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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/16959-8.txt b/16959-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a7ff34 --- /dev/null +++ b/16959-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4380 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Way Down East, by Joseph R. Grismer + +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: 'Way Down East + A Romance of New England Life + +Author: Joseph R. Grismer + +Release Date: October 28, 2005 [EBook #16959] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'WAY DOWN EAST *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Miss Lillian Gish as Anna Moore. D. W. Griffith's +Production. 'Way Down East.] + + + + + + +'WAY DOWN EAST + +A ROMANCE OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE + + + +BY + +JOSEPH R. GRISMER + + + + +Founded on the Very Successful Play of the + +Same Title by + +LOTTIE BLAIR PARKER + + + + + + ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM + D. W. GRIFFITH'S MAGNIFICENT + MOTION PICTURE PRODUCTION OF THE + ORIGINAL STORY AND STAGE PLAY + + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS -------------- NEW YORK + + + + +_Copyright, 1900_ + +_By Joseph R. Grismer_ + + +_'Way Down East_ + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. All Hail to the Conquering Hero. + + II. The Conquering Hero is Disposed to be Human. + + III. Containing Some Reflections and the Entrance + of Mephistopheles. + + IV. The Mock Marriage. + + V. A Little Glimpse of the Garden of Eden. + + VI. The Ways of Desolation. + + VII. Mother and Daughter. + + VIII. In Days of Waiting. + + IX. On the Threshold of Shelter. + + X. Anna and Sanderson Again Meet. + + XI. Rustic Hospitality. + + XII. Kate Brewster Holds Sanderson's Attention. + + XIII. The Quality of Mercy. + + XIV. The Village Gossip Sniffs Scandal. + + XV. David Confesses his Love. + + XVI. Alone in the Snow. + + XVII. The Night in the Snowstorm. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Miss Lillian Gish as Anna Moore. . . . _Frontispiece_ + +Martha Perkins and Maria Poole. + +Martha Perkins tells the story of Anna Moore's past life. + +Lillian Gish and Burr McIntosh. + + + + +WAY DOWN EAST + + +CHAPTER I. + +ALL HAIL TO THE CONQUERING HERO. + + + Methinks I feel this youth's perfections, + With an invisible and subtle stealth, + To creep in at mine eyes.--_Shakespeare_. + + +It had come at last, the day of days, for the two great American +universities; Harvard and Yale were going to play their annual game of +football and the railroad station of Springfield, Mass., momentarily +became more and more thronged with eager partisans of both sides of the +great athletic contest. + +All the morning trains from New York, New Haven, Boston and the smaller +towns had been pouring their loads into Springfield. Hampden Park was +a sea of eager faces. The weather was fine and the waiting for the +football game only added to the enjoyment--the appetizer before the +feast. + +The north side of the park was a crimson dotted mass full ten thousand +strong; the south side showed the same goodly number blue-bespeckled, +and equally confident. Little ripples of applause woke along the banks +as the familiar faces of old "grads" loomed up, then melted into the +vast throng. These, too, were men of international reputation who had +won their spurs in the great battles of life, and yet, who came back +year after year, to assist by applause in these mimic battles of their +_Alma Mater_. + +But the real inspiration to the contestants, were the softer, sweeter +faces scattered among the more rugged ones like flowers growing among +the grain--the smiles, the mantling glow of round young cheeks, the +clapping of little hands--these were the things that made broken +collarbones, scratched faces, and bruised limbs but so many honors to +be contended for, votive offerings to be laid at the little feet of +these fair ones. + +Mrs. Standish Tremont's party occupied, as usual, a prominent place on +the Harvard side. She was so great a factor in the social life at +Cambridge that no function could have been a complete success without +the stimulus of her presence. Personally, Mrs. Standish Tremont was +one of those women who never grow old; one would no more have thought +of hazarding a guess about her age than one would have made a similar +calculation about the Goddess of Liberty. She was perennially young, +perennially good-looking, and her entertainments were above reproach. +Some sour old "Grannies" in Boston, who had neither her wit, nor her +health, called her Venus Anno Domino, but they were jealous and cynical +and their testimony cannot be taken as reliable. + +What if she had been splitting gloves applauding college games since +the fathers of to-day's contestants had fought and struggled for +similar honors in this very field. She applauded with such vim, and +she gave such delightful dinners afterward, that for the glory of old +Harvard it is to be hoped she will continue to applaud and entertain +the grandsons of to-day's victors, even as she had their sires. + +It was said by the uncharitable that the secret of the lady's youth was +the fact that she always surrounded herself with young people, their +pleasure, interests, entertainments were hers; she never permitted +herself to be identified with older people. + +To-day, besides several young men who had been out of college for a +year or two, she had her husband's two nieces, the Misses Tremont, +young women well known in Boston's inner circles, her own daughter, a +Mrs. Endicott, a widow, and a very beautiful young girl whom she +introduced as "My cousin, Miss Moore." + +Miss Moore was the recipient of more attention than she could well +handle. Mrs. Tremont's cavaliers tried to inveigle her into betting +gloves and bon-bons; they reserved their wittiest replica for her, they +were her ardent allies in all the merry badinage with which their party +whiled away the time waiting for the game to begin. Miss Moore was +getting enough attention to turn the heads of three girls. + +At least, that was what her chaperone concluded as she skilfully +concealed her dissatisfaction with a radiant smile. She liked girls to +achieve social success when they were under her wing--it was the next +best thing to scoring success on her own account. But, it was quite a +different matter to invite a poor relation half out of charity, half +out of pity, and then have her outshine one's own daughter, and one's +nieces--the latter being her particular protégés--girls whom she hoped +to assist toward brilliant establishments. The thought was a +disquieting one, the men of their party had been making idiots of +themselves over the girl ever since they left Boston; it was all very +well to be kind to one's poor kin--but charity began at home when there +were girls who had been out three seasons! What was it, that made the +men lose their heads like so many sheep? She adjusted her lorgnette +and again took an inventory of the girl's appearance. It was eminently +satisfactory even when viewed from the critical standard of Mrs. +Standish Tremont. A delicately oval face, with low smooth brow, from +which the night-black hair rippled in softly crested waves and clung +about the temples in tiny circling ringlets, delicate as the faintest +shading of a crayon pencil. Heavily fringed lids that lent mysterious +depths to the great brown eyes that were sorrowful beyond their years. +A mouth made for kisses--a perfect Cupid's bow; in color, the red of +the pomegranate--such was Anna Moore, the great lady's young kinswoman, +who was getting her first glimpse of the world this autumn afternoon. + +"You were born to be a Harvard girl, Miss Moore, the crimson becomes +you go perfectly, that great bunch of Jacqueminots is just what you +need to bring out the color in your cheeks," said Arnold Lester, rather +an old beau, and one of Mrs. Endicott's devoted cavaliers. + +"Miss Moore is making her roses pale with envy," gallantly answered +Robert Maynard. He had not been able to take his eyes from the girl's +face since he met her. + +Anna looked down at her roses and smiled. Her gown and gloves were +black. The great fragrant bunch was the only suggestion of color that +she had worn for over a year. She was still in mourning for her +father, one of the first great financial magnates to go under in the +last Wall Street crash. His failure killed him, and the young daughter +and the invalid wife were left practically unprovided for. + +Mrs. Tremont could hardly conceal her annoyance. She had met her young +cousin for the first time the preceding summer and taking a fancy to +her; she exacted a promise from the girl's mother that Anna should pay +her a visit the following autumn. But she reckoned without the girl's +beauty and the havoc it would make with her plans. The discussion as +to the roses outvieing Anna's cheeks in color was abruptly terminated +by a great cheer that rolled simultaneously along both sides of the +field as the two teams entered the lists. Cheer upon cheer went up, +swelled and grew in volume, only to be taken up again and again, till +the sound became one vast echoing roar without apparent end or +beginning. + +From the moment the teams appeared, Anna Moore had no eyes or ears for +sights or sounds about her. Every muscle in her lithe young body was +strained to catch a glimpse of one familiar figure. She had little +difficulty in singling him out from the rest. He had stripped off his +sweater and stood with head well down, his great limbs tense, straining +for the word to spring. Anna's breath came quickly, as if she had been +running, the roses that he had sent her heaved with the tumult in her +breast. It seemed to her as if she must cry out with the delight of +seeing him again. + +"Look, Grace," said Mrs. Standish Tremont, to the younger of her +nieces, "there is Lennox Sanderson." + +"Play!" called the referee, and at the word the Harvard wedge shot +forward and crashed into the onrushing mass of blue-legged bodies. The +mimic war was on, and raged with all the excitement of real battle for +the next three-quarters of an hour; the center was pierced, the flanks +were turned, columns were formed and broken, weak spots were protected, +all the tactics of the science of arms was employed, and yet, neither +side could gain an advantage. + +The last minutes of the first half of the game were spent +desperately--Kenneth, the terrible line breaker of Yale, made two +famous charges, Lennox Sanderson, the famous flying half-back, secured +Harvard a temporary advantage by a magnificently supported run. +"Time!" called the referee, and the first half of the game was over. + +For fifteen minutes the combatants rested, then resumed their massing, +wedging and driving. Sanderson, who had not appeared to over-exert +himself during the first half of the game, gradually began to turn the +tide in favor of the crimson. After a decoy and a scrimmage, +Sanderson, with the ball wedged tightly under one arm, was seen flying +like a meteor, well covered by his supports. On he dashed at full +speed for the much-desired touch-line. The next minute he had reached +the goal and was buried under a pile of squirming bodies. + +Then did the Harvard hosts burst into one mighty and prolonged cheer +that made the air tremble. Sanderson was the hero of the hour. +Gray-haired old men jumped up and shouted his name with that of the +university. It was one mad pandemonium of excitement, till the game +was won, and the crowd woke up amid the "Rah, Rahs, Harvard, Sanderson." + +Anna's cheeks burned crimson. She clapped her hands to the final +destruction of her gloves. She patted the roses he had sent her. She +had never dreamed that life was so beautiful, so full of happiness. + +She saw him again for just a moment, before they left the park. He +came up to speak to them, with the sweat and grime of battle still upon +him, his hair flying in the breeze. The crowds gave way for the hero; +women gave him their brightest smiles; men involuntarily straightened +their shoulders in tribute to his inches. + +Years afterwards, it seemed to Anna, in looking back on the tragedy of +it all, that he had never looked so handsome, never been so absolutely +irresistible as on that autumn day when he had taken her hand and said: +"I couldn't help making that run with your eyes on me." + +"And we shall see you at tea, on Saturday?" asked Mrs. Tremont. + +"I shall be delighted," he answered: "thank you for persuading Miss +Moore to stay over for another week." Mrs. Tremont smiled, she could +smile if she were on the rack; but she assured herself that she was +done with poverty-stricken beauties till Grace and Maud were married, +at least. For years she had been planning a match between Grace and +Lennox Sanderson. + +Anna and Sanderson exchanged looks. Robert Maynard bit his lips and +turned away. He realized that the dearest wish of his life was beyond +reach of it forever. "Ah, well," he murmured to himself--"who could +have a chance against Lennox Sanderson?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE CONQUERING HERO IS DISPOSED TO BE HUMAN. + + + "Her lips are roses over-wash'd with dew, + Or like the purple of narcissus' flower; + No frost their fair, no wind doth waste their powers, + But by her breath her beauties do renew."--_Robert Greene_. + + +The dusk of an autumn afternoon was closing in on the well-filled +library of Mrs. Standish Tremont's Beacon street home. The last rays +of sunlight filtered softly through the rose silk curtains and blended +with the ruddy glow of fire-light. The atmosphere of this room was +more invitingly domestic than that of any other room in Mrs. Tremont's +somewhat bleakly luxurious home. + +Perhaps it was the row upon row of books in their scarlet leather +bindings, perhaps it was the fine old collection of Dutch masterpieces, +portraying homely scenes from Dutch life, that robbed the air of the +chilling effect of the more formal rooms; but, whatever was the reason, +the fact remained that the library was the room in which to dream +dreams, appreciate comfort and be content. + +At least so it seemed to Anna Moore, as she glanced from time to time +at the tiny French clock that silently ticked away the hours on the +high oaken mantel-piece. Anna had dressed for tea with more than usual +care on this particular Saturday afternoon. She wore a simply made +house gown of heavy white cloth, that hung in rich folds about her +exquisite figure, that might have seemed over-developed in a girl of +eighteen, were it not for the long slender throat and tapering waist of +more than usual slenderness. + +The dark hair was coiled high on top of the shapely head, and a few +tendrils strayed about her neck and brow. She wore no ornaments--not +even the simplest pin. + +She was curled up in a great leather chair, in front of the open fire, +playing with a white angora kitten, who climbed upon her shoulder and +generally conducted himself like a white ball of animated yarn. It was +too bad that there was no painter at hand to transfer to canvas so +lovely a picture as this girl in her white frock made, sitting by the +firelight in this mellow old room, playing with a white imp of a +kitten. It would have made an ideal study in white and scarlet. + +How comfortable it all was; the book-lined walls, the repose and +dignity of this beautiful home, with its corps of well-trained servants +waiting to minister to one's lightest wants. The secure and sheltered +feeling that it gave appealed strongly to the girl, who but a little +while ago had enjoyed similar surroundings in her father's house. + +And then, there had been that awful day when her father's wealth had +vanished into air like a burst bubble, and he had come home with a +white drawn face and gone to bed, never again to rise from it. + +Anna did not mind the privations that followed on her own account, but +they were pitifully hard on her invalid mother, who had been used to +every comfort all her life. + +After they had left New York, they had taken a little cottage in +Waltham, Mass., and it was here that Mrs. Standish Tremont had come to +call on her relatives in their grief and do what she could toward +lightening their burdens. Anna was worn out with the constant care of +her mother, and would only consent to go away for a rest, because the +doctor told her that her health was surely breaking under the strain, +and that if she did not go, there would be two invalids instead of one. + +It was at Mrs. Tremont's that she had met Lennox Sanderson, and from +the first, both seemed to be under the influence of some subtle spell +that drew them together blindly, and without the consent of their +wills. Mrs. Tremont, who viewed the growing attraction of these two +young people with well-concealed alarm, watched every opportunity to +prevent their enjoying each other's society. It irritated her that one +of the wealthiest and most influential men in Harvard should take such +a fancy to her penniless young relative, instead of to Grace Tremont, +whom she had selected for his wife. + +There were few things that Mrs. Tremont enjoyed so much as arranging +romances in everyday life. + +"Pardon me, Miss Moore," said the butler, standing at her elbow, "but +there has been a telephone message from Mrs. Tremont, saying that she +and Mrs. Endicott have been detained, and will you be kind enough to +explain this to Mr. Sanderson." Anna never knew what the message cost +Mrs. Tremont. + +A moment later, Sanderson's card was sent up; Anna rose to meet him +with swiftly beating heart. + +"What perfect luck," he said. "How do I happen to find you alone? +Usually you have a regiment of people about you." + +"Cousin Frances has just telephoned that she has been detained, and I +suppose I am to entertain you till her return." + +"I shall be sufficiently entertained if I may have the pleasure of +looking at you." + +"Till dinner time? You could never stand it." She laughed. + +"It would be a pleasure till eternity." + +"At any rate," said Anna, "I am not going to put you to the test. If +you will be good enough to ring for tea, I will give you a cup." + +The butler brought in the tea. Anna lighted the spirit lamp with +pretty deftness, and proceeded to make tea. + +"I could not have taken this, even from your hands last week, +Anna--pardon me, Miss Moore." + +"And why not? Had you been taking pledges not to drink tea?" + +"It seems to me as if I've been living on rare beef and whole wheat +bread ever since I can remember----" + +"Oh, yes, I forgot about your being in training for the game, but you +did so magnificently, you ought not to mind it. Why, you made Harvard +win the game. We were all so proud of you." + +"All! I don't care about 'all.' Were you proud of me?" + +"Of course I was," she answered with the loveliest blush. + +"Then it is amply repaid." + +"Let me give you another cup of tea." + +"No, thanks, I don't care about any more, but if you will let me talk +to you about something-- See here, Anna. Yes, I mean Anna. What +nonsense for us to attempt to keep up the Miss Moore and Mr. Sanderson +business. I used to scoff at love at first sight and say it was all +the idle fancy of the poets. Then I met you and remained to pray. +You've turned my world topsy-turvy. I can't think without you, and yet +it would be folly to tell this to my Governor, and ask his consent to +our marriage. He wants me to finish college, take the usual trip +around the world and then go into the firm. Besides, he wants me to +eventually marry a cousin of mine--a girl with a lot of money and with +about as much heart as would fit on the end of a pin." + +She had followed this speech with almost painful attention. She bit +her lips till they were but a compressed line of coral. At last she +found words to say: + +"We must not talk of these things, Mr. Sanderson. I have to go back +and care for my mother. She is an invalid and needs all my attention. +Bedsides, we are poor; desperately poor. I am here in your world, only +through the kindness of my cousin, Mrs. Tremont." + +"It was your world till a year ago, Anna. I know all about your +father's failure, and how nobly you have done your part since then, and +it kills me to think of you, who ought to have everything, spending +your life--your youth--in that stupid little Waltham, doing the work of +a housemaid." + +"I am very glad to do my part," she answered him bravely, but her eyes +were full of unshed tears. + +"Anna, dearest, listen to me." He crossed over to where she sat and +took her hand. "Can't you have a little faith in me and do what I am +going to ask you? There is the situation exactly. My father won't +consent to our marriage, so there is no use trying to persuade him. +And here you are--a little girl who needs some one to take care of you +and help you take care of your mother, give her all the things that +mean so much to an invalid. Now, all this can be done, darling, if you +will only have faith in me. Marry me now secretly, before you go back +to Waltham. No one need know. And then the governor can be talked +around in time. My allowance will be ample to give you and your mother +all you need. Can't you see, darling?" + +The color faded from her cheeks. She looked at him with eyes as +startled as a surprised fawn. + +"O, Lennox, I would be afraid to do that." + +"You would not be afraid, Anna, if you loved me." + +It was so tempting to the weary young soul, who had already begun to +sink under the accumulated burdens of the past year, not for herself, +but for the sick mother, who complained unceasingly of the changed +conditions of their lives. The care and attention would mean so much +to her--and yet, what right had she to encourage this man to go against +the wishes of his father, to take advantage of his love for her? But +she was grateful to him, and there was a wealth of tenderness in the +eyes that she turned toward him. + +"No, Lennox, I appreciate your generosity, but I do not think it would +be wise for either of us." + +"Don't talk to me of generosity. Good God, Anna, can't you realize +what this separation means to me? I have no heart to go on with my +life away from you. If you are going to throw me over, I shall cut +college and go away." + +She loved him all the better for his impatience. + +"Anna," he said--the two dark heads were close together, the madness of +the impulse was too much for both. Their lips met in a first long +kiss. The man was to have his way. The kiss proved a more eloquent +argument than all his pleading. + +"Say you will, Anna." + +"Yes," she whispered. + +And then they heard the street door open and close, and the voices of +Mrs. Tremont and her daughter, as they made their way to the library. +And the two young souls, who hovered on the brink of heaven, were +obliged to listen to the latest gossip of fashionable Boston. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +CONTAINING SOME REFLECTIONS AND THE ENTRANCE OF MEPHISTOPHELES. + + + "Not all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, + Nor florid prose, nor horrid lies of rhyme, + Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime."--_Byron_. + + +Lennox Sanderson was stretched in his window-seat with a book, of +which, however, he knew nothing--not even the title--his mind being +occupied by other thoughts than reading at that particular time. + +Did he dare do it? The audacity of the proceeding was sufficient to +make the iron will of even Lennox Sanderson waver. And yet, to lose +her! Such a contingency was not to be considered. His mind flew +backward and forward like a shuttle, he turned the leaves of his book; +he smoked, but no light came from within or without. + +He glanced about the familiar objects in his sitting-room as one +unconsciously does when the mind is on the rack of anxiety, as if to +seek council from the mute things that make up so large a part of our +daily lives. + +It was an ideal sitting-room for a college student, the luxury of the +appointments absolutely subservient to taste and simplicity. Heavy red +curtains divided the sitting-room from the bedroom beyond, and imparted +a degree of genial warmth to the atmosphere. Russian candlesticks of +highly polished brass stood about on the mantel-piece and book shelves. +Above the high oak wainscoting the walls were covered with dark red +paper, against which background brown photographs of famous paintings +showed to excellent advantage. They were reproductions of Botticelli, +Rembrant, Franz Hals and Velasquez hung with artistic irregularity. +Above the mantel-piece were curious old weapons, swords, matchetes, +flintlocks and carbines. A helmet and breastplate filled the space +between the two windows. Some dozen or more of pipe racks held the +young collegian's famous collection of pipes that told the history of +smoking from the introduction during the reign of Elizabeth, down to +the present day. + +In taking a mental inventory of his household goods, Sanderson's eyes +fell on the photograph of a woman on the mantel-piece. He frowned. +What right had she there, when his mind was full of another? He walked +over to the picture and threw it into the fire. It was not the first +picture to know a similar fate after occupying that place of honor. + +The blackened edges of the picture were whirling up the chimney, when +Sanderson's attention was arrested by a knock. + +"Come in," he called, and a young man of about his own age entered. +Without being in the least ill-looking, there was something repellent +about the new comer. His eyes were shifty and too close together to be +trustworthy. Otherwise no fault could be found with his appearance. + +"Well, Langdon, how are you?" his host asked, but there was no warmth +in his greeting. + +"As well as a poor devil like me ever is," began Langdon obsequiously. +He sighed, looked about the comfortable room and finished with: "Lucky +dog." + +Sanderson stood on no ceremony with his guest, who was a thoroughly +unscrupulous young man. Once or twice Langdon had helped Sanderson out +of scrapes that would have sent him home from college without his +degree, had they come to the ears of the faculty. In return for this +assistance, Sanderson had lent him large sums of money, which the owner +entertained no hopes of recovering. Sanderson tried to balance matters +by treating Langdon with scant ceremony when they were alone. + +"Well, old man," began his host, "I do not flatter myself that I owe +this call to any personal charm. You dropped in to ease a little +financial embarrassment by the request of a loan--am I not right?" + +"Right, as usual, Sandy, though I'd hardly call it a loan. You know I +was put to a devil of a lot of trouble about that Newton affair, and it +cost money to secure a shut mouth." + +Sanderson frowned. "This is the fifth time I have had the pleasure of +settling for that Newton affair, Langdon. It seems to have become a +sort of continuous performance." + +Langdon winced. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, Langdon. You owe me two thousand now, not +counting that poker debt. We'll call it square if you'll attend to a +little matter for me and I'll give you an extra thou. to make it worth +your while." + +"You know I am always delighted to help you, Sandy." + +"When I make it worth your while." + +"Put it that way if you wish." + +"Do you think that for once in your life you could look less like the +devil than you are naturally, and act the role of parson?" + +"I might if I associate with you long enough. Saintly company might +change my expression." + +"You won't have time to try. You've got to have your clerical look in +good working order by Friday. Incidently you are to marry me to the +prettiest girl in Massachusetts and keep your mouth closed." + +As if to end the discussion, Sanderson strode over to his desk and +wrote out a check for a thousand dollars. He came back, waving it in +the air to dry the ink. + +"Perhaps you will condescend to explain," Langdon said, as he pocketed +the check. + +"Explanations are always bores, my dear boy. There is a little girl +who feels obliged to insist on formalities, not too many. She'll think +your acting as the parson the best joke in the world, but it would not +do to chaff her about it." + +"Oh, I see," and Langdon's laugh was not pleasant. + +"Exactly. You will have everything ready--white choker, black coat and +all the rest of it, and now, my dear boy, you've got to excuse me as +I've got a lot of work on hand." + +They shook hands and Langdon's footsteps were soon echoing down the +corridor. + +The foul insinuation that Sanderson had just made about Anna rankled in +his mind. He went to the sideboard and poured himself out a good stiff +drink. After that, his conscience did not trouble him. + +The work on account of which he excused himself from Langdon's society, +was apparently not of the most pressing order, for Sanderson almost +immediately started for Boston, turning his steps towards Mrs. Standish +Tremont's. + +"Mrs. Tremont was not at home," the man announced at the door, "and +Mrs. Endicott was confined to her room with a bad headache. Should he +take his card to Miss Moore?" + +Sanderson assented, feeling that fate was with him. + +"My darling," he said, as Anna came in a moment later, and folded her +close in a long embrace. She was paler than when he had last seen her +and there were dark rings under her eyes that hinted at long night +vigils. + +"Lennox," she said, "do not think me weak, but I am terribly +frightened. It does not seem as if we were doing the right thing by +our friends." + +"Goosey girl," he said, kissing her, "who was it that said no marriage +ever suited all parties unconcerned?" + +She laughed. "I am thinking more of you Lennox, than of myself. +Suppose your father should not forgive you, cut you off without a cent, +and you should have to drudge all your life with mother and me on your +hands! Don't you think you would wish we had never met, or, at least, +that I had thought of these things?" + +"Suppose the sky should fall, or the sun should go out, or that I could +stop loving you, or any of the impossible things that could not happen +once in a million years. Aren't you ashamed of yourself to doubt me in +this way? Answer me, miss," he said with mock ferocity. + +For answer she laid her cheek against his.--"I am so happy, dear, that +I am almost afraid." + +He pressed her tenderly. "And now, darling, for the +conspiracy--Cupid's conspiracy. You write to your mother to-night and +say that you will be home on Wednesday because you will. Then tell +Mrs. Tremont that you have had a wire from her saying you must go home +Friday (I'll see that you _do_ receive such a telegram), and leave +Friday morning by the 9:40. I will keep out of the way, because the +entire Tremont contingent will doubtless see you off. I will then meet +you at one of the stations near Boston. I can't tell you which, till I +hear from my friend, the Reverend John Langdon. He will have +everything arranged." + +She looked at him with dilating eyes, her cheeks blanched with fear. + +"Anna," he said, almost roughly, "if you have no confidence in me, I +will go out of your life forever." + +"Yes, yes, I believe in you," she said. "It isn't that, but it is the +first thing I have ever kept from mother, and I would feel so much more +comfortable if she knew." + +"Baby. An' so de ittle baby must tell its muvver ev'yting," he +mimicked her, till she felt ashamed of her good impulse--an impulse +which if she had yielded to, it would have saved her from all the +bitterness she was to know. + +"And so you will do as I ask you, darling?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you promise?" + +"Yes," and they sealed the bargain with a kiss. + +"Dearest, I must be going. It would never do for Mrs. Tremont to see +us together. I should forget and call you pet names, and then you +would be sent supperless to bed, like the little girls in the story +books." + +"I suppose you must go," she said, regretfully. + +"It will not be for long," and with another kiss he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE MOCK MARRIAGE. + + + "Thus grief still treads upon the heel of pleasure, + Married in haste, we may repent at leisure."--_Congreve_. + + +It seemed to Anna when Friday came, that human experience had nothing +further to offer in the way of mental anguish and suspense. She had +thrashed out the question of her secret marriage to Sanderson till her +brain refused to work further, and there was in her mind only dread and +a haunting sense of loss. If she had only herself to consider, she +would not have hesitated a moment. But Sanderson, his father, and her +own mother were all involved. + +Was she doing right by her mother? At times, the advantage to the +invalid accruing from this marriage seemed manifold. Again it seemed +to Anna but a senseless piece of folly, prompted by her own selfish +love for Sanderson. And so the days wore on until the eventful Friday +came, and Anna said good-bye to Mrs. Standish Tremont with livid cheeks +and tearful eyes. + +"And do you feel so badly about going away, my dear?" said the great +lady, looking at those visible signs of distress and feeling not a +little flattered by her young cousin's show of affection. "We must +have you down soon again," and she patted Anna's cheek and hurried her +into the car, for Mrs. Tremont had a horror of scenes and signals +warned her that Anna was on the verge of tears. + +The locomotive whistled, the cars gave a jolt, and Anna Moore was +launched on her tragic fate. She never knew how the time passed after +leaving Mrs. Tremont, till Sanderson joined her at the next station. +She felt as if her will power had deserted her, and she was dumbly +obeying the behests of some unseen relentless force. She looked at the +strange faces about her, hopelessly. Perhaps it was not too +late---perhaps some kind motherly woman would tell her if she were +doing right. But they all looked so strange and forbidding, and while +she turned the question over and over in her mind, the car stopped, the +brakeman called the station and Lennox Sanderson got on. + +She turned to him in her utter perplexity, forgetting he was the cause +of it. + +"My darling, how pale you are. Are you ill?" + +"Not ill, but----" He would not let her finish, but reassured her by +the tenderest of looks, the warmest of hand clasps, and the terrified +girl began to lose the hunted feeling that she had. + +They rode on for fully an hour. Sanderson was perfectly +self-possessed. He might have been married every day in the year, for +any difference it made in his demeanor. He was perfectly composed, +laughed and chatted as wittily as ever. In time, Anna partook of his +mood and laughed back. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her +mind. At last they stopped at a little station called Whiteford. An +old-fashioned carriage was waiting for them; they entered it and the +driver, whipped up his horses. A drive of a half mile brought them to +an ideal white cottage surrounded by porches and hidden in a tangle of +vines. The door was opened for them by the Rev. John Langdon in person. +He seemed a preternaturally grave young man to Anna and his clerical +attire was above reproach. Any misgivings one might have had regarding +him on the score of his youth, were more than counterbalanced by his +almost supernatural gravity. + +He apologized for the absence of his wife, saying she had been called +away suddenly, owing to the illness of her mother. His housekeeper and +gardener would act as witnesses. Sanderson hastily took Anna to one +side and said: "I forgot to tell you, darling, that I am going to be +married by my two first names only, George Lennox. It is just the +same, but if the Sanderson got into any of those country marriage +license papers, I should be afraid the governor would hear of +it--penalty of having a great name, you know," he concluded gayly. +"Thought I had better mention it, as it would not do to have you +surprised over your husband's name." + +Again the feeling of dread completely over-powered her. She looked at +him with her great sorrowful eyes, as a trapped animal will sometimes +look at its captor, but she could not speak. Some terrible blight +seemed to have overgrown her brain, depriving her of speech and +willpower. + +The witnesses entered. Anna was too agitated to notice that the Rev. +John Langdon's housekeeper was a very singular looking young woman for +her position. Her hair was conspicuously dark at the roots and +conspicuously light on the ends. Her face was hard and when she smiled +her mouth, assumed a wolfish expression. She was loudly dressed and +wore a profusion of jewelry--altogether a most remarkable looking woman +for the place she occupied. + +The gardener had the appearance of having been suddenly wakened before +nature had had her full quota of sleep. He was blear-eyed and his +breath was more redolent of liquor than one might have expected in the +gardener of a parsonage. + +The room in which the ceremony was to take place was the ordinary +cottage parlor, with crochet work on the chairs, and a profusion of +vases and bric-a-brac on the tables. The Rev. John Langdon requested +Anna and Sanderson to stand by a little marble table from which the +housekeeper brushed a profusion of knick-knacks. There was no Bible. +Anna was the first to notice the omission. This seemed to deprive the +young clergyman of his dignity. He looked confused, blushed, and +turning to the housekeeper told her to fetch the Bible. This seemed to +appeal to the housekeeper's sense of humor. She burst out laughing and +said something about looking for a needle in a haystack. Sanderson +turned on her furiously, and she left the room, looking sour, and +muttering indignantly. She returned, after what seemed an interminable +space of time, and the ceremony proceeded. + +Anna did not recognize her own voice as she answered the responses. +Sanderson's was clear and ringing; his tones never faltered. When the +time came to put the ring on her finger, Anna's hand trembled so +violently that the ring fell to the floor and rolled away. Sanderson's +face turned pale. It seemed to him like a providential dispensation. +For some minutes, the assembled company joined in the hunt for the +ring. It was found at length by the yellow-haired housekeeper, who +returned it with her most wolfish grin. + +"Trust Bertha Harris to find things!" said the clergyman. + +The ceremony proceeded without further incident. The final words were +pronounced and Anna sank into a chair, relieved that it was over, +whether it was for better or for worse. + +Sanderson hurried her into the carriage before the clergyman and the +witnesses could offer their congratulations. He pulled her away from +the yellow-haired housekeeper, who would have smothered her in an +embrace, and they departed without the customary handshake from the +officiating clergyman. + +"You were not very cordial, dear," she said, as they rolled along +through the early winter landscape. + +"Confound them all. I hated to see them near you"--and then, in answer +to her questioning gaze--"because I love you so much, darling. I hate +to see anyone touch you." + +The trees were bare; the fields stretched away brown and flat, like the +folds of a shroud, and the sun was veiled by lowering clouds of gray. +It was not a cheerful day for a wedding. + +"Lennox, did you remember that this is Friday? And I have on a black +dress." + +"And now that Mrs. Lennox has settled the question of to wed or not to +wed, by wedding--behold, she is worrying herself about her frock and +the color of it, and the day of the week and everything else. Was +there ever such a dear little goose?" He pinched her cheek, and +she--she smiled up at him, her fears allayed. + +"And why don't you ask where we are going, least curious of women?" + +"I forgot; indeed I did." + +"We are going to the White Rose Inn. Ideal name for a place in which +to spend one's honeymoon, isn't it?" + +"Any place would be ideal with you Lennie," and she slipped her little +hand into his ruggeder palm. + +At last the White Rose Inn was sighted; it was one of those modern +hostelries, built on an old English model. The windows were muslined, +the rooms were wainscoted in oak, the furniture was heavy and +cumbersome. Anna was delighted with everything she saw. Sanderson had +had their sitting-room filled with crimson roses, they were everywhere; +banked on the mantelpiece, on the tables and window-sills. Their +perfume was to Anna like the loving embrace of an old friend. +Jacqueminots had been so closely associated with her acquaintance with +Sanderson, in after years she could never endure their perfume and +their scarlet petals unnerved her, as the sight of blood does some +women. + +A trim English maid came to assist "Mrs. Lennox," to unpack her things. +Lunch was waiting in the sitting-room. Sanderson gave minute orders +about the icing of his own particular brand of champagne, which he had +had sent from Boston. + +Anna had recovered her good spirits. It seemed "such a jolly lark," as +her husband said. + +"Sweetheart, your happiness," he said, and raised his glass to hers. +Her eyes sparkled like the champagne. The honeymoon at the White Rose +Tavern had begun very merrily. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A LITTLE GLIMPSE OF THE GARDEN OF EDEN. + + + "The moon--the moon, so silver and cold, + Her fickle temper has oft been told, + Now shady--now bright and sunny-- + But of all the lunar things that change, + The one that shows most fickle and strange, + And takes the most eccentric range + Is the moon--so called--of honey."