Times; he subscribed to Mudie's Colonial Library; +and from the States he had imported an American lawn-mower, the +mechanism of which no one as yet understood. Within his own +borders he had created a healthy, orderly seaport out of what had +been a sink of fever and a refuge for all the ne'er-do-wells and +fugitive revolutionists of Central America. + +He knew, as he sat each evening on his veranda, looking across +the bay, that in the world beyond the pink and gold sunset men +were still panting, struggling, and starving; crises were rising +and passing; strikes and panics, wars and the rumors of +wars, swept from continent to continent; a plague crept through +India; a filibuster with five hundred men at his back crossed an +imaginary line and stirred the world from Cape Town to London; +Emperors were crowned; the good Queen celebrated the longest +reign; and a captain of artillery imprisoned in a swampy island +in the South Atlantic caused two hemispheres to clamor for his +rescue, and lit a race war that stretched from Algiers to the +boulevards. + +And yet, at the Windless Isles, all these happenings seemed to +Sir Charles like the morning's memory of a dream. For these +things never crossed the ring of the coral reefs; he saw them +only as pictures in an illustrated paper a month old. And he was +pleased to find that this was so. He was sufficient to himself, +with his own responsibilities and social duties and public works. + +He was a man in authority, who said to others, "Come!" and "Go!" +Under him were commissioners, and under the commissioners +district inspectors and boards of education and of highways. For +the better health of the colony he had planted trees that +sucked the malaria from the air; for its better morals he had +substituted as a Sunday amusement cricket-matches for cock- +fights; and to keep it at peace he had created a local +constabulary of native negroes, and had dressed them in the cast- +off uniforms of London policemen. His handiwork was everywhere, +and his interest was all sunk in his handiwork. The days passed +gorgeous with sunshine, the nights breathed with beauty. It was +an existence of leisurely occupation, and one that promised no +change, and he was content. + +As it was Thursday, the Council met that morning, and some +questions of moment to the colony were to be brought up for +consideration. The question of the dog-tax was one which +perplexed Sir Charles most particularly. The two Councillors +elected by the people and the three appointed by the crown had +disagreed as to this tax. Of the five hundred British subjects +at the seaport, all but ten were owners of dogs, and it had +occurred to Sassoon, the chemist, that a tax of half-a-crown a +year on each of these dogs would meet the expense of +extending the oyster-shell road to the new cricket-grounds. To +this Snellgrove, who held the contract for the narrow-gauge +railroad, agreed; but the three crown Councillors opposed the tax +vigorously, on the ground that as scavengers alone the dogs were +a boon to the colony and should be encouraged. The fact that +each of these gentlemen owned not only one, but several dogs of +high pedigree made their position one of great delicacy. + +There was no way by which the Governor could test the popular +will in the matter, except through his secretary, Mr. Clarges, +who, at the cricket-match between the local eleven and the +officers and crew of H. M. S. Partridge, had been informed by +the other owners of several fox-terriers that, in their opinion, +the tax was a piece of "condemned tommy-rot." From this the +Governor judged that it would not prove a popular measure. As he +paced the veranda, drawing deliberately on his cigar, and +considering to which party he should give the weight of his final +support, his thoughts were disturbed by the approach of a +stranger, who advanced along the gravel walk, guarded on +either side by one of the local constabulary. The stranger was +young and of poor appearance. His bare feet were bound in a pair +of the rope sandals worn by the natives, his clothing was of torn +and soiled drill, and he fanned his face nonchalantly with a +sombrero of battered and shapeless felt. + +Sir Charles halted in his walk, and holding his cigar behind his +back, addressed himself to the sergeant. + +"A vagrant?" he asked. + +The words seemed to bear some amusing significance to the +stranger, for his face lit instantly with a sweet and charming +smile, and while he turned to hear the sergeant's reply, he +regarded him with a kindly and affectionate interest. + +"Yes, your Excellency." + +The Governor turned to the prisoner. + +"Do you know the law of this colony regarding vagrants?" + +"I do not," the young man answered. His tone was politely +curious, and suggested that he would like to be further informed +as to the local peculiarities of a foreign country. + +"After two weeks' residence," the Governor recited, impressively, +"all able-bodied persons who will not work are put to work or +deported. Have you made any effort to find work?" + +Again the young man smiled charmingly. He shook his head and +laughed. "Oh dear no," he said. + +The laugh struck the Governor as impertinent. + +"Then you must leave by the next mail-steamer, if you have any +money to pay your passage, or, if you have no money, you must go +to work on the roads. Have you any money?" + +"If I had, I wouldn't--be a vagrant," the young man answered. +His voice was low and singularly sweet. It seemed to suit the +indolence of his attitude and the lazy, inconsequent smile. "I +called on our consular agent here," he continued, leisurely, "to +write a letter home for money, but he was disgracefully drunk, so +I used his official note-paper to write to the State Department +about him, instead." + +The Governor's deepest interest was aroused. The American +consular agent was one of the severest trials he was forced to +endure. + +"You are not a British subject, then? Ah, I see--and--er--your +representative was unable to assist you?" + +"He was drunk," the young man repeated, placidly. "He has been +drunk ever since I have been here, particularly in the mornings." + +He halted, as though the subject had lost interest for him, and +gazed pleasantly at the sunny bay and up at the moving palms. + +"Then," said the Governor, as though he had not been interrupted, +"as you have no means of support, you will help support the +colony until you can earn money to leave it. That will do, +sergeant." + +The young man placed his hat upon his head and turned to move +away, but at the first step he swayed suddenly and caught at the +negro's shoulder, clasping his other hand across his eyes. The +sergeant held him by the waist, and looked up at the Governor +with some embarrassment. + +"The young gentleman has not been well, Sir Charles," he said, +apologetically. + +The stranger straightened himself up and smiled vaguely. +"I'm all right," he murmured. "Sun's too hot." + +"Sit down," said the Governor. + +He observed the stranger more closely. He noticed now that +beneath the tan his face was delicate and finely cut, and that +his yellow hair clung closely to a well-formed head. + +"He seems