--_Hood_. + + +"My dear, will you kindly pour me a second cup of coffee? Not because +I really want it, you know, but entirely for the aesthetic pleasure of +seeing your pretty little hands pattering about the cups." + +Lennox Sanderson, in a crimson velvet smoking jacket, was regarding +Anna with the most undisguised admiration from the other side of the +round table, that held their breakfast,--their first honeymoon +breakfast, as Anna supposed it to be. + +"Anything to please my husband," she answered with a flitting blush. + +"Your husband? Ah, say it again; it sounds awfully good from you." + +"So you don't really care for any more coffee, but just want to see my +hands among the cups. How appreciative you are!" And there was a +mischievous twinkle in her eye as she began with great elaboration the +pantomimic representation of pouring a cup of coffee, adding sugar and +cream; and concluded by handing the empty cup to Sanderson. "It would +be such a pity to waste the coffee, Lennie, when you only wanted to see +my hands." + +"If I am not going to have the coffee, I insist on both the hands," he +said, taking them and kissing them repeatedly. + +"I suppose I'll have to give it to you on those terms," and she +proceeded to fill the cup in earnest this time. + +"Let me see. How is it that you like it? One lump of sugar and quite +a bit of cream? And tea perfectly clear with nothing at all and toast +very crisp and dry. Dear me, how do women ever remember all their +husband's likes and dislikes? It's worse than learning a new +multiplication table over again," and the most adorable pucker +contracted her pretty brows. + +"And yet, see how beautifully widows manage it, even taking the +thirty-third degree and here you are, complaining before you are +initiated, and kindly remember, Mrs. Lennox Sanderson, if I take but +one lump of sugar in my coffee, there are other ways of sweetening it." +Presumably he got it sweetened to his satisfaction, for the proprietor +of the "White Rose," who attended personally to the wants of "Mr. and +Mrs. Lennox" had to cough three times before he found it discreet to +enter and inquire if everything was satisfactory. + +He bowed three times like a disjointed foot rule and then retired to +charge up the wear and tear to his backbone under the head of "special +attendance." + +"H-m-m!" sighed Sanderson, as the door closed on the bowing form of the +proprietor, "that fellow's presence reminds me that we are not +absolutely alone in the world, and you had almost convinced me that we +were, darling, and that by special Providence, this grim old earth had +been turned into a second Garden of Eden for our benefit. Aren't you +going to kiss me and make me forget in earnest, this time?" + +"I'm sure, Lennie, I infinitely prefer the 'White Rose Inn' with you, +to the Garden of Paradise with Adam." She not only granted the +request, but added an extra one for interest. + +"You'll make me horribly vain, Anna, if you persist in preferring me to +Adam; but then I dare say, Eve would have preferred him and Paradise to +me and the 'White Rose.'" + +"But, then, Eve's taste lacked discrimination. She had to take Adam or +become the first girl bachelor. With me there might have been +alternatives." + +"There might have been others, to speak vulgarly?" + +"Exactly." + +"By Jove, Anna, I don't see how you ever did come to care for me!" The +laughter died out of his eyes, his face grew prefer naturally grave, he +strode over to the window and looked out on the desolate landscape. +For the first time he realized the gravity of his offense. His crime +against this girl, who had been guilty of nothing but loving him too +deeply stood out, stripped of its trappings of sentiment, in all its +foul selfishness. He would right the wrong, confess to her; but no, he +dare not, she was not the kind of woman to condone such an offense. + +"Needles and pins, needles and pins, when a man's married his trouble +begins," quoted Anna gayly, slipping up behind him and, putting her +arms about his neck; "one would think the old nursery ballad was true, +to look at you, Lennox Sanderson. I never saw such a married-man +expression before in my life. You wanted to know why I fell in love +with you. I could not help it, because you are YOU." + +She nestled her head in his shoulder and he forgot his scruples in the +sorcery of her presence. + +"Darling," he said; taking her in his arms, with perhaps the most +genuine affection he ever felt for her, "I wish we could spend our +lives here in this quiet little place, and that there were no +troublesome relations or outside world demanding us." + +"So do I, dear," she answered, "but it could not last; we are too +perfectly happy." + +Neither spoke for some minutes. At that time he loved her as deeply as +it was possible for him to love anyone. Again the impulse came to tell +her, beg for forgiveness and make reparation. He was holding her in +his arms, considering. A moment more, and he would have given way to +the only unselfish impulse in his life. But again the knock, followed +by the discreet cough of the proprietor. And when he entered to tell +them that the horses were ready for their drive, "Mrs. Lennox" hastened +to put on her jacket and "Mr. Lennox" thanked his stars that he had not +spoken. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE WAYS OF DESOLATION. + + + "Oh! colder than the wind that freezes + Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd, + Is that congealing pang which seizes + The trusting bosom when betray'd."--_Moore_. + + +Four months had elapsed since the honeymoon at the White Rose Tavern, +and Anna was living at Waltham with her mother who grew more fretful +and complaining every day. The marriage was still the secret of Anna +and Sanderson. The honeymoon at the White Rose had been prolonged to a +week, but no suspicion had entered the minds of Mrs. Moore or Mrs. +Standish Tremont, thanks to Sanderson's skill in sending fictitious +telegrams, aided by so skilled an accomplice as the "Rev." John Langdon. + +Week after week, Anna had yielded to Sanderson's entreaties and kept +her marriage a secret from her mother. At first he had sent her +remittances of money with frequent regularity, but, lately, they had +begun to fall off, his letters were less frequent, shorter and more +reserved in tone, and the burden of it all was crushing the youth out +of the girl and breaking her spirit. She had grown to look like some +great sorrowful-eyed Madonna, and her beauty had in it more of the +spiritual quality of an angel than of a woman. As the spring came on, +and the days grew longer she looked like one on whom the hand of death +had been laid. + +Her friends noticed this, but not her mother, who was so engrossed with +her own privations, that she had no time or inclination for anything +else. + +"Anna, Anna, to think of our coming to this!" she would wail a dozen +times a day--or, "Anna, I can't stand it another minute," and she would +burst into paroxysms of grief, from which nothing could arouse her, and +utterly exhausted by her own emotions, which were chiefly regret and +self-pity, she would sink off to sleep. Anna had no difficulty in +accounting to her mother for the extra comforts with which Lennox +Sanderson's money supplied them. Mrs. Standish Tremont sometimes sent +checks and Mrs. Moore never bothered about the source, so long as the +luxuries were forthcoming. + +"Is there no more Kumyss, Anna?" she asked one day. + +"No, mother." + +"Then why did you neglect to order it?" + +The girl's face grew red. "There was no money to pay for it, mother. +I am so sorry." + +"And does Frances Tremont neglect us in this way? When we were both +girls, it was quite the other way. My father practically adopted +Frances Tremont. She was married from our house. But you see, Anna, +she made a better marriage than I. Oh, why was your father so +reckless? I warned him not to speculate in the rash way he was +accustomed to doing, but he would never take my advice. If he had, we +would not be as we are now." And again the poor lady was overcome with +her own sorrows. + +It was not Mrs. Tremont's check that had bought the last Kumyss. In +fact, Mrs. Tremont, after the manner of rich relations, troubled her +head but little about her poor ones. Sanderson had sent no money for +nearly a month, and Anna would have died sooner than have asked for it. +He had been to Waltham twice to see Anna, and once she had gone to meet +him at the White Rose Tavern. Mrs. Moore, wrapped in gloom at the loss +of her own luxury, had no interest in the young man who came down from +Boston to call on her daughter. + +"You met him at Cousin Frances's, did you say? I don't see how you can +ask him here to this abominable little house. A girl should have good +surroundings, Anna. Nothing detracts from a girl's beauty so much as +cheap surroundings. Oh, my dear, if you had only been settled in life +before all this happened, I would not complain." And, as usual, there +were more tears. + +But the wailings of her mother, over departed luxuries, and the poverty +of her surroundings were the lightest of Anna's griefs. At their last +meeting--she had gone to him in response to his request--Sanderson's +manner had struck dumb terror into the heart of the girl who had +sacrificed so much at his bidding. She had been very pale. The strain +of facing the terrible position in which she found herself, coupled +with her own failing health, had robbed her of the beautiful color he +had always so frankly admired. Her eyes were big and hollow looking, +and the deep black circles about them only added to her unearthly +appearance. There were drawn lines of pain about the mouth, that +robbed the Cupid's bow of half its beauty. + +"My God, Anna!" he had said to her impatiently. "A man might as well +try to love a corpse as a woman who looks like that." He led her over +to a mirror, that she might see her wasted charms. There was no need +for her to look. She knew well enough, what was reflected there. + +"You have no right to let yourself get like this. The only thing a +woman has is her looks, and it is a crime if she throws them away +worrying and fretting." + +"But Lennox," she answered, desperately, "I have told you how matters +stand with me, and mother knows nothing--suspects nothing." And the +girl broke down and wept as if her heart would break. + +"Anna, for Heaven's sake, do stop crying. I hate a scene worse than +anything in the world. When a woman cries, it means but one thing, and +that is that the man must give in--and in this particular instance I +can't give in. It would ruin me with the governor to acknowledge our +marriage." + +The girl's tears froze at his brutal words. She looked about dazed and +hopeless. + +Sanderson was standing by the window, drumming a tattoo on the pane. +He wheeled about, and said slowly, as if he were feeling his way: + +"Anna, suppose I give you a sum of money and you go away till all this +business is over. You can tell your mother or not; just as you see +fit. As far as I am concerned, it would be impossible for me to +acknowledge our marriage as I have said before. If the governor found +it out, he would cut me off without a cent." + +"But, Lennox, I cannot leave my mother. Her health grows worse daily, +and it would kill her." + +"Then take her with you. She's got to know, sooner or later, I +suppose. Now, don't be a stupid little girl, and everything will turn +out well for us." He patted her cheek, but it was done perfunctorily, +and Anna knew there was no use in making a further appeal to him. + +"Well, my dear," he said, "I have got to take that 4.30 train back to +Cambridge. Here is something for you, and let me know just as soon as +you make up your mind, when you intend to go and where. There is no +use in your staying in Waltham till those old cats begin to talk." + +He put a roll of bills in her hand, kissed her and was gone, and Anna +turned her tottering steps homeward, sick at heart. She must tell her +mother, and the shock of it might kill her. She pressed her hands over +her burning eyes to blot out the hideous picture. Could cruel fate +offer bitterer dregs to young lips? + +She stopped at the postoffice for mail. There was nothing but the +daily paper. She took it mechanically and turned into the little side +street on which they lived. + +The old family servant, who still lived with them, met her at the door, +and told her that her mother had been sleeping quietly for more than an +hour. + +"Good gracious, Miss Anna, but you do look ill. Just step into the +parlor and sit down for a minute, and I'll make you a cup of tea." + +Anna suffered herself to be led into the little room, smiling +gratefully at the old servant as she assisted her to remove her hat and +jacket. She took up the paper mechanically and glanced through its +contents. Her eyes fell on the following item, which she followed with +hypnotic interest: "Harvard Student in Disgrace!" was the headline. + +"John Langdon, a Harvard student, was arrested on the complaint of +Bertha Harris, a young woman, well known in Boston's gas-light circles, +yesterday evening. They had been dining together at a well-known chop +house, when the woman, who appeared to be slightly under the influence +of liquor, suddenly arose and declared that Langdon was trying to rob +her. + +"Both were arrested on the charge of creating a disturbance. At the +State Street Police Station the woman said that Langdon had performed a +mock marriage for a fellow student some four months ago. She had acted +as a witness, for which service she was to receive $50. The money had +never been paid. She stated further that the young man, whom Langdon +is alleged to have married, is the son of a wealthy Boston banker, and +the young woman who was thus deceived is a young relative of one of +Boston's social leaders. + +"Later Bertha Harris withdrew her charges, saying she was intoxicated +when she made them. The affair has created a profound sensation." + +"Mock marriage!" The words whirled before the girl's eyes in letters +of fire. Bertha Harris! Yes, that was the name. It had struck her at +the time when Sanderson dropped the ring. Langdon had said "Bertha +Harris has found it." + +The light of her reason seemed to be going out. From the blackness +that engulfed her, the words "mock marriage" rang in her ear like the +cry of the drowning. + +"God, oh God!" she called and the pent up agony of her wrecked life was +in the cry. + +They found her senseless a moment later, staring up at the ceiling with +glassy eyes, the crumpled paper crushed in her hand. + +"She is dead," wailed her mother. The old servant wasted no time in +words. She lifted up the fragile form and laid it tenderly on the bed. +Then she raised the window and called to the first passerby to run for +the nearest doctor. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. + + + A mother's love--how sweet the name! + What is a mother's love? + --A noble, pure and tender flame, + Enkindled from above, + To bless a heart of earthly mould; + The warmest love that can grow cold; + That is a mother's love.--_James Montgomery_. + + +It took all the medical skill of which the doctor was capable, and the +best part of twenty-four hours of hard work to rouse Anna from the +death-like lethargy into which she had fallen. Toward morning she +opened her eyes and turning to her mother, said appealingly: + +"Mother, you believe I am innocent, don't you?" + +"Certainly, darling," Mrs. Moore replied, without knowing in the least +to what her daughter referred. The doctor, who was present at the +time, turned away. He knew more than the mother. It was one of those +tragedies of everyday life that meant for the woman the fleeing away +from old associations, like a guilty thing, long months of hiding, the +facing of death; and, if death was not to be, the beginning of life +over again branded with shame. And all this bitter injustice because +she had loved much and had faith in the man she loved. The doctor had +faced tragedies before in his professional life, but never had he felt +his duty so heavily laid upon him as when he begged Mrs. Moore for a +few minutes' private conversation in the gray dawn of that early +morning. + +He felt that the life of his patient depended on his preparing her +mother for the worst. The girl, he knew, would probably confess all +during her convalescence, and the mother must be prepared, so that the +first burst of anguish would have expended itself before the girl +should have a chance to pour out the story of her misfortune. + +"Tell me, doctor, is she going to die?" the mother asked, as she closed +the door of the little sitting-room and they were alone. The poor lady +had not thought of her own misfortunes since Anna's illness. The +selfishness of the woman of the world was completely obliterated by the +anxiety of the mother. + +"No, she will not die, Mrs. Moore; that is, if you are able to control +your feelings sufficiently, after I have made a most distressing +disclosure, to give her the love and sympathy that only you can." + +She looked at him with troubled eyes. "Why, doctor, what do you mean? +My daughter has always had my love and sympathy, and if of late I have +appeared somewhat engrossed by my own troubles, I assure you my +daughter is not likely to suffer from it during her illness." + +"Her life depends on how you receive what I am going to tell you. +Should you upbraid her with her misfortune, or fail to stand by her as +only a mother can, I shall not answer for the consequences." Then he +told her Anna's secret. + +The stricken woman did not cry out in her anguish, nor swoon away. She +raised a feebly protesting hand, as if to ward off a cruel blow; then +burying her face in her arms, she cowed before him. Not a sob shook +the frail, wasted figure. It was as if this most terrible misfortune +had dried up the well-springs of grief and robbed her of the blessed +gift of tears. The woman who in one brief year had lost everything +that life held dear to her--husband, home, wealth, position--everything +but this one child, could not believe the terrible sentence that had +been pronounced against her. Her Anna--her little girl! Why, she was +only a child! Oh, no, it could not be true. She never, never would +believe it. + +Her brain whirled and seemed to stop. It refused to grasp so hideous a +proposition. The doctor was momentarily at a loss to know how to deal +with this terrible dry-eyed grief. The set look in her eyes, the +terrible calm of her demeanor were so much more alarming than the +wildest outpourings of grief would, have been. + +"And this seizure, Mrs. Moore. Tell me exactly how it was brought +about," thinking to turn the current of her thoughts even for a moment. + +She told him how Anna had gone out in the early afternoon, without +saying where she was going, and how she had returned to the house about +five o'clock, looking so pale and ill, that Hannah, an old family +servant who still lived with them, noticed it and begged her to sit +down while she went to fetch her a cup of tea. The maid left her +sitting by the fire-place reading a paper, and the next thing was the +terrible cry that brought them both. They found her lying on the floor +unconscious with the crumpled newspaper in her hand. + +"See, here is the paper now, doctor," and he stooped to pick up the +crumpled sheet from which the girl had read her death warrant. +Together they went over it in the hope that it might furnish some clue. +Mrs. Moore's eyes were the first to fall on the fatal paragraph. She +read it through, then showed it to the doctor. + +"That is undoubtedly the cause of the seizure," said the doctor. + +"Oh, my poor, poor darling," moaned the mother, and the first tears +fell. + +In the first bitterness of regret, Mrs. Moore imagined that in +selfishly abandoning herself to her own grief, she must have neglected +her daughter, and her remorse knew no bounds. Again and again she +bitterly denounced herself for giving way to sorrow that now seemed +light and trivial, compared to the black hopelessness of the present. + +Anna's mind wandered in her delirium, and she would talk of her +marriage and beg Sanderson to let her tell her mother all. Then she +would fancy that she was again with Mrs. Tremont and she would go +through the pros and cons of the whole affair. Should she marry him +secretly, as he wished? Yes, it would be better for poor mama, who +needed so many comforts, but was it right? And then the passionate +appeal to Sanderson. Couldn't he realize her position?---- + +"Yes, darling, it is all right. Mother understands," the heartbroken +woman would repeat over and over again, but the sick girl could not +hear. + +And so the days wore on, till at last Anna's wandering mind turned back +to earth, and again took up the burden of living. There was nothing +for her to tell her mother. In her delirium she had told all, and the +mother was prepared to bravely face the worst for her daughter's sake. + +The terrible blow brought mother and daughter closer together than they +had been for years. In their prosperity, the young girl had been busy +with her governess and instructors, while her mother had made a fine +art of her invalidism and spent the greater part of her time at health +resorts, baths and spas. + +By mutual consent, they decided that it was better not to attempt to +seek redress from Sanderson. Anna's letters, written during her +convalescence, had remained unanswered, and any effort to force him, +either by persuasion or process of law, to right the terrible wrong he +had done, was equally repulsive to both mother and daughter. + +Mrs. Standish Tremont was also equally out of the question, as a court +of final appeal. She had been so piqued with Anna for interfering with +her most cherished plans regarding Sanderson and Grace Tremont, that +Anna knew well enough that there would only be further humiliation in +seeking mercy from that quarter. + + +So mother and daughter prepared to face the inevitable alone. To this +end, Mrs. Moore sold the last of her jewelry. She had kept it, +thinking that Anna would perhaps marry some day and appreciate the +heirlooms; but such a contingent was no longer to be considered, and +the jewelry, and the last of the family silver, were sent to be sold, +together with every bit of furniture with which they could dispense, +and mother and daughter left the little cottage in Waltham, and went to +the town of Belden, New Hampshire,--a place so inconceivably remote, +that there was little chance of any of their former friends being able +to trace them, even if they should desire to do so. + +As the summer days grew shorter, and the hour of Anna's ordeal grew +near, Mrs. Moore had but one prayer in her heart, and that was that her +life might be spared till her child's troubles were over. Since Anna's +illness in the early spring, she had utterly disregarded herself. No +complaint was heard to pass her lips. Her time was spent in one +unselfish effort to make her daughter's life less painful. But the +strain of it was telling, and she knew that life with her was but the +question of weeks, perhaps days. As her physical grasp grew weaker, +her mental hold increased proportionately, and she determined to live +till she had either closed her child's eyes in death, or left her with +something for which to struggle, as she herself was now struggling. + +But the poor mother's last wish was not to be granted. In the +beginning of September, just when the earth was full of golden promise +of autumn, she felt herself going. She felt the icy hand of death at +her heart and the grim destroyer whispered in her ear: "Make ready." +Oh, the anguish of going just then, when she was needed so sorely by +her deceived and deserted child. + +"Anna, darling," she called feebly, "I cannot be with you; I am +going--I have prayed to stay, but it was not to be. Your child will +comfort you, darling. There is nothing like a child's love, Anna, to +make a woman forget old sorrows--kiss me, dear----" She was gone. + +And so Anna was to go down into the valley of the shadow of death +alone, and among strangers. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +IN DAYS OF WAITING. + + + "Bent o'er her babe, her eyes dissolved in dew, + The big drops mingled with the milk he drew + Gave the sad presage of his future years-- + The child of misery, baptized in tears."--_John Langhorne_. + + +The days of Anna's waiting lagged. She lost all count of time and +season. Each day was painfully like its predecessor, a period of time +to be gone through with, as best she could. She realized after her +mother's death what the gentle companionship had been to her, what a +prop the frail mother had become in her hour of need. For a great +change had come over the querulous invalid with the beginning of her +daughter's troubles, the grievances of the woman of the world were +forgotten in the anxiety of the mother, and never by look or word did +she chide her daughter, or make her affliction anything but easier to +bear by her gentle presence. + +Anna, sunk in the stupor of her own grief, did not realize the comfort +of her mother's presence until it was too late. She shrank from the +strangers with whom they made their little home--a middle aged +shopkeeper and his wife, who had been glad enough to rent them two +unused rooms in their house at a low figure. They were not lacking in +sympathy for young "Mrs. Lennox," but their disposition to ask +questions made Anna shun them as she would have an infection. After +her mother's death, they tried harder than ever to be kind to her, but +the listless girl, who spent her days gazing at nothing, was hardly +aware of their comings and goings. + +"If you would only try to eat a bit, my dear," said the corpulent Mrs. +Smith, bustling into Anna's room. "And land sakes, don't take on so. +There you set in that chair all day long. Just rouse yourself, my +dear; there ain't no trouble, however bad, but could be wuss." + +To this dismal philosophy, Anna would return a wan smile, while she +felt her heart almost break within her. + +"And, Mrs. Lennox, don't mind what I say to you. I am old enough to be +your grandmother, but if you have quarreled with any one, don't be too +spunky now about making up. Spunk is all right in its place, but its +place ain't at the bedside of a young woman who's got to face the trial +of her life. If you have quarreled with any one--your--your husband, +say, now is the time to make it up, since your ma is gone." + +The old woman looked at her with a strange mixture of motherliness and +curiosity. As she said to her husband a dozen times a day, "her heart +just ached for that pore young thing upstairs," but this tender +solicitude did not prevent her ears from aching, at the same time, to +hear Anna's story. + +"Thank you very much for your kind interest, Mrs. Smith; but really, +you must let me judge of my own affairs." There was a dignity about +the girl that brooked no further interference. + +"That's right, my dear, and I wouldn't have thought of suggesting it, +but you do seem that young--well, I must be going down to put the +potatoes on for dinner. If you want anything, just ring your bell." + +There was not the least resentment cherished by the corpulent Mrs. +Smith. The girl's answer confirmed her opinion from the first. "She +would not send for her husband, because there wasn't no husband to send +for." She mentioned her convictions to her husband and added she meant +to write to sister Eliza that very night. + +"Sister Eliza has an uncommon light hand with babies and that pore +young thing'll be hard pushed to pay the doctor, let alone a nurse." + +These essentially feminine details regarding the talents of Sister +Eliza, did not especially interest Smith, who continued his favorite +occupation--or rather, joint occupations, of whittling and +expectorating. Nevertheless, the letter to Sister Eliza was written, +and not a minute sooner than was necessary; for, the little soul that +was to bring with it forgetfulness for all the agony through which its +mother had lived during that awful year, came very soon after the +arrival of Sister Eliza. + +Anna had felt in those days of waiting that she could never again be +happy; that for her "finis" had been written by the fates. But, as she +lay with the dark-haired baby on her breast, she found herself planning +for the little girl's future; even happy in the building of those +heavenly air-castles that young mothers never weary of building. She +felt the necessity of growing strong so that she could work early and +late, for baby must have everything, even if mother went without. +Sometimes a fleeting likeness to Sanderson would flit across the +child's face, and a spasm of pain would clutch at Anna's heart, but she +would forget it next moment in one of baby's most heavenly smiles. + +She could think of him now without a shudder; even a lingering remnant +of tenderness would flare up in her heart when she remembered he was +the baby's father. Perhaps he would see the child sometime, and her +sweet baby ways would plead to him more eloquently than could all her +words to right the wrong he had done, and so the days slipped by and +the little mother was happy, after the long drawn out days of waiting +and misery. She would sing the baby to sleep in her low contralto +voice, and feel that it mattered not whether the world smiled or +frowned on her, so long as baby approved. + +But this blessed state of affairs was not long to continue. Anna, as +she grew stronger, felt the necessity of seeking employment, but to +this the baby proved a formidable obstacle. No one would give a young +woman, hampered with a child, work. She would come back to the baby at +night worn out in mind and body, after a day of fruitless searching. +These long trips of the little mother, with the consequent long absence +and exhaustion on her return, did not improve the little one's health, +and almost before Anna realized it was ailing, the baby sickened and +died. It was her cruelest blow. For the child's sake she had taken up +her interest in life, made plans; and was ready to work her fingers to +the bone, but it was not to be and with the first falling of the clods +on the little coffin, Anna felt the last ray of hope extinguished from +her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +ON THE THRESHOLD OF SHELTER. + + + Alas! To-day I would give everything + To see a friend's face, or hear voice + That had the slightest tone of comfort in it.--_Longfellow_. + + +About two miles from the town of Belden, N. H., stands an irregular farm +house that looks more like two dwellings forced to pass as one. One part +of it is all gables, and tile, and chimney corners, and antiquity, and +the other is square, slated, and of the newest cut, outside and in. + +The farm is the property of Squire Amasa Bartlett, a good type of the big +man of the small place. He was a contented and would have been a happy +man--or at least thought he would have been--if the dearest wish of his +life could have been realized. It was that his son, Dave, and his wife's +niece, Kate, should marry. Kate was an orphan and the Squire's ward. +She owned the adjoining land, that was farmed with the Squire's as one. +So that Cupid would not have come to them empty handed; but the young +people appeared to have little interest in each other apart from that +cousinly affection which young people who are brought together would in +all probability feel for each other. + +Dave was a handsome, dark-eyed young man, whose silence passed with some +for sulkiness; but he was not sulky--only deep and thoughtful, and +perhaps a little more devoid of levity than becomes a young man of +twenty-five. He had great force of character--you might have seen that +from his grave brow, and felt it in his simple speech and manner, that +was absolutely free from affectation. + +Dave was his mother's idol, but his utter lack of worldliness, his +inability to drive a shrewd bargain sometimes annoyed his father, who was +a just, but an undeniably hard man, who demanded a hundred cents for his +dollar every day in the year. + +Kate, whom the family circle hoped would one day be David's wife, was all +blonde hair, blue eyes and high spirits, so that the little blind god, +aided by the Squire's strategy, propinquity and the universal law of the +attraction of opposites, should have had no difficulty in making these +young people fall in love--but Destiny, apparently, decided to make them +exceptions to all rules. + +Kate was fond of going to Boston to visit a schoolmate, and the Squire, +who looked with small favor on these visits, was disposed to attribute +them to Dave's lack of ardor. + +"Confound it, Looizy," he would say to his wife, "if Dave made it more +lively for Kate she would not be fer flying off to Boston every time she +got a chance." + +And Mrs. Bartlett had no answer. Having a woman's doubtful gift of +intuition, she was afraid that the wedding would never take place, and +also having a woman's tact she never annoyed her husband by saying so. + +Kate, who had been in Boston for two months, was coming home about the +middle of July, and a little flutter of preparation went all over the +farm. + +Dave had said at breakfast that he regretted not being able to go to +Wakefield to meet Kate, but that he would be busy in the north field all +day. Hi Holler, the Bartlett chore boy, had been commissioned to go in +his stead, and Hi's toilet, in consequence, had occupied most of the +morning. + +Mrs. Bartlett was churning in the shadow of the wide porch, the Squire +was mending a horse collar with wax thread, and fussing about the heat +and the slowness of Hi Holler, who was always punctually fifteen minutes +late for everything. + +"Confound it, Looizy, what's keeping that boy; the train'll get in before +he's started. Here you, Hi, what's keeping you?" + +The delinquent stood in the doorway, his broad face rippling with smiles; +he had spent time on his toilet, but he felt that the result justified it. + +His high collar had already begun to succumb to the day, and the labor +involved in greasing his boots, which were much in evidence, owing to the +brevity of the white duck trousers that needed but one or two more +washings, with the accompanying process of shrinking, to convert them +into knickerbockers. Bear's grease had turned his ordinary curling brown +hair into a damp, shining mass that dripped in tiny rills, from time to +time, down on his coat collar, but Hi was happy. Beau Brummel, at the +height of his sartorial fame, never achieved a more self-satisfying +toilet. + +The Squire adjusted his spectacles. "What are you dressing up like that +on a week day for, Hi? Off with you now; and if you ain't in time for +them cars you'll catch 'Hail Columbia' when you get back." + +"Looizy," said the Squire, as soon as Hi was out of hearing, "why didn't +Dave go after Katie? Yes, I know about the hay. Hay is hay, but it +ought not to come first in a man's affections." + +"You'd better let 'em alone, Amasy; if they're going to marry they will +without any help from us; love affairs don't seem to prosper much, when +old folks interfere." + +"Looizy, it's my opinion that Dave's too shy to make up to women folks. +I don't think he'll even get up the courage to ask Kate to marry him." + +"Well, I never saw the man yet who was too bashful to propose to the +right woman." And a great deal of decision went into the churning that +accompanied her words. + +"Mebbe so, mebbe so," said the Squire. He felt that the vagaries of the +affections was too deep a subject for him. "Anyhow, Looizy, I don't want +no old maids and bachelors potterin' round this farm getting cranky +notions in their heads. Look at the professor. Why, a good woman would +have taken the nonsense out of him years ago." + +Mrs. Bartlett did not have to go far to look at the professor. He was +flying about her front garden at that very moment in an apparently +distracted state, crouching, springing, hiding back of bushes and +reappearing with the startling swiftness of magic. The Bartletts were +quite used to these antics on the part of their well-paying summer +boarder. He was chasing butterflies--a manifestly insane proceeding, of +course, but if a man could afford to pay ten dollars a week for summer +board in the State of New Hampshire, he could afford to chase butterflies. + +Professor Sterling was an old young man who had given up his life to +entomology; his collection of butterflies was more vital to him than any +living issue; the Bartletts regarded him as a mild order of lunatic, +whose madness might have taken a more dangerous form than making up long +names for every-day common bugs. + +"Look at him, just look at him, Looizy, sweating himself a day like this, +over a common dusty miller. It beats all, and with his money." + +"Well, it's a harmless amusement," said the kindly Louisa, "there's a +heap more harmful things that a man might chase than butterflies." + +The stillness of the midsummer day was broken by the sound of far-off +singing. It came in full-toned volume across the fields, the high +soaring of women's voices blended with the deeper harmony of men. + +"What's that?" said the Squire testily, looking in the direction of the +strawberry beds, from whence the singing came. + +"It's only the berry-pickers, father," said David, coming through the +field gate and going over to the well for a drink. + +"I wish they'd work more and sing less," said the Squire. "All this +singing business is too picturesque for me." + +"They've about finished, father. I came for the money to pay them off." + +It was characteristic of Dave to uphold the rights of the berry-pickers. +They were all friends of his, young men and women who sang in the village +choir and who went out among their neighbors' berry patches in summer, +and earned a little extra money in picking the fruit. The village +thought only the more of them for their thrift, and their singing at the +close of their work was generally regarded in the light of a favor. +Zeke, Sam, Cynthia and Amelia who formed the quartet, had all fine voices +and no social function for miles around Wakefield was complete without +their music. + +The Squire said no more about the berry-pickers. Dave handed him a paper +on which the time of each berry-picker and the amount of his or her wage +was marked opposite. The Squire took it and adjusted his glasses with a +certain grimness--he was honest to the core, but few things came harder +to him than parting with money. + +Dave and his mother at the churn exchanged a friendly wink. The +extracting of coin from the head of the house was no easy process. +Mother and son both enjoyed its accomplishment through an outside agency. +It was too hard a process in the home circle to be at all agreeable. + +While the Squire was wrestling with his arithmetic, Dave noticed a +strange girl pass by the outer gate, pause, go on and then return. He +looked at her with deep interest. She was so pale and tired-looking it +seemed as if she had not strength enough left to walk to the house. Her +long lashes rested wearily on the pale cheeks. She lifted them with an +effort, and Dave found himself staring eagerly in a pair of great, +sorrowful brown eyes. + +The girl came on unsteadily up the walk to where the Squire sat, thumbing +his account to the berry-pickers. "Well, girl, who are you?" he said, +not as unkindly as the words might imply. + +The sound of her own voice, as she tried to answer his question, was like +the far-off droning of a river. It did not seem to belong to her. "My +name is Moore--Anna Moore--and I thought--I hoped perhaps you might be +good enough to give me work." The strange faces spun about her eyes. +She tottered and would have fallen if Dave had not caught her. + +Dave, the silent, the slow of action, the cool-headed, seemed suddenly +bereft of his chilling serenity. "Here, mother, a chair; father, some +water, quick." He carried the swooning girl to the shadow of the porch +and fanned her tenderly with his broad-brimmed straw hat. + +The old people hastened to do his bidding. Dave, excited and issuing +orders in that tone, was too unusual to be passed over lightly. + +"What were you going to say, Miss Moore?" said the Squire as soon as the +brown eyes opened. + +"I thought, perhaps, I might find something to do here--I'm looking for +work." + +"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Bartlett, smoothing the dark curls, "you are +not fit to stand, let alone work." + +"You could not earn your salt," was the Squire's less sympathetic way of +expressing the same sentiment. "Where is your home?" + +"I have no home." She looked at them desperately, her dark eyes +appealing to one and the other, as if they were the jury that held her +life in the balance. Only one pair of eyes seemed to hold out any hope. + +"If you would only try me I could soon prove to you that I am not +worthless." Unconsciously she held out her hand in entreaty. + +"Here we are, here we are, all off for Boston!" The voice was Hi's. He +was just turning in at the field gate with Kate beside him. Kate, a +ravishing vision, in pink muslin; a smiling, contented vision of happy, +rosy girlhood, coming back to the home-nest, where a thousand welcomes +awaited her. + +"Hello, every one!" she said, running in and kissing them in turn, "how +nice it is to be home." + +They forgot the homeless stranger and her pleading for shelter in their +glad welcome to the daughter of the house. She had shrunk back into the +shadow. She had never felt the desolation, the utter loneliness of her +position so keenly before. + +"Hurrah for Kate!" cried the Squire, and everyone took it up and gave +three cheers for Kate Brewster. + +The wanderer withdrew into the deepest shadow of the porch, that her +alien presence might not mar the joyous home-coming of Kate Brewster. +There was no jealousy in her soul for the fair girl who had such a royal +welcome back to the home-nest. She would not have robbed her of it if +such a thing had been possible, but the sense of her own desolation +gripped at the heart like an iron band. + +She waited like a mendicant to beg for the chance of earning her bread. +That was all she asked--the chance to work, to eat the bread of +independence, and yet she knew how slim the chance was. She had been +wandering about seeking employment all day, and no one would give it. + +Only Dave had not forgotten the stranger is the joy of Kate's +home-coming. He had welcomed the flurry of excitement to say a few words +to his mother, his sworn ally in all the little domestic plots. + +"Mother," he said, "do contrive to keep that girl. It would be nothing +short of murder to turn her out on the highway." + +A pressure of the motherly hand assured Dave that he could rely on her +support. + +"Well, well, Katie," said the Squire with his arm around his niece's +waist, "the old place has been lonely without you!" + +"Uncle, who is that girl on the porch?" she asked in an undertone. + +"That we don't know; says her name is Moore, and that she wants work. +Kind of sounds like a fairy story, don't it, Kate?" + +"Poor thing, poor thing!" was Kate's only answer. + +"Amasy," said Mrs. Bartlett, assuming all the courage of a rabbit about +to assert itself, "this family is bigger than it was with Kate home and +the professor here, and I am not getting younger--I want you to let me +keep this young woman to help me about the house." + +The Squire set his jaw, always an ominous sign to his family. "I don't +like this takin' strangers, folks we know nothing about; it's mighty +suspicious to see a young woman tramping around the country, without a +home, looking for work. I don't like it." + +The girl, who sat apart while these strangers considered taking her in, +as if she had been a friendless dog, arose, her eyes were full of unshed +tears, her voice quivered, but pride supported her. Turning to the +Squire, she said: + +"You are suspicious because you are blest with both home and family. My +mother died a few months ago, I myself have been ill. I make this +explanation not because your kindness warrants it, sir, but because your +family would have been willing to take me on faith." She bowed her head +in the direction of Mrs. Bartlett and Dave. + +"Well," the Squire interrupted, "you need not go away hungry, you can +stop here and eat your dinner, and then Hi Holler can take you in the +wagon to the place provided for such unfortunate cases, and where you'll +have food and shelter." + +"The poor farm, do you mean?" the girl said, wildly; "no, no; if you will +not give me work I will not take your charity." + +"Father!" exclaimed Dave and his mother together. + +"Now, now," said Kate, going up to the Squire and putting her hands on +his shoulders, "it seems to me as if my uncle's been getting a little +hard while I've been away from home, and I don't think it has improved +him a bit. The uncle I left here had a heart as big as a house. What +has he done with it?" + +Here the professor came to Kate's aid. "Squire," said he, "isn't it +written that 'If ye do it unto the least of these, ye do it unto me?'" + +"Well, well," said the Squire, "when a man's family are against him, +there's only one thing for him to do if he wants any peace of mind, and +that is to come round to their way, and I ain't never goin' to have it +said I went agin the _Scripter_." He went over to Anna and took her +pale, thin hand in his great brown one. + +"Well, little woman, they want you to stay, and I am not going to +interfere. I leave it to you that I won't live to regret it." + +This time the tears splashed down the pale cheeks. "Dear sir, I thank +you, and I promise you shall never repent this kindness." Then turning +to the rest--"I thank you all. I can only repay you by doing my best." + +"Well said, well said," and Kate gave her a sisterly pat on the shoulder. + +Anna would not listen to Mrs. Bartlett's kind suggestion that she should +rest a little while. She went immediately to the house, removed her hat, +and returned completely enveloped in a big gingham apron that proved +wonderfully becoming to her dark beauty--or was it that the homeless, +hunted look had gone out of those sorrowful eyes? + +And so Anna Moore had found a home at last, one in which she would have +to work early and late to retain a foothold--but still a home, and the +word rang in her ears like a soothing song, after the anguish of the last +year. Her youth and beauty, she had long since discovered, were only +barriers to the surroundings she sought. There had been many who offered +to help the friendless girl, but their offers were such that death seemed +preferable, by contrast, and Anna had gone from place to place, seeking +only the right to earn her bread, and yet, finding only temptation and +danger. + +Dave, passing out to the barn, stopped for a moment to regard her, as she +sat on the lowest step of the porch, with her sleeves rolled above the +elbow, working a bowl of butter. He smiled at her encouragingly--it was +well that none of his family saw it. Such a smile from the shy, silent +Dave might have been a revelation to the home circle. + +[Illustration: Martha Perkins and Maria Poole.] + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +ANNA AND SANDERSON AGAIN MEET. + + + "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd + Nor hell a fury like a woman scorn'd."--_Congreve_. + + +"And who be you, with those big brown eyes, sitting on the Bartlett's +porch working that butter as if you've been used to handling butter all +your life? No city girl, I'm sure." Anna had been at the Squire's for +a week when the above query was put to her. + +The voice was high and rasping. The whole sentence was delivered +without breath or pause, as if it was one long word. The speaker might +have been the old maid as portrayed in the illustrated weekly. Nothing +was lacking--corkscrew curls, prunella boots, cameo brooch and chain, a +gown of the antiquated Redingote type, trimmed with many small ruffles +and punctuated, irrelevantly, with immovable buttons. + +"I am Anna Moore." + +"Know as much now as I ever did," snapped the interlocutor. + +"I have come to work for Mrs. Bartlett, to help her about the house." + +"Land sakes. Bartlett's keeping help! How stylish they're getting." + +"Yes, Marthy, we are progressing," said Kate, coming out of the house. +"Anna, this is our friend, Miss Marthy Perkins." + +The village gossip's confusion was but momentary. "Do you know, Kate, +I just came over a-purpose to see if you'd come. What kind of clothes +are they wearing in Boston? Are shirtwaists going to have tucked backs +or plain? I am going to make over my gray alpaca, and I wouldn't put +the scissors into it till I seen you." + +"Come upstairs, Marthy, and I'll show you my new shirtwaists." + +"Land sakes," said the spinster, bridling. "I would be delighted, but +you know how I can't move without that Seth Holcomb a-taggin' after me; +it's just awful the way I am persecuted. I do wish I'd get old and +then there'll be an end of it." She held out a pair of mittens, +vintage of 1812, to Kate, appealingly. + +Seth Holcomb stumped in sight as she concluded; he had been Martha's +faithful admirer these twenty years, but she would never reward him; +her hopes of younger and less rheumatic game seemed to spring eternal. + +During the few days that Anna had made one of the Squire's family she +went about with deep thankfulness in her heart; she had been given the +chance to work, to earn her bread by these good people. Who could +tell--as time went on perhaps they would grow fond of her, learn to +regard her as one of themselves--it was so much better than being so +utterly alone. + +Her energy never flagged, she did her share of the work with the light +hand of experience that delighted the old housekeeper. It was so good +to feel a roof over her head, and to feel that she was earning her +right to it. + +Supper had been cooked, the table laid and everything was in readiness +for the family meal, but the old clock wanted five minutes of the hour; +the girl came out into the glowing sunset to draw a pail of water from +the old well, but paused to enjoy the scene. Purple, gold and crimson +was the mantle of the departing day; and all her crushed and hopeless +youth rose, cheered by its glory. + +"Thank God," she murmured fervently, "at last I have found a refuge. I +am beginning life again. The shadow of the old one will rest on me +forever, but time and work, the cure for every grief, will cure me." + +Her eyes had been turned toward the west, where the day was going out +in such a riot of splendor, and she had not noticed the man who entered +the gate and was making his way toward her, flicking his boots with his +riding crop as he walked. + +She turned suddenly at the sound of steps on the gravel; in the +gathering darkness neither could see nor recognize the other till they +were face to face. + +The woman's face blanched, she stifled an exclamation of horror and +stared at him. + +"You! you here!" + +It was Lennox Sanderson, and the sight of him, so suddenly, in this +out-of-the-way place, made her reel, almost fainting against the +well-curb. + +He grabbed her arm and shook her roughly, and said, "What are you doing +here, in this place?" + +"I am trying to earn my living. Go, go," she whispered. + +"Do you think I came here after you?" he sneered. "I've come to see +the Squire." All the selfishness and cowardice latent in Sanderson's +character were reflected in his face, at that moment, destroying its +natural symmetry, disfiguring it with tell-tale lines, and showing him +at his par value--a weak, contemptible libertine, brought to bay. + +This meeting with his victim after all these long months of silence, in +this remote place, deprived him, momentarily, of his customary poise +and equilibrium. Why was she here? Would she denounce him to these +people? What effect would it have? were some of the questions that +whirled through his brain as they stood together in the gathering +twilight. + +But the shrinking look in her eyes allayed his fears. He read terror +in every line of her quivering figure, and in the frantic way she clung +to the well-curb to increase the space between them. She, with the +right to accuse, unconsciously took the attitude of supplication. The +man knew he had nothing to fear, and laid his plans accordingly. + +"I don't believe you've come here to look for work," he said, stooping +over the crouching figure. "You've come here to make trouble--to hound +the life out of me." + +"My hope in coming here was that I might never see you again. What +could I want of you, Lennox Sanderson?" + +The measured contempt of her tones was not without its effect. He +winced perceptibly, but his coarse instincts rallied to his help and +again he began to bully: + +"Spare me the usual hard-luck story of the deceived young woman trying +to make an honest living. If you insist on drudging, it's your own +fault. I offered to take care of you and provide for your future, but +you received my offers of assistance with a 'Villain-take-your-gold' +style, that I was not prepared to accept. If, as you say, you never +wish to see me again, what is simpler than to go away?" + +His cold-blooded indifference, his utter withdrawal from the calamity +he had brought upon her, his airy suggestion that she should go because +it suited his pleasure to remain, maddened Anna. The blood rushed to +her pale cheeks and there came her old conquering beauty with it. She +eyed him with equal defiance. + +"I shall not go, because it does not suit me." And then wavering a +little at the thought of her wretched experience--"I had too much +trouble finding a place where an honest home is offered for honest +work, to leave this one for your whim. No, I shall not go." + +They heard footsteps moving about the house. A lamp shone out from the +dining-room window. The Squire's voice, inquiring for Kate, came +across to them on the still summer air. They looked into each other's +pale, determined faces. Which would yield? It was the old struggle +between the sexes--a struggle old as earth, unsettled as chaos. + +Which should yield? The man who had sinned much, or the woman who had +loved much? + +Sanderson employed all the force of his brutality to frighten Anna into +yielding. "See here," and he caught her arm in no uncertain grasp. +"You've got to go. You can't stay here in the same place with me. If +money is what you want, you shall have it; but you've got to go. Do +you understand? _Go_!" + +He had emphasized his words by tightening the grip on her arm, and the +pain of it well nigh made her cry out. He relaxed his hold just as Hi +Holler came out on the porch, seized the supper horn and blew it +furiously. The Squire came down and looked amazed at the smartly +dressed young city man talking to Anna. + +"Squire," she said, taking the initiative, "this gentleman is inquiring +for you." + +On hearing the Squire's footsteps, Sanderson turned to him with all the +cordiality at his command, and, slapping him on the back, said: "Hello, +Squire, I've just ridden over to talk to you about your prize Jersey +heifer." The Squire had only met Sanderson once or twice before, and +that was prior to Kate's visit to Boston; but he knew all about the +young man who had become his neighbor. + +Lennox Sanderson was a lucky fellow, and while waiting impatiently for +his father to start him in life, his uncle, the judge, died and +mentioned no one but Lennox Sanderson in his will. + +The Squire had known the late Judge Sanderson, the "big man" of the +county, very well, and lost no time in cultivating the acquaintance of +the judge's nephew, who had fallen heir to the fine property the judge +had accumulated, no small part of which was the handsome "country seat" +of the judge in the neighborhood. + +That is how this fine young city man happened to drop in on the Squire +so unceremoniously. He had learned of Kate's return from Boston and +was hastening to pay his respects to the pretty girl. To say he was +astounded to find Anna on the spot is putting it mildly. He believed +she had learned of his good fortune and had followed him, to make +disagreeable exactions. It put him in a rage and it cost him a strong +effort to conceal it before the Squire. + +"Walk right in," said the Squire, beaming with hospitality. Sanderson +entered and the girl found herself alone in the twilight. Anna sat on +the bench by the well-curb and faced despair. She was physically so +weak from her long and recent illness that the unexpected interview +with Sanderson left her faint and exhausted. The momentary flare up of +her righteous indignation at Sanderson's outrageous proposition that +she should go away had sapped her strength and she made ready to meet +one of the great crises of life with nerveless, trembling body and a +mind incapable of action. + +She pressed her throbbing head on the cool stones of the well-curb and +prayed for light. What could she do--where could she go? Her fate +rose up before her like a great stone prison wall at which she beat +with naked bleeding hand and the stones still stood in all their +mightiness. + +How could she cope with such heartless cruelty as that of Sanderson? +All that she had asked for was an honest roof in return for honest +toil. And there are so few such, thought the helpless girl, +remembering with awful vividness her efforts to find work and the +pitfalls and barriers that had been put in her way, often in the guise +of friendly interest. + +She could not go out and face it all over again. It was so bleak--so +bleak. There seemed to be no place in the great world that she could +fill, no one stood in need of her help, no one required her services. +They had no faith in her story that she was looking for work and had no +home. + +"What, a good-looking young girl like you! What, no home? No, no; we +don't need you," or the other frightful alternative. + +And yet she must go. Sanderson was right. She could not stay where he +was. She must go. But where? + +She could hear his voice in the dining-room, entertaining them all with +his inimitable gift of story-telling. And then, their laughter--peal +on peal of it--and his voice cutting in, with its well-bred modulation: +"Yes, I thought it was a pretty good story myself, even if the joke was +on me." And again their laughter and applause. She had no weapons +with which to fight such cold-blooded selfishness. To stay meant +eternal torture. She saw herself forced to face his complacent sneer +day after day and death on the roadside seemed preferable. + +She tried to face the situation in all its pitiful reality, but the +injustice of it cried out for vengeance and she could not think. She +could only bury her throbbing temples in her hands and murmur over and +over again: "It is all wrong." + +David found her thus, as he made his way to the house from the barn, +where he had been detained later than the others. When he saw her +forlorn little figure huddled by the well-curb in an attitude of +absolute dejection, he could not go on without saying some word of +comfort. + +"Miss Anna," he said very gently, "I hope you are not going to be +homesick with us." + +She lifted a pale, tear-stained face, on which the lines of suffering +were written far in advance of her years. + +"It does not matter, Mr. David," she answered him, "I am going away." + +"No, no, you are not going to do anything of the kind," he said gently; +"the work seems hard today because it is new, but in a day or two you +will become accustomed to it, and to us. We may seem a bit hard and +unsympathetic; I can see you are not used to our ways of living, and +looking at things, but we are sincere, and we want you to stay with us; +indeed, we do." + +She gave him a wealth of gratitude from her beautiful brown eyes. "It +is not that I find the place hard, Mr. David. Every one has been so +kind to me that I would be glad to stay, but--but----" + +He did not press her for her reason. "You have been ill, I believe you +said?" + +"Yes, very ill indeed, and there are not many who would give work to a +delicate girl. Oh, I am sorry to go----" She broke off wildly, and +the tears filled her eyes. + +"Miss Anna, when one is ill, it's hard to know what is best. Don't +make up your mind just yet. Stay for a few days and give us a trial, +and just call on me when you want a bucket of water or anything else +that taxes your strength." + +She tried to answer him but could not. They were the first words of +real kindness, after all these months of sorrow and loneliness, and +they broke down the icy barrier that seemed to have enclosed her heart. +She bent her head and wept silently. + +"There, there, little woman," he said, patting her shoulder when he +would have given anything to put his arm around her and offer her the +devotion of his life. But Dave had a good bit of hard common sense +under his hat, and he knew that such a declaration would only hasten +her departure and the wise young man continued to be brotherly, to urge +her to stay for his mother's sake, and because it was so hard for a +young woman to find the proper kind of a home, and really she was not a +good judge of what was best for her. + +And Anna, whose storm-swept soul was so weary of beating against the +rocks, listened and made up her mind to enjoy the wholesome +companionship of these good people, for a little while at least. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +RUSTIC HOSPITALITY. + + + "Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crowned, + Where all the ruddy family around + Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, + Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale."--_Goldsmith_. + + +Sanderson's clothes, his manner, his slightly English accent, were all +so many items in a good letter of credit to those simple people. The +Squire was secretly proud at having a city man like young Sanderson for +a neighbor. It would unquestionably add tone to Wakefield society. + +Kate regarded him with the frank admiration of a young woman who +appreciates a smart appearance, good manner, and the indefinable +something that goes to make up the ensemble of the man of the world. +He could say nothing, cleverly; he had little subtleties of manner that +put the other men she had met to poor advantage beside him. On the +night in question the Squire was giving a supper in honor of the +berry-pickers who had helped to gather in the crop the week before. +Afterwards, they would sing the sweet, homely songs that all the +village loved, and then troop home by moonlight to the accompaniment of +their own music. + +"Well, Mr. Sanderson," said the Squire, "suppose you stay to supper +with us. See, we've lots of good company"--and he waved his hand, +indicating the different groups, "and we'll talk about the stock +afterwards." + +He accepted their invitation to supper with flattering alacrity; they +were so good to take pity on a solitaire, and Mrs. Bartlett was such a +famous housekeeper; he had heard of her apple-pies in Boston. Dave +scented patronage in his "citified" air; he and other young men at the +table--young men who helped about the farm--resented everything about +the stranger from the self-satisfied poise of his head to the +aggressive gloss on his riding-boots. + +"Why, Dave," said Kate to her cousin in an undertone, "you look +positively fierce. If I had a particle of vanity I should say you were +jealous." + +"When I get jealous, Kate, it will be of a man, not of a tailor's sign." + +"Say, Miss Kate," said Hi Holler, "they're a couple of old lengths of +stove-pipes out in the loft; I'm going to polish 'em up for leggins. +Darned if I let any city dude get ahead o' me." + +"The green-eyed monster is driving you all crazy," laughed Kate, in +great good humor. "The girls don't seem to find any fault with him." +Cynthia and Amelia were both regarding him with admiring glances. + +Dave turned away in some impatience. Involuntarily his eyes sought out +Anna Moore to see if she, too, was adding her quota of admiration to +the stranger's account. But Anna had no eyes or ears for anything but +the business of the moment, which was attending to the Squire's guests. +Evidently one woman could retain her senses in the presence of this +tailor's figure. Dave's admiration of Anna went up several points. + +She slipped about as quietly as a spirit, removing and replacing dishes +with exquisite deftness. Even the Squire was forced to acknowledge +that she was a great acquisition to the household. She neither sought +to avoid nor to attract the attention of Sanderson; she waited on him +attentively and unobtrusively as she would have waited on any other +guest at the Squire's table. The Squire and Sanderson retired to the +porch to discuss the purchase of the stock, and Mrs. Bartlett and Anna +set to work to clear away the dishes. Kate excused herself from +assisting, as she had to assume the position as hostess and soon had +the church choir singing in its very best style. Song after song rang +out on the clear summer air. It was a treat not likely to be forgotten +soon by the listeners. All the members of the choir had what is known +as "natural talent," joined to which there was a very fair amount of +cultivation, and the result was music of a most pleasing type, music +that touches the heart--not a mere display Of vocal gymnastics. + +Toward the close of the festivities, the sound of wheels was heard, and +the cracked voice of Rube Whipple, the town constable, urging his +ancient nag to greater speed, issued out of the darkness. Rube was +what is known as a "character." He had held the office, which on +account of being associated with him had become a sort of municipal +joke, in the earliest recollections of the oldest inhabitants. He +apparently got no older. For the past fifty years he had looked as if +he had been ready to totter into the grave at any moment, but he took +it out apparently, in attending to other people's funerals instead. +His voice was cracked, he walked with a limp, and his clothes, Hi +Holler said: "was the old suit Noah left in the ark." + +The choir had just finished singing "Rock of Ages" as the constable +turned his venerable piece of horseflesh into the front yard. + +"Well, well," he said, in a voice like a graphophone badly in need of +repair, "I might have knowed it was the choir kicking up all that +rumpus. Heard the row clear up to the postoffice, and thought I'd come +up to see if anyone was getting murdered." + +"Thought you'd be on the spot for once, did you, Rube?" inquired Hi +Holler. "Well, seeing you're here, we might accommodate you, by +getting up a murder, or a row, or something. 'Twould be too bad to +have nothing happen, seeing you are on hand for once." + +The choir joined heartily in the laugh on the constable, who waited +till it had subsided and then said: + +"Well, what's the matter with jailing all of you for disturbing the +public peace. There's law for it--'disturbin' the public peace with +strange sounds at late and unusual hours of the night.'" + +"All right, constable," said Cynthia, "I suppose you'll drive us to +jail in that rig o' yourn. I'd be willing to stay there six months for +the sake o' driving behind so spry a piece of horse-flesh as that." + +"'Tain't the horseflesh she's after, constable, it's the driver. +Everyone 'round here knows how Cynthia dew admire you." + +"Professional jealousy is what's at the bottom of this," declared Kate, +"the choir is jealous of Uncle Rube's reputation as a singer, and Uncle +Rube does not care for the choir's new-fangled methods of singing. +Rivalry! Rivalry! That's what the matter." + +"That's right, Miss Kate," squeaked the constable, "they're jealous of +my singing. There ain't one of 'em, with all their scaling, and +do-re-mi-ing can touch me. If I turned professional to-day, I'd make +more'n all of 'em put together." + +"That's cause they'd pay you to quit. Ha, ha," said Hi Holler. + +And so the evening passed with the banter that invariably took place +when Rube was of the party. It was late when they left the Squire's, +the constable going along with them, and all singing merrily as birds +on a summer morning. + +David went out under the stars and smoked innumerable pipes, but they +did not give their customary solace to-night. There was an upheaval +going on in his well regulated mind. "Who was she? What was the +mystery about her? How did a girl like that come to be tramping about +the country looking for work?" Her manner of speaking, the very +intonations of her voice, her choice of words, all proclaimed her from +a different world from theirs. He had noticed her hands, white and +fragile, and her small delicate wrists. They did not belong to a +working woman. + +And her eyes, that seemed to hold the sorrows of centuries in their +liquid depths. What was the mystery of it all? And that insolent city +chap! What a look he had given her. The memory of it made Dave's +hands come together as if he were strangling something. But it was all +too deep for him. The lights glimmered in the rooms upstairs. His +father walked to the outer gate to say good-night to Mr. Sanderson--and +he tried to justify the feeling of hatred he felt toward Sanderson, but +could not. The sound of a shutter being drawn in, caused him to look +up. Anna, leaned out in the moonlight for a moment before drawing in +the blind. Dave took off his hat--it was an unconscious act of +reverence. The next moment, the grave, shy countryman had smiled at +his sentimentality. The shutters closed and all was dark, but Dave +continued to think and smoke far into the night. + +The days slipped by in pleasant and even tenor. The summer burned +itself out in a riot of glorious colors, the harvest was gathered in, +and the ripe apples fell from the trees--and there was a wail of coming +winter to the night wind. Anna Moore had made her place in the +Bartlett family. The Squire could not imagine how he ever got along +without her; she always thought of everyone's comfort and remembered +their little individual likes and dislikes, till the whole household +grew to depend on her. + +But she never spoke of herself nor referred to her family, friends or +manner of living, before coming to the Bartlett farm. + +When she had first come among them, her beauty had caused a little +ripple of excitement among the neighbors; the young men, in particular, +were all anxious to take her to husking bees and quilting parties, but +she always had some excellent excuse for not going, and while her +refusals were offered with the utmost kindness, there was a quiet +dignity about the girl that made any attempt at rustic playfulness or +familiarity impossible. + +Sanderson came to the house from time to time, but Anna treated him +precisely as she would have treated any other young man who came to the +Squire's. She was the family "help," her duty stopped in announcing +the guests--or sometimes, and then she felt that fate had been +particularly cruel--in waiting on him at table. + +Once or twice when Sanderson had found her alone, he had attempted to +speak to her. But she silenced him with a look that seat him away +cowering like a whipped cur. If he had any interest in any member of +the Squire's family, Anna did not notice it. He was an ugly scar on +her memory, and when not actually in his presence she tried to forget +that he lived. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +KATE BREWSTER HOLDS SANDERSON'S ATTENTION. + + + "A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch + Incapable of pity, void and empty + From any dram of mercy."--_Shakespeare_. + + +It was perhaps owing to the fact that Anna strove hourly to eliminate +the memory of Lennox Sanderson from her life, that she remained wholly +unaware of that which every member of the Squire's household was +beginning to notice: namely, that Lennox Sanderson was becoming daily +more attentive to Kate Brewster. + +She had more than once hazarded a guess on why a man of Sanderson's +tastes should care to remain in so quiet a neighborhood, but could +arrive at no solution of the case. In discussing him, she had heard +the Bartletts quote his reason, that he was studying practical farming, +and later on intended to take it up, on a large scale. When she had +first seen him at the Squire's, she had made up her mind that it would +be better for her to go away, but the memory of the homeless wanderings +she had endured after her mother's death, filled her with terror, and +after the first shock of seeing Sanderson, she concluded that it was +better to remain where she was, unless he should attempt to force his +society on her, in which case she would have to go, if she died by the +wayside. + +Dave was coming across the fields late one autumn afternoon when he saw +Anna at the well, trying with all her small strength to draw up a +bucket of water. The well--one of the old-fashioned kind that worked +by a "sweep" and pole, at the end of which hung "the old oaken bucket" +which Anna drew up easily till the last few feet and then found it was +hard work. She had both hands on the iron bale of the bucket and was +panting a little, when a deep, gentle voice said in her ear: "Let go, +little woman, that's too heavy for you." And she felt the bucket taken +forcibly out of her hand. + +"Never mind me, Mr. David," she said, giving way reluctantly. + +"Always at some hard work or other," he said; "you won't quit till you +get laid up sick." + +He filled the water-pail from the bucket for her, which she took up and +was about to go when he found courage to say: + +"Won't you stay a minute, Anna, I want to talk to you. + +"Anna, have you any relatives?" + +"Not now." + +"But have you no friends who knew you and loved you before you came to +us?" + +"I want nothing of my friends, Mr. David, but their good will." + +"Anna, why will you persist in cutting yourself off from the rest of +the world like this? You are too good, too womanly a girl, to lead +this colorless kind of an existence forever." + +She looked at him pleadingly out of her beautiful eyes. "Mr. David, +you would not be intentionally cruel to me, I know, so don't speak to +me of these things. It only distresses _me_--and can do you no good." + +"Forgive me, Anna, I would not hurt you for the world--but you must +know that I love you. Don't you think you could ever grow to care for +me?" + +"Mr. David, I shall never marry any one. Do not ask me to explain, and +I beg of you, if you have a feeling of even ordinary kindness for me. +that you will never mention this subject to me again. You remember how +I promised your father that if he would let me make my home with you, +he should never live to regret it? Do you think that I intend to repay +the dearest wish of his heart in this way? Why, Mr. David, you are +engaged to marry Kate." She took up the water-pail to go. + +"Kate's one of the best girls alive, but I feel toward her like a +brother. Besides, Anna, what have you been doing with those big brown +eyes of yours? Don't you see that Kate and Lennox Sanderson are head +over heels in love with each other?" + +The pail of water slipped from Anna's hand and sent a flood over +David's boots. + +"No, no--anything but that! You don't know what you are saying!" + +Dave looked at her in absolute amazement. He had no chance to reply. +As if in answer to his remark, there came through the outer gate, Kate +and Sanderson arm in arm. They had been gathering golden-rod, and +their arms were full of the glory of autumn. + +There was a certain assumption of proprietary right in the way that +Sanderson assisted Kate with the golden-rod that Anna recognized. She +knew it, and falseness of it burned through, her like so much corrosive +acid. She stood with the upturned pail at her feet, unable to recover +her composure, her bosom heaving high, her eyes dilating. She stood +there, wild as a startled panther, uncertain whether to fight or fly. + +"You don't know what a good time we've been having," Kate called out. + +"You see, Anna dear, I was right," David said to her. + +But Anna did not answer. Sorrow had broken her on its wheel. Where +was the justice of it? Why should he go forth to seek his +happiness--and find it--and she cower in shame through all the years to +come? + +Dave saw that she had forgotten his presence; she stood there in the +gathering night with wild, unseeing eyes. Memory had turned back the +hands of the clock till it pointed out that fatal hour on another +golden afternoon in autumn, and Sanderson, the hero of the hour, had +come to her with the marks of battle still upon him, and as the crowd +gave away for him, right and left, he had said: "I could not help +winning with your eyes on me." + +Oh, the lying dishonor of it! It was not jealousy that prompted her, +for a moment, to go to Kate and tell her all. What right had such +vultures as he to be received, smiled upon, courted, caressed? If +there was justice on earth, his sin should have been branded on him, +that other women might take warning. + +Dave knew that her thoughts had flown miles wide of him, and his +unselfishness told him that it would be kindness to go into the house +and leave her to herself, which he did with a heavy heart and many +misgivings. + +Hi Holler had none of Dave's sensitiveness. He saw Anna standing by +the gate, and being a loquacious soul, who saw no advantage in silence, +if there was a fellow creature to talk to; he came up grinning: "Say, +Anna, I wonder if me and you was both thinkin' about the same thing--I +was thinkin' as I seen Sanderson and Kate passing that I certainly +would enjoy a piece o' weddin' cake, don't care whose it was." + +"No, Hi," Anna said, being careful to restrain any bitterness of tone, +"I certainly was not wishing for a wedding cake." + +"I certainly do like wedding cake, Anna, but then, I like everything to +eat. Some folks don't like one thing, some folks don't like another. +Difference between them an' me is, I like everything." + +Anna laughed in spite of herself. + +"Yes, since I like everything, and I like it all the time, why, I ain't +more than swallowed the last buckwheat for breakfast, than I am ready +for dinner. You don't s'pose I'm sick or anything, do you, Anna?" + +"I don't think the symptoms sound alarming, Hi." + +"Well, you take a load off my mind, Anna, cause I was getting scared +about myself." Seeing the empty water-pail, Hi refilled it and carried +it in the house for Anna. Dave was not the only one in that household +who was miserable, owing to Cupid's unaccountable antics. Professor +Sterling, the well-paying summer boarder, continued to remain with the +Bartletts, though summer, the happy season during which the rustic may +square his grudge with the city man within his gates, had long since +passed. + +The professor had spared enough time from his bugs and beetles to +notice how blue Kate's eyes were, and how luxurious her hair; then he +had also, with some misgivings, regarded his own in the mirror, with +the unassuring result that his hair was thinning on top and his eyes +looked old through his gold-bowed spectacles. + +The discovery did not meet with the indifference one might have +expected on the part of the conscientious entomologist. He fell even +to the depths of reading hair-restoring circulars and he spent +considerable time debating whether he should change his spectacles for +a pince-nez. + +The spectacles, however, continued to do their work nobly for the +professor, not only assisting him to make his scientific observations +on the habits of a potato-bug in captivity, but showing him with far +more clearness that Kate Brewster and Lennox Sanderson contrived to +spend a great deal of time in each other's society, and that both +seemed to enjoy the time thus spent. + +The professor went back to his beetles, but they palled. The most +gorgeous butterfly ever constructed had not one-tenth the charm for him +that was contained in a glance of Kate Brewster's eyes, or a glimpse of +her golden head as she flitted about the house. And so the autumn +waned. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE QUALITY OF MERCY + + + "Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see; + That mercy I to others show, + That mercy show to me."