faint. Has he had anything to eat?" asked the +Governor. + +The sergeant grinned guiltily. "Yes, Sir Charles; we've been +feeding him at the barracks. It's fever, sir." + +Sir Charles was not unacquainted with fallen gentlemen, "beach- +combers," "remittance men," and vagrants who had known better +days, and there had been something winning in this vagrant's +smile, and, moreover, he had reported that thorn in his flesh, +the consular agent, to the proper authorities. + +He conceived an interest in a young man who, though with naked +feet, did not hesitate to correspond with his Minister of Foreign +Affairs. + +"How long have you been ill?" he asked. + +The young man looked up from where he had sunk on the steps, and +roused himself with a shrug. "It doesn't matter," he said. +"I've had a touch of Chagres ever since I was on the Isthmus. I +was at work there on the railroad." + +"Did you come here from Colon?" + +"No; I worked up the Pacific side. I was clerking with Rossner +Brothers at Amapala for a while, because I speak a little German, +and then I footed it over to Puerto Cortez and got a job with the +lottery people. They gave me twenty dollars a month gold for +rolling the tickets, and I put it all in the drawing, and won as +much as ten." He laughed, and sitting erect, drew from his +pocket a roll of thin green papers. "These are for the next +drawing," he said. "Have some?" he added. He held them towards +the negro sergeant, who, under the eye of the Governor, resisted, +and then spread the tickets on his knee like a hand at cards. "I +stand to win a lot with these," he said, with a cheerful sigh. +"You see, until the list's published I'm prospectively worth +twenty thousand dollars. And," he added, "I break stones in the +sun." He rose unsteadily, and saluted the Governor with a +nod. "Good-morning, sir," he said, "and thank you." + +"Wait," Sir Charles commanded. A new form of punishment had +suggested itself, in which justice was tempered with mercy. "Can +you work one of your American lawn-mowers?" he asked. + +The young man laughed delightedly. "I never tried," he said, +"but I've seen it done." + +"If you've been ill, it would be murder to put you on the shell +road." The Governor's dignity relaxed into a smile. "I don't +desire international complications," he said. "Sergeant, take +this--him--to the kitchen, and tell Corporal Mallon to give him +that American lawn-mowing machine. Possibly he may understand +its mechanism. Mallon only cuts holes in the turf with it." And +he waved his hand in dismissal, and as the three men moved away +he buried himself again in the perplexities of the dog-tax. + +Ten minutes later the deliberations of the Council were disturbed +by a loud and persistent rattle, like the whir of a Maxim gun, +which proved, on investigation, to arise from the American lawn- +mower. The vagrant was propelling it triumphantly across +the lawn, and gazing down at it with the same fond pride with +which a nursemaid leans over the perambulator to observe her +lusty and gurgling charge. + + +The Councillors had departed, Sir Charles was thinking of +breakfast, the Maxim-like lawn-mower still irritated the silent +hush of midday, when from the waters of the inner harbor there +came suddenly the sharp report of a saluting gun and the rush of +falling anchor-chains. There was still a week to pass before the +mail-steamer should arrive, and H. M. S. Partridge had +departed for Nassau. Besides these ships, no other vessel had +skirted the buoys of the bay in eight long smiling months. Mr. +Clarges, the secretary, with an effort to appear calm, and the +orderly, suffocated with the news, entered through separate doors +at the same instant. + +The secretary filed his report first. "A yacht's just anchored +in the bay, Sir Charles," he said. + +The orderly's face fell. He looked aggrieved. "An American +yacht," he corrected. + +"And much larger than the Partridge," continued the secretary. + +The orderly took a hasty glance back over his shoulder. "She has +her launch lowered already, sir," he said. + +Outside the whir of the lawn-mower continued undisturbed. Sir +Charles reached for his marine-glass, and the three men hurried +to the veranda. + +"It looks like a man-of-war," said Sir Charles. "No," he added, +adjusting the binocular; "she's a yacht. She flies the New York +Yacht Club pennant--now she's showing the owner's absent pennant. + +He must have left in the launch. He's coming ashore now." + +"He seems in a bit of a hurry," growled Mr. Clarges. + +"Those Americans always--" murmured Sir Charles from behind the +binocular. He did not quite know that he enjoyed this sudden +onslaught upon the privacy of his harbor and port. + +It was in itself annoying, and he was further annoyed to find +that it could in the least degree disturb his poise. + +The launch was growing instantly larger, like an express train +approaching a station at full speed; her flags flew out as flat +as pieces of painted tin; her bits of brass-work flashed like +fire. Already the ends of the wharves were white with groups of +natives. + +"You might think he was going to ram the town," suggested the +secretary. + +"Oh, I say," he exclaimed, in remonstrance, "he's making in for +your private wharf." + +The Governor was rearranging the focus of the glass with nervous +fingers. "I believe," he said, "no--yes--upon my word, there +are--there are ladies in that launch!" + +"Ladies, sir!" The secretary threw a hasty glance at the +binocular, but it was in immediate use. + +The clatter of the lawn-mower ceased suddenly, and the relief of +its silence caused the Governor to lower his eyes. He saw the +lawn-mower lying prostrate on the grass. The vagrant had +vanished. + +There was a sharp tinkle of bells, and the launch slipped up to +the wharf and halted as softly as a bicycle. A man in a +yachting-suit jumped from her, and making some laughing +speech to the two women in the stern, walked briskly across the +lawn, taking a letter from his pocket as he came. Sir Charles +awaited him gravely; the occupants of the launch had seen him, +and it was too late to retreat. + +"Sir Charles Greville, I believe," said the yachtsman. He bowed, +and ran lightly up the steps. "I am Mr. Robert Collier, from New +York," he said. "I have a letter to you from your ambassador at +Washington. If you'll pardon me, I'll present it in person. I +had meant to leave it, but seeing you--" He paused, and gave the +letter in his hand to Sir Charles, who waved him towards his +library. + +Sir Charles scowled at the letter through his monocle, and then +shook hands with his visitor. "I am very glad to see you, Mr. +Collier," he said. "He says here you are preparing a book on our +colonies in the West Indies." He tapped the letter with his +monocle. "I am sure I shall be most happy to assist you with any +information in my power." + +"Well, I am writing a book--yes," Mr. Collier observed, +doubtfully, "but it's a logbook. This trip I am on pleasure +bent, and I also wish to consult with you on a personal matter. +However, that can wait." He glanced out of the windows to where +the launch lay in the sun. "My wife came ashore with me, Sir +Charles," he said, "so that in case there was a Lady Greville, +Mrs. Collier could call on her, and we could ask if you would +waive etiquette and do us the honor to dine with us to-night on +the yacht--that is, if you are not engaged." + +Sir Charles smiled. "There is no Lady Greville," he said, "and I +personally do not think I am engaged elsewhere." He paused in +thought, as though to make quite sure he was not. "No," he +added, "I have no other engagement. I will come with pleasure." + +Sir Charles rose and clapped his hands for the orderly. +"Possibly the ladies will come up to the veranda?" he asked. "I +cannot allow them to remain at the end of my wharf." He turned, +and gave directions to the orderly to bring limes and bottles of +soda and ice, and led the way across the lawn. + +Mrs. Collier and her friend had not explored the grounds of +Government House for over ten minutes before Sir Charles felt +that many years ago he had personally arranged their visit, that +he had known them for even a longer time, and that, now that they +had finally arrived, they must never depart. + +To them there was apparently nothing on his domain which did not +thrill with delightful interest. They were as eager as two +children at a pantomime, and as unconscious. As a rule, Sir +Charles had found it rather difficult to meet the women of his +colony on a path which they were capable of treading +intelligently. In fairness to them, he had always sought out +some topic in which they could take an equal part--something +connected with the conduct of children, or the better ventilation +of the new school-house and chapel. But these new-comers did not +require him to select topics of conversation; they did not even +wait for him to finish those which he himself introduced. They +flitted from one end of the garden to the other with the +eagerness of two midshipmen on shore leave, and they found +something to enjoy in what seemed to the Governor the most +commonplace of things. The Zouave uniform of the sentry, the old +Spanish cannon converted into peaceful gate-posts, the aviary +with its screaming paroquets, the botanical station, and even the +ice-machine were all objects of delight. + +On the other hand, the interior of the famous palace, which had +been sent out complete from London, and which was wont to fill +the wives of the colonials with awe or to reduce them to +whispers, for some reason failed of its effect. But they said +they "loved" the large gold V. R.'s on the back of the +Councillors' chairs, and they exclaimed aloud over the red +leather despatch-boxes and the great seal of the colony, and the +mysterious envelopes marked "On her Majesty's service." + +"Isn't it too exciting, Florence?" demanded Mrs. Collier. "This +is the table where Sir Charles sits and writes letters' on her +Majesty's service,' and presses these buttons, and war-ships +spring up in perfect shoals. Oh, Robert," she sighed, "I do wish +you had been a Governor!" + +The young lady called Florence stood looking down into the great +arm-chair in front of the Governor's table. + +"May I?" she asked. She slid fearlessly in between the oak arms +of the chair and smiled about her. Afterwards Sir Charles +remembered her as she appeared at that moment with the red +leather of the chair behind her, with her gloved hands resting on +the carved oak, and her head on one side, smiling up at him. She +gazed with large eyes at the blue linen envelopes, the stiff +documents in red tape, the tray of black sand, and the goose- +quill pens. + +"I am now the Countess Zika," she announced; "no, I am Diana of +the Crossways, and I mean to discover a state secret and sell it +to the Daily Telegraph. Sir Charles," she demanded, "if I +press this electric button is war declared anywhere, or what +happens?" + +"That second button," said Sir Charles, after deliberate +scrutiny, "is the one which communicates with the pantry." + +The Governor would not consider their returning to the yacht for +luncheon. + +"You might decide to steam away as suddenly as you came," he +said, gallantly, "and I cannot take that chance. This is +Bachelor's Hall, so you must pardon my people if things do not go +very smoothly." He himself led them to the great guest-chamber, +where there had not been a guest for many years, and he noticed, +as though for the first time, that the halls through which they +passed were bare, and that the floor was littered with unpacked +boxes and gun-cases. He also observed for the first time that +maps of the colony, with the coffee-plantations and mahogany belt +marked in different inks, were not perhaps so decorative as +pictures and mirrors and family portraits. And he could have +wished that the native servants had not stared so admiringly at +the guests, nor directed each other in such aggressive whispers. +On those other occasions, when the wives of the Councillors came +to the semi-annual dinners, the native servants had seemed +adequate to all that was required of them. He recollected with a +flush that in the town these semi-annual dinners were described +as banquets. He wondered if to these visitors from the +outside world it was all equally provincial. + +But their enjoyment was apparently unfeigned and generous. It +was evident that they had known each other for many years, yet +they received every remark that any of them made as though it had +been pronounced by a new and interesting acquaintance. Sir +Charles found it rather difficult to keep up with the talk across +the table, they changed the subject so rapidly, and they half +spoke of so many things without waiting to explain. He could not +at once grasp the fact that people who had no other position in +the world save that of observers were speaking so authoritatively +of public men and public measures. He found, to his delight, +that for the first time in several years he was not presiding at +his own table, and that his guests seemed to feel no awe of him. + +"What's the use of a yacht nowadays?" Collier was saying--" +what's the use of a yacht, when you can go to sleep in a wagon- +lit at the Gare du Nord, and wake up at Vladivostok? And look at +the time it saves; eleven days to Gib, six to Port Said, and +fifteen to Colombo--there you are, only half-way around, and +you're already sixteen days behind the man in the wagon-lit." + +"But nobody wants to go to Vladivostok," said Miss Cameron, "or +anywhere else in a wagon-lit. But with a yacht you can explore +out-of-the-way places, and you meet new and interesting people. +We wouldn't have met Sir Charles if we had waited for a wagon- +lit." She bowed her head to the Governor, and he smiled with +gratitude. He had lost Mr. Collier somewhere in the Indian +Ocean, and he was glad she had brought them back to the Windless +Isles once more. + +"And again I repeat that the answer to that is, 'Why not? said +the March Hare,'" remarked Mr. Collier, determinedly. + +The answer, as an answer, did not strike Sir Charles as a very +good one. But the ladies seemed to comprehend, for Miss Cameron +said: "Did I tell you about meeting him at Oxford just a few +months before his death--at a children's tea-party? He was so +sweet and understanding with them! Two women tried to lionize +him, and he ran away and played with the children. I was +more glad to meet him than any one I can think of. Not as a +personage, you know, but because I felt grateful to him." + +"Yes, that way, distinctly," said Mrs. Collier. "I should have +felt that way towards Mrs. Ewing more than any one else." + +"I know, 'Jackanapes,'" remarked Collier, shortly; "a brutal +assault upon the feelings, I say." + +"Some one else said it before you, Robert," Mrs. Collier +commented, calmly. "Perhaps Sir Charles met him at Apia." They +all turned and looked at him. He wished he could say he had met +him at Apia. He did not quite see how they had made their way +from a children's tea party at Oxford to the South Pacific +islands, but he was anxious to join in somewhere with a clever +observation. But they never seemed to settle in one place +sufficiently long for him to recollect what he knew of it. He +hoped they would get around to the west coast of Africa in time. +He had been Governor of Sierra Leone for five years. + +His success that night at dinner on the yacht was far better. +The others seemed a little tired after the hours of sight-seeing +to which he had treated them, and they were content to listen. +In the absence of Mr. Clarges, who knew them word by word, he +felt free to tell his three stories of life at Sierra Leone. He +took his time in the telling, and could congratulate himself that +his efforts had never been more keenly appreciated. He felt that +he was holding his own. + +The night was still and warm, and while the men lingered below at +the table, the two women mounted to the deck and watched the +lights of the town as they vanished one by one and left the moon +in unchallenged possession of the harbor. For a long time Miss +Cameron stood silent, looking out across the bay at the shore and +the hills beyond. A fish splashed near them, and the sound of +oars rose from the mist that floated above the water, until they +were muffled in the distance. The palms along the shore +glistened like silver, and overhead the Southern Cross shone +white against a sky of purple. The silence deepened and +continued for so long a time that Mrs. Collier felt its +significance, and waited for the girl to end it. + +Miss Cameron raised her eyes to the stars and frowned. "I am not +surprised that he is content to stay here," she said. "Are you? +It is so beautiful, so wonderfully beautiful." + +For a moment Mrs. Collier made no answer. "Two years is a long +time, Florence," she said; "and he is all I have; he is not only +my only brother, he is the only living soul who is related to me. + +That makes it harder." + +The girl seemed to find some implied reproach in the speech, for +she turned and looked at her friend closely. "Do you feel it is +my fault, Alice?" she asked. + +The older woman shook her head. "How could it be your fault?" +she answered. "If you couldn't love him enough to marry him, you +couldn't, that's all. But that is no reason why he should have +hidden himself from all of us. Even if he could not stand being +near you, caring as he did, he need not have treated me so. +We have done all we can do, and Robert has been more than fine +about it. He and his agents have written to every consul and +business house in Central America, and I don't believe there is a +city that he hasn't visited. He has sent him money and letters +to every bank and to every post-office--" + +The girl raised her head quickly. + +"--but he never calls for either," Mrs. Collier continued, "for I +know that if he had read my letters he would have come home." + +The girl lifted her head as though she were about to speak, and +then turned and walked slowly away. After a few moments she +returned, and stood, with her hands resting on the rail, looking +down into the water. "I wrote him two letters," she said. In +the silence of the night her voice was unusually clear and +distinct. "I--you make me wonder--if they ever reached him." + +Mrs. Collier, with her eyes fixed upon the girl, rose slowly from +her chair and came towards her. She reached out her hand and +touched Miss Cameron on the arm. + +"Florence," she said, in a whisper, "have you--" + +The girl raised her head slowly, and lowered it again. "Yes," +she answered; "I told him to come back--to come back to me. +Alice," she cried, "I--I begged him to come back!" She tossed +her hands apart and again walked rapidly away, leaving the older +woman standing motionless. + +A moment later, when Sir Charles and Mr. Collier stepped out upon +the deck, they discovered the two women standing close together, +two white, ghostly figures in the moonlight, and as they advanced +towards them they saw Mrs. Collier take the girl for an instant +in her arms. + +Sir Charles was asking Miss Cameron how long she thought an +immigrant should be made to work for his freehold allotment, when +Mr. Collier and his wife rose at the same moment and departed on +separate errands. They met most mysteriously in the shadow of +the wheel-house. + +"What is it? Is anything wrong with Florence?" Collier asked, +anxiously. "Not homesick, is she?" + +Mrs. Collier put her hands on her husband's shoulders and shook +her head. + +"Wrong? No, thank Heaven! it's as right as right can be!" she +cried. "She's written to him to come back, but he's never +answered, and so--and now it's all right." + +Mr. Collier gazed blankly at his wife's upturned face. "Well, I +don't see that," he remonstrated. "What's the use of her being +in love with him now when he can't be found? What? Why didn't +she love him two years ago when he was where you could get at +him--at her house, for instance. He was there most of his time. +She would have saved a lot of trouble. However," he added, +energetically, "this makes it absolutely necessary to find that +young man and bring him to his senses. We'll search this place +for the next few days, and then we'll try the mainland again. I +think I'll offer a reward for him, and have it printed in +Spanish, and paste it up in all the plazas. We might add a line +in English, 'She has changed her mind.' That would bring him +home, wouldn't it?" + +"Don't be unfeeling, Robert," said Mrs. Collier. + +Her husband raised his eyes appealingly, and addressed himself to +the moon. "I ask you now," he complained, "is that fair to a man +who has spent six months on muleback trying to round up a +prodigal brother-in-law?" + +That same evening, after the ladies had gone below, Mr. Collier +asked Sir Charles to assist him in his search for his wife's +brother, and Sir Charles heartily promised his most active co- +operation. There were several Americans at work in the interior, +he said, as overseers on the coffee-plantations. It was possible +that the runaway might be among them. It was only that morning, +Sir Charles remembered, that an American had been at work +"repairing his lawn-mower," as he considerately expressed it. He +would send for him on the morrow. + +But on the morrow the slave of the lawn-mower was reported on the +list of prisoners as "missing," and Corporal Mallon was grieved, +but refused to consider himself responsible. Sir Charles himself +had allowed the vagrant unusual freedom, and the vagrant had +taken advantage of it, and probably escaped to the hills, or up +the river to the logwood camp. + +"Telegraph a description of him to Inspector Garrett," Sir +Charles directed, "and to the heads of all up stations. And when +he returns, bring him to me." + +So great was his zeal that Sir Charles further offered to join +Mr. Collier in his search among the outlying plantations; but Mr. +Collier preferred to work alone. He accordingly set out at once, +armed with letters to the different district inspectors, and in +his absence delegated to Sir Charles the pleasant duty of caring +for the wants of Miss Cameron and his wife. Sir Charles regarded +the latter as deserving of all sympathy, for Mr. Collier, in his +efforts to conceal the fact from the Governor that Florence +Cameron was responsible, or in any way concerned, in the +disappearance of the missing man, had been too mysterious. Sir +Charles was convinced that the fugitive had swindled his brother- +in-law and stolen his sister's jewels. + +The days which followed were to the Governor days and nights of +strange discoveries. He recognized that the missionaries +from the great outside world had invaded his shores and disturbed +his gods and temples. Their religion of progress and activity +filled him with doubt and unrest. + +"In this century," Mr. Collier had declared, "nothing can stand +still. It's the same with a corporation, or a country, or a man. + +We must either march ahead or fall out. We can't mark time. +What?" + +"Exactly--certainly not," Sir Charles had answered. But in his +heart he knew that he himself had been marking time under these +soft tropical skies while the world was pushing forward. The +thought had not disturbed him before. Now he felt guilty. He +conceived a sudden intolerance, if not contempt, for the little +village of whitewashed houses, for the rafts of mahogany and of +logwood that bumped against the pier-heads, for the sacks of +coffee piled high like barricades under the corrugated zinc sheds +along the wharf. Each season it had been his pride to note the +increase in these exports. The development of the resources of +his colony had been a work in which he had felt that the +Colonial Secretary took an immediate interest. He had believed +that he was one of the important wheels of the machinery which +moved the British Empire: and now, in a day, he was undeceived. +It was forced upon him that to the eyes of the outside world he +was only a greengrocer operating on a large scale; he provided +the British public with coffee for its breakfast, with drugs for +its stomach, and with strange woods for its dining-room furniture +and walking-sticks. He combated this ignominious +characterization of his position indignantly. The new arrivals +certainly gave him no hint that they considered him so lightly. +This thought greatly comforted him, for he felt that in some way +he was summoning to his aid all of his assets and resources to +meet an expert and final valuation. As he ranged them before him +he was disturbed and happy to find that the value he placed upon +them was the value they would have in the eyes of a young girl-- +not a girl of the shy, mother-obeying, man-worshipping English +type, but a girl such as Miss Cameron seemed to be, a girl who +could understand what you were trying to say before you said +it, who could take an interest in rates of exchange and preside +at a dinner table, who was charmingly feminine and clever, and +who was respectful of herself and of others. In fact, he +decided, with a flush, that Miss Cameron herself was the young +girl he had in his mind. + +"Why not?" he asked. + +The question came to him in his room, the sixth night of their +visit, and he strode over to the long pier-glass and stood +studying himself critically for the first time in years. He was +still a fine-looking, well-kept man. His hair was thin, but that +fact did not show; and his waist was lost, but riding and tennis +would set that right. He had means outside of his official +salary, and there was the title, such as it was. Lady Greville +the wife of the birthday knight sounded as well as Lady Greville +the marchioness. And Americans cared for these things. He +doubted whether this particular American would do so, but he was +adding up all he had to offer, and that was one of the assets. +He was sure she would not be content to remain mistress of +the Windless Isles. Nor, indeed, did he longer care to be master +there, now that he had inhaled this quick, stirring breath from +the outer world. He would resign, and return and mix with the +world again. He would enter Parliament; a man so well acquainted +as himself with the Gold Coast of Africa and with the trade of +the West Indies must always be of value in the Lower House. This +value would be recognized, no doubt, and he would become at first +an Under-Secretary for the Colonies, and then, in time, Colonial +Secretary and a cabinet minister. She would like that, he +thought. And after that place had been reached, all things were +possible. For years he had not dreamed such dreams--not since he +had been a clerk in the Foreign Office. They seemed just as +possible now as they had seemed real then, and just as near. He +felt it was all absolutely in his own hands. + +He descended to the dining-room with the air of a man who already +felt the cares of high responsibility upon his shoulders. His +head was erect and his chest thrown forward. He was ten +years younger; his manner was alert, assured, and gracious. As +he passed through the halls he was impatient of the familiar +settings of Government House; they seemed to him like the +furnishings of a hotel where he had paid his bill, and where his +luggage was lying strapped for departure in the hallway. + +In his library he saw on his table a number of papers lying open +waiting for his signature, the dog-tax among the others. He +smiled to remember how important it had seemed to him in the +past--in that past of indolence and easy content. Now he was on +fire to put this rekindled ambition to work, to tell the woman +who had lighted it that it was all from her and for her, that +without her he had existed, that now he had begun to live. + +They had never found him so delighful{sic} as he appeared that +night. He was like a man on the eve of a holiday. He made a +jest of his past efforts; he made them see, as he now saw it for +the first time, that side of the life of the Windless Isles which +was narrow and petty, even ridiculous. He talked of big men in a +big way; he criticised, and expounded, and advanced his own +theories of government and the proper control of an empire. + +Collier, who had returned from his unsuccessful search of the +plantations, shook his head. + +"It's a pity you are not in London now," he said, sincerely. +"They need some one there who has been on the spot. They can't +direct the colonies from what they know of them in Whitehall." + +Sir Charles fingered the dinner cloth nervously, and when he +spoke, fixed his eyes anxiously upon Miss Cameron. + +"Do you know," he said, "I have been thinking of doing that very +thing, of resigning my post here and going back, entering +Parliament, and all the rest of it." + +His declaration met with a unanimous chorus of delight. Miss +Cameron nodded her head with eager approval. + +"Yes, if I were a man, that is where I should wish to be," she +said, "at the heart of it. Why, whatever you say in the House of +Commons is heard all over the world the next morning." + +Sir Charles felt the blood tingle in his pulses. He had not been +so stirred in years. Her words ran to his head like wine. + +Mr. Collier raised his glass. + +"Here's to our next meeting," he said, "on the terrace of the +House of Commons." + +But Miss Cameron interrupted. "No; to the Colonial Secretary," +she amended. + +"Oh yes," they assented, rising, and so drank his health, smiling +down upon him with kind, friendly glances and good-will. + +"To the Colonial Secretary," they said. Sir Charles clasped the +arms of his chair tightly with his hands; his eyes were half +closed, and his lips pressed into a grim, confident smile. He +felt that a single word from her would make all that they +suggested possible. If she cared for such things, they were +hers; he had them to give; they were ready lying at her feet. He +knew that the power had always been with him, lying dormant in +his heart and brain. It had only waited for the touch of the +Princess to wake it into life. + +The American visitors were to sail for the mainland the next day, +but he had come to know them so well in the brief period of +their visit that he felt he dared speak to her that same night. +At least he could give her some word that would keep him in her +mind until they met again in London, or until she had considered +her answer. He could not expect her to answer at once. She +could take much time. What else had he to do now but to wait for +her answer? It was now all that made life. + +Collier and his wife had left the veranda and had crossed the +lawn towards the water's edge. The moonlight fell full upon them +with all the splendor of the tropics, and lit the night with a +brilliant, dazzling radiance. From where Miss Cameron sat on the +veranda in the shadow, Sir Charles could see only the white +outline of her figure and the indolent movement of her fan. +Collier had left his wife and was returning slowly towards the +step. Sir Charles felt that if he meant to speak he must speak +now, and quickly. He rose and placed himself beside her in the +shadow, and the girl turned her head inquiringly and looked up at +him. + +But on the instant the hush of the night was broken by a +sharp challenge, and the sound of men's voices raised in anger; +there was the noise of a struggle on the gravel, and from the +corner of the house the two sentries came running, dragging +between them a slight figure that fought and wrestled to be free. + +Sir Charles exclaimed with indignant impatience, and turning, +strode quickly to the head of the steps. + +"What does this mean?" he demanded. "What are you doing with +that man? Why did you bring him here?" + +As the soldiers straightened to attention, their prisoner ceased +to struggle, and stood with his head bent on his chest. His +sombrero was pulled down low across his forehead. + +"He was crawling through the bushes, Sir Charles," the soldier +panted, "watching that gentleman, sir,"--he nodded over his +shoulder towards Collier. "I challenged, and he jumped to run, +and we collared him. He resisted, Sir Charles." + +The mind of the Governor was concerned with other matters than +trespassers. + +"Well, take him to the barracks, then," he said. "Report to +me in the morning. That will do." + +The prisoner wheeled eagerly, without further show of resistance, +and the soldiers closed in on him on either side. But as the +three men moved away together, their faces, which had been in +shadow, were now turned towards Mr. Collier, who was advancing +leisurely, and with silent footsteps, across the grass. He met +them face to face, and as he did so the prisoner sprang back and +threw out his arms in front of him, with the gesture of a man who +entreats silence. Mr. Collier halted as though struck to stone, +and the two men confronted each other without moving. + +"Good God!" Mr. Collier whispered. + +He turned stiffly and slowly, as though in a trance, and beckoned +to his wife, who had followed him. + +"Alice!" he called. He stepped backwards towards her, and taking +her hand in one of his, drew her towards the prisoner. "Here he +is!" he said. + +They heard her cry "Henry!" with the fierceness of a call for +help, and saw her rush forward and stumble into the arms of +the prisoner, and their two heads were bent close together. + +Collier ran up the steps and explained breathlessly. + +"And now," he gasped, in conclusion, "what's to be done? What's +he arrested for? Is it bailable? What?" + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Sir Charles, miserably. "It is my +fault entirely. I assure you I had no idea. How could I? But I +should have known, I should have guessed it." He dismissed the +sentries with a gesture. "That will do," he said. "Return to +your posts." + +Mr. Collier laughed with relief. + +"Then it is not serious?" he asked. + +"He--he had no money, that was all," exclaimed Sir Charles. +"Serious? Certainly not. Upon my word, I'm sorry--" + +The young man had released himself from his sister's embrace, and +was coming towards them; and Sir Charles, eager to redeem +himself, advanced hurriedly to greet him. But the young man did +not see him; he was looking past him up the steps to where Miss +Cameron stood in the shadow. + +Sir Charles hesitated and drew back. The young man stopped at +the foot of the steps, and stood with his head raised, staring up +at the white figure of the girl, who came slowly forward. + +It was forced upon Sir Charles that in spite of the fact that the +young man before them had but just then been rescued from arrest, +that in spite of his mean garments and ragged sandals, something +about him--the glamour that surrounds the prodigal, or possibly +the moonlight--gave him an air of great dignity and distinction. + +As Miss Cameron descended the stairs, Sir Charles recognized for +the first time that the young man was remarkably handsome, and he +resented it. It hurt him, as did also the prodigal's youth and +his assured bearing. He felt a sudden sinking fear, a weakening +of all his vital forces, and he drew in his breath slowly and +deeply. But no one noticed him; they were looking at the tall +figure of the prodigal, standing with his hat at his hip and his +head thrown back, holding the girl with his eyes. + +Collier touched Sir Charles on the arm, and nodded his head +towards the library. "Come," he whispered, "let us old people +leave them together. They've a good deal to say." Sir Charles +obeyed in silence, and crossing the library to the great oak +chair, seated himself and leaned wearily on the table before him. +He picked up one of the goose quills and began separating it into +little pieces. Mr. Collier was pacing up and down, biting +excitedly on the end of his cigar. "Well, this has +certainly been a great night," he said. "And it is all due to +you, Sir Charles--all due to you. Yes, they have you to thank +for it." + +"They? " said Sir Charles. He knew that it had to come. He +wanted the man to strike quickly. + +"They? Yes--Florence Cameron and Henry," Mr. Collier answered. +"Henry went away because she wouldn't marry him. She didn't care +for him then, but afterwards she cared. Now they're reunited,-- +and so they're happy; and my wife is more than happy, and I won't +have to bother any more; and it's all right, and all through +you." + +"I am glad," said Sir Charles. There was a long pause, which the +men, each deep in his own thoughts, did not notice. + +"You will be leaving now, I suppose?" Sir Charles asked. He was +looking down, examining the broken pen in his hand. + +Mr. Collier stopped in his walk and considered. "Yes, I suppose +they will want to get back," he said. "I shall be sorry myself. +And you? What will you do?" + +Sir Charles started slightly. He had not yet thought what he +would do. His eyes wandered over the neglected work, which had +accumulated on the desk before him. Only an hour before he had +thought of it as petty and little, as something unworthy of his +energy. Since that time what change had taken place in him? + +For him everything had changed, he answered, but in him there had +been no change; and if this thing which the girl had brought into +his life had meant the best in life, it must always mean that. +She had been an inspiration; she must remain his spring of +action. Was he a slave, he asked himself, that he should rebel? +Was he a boy, that he could turn his love to aught but the +best account? He must remember her not as the woman who had +crushed his spirit, but as she who had helped him, who had lifted +him up to something better and finer. He would make sacrifice in +her name; it would be in her name that he would rise to high +places and accomplish much good. + +She would not know this, but he would know. + +He rose and brushed the papers away from him with an impatient +sweep of the hand. + +"I shall follow out the plan of which I spoke at dinner," he +answered. "I shall resign here, and return home and enter +Parliament." + +Mr. Collier laughed admiringly. "I love the way you English take +your share of public life," he said, "the way you spend +yourselves for your country, and give your brains, your lives, +everything you have--all for the empire." + +Through the open window Sir Charles saw Miss Cameron half hidden +by the vines of the veranda. The moonlight falling about +her transformed her into a figure which was ideal, mysterious, +and elusive, like a woman in a dream. He shook his head wearily. + +"For the empire?" he asked. + + + +THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER + +A SKETCH CONTAINING THREE POINTS OF VIEW + +What the Poet Laureate wrote. + + "There are girls in the Gold Reef City + There are mothers and children too! + And they cry 'Hurry up for pity!' + So what can a brave man do? + + "I suppose we were wrong, were mad men, + Still I think at the Judgment Day, + When God sifts the good from the bad men, + There'll be something more to say." + +What more the Lord Chief Justice found to say. + + +"In this case we know the immediate consequence of your crime. +It has been the loss of human life, it has been the +disturbance of public peace, it has been the creation of a +certain sense of distrust of public professions and of public +faith. . . . The sentence of this Court therefore is that, as to +you, Leander Starr Jameson, you be confined for a period of +fifteen months without hard labor; that you, Sir John Willoughby, +have ten months' imprisonment; and that you, etc., etc." + + London Times, July 29th. + + What the Hon. "Reggie" Blake thought about it. + + "H. M. HOLLOWAY PRISON, + "July 28th. + +"I am going to keep a diary while I am in prison, that is, if +they will let me. I never kept one before because I hadn't the +time; when I was home on leave there was too much going on to +bother about it, and when I was up country I always came back +after a day's riding so tired that I was too sleepy to write +anything. And now that I have the time, I won't have anything to +write about. I fancy that more things happened to me today +than are likely to happen again for the next eight months, so I +will make this day take up as much room in the diary as it can. +I am writing this on the back of the paper the Warder uses for +his official reports, while he is hunting up cells to put us in. +We came down on him rather unexpectedly and he is nervous. + +"Of course, I had prepared myself for this after a fashion, +but now I see that somehow I never really did think I would be in +here, and all my friends outside, and everything going on just +the same as though I wasn't alive somewhere. It's like telling +yourself that your horse can't possibly pull off a race, so that +you won't mind so much if he doesn't, but you always feel just as +bad when he comes in a loser. A man can't fool himself into +thinking one way when he is hoping the other. + +"But I am glad it is over, and settled. It was a great bore +not knowing your luck and having the thing hanging over your head +every morning when you woke up. Indeed it was quite a relief +when the counsel got all through arguing over those +proclamations, and the Chief Justice summed up, but I nearly +went to sleep when I found he was going all over it again to the +jury. I didn't understand about those proclamations myself and +I'll lay a fiver the jury didn't either. The Colonel said he +didn't. I couldn't keep my mind on what Russell was explaining +about, and I got to thinking how much old Justice Hawkins looked +like the counsel in 'Alice in Wonderland' when they tried the +knave of spades for stealing the tarts. He had just the same +sort of a beak and the same sort of a wig, and I wondered why he +had his wig powdered and the others didn't. Pollock's wig had a +hole in the top; you could see it when he bent over to take +notes. He was always taking notes. I don't believe he +understood about those proclamations either; he never seemed to +listen, anyway. + +"The Chief Justice certainly didn't love us very much, that's +sure; and he wasn't going to let anybody else love us either. I +felt quite the Christian Martyr when Sir Edward was speaking in +defence. He made it sound as though we were all a lot of Adelphi +heroes and ought to be promoted and have medals, but when +Lord Russell started in to read the Riot Act at us I began to +believe that hanging was too good for me. I'm sure I never knew +I was disturbing the peace of nations; it seems like such a large +order for a subaltern. + +"But the worst was when they made us stand up before all those +people to be sentenced. I must say I felt shaky about the knees +then, not because I was afraid of what was coming, but because it +was the first time I had ever been pointed out before people, and +made to feel ashamed. And having those girls there, too, looking +at one. That wasn't just fair to us. It made me feel about ten +years old, and I remembered how the Head Master used to call me +to his desk and say, 'Blake Senior, two pages of Horace and keep +in bounds for a week.' And then I heard our names and the +months, and my name and 'eight months' imprisonment,' and there +was a bustle and murmur and the tipstaves cried, 'Order in the +Court,' and the Judges stood up and shook out their big red +skirts as though they were shaking off the contamination of our +presence and rustled away, and I sat down, wondering how +long eight months was, and wishing they'd given me as much as +they gave Jameson. + +"They put us in a room together then, and our counsel said how +sorry they were, and shook hands, and went off to dinner and left +us. I thought they might have waited with us and been a little +late for dinner just that once; but no one waited except a lot of +costers outside whom we did not know. It was eight o'clock and +still quite light when we came out, and there was a line of four- +wheelers and a hansom ready for us. I'd been hoping they would +take us out by the Strand entrance, just because I'd like to have +seen it again, but they marched us instead through the main +quadrangle--a beastly, gloomy courtyard that echoed, and out, +into Carey Street--such a dirty, gloomy street. The costers and +clerks set up a sort of a cheer when we came out, and one of them +cried, 'God bless you, sir,' to the doctor, but I was sorry they +cheered. It seemed like kicking against the umpire's decision. +The Colonel and I got into a hansom together and we trotted +off into Chancery Lane and turned into Holborn. Most of the +shops were closed, and the streets looked empty, but there was a +lighted clock-face over Mooney's public-house, and the hands +stood at a quarter past eight. I didn't know where Holloway was, +and was hoping they would have to take us through some decent +streets to reach it; but we didn't see a part of the city that +meant anything to me, or that I would choose to travel through +again. + +"Neither of us talked, and I imagined that the people in the +streets knew we were going to prison, and I kept my eyes on the +enamel card on the back of the apron. I suppose I read, 'Two- +wheeled hackney carriage: if hired and discharged within the +four-mile limit, 1s.' at least a hundred times. I got more +sensible after a bit, and when we had turned into Gray's Inn Road +I looked up and saw a tram in front of us with 'Holloway Road and +King's X,' painted on the steps, and the Colonel saw it about the +same time I fancy, for we each looked at the other, and the +Colonel raised his eyebrows. It showed us that at least the +cabman knew where we were going. + +"'They might have taken us for a turn through the West End first, +I think,' the Colonel said. 'I'd like to have had a look around, +wouldn't you? This isn't a cheerful neighborhood, is it?' + +"There were a lot of children playing in St. Andrew's Gardens, +and a crowd of them ran out just as we passed, shrieking and +laughing over nothing, the way kiddies do, and that was about the +only pleasant sight in the ride. I had quite a turn when we came +to the New Hospital just beyond, for I thought it was Holloway, +and it came over me what eight months in such a place meant. I +believe if I hadn't pulled myself up sharp, I'd have jumped out +into the street and run away. It didn't last more than a few +seconds, but I don't want any more like them. I was afraid, +afraid--there's no use pretending it was anything else. I was in +a dumb, silly funk, and I turned sick inside and shook, as I have +seen a horse shake when he shies at nothing and sweats and +trembles down his sides. + +"During those few seconds it seemed to be more than I could +stand; I felt sure that I couldn't do it--that I'd go mad if they +tried to force me. The idea was so terrible--of not being master +over your own legs and arms, to have your flesh and blood and +what brains God gave you buried alive in stone walls as though +they were in a safe with a time-lock on the door set for eight +months ahead. There's nothing to be afraid of in a stone wall +really, but it's the idea of the thing--of not being free to move +about, especially to a chap that has always lived in the open as +I have, and has had men under him. It was no wonder I was in a +funk for a minute. I'll bet a fiver the others were, too, if +they'll only own up to it. I don't mean for long, but just when +the idea first laid hold of them. Anyway, it was a good lesson +to me, and if I catch myself thinking of it again I'll whistle, +or talk to myself out loud and think of something cheerful. And +I don't mean to be one of those chaps who spends his time in jail +counting the stones in his cell, or training spiders, or +measuring how many of his steps make a mile, for madness +lies that way. I mean to sit tight and think of all the good +times I've had, and go over them in my mind very slowly, so as to +make them last longer and remember who was there and what we +said, and the jokes and all that; I'll go over house-parties I +have been on, and the times I've had in the Riviera, and scouting +parties Dr. Jim led up country when we were taking Matabele Land. + +"They say that if you're good here they give you things to read +after a month or two, and then I can read up all those +instructive books that a fellow never does read until he's laid +up in bed. + +"But that's crowding ahead a bit; I must keep to what happened +to-day. We struck York Road at the back of the Great Western +Terminus, and I half hoped we might see some chap we knew coming +or going away: I would like to have waved my hand to him. It +would have been fun to have seen his surprise the next morning +when he read in the paper that he had been bowing to jail-birds, +and then I would like to have cheated the tipstaves out of just +one more friendly good-by. I wanted to say good-by to +somebody, but I really couldn't feel sorry to see the last of any +one of those we passed in the streets--they were such a dirty, +unhappy-looking lot, and the railroad wall ran on forever +apparently, and we might have been in a foreign country for all +we knew of it. There were just sooty gray brick tenements and +gas-works on one side, and the railroad cutting on the other, and +semaphores and telegraph wires overhead, and smoke and grime +everywhere, it looked exactly like the sort of street that should +lead to a prison, and it seemed a pity to take a smart hansom and +a good cob into it. + +"It was just a bit different from our last ride together--when we +rode through the night from Krugers-Dorp with hundreds of horses' +hoofs pounding on the soft veldt behind us, and the carbines +clanking against the stirrups as they swung on the sling belts. +We were being hunted then, harassed on either side, scurrying for +our lives like the Derby Dog in a race-track when every one hoots +him and no man steps out to help--we were sick for sleep, sick +for food, lashed by the rain, and we knew that we were +beaten; but we were free still, and under open skies with the +derricks of the Rand rising like gallows on our left, and +Johannesburg only fifteen miles away." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Lion and the Unicorn, by Davis + diff --git a/old/liuni10.zip b/old/liuni10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f53d32 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/liuni10.zip |