--_Pope_. + + +Sanderson, during his visits to the Bartlett farm--and they became more +frequent as time went on--would look at Anna with cold curiosity, not +unmixed with contempt, when by chance they happened to be alone for a +moment. But the girl never displayed by so much as the quiver of an +eye-lash that she had ever seen him before. + +Had Lennox Sanderson been capable of fathoming Anna Moore, or even of +reading her present marble look or tone, he would have seen that he had +little to apprehend from her beyond contempt, a thing he would not in +the least have minded; but he was cunning, and like the cunning +shallow. So he began to formulate plans for making things even with +Anna--in other words, buying her off. + +His admiration for Kate deepened in proportion as the square of that +young woman's reserve increased. She was not only the first woman who +refused to burn incense at his shrine, but also the first who frankly +admitted that she found him amusing. She mildly guyed his accent, his +manner of talking, his London clothes, his way of looking at things. +Never having lived near a university town, she escaped the traditional +hero worship. It was a new sensation for Sanderson, and eventually he +succumbed to it. + +"You know, Miss Kate," he said one day, "you are positively the most +refreshing girl I have ever met. You don't know how much I love you." + +Kate considered for a moment. There was a hint of patronage, it seemed +to her, in his compliment, that she did not care for. + +"Oh, consider the debt cancelled, Mr. Sanderson. You have not found my +rustic simplicity any more refreshing than I have found your poster +waistcoats." + +"Why do you persist is misunderstanding and hurting me?" + +"I apologize to your waistcoats, Mr. Sanderson. I have long considered +them the substitute for your better nature." + +"Better natures and that sort of thing have rather gone out of style, +haven't they?" + +"They are always out of style with people who never had them." + +"Is this quarreling, Kate, or making love?" + +"Oh, let's make it quarreling, Mr. Sanderson. And now about that horse +you lent me. That's a vile bit you've got on him." And the +conversation turned to other things, as it always did when he tried to +be sentimental with Kate. Sometimes he thought it was not the girl, +but her resistance, that he admired so much. + +Things in the Bartlett household were getting a bit uneasy. The Squire +chafed that his cherished project of Kate and Dave's marrying seemed no +nearer realization now than it had been two years ago. + +Dave's equable temper vanished under the strain and uncertainty +regarding Anna Moore's silence and apparent indifference to him. He +would have believed her before all the world; her side of the story was +the only version for him; but Anna did not see fit to break her +silence. When he would approach her on the subject she would only say: + +"Mr. David, your father employs me as a servant. I try to do my work +faithfully, but my past life concerns no one but myself." + +And Dave, fearing that she might leave them, if he continued to force +his attentions on her, held his peace. The thought of losing even the +sight of her about the house wrung his heart. He could not bear to +contemplate the long winter days uncheered by her gentle presence. + +It was nearly Thanksgiving. The first snow had come and covered up +everything that was bare and unsightly in the landscape with its +beautiful mantle of white, and Anna, sitting by the window, dropped the +stocking she was darning to press the bitter tears back to her eyes. + +The snow had but one thought for her. She saw it falling, falling soft +and feathery on a baby's grave in the Episcopal Cemetery at Somerville. +She shivered; it was as if the flakes were falling on her own warm +flesh. + +If she could but go to that little grave and lie down among the +feathery flakes and forget it all, it would be so much easier than this +eternal struggle to live. What had life in store for her? There was +the daily drudgery, years and years of it, and always the crushing +knowledge of injustice. + +She knew how it would be. Scandal would track her down--put a price on +her head; these people who had given her a home would hear, and what +would all her months of faithful service avail? + +"Is this true?" she already heard the Squire say in imagination, and +she should have to answer: "Yes"--and there would be the open door and +the finger pointing to her to go. + +She heard the Squire's familiar step on the stair; unconsciously, she +crouched lower; had he come to tell her to go? + +But the Squire came in whistling, a picture of homely contentment, +hands in pocket, smiling jovially. She knew there must be no telltale +tears on her cheeks, even if her heart was crying out in the cold and +snow. She knew the bitterness of being denied the comfort of tears. +It was but one of the hideous train of horrors that pursued a woman in +her position. + +She forced them back and met the Squire with a smile that was all the +sweeter for the effort. + +"Here's your chair, Squire, all ready waiting for you, and the only +thing you want to make you perfectly happy--is--guess?" She held out +his old corncob pipe, filled to perfection. + +"I declare, Anna, you are just spoiling me, and some day you'll be +going off and getting married to some of these young fellows 'round +here, and where will I be then?" + +"You need have no fears on that score," she said, struggling to +maintain a smile. + +"Well, well, that's what girls always say, but I don't know what we'll +do without you. How long have you been with us, now?" + +"Let me see," counting on her fingers: "just six months." + +"So it is, my dear. Well, I hope it will be six years before you think +of leaving us. And, Anna, while we are talking, I like to say to you +that I have felt pretty mean more than once about the way I treated you +that first day you come." + +"Pray, do not mention it, Squire. Your kindness since has quite made +me forget that you hesitated to take an utter stranger into your +household." + +"That was it, my dear--an utter stranger--and you cannot really blame +me; here was Looizy and Kate and I was asked to take into the house +with them a young woman whom I had never set eyes on before; it seemed +to me a trifle risky, but you've proved that I was wrong, my dear, and +I'll admit it." + +The girl dropped the stocking she was mending; her trembling hand +refused to support even the pretense of work. Outside the snow was +falling just as it was falling, perhaps, on the little grave where all +her youth and hope were buried. + +The thought gave her courage to speak, though the pale lips struggled +pitifully to frame the words. + +"Squire, suppose that when I came to you that day last June you had +been right--I am only saying this for the sake of argument, Squire--but +suppose that I had been a deceived girl, that I had come here to begin +all over again; to live down the injustice, the scandal and all the +other things that unfortunate woman have to live down, would you still +have felt the same?" + +"Why, Anna, I never heard you talk like this before; of course I should +have felt the same; if a commandment is broke, it's broke; nothing can +alter that, can it?" + +"But, Squire, is there no mercy, no chance held out to the woman who +has been unfortunate?" + +"Anna, these arguments don't sound well from a proper behaving young +woman like you. I know it's the fashion nowadays for good women to +talk about mercy to their fallen sisters, but it's a mistake. When a +woman falls, she loses her right to respect, and that's the end of it." + +She turned her face to the storm and the softly falling flakes were no +whiter than her face. + +As Anna turned to leave the room on some pretext, she saw Kate coming +in with a huge bunch of Jacqueminot roses in her hand. Of course, +Sanderson had sent them. The perfume of them sickened Anna, as the +odor of a charnel house might have done. She tried to smile bravely +at Kate, who smiled back triumphantly as she went in to show her uncle +the flowers. But the sight of them was like the turning of a knife in +a festering wound. + +Anna made her way to the kitchen. Dave was sitting there smoking. +Anna found strength and sustenance in his mere presence, though she did +not say a word to him, but he was such a faithful soul. Good, honest +Dave. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE VILLAGE GOSSIP SNIFFS SCANDAL. + + + "Flavia, most tender of her own good name, + Is rather careless of her sister's fame! + Her superfluity the poor supplies, + But if she touch a character it dies."--_Cowper_. + + +It was characteristic of Marthy Perkins and her continual pursuit of +pleasure, that she should wade through snowdrifts to Squire Bartlett's +and ask for a lift in his sleigh. The Squire's family were going to a +surprise party to be given to one of the neighbor's, and Marthy was as +determined about going as a debutante. + +She came in, covered with snow, hooded, shawled and coated till she +resembled a huge cocoon. The Squire placed a big armchair for her near +the fire, and Marshy sat down, but not without disdaining Anna's offers +to remove her wraps. She sniffed at Anna--no other word will express +it--and savagely clutched her big old-fashioned muff when Anna would +have taken it from her to dry it of the snow. + +The sleighbells jingled merrily as the different parties drove by, +singing, whistling, laughing, on their way to the party. The church +choir, snugly installed in "Doc" Wiggins' sleigh, stopped at the +Squire's to "thaw out," and try a step or two; Rube Whipple, the town +constable, giving them his famous song, "All Bound 'Round with a Woolen +String." + +Rube was, as usual, the pivot around which the merry-making centered. +A few nights before, burglars had broken into the postoffice and +carried off the stamps, and the town constable was, as usual, the last +one to hear of it. On the night in question, he had spent the evening +at the corner grocery store with a couple of his old pals, the stove +answering the purpose of a rather large bulls-eye, at which they +expectorated, with conscientious regularity, from time to time. Seth +Holcomb, Marthy Perkins' faithful swain, had been of the corner grocery +party. + +"Well, Constable, hear you and Seth helped keep the stove warm the +other night, while thieves walked off with the postoffice," Marthy +announced; "what I'd like to know is, how much bitters, rheumatism +bitters, you had during the evening?" + +"Well, Marthy Perkins, you ought to be the last to throw it up to Seth +that he's obliged to spend his evenings round a corner grocery--that's +adding insult to injury." + +"Insult to injury I reckon can stand, Rube; it's when you add Seth's +bitters that it staggers." + +But Seth, who never minded Marthy's stings and jibes, only remarked: +"The recipy for them bitters was given to me by a blame good doctor." + +"That cuts you out, Wiggins," the Squire said playfully. + +"No, I don't care about standing father to Seth's bitters," "Doc" +Wiggins remarked, "but I've tasted worse stuff on a cold night." + +"Oh, Seth ain't pertickler about the temperature, when he takes a dose +of bitters. Hot or cold, it's all the same to him," finished Marthy. + +Seth took the opportunity to whisper to her: "You're going to sit next +to me in 'Doc' Wiggins' sleigh to-night, ain't you, Marthy?" + +"Indeed I ain't," said the spinster, scornfully tossing her head, "my +place will have to be filled by the bitters-bottle; I am going with the +Squire and Mrs. Bartlett." + +"Doc" Wiggins' party left in high good humor, the Squire and his party +promising to follow immediately. Anna ran upstairs to get Mrs. +Bartlett's bonnet and cloak, and Marthy, with a great air of mystery, +got up, and, carefully closing the door after the girl, turned to the +Squire and his wife with: + +"I've come to tell you something about her." + +"Something about Anna?" said the Squire indignantly. + +"Oh, no, not about our Anna," protested Mrs. Bartlett: "Why, she is the +best kind of a girl; we are all devoted to her." + +"That's just the saddest part of it, I says to myself when I heard. +How can I ever make up my mind to tell them pore, dear Bartletts, who +took her in, and has been treating her like one of their own family +ever since? It will come hard on, them, I sez, but that ought not to +deter me from my duty." + +"Look here, Marthy," thundered the Squire, "if you've got anything to +say about that girl, out with it----" + +"Well, land sake--you needn't be so touchy; she ain't kin to you, and +you might thank your lucky stars she ain't." + +"Well, what is it, Marthy?" interposed Mrs. Bartlett. "Anna'll be down +in a minute." + +"Well, you know, I have been sewin' down to Warren Center this last +week, and Maria Thomson, from Belden, was visiting there, and naturally +we all got to talking 'bout folks up this way, and that girl Anna +Moore's name was mentioned, and I'm blest if Maria Thomson didn't +recognize her from my description. + +"I was telling them 'bout the way she came here last June, pale as a +ghost, and how she said her mother had just died and she'd been sick, +and they knew right off who she was." + +Marthy loved few things as she did an interested audience. It was her +meat and drink. + +"Well, she didn't call herself Moore in Belden, though that was her +mother's name--she called herself Lennox," Marthy grinned. "She was +one of those married ladies who forgot their wedding rings." + +The Squire knit his brows and his jaws came together with a snap; there +were tears in Mrs. Bartlett's eyes. The gossip looked from one to the +other to see the impression her words were making. + +It spurred her on to new efforts. She positively rolled the words +about in delight before she could utter them. + +"Well, the girl's mother, who had been looking worried out of her skin, +took sick and died all of a sudden, and the girl took sick herself very +soon afterwards--and what do you think? A girl baby was born to Mrs. +Lennox, but her husband never came near her. Fortunately, the baby did +not live to embarrass her. It died, and she packed up and left Belden. +That's when she came here. + +"And now," continued the village inquisitor, summing up her terrible +evidence, "what are we to think of a girl called Miss Moore in one town +and Mrs. Lennox in the other, with no sign of a wedding ring and no +sign of a husband? And what are we going to think of that baby? It +seems to me scandalous." And she leaned back in her chair and rocked +furiously. + +[Illustration: Martha Perkins tells the story of Anna Moore's past +life.] + +The Squire brought his hand down or the table with terrible force, his +pleasant face, was distorted with rage and indignation. + +"Just what I always said would come of taking in strange creatures that +we knew nothing about. Do you think that I will have a creature like +that in my house with my wife and my niece, polluting them with her +very presence?--out she goes this minute!" + +He strode over to the door through which Anna had passed a few moments +before, he flung it open and was about to call when he felt his wife +cling frantically to his arm. + +"Father, don't do anything in anger that you'll repent of later. How +do you know this is true? Look how well the girl has acted since she +has been here"--and in a lower voice, "you know that Marthy's given to +talking." + +The hand on the knob relaxed, a kindly light replaced the anger in his +eyes. + +"You are right, Looizy, what we've heard is only hearsay, I'll not say +a word to the girl till I know; but to-morrow I am going to Belden and +find out the whole story from beginning to end." + +Kate and the professor came in laden with wraps, laughing and talking +in great glee. Kate was going to ride in the sleigh with the +professor, and the discovery of a new species of potato-bug could not +have delighted him more. He was in a most gallant mood, and concluding +that this was the opportunity for making himself agreeable, he +undertook to put on Kate's rubbers over her dainty dancing slippers. + +Perhaps it was a glimpse of the cobwebby black silk stocking that +ensnared his wits, perhaps it was the delight of kneeling to Kate even +in this humble capacity. In either case, the result was equally +grotesque; Kate found her dainty feet neatly enclosed in the +professor's ungainly arctics, while he hopelessly contemplated her +overshoe and the size of his own foot. + +Anna returned with Mrs. Bartlett's bonnet and cloak before the laugh at +the professor had subsided. She adjusted the cloak, tied Mrs. +Bartlett's bonnet strings with daughterly care and then turned to look +after the Squire's comfort, but he strode past her to the sleigh with +Marthy. Kate and the professor called on a cheery "Good-night," but +Mrs. Bartlett remained long enough to take the pretty, sorrowful face +in her hands and give it a sweet, motherly kiss. + +When the jingling of the sleighbells died away across the snow, Hi +offered to read jokes to Anna from "Pickings from Puck," which he had +selected as a Christmas present from Kate, if she would consent to have +supper in the sitting-room, where it was warm and cosy. Anna began to +pop the corn, and Hi to read the jokes with more effort than he would +have expended on the sawing of a cord of wood. + +He bit into an apple. An expression of perfect contentment illuminated +his countenance and in a voice husky with fruit began: "Oh, here is a +lovely one, Anna," and he declaimed, after the style usually employed +by students of the first reader. + +"Weary Raggles: 'Say, Ragsy, w'y don't you ask 'em for something to eat +in dat house. Is you afraid of de dog?'" + +"Ragsy Reagan: 'No, I a-i-n-t 'fraid of the dog, but me pants is frayed +of him.'" + +"Ha, ha, ha--say, Anna, that's the funniest thing I ever did see. The +tramp wasn't frayed of him, but his pants was 'fraid of him. Gee, +ain't that a funny joke? And say, Anna, there's a picture with his +clothes all torn." + +Hi was fairly convulsed; he read till the tears rolled down his cheeks. +"'Pickin's from Puck, the funniest book ever wrote.' Here's another, +Anna." + +"'A p-o-o-r old man was sunstruck on Broadway this morning. His son +struck him for five dollars.'" Hi sat pondering over it for a full +minute, then he burst into a loud guffaw that continued so long and +uproariously that neither heard the continued rapping on the front door. + +"Hi, some one is knocking on the front door. Do go and see who it is." + +"O! let 'em knock, Anna; don't let's break up our party for strangers." + +"Well, Hi, I'll have to go myself," and she laid down the corn-popper, +but the boy got up grumbling, lurched to the door and let in Lennox +Sanderson. + +"'Tain't nobody at home, Mr. Sanderson," said Hi, inhospitably blocking +the way. Anna had crouched over the fire, as if to obliterate herself. + +"Here, Hi, you take this and go out and hold my horse; he's mettlesome +as the deuce this cold weather. I want to get warm before I go to +Putnam's." + +Hi put on his muffler, mits and cap--each with a favorite "swear word," +such as "ding it," "dum it," "darn it." Nevertheless he wisely +concluded to take the half dollar from him and save it for the spring +crop of circuses. + +Anna started to leave the room, but Sanderson's peremptory "Stay here, +I've got to talk to you," detained her. + +They looked into each other's faces--these two, who but a few short +months ago had been all in all to each other--and the dead fire was not +colder than their looks. + +"Well, Anna," he said sneeringly, "what's your game? You've been +hanging about here ever since I came to the neighborhood. How much do +you want to go away?" + +"Nothing that you could give me, Lennox Sanderson. My only wish is +that I might be spared the sight of you." + +"Don't beat around the bush, Anna; is it money, or what? You are not +foolish enough to try to compel me to marry you?" + +"Nothing could be further from my mind. I did think once of compelling +you to right the wrong you have done me, but that is past. It is +buried in the grave with my child." + +"Then the child is dead?" He came over to the fireplace where she +stood, but she drew away from him. + +"You have nothing to fear from me, Lennox Sanderson. The love I felt +once is dead, and I have no feeling for you now but contempt." + +"You need not rub it in like that, Anna. I was perfectly willing to do +the square thing by you always, but you flared up, went away, and +Heaven only knew what became of you. It's bad enough to have things +made unpleasant for me in Boston on your account without having you +queering my plans here." + +"Boston--I never told anyone in Boston." + +"No, but that row got into the papers about Langdon and the Tremonts +cut me." + +"Hush," said Anna, as a spasm of pain crossed her face: "I never wish +you to refer to my past life again." + +"Indeed, Anna, I am only too anxious to do the right thing by you, even +now. If you will go away, I will give you what you want, if you don't +intend to interfere between Kate and me." + +"Are you sure that Kate is in earnest? You know that the Squire +intends her to marry Dave." + +"I shall have no difficulty in preventing that if you don't interfere." + +She did not answer. She was again considering the same old question +that she had thrashed out a thousand times--should she tell Kate? How +would she take it? Would the tragedy of her life be regarded as a +little wild-oat sowing on the part of Sanderson and her own eternal +disgrace? + +The man was in no humor for her silence. He grasped her roughly by the +arm, and his voice was raised loud in angry protest. "Tell me--do you, +or do you not intend to interfere?" + +In the excitement of the moment neither heard the outer door open, and +neither heard David enter. He stood in his quiet way, looking from one +to the other. Sanderson's angry question died away in some foolish +commonplace, but David had heard and Anna and Sanderson knew it. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +DAVID CONFESSES HIS LOVE. + + + "Come live with me and be my love; + And we will all the pleasures prove + That hills and valleys, dales and fields, + Woods, or steep mountains, yield."--_Marlowe_. + + +Sanderson, recovering his self-possession almost immediately, drawled +out: + +"Glad to see you, Dave. Came over thinking I might be in time to go +over to Putnam's with your people. They had gone, so I stopped long +enough to get warm. I must be going now. Good-night, Miss--Miss"--(he +seemed, to have great difficulty in recalling the name) "Moore." + +David paid no attention to him; his eyes were riveted on Anna, who had +changed color and was now like ivory flushing into life. She trembled +and fell to her knees, making a pretense of gathering up her knitting +that had fallen. + +"What brought Sanderson here, Anna? Is he anything to you--are you +anything to him?" + +She tried to assume a playful lightness, but it failed dismally. It +was all her pallid lips could do to frame the words: "Why, Mr. David, +what a curious question! What possible interest could the 'catch' of +the neighborhood have in your father's servant?" + +The suggestion of flippancy that her words contained irritated the +grave, quiet man as few things could have done. He turned from her and +would have left the room, but she detained him. + +"I am sorry I wounded you, Mr. David, but, indeed, you have no right to +ask." + +"I know it, Anna, and you won't give me the right; but how dared that +cub Sanderson speak to you in that way?" He caught her hand, and +unconsciously wrung it till she cried out in pain. "Forgive me, dear, +I would not hurt you for the world; but that man's manner toward you +makes me wild." + +She looked up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes; he thought her +eyes were like the glow of forest fires burning through brushwood. "We +will never think of him again, Mr. David. I assure you that I am no +more to Mr. Sanderson than he is to me, and that is--nothing." + +"Thank you for those words, Anna. I cannot tell you how happy they +make me. But I do not understand you at all. Even a countryman like +me can see that you have never been used to our rough way of living; +you were never born to this kind of thing, and yet when that man +Sanderson looks at you or talks to you, there is always an undertone of +contempt in his look, his words." + +She sank wearily into an armchair. It seemed to her that her limit of +endurance had been reached, but he, taking her silence for +acquiescence, lost no time in following up what he fondly hoped might +be an advantage. "I did not go to the Putnams to-night, Anna, because +you were not going, and there is no enjoyment for me when you are not +there." + +"Mr. David, if you continue to talk to me like this I shall have to +leave this house." + +"Tell me, Anna," he said so gravely that the woman beside him knew that +life and death were balanced with her words: "tell me, when you said +that day last autumn by the well that you never intended to marry, was +it just a girl's coquetry or was there some deeper reason for your +saying so?" + +She could not face the love in those honest eyes and answer as her +conscience prompted. She was tired, so tired of the struggle, what +would she not have given to rest here in the shelter of this perfect +love and trust, but it was not for her. + +"Mr. David," she said, looking straight before her with wide, unseeing +eyes; "I can be no man's wife." + +He knew from the lines of suffering written deep on the pale young +face, that maiden coquetry had not inspired her to speak thus; but word +for word, it had been wrung from out of the depths of a troubled soul. + +"Anna!" cried David, in mingled astonishment and pain. But Anna only +turned mutely toward him with an imploring look. She stretched out her +hands to him, as if trying to tell him more. But words failed her. +Her tears overcame her and she fled, sobbing, to her room. All the way +up the winding night of stairs, David could hear her anguished moans. +He would have followed her, but Hi burst into the room, stamping the +snow from his boots. He shoved in the front door as if he had been an +invading army. He unwound his muffler and cast it from him as if he +had a grudge against it, as he proceeded to deliver himself of his +wrongs. + +"If there's any more visitors coming to the house to-night that wants +their horses held, they can do it themselves, for I am going to have my +supper." David made no reply, but went to his own room to brood over +the day's events. And so Anna was spared any further talk with David +that night; a circumstance for which she was devoutly thankful. + +The next day the snow was deeper by a foot, but this did not deter the +Squire from making his proposed trip to Belden. He started immediately +after breakfast, prepared to sift matters to the bottom. + +An air of tension and anxiety pervaded the household all that long, +miserable day. Anna was tortured with doubts. Should she slip away +quietly without telling, or should she make her humiliating confession +to Kate? Mrs. Bartlett, who knew the object of her husband's errand, +could not control her nerves. She knew intuitively "that something was +going to happen," as the good soul put it to herself. + +Altogether it was one of those nerve-wracking days that come from time +to time in the best regulated households, apparently for no other +purpose but to prove the fact that a solitary existence is not +necessarily the most unhappy. + +Mrs. Bartlett, for the first time in her life, was worried about Dave. +He was moody and morose, even to her, his sworn friend and ally, with +whom he had never had a word's difference. He had gone off that +morning shortly after the Squire left the house; and his mother, +watching him carefully at breakfast, noticed that he had shoved away +his plate with the food untasted. + +A fatal symptom to the ever-watchful maternal eye. + +Kate felt sulky because her aunt and uncle had been urging her to marry +Dave, and apparently Dave had no affection for her beyond that of a +cousin, the situation irritating her in the extreme. + +"Aunt Louisa, what is the matter with every one?" she said, flouncing +into the kitchen. "Something seems to have jarred the family nerves. +Here is uncle off on some mysterious business, Dave goes off in the +snow in a tantrum, and you look as if you had just buried your last +friend." And the young lady left the room as suddenly as she entered +it. + +"It does feel as if trouble was brewing," Mrs. Bartlett admitted to +Anna, with a gloomy shake of the head. "I'm getting that worried about +Dave, he's been away all day, and it's not usual for him to stay away +like this." Her voice broke a little, and she left the room hurriedly. + +He came in almost immediately, stamping the snow from his boots and +looking twice as savage as when he went away. + +"Mrs. Bartlett had been worrying about you all day, Mr. David," Anna +said as she turned from the dresser with her arms full of plates. + +"And did you care, Anna, that I was not here?" He gave her the +appealing glance of a great mastiff who hopes for a friendly pat on the +head. + +"My feelings on the subject can be of no interest to you," she answered +with chilling decision. + +"All right," and he went to the hat-rack to get his muffler and cap, +preparatory to again facing the storm. + +The snow had been falling steadily all day. Drifting almost to the +height of the kitchen window, it whirled about the house and beat +against the window panes with a muffled sound that was inexpressibly +dreary to the girl, who felt herself the center of all this pitiful +human contention. + +"David, David; where have you been all day, and where are you going +now?" His mother looked at his gray, haggard face and tried to guess +his hidden trouble, the first he had ever kept from her. + +"Mother, I am not a child, and you can't expect me to hang about the +stove like a cat, all my life." It was his first harsh word to her and +she shrank before it as if it had been a blow. David, her boy, to +speak to her like that! She turned quickly away to hide the tears, the +first she had ever shed on his account. + +"Here, Anna," she said, struggling to recover her composure, "take this +bucket and get it filled for me, please." + +The girl reached for her cloak that hung on a peg near the door. + +"No, Anna, you shall not go out for water a night like this; it's not +the work for you to do." David had sprung forward and caught the +bucket from her hand and plunged with it into the storm. Kate's quick +eyes caught the expression of David's face--while Mrs. Bartlett only +heard his words. She gave Anna a searching look as she said: "So it is +you whom David loves." At last Kate understood the secret of Anna's +distracted face--and at last the mother understood the secret of her +boy's moodiness--he loved Anna. And her heart was filled with +bitterness and anger at the very thought; she had taken her boy, this +stranger, with whom the tongue of scandal was busy. The kindly, +gentle, old face lost all its sweetness; jealous anger filled it with +ugly lines. Turning to Anna she said: + +"It would have been better for all of us if we had not taken you in +that day to break up our home with your mischief." + +Anna was cut to the quick. "Oh, Mrs. Bartlett, please do not say that; +I will go away as soon as you like, but it is not with my consent that +David has these foolish fancies about me." + +"And do you mean to say that you have never encouraged him," +indignantly demanded the irate mother, who with true feminine +inconsistency would not have her boy's affections go begging, even +while she scorned the object of it. + +"Encouraged him? I have begged, entreated him to let me alone; I do +not want his love." + +An angry sparrow defending her brood could not have been more +indignantly demonstrative than this gentle old lady. + +"And isn't he good enough for you, Miss?" she asked in a voice that +shook with wrath. + +"Dear Mrs. Bartlett, would you have me take his love and return it?" + +"No, no; that would never do!" and the inconsistent old soul rocked +herself to and fro in an agony of despair. + +Anna did not resent Mrs. Bartlett's indignation, unjust though it was; +she knew how blind good mothers could be when the happiness of their +children is at stake. She felt only pity for her and remembered only +her kindness. So slipping down on her knees beside the old lady's +chair, she took the toil-worn old hands in her own and said: + +"Do not think hardly of me, Mrs. Bartlett. You have been so good--and +when I am gone, I want you to think of me with affection. I will go +away, and all this trouble will straighten itself out, and you will +forget that I ever caused you a moment's pain." + +Dave came in with the bucket of water that had caused the little squall +and prevented his mother from replying, but the hard lines had relaxed +in the good old face. She was again "mother" whom they all knew and +loved. Sanderson followed close after David; he had just come from +Boston, he said, and inquired for Kate with a simple directness that +left no doubt as to whom he had come to see. + +It is an indisputable law of the eternal feminine for all women to +flaunt a conquest in the face of the man who had declined their +affection. Kate was not in love with her cousin David, but she was +devoutly thankful to Providence that there was a Lennox Sanderson to +flaunt before him in the capacity of tame cat, and prove that he "was +not the only man in the world," as she put it to herself. + +Therefore when Lennox Sanderson handed her a magnificent bunch of +Jacqueminot roses that he had brought her from Boston, Kate was not at +all backward in rewarding Sanderson with her graciousness. + +"How beautiful they are, Mr. Sanderson; it was so good of you." + +"You make me very happy by taking them," he answered with a wealth of +meaning. + +Anna, who had gone to the storeroom for some apples, after her +reconciliation with Mrs. Bartlett, returned to find Sanderson talking +earnestly to Kate by the window. Kate held up the roses for Anna to +smell. "Aren't they lovely, Anna? There is nothing like roses for +taking the edge off a snowstorm." + +Anna was forced to go through the farce of admiring them, while +Sanderson looked on with nicely concealed amusement. + +"Well, what do you think of them, Anna?" said Kate, disappointed that +she made no comment. + +"The best thing about roses, speaking generally, Miss Kate, is that +they fade quickly and do not embarrass one by outliving the little +affairs in which they have played a part." She returned Sanderson's +languid glance in a way that made him quail. + +"That is quite true," said Kate, being in the humor for a little +cynicism. "What a pity that love letters can't be constructed on the +same principle." + +Sanderson did not feel particularly at ease while these two young women +served and returned cynicism; he was accordingly much relieved when +Mrs. Bartlett and Anna both left the room, intent on the solemn +ceremony of opening a new supply of preserved peaches. + +"Kate, did you mean what you just said to that girl?" Sanderson asked +when they were alone. + +"What did I say? Oh, yes, about the love letters. Well, what +difference does it make whether I meant it or not?" + +"It makes all the difference in the world to me, Kate." He read +refusal in the big blue eyes, and he made haste to plead his cause +before she could say anything. + +"Don't answer yet, Kate; don't give me my life-sentence," he said +playfully, taking her hand. "Think it over; take as long as you like. +Hope with you is better than certainty with any other woman." + +[Illustration: Lillian Gish and Burr McIntosh.] + +Professor Sterling, who had been to a neighboring town on business for +the past two or three days, walked into the middle of this little +tableau in time to hear the last sentence. Kate and Sanderson had +failed to hear him, partly because he had neglected to remove his +overshoes, and partly because they were deeply engrossed with each +other. + +Though his rival's declaration, which he had every reason to suppose +would be accepted, was the death blow to his hopes, yet he unselfishly +stepped out into the snow, waited five minutes by his watch--a liberal +allowance for an acceptance, he considered--and then rapped loud and +theatrically before entering a second time. Could unselfishness go +further? + +Kate and Sanderson had no other opportunity for confidential talk that +evening. + +They were barely seated about the supper table, when there came a +tremendous rapping at the door, and Marthy Perkins came in, half +frozen. For once her voluble tongue was silenced. She retailed no +gossip while submitting to the friendly ministrations of Mrs. Bartlett +and Anna, who chafed her hands, gave her hot tea and thawed her back to +life--and gossip. + +"Is the Squire back yet?" asked Marthy with returning warmth. "Land +sakes, what can be keeping him? Heard him say last night that he +intended going away this morning, and thought he might have come back." + +"With news?" naively asked Sanderson. + +"Why, yes. I did think it was likely that he might have gathered up +something interesting, away a whole day." Every one laughed but Mrs. +Bartlett. She alone knew the object of her husband's quest. + +"Your father's not likely to be back to-night--do you think so, Dave?" +she asked her son, more by way of drawing him out than in the hope of +getting any real information. + +"No, I do not think it is likely, mother," he answered. + +"Good land! and I nearly froze to death getting here!" Marthy said in +an aside to Mrs. Bartlett. "I tell you, Looizy, there is nothing like +suspense for wearing you out. I couldn't get a lick of sewing done +to-day, waiting for Amasy to get in with the news." + +"Hallo! hallo! Let us in quick--here we are, me and the Squire--most +froze! Hallo, hallo"--The rest of Hi's remarks were a series of whoops. + +Every one rose from the table, Mrs. Bartlett pale with apprehension. +Marthy flushed with delight. She was not to be balked of her prey. +The Squire was here with the news. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +ALONE IN THE SNOW. + + + "The cold winds swept the mountain-height, + And pathless was the dreary wild, + And mid the cheerless hours of night + A mother wandered with her child: + As through the drifting snows she pressed, + The babe was sleeping on her breast."--_Seba Smith_. + + +The head of the house was home from his mysterious errand, the real +object of which was unknown to all but Marthy and his wife. + +Kate unwound his muffler and took his cap; his wife assured him that +she had been worried to death about him all day; the men inquired +solicitously about his journey--how had he stood the cold--and Anna +made ready his place at the table. But neither this domestic adulation +nor the atmosphere of warmth and affection awaiting him at his own +fireside served for a moment to turn him from the wanton brutality that +he was pleased to dignify by the name of duty. + +Anna could not help feeling the "snub," and David, whose eyes always +followed Anna, saw it before the others. "Father," said he, "what's +the matter, you don't speak to Anna." + +"I don't want to speak to her. I don't want to look at her. I don't +want anything to do with her," replied the Squire. Every one except +Martha and Mrs. Bartlett was startled by this blunt, almost brutal +outburst. + +"I am glad you are all here, the more the better: Marthy, Professor, +Mr. Sanderson, glad to see you and all the home folks"--he had a word, +a nod, a pat on the back for every one but Anna, and though she sought +more than one opportunity to speak to him, he deliberately avoided her. + +His wife, who knew all the varying weathers of his temper was using all +her small stock of diplomacy to get him to eat his supper. "When in +doubt about a man, feed him," had been Louisa Bartlett's unfailing rule +for the last thirty years. "Here, Amasy, sit down in your place that +Anna has fixed for you. You can talk after you've had your tea. Anna, +please make the Squire some fresh tea. I'm afraid this is a little +cool." + +"She need not make my tea, now, or on any future occasion--her days of +service in my family are done for." And he hammered the table with his +clenched fist. + +Anna closed her eyes; it had come at last; she had always known that it +was only a question of time. + +The rest looked at the Squire dumbfounded. Ah, that is, but Marthy. +She was licking her lips in delightful anticipation--with much the same +expression as a cat would regard an uncaged canary. + +"Why, father, what do you mean?" asked David in amazement. He had +heard no rumor of why his father had gone to Belden. + +"Now, listen, all of you," and again he thundered on the table with his +fist. "Last summer I was persuaded, against my will, to take a strange +woman into my house. I found out to-day that my judgment then was +right. I have been imposed on--she is an imposter, an adventuress." + +"Amasy, Amasy, don't be so hard on her," pleaded his wife. But the +Squire had the true huntsman's instinct--when he went out to hunt, he +went out to kill. + +"The time has come," he continued, raising his voice and ignoring his +wife's pleading, "when this home is better without her." + +Anna had already begun her preparation to go. She took her cloak down +from its peg and wrapped it about her without a word. + +"Father, if Anna goes, I go with her," and David rose to his feet, the +very incarnation of wrath, and strode over to where Anna stood apart +from the rest. He put his arm about her protectingly, and stood there +defiant of them all. + +"David, you must be mad. What, you, a son of mine, defy your father +here in the presence of your friends for that--adventuress?" + +"Father, take back that word about Anna. A better woman never lived. +You--who call yourself a Christian--would you send away a friendless +girl a night like this? And for what reason? Because a few old cats +have been gossiping about her. It is unworthy of you, father; I would +not have believed it." + +"So you have appointed yourself her champion, sir. No doubt she has +been trying her arts on you. Don't be a fool, David; stand aside, if +she wants to go, let her; women like her can look out for themselves; +let her go." + +"Don't make me forget, sir, that you are my father. I refuse +absolutely to hear the woman I love spoken of in this way." + +The rest looked on in painful silence; they seemed to be deprived of +the power of speech or action by the Squire's vehemence; the wind +howled about the house fitfully, and was still, then resumed its +wailing grief. + +"And you stand there and defy me for that woman in the presence of +Kate, to whom you are as good as betrothed?" + +"No, no; there is no question of an engagement between David and me, +and there never can be," said Kate, not knowing in the least what to +make of the turn that things had taken. + +David continued to stand with his arm about Anna. He had heard the +Belden gossip--a wealthy young man from Boston had been attentive to +her, then left the place; jilted her, some said; been refused by her, +said others. It did not make a bit of difference to David which +version was true; he was ready to stand by Anna in the face of a +thousand gossips. This was just his father's brutal way of upholding +what he was pleased to term his authority. + +"What do you know about her, David?" reiterated the Squire. "I heard +reports, but like you, I would not believe them till I had investigated +them fully. Ask her if she has not been the mother of an illegitimate +child, who is now buried in the Episcopal cemetery at Belden--ask her +if she was not known there under the name of Mrs. Lennox?" + +"It is true," said the girl, raising her head, "that I was known as +Mrs. Lennox. It is true that I have a child buried in Belden----" + +David's arm fell from her, he buried his face in his hands and groaned. +Anna opened the door, a whirling gust flared the lamps and drove a +skurrying cloud of snowflakes within, yet not one hand was raised to +detain her. She swayed uncertain for a moment on the threshold, then +turned to them: "You have hunted me down, you have found out that I +have been a mother, that I am without the protection of a husband's +name, and that was enough for you--your duty stopped at the scandal. +Why did you not find out that I was a young, inexperienced girl who was +betrayed by a mock marriage--that I thought myself an honorable +wife--why should your duty stop in hunting down a defenseless girl +while the man who ruined her life sits there, a welcome guest in your +house to-night?" + +She was gone--David, who had been stunned by his father's words, ran +after her, but the whirling flakes had hidden every trace of her, and +the howling wind drove back his cry of "Anna, Anna! come back!" + +Anna did not feel the cold after closing the door between her and the +Squire's family; the white flame of her wrath seemed to burn up the +blood in her veins, as she plunged through the snowdrifts, unconscious +of the cold and storm. She had no words in which to formulate her fury +at the indignity of her treatment. Her native sweetness, for the +moment, had been extinguished and she was but the incarnation of +wronged womanhood, crying aloud to high Heaven for justice. + +The blood throbbed at her brain and the quickened circulation warmed +her till she loosened the cloak at her throat and wondered, in a dazed +sort of way, why she had put it on on such a stifling night. Then she +remembered the snow and eagerly uplifted her flushed cheeks that the +falling flakes might cool them. + +But of the icy grip of the storm she was wholly unconscious. There was +a mad exhilaration in facing the wild elements on such a night, the +exertion of forcing through the storm chimed in with her mood; each +snowdrift through which she fought her way was so much cruel injustice +beaten down. She felt that she had the strength and courage to walk to +the end of the earth and she went on and on, never thinking of the +storm, or her destination, or where she would rest that night. Her +head felt light, as if she had been drinking wine, and more than once +she stopped to mop the perspiration from her forehead. How absurd for +the snow to fall on such a sultry night, and foolish of those people +who had turned her out to die, thinking it was cold--the thermometer +must be 100. She paused to get her breath; a blast of icy wind caught +her cape, and almost succeeded in robbing her of it, and the chill +wrestled with the fever that was consuming her, and she realized for +the first time that it was cold. + +"Well, what next?" she asked herself, throwing back her head and +unconsciously assuming the attitude of a creature brought to bay but +still unconquered. + +"What next?" She repeated it with the dull despair of one who has +nothing further to fear in the way of suffering. The Fates had spent +themselves on her, she no longer had the power to respond. Suppose she +should become lost in a snowdrift? "Well, what did it matter?" + +Then came one of those unaccountable clearings of the mental vision +that nature seems to reserve for the final chapter. Her quickened +brain grasped the tragedy of her life as it never had before. She saw +it with impersonal eyes. Anna Moore was a stranger on whose case she +could sit with unbiased judgment. Her mind swung back to the football +game in the golden autumn eighteen months ago, and she heard the cheers +and saw the swarms of eager, upturned faces and the dots of blue and +crimson, like flowers, in a great waving field. What a panorama of +life, and force, and struggle it had been! How typical of life, and +the end--but no, the end was not yet; there must be some justice in +life, some law of compensation. God must hear at last! + +The wind came tearing down from, the pine forest, surging through the +hills till it became a roar. Ah, it had sounded like that at the game. +They had called "Rah, Rah Sanderson" till they were hoarse, "Sanderson, +Rah! Sander-son! Rah! Rah!" The crackling forest seemed to have +gone mad with the echo of his name. It had become the keynote of the +wind. Rah! Rah! Sanderson! + +"You can't escape him even in death" something seemed to whisper in her +ear. "Ha-ha, Sanderson, San-der-son." She put her hands to her ears +to shut out the hateful sound, but she heard it, like the wail of a +lost soul; this time faint and far off: Sander-son--San-der-son. It +was above her in the groaning, creaking branches of the trees, in the +falling snow, in the whipping wind, the mockery would not be stilled. + +Ha, ha, ha, ha, howled the wind, then sinking to a sigh, +San-der-son--San-der-son. + +The cold had begun to strike into the marrow. She moved as if her +limbs were weighted. There was a mist gathering before her eyes, and +she put up her hand and tried to brush it away, but it remained. She +felt as if she were carrying something heavy in her arms and as she +walked it grew heavier and heavier. To her wandering mind it took a +pitifully familiar shape. Ah, yes! She knew what it was now; it was +the baby, and she must not let it get cold. She must cover it with her +cape and press it close to her bosom to keep it warm, but it was so +far, so far, and it was getting heavier every moment. + +And the wind continued to wail its dirge of "San-der-son, San-der-son." +She went through the motion of covering up the baby's head; she did not +want it to waken and hear that awful cry. She lifted up her empty arms +and lowered her head to soothe the imaginary baby with a kiss, and was +shocked to feel how cold its little cheek had grown. She hurried on +and on. She would beg the Squire to let his wife take it in for just a +minute, to warm it. She would not ask to come in herself, but the +baby--no one would be so cruel as to refuse her that. It would die out +here in the cold and the storm. It was so cruel, so hard to be +wandering about on a night like this with the baby. Her eyes began to +fill with tears, and her lower lip to quiver, but she plodded on, +sometimes gaining a few steps and then retracing them, but always with +the same instinct that had spurred her on to efforts beyond her +strength, and this done, she had no further concern for herself. Her +body especially, where the cape did not protect it against the blast, +was freezing, shivering, aching all over. A latent consciousness began +to dawn as the dread presence of death drew nearer; some intuitive +effort of preservation asserted itself, and she kept repeating over and +over: "I must not give up. I must not give up." + +Presently the scene began to change, and the white formless world about +her began to assume definite shape. She had seen it all before, the +bare trees pointing their naked branches upward, the fringe of willows, +the smooth, glassy sheet of water that was partly frozen and partly +undulating toward the southern shore. The familiarity of it all began +to haunt her. Had she dreamed it--was she dreaming now? Perhaps it +was only a dream after all! Then, as if in a wave of clear thought, +she remembered it all. It was the lake, and she had been there with +the Sunday school children last summer on their picnic. + +It came to her like a solution of all her troubles; it was so placid, +so still, so cold. A moment and all would be forgotten. She stood +with one foot on the creaking ice. It was but to walk a dozen steps to +the place where the ice was but a crash of crystal and that would end +it all. She was so weary of the eternal strife of things, she was so +glad to lay down the burden under which her back was bending to the +point of breaking. + +And yet, there was the primitive instinct of self-preservation +combating her inclination, urging her on to make one more final effort. +Back and forth, through the snow about the lake she wandered; without +being able to decide. Her strength was fast ebbing. Which--which, +should it be? "God have mercy!" she cried, and fell unconscious. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE NIGHT IN THE SNOWSTORM. + + + "Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, + Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, + Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air + Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven."--_Emerson_. + + +All through that long, wild night David searched and shouted, to find +only snow and silence. + +Through the darkness and the falling flakes he could not see more than +a foot ahead, and when he would stumble over a stone or the fallen +trunk of a tree, he would stoop down and search through the drifts with +his bare hands, thinking perhaps that she might have fallen, and not +finding her, he would again take up his fruitless search, while cold +fear gnawed at his heart. + +At home in the warm farm house, sat the Squire who had done his duty. +The consciousness of having done it, however, did not fill him with +that cheerful glow of righteousness that is the reward of a good +conscience--on the contrary, he felt small. It might have been +imagination, but he felt, somehow, as if his wife and Kate were +shunning him. Once he had tried to take his wife's hand as she stood +with her face pressed to the window trying to see if she could make out +the dim outline of David returning with Anna, but she withdrew her hand +impatiently as she had never done in the thirty years of their married +life. Amasy's hardness was a thing no longer to be condoned. + +Furthermore, when the clock had struck eleven and then twelve, and yet +no sign of David or Anna, the Squire had reached for his fur cap and +announced his intention of "going to look for 'em." But like the +proverbial worm, the wife of his bosom had turned, and with all the +determination of a white rabbit she announced: + +"If I was you, Amasy, I'd stay to hum; seems as if you had made almost +enough trouble for one day." With the old habit of authority, strong +as ever, he looked at the worm, but there was a light in its eyes that +warned him as a danger signal. + +They were alone together, the Squire and his wife, and each was alone +in sorrow, the yoke of severity she had bowed beneath for thirty years +uncomplainingly galled to-night. It had sent her boy out into the +storm--perhaps to his death. There was little love in her heart for +Amasy. + +He tried to think that he had only done his duty, that David and Anna +would come back, and that, in the meantime, Louisa was less a comfort +to him, in his trouble, than she had ever been before. It was, of +course, his trouble; it never occurred to him that Louisa's heart might +have been breaking on its own account. + +The Squire found that duty was a cold comforter as the wretched hours +wore on. + +Sanderson had slunk from the house without a word immediately after +Anna's departure. In the general upheaval no one missed him, and when +they did it was too late for them to enjoy the comfort of shifting the +blame to his guilty shoulders. + +The professor followed Kate with the mute sympathy of a faithful dog; +he did not dare attempt to comfort her. The sight of a woman in tears +unnerved him; he would not have dared to intrude on her grief; he could +only wait patiently for some circumstance to arise in which he could be +of assistance. In the meantime he did the only practical thing within +his power--he went about from time to time, poked the fires and put on +coal. + +Marthy would have liked to discuss the iniquity of Lennox Sanderson +with any one--it was a subject on which she could have spent hours--but +no one seemed inclined to divert Marthy conversationally. In fact, her +popularity was not greater that night in the household than that of the +Squire. She spent her time in running from room to room, exclaiming +hysterically: + +"Land sakes! Ain't it dreadful?" + +The tension grew as time wore on without developments of any kind, the +waiting with the haunting fear of the worst grew harder to bear than +absolute calamity. + +Toward five o'clock the Squire announced his intention of going out and +continuing the search, and this time no one objected. In fact, Mrs. +Bartlett, Kate and the professor insisted on accompanying him and +Marthy decided to go, too, not only that she might be able to say she +was on hand in case of interesting developments, but because she was +afraid to be left in the house alone. + + * * * * * * + +Toward morning, David, spent and haggard, wandered into a little +maple-sugar shed that belonged to one of the neighbors. Smoke was +coming out of the chimney, and David entered, hoping that Anna might +have found here a refuge. + +He was quickly undeceived, however, for Lennox Sanderson stood by the +hearth warming his hands. The men glared at each other with the +instinctive fierceness of panthers. Not a word was spoken; each knew +that the language of fists could be the only medium of communication +between them; and each was anxious to have his say out. + +The men faced each other in silence, the flickering glare of the +firelight painting grotesque expressions on their set faces. David's +greater bulk loomed unnaturally large in the uncertain light, while +every trained muscle of Sanderson's athletic body was on the alert. + +It was the world old struggle between patrician and proletarian. + +Sanderson was an all-round athlete and a boxer of no mean order. This +was not his first battle. His quick eye showed him from David's +awkward attitude, that his opponent was in no way his equal from a +scientific standpoint. He looked for the easy victory that science, +nine times out of ten, can wrest from unskilled brute force. + +For, perhaps, half a minute the combatants stood thus. + +Then, with lowered head and outstretched arms, David rushed in. + +Sanderson side-stepped, avoiding the on-set. Before David could +recover himself, the other had sent his left fist crashing into the +country-man's face. + +The blow was delivered with all the trained force the athlete possessed +and sent David reeling against the rough wall of the house. + +Such a blow would have ended the fight then and there for an ordinary +man; but it only served to rouse David's sluggish blood to white heat. + +Again he rushed. + +This time he was more successful. + +True, Sanderson partially succeeded in avoiding the sledge-hammer fist, +though it missed his head, it struck glancingly on the left shoulder. +numbing for the moment the whole arm. Sanderson countered as the blow +fell, by bringing his right arm up with all his force and striking +David on the face. He sank to his knees, like a wounded bull, but was +on his feet again before Sanderson could follow up his advantage. + +David, heedless of the pain and fast flowing blood, rushed a third +time, catching Sanderson in a corner of the room whence he could not +escape. + +In an instant, the two were locked in a death-like grip. + +To and fro they reeled. No sound could be heard save the snapping of +brands on the hearth, the shuffle of moving feet and the short gasps of +struggling men. + +In that terrible grasp, Sanderson's strength was as a child's. + +He could not call into play any of the wrestling tricks that were his, +all he could do was to keep his feet and wait for the madman's strength +to expend itself. + +The iron grip about his body seemed to slacken for a moment. He +wriggled free, and caught the fatal underhold. + +By this new grip, he forced David's body backward till the larger man's +spine bade fair to snap. + +David felt himself caught in a trap. Exerting all his giant strength +he forced one arm down between their close-locked bodies, and clasped +his other hand on Sanderson's face, pushing two fingers into his +eyeballs. + +No man can endure this torture. Sanderson loosed his hold. David had +caught him by the right wrist and the left knee, stooping until his own +shoulders were under the other's thigh. Then, with this leverage, he +whirled Sanderson high in the air above his head and threw him with all +his force down upon the hearth. + +A shower of sparks arose and the strong smell of burning clothes, as +Sanderson, stunned and helpless, lay across the blazing fire-place. + +For a moment, David thought to leave his vanquished foe to his own +fate, then he turned back. What was the use? It could not right the +wrong he had done to Anna. He bent over Sanderson, extinguished the +fire, pulled the unconscious man to the open door and left him. + +It came to David like an inspiration that he had not thought of the +lake; the ice was thin on the southern shore below where the river +emptied. Suppose she had gone there; suppose in her utter desolation +she had gone there to end it all? Imagination, quickened by suspense +and suffering, ran to meet calamity; already he was there and saw the +bare trees, bearing their burden of snow, and the placid surface, half +frozen over, and on the southern shore, that faintly rippled under its +skimming of ice, something dark floating. He saw the floating black +hair, and the dead eyes, open, as if in accusation of the grim +injustice of it all. + +He hurried through the drifted snow, as fast as his spent strength +would permit, stumbling once or twice over some obstruction, and +covered the weary distance to the lake. + +About a hundred yards from the lake Dave saw something that made his +heart knock against his ribs and his breath come short, as if he had +been running. It was Anna's gray cloak. It lay spread out on the snow +as if it had been discarded hastily; there were footprints of a woman's +shoes near by; some of them leading toward the lake, others away from +it, as if she might have come and her courage failed her at the last +moment. The cape had not the faintest trace of snow on its upturned +surface. It must, therefore, have been discarded lately, after the +snowstorm had ceased this morning. + +Dave continued his search in an agony of apprehension. The sun faintly +struggled with the mass of gray cloud, revealing a world of white. He +had wandered in the direction of a clump of cedars, and remembered +pointing the place out to her in the autumn as the scene of some boyish +adventure, which to commemorate he had cut his name on one of the +trees. Association, more than any hope of finding her, led him to the +cedars--and she was there. She had fallen, apparently, from cold and +exhaustion. He bent down close to the white, still face that gave no +sign of life. He called her name, he kissed her, but there was no +response--it was too late. + +Dave looked at the little figure prostrate in the snow, and despair for +a time deprived him of all thought. Then the lifelong habit of being +practical asserted itself. Unconsciousness from long exposure to cold, +he knew, resembled death, but warmth and care would often revive the +fluttering spark. If there was a chance in a thousand, Dave was +prepared to fight the world for it. + +He lifted Anna tenderly and started back for the shed where he had +fought Sanderson. Frail as she was, it seemed to him, as he plunged +through the drifts, that his strength would never hold out till they +reached their destination. Inch by inch he struggled for every step of +the way, and the sweat dripped from him as if it had been August. But +he was more than rewarded, for once. She opened her eyes--she was not +dead. + +He found them all at the shed--the Squire, his mother, Kate, the +professor and Marthy. There was no time for questions or speeches. +Every one bent with a will toward the common object of restoring Anna. +The professor ran for the doctor, the women chafed the icy hands and +feet and the Squire built up a roaring fire. Their efforts were +finally rewarded and the big brown eyes opened and turned inquiringly +from one to another. + +"What has happened? Why are you all here?" she asked faintly; then +remembering, she wailed: "Oh, why did you bring me back? I went to the +lake, but it was so cold I could not throw myself in; then I walked +about till almost sunrise, and I was so tired that I laid down by the +cedars to sleep--why did you wake me?" + +"Anna," said the Squire, "we want you to forgive us and come back as +our daughter," and he slipped her cold little hand in David's. "This +boy has been looking for you all night, Anna. I thought maybe he had +been taken from us to punish me for my hardness. But, thank God, you +are both safe." + +"You will, Anna, won't you? and father will give us his blessing." She +smiled her assent. + +"I say, Squire, if you are giving out blessings, don't pass by Kate and +me." + +In the general kissing and congratulation that followed, Hi Holler +appeared. "Here's the sleigh, I thought maybe you'd all be ready for +breakfast. Hallo, Anna, so he found you! The station agent told me +that Mr. Sanderson left on the first train for Boston this morning. +Says he ain't never coming back." + +"And a good thing he ain't," snapped Marthy Perkins--"after all the +trouble he's made." + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Way Down East, by Joseph R. Grismer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'WAY DOWN EAST *** + +***** This file should be named 16959-8.txt or 16959-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/9/5/16959/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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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Grismer + +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: 'Way Down East + A Romance of New England Life + +Author: Joseph R. Grismer + +Release Date: October 28, 2005 [EBook #16959] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'WAY DOWN EAST *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Miss Lillian Gish as Anna Moore." BORDER="2" WIDTH="381" HEIGHT="626"> +<H4> +[Frontispiece: Miss Lillian Gish as Anna Moore.<BR> +D. W. Griffith's Production. 'Way Down East.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +'WAY DOWN EAST +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A ROMANCE OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +JOSEPH R. GRISMER +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +Founded on the Very Successful Play of the +<BR><BR> +Same Title by +<BR><BR> +LOTTIE BLAIR PARKER +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM<BR> +D. W. GRIFFITH'S MAGNIFICENT<BR> +MOTION PICTURE PRODUCTION OF THE<BR> +ORIGINAL STORY AND STAGE PLAY +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +<BR><BR> +PUBLISHERS ——————— NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +<I>Copyright, 1900</I> +<BR><BR> +<I>By Joseph R. Grismer</I> +<BR><BR><BR> +<I>'Way Down East</I> +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TABLE OF CONTENTS +</H3> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">All Hail to the Conquering Hero.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">The Conquering Hero is Disposed to be Human.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">Containing Some Reflections and <BR>the Entrance of Mephistopheles.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">The Mock Marriage.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">A Little Glimpse of the Garden of Eden.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">The Ways of Desolation.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">Mother and Daughter.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">In Days of Waiting.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">On the Threshold of Shelter.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">Anna and Sanderson Again Meet.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">Rustic Hospitality.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">Kate Brewster Holds Sanderson's Attention.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">The Quality of Mercy.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">The Village Gossip Sniffs Scandal.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">David Confesses his Love.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">Alone in the Snow.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">The Night in the Snowstorm.</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +Miss Lillian Gish as Anna Moore…… <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-088"> +Martha Perkins and Maria Poole. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-136"> +Martha Perkins tells the story of Anna Moore's past life. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-160"> +Lillian Gish and Burr McIntosh. +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +WAY DOWN EAST +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ALL HAIL TO THE CONQUERING HERO. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Methinks I feel this youth's perfections,<BR> +With an invisible and subtle stealth,<BR> +To creep in at mine eyes.—<I>Shakespeare</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It had come at last, the day of days, for the two great American +universities; Harvard and Yale were going to play their annual game of +football and the railroad station of Springfield, Mass., momentarily +became more and more thronged with eager partisans of both sides of the +great athletic contest. +</P> + +<P> +All the morning trains from New York, New Haven, Boston and the smaller +towns had been pouring their loads into Springfield. Hampden Park was +a sea of eager faces. The weather was fine and the waiting for the +football game only added to the enjoyment—the appetizer before the +feast. +</P> + +<P> +The north side of the park was a crimson dotted mass full ten thousand +strong; the south side showed the same goodly number blue-bespeckled, +and equally confident. Little ripples of applause woke along the banks +as the familiar faces of old "grads" loomed up, then melted into the +vast throng. These, too, were men of international reputation who had +won their spurs in the great battles of life, and yet, who came back +year after year, to assist by applause in these mimic battles of their +<I>Alma Mater</I>. +</P> + +<P> +But the real inspiration to the contestants, were the softer, sweeter +faces scattered among the more rugged ones like flowers growing among +the grain—the smiles, the mantling glow of round young cheeks, the +clapping of little hands—these were the things that made broken +collarbones, scratched faces, and bruised limbs but so many honors to +be contended for, votive offerings to be laid at the little feet of +these fair ones. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Standish Tremont's party occupied, as usual, a prominent place on +the Harvard side. She was so great a factor in the social life at +Cambridge that no function could have been a complete success without +the stimulus of her presence. Personally, Mrs. Standish Tremont was +one of those women who never grow old; one would no more have thought +of hazarding a guess about her age than one would have made a similar +calculation about the Goddess of Liberty. She was perennially young, +perennially good-looking, and her entertainments were above reproach. +Some sour old "Grannies" in Boston, who had neither her wit, nor her +health, called her Venus Anno Domino, but they were jealous and cynical +and their testimony cannot be taken as reliable. +</P> + +<P> +What if she had been splitting gloves applauding college games since +the fathers of to-day's contestants had fought and struggled for +similar honors in this very field. She applauded with such vim, and +she gave such delightful dinners afterward, that for the glory of old +Harvard it is to be hoped she will continue to applaud and entertain +the grandsons of to-day's victors, even as she had their sires. +</P> + +<P> +It was said by the uncharitable that the secret of the lady's youth was +the fact that she always surrounded herself with young people, their +pleasure, interests, entertainments were hers; she never permitted +herself to be identified with older people. +</P> + +<P> +To-day, besides several young men who had been out of college for a +year or two, she had her husband's two nieces, the Misses Tremont, +young women well known in Boston's inner circles, her own daughter, a +Mrs. Endicott, a widow, and a very beautiful young girl whom she +introduced as "My cousin, Miss Moore." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Moore was the recipient of more attention than she could well +handle. Mrs. Tremont's cavaliers tried to inveigle her into betting +gloves and bon-bons; they reserved their wittiest replica for her, they +were her ardent allies in all the merry badinage with which their party +whiled away the time waiting for the game to begin. Miss Moore was +getting enough attention to turn the heads of three girls. +</P> + +<P> +At least, that was what her chaperone concluded as she skilfully +concealed her dissatisfaction with a radiant smile. She liked girls to +achieve social success when they were under her wing—it was the next +best thing to scoring success on her own account. But, it was quite a +different matter to invite a poor relation half out of charity, half +out of pity, and then have her outshine one's own daughter, and one's +nieces—the latter being her particular protégés—girls whom she hoped +to assist toward brilliant establishments. The thought was a +disquieting one, the men of their party had been making idiots of +themselves over the girl ever since they left Boston; it was all very +well to be kind to one's poor kin—but charity began at home when there +were girls who had been out three seasons! What was it, that made the +men lose their heads like so many sheep? She adjusted her lorgnette +and again took an inventory of the girl's appearance. It was eminently +satisfactory even when viewed from the critical standard of Mrs. +Standish Tremont. A delicately oval face, with low smooth brow, from +which the night-black hair rippled in softly crested waves and clung +about the temples in tiny circling ringlets, delicate as the faintest +shading of a crayon pencil. Heavily fringed lids that lent mysterious +depths to the great brown eyes that were sorrowful beyond their years. +A mouth made for kisses—a perfect Cupid's bow; in color, the red of +the pomegranate—such was Anna Moore, the great lady's young kinswoman, +who was getting her first glimpse of the world this autumn afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +"You were born to be a Harvard girl, Miss Moore, the crimson becomes +you go perfectly, that great bunch of Jacqueminots is just what you +need to bring out the color in your cheeks," said Arnold Lester, rather +an old beau, and one of Mrs. Endicott's devoted cavaliers. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Moore is making her roses pale with envy," gallantly answered +Robert Maynard. He had not been able to take his eyes from the girl's +face since he met her. +</P> + +<P> +Anna looked down at her roses and smiled. Her gown and gloves were +black. The great fragrant bunch was the only suggestion of color that +she had worn for over a year. She was still in mourning for her +father, one of the first great financial magnates to go under in the +last Wall Street crash. His failure killed him, and the young daughter +and the invalid wife were left practically unprovided for. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Tremont could hardly conceal her annoyance. She had met her young +cousin for the first time the preceding summer and taking a fancy to +her; she exacted a promise from the girl's mother that Anna should pay +her a visit the following autumn. But she reckoned without the girl's +beauty and the havoc it would make with her plans. The discussion as +to the roses outvieing Anna's cheeks in color was abruptly terminated +by a great cheer that rolled simultaneously along both sides of the +field as the two teams entered the lists. Cheer upon cheer went up, +swelled and grew in volume, only to be taken up again and again, till +the sound became one vast echoing roar without apparent end or +beginning. +</P> + +<P> +From the moment the teams appeared, Anna Moore had no eyes or ears for +sights or sounds about her. Every muscle in her lithe young body was +strained to catch a glimpse of one familiar figure. She had little +difficulty in singling him out from the rest. He had stripped off his +sweater and stood with head well down, his great limbs tense, straining +for the word to spring. Anna's breath came quickly, as if she had been +running, the roses that he had sent her heaved with the tumult in her +breast. It seemed to her as if she must cry out with the delight of +seeing him again. +</P> + +<P> +"Look, Grace," said Mrs. Standish Tremont, to the younger of her +nieces, "there is Lennox Sanderson." +</P> + +<P> +"Play!" called the referee, and at the word the Harvard wedge shot +forward and crashed into the onrushing mass of blue-legged bodies. The +mimic war was on, and raged with all the excitement of real battle for +the next three-quarters of an hour; the center was pierced, the flanks +were turned, columns were formed and broken, weak spots were protected, +all the tactics of the science of arms was employed, and yet, neither +side could gain an advantage. +</P> + +<P> +The last minutes of the first half of the game were spent +desperately—Kenneth, the terrible line breaker of Yale, made two +famous charges, Lennox Sanderson, the famous flying half-back, secured +Harvard a temporary advantage by a magnificently supported run. +"Time!" called the referee, and the first half of the game was over. +</P> + +<P> +For fifteen minutes the combatants rested, then resumed their massing, +wedging and driving. Sanderson, who had not appeared to over-exert +himself during the first half of the game, gradually began to turn the +tide in favor of the crimson. After a decoy and a scrimmage, +Sanderson, with the ball wedged tightly under one arm, was seen flying +like a meteor, well covered by his supports. On he dashed at full +speed for the much-desired touch-line. The next minute he had reached +the goal and was buried under a pile of squirming bodies. +</P> + +<P> +Then did the Harvard hosts burst into one mighty and prolonged cheer +that made the air tremble. Sanderson was the hero of the hour. +Gray-haired old men jumped up and shouted his name with that of the +university. It was one mad pandemonium of excitement, till the game +was won, and the crowd woke up amid the "Rah, Rahs, Harvard, Sanderson." +</P> + +<P> +Anna's cheeks burned crimson. She clapped her hands to the final +destruction of her gloves. She patted the roses he had sent her. She +had never dreamed that life was so beautiful, so full of happiness. +</P> + +<P> +She saw him again for just a moment, before they left the park. He +came up to speak to them, with the sweat and grime of battle still upon +him, his hair flying in the breeze. The crowds gave way for the hero; +women gave him their brightest smiles; men involuntarily straightened +their shoulders in tribute to his inches. +</P> + +<P> +Years afterwards, it seemed to Anna, in looking back on the tragedy of +it all, that he had never looked so handsome, never been so absolutely +irresistible as on that autumn day when he had taken her hand and said: +"I couldn't help making that run with your eyes on me." +</P> + +<P> +"And we shall see you at tea, on Saturday?" asked Mrs. Tremont. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be delighted," he answered: "thank you for persuading Miss +Moore to stay over for another week." Mrs. Tremont smiled, she could +smile if she were on the rack; but she assured herself that she was +done with poverty-stricken beauties till Grace and Maud were married, +at least. For years she had been planning a match between Grace and +Lennox Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Anna and Sanderson exchanged looks. Robert Maynard bit his lips and +turned away. He realized that the dearest wish of his life was beyond +reach of it forever. "Ah, well," he murmured to himself—"who could +have a chance against Lennox Sanderson?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CONQUERING HERO IS DISPOSED TO BE HUMAN. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Her lips are roses over-wash'd with dew,<BR> +Or like the purple of narcissus' flower;<BR> +No frost their fair, no wind doth waste their powers,<BR> +But by her breath her beauties do renew."—<I>Robert Greene</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The dusk of an autumn afternoon was closing in on the well-filled +library of Mrs. Standish Tremont's Beacon street home. The last rays +of sunlight filtered softly through the rose silk curtains and blended +with the ruddy glow of fire-light. The atmosphere of this room was +more invitingly domestic than that of any other room in Mrs. Tremont's +somewhat bleakly luxurious home. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps it was the row upon row of books in their scarlet leather +bindings, perhaps it was the fine old collection of Dutch masterpieces, +portraying homely scenes from Dutch life, that robbed the air of the +chilling effect of the more formal rooms; but, whatever was the reason, +the fact remained that the library was the room in which to dream +dreams, appreciate comfort and be content. +</P> + +<P> +At least so it seemed to Anna Moore, as she glanced from time to time +at the tiny French clock that silently ticked away the hours on the +high oaken mantel-piece. Anna had dressed for tea with more than usual +care on this particular Saturday afternoon. She wore a simply made +house gown of heavy white cloth, that hung in rich folds about her +exquisite figure, that might have seemed over-developed in a girl of +eighteen, were it not for the long slender throat and tapering waist of +more than usual slenderness. +</P> + +<P> +The dark hair was coiled high on top of the shapely head, and a few +tendrils strayed about her neck and brow. She wore no ornaments—not +even the simplest pin. +</P> + +<P> +She was curled up in a great leather chair, in front of the open fire, +playing with a white angora kitten, who climbed upon her shoulder and +generally conducted himself like a white ball of animated yarn. It was +too bad that there was no painter at hand to transfer to canvas so +lovely a picture as this girl in her white frock made, sitting by the +firelight in this mellow old room, playing with a white imp of a +kitten. It would have made an ideal study in white and scarlet. +</P> + +<P> +How comfortable it all was; the book-lined walls, the repose and +dignity of this beautiful home, with its corps of well-trained servants +waiting to minister to one's lightest wants. The secure and sheltered +feeling that it gave appealed strongly to the girl, who but a little +while ago had enjoyed similar surroundings in her father's house. +</P> + +<P> +And then, there had been that awful day when her father's wealth had +vanished into air like a burst bubble, and he had come home with a +white drawn face and gone to bed, never again to rise from it. +</P> + +<P> +Anna did not mind the privations that followed on her own account, but +they were pitifully hard on her invalid mother, who had been used to +every comfort all her life. +</P> + +<P> +After they had left New York, they had taken a little cottage in +Waltham, Mass., and it was here that Mrs. Standish Tremont had come to +call on her relatives in their grief and do what she could toward +lightening their burdens. Anna was worn out with the constant care of +her mother, and would only consent to go away for a rest, because the +doctor told her that her health was surely breaking under the strain, +and that if she did not go, there would be two invalids instead of one. +</P> + +<P> +It was at Mrs. Tremont's that she had met Lennox Sanderson, and from +the first, both seemed to be under the influence of some subtle spell +that drew them together blindly, and without the consent of their +wills. Mrs. Tremont, who viewed the growing attraction of these two +young people with well-concealed alarm, watched every opportunity to +prevent their enjoying each other's society. It irritated her that one +of the wealthiest and most influential men in Harvard should take such +a fancy to her penniless young relative, instead of to Grace Tremont, +whom she had selected for his wife. +</P> + +<P> +There were few things that Mrs. Tremont enjoyed so much as arranging +romances in everyday life. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me, Miss Moore," said the butler, standing at her elbow, "but +there has been a telephone message from Mrs. Tremont, saying that she +and Mrs. Endicott have been detained, and will you be kind enough to +explain this to Mr. Sanderson." Anna never knew what the message cost +Mrs. Tremont. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later, Sanderson's card was sent up; Anna rose to meet him +with swiftly beating heart. +</P> + +<P> +"What perfect luck," he said. "How do I happen to find you alone? +Usually you have a regiment of people about you." +</P> + +<P> +"Cousin Frances has just telephoned that she has been detained, and I +suppose I am to entertain you till her return." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be sufficiently entertained if I may have the pleasure of +looking at you." +</P> + +<P> +"Till dinner time? You could never stand it." She laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be a pleasure till eternity." +</P> + +<P> +"At any rate," said Anna, "I am not going to put you to the test. If +you will be good enough to ring for tea, I will give you a cup." +</P> + +<P> +The butler brought in the tea. Anna lighted the spirit lamp with +pretty deftness, and proceeded to make tea. +</P> + +<P> +"I could not have taken this, even from your hands last week, +Anna—pardon me, Miss Moore." +</P> + +<P> +"And why not? Had you been taking pledges not to drink tea?" +</P> + +<P> +"It seems to me as if I've been living on rare beef and whole wheat +bread ever since I can remember——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, I forgot about your being in training for the game, but you +did so magnificently, you ought not to mind it. Why, you made Harvard +win the game. We were all so proud of you." +</P> + +<P> +"All! I don't care about 'all.' Were you proud of me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I was," she answered with the loveliest blush. +</P> + +<P> +"Then it is amply repaid." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me give you another cup of tea." +</P> + +<P> +"No, thanks, I don't care about any more, but if you will let me talk +to you about something— See here, Anna. Yes, I mean Anna. What +nonsense for us to attempt to keep up the Miss Moore and Mr. Sanderson +business. I used to scoff at love at first sight and say it was all +the idle fancy of the poets. Then I met you and remained to pray. +You've turned my world topsy-turvy. I can't think without you, and yet +it would be folly to tell this to my Governor, and ask his consent to +our marriage. He wants me to finish college, take the usual trip +around the world and then go into the firm. Besides, he wants me to +eventually marry a cousin of mine—a girl with a lot of money and with +about as much heart as would fit on the end of a pin." +</P> + +<P> +She had followed this speech with almost painful attention. She bit +her lips till they were but a compressed line of coral. At last she +found words to say: +</P> + +<P> +"We must not talk of these things, Mr. Sanderson. I have to go back +and care for my mother. She is an invalid and needs all my attention. +Bedsides, we are poor; desperately poor. I am here in your world, only +through the kindness of my cousin, Mrs. Tremont." +</P> + +<P> +"It was your world till a year ago, Anna. I know all about your +father's failure, and how nobly you have done your part since then, and +it kills me to think of you, who ought to have everything, spending +your life—your youth—in that stupid little Waltham, doing the work of +a housemaid." +</P> + +<P> +"I am very glad to do my part," she answered him bravely, but her eyes +were full of unshed tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Anna, dearest, listen to me." He crossed over to where she sat and +took her hand. "Can't you have a little faith in me and do what I am +going to ask you? There is the situation exactly. My father won't +consent to our marriage, so there is no use trying to persuade him. +And here you are—a little girl who needs some one to take care of you +and help you take care of your mother, give her all the things that +mean so much to an invalid. Now, all this can be done, darling, if you +will only have faith in me. Marry me now secretly, before you go back +to Waltham. No one need know. And then the governor can be talked +around in time. My allowance will be ample to give you and your mother +all you need. Can't you see, darling?" +</P> + +<P> +The color faded from her cheeks. She looked at him with eyes as +startled as a surprised fawn. +</P> + +<P> +"O, Lennox, I would be afraid to do that." +</P> + +<P> +"You would not be afraid, Anna, if you loved me." +</P> + +<P> +It was so tempting to the weary young soul, who had already begun to +sink under the accumulated burdens of the past year, not for herself, +but for the sick mother, who complained unceasingly of the changed +conditions of their lives. The care and attention would mean so much +to her—and yet, what right had she to encourage this man to go against +the wishes of his father, to take advantage of his love for her? But +she was grateful to him, and there was a wealth of tenderness in the +eyes that she turned toward him. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Lennox, I appreciate your generosity, but I do not think it would +be wise for either of us." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk to me of generosity. Good God, Anna, can't you realize +what this separation means to me? I have no heart to go on with my +life away from you. If you are going to throw me over, I shall cut +college and go away." +</P> + +<P> +She loved him all the better for his impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"Anna," he said—the two dark heads were close together, the madness of +the impulse was too much for both. Their lips met in a first long +kiss. The man was to have his way. The kiss proved a more eloquent +argument than all his pleading. +</P> + +<P> +"Say you will, Anna." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +And then they heard the street door open and close, and the voices of +Mrs. Tremont and her daughter, as they made their way to the library. +And the two young souls, who hovered on the brink of heaven, were +obliged to listen to the latest gossip of fashionable Boston. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CONTAINING SOME REFLECTIONS AND THE ENTRANCE OF MEPHISTOPHELES. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Not all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,<BR> +Nor florid prose, nor horrid lies of rhyme,<BR> +Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime."—<I>Byron</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Lennox Sanderson was stretched in his window-seat with a book, of +which, however, he knew nothing—not even the title—his mind being +occupied by other thoughts than reading at that particular time. +</P> + +<P> +Did he dare do it? The audacity of the proceeding was sufficient to +make the iron will of even Lennox Sanderson waver. And yet, to lose +her! Such a contingency was not to be considered. His mind flew +backward and forward like a shuttle, he turned the leaves of his book; +he smoked, but no light came from within or without. +</P> + +<P> +He glanced about the familiar objects in his sitting-room as one +unconsciously does when the mind is on the rack of anxiety, as if to +seek council from the mute things that make up so large a part of our +daily lives. +</P> + +<P> +It was an ideal sitting-room for a college student, the luxury of the +appointments absolutely subservient to taste and simplicity. Heavy red +curtains divided the sitting-room from the bedroom beyond, and imparted +a degree of genial warmth to the atmosphere. Russian candlesticks of +highly polished brass stood about on the mantel-piece and book shelves. +Above the high oak wainscoting the walls were covered with dark red +paper, against which background brown photographs of famous paintings +showed to excellent advantage. They were reproductions of Botticelli, +Rembrant, Franz Hals and Velasquez hung with artistic irregularity. +Above the mantel-piece were curious old weapons, swords, matchetes, +flintlocks and carbines. A helmet and breastplate filled the space +between the two windows. Some dozen or more of pipe racks held the +young collegian's famous collection of pipes that told the history of +smoking from the introduction during the reign of Elizabeth, down to +the present day. +</P> + +<P> +In taking a mental inventory of his household goods, Sanderson's eyes +fell on the photograph of a woman on the mantel-piece. He frowned. +What right had she there, when his mind was full of another? He walked +over to the picture and threw it into the fire. It was not the first +picture to know a similar fate after occupying that place of honor. +</P> + +<P> +The blackened edges of the picture were whirling up the chimney, when +Sanderson's attention was arrested by a knock. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in," he called, and a young man of about his own age entered. +Without being in the least ill-looking, there was something repellent +about the new comer. His eyes were shifty and too close together to be +trustworthy. Otherwise no fault could be found with his appearance. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Langdon, how are you?" his host asked, but there was no warmth +in his greeting. +</P> + +<P> +"As well as a poor devil like me ever is," began Langdon obsequiously. +He sighed, looked about the comfortable room and finished with: "Lucky +dog." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson stood on no ceremony with his guest, who was a thoroughly +unscrupulous young man. Once or twice Langdon had helped Sanderson out +of scrapes that would have sent him home from college without his +degree, had they come to the ears of the faculty. In return for this +assistance, Sanderson had lent him large sums of money, which the owner +entertained no hopes of recovering. Sanderson tried to balance matters +by treating Langdon with scant ceremony when they were alone. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, old man," began his host, "I do not flatter myself that I owe +this call to any personal charm. You dropped in to ease a little +financial embarrassment by the request of a loan—am I not right?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right, as usual, Sandy, though I'd hardly call it a loan. You know I +was put to a devil of a lot of trouble about that Newton affair, and it +cost money to secure a shut mouth." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson frowned. "This is the fifth time I have had the pleasure of +settling for that Newton affair, Langdon. It seems to have become a +sort of continuous performance." +</P> + +<P> +Langdon winced. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you what I'll do, Langdon. You owe me two thousand now, not +counting that poker debt. We'll call it square if you'll attend to a +little matter for me and I'll give you an extra thou. to make it worth +your while." +</P> + +<P> +"You know I am always delighted to help you, Sandy." +</P> + +<P> +"When I make it worth your while." +</P> + +<P> +"Put it that way if you wish." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think that for once in your life you could look less like the +devil than you are naturally, and act the role of parson?" +</P> + +<P> +"I might if I associate with you long enough. Saintly company might +change my expression." +</P> + +<P> +"You won't have time to try. You've got to have your clerical look in +good working order by Friday. Incidently you are to marry me to the +prettiest girl in Massachusetts and keep your mouth closed." +</P> + +<P> +As if to end the discussion, Sanderson strode over to his desk and +wrote out a check for a thousand dollars. He came back, waving it in +the air to dry the ink. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you will condescend to explain," Langdon said, as he pocketed +the check. +</P> + +<P> +"Explanations are always bores, my dear boy. There is a little girl +who feels obliged to insist on formalities, not too many. She'll think +your acting as the parson the best joke in the world, but it would not +do to chaff her about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I see," and Langdon's laugh was not pleasant. +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly. You will have everything ready—white choker, black coat and +all the rest of it, and now, my dear boy, you've got to excuse me as +I've got a lot of work on hand." +</P> + +<P> +They shook hands and Langdon's footsteps were soon echoing down the +corridor. +</P> + +<P> +The foul insinuation that Sanderson had just made about Anna rankled in +his mind. He went to the sideboard and poured himself out a good stiff +drink. After that, his conscience did not trouble him. +</P> + +<P> +The work on account of which he excused himself from Langdon's society, +was apparently not of the most pressing order, for Sanderson almost +immediately started for Boston, turning his steps towards Mrs. Standish +Tremont's. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Tremont was not at home," the man announced at the door, "and +Mrs. Endicott was confined to her room with a bad headache. Should he +take his card to Miss Moore?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson assented, feeling that fate was with him. +</P> + +<P> +"My darling," he said, as Anna came in a moment later, and folded her +close in a long embrace. She was paler than when he had last seen her +and there were dark rings under her eyes that hinted at long night +vigils. +</P> + +<P> +"Lennox," she said, "do not think me weak, but I am terribly +frightened. It does not seem as if we were doing the right thing by +our friends." +</P> + +<P> +"Goosey girl," he said, kissing her, "who was it that said no marriage +ever suited all parties unconcerned?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. "I am thinking more of you Lennox, than of myself. +Suppose your father should not forgive you, cut you off without a cent, +and you should have to drudge all your life with mother and me on your +hands! Don't you think you would wish we had never met, or, at least, +that I had thought of these things?" +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose the sky should fall, or the sun should go out, or that I could +stop loving you, or any of the impossible things that could not happen +once in a million years. Aren't you ashamed of yourself to doubt me in +this way? Answer me, miss," he said with mock ferocity. +</P> + +<P> +For answer she laid her cheek against his.—"I am so happy, dear, that +I am almost afraid." +</P> + +<P> +He pressed her tenderly. "And now, darling, for the +conspiracy—Cupid's conspiracy. You write to your mother to-night and +say that you will be home on Wednesday because you will. Then tell +Mrs. Tremont that you have had a wire from her saying you must go home +Friday (I'll see that you <I>do</I> receive such a telegram), and leave +Friday morning by the 9:40. I will keep out of the way, because the +entire Tremont contingent will doubtless see you off. I will then meet +you at one of the stations near Boston. I can't tell you which, till I +hear from my friend, the Reverend John Langdon. He will have +everything arranged." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him with dilating eyes, her cheeks blanched with fear. +</P> + +<P> +"Anna," he said, almost roughly, "if you have no confidence in me, I +will go out of your life forever." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes, I believe in you," she said. "It isn't that, but it is the +first thing I have ever kept from mother, and I would feel so much more +comfortable if she knew." +</P> + +<P> +"Baby. An' so de ittle baby must tell its muvver ev'yting," he +mimicked her, till she felt ashamed of her good impulse—an impulse +which if she had yielded to, it would have saved her from all the +bitterness she was to know. +</P> + +<P> +"And so you will do as I ask you, darling?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you promise?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," and they sealed the bargain with a kiss. +</P> + +<P> +"Dearest, I must be going. It would never do for Mrs. Tremont to see +us together. I should forget and call you pet names, and then you +would be sent supperless to bed, like the little girls in the story +books." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you must go," she said, regretfully. +</P> + +<P> +"It will not be for long," and with another kiss he left her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MOCK MARRIAGE. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Thus grief still treads upon the heel of pleasure,<BR> +Married in haste, we may repent at leisure."—<I>Congreve</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It seemed to Anna when Friday came, that human experience had nothing +further to offer in the way of mental anguish and suspense. She had +thrashed out the question of her secret marriage to Sanderson till her +brain refused to work further, and there was in her mind only dread and +a haunting sense of loss. If she had only herself to consider, she +would not have hesitated a moment. But Sanderson, his father, and her +own mother were all involved. +</P> + +<P> +Was she doing right by her mother? At times, the advantage to the +invalid accruing from this marriage seemed manifold. Again it seemed +to Anna but a senseless piece of folly, prompted by her own selfish +love for Sanderson. And so the days wore on until the eventful Friday +came, and Anna said good-bye to Mrs. Standish Tremont with livid cheeks +and tearful eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"And do you feel so badly about going away, my dear?" said the great +lady, looking at those visible signs of distress and feeling not a +little flattered by her young cousin's show of affection. "We must +have you down soon again," and she patted Anna's cheek and hurried her +into the car, for Mrs. Tremont had a horror of scenes and signals +warned her that Anna was on the verge of tears. +</P> + +<P> +The locomotive whistled, the cars gave a jolt, and Anna Moore was +launched on her tragic fate. She never knew how the time passed after +leaving Mrs. Tremont, till Sanderson joined her at the next station. +She felt as if her will power had deserted her, and she was dumbly +obeying the behests of some unseen relentless force. She looked at the +strange faces about her, hopelessly. Perhaps it was not too +late—-perhaps some kind motherly woman would tell her if she were +doing right. But they all looked so strange and forbidding, and while +she turned the question over and over in her mind, the car stopped, the +brakeman called the station and Lennox Sanderson got on. +</P> + +<P> +She turned to him in her utter perplexity, forgetting he was the cause +of it. +</P> + +<P> +"My darling, how pale you are. Are you ill?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not ill, but——" He would not let her finish, but reassured her by +the tenderest of looks, the warmest of hand clasps, and the terrified +girl began to lose the hunted feeling that she had. +</P> + +<P> +They rode on for fully an hour. Sanderson was perfectly +self-possessed. He might have been married every day in the year, for +any difference it made in his demeanor. He was perfectly composed, +laughed and chatted as wittily as ever. In time, Anna partook of his +mood and laughed back. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her +mind. At last they stopped at a little station called Whiteford. An +old-fashioned carriage was waiting for them; they entered it and the +driver, whipped up his horses. A drive of a half mile brought them to +an ideal white cottage surrounded by porches and hidden in a tangle of +vines. The door was opened for them by the Rev. John Langdon in person. +He seemed a preternaturally grave young man to Anna and his clerical +attire was above reproach. Any misgivings one might have had regarding +him on the score of his youth, were more than counterbalanced by his +almost supernatural gravity. +</P> + +<P> +He apologized for the absence of his wife, saying she had been called +away suddenly, owing to the illness of her mother. His housekeeper and +gardener would act as witnesses. Sanderson hastily took Anna to one +side and said: "I forgot to tell you, darling, that I am going to be +married by my two first names only, George Lennox. It is just the +same, but if the Sanderson got into any of those country marriage +license papers, I should be afraid the governor would hear of +it—penalty of having a great name, you know," he concluded gayly. +"Thought I had better mention it, as it would not do to have you +surprised over your husband's name." +</P> + +<P> +Again the feeling of dread completely over-powered her. She looked at +him with her great sorrowful eyes, as a trapped animal will sometimes +look at its captor, but she could not speak. Some terrible blight +seemed to have overgrown her brain, depriving her of speech and +willpower. +</P> + +<P> +The witnesses entered. Anna was too agitated to notice that the Rev. +John Langdon's housekeeper was a very singular looking young woman for +her position. Her hair was conspicuously dark at the roots and +conspicuously light on the ends. Her face was hard and when she smiled +her mouth, assumed a wolfish expression. She was loudly dressed and +wore a profusion of jewelry—altogether a most remarkable looking woman +for the place she occupied. +</P> + +<P> +The gardener had the appearance of having been suddenly wakened before +nature had had her full quota of sleep. He was blear-eyed and his +breath was more redolent of liquor than one might have expected in the +gardener of a parsonage. +</P> + +<P> +The room in which the ceremony was to take place was the ordinary +cottage parlor, with crochet work on the chairs, and a profusion of +vases and bric-a-brac on the tables. The Rev. John Langdon requested +Anna and Sanderson to stand by a little marble table from which the +housekeeper brushed a profusion of knick-knacks. There was no Bible. +Anna was the first to notice the omission. This seemed to deprive the +young clergyman of his dignity. He looked confused, blushed, and +turning to the housekeeper told her to fetch the Bible. This seemed to +appeal to the housekeeper's sense of humor. She burst out laughing and +said something about looking for a needle in a haystack. Sanderson +turned on her furiously, and she left the room, looking sour, and +muttering indignantly. She returned, after what seemed an interminable +space of time, and the ceremony proceeded. +</P> + +<P> +Anna did not recognize her own voice as she answered the responses. +Sanderson's was clear and ringing; his tones never faltered. When the +time came to put the ring on her finger, Anna's hand trembled so +violently that the ring fell to the floor and rolled away. Sanderson's +face turned pale. It seemed to him like a providential dispensation. +For some minutes, the assembled company joined in the hunt for the +ring. It was found at length by the yellow-haired housekeeper, who +returned it with her most wolfish grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Trust Bertha Harris to find things!" said the clergyman. +</P> + +<P> +The ceremony proceeded without further incident. The final words were +pronounced and Anna sank into a chair, relieved that it was over, +whether it was for better or for worse. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson hurried her into the carriage before the clergyman and the +witnesses could offer their congratulations. He pulled her away from +the yellow-haired housekeeper, who would have smothered her in an +embrace, and they departed without the customary handshake from the +officiating clergyman. +</P> + +<P> +"You were not very cordial, dear," she said, as they rolled along +through the early winter landscape. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound them all. I hated to see them near you"—and then, in answer +to her questioning gaze—"because I love you so much, darling. I hate +to see anyone touch you." +</P> + +<P> +The trees were bare; the fields stretched away brown and flat, like the +folds of a shroud, and the sun was veiled by lowering clouds of gray. +It was not a cheerful day for a wedding. +</P> + +<P> +"Lennox, did you remember that this is Friday? And I have on a black +dress." +</P> + +<P> +"And now that Mrs. Lennox has settled the question of to wed or not to +wed, by wedding—behold, she is worrying herself about her frock and +the color of it, and the day of the week and everything else. Was +there ever such a dear little goose?" He pinched her cheek, and +she—she smiled up at him, her fears allayed. +</P> + +<P> +"And why don't you ask where we are going, least curious of women?" +</P> + +<P> +"I forgot; indeed I did." +</P> + +<P> +"We are going to the White Rose Inn. Ideal name for a place in which +to spend one's honeymoon, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Any place would be ideal with you Lennie," and she slipped her little +hand into his ruggeder palm. +</P> + +<P> +At last the White Rose Inn was sighted; it was one of those modern +hostelries, built on an old English model. The windows were muslined, +the rooms were wainscoted in oak, the furniture was heavy and +cumbersome. Anna was delighted with everything she saw. Sanderson had +had their sitting-room filled with crimson roses, they were everywhere; +banked on the mantelpiece, on the tables and window-sills. Their +perfume was to Anna like the loving embrace of an old friend. +Jacqueminots had been so closely associated with her acquaintance with +Sanderson, in after years she could never endure their perfume and +their scarlet petals unnerved her, as the sight of blood does some +women. +</P> + +<P> +A trim English maid came to assist "Mrs. Lennox," to unpack her things. +Lunch was waiting in the sitting-room. Sanderson gave minute orders +about the icing of his own particular brand of champagne, which he had +had sent from Boston. +</P> + +<P> +Anna had recovered her good spirits. It seemed "such a jolly lark," as +her husband said. +</P> + +<P> +"Sweetheart, your happiness," he said, and raised his glass to hers. +Her eyes sparkled like the champagne. The honeymoon at the White Rose +Tavern had begun very merrily. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A LITTLE GLIMPSE OF THE GARDEN OF EDEN. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The moon—the moon, so silver and cold,<BR> +Her fickle temper has oft been told,<BR> +Now shady—now bright and sunny—<BR> +But of all the lunar things that change,<BR> +The one that shows most fickle and strange,<BR> +And takes the most eccentric range<BR> +Is the moon—so called—of honey."—<I>Hood</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"My dear, will you kindly pour me a second cup of coffee? Not because +I really want it, you know, but entirely for the aesthetic pleasure of +seeing your pretty little hands pattering about the cups." +</P> + +<P> +Lennox Sanderson, in a crimson velvet smoking jacket, was regarding +Anna with the most undisguised admiration from the other side of the +round table, that held their breakfast,—their first honeymoon +breakfast, as Anna supposed it to be. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything to please my husband," she answered with a flitting blush. +</P> + +<P> +"Your husband? Ah, say it again; it sounds awfully good from you." +</P> + +<P> +"So you don't really care for any more coffee, but just want to see my +hands among the cups. How appreciative you are!" And there was a +mischievous twinkle in her eye as she began with great elaboration the +pantomimic representation of pouring a cup of coffee, adding sugar and +cream; and concluded by handing the empty cup to Sanderson. "It would +be such a pity to waste the coffee, Lennie, when you only wanted to see +my hands." +</P> + +<P> +"If I am not going to have the coffee, I insist on both the hands," he +said, taking them and kissing them repeatedly. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I'll have to give it to you on those terms," and she +proceeded to fill the cup in earnest this time. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see. How is it that you like it? One lump of sugar and quite +a bit of cream? And tea perfectly clear with nothing at all and toast +very crisp and dry. Dear me, how do women ever remember all their +husband's likes and dislikes? It's worse than learning a new +multiplication table over again," and the most adorable pucker +contracted her pretty brows. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet, see how beautifully widows manage it, even taking the +thirty-third degree and here you are, complaining before you are +initiated, and kindly remember, Mrs. Lennox Sanderson, if I take but +one lump of sugar in my coffee, there are other ways of sweetening it." +Presumably he got it sweetened to his satisfaction, for the proprietor +of the "White Rose," who attended personally to the wants of "Mr. and +Mrs. Lennox" had to cough three times before he found it discreet to +enter and inquire if everything was satisfactory. +</P> + +<P> +He bowed three times like a disjointed foot rule and then retired to +charge up the wear and tear to his backbone under the head of "special +attendance." +</P> + +<P> +"H-m-m!" sighed Sanderson, as the door closed on the bowing form of the +proprietor, "that fellow's presence reminds me that we are not +absolutely alone in the world, and you had almost convinced me that we +were, darling, and that by special Providence, this grim old earth had +been turned into a second Garden of Eden for our benefit. Aren't you +going to kiss me and make me forget in earnest, this time?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure, Lennie, I infinitely prefer the 'White Rose Inn' with you, +to the Garden of Paradise with Adam." She not only granted the +request, but added an extra one for interest. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll make me horribly vain, Anna, if you persist in preferring me to +Adam; but then I dare say, Eve would have preferred him and Paradise to +me and the 'White Rose.'" +</P> + +<P> +"But, then, Eve's taste lacked discrimination. She had to take Adam or +become the first girl bachelor. With me there might have been +alternatives." +</P> + +<P> +"There might have been others, to speak vulgarly?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly." +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove, Anna, I don't see how you ever did come to care for me!" The +laughter died out of his eyes, his face grew prefer naturally grave, he +strode over to the window and looked out on the desolate landscape. +For the first time he realized the gravity of his offense. His crime +against this girl, who had been guilty of nothing but loving him too +deeply stood out, stripped of its trappings of sentiment, in all its +foul selfishness. He would right the wrong, confess to her; but no, he +dare not, she was not the kind of woman to condone such an offense. +</P> + +<P> +"Needles and pins, needles and pins, when a man's married his trouble +begins," quoted Anna gayly, slipping up behind him and, putting her +arms about his neck; "one would think the old nursery ballad was true, +to look at you, Lennox Sanderson. I never saw such a married-man +expression before in my life. You wanted to know why I fell in love +with you. I could not help it, because you are YOU." +</P> + +<P> +She nestled her head in his shoulder and he forgot his scruples in the +sorcery of her presence. +</P> + +<P> +"Darling," he said; taking her in his arms, with perhaps the most +genuine affection he ever felt for her, "I wish we could spend our +lives here in this quiet little place, and that there were no +troublesome relations or outside world demanding us." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I, dear," she answered, "but it could not last; we are too +perfectly happy." +</P> + +<P> +Neither spoke for some minutes. At that time he loved her as deeply as +it was possible for him to love anyone. Again the impulse came to tell +her, beg for forgiveness and make reparation. He was holding her in +his arms, considering. A moment more, and he would have given way to +the only unselfish impulse in his life. But again the knock, followed +by the discreet cough of the proprietor. And when he entered to tell +them that the horses were ready for their drive, "Mrs. Lennox" hastened +to put on her jacket and "Mr. Lennox" thanked his stars that he had not +spoken. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WAYS OF DESOLATION. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Oh! colder than the wind that freezes<BR> +Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd,<BR> +Is that congealing pang which seizes<BR> +The trusting bosom when betray'd."—<I>Moore</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Four months had elapsed since the honeymoon at the White Rose Tavern, +and Anna was living at Waltham with her mother who grew more fretful +and complaining every day. The marriage was still the secret of Anna +and Sanderson. The honeymoon at the White Rose had been prolonged to a +week, but no suspicion had entered the minds of Mrs. Moore or Mrs. +Standish Tremont, thanks to Sanderson's skill in sending fictitious +telegrams, aided by so skilled an accomplice as the "Rev." John Langdon. +</P> + +<P> +Week after week, Anna had yielded to Sanderson's entreaties and kept +her marriage a secret from her mother. At first he had sent her +remittances of money with frequent regularity, but, lately, they had +begun to fall off, his letters were less frequent, shorter and more +reserved in tone, and the burden of it all was crushing the youth out +of the girl and breaking her spirit. She had grown to look like some +great sorrowful-eyed Madonna, and her beauty had in it more of the +spiritual quality of an angel than of a woman. As the spring came on, +and the days grew longer she looked like one on whom the hand of death +had been laid. +</P> + +<P> +Her friends noticed this, but not her mother, who was so engrossed with +her own privations, that she had no time or inclination for anything +else. +</P> + +<P> +"Anna, Anna, to think of our coming to this!" she would wail a dozen +times a day—or, "Anna, I can't stand it another minute," and she would +burst into paroxysms of grief, from which nothing could arouse her, and +utterly exhausted by her own emotions, which were chiefly regret and +self-pity, she would sink off to sleep. Anna had no difficulty in +accounting to her mother for the extra comforts with which Lennox +Sanderson's money supplied them. Mrs. Standish Tremont sometimes sent +checks and Mrs. Moore never bothered about the source, so long as the +luxuries were forthcoming. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there no more Kumyss, Anna?" she asked one day. +</P> + +<P> +"No, mother." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why did you neglect to order it?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl's face grew red. "There was no money to pay for it, mother. +I am so sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"And does Frances Tremont neglect us in this way? When we were both +girls, it was quite the other way. My father practically adopted +Frances Tremont. She was married from our house. But you see, Anna, +she made a better marriage than I. Oh, why was your father so +reckless? I warned him not to speculate in the rash way he was +accustomed to doing, but he would never take my advice. If he had, we +would not be as we are now." And again the poor lady was overcome with +her own sorrows. +</P> + +<P> +It was not Mrs. Tremont's check that had bought the last Kumyss. In +fact, Mrs. Tremont, after the manner of rich relations, troubled her +head but little about her poor ones. Sanderson had sent no money for +nearly a month, and Anna would have died sooner than have asked for it. +He had been to Waltham twice to see Anna, and once she had gone to meet +him at the White Rose Tavern. Mrs. Moore, wrapped in gloom at the loss +of her own luxury, had no interest in the young man who came down from +Boston to call on her daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"You met him at Cousin Frances's, did you say? I don't see how you can +ask him here to this abominable little house. A girl should have good +surroundings, Anna. Nothing detracts from a girl's beauty so much as +cheap surroundings. Oh, my dear, if you had only been settled in life +before all this happened, I would not complain." And, as usual, there +were more tears. +</P> + +<P> +But the wailings of her mother, over departed luxuries, and the poverty +of her surroundings were the lightest of Anna's griefs. At their last +meeting—she had gone to him in response to his request—Sanderson's +manner had struck dumb terror into the heart of the girl who had +sacrificed so much at his bidding. She had been very pale. The strain +of facing the terrible position in which she found herself, coupled +with her own failing health, had robbed her of the beautiful color he +had always so frankly admired. Her eyes were big and hollow looking, +and the deep black circles about them only added to her unearthly +appearance. There were drawn lines of pain about the mouth, that +robbed the Cupid's bow of half its beauty. +</P> + +<P> +"My God, Anna!" he had said to her impatiently. "A man might as well +try to love a corpse as a woman who looks like that." He led her over +to a mirror, that she might see her wasted charms. There was no need +for her to look. She knew well enough, what was reflected there. +</P> + +<P> +"You have no right to let yourself get like this. The only thing a +woman has is her looks, and it is a crime if she throws them away +worrying and fretting." +</P> + +<P> +"But Lennox," she answered, desperately, "I have told you how matters +stand with me, and mother knows nothing—suspects nothing." And the +girl broke down and wept as if her heart would break. +</P> + +<P> +"Anna, for Heaven's sake, do stop crying. I hate a scene worse than +anything in the world. When a woman cries, it means but one thing, and +that is that the man must give in—and in this particular instance I +can't give in. It would ruin me with the governor to acknowledge our +marriage." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's tears froze at his brutal words. She looked about dazed and +hopeless. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was standing by the window, drumming a tattoo on the pane. +He wheeled about, and said slowly, as if he were feeling his way: +</P> + +<P> +"Anna, suppose I give you a sum of money and you go away till all this +business is over. You can tell your mother or not; just as you see +fit. As far as I am concerned, it would be impossible for me to +acknowledge our marriage as I have said before. If the governor found +it out, he would cut me off without a cent." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Lennox, I cannot leave my mother. Her health grows worse daily, +and it would kill her." +</P> + +<P> +"Then take her with you. She's got to know, sooner or later, I +suppose. Now, don't be a stupid little girl, and everything will turn +out well for us." He patted her cheek, but it was done perfunctorily, +and Anna knew there was no use in making a further appeal to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, my dear," he said, "I have got to take that 4.30 train back to +Cambridge. Here is something for you, and let me know just as soon as +you make up your mind, when you intend to go and where. There is no +use in your staying in Waltham till those old cats begin to talk." +</P> + +<P> +He put a roll of bills in her hand, kissed her and was gone, and Anna +turned her tottering steps homeward, sick at heart. She must tell her +mother, and the shock of it might kill her. She pressed her hands over +her burning eyes to blot out the hideous picture. Could cruel fate +offer bitterer dregs to young lips? +</P> + +<P> +She stopped at the postoffice for mail. There was nothing but the +daily paper. She took it mechanically and turned into the little side +street on which they lived. +</P> + +<P> +The old family servant, who still lived with them, met her at the door, +and told her that her mother had been sleeping quietly for more than an +hour. +</P> + +<P> +"Good gracious, Miss Anna, but you do look ill. Just step into the +parlor and sit down for a minute, and I'll make you a cup of tea." +</P> + +<P> +Anna suffered herself to be led into the little room, smiling +gratefully at the old servant as she assisted her to remove her hat and +jacket. She took up the paper mechanically and glanced through its +contents. Her eyes fell on the following item, which she followed with +hypnotic interest: "Harvard Student in Disgrace!" was the headline. +</P> + +<P> +"John Langdon, a Harvard student, was arrested on the complaint of +Bertha Harris, a young woman, well known in Boston's gas-light circles, +yesterday evening. They had been dining together at a well-known chop +house, when the woman, who appeared to be slightly under the influence +of liquor, suddenly arose and declared that Langdon was trying to rob +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Both were arrested on the charge of creating a disturbance. At the +State Street Police Station the woman said that Langdon had performed a +mock marriage for a fellow student some four months ago. She had acted +as a witness, for which service she was to receive $50. The money had +never been paid. She stated further that the young man, whom Langdon +is alleged to have married, is the son of a wealthy Boston banker, and +the young woman who was thus deceived is a young relative of one of +Boston's social leaders. +</P> + +<P> +"Later Bertha Harris withdrew her charges, saying she was intoxicated +when she made them. The affair has created a profound sensation." +</P> + +<P> +"Mock marriage!" The words whirled before the girl's eyes in letters +of fire. Bertha Harris! Yes, that was the name. It had struck her at +the time when Sanderson dropped the ring. Langdon had said "Bertha +Harris has found it." +</P> + +<P> +The light of her reason seemed to be going out. From the blackness +that engulfed her, the words "mock marriage" rang in her ear like the +cry of the drowning. +</P> + +<P> +"God, oh God!" she called and the pent up agony of her wrecked life was +in the cry. +</P> + +<P> +They found her senseless a moment later, staring up at the ceiling with +glassy eyes, the crumpled paper crushed in her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"She is dead," wailed her mother. The old servant wasted no time in +words. She lifted up the fragile form and laid it tenderly on the bed. +Then she raised the window and called to the first passerby to run for +the nearest doctor. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A mother's love—how sweet the name!<BR> +What is a mother's love?<BR> +—A noble, pure and tender flame,<BR> +Enkindled from above,<BR> +To bless a heart of earthly mould;<BR> +The warmest love that can grow cold;<BR> +That is a mother's love.—<I>James Montgomery</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It took all the medical skill of which the doctor was capable, and the +best part of twenty-four hours of hard work to rouse Anna from the +death-like lethargy into which she had fallen. Toward morning she +opened her eyes and turning to her mother, said appealingly: +</P> + +<P> +"Mother, you believe I am innocent, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, darling," Mrs. Moore replied, without knowing in the least +to what her daughter referred. The doctor, who was present at the +time, turned away. He knew more than the mother. It was one of those +tragedies of everyday life that meant for the woman the fleeing away +from old associations, like a guilty thing, long months of hiding, the +facing of death; and, if death was not to be, the beginning of life +over again branded with shame. And all this bitter injustice because +she had loved much and had faith in the man she loved. The doctor had +faced tragedies before in his professional life, but never had he felt +his duty so heavily laid upon him as when he begged Mrs. Moore for a +few minutes' private conversation in the gray dawn of that early +morning. +</P> + +<P> +He felt that the life of his patient depended on his preparing her +mother for the worst. The girl, he knew, would probably confess all +during her convalescence, and the mother must be prepared, so that the +first burst of anguish would have expended itself before the girl +should have a chance to pour out the story of her misfortune. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, doctor, is she going to die?" the mother asked, as she closed +the door of the little sitting-room and they were alone. The poor lady +had not thought of her own misfortunes since Anna's illness. The +selfishness of the woman of the world was completely obliterated by the +anxiety of the mother. +</P> + +<P> +"No, she will not die, Mrs. Moore; that is, if you are able to control +your feelings sufficiently, after I have made a most distressing +disclosure, to give her the love and sympathy that only you can." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him with troubled eyes. "Why, doctor, what do you mean? +My daughter has always had my love and sympathy, and if of late I have +appeared somewhat engrossed by my own troubles, I assure you my +daughter is not likely to suffer from it during her illness." +</P> + +<P> +"Her life depends on how you receive what I am going to tell you. +Should you upbraid her with her misfortune, or fail to stand by her as +only a mother can, I shall not answer for the consequences." Then he +told her Anna's secret. +</P> + +<P> +The stricken woman did not cry out in her anguish, nor swoon away. She +raised a feebly protesting hand, as if to ward off a cruel blow; then +burying her face in her arms, she cowed before him. Not a sob shook +the frail, wasted figure. It was as if this most terrible misfortune +had dried up the well-springs of grief and robbed her of the blessed +gift of tears. The woman who in one brief year had lost everything +that life held dear to her—husband, home, wealth, position—everything +but this one child, could not believe the terrible sentence that had +been pronounced against her. Her Anna—her little girl! Why, she was +only a child! Oh, no, it could not be true. She never, never would +believe it. +</P> + +<P> +Her brain whirled and seemed to stop. It refused to grasp so hideous a +proposition. The doctor was momentarily at a loss to know how to deal +with this terrible dry-eyed grief. The set look in her eyes, the +terrible calm of her demeanor were so much more alarming than the +wildest outpourings of grief would, have been. +</P> + +<P> +"And this seizure, Mrs. Moore. Tell me exactly how it was brought +about," thinking to turn the current of her thoughts even for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +She told him how Anna had gone out in the early afternoon, without +saying where she was going, and how she had returned to the house about +five o'clock, looking so pale and ill, that Hannah, an old family +servant who still lived with them, noticed it and begged her to sit +down while she went to fetch her a cup of tea. The maid left her +sitting by the fire-place reading a paper, and the next thing was the +terrible cry that brought them both. They found her lying on the floor +unconscious with the crumpled newspaper in her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"See, here is the paper now, doctor," and he stooped to pick up the +crumpled sheet from which the girl had read her death warrant. +Together they went over it in the hope that it might furnish some clue. +Mrs. Moore's eyes were the first to fall on the fatal paragraph. She +read it through, then showed it to the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"That is undoubtedly the cause of the seizure," said the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my poor, poor darling," moaned the mother, and the first tears +fell. +</P> + +<P> +In the first bitterness of regret, Mrs. Moore imagined that in +selfishly abandoning herself to her own grief, she must have neglected +her daughter, and her remorse knew no bounds. Again and again she +bitterly denounced herself for giving way to sorrow that now seemed +light and trivial, compared to the black hopelessness of the present. +</P> + +<P> +Anna's mind wandered in her delirium, and she would talk of her +marriage and beg Sanderson to let her tell her mother all. Then she +would fancy that she was again with Mrs. Tremont and she would go +through the pros and cons of the whole affair. Should she marry him +secretly, as he wished? Yes, it would be better for poor mama, who +needed so many comforts, but was it right? And then the passionate +appeal to Sanderson. Couldn't he realize her position?—— +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, darling, it is all right. Mother understands," the heartbroken +woman would repeat over and over again, but the sick girl could not +hear. +</P> + +<P> +And so the days wore on, till at last Anna's wandering mind turned back +to earth, and again took up the burden of living. There was nothing +for her to tell her mother. In her delirium she had told all, and the +mother was prepared to bravely face the worst for her daughter's sake. +</P> + +<P> +The terrible blow brought mother and daughter closer together than they +had been for years. In their prosperity, the young girl had been busy +with her governess and instructors, while her mother had made a fine +art of her invalidism and spent the greater part of her time at health +resorts, baths and spas. +</P> + +<P> +By mutual consent, they decided that it was better not to attempt to +seek redress from Sanderson. Anna's letters, written during her +convalescence, had remained unanswered, and any effort to force him, +either by persuasion or process of law, to right the terrible wrong he +had done, was equally repulsive to both mother and daughter. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Standish Tremont was also equally out of the question, as a court +of final appeal. She had been so piqued with Anna for interfering with +her most cherished plans regarding Sanderson and Grace Tremont, that +Anna knew well enough that there would only be further humiliation in +seeking mercy from that quarter. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +So mother and daughter prepared to face the inevitable alone. To this +end, Mrs. Moore sold the last of her jewelry. She had kept it, +thinking that Anna would perhaps marry some day and appreciate the +heirlooms; but such a contingent was no longer to be considered, and +the jewelry, and the last of the family silver, were sent to be sold, +together with every bit of furniture with which they could dispense, +and mother and daughter left the little cottage in Waltham, and went to +the town of Belden, New Hampshire,—a place so inconceivably remote, +that there was little chance of any of their former friends being able +to trace them, even if they should desire to do so. +</P> + +<P> +As the summer days grew shorter, and the hour of Anna's ordeal grew +near, Mrs. Moore had but one prayer in her heart, and that was that her +life might be spared till her child's troubles were over. Since Anna's +illness in the early spring, she had utterly disregarded herself. No +complaint was heard to pass her lips. Her time was spent in one +unselfish effort to make her daughter's life less painful. But the +strain of it was telling, and she knew that life with her was but the +question of weeks, perhaps days. As her physical grasp grew weaker, +her mental hold increased proportionately, and she determined to live +till she had either closed her child's eyes in death, or left her with +something for which to struggle, as she herself was now struggling. +</P> + +<P> +But the poor mother's last wish was not to be granted. In the +beginning of September, just when the earth was full of golden promise +of autumn, she felt herself going. She felt the icy hand of death at +her heart and the grim destroyer whispered in her ear: "Make ready." +Oh, the anguish of going just then, when she was needed so sorely by +her deceived and deserted child. +</P> + +<P> +"Anna, darling," she called feebly, "I cannot be with you; I am +going—I have prayed to stay, but it was not to be. Your child will +comfort you, darling. There is nothing like a child's love, Anna, to +make a woman forget old sorrows—kiss me, dear——" She was gone. +</P> + +<P> +And so Anna was to go down into the valley of the shadow of death +alone, and among strangers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN DAYS OF WAITING. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Bent o'er her babe, her eyes dissolved in dew,<BR> +The big drops mingled with the milk he drew<BR> +Gave the sad presage of his future years—<BR> +The child of misery, baptized in tears."—<I>John Langhorne</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The days of Anna's waiting lagged. She lost all count of time and +season. Each day was painfully like its predecessor, a period of time +to be gone through with, as best she could. She realized after her +mother's death what the gentle companionship had been to her, what a +prop the frail mother had become in her hour of need. For a great +change had come over the querulous invalid with the beginning of her +daughter's troubles, the grievances of the woman of the world were +forgotten in the anxiety of the mother, and never by look or word did +she chide her daughter, or make her affliction anything but easier to +bear by her gentle presence. +</P> + +<P> +Anna, sunk in the stupor of her own grief, did not realize the comfort +of her mother's presence until it was too late. She shrank from the +strangers with whom they made their little home—a middle aged +shopkeeper and his wife, who had been glad enough to rent them two +unused rooms in their house at a low figure. They were not lacking in +sympathy for young "Mrs. Lennox," but their disposition to ask +questions made Anna shun them as she would have an infection. After +her mother's death, they tried harder than ever to be kind to her, but +the listless girl, who spent her days gazing at nothing, was hardly +aware of their comings and goings. +</P> + +<P> +"If you would only try to eat a bit, my dear," said the corpulent Mrs. +Smith, bustling into Anna's room. "And land sakes, don't take on so. +There you set in that chair all day long. Just rouse yourself, my +dear; there ain't no trouble, however bad, but could be wuss." +</P> + +<P> +To this dismal philosophy, Anna would return a wan smile, while she +felt her heart almost break within her. +</P> + +<P> +"And, Mrs. Lennox, don't mind what I say to you. I am old enough to be +your grandmother, but if you have quarreled with any one, don't be too +spunky now about making up. Spunk is all right in its place, but its +place ain't at the bedside of a young woman who's got to face the trial +of her life. If you have quarreled with any one—your—your husband, +say, now is the time to make it up, since your ma is gone." +</P> + +<P> +The old woman looked at her with a strange mixture of motherliness and +curiosity. As she said to her husband a dozen times a day, "her heart +just ached for that pore young thing upstairs," but this tender +solicitude did not prevent her ears from aching, at the same time, to +hear Anna's story. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you very much for your kind interest, Mrs. Smith; but really, +you must let me judge of my own affairs." There was a dignity about +the girl that brooked no further interference. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, my dear, and I wouldn't have thought of suggesting it, +but you do seem that young—well, I must be going down to put the +potatoes on for dinner. If you want anything, just ring your bell." +</P> + +<P> +There was not the least resentment cherished by the corpulent Mrs. +Smith. The girl's answer confirmed her opinion from the first. "She +would not send for her husband, because there wasn't no husband to send +for." She mentioned her convictions to her husband and added she meant +to write to sister Eliza that very night. +</P> + +<P> +"Sister Eliza has an uncommon light hand with babies and that pore +young thing'll be hard pushed to pay the doctor, let alone a nurse." +</P> + +<P> +These essentially feminine details regarding the talents of Sister +Eliza, did not especially interest Smith, who continued his favorite +occupation—or rather, joint occupations, of whittling and +expectorating. Nevertheless, the letter to Sister Eliza was written, +and not a minute sooner than was necessary; for, the little soul that +was to bring with it forgetfulness for all the agony through which its +mother had lived during that awful year, came very soon after the +arrival of Sister Eliza. +</P> + +<P> +Anna had felt in those days of waiting that she could never again be +happy; that for her "finis" had been written by the fates. But, as she +lay with the dark-haired baby on her breast, she found herself planning +for the little girl's future; even happy in the building of those +heavenly air-castles that young mothers never weary of building. She +felt the necessity of growing strong so that she could work early and +late, for baby must have everything, even if mother went without. +Sometimes a fleeting likeness to Sanderson would flit across the +child's face, and a spasm of pain would clutch at Anna's heart, but she +would forget it next moment in one of baby's most heavenly smiles. +</P> + +<P> +She could think of him now without a shudder; even a lingering remnant +of tenderness would flare up in her heart when she remembered he was +the baby's father. Perhaps he would see the child sometime, and her +sweet baby ways would plead to him more eloquently than could all her +words to right the wrong he had done, and so the days slipped by and +the little mother was happy, after the long drawn out days of waiting +and misery. She would sing the baby to sleep in her low contralto +voice, and feel that it mattered not whether the world smiled or +frowned on her, so long as baby approved. +</P> + +<P> +But this blessed state of affairs was not long to continue. Anna, as +she grew stronger, felt the necessity of seeking employment, but to +this the baby proved a formidable obstacle. No one would give a young +woman, hampered with a child, work. She would come back to the baby at +night worn out in mind and body, after a day of fruitless searching. +These long trips of the little mother, with the consequent long absence +and exhaustion on her return, did not improve the little one's health, +and almost before Anna realized it was ailing, the baby sickened and +died. It was her cruelest blow. For the child's sake she had taken up +her interest in life, made plans; and was ready to work her fingers to +the bone, but it was not to be and with the first falling of the clods +on the little coffin, Anna felt the last ray of hope extinguished from +her heart. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ON THE THRESHOLD OF SHELTER. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Alas! To-day I would give everything<BR> +To see a friend's face, or hear voice<BR> +That had the slightest tone of comfort in it.—<I>Longfellow</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +About two miles from the town of Belden, N. H., stands an irregular farm +house that looks more like two dwellings forced to pass as one. One part +of it is all gables, and tile, and chimney corners, and antiquity, and +the other is square, slated, and of the newest cut, outside and in. +</P> + +<P> +The farm is the property of Squire Amasa Bartlett, a good type of the big +man of the small place. He was a contented and would have been a happy +man—or at least thought he would have been—if the dearest wish of his +life could have been realized. It was that his son, Dave, and his wife's +niece, Kate, should marry. Kate was an orphan and the Squire's ward. +She owned the adjoining land, that was farmed with the Squire's as one. +So that Cupid would not have come to them empty handed; but the young +people appeared to have little interest in each other apart from that +cousinly affection which young people who are brought together would in +all probability feel for each other. +</P> + +<P> +Dave was a handsome, dark-eyed young man, whose silence passed with some +for sulkiness; but he was not sulky—only deep and thoughtful, and +perhaps a little more devoid of levity than becomes a young man of +twenty-five. He had great force of character—you might have seen that +from his grave brow, and felt it in his simple speech and manner, that +was absolutely free from affectation. +</P> + +<P> +Dave was his mother's idol, but his utter lack of worldliness, his +inability to drive a shrewd bargain sometimes annoyed his father, who was +a just, but an undeniably hard man, who demanded a hundred cents for his +dollar every day in the year. +</P> + +<P> +Kate, whom the family circle hoped would one day be David's wife, was all +blonde hair, blue eyes and high spirits, so that the little blind god, +aided by the Squire's strategy, propinquity and the universal law of the +attraction of opposites, should have had no difficulty in making these +young people fall in love—but Destiny, apparently, decided to make them +exceptions to all rules. +</P> + +<P> +Kate was fond of going to Boston to visit a schoolmate, and the Squire, +who looked with small favor on these visits, was disposed to attribute +them to Dave's lack of ardor. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound it, Looizy," he would say to his wife, "if Dave made it more +lively for Kate she would not be fer flying off to Boston every time she +got a chance." +</P> + +<P> +And Mrs. Bartlett had no answer. Having a woman's doubtful gift of +intuition, she was afraid that the wedding would never take place, and +also having a woman's tact she never annoyed her husband by saying so. +</P> + +<P> +Kate, who had been in Boston for two months, was coming home about the +middle of July, and a little flutter of preparation went all over the +farm. +</P> + +<P> +Dave had said at breakfast that he regretted not being able to go to +Wakefield to meet Kate, but that he would be busy in the north field all +day. Hi Holler, the Bartlett chore boy, had been commissioned to go in +his stead, and Hi's toilet, in consequence, had occupied most of the +morning. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Bartlett was churning in the shadow of the wide porch, the Squire +was mending a horse collar with wax thread, and fussing about the heat +and the slowness of Hi Holler, who was always punctually fifteen minutes +late for everything. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound it, Looizy, what's keeping that boy; the train'll get in before +he's started. Here you, Hi, what's keeping you?" +</P> + +<P> +The delinquent stood in the doorway, his broad face rippling with smiles; +he had spent time on his toilet, but he felt that the result justified it. +</P> + +<P> +His high collar had already begun to succumb to the day, and the labor +involved in greasing his boots, which were much in evidence, owing to the +brevity of the white duck trousers that needed but one or two more +washings, with the accompanying process of shrinking, to convert them +into knickerbockers. Bear's grease had turned his ordinary curling brown +hair into a damp, shining mass that dripped in tiny rills, from time to +time, down on his coat collar, but Hi was happy. Beau Brummel, at the +height of his sartorial fame, never achieved a more self-satisfying +toilet. +</P> + +<P> +The Squire adjusted his spectacles. "What are you dressing up like that +on a week day for, Hi? Off with you now; and if you ain't in time for +them cars you'll catch 'Hail Columbia' when you get back." +</P> + +<P> +"Looizy," said the Squire, as soon as Hi was out of hearing, "why didn't +Dave go after Katie? Yes, I know about the hay. Hay is hay, but it +ought not to come first in a man's affections." +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better let 'em alone, Amasy; if they're going to marry they will +without any help from us; love affairs don't seem to prosper much, when +old folks interfere." +</P> + +<P> +"Looizy, it's my opinion that Dave's too shy to make up to women folks. +I don't think he'll even get up the courage to ask Kate to marry him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I never saw the man yet who was too bashful to propose to the +right woman." And a great deal of decision went into the churning that +accompanied her words. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe so, mebbe so," said the Squire. He felt that the vagaries of the +affections was too deep a subject for him. "Anyhow, Looizy, I don't want +no old maids and bachelors potterin' round this farm getting cranky +notions in their heads. Look at the professor. Why, a good woman would +have taken the nonsense out of him years ago." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Bartlett did not have to go far to look at the professor. He was +flying about her front garden at that very moment in an apparently +distracted state, crouching, springing, hiding back of bushes and +reappearing with the startling swiftness of magic. The Bartletts were +quite used to these antics on the part of their well-paying summer +boarder. He was chasing butterflies—a manifestly insane proceeding, of +course, but if a man could afford to pay ten dollars a week for summer +board in the State of New Hampshire, he could afford to chase butterflies. +</P> + +<P> +Professor Sterling was an old young man who had given up his life to +entomology; his collection of butterflies was more vital to him than any +living issue; the Bartletts regarded him as a mild order of lunatic, +whose madness might have taken a more dangerous form than making up long +names for every-day common bugs. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at him, just look at him, Looizy, sweating himself a day like this, +over a common dusty miller. It beats all, and with his money." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's a harmless amusement," said the kindly Louisa, "there's a +heap more harmful things that a man might chase than butterflies." +</P> + +<P> +The stillness of the midsummer day was broken by the sound of far-off +singing. It came in full-toned volume across the fields, the high +soaring of women's voices blended with the deeper harmony of men. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" said the Squire testily, looking in the direction of the +strawberry beds, from whence the singing came. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only the berry-pickers, father," said David, coming through the +field gate and going over to the well for a drink. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish they'd work more and sing less," said the Squire. "All this +singing business is too picturesque for me." +</P> + +<P> +"They've about finished, father. I came for the money to pay them off." +</P> + +<P> +It was characteristic of Dave to uphold the rights of the berry-pickers. +They were all friends of his, young men and women who sang in the village +choir and who went out among their neighbors' berry patches in summer, +and earned a little extra money in picking the fruit. The village +thought only the more of them for their thrift, and their singing at the +close of their work was generally regarded in the light of a favor. +Zeke, Sam, Cynthia and Amelia who formed the quartet, had all fine voices +and no social function for miles around Wakefield was complete without +their music. +</P> + +<P> +The Squire said no more about the berry-pickers. Dave handed him a paper +on which the time of each berry-picker and the amount of his or her wage +was marked opposite. The Squire took it and adjusted his glasses with a +certain grimness—he was honest to the core, but few things came harder +to him than parting with money. +</P> + +<P> +Dave and his mother at the churn exchanged a friendly wink. The +extracting of coin from the head of the house was no easy process. +Mother and son both enjoyed its accomplishment through an outside agency. +It was too hard a process in the home circle to be at all agreeable. +</P> + +<P> +While the Squire was wrestling with his arithmetic, Dave noticed a +strange girl pass by the outer gate, pause, go on and then return. He +looked at her with deep interest. She was so pale and tired-looking it +seemed as if she had not strength enough left to walk to the house. Her +long lashes rested wearily on the pale cheeks. She lifted them with an +effort, and Dave found himself staring eagerly in a pair of great, +sorrowful brown eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The girl came on unsteadily up the walk to where the Squire sat, thumbing +his account to the berry-pickers. "Well, girl, who are you?" he said, +not as unkindly as the words might imply. +</P> + +<P> +The sound of her own voice, as she tried to answer his question, was like +the far-off droning of a river. It did not seem to belong to her. "My +name is Moore—Anna Moore—and I thought—I hoped perhaps you might be +good enough to give me work." The strange faces spun about her eyes. +She tottered and would have fallen if Dave had not caught her. +</P> + +<P> +Dave, the silent, the slow of action, the cool-headed, seemed suddenly +bereft of his chilling serenity. "Here, mother, a chair; father, some +water, quick." He carried the swooning girl to the shadow of the porch +and fanned her tenderly with his broad-brimmed straw hat. +</P> + +<P> +The old people hastened to do his bidding. Dave, excited and issuing +orders in that tone, was too unusual to be passed over lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"What were you going to say, Miss Moore?" said the Squire as soon as the +brown eyes opened. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought, perhaps, I might find something to do here—I'm looking for +work." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Bartlett, smoothing the dark curls, "you are +not fit to stand, let alone work." +</P> + +<P> +"You could not earn your salt," was the Squire's less sympathetic way of +expressing the same sentiment. "Where is your home?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have no home." She looked at them desperately, her dark eyes +appealing to one and the other, as if they were the jury that held her +life in the balance. Only one pair of eyes seemed to hold out any hope. +</P> + +<P> +"If you would only try me I could soon prove to you that I am not +worthless." Unconsciously she held out her hand in entreaty. +</P> + +<P> +"Here we are, here we are, all off for Boston!" The voice was Hi's. He +was just turning in at the field gate with Kate beside him. Kate, a +ravishing vision, in pink muslin; a smiling, contented vision of happy, +rosy girlhood, coming back to the home-nest, where a thousand welcomes +awaited her. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, every one!" she said, running in and kissing them in turn, "how +nice it is to be home." +</P> + +<P> +They forgot the homeless stranger and her pleading for shelter in their +glad welcome to the daughter of the house. She had shrunk back into the +shadow. She had never felt the desolation, the utter loneliness of her +position so keenly before. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurrah for Kate!" cried the Squire, and everyone took it up and gave +three cheers for Kate Brewster. +</P> + +<P> +The wanderer withdrew into the deepest shadow of the porch, that her +alien presence might not mar the joyous home-coming of Kate Brewster. +There was no jealousy in her soul for the fair girl who had such a royal +welcome back to the home-nest. She would not have robbed her of it if +such a thing had been possible, but the sense of her own desolation +gripped at the heart like an iron band. +</P> + +<P> +She waited like a mendicant to beg for the chance of earning her bread. +That was all she asked—the chance to work, to eat the bread of +independence, and yet she knew how slim the chance was. She had been +wandering about seeking employment all day, and no one would give it. +</P> + +<P> +Only Dave had not forgotten the stranger is the joy of Kate's +home-coming. He had welcomed the flurry of excitement to say a few words +to his mother, his sworn ally in all the little domestic plots. +</P> + +<P> +"Mother," he said, "do contrive to keep that girl. It would be nothing +short of murder to turn her out on the highway." +</P> + +<P> +A pressure of the motherly hand assured Dave that he could rely on her +support. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, Katie," said the Squire with his arm around his niece's +waist, "the old place has been lonely without you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle, who is that girl on the porch?" she asked in an undertone. +</P> + +<P> +"That we don't know; says her name is Moore, and that she wants work. +Kind of sounds like a fairy story, don't it, Kate?" +</P> + +<P> +"Poor thing, poor thing!" was Kate's only answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Amasy," said Mrs. Bartlett, assuming all the courage of a rabbit about +to assert itself, "this family is bigger than it was with Kate home and +the professor here, and I am not getting younger—I want you to let me +keep this young woman to help me about the house." +</P> + +<P> +The Squire set his jaw, always an ominous sign to his family. "I don't +like this takin' strangers, folks we know nothing about; it's mighty +suspicious to see a young woman tramping around the country, without a +home, looking for work. I don't like it." +</P> + +<P> +The girl, who sat apart while these strangers considered taking her in, +as if she had been a friendless dog, arose, her eyes were full of unshed +tears, her voice quivered, but pride supported her. Turning to the +Squire, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"You are suspicious because you are blest with both home and family. My +mother died a few months ago, I myself have been ill. I make this +explanation not because your kindness warrants it, sir, but because your +family would have been willing to take me on faith." She bowed her head +in the direction of Mrs. Bartlett and Dave. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," the Squire interrupted, "you need not go away hungry, you can +stop here and eat your dinner, and then Hi Holler can take you in the +wagon to the place provided for such unfortunate cases, and where you'll +have food and shelter." +</P> + +<P> +"The poor farm, do you mean?" the girl said, wildly; "no, no; if you will +not give me work I will not take your charity." +</P> + +<P> +"Father!" exclaimed Dave and his mother together. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, now," said Kate, going up to the Squire and putting her hands on +his shoulders, "it seems to me as if my uncle's been getting a little +hard while I've been away from home, and I don't think it has improved +him a bit. The uncle I left here had a heart as big as a house. What +has he done with it?" +</P> + +<P> +Here the professor came to Kate's aid. "Squire," said he, "isn't it +written that 'If ye do it unto the least of these, ye do it unto me?'" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well," said the Squire, "when a man's family are against him, +there's only one thing for him to do if he wants any peace of mind, and +that is to come round to their way, and I ain't never goin' to have it +said I went agin the <I>Scripter</I>." He went over to Anna and took her +pale, thin hand in his great brown one. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, little woman, they want you to stay, and I am not going to +interfere. I leave it to you that I won't live to regret it." +</P> + +<P> +This time the tears splashed down the pale cheeks. "Dear sir, I thank +you, and I promise you shall never repent this kindness." Then turning +to the rest—"I thank you all. I can only repay you by doing my best." +</P> + +<P> +"Well said, well said," and Kate gave her a sisterly pat on the shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Anna would not listen to Mrs. Bartlett's kind suggestion that she should +rest a little while. She went immediately to the house, removed her hat, +and returned completely enveloped in a big gingham apron that proved +wonderfully becoming to her dark beauty—or was it that the homeless, +hunted look had gone out of those sorrowful eyes? +</P> + +<P> +And so Anna Moore had found a home at last, one in which she would have +to work early and late to retain a foothold—but still a home, and the +word rang in her ears like a soothing song, after the anguish of the last +year. Her youth and beauty, she had long since discovered, were only +barriers to the surroundings she sought. There had been many who offered +to help the friendless girl, but their offers were such that death seemed +preferable, by contrast, and Anna had gone from place to place, seeking +only the right to earn her bread, and yet, finding only temptation and +danger. +</P> + +<P> +Dave, passing out to the barn, stopped for a moment to regard her, as she +sat on the lowest step of the porch, with her sleeves rolled above the +elbow, working a bowl of butter. He smiled at her encouragingly—it was +well that none of his family saw it. Such a smile from the shy, silent +Dave might have been a revelation to the home circle. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-088"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-088.jpg" ALT="Martha Perkins and Maria Poole." BORDER="2" WIDTH="578" HEIGHT="426"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Martha Perkins and Maria Poole.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ANNA AND SANDERSON AGAIN MEET. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd<BR> +Nor hell a fury like a woman scorn'd."—<I>Congreve</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"And who be you, with those big brown eyes, sitting on the Bartlett's +porch working that butter as if you've been used to handling butter all +your life? No city girl, I'm sure." Anna had been at the Squire's for +a week when the above query was put to her. +</P> + +<P> +The voice was high and rasping. The whole sentence was delivered +without breath or pause, as if it was one long word. The speaker might +have been the old maid as portrayed in the illustrated weekly. Nothing +was lacking—corkscrew curls, prunella boots, cameo brooch and chain, a +gown of the antiquated Redingote type, trimmed with many small ruffles +and punctuated, irrelevantly, with immovable buttons. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Anna Moore." +</P> + +<P> +"Know as much now as I ever did," snapped the interlocutor. +</P> + +<P> +"I have come to work for Mrs. Bartlett, to help her about the house." +</P> + +<P> +"Land sakes. Bartlett's keeping help! How stylish they're getting." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Marthy, we are progressing," said Kate, coming out of the house. +"Anna, this is our friend, Miss Marthy Perkins." +</P> + +<P> +The village gossip's confusion was but momentary. "Do you know, Kate, +I just came over a-purpose to see if you'd come. What kind of clothes +are they wearing in Boston? Are shirtwaists going to have tucked backs +or plain? I am going to make over my gray alpaca, and I wouldn't put +the scissors into it till I seen you." +</P> + +<P> +"Come upstairs, Marthy, and I'll show you my new shirtwaists." +</P> + +<P> +"Land sakes," said the spinster, bridling. "I would be delighted, but +you know how I can't move without that Seth Holcomb a-taggin' after me; +it's just awful the way I am persecuted. I do wish I'd get old and +then there'll be an end of it." She held out a pair of mittens, +vintage of 1812, to Kate, appealingly. +</P> + +<P> +Seth Holcomb stumped in sight as she concluded; he had been Martha's +faithful admirer these twenty years, but she would never reward him; +her hopes of younger and less rheumatic game seemed to spring eternal. +</P> + +<P> +During the few days that Anna had made one of the Squire's family she +went about with deep thankfulness in her heart; she had been given the +chance to work, to earn her bread by these good people. Who could +tell—as time went on perhaps they would grow fond of her, learn to +regard her as one of themselves—it was so much better than being so +utterly alone. +</P> + +<P> +Her energy never flagged, she did her share of the work with the light +hand of experience that delighted the old housekeeper. It was so good +to feel a roof over her head, and to feel that she was earning her +right to it. +</P> + +<P> +Supper had been cooked, the table laid and everything was in readiness +for the family meal, but the old clock wanted five minutes of the hour; +the girl came out into the glowing sunset to draw a pail of water from +the old well, but paused to enjoy the scene. Purple, gold and crimson +was the mantle of the departing day; and all her crushed and hopeless +youth rose, cheered by its glory. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank God," she murmured fervently, "at last I have found a refuge. I +am beginning life again. The shadow of the old one will rest on me +forever, but time and work, the cure for every grief, will cure me." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes had been turned toward the west, where the day was going out +in such a riot of splendor, and she had not noticed the man who entered +the gate and was making his way toward her, flicking his boots with his +riding crop as he walked. +</P> + +<P> +She turned suddenly at the sound of steps on the gravel; in the +gathering darkness neither could see nor recognize the other till they +were face to face. +</P> + +<P> +The woman's face blanched, she stifled an exclamation of horror and +stared at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You! you here!" +</P> + +<P> +It was Lennox Sanderson, and the sight of him, so suddenly, in this +out-of-the-way place, made her reel, almost fainting against the +well-curb. +</P> + +<P> +He grabbed her arm and shook her roughly, and said, "What are you doing +here, in this place?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am trying to earn my living. Go, go," she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think I came here after you?" he sneered. "I've come to see +the Squire." All the selfishness and cowardice latent in Sanderson's +character were reflected in his face, at that moment, destroying its +natural symmetry, disfiguring it with tell-tale lines, and showing him +at his par value—a weak, contemptible libertine, brought to bay. +</P> + +<P> +This meeting with his victim after all these long months of silence, in +this remote place, deprived him, momentarily, of his customary poise +and equilibrium. Why was she here? Would she denounce him to these +people? What effect would it have? were some of the questions that +whirled through his brain as they stood together in the gathering +twilight. +</P> + +<P> +But the shrinking look in her eyes allayed his fears. He read terror +in every line of her quivering figure, and in the frantic way she clung +to the well-curb to increase the space between them. She, with the +right to accuse, unconsciously took the attitude of supplication. The +man knew he had nothing to fear, and laid his plans accordingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe you've come here to look for work," he said, stooping +over the crouching figure. "You've come here to make trouble—to hound +the life out of me." +</P> + +<P> +"My hope in coming here was that I might never see you again. What +could I want of you, Lennox Sanderson?" +</P> + +<P> +The measured contempt of her tones was not without its effect. He +winced perceptibly, but his coarse instincts rallied to his help and +again he began to bully: +</P> + +<P> +"Spare me the usual hard-luck story of the deceived young woman trying +to make an honest living. If you insist on drudging, it's your own +fault. I offered to take care of you and provide for your future, but +you received my offers of assistance with a 'Villain-take-your-gold' +style, that I was not prepared to accept. If, as you say, you never +wish to see me again, what is simpler than to go away?" +</P> + +<P> +His cold-blooded indifference, his utter withdrawal from the calamity +he had brought upon her, his airy suggestion that she should go because +it suited his pleasure to remain, maddened Anna. The blood rushed to +her pale cheeks and there came her old conquering beauty with it. She +eyed him with equal defiance. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall not go, because it does not suit me." And then wavering a +little at the thought of her wretched experience—"I had too much +trouble finding a place where an honest home is offered for honest +work, to leave this one for your whim. No, I shall not go." +</P> + +<P> +They heard footsteps moving about the house. A lamp shone out from the +dining-room window. The Squire's voice, inquiring for Kate, came +across to them on the still summer air. They looked into each other's +pale, determined faces. Which would yield? It was the old struggle +between the sexes—a struggle old as earth, unsettled as chaos. +</P> + +<P> +Which should yield? The man who had sinned much, or the woman who had +loved much? +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson employed all the force of his brutality to frighten Anna into +yielding. "See here," and he caught her arm in no uncertain grasp. +"You've got to go. You can't stay here in the same place with me. If +money is what you want, you shall have it; but you've got to go. Do +you understand? <I>Go</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +He had emphasized his words by tightening the grip on her arm, and the +pain of it well nigh made her cry out. He relaxed his hold just as Hi +Holler came out on the porch, seized the supper horn and blew it +furiously. The Squire came down and looked amazed at the smartly +dressed young city man talking to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +"Squire," she said, taking the initiative, "this gentleman is inquiring +for you." +</P> + +<P> +On hearing the Squire's footsteps, Sanderson turned to him with all the +cordiality at his command, and, slapping him on the back, said: "Hello, +Squire, I've just ridden over to talk to you about your prize Jersey +heifer." The Squire had only met Sanderson once or twice before, and +that was prior to Kate's visit to Boston; but he knew all about the +young man who had become his neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +Lennox Sanderson was a lucky fellow, and while waiting impatiently for +his father to start him in life, his uncle, the judge, died and +mentioned no one but Lennox Sanderson in his will. +</P> + +<P> +The Squire had known the late Judge Sanderson, the "big man" of the +county, very well, and lost no time in cultivating the acquaintance of +the judge's nephew, who had fallen heir to the fine property the judge +had accumulated, no small part of which was the handsome "country seat" +of the judge in the neighborhood. +</P> + +<P> +That is how this fine young city man happened to drop in on the Squire +so unceremoniously. He had learned of Kate's return from Boston and +was hastening to pay his respects to the pretty girl. To say he was +astounded to find Anna on the spot is putting it mildly. He believed +she had learned of his good fortune and had followed him, to make +disagreeable exactions. It put him in a rage and it cost him a strong +effort to conceal it before the Squire. +</P> + +<P> +"Walk right in," said the Squire, beaming with hospitality. Sanderson +entered and the girl found herself alone in the twilight. Anna sat on +the bench by the well-curb and faced despair. She was physically so +weak from her long and recent illness that the unexpected interview +with Sanderson left her faint and exhausted. The momentary flare up of +her righteous indignation at Sanderson's outrageous proposition that +she should go away had sapped her strength and she made ready to meet +one of the great crises of life with nerveless, trembling body and a +mind incapable of action. +</P> + +<P> +She pressed her throbbing head on the cool stones of the well-curb and +prayed for light. What could she do—where could she go? Her fate +rose up before her like a great stone prison wall at which she beat +with naked bleeding hand and the stones still stood in all their +mightiness. +</P> + +<P> +How could she cope with such heartless cruelty as that of Sanderson? +All that she had asked for was an honest roof in return for honest +toil. And there are so few such, thought the helpless girl, +remembering with awful vividness her efforts to find work and the +pitfalls and barriers that had been put in her way, often in the guise +of friendly interest. +</P> + +<P> +She could not go out and face it all over again. It was so bleak—so +bleak. There seemed to be no place in the great world that she could +fill, no one stood in need of her help, no one required her services. +They had no faith in her story that she was looking for work and had no +home. +</P> + +<P> +"What, a good-looking young girl like you! What, no home? No, no; we +don't need you," or the other frightful alternative. +</P> + +<P> +And yet she must go. Sanderson was right. She could not stay where he +was. She must go. But where? +</P> + +<P> +She could hear his voice in the dining-room, entertaining them all with +his inimitable gift of story-telling. And then, their laughter—peal +on peal of it—and his voice cutting in, with its well-bred modulation: +"Yes, I thought it was a pretty good story myself, even if the joke was +on me." And again their laughter and applause. She had no weapons +with which to fight such cold-blooded selfishness. To stay meant +eternal torture. She saw herself forced to face his complacent sneer +day after day and death on the roadside seemed preferable. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to face the situation in all its pitiful reality, but the +injustice of it cried out for vengeance and she could not think. She +could only bury her throbbing temples in her hands and murmur over and +over again: "It is all wrong." +</P> + +<P> +David found her thus, as he made his way to the house from the barn, +where he had been detained later than the others. When he saw her +forlorn little figure huddled by the well-curb in an attitude of +absolute dejection, he could not go on without saying some word of +comfort. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Anna," he said very gently, "I hope you are not going to be +homesick with us." +</P> + +<P> +She lifted a pale, tear-stained face, on which the lines of suffering +were written far in advance of her years. +</P> + +<P> +"It does not matter, Mr. David," she answered him, "I am going away." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, you are not going to do anything of the kind," he said gently; +"the work seems hard today because it is new, but in a day or two you +will become accustomed to it, and to us. We may seem a bit hard and +unsympathetic; I can see you are not used to our ways of living, and +looking at things, but we are sincere, and we want you to stay with us; +indeed, we do." +</P> + +<P> +She gave him a wealth of gratitude from her beautiful brown eyes. "It +is not that I find the place hard, Mr. David. Every one has been so +kind to me that I would be glad to stay, but—but——" +</P> + +<P> +He did not press her for her reason. "You have been ill, I believe you +said?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, very ill indeed, and there are not many who would give work to a +delicate girl. Oh, I am sorry to go——" She broke off wildly, and +the tears filled her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Anna, when one is ill, it's hard to know what is best. Don't +make up your mind just yet. Stay for a few days and give us a trial, +and just call on me when you want a bucket of water or anything else +that taxes your strength." +</P> + +<P> +She tried to answer him but could not. They were the first words of +real kindness, after all these months of sorrow and loneliness, and +they broke down the icy barrier that seemed to have enclosed her heart. +She bent her head and wept silently. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, little woman," he said, patting her shoulder when he +would have given anything to put his arm around her and offer her the +devotion of his life. But Dave had a good bit of hard common sense +under his hat, and he knew that such a declaration would only hasten +her departure and the wise young man continued to be brotherly, to urge +her to stay for his mother's sake, and because it was so hard for a +young woman to find the proper kind of a home, and really she was not a +good judge of what was best for her. +</P> + +<P> +And Anna, whose storm-swept soul was so weary of beating against the +rocks, listened and made up her mind to enjoy the wholesome +companionship of these good people, for a little while at least. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +RUSTIC HOSPITALITY. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crowned,<BR> +Where all the ruddy family around<BR> +Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,<BR> +Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale."—<I>Goldsmith</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Sanderson's clothes, his manner, his slightly English accent, were all +so many items in a good letter of credit to those simple people. The +Squire was secretly proud at having a city man like young Sanderson for +a neighbor. It would unquestionably add tone to Wakefield society. +</P> + +<P> +Kate regarded him with the frank admiration of a young woman who +appreciates a smart appearance, good manner, and the indefinable +something that goes to make up the ensemble of the man of the world. +He could say nothing, cleverly; he had little subtleties of manner that +put the other men she had met to poor advantage beside him. On the +night in question the Squire was giving a supper in honor of the +berry-pickers who had helped to gather in the crop the week before. +Afterwards, they would sing the sweet, homely songs that all the +village loved, and then troop home by moonlight to the accompaniment of +their own music. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mr. Sanderson," said the Squire, "suppose you stay to supper +with us. See, we've lots of good company"—and he waved his hand, +indicating the different groups, "and we'll talk about the stock +afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +He accepted their invitation to supper with flattering alacrity; they +were so good to take pity on a solitaire, and Mrs. Bartlett was such a +famous housekeeper; he had heard of her apple-pies in Boston. Dave +scented patronage in his "citified" air; he and other young men at the +table—young men who helped about the farm—resented everything about +the stranger from the self-satisfied poise of his head to the +aggressive gloss on his riding-boots. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Dave," said Kate to her cousin in an undertone, "you look +positively fierce. If I had a particle of vanity I should say you were +jealous." +</P> + +<P> +"When I get jealous, Kate, it will be of a man, not of a tailor's sign." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Miss Kate," said Hi Holler, "they're a couple of old lengths of +stove-pipes out in the loft; I'm going to polish 'em up for leggins. +Darned if I let any city dude get ahead o' me." +</P> + +<P> +"The green-eyed monster is driving you all crazy," laughed Kate, in +great good humor. "The girls don't seem to find any fault with him." +Cynthia and Amelia were both regarding him with admiring glances. +</P> + +<P> +Dave turned away in some impatience. Involuntarily his eyes sought out +Anna Moore to see if she, too, was adding her quota of admiration to +the stranger's account. But Anna had no eyes or ears for anything but +the business of the moment, which was attending to the Squire's guests. +Evidently one woman could retain her senses in the presence of this +tailor's figure. Dave's admiration of Anna went up several points. +</P> + +<P> +She slipped about as quietly as a spirit, removing and replacing dishes +with exquisite deftness. Even the Squire was forced to acknowledge +that she was a great acquisition to the household. She neither sought +to avoid nor to attract the attention of Sanderson; she waited on him +attentively and unobtrusively as she would have waited on any other +guest at the Squire's table. The Squire and Sanderson retired to the +porch to discuss the purchase of the stock, and Mrs. Bartlett and Anna +set to work to clear away the dishes. Kate excused herself from +assisting, as she had to assume the position as hostess and soon had +the church choir singing in its very best style. Song after song rang +out on the clear summer air. It was a treat not likely to be forgotten +soon by the listeners. All the members of the choir had what is known +as "natural talent," joined to which there was a very fair amount of +cultivation, and the result was music of a most pleasing type, music +that touches the heart—not a mere display Of vocal gymnastics. +</P> + +<P> +Toward the close of the festivities, the sound of wheels was heard, and +the cracked voice of Rube Whipple, the town constable, urging his +ancient nag to greater speed, issued out of the darkness. Rube was +what is known as a "character." He had held the office, which on +account of being associated with him had become a sort of municipal +joke, in the earliest recollections of the oldest inhabitants. He +apparently got no older. For the past fifty years he had looked as if +he had been ready to totter into the grave at any moment, but he took +it out apparently, in attending to other people's funerals instead. +His voice was cracked, he walked with a limp, and his clothes, Hi +Holler said: "was the old suit Noah left in the ark." +</P> + +<P> +The choir had just finished singing "Rock of Ages" as the constable +turned his venerable piece of horseflesh into the front yard. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well," he said, in a voice like a graphophone badly in need of +repair, "I might have knowed it was the choir kicking up all that +rumpus. Heard the row clear up to the postoffice, and thought I'd come +up to see if anyone was getting murdered." +</P> + +<P> +"Thought you'd be on the spot for once, did you, Rube?" inquired Hi +Holler. "Well, seeing you're here, we might accommodate you, by +getting up a murder, or a row, or something. 'Twould be too bad to +have nothing happen, seeing you are on hand for once." +</P> + +<P> +The choir joined heartily in the laugh on the constable, who waited +till it had subsided and then said: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what's the matter with jailing all of you for disturbing the +public peace. There's law for it—'disturbin' the public peace with +strange sounds at late and unusual hours of the night.'" +</P> + +<P> +"All right, constable," said Cynthia, "I suppose you'll drive us to +jail in that rig o' yourn. I'd be willing to stay there six months for +the sake o' driving behind so spry a piece of horse-flesh as that." +</P> + +<P> +"'Tain't the horseflesh she's after, constable, it's the driver. +Everyone 'round here knows how Cynthia dew admire you." +</P> + +<P> +"Professional jealousy is what's at the bottom of this," declared Kate, +"the choir is jealous of Uncle Rube's reputation as a singer, and Uncle +Rube does not care for the choir's new-fangled methods of singing. +Rivalry! Rivalry! That's what the matter." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, Miss Kate," squeaked the constable, "they're jealous of +my singing. There ain't one of 'em, with all their scaling, and +do-re-mi-ing can touch me. If I turned professional to-day, I'd make +more'n all of 'em put together." +</P> + +<P> +"That's cause they'd pay you to quit. Ha, ha," said Hi Holler. +</P> + +<P> +And so the evening passed with the banter that invariably took place +when Rube was of the party. It was late when they left the Squire's, +the constable going along with them, and all singing merrily as birds +on a summer morning. +</P> + +<P> +David went out under the stars and smoked innumerable pipes, but they +did not give their customary solace to-night. There was an upheaval +going on in his well regulated mind. "Who was she? What was the +mystery about her? How did a girl like that come to be tramping about +the country looking for work?" Her manner of speaking, the very +intonations of her voice, her choice of words, all proclaimed her from +a different world from theirs. He had noticed her hands, white and +fragile, and her small delicate wrists. They did not belong to a +working woman. +</P> + +<P> +And her eyes, that seemed to hold the sorrows of centuries in their +liquid depths. What was the mystery of it all? And that insolent city +chap! What a look he had given her. The memory of it made Dave's +hands come together as if he were strangling something. But it was all +too deep for him. The lights glimmered in the rooms upstairs. His +father walked to the outer gate to say good-night to Mr. Sanderson—and +he tried to justify the feeling of hatred he felt toward Sanderson, but +could not. The sound of a shutter being drawn in, caused him to look +up. Anna, leaned out in the moonlight for a moment before drawing in +the blind. Dave took off his hat—it was an unconscious act of +reverence. The next moment, the grave, shy countryman had smiled at +his sentimentality. The shutters closed and all was dark, but Dave +continued to think and smoke far into the night. +</P> + +<P> +The days slipped by in pleasant and even tenor. The summer burned +itself out in a riot of glorious colors, the harvest was gathered in, +and the ripe apples fell from the trees—and there was a wail of coming +winter to the night wind. Anna Moore had made her place in the +Bartlett family. The Squire could not imagine how he ever got along +without her; she always thought of everyone's comfort and remembered +their little individual likes and dislikes, till the whole household +grew to depend on her. +</P> + +<P> +But she never spoke of herself nor referred to her family, friends or +manner of living, before coming to the Bartlett farm. +</P> + +<P> +When she had first come among them, her beauty had caused a little +ripple of excitement among the neighbors; the young men, in particular, +were all anxious to take her to husking bees and quilting parties, but +she always had some excellent excuse for not going, and while her +refusals were offered with the utmost kindness, there was a quiet +dignity about the girl that made any attempt at rustic playfulness or +familiarity impossible. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson came to the house from time to time, but Anna treated him +precisely as she would have treated any other young man who came to the +Squire's. She was the family "help," her duty stopped in announcing +the guests—or sometimes, and then she felt that fate had been +particularly cruel—in waiting on him at table. +</P> + +<P> +Once or twice when Sanderson had found her alone, he had attempted to +speak to her. But she silenced him with a look that seat him away +cowering like a whipped cur. If he had any interest in any member of +the Squire's family, Anna did not notice it. He was an ugly scar on +her memory, and when not actually in his presence she tried to forget +that he lived. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +KATE BREWSTER HOLDS SANDERSON'S ATTENTION. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch<BR> +Incapable of pity, void and empty<BR> +From any dram of mercy."—<I>Shakespeare</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was perhaps owing to the fact that Anna strove hourly to eliminate +the memory of Lennox Sanderson from her life, that she remained wholly +unaware of that which every member of the Squire's household was +beginning to notice: namely, that Lennox Sanderson was becoming daily +more attentive to Kate Brewster. +</P> + +<P> +She had more than once hazarded a guess on why a man of Sanderson's +tastes should care to remain in so quiet a neighborhood, but could +arrive at no solution of the case. In discussing him, she had heard +the Bartletts quote his reason, that he was studying practical farming, +and later on intended to take it up, on a large scale. When she had +first seen him at the Squire's, she had made up her mind that it would +be better for her to go away, but the memory of the homeless wanderings +she had endured after her mother's death, filled her with terror, and +after the first shock of seeing Sanderson, she concluded that it was +better to remain where she was, unless he should attempt to force his +society on her, in which case she would have to go, if she died by the +wayside. +</P> + +<P> +Dave was coming across the fields late one autumn afternoon when he saw +Anna at the well, trying with all her small strength to draw up a +bucket of water. The well—one of the old-fashioned kind that worked +by a "sweep" and pole, at the end of which hung "the old oaken bucket" +which Anna drew up easily till the last few feet and then found it was +hard work. She had both hands on the iron bale of the bucket and was +panting a little, when a deep, gentle voice said in her ear: "Let go, +little woman, that's too heavy for you." And she felt the bucket taken +forcibly out of her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind me, Mr. David," she said, giving way reluctantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Always at some hard work or other," he said; "you won't quit till you +get laid up sick." +</P> + +<P> +He filled the water-pail from the bucket for her, which she took up and +was about to go when he found courage to say: +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you stay a minute, Anna, I want to talk to you. +</P> + +<P> +"Anna, have you any relatives?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not now." +</P> + +<P> +"But have you no friends who knew you and loved you before you came to +us?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want nothing of my friends, Mr. David, but their good will." +</P> + +<P> +"Anna, why will you persist in cutting yourself off from the rest of +the world like this? You are too good, too womanly a girl, to lead +this colorless kind of an existence forever." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him pleadingly out of her beautiful eyes. "Mr. David, +you would not be intentionally cruel to me, I know, so don't speak to +me of these things. It only distresses <I>me</I>—and can do you no good." +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me, Anna, I would not hurt you for the world—but you must +know that I love you. Don't you think you could ever grow to care for +me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. David, I shall never marry any one. Do not ask me to explain, and +I beg of you, if you have a feeling of even ordinary kindness for me. +that you will never mention this subject to me again. You remember how +I promised your father that if he would let me make my home with you, +he should never live to regret it? Do you think that I intend to repay +the dearest wish of his heart in this way? Why, Mr. David, you are +engaged to marry Kate." She took up the water-pail to go. +</P> + +<P> +"Kate's one of the best girls alive, but I feel toward her like a +brother. Besides, Anna, what have you been doing with those big brown +eyes of yours? Don't you see that Kate and Lennox Sanderson are head +over heels in love with each other?" +</P> + +<P> +The pail of water slipped from Anna's hand and sent a flood over +David's boots. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no—anything but that! You don't know what you are saying!" +</P> + +<P> +Dave looked at her in absolute amazement. He had no chance to reply. +As if in answer to his remark, there came through the outer gate, Kate +and Sanderson arm in arm. They had been gathering golden-rod, and +their arms were full of the glory of autumn. +</P> + +<P> +There was a certain assumption of proprietary right in the way that +Sanderson assisted Kate with the golden-rod that Anna recognized. She +knew it, and falseness of it burned through, her like so much corrosive +acid. She stood with the upturned pail at her feet, unable to recover +her composure, her bosom heaving high, her eyes dilating. She stood +there, wild as a startled panther, uncertain whether to fight or fly. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know what a good time we've been having," Kate called out. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Anna dear, I was right," David said to her. +</P> + +<P> +But Anna did not answer. Sorrow had broken her on its wheel. Where +was the justice of it? Why should he go forth to seek his +happiness—and find it—and she cower in shame through all the years to +come? +</P> + +<P> +Dave saw that she had forgotten his presence; she stood there in the +gathering night with wild, unseeing eyes. Memory had turned back the +hands of the clock till it pointed out that fatal hour on another +golden afternoon in autumn, and Sanderson, the hero of the hour, had +come to her with the marks of battle still upon him, and as the crowd +gave away for him, right and left, he had said: "I could not help +winning with your eyes on me." +</P> + +<P> +Oh, the lying dishonor of it! It was not jealousy that prompted her, +for a moment, to go to Kate and tell her all. What right had such +vultures as he to be received, smiled upon, courted, caressed? If +there was justice on earth, his sin should have been branded on him, +that other women might take warning. +</P> + +<P> +Dave knew that her thoughts had flown miles wide of him, and his +unselfishness told him that it would be kindness to go into the house +and leave her to herself, which he did with a heavy heart and many +misgivings. +</P> + +<P> +Hi Holler had none of Dave's sensitiveness. He saw Anna standing by +the gate, and being a loquacious soul, who saw no advantage in silence, +if there was a fellow creature to talk to; he came up grinning: "Say, +Anna, I wonder if me and you was both thinkin' about the same thing—I +was thinkin' as I seen Sanderson and Kate passing that I certainly +would enjoy a piece o' weddin' cake, don't care whose it was." +</P> + +<P> +"No, Hi," Anna said, being careful to restrain any bitterness of tone, +"I certainly was not wishing for a wedding cake." +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly do like wedding cake, Anna, but then, I like everything to +eat. Some folks don't like one thing, some folks don't like another. +Difference between them an' me is, I like everything." +</P> + +<P> +Anna laughed in spite of herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, since I like everything, and I like it all the time, why, I ain't +more than swallowed the last buckwheat for breakfast, than I am ready +for dinner. You don't s'pose I'm sick or anything, do you, Anna?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think the symptoms sound alarming, Hi." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you take a load off my mind, Anna, cause I was getting scared +about myself." Seeing the empty water-pail, Hi refilled it and carried +it in the house for Anna. Dave was not the only one in that household +who was miserable, owing to Cupid's unaccountable antics. Professor +Sterling, the well-paying summer boarder, continued to remain with the +Bartletts, though summer, the happy season during which the rustic may +square his grudge with the city man within his gates, had long since +passed. +</P> + +<P> +The professor had spared enough time from his bugs and beetles to +notice how blue Kate's eyes were, and how luxurious her hair; then he +had also, with some misgivings, regarded his own in the mirror, with +the unassuring result that his hair was thinning on top and his eyes +looked old through his gold-bowed spectacles. +</P> + +<P> +The discovery did not meet with the indifference one might have +expected on the part of the conscientious entomologist. He fell even +to the depths of reading hair-restoring circulars and he spent +considerable time debating whether he should change his spectacles for +a pince-nez. +</P> + +<P> +The spectacles, however, continued to do their work nobly for the +professor, not only assisting him to make his scientific observations +on the habits of a potato-bug in captivity, but showing him with far +more clearness that Kate Brewster and Lennox Sanderson contrived to +spend a great deal of time in each other's society, and that both +seemed to enjoy the time thus spent. +</P> + +<P> +The professor went back to his beetles, but they palled. The most +gorgeous butterfly ever constructed had not one-tenth the charm for him +that was contained in a glance of Kate Brewster's eyes, or a glimpse of +her golden head as she flitted about the house. And so the autumn +waned. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE QUALITY OF MERCY +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Teach me to feel another's woe,<BR> +To hide the fault I see;<BR> +That mercy I to others show,<BR> +That mercy show to me."—<I>Pope</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Sanderson, during his visits to the Bartlett farm—and they became more +frequent as time went on—would look at Anna with cold curiosity, not +unmixed with contempt, when by chance they happened to be alone for a +moment. But the girl never displayed by so much as the quiver of an +eye-lash that she had ever seen him before. +</P> + +<P> +Had Lennox Sanderson been capable of fathoming Anna Moore, or even of +reading her present marble look or tone, he would have seen that he had +little to apprehend from her beyond contempt, a thing he would not in +the least have minded; but he was cunning, and like the cunning +shallow. So he began to formulate plans for making things even with +Anna—in other words, buying her off. +</P> + +<P> +His admiration for Kate deepened in proportion as the square of that +young woman's reserve increased. She was not only the first woman who +refused to burn incense at his shrine, but also the first who frankly +admitted that she found him amusing. She mildly guyed his accent, his +manner of talking, his London clothes, his way of looking at things. +Never having lived near a university town, she escaped the traditional +hero worship. It was a new sensation for Sanderson, and eventually he +succumbed to it. +</P> + +<P> +"You know, Miss Kate," he said one day, "you are positively the most +refreshing girl I have ever met. You don't know how much I love you." +</P> + +<P> +Kate considered for a moment. There was a hint of patronage, it seemed +to her, in his compliment, that she did not care for. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, consider the debt cancelled, Mr. Sanderson. You have not found my +rustic simplicity any more refreshing than I have found your poster +waistcoats." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you persist is misunderstanding and hurting me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I apologize to your waistcoats, Mr. Sanderson. I have long considered +them the substitute for your better nature." +</P> + +<P> +"Better natures and that sort of thing have rather gone out of style, +haven't they?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are always out of style with people who never had them." +</P> + +<P> +"Is this quarreling, Kate, or making love?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, let's make it quarreling, Mr. Sanderson. And now about that horse +you lent me. That's a vile bit you've got on him." And the +conversation turned to other things, as it always did when he tried to +be sentimental with Kate. Sometimes he thought it was not the girl, +but her resistance, that he admired so much. +</P> + +<P> +Things in the Bartlett household were getting a bit uneasy. The Squire +chafed that his cherished project of Kate and Dave's marrying seemed no +nearer realization now than it had been two years ago. +</P> + +<P> +Dave's equable temper vanished under the strain and uncertainty +regarding Anna Moore's silence and apparent indifference to him. He +would have believed her before all the world; her side of the story was +the only version for him; but Anna did not see fit to break her +silence. When he would approach her on the subject she would only say: +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. David, your father employs me as a servant. I try to do my work +faithfully, but my past life concerns no one but myself." +</P> + +<P> +And Dave, fearing that she might leave them, if he continued to force +his attentions on her, held his peace. The thought of losing even the +sight of her about the house wrung his heart. He could not bear to +contemplate the long winter days uncheered by her gentle presence. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly Thanksgiving. The first snow had come and covered up +everything that was bare and unsightly in the landscape with its +beautiful mantle of white, and Anna, sitting by the window, dropped the +stocking she was darning to press the bitter tears back to her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The snow had but one thought for her. She saw it falling, falling soft +and feathery on a baby's grave in the Episcopal Cemetery at Somerville. +She shivered; it was as if the flakes were falling on her own warm +flesh. +</P> + +<P> +If she could but go to that little grave and lie down among the +feathery flakes and forget it all, it would be so much easier than this +eternal struggle to live. What had life in store for her? There was +the daily drudgery, years and years of it, and always the crushing +knowledge of injustice. +</P> + +<P> +She knew how it would be. Scandal would track her down—put a price on +her head; these people who had given her a home would hear, and what +would all her months of faithful service avail? +</P> + +<P> +"Is this true?" she already heard the Squire say in imagination, and +she should have to answer: "Yes"—and there would be the open door and +the finger pointing to her to go. +</P> + +<P> +She heard the Squire's familiar step on the stair; unconsciously, she +crouched lower; had he come to tell her to go? +</P> + +<P> +But the Squire came in whistling, a picture of homely contentment, +hands in pocket, smiling jovially. She knew there must be no telltale +tears on her cheeks, even if her heart was crying out in the cold and +snow. She knew the bitterness of being denied the comfort of tears. +It was but one of the hideous train of horrors that pursued a woman in +her position. +</P> + +<P> +She forced them back and met the Squire with a smile that was all the +sweeter for the effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's your chair, Squire, all ready waiting for you, and the only +thing you want to make you perfectly happy—is—guess?" She held out +his old corncob pipe, filled to perfection. +</P> + +<P> +"I declare, Anna, you are just spoiling me, and some day you'll be +going off and getting married to some of these young fellows 'round +here, and where will I be then?" +</P> + +<P> +"You need have no fears on that score," she said, struggling to +maintain a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, that's what girls always say, but I don't know what we'll +do without you. How long have you been with us, now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see," counting on her fingers: "just six months." +</P> + +<P> +"So it is, my dear. Well, I hope it will be six years before you think +of leaving us. And, Anna, while we are talking, I like to say to you +that I have felt pretty mean more than once about the way I treated you +that first day you come." +</P> + +<P> +"Pray, do not mention it, Squire. Your kindness since has quite made +me forget that you hesitated to take an utter stranger into your +household." +</P> + +<P> +"That was it, my dear—an utter stranger—and you cannot really blame +me; here was Looizy and Kate and I was asked to take into the house +with them a young woman whom I had never set eyes on before; it seemed +to me a trifle risky, but you've proved that I was wrong, my dear, and +I'll admit it." +</P> + +<P> +The girl dropped the stocking she was mending; her trembling hand +refused to support even the pretense of work. Outside the snow was +falling just as it was falling, perhaps, on the little grave where all +her youth and hope were buried. +</P> + +<P> +The thought gave her courage to speak, though the pale lips struggled +pitifully to frame the words. +</P> + +<P> +"Squire, suppose that when I came to you that day last June you had +been right—I am only saying this for the sake of argument, Squire—but +suppose that I had been a deceived girl, that I had come here to begin +all over again; to live down the injustice, the scandal and all the +other things that unfortunate woman have to live down, would you still +have felt the same?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Anna, I never heard you talk like this before; of course I should +have felt the same; if a commandment is broke, it's broke; nothing can +alter that, can it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But, Squire, is there no mercy, no chance held out to the woman who +has been unfortunate?" +</P> + +<P> +"Anna, these arguments don't sound well from a proper behaving young +woman like you. I know it's the fashion nowadays for good women to +talk about mercy to their fallen sisters, but it's a mistake. When a +woman falls, she loses her right to respect, and that's the end of it." +</P> + +<P> +She turned her face to the storm and the softly falling flakes were no +whiter than her face. +</P> + +<P> +As Anna turned to leave the room on some pretext, she saw Kate coming +in with a huge bunch of Jacqueminot roses in her hand. Of course, +Sanderson had sent them. The perfume of them sickened Anna, as the +odor of a charnel house might have done. She tried to smile bravely +at Kate, who smiled back triumphantly as she went in to show her uncle +the flowers. But the sight of them was like the turning of a knife in +a festering wound. +</P> + +<P> +Anna made her way to the kitchen. Dave was sitting there smoking. +Anna found strength and sustenance in his mere presence, though she did +not say a word to him, but he was such a faithful soul. Good, honest +Dave. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VILLAGE GOSSIP SNIFFS SCANDAL. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Flavia, most tender of her own good name,<BR> +Is rather careless of her sister's fame!<BR> +Her superfluity the poor supplies,<BR> +But if she touch a character it dies."—<I>Cowper</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was characteristic of Marthy Perkins and her continual pursuit of +pleasure, that she should wade through snowdrifts to Squire Bartlett's +and ask for a lift in his sleigh. The Squire's family were going to a +surprise party to be given to one of the neighbor's, and Marthy was as +determined about going as a debutante. +</P> + +<P> +She came in, covered with snow, hooded, shawled and coated till she +resembled a huge cocoon. The Squire placed a big armchair for her near +the fire, and Marshy sat down, but not without disdaining Anna's offers +to remove her wraps. She sniffed at Anna—no other word will express +it—and savagely clutched her big old-fashioned muff when Anna would +have taken it from her to dry it of the snow. +</P> + +<P> +The sleighbells jingled merrily as the different parties drove by, +singing, whistling, laughing, on their way to the party. The church +choir, snugly installed in "Doc" Wiggins' sleigh, stopped at the +Squire's to "thaw out," and try a step or two; Rube Whipple, the town +constable, giving them his famous song, "All Bound 'Round with a Woolen +String." +</P> + +<P> +Rube was, as usual, the pivot around which the merry-making centered. +A few nights before, burglars had broken into the postoffice and +carried off the stamps, and the town constable was, as usual, the last +one to hear of it. On the night in question, he had spent the evening +at the corner grocery store with a couple of his old pals, the stove +answering the purpose of a rather large bulls-eye, at which they +expectorated, with conscientious regularity, from time to time. Seth +Holcomb, Marthy Perkins' faithful swain, had been of the corner grocery +party. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Constable, hear you and Seth helped keep the stove warm the +other night, while thieves walked off with the postoffice," Marthy +announced; "what I'd like to know is, how much bitters, rheumatism +bitters, you had during the evening?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Marthy Perkins, you ought to be the last to throw it up to Seth +that he's obliged to spend his evenings round a corner grocery—that's +adding insult to injury." +</P> + +<P> +"Insult to injury I reckon can stand, Rube; it's when you add Seth's +bitters that it staggers." +</P> + +<P> +But Seth, who never minded Marthy's stings and jibes, only remarked: +"The recipy for them bitters was given to me by a blame good doctor." +</P> + +<P> +"That cuts you out, Wiggins," the Squire said playfully. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't care about standing father to Seth's bitters," "Doc" +Wiggins remarked, "but I've tasted worse stuff on a cold night." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Seth ain't pertickler about the temperature, when he takes a dose +of bitters. Hot or cold, it's all the same to him," finished Marthy. +</P> + +<P> +Seth took the opportunity to whisper to her: "You're going to sit next +to me in 'Doc' Wiggins' sleigh to-night, ain't you, Marthy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I ain't," said the spinster, scornfully tossing her head, "my +place will have to be filled by the bitters-bottle; I am going with the +Squire and Mrs. Bartlett." +</P> + +<P> +"Doc" Wiggins' party left in high good humor, the Squire and his party +promising to follow immediately. Anna ran upstairs to get Mrs. +Bartlett's bonnet and cloak, and Marthy, with a great air of mystery, +got up, and, carefully closing the door after the girl, turned to the +Squire and his wife with: +</P> + +<P> +"I've come to tell you something about her." +</P> + +<P> +"Something about Anna?" said the Squire indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, not about our Anna," protested Mrs. Bartlett: "Why, she is the +best kind of a girl; we are all devoted to her." +</P> + +<P> +"That's just the saddest part of it, I says to myself when I heard. +How can I ever make up my mind to tell them pore, dear Bartletts, who +took her in, and has been treating her like one of their own family +ever since? It will come hard on, them, I sez, but that ought not to +deter me from my duty." +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Marthy," thundered the Squire, "if you've got anything to +say about that girl, out with it——" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, land sake—you needn't be so touchy; she ain't kin to you, and +you might thank your lucky stars she ain't." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what is it, Marthy?" interposed Mrs. Bartlett. "Anna'll be down +in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you know, I have been sewin' down to Warren Center this last +week, and Maria Thomson, from Belden, was visiting there, and naturally +we all got to talking 'bout folks up this way, and that girl Anna +Moore's name was mentioned, and I'm blest if Maria Thomson didn't +recognize her from my description. +</P> + +<P> +"I was telling them 'bout the way she came here last June, pale as a +ghost, and how she said her mother had just died and she'd been sick, +and they knew right off who she was." +</P> + +<P> +Marthy loved few things as she did an interested audience. It was her +meat and drink. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she didn't call herself Moore in Belden, though that was her +mother's name—she called herself Lennox," Marthy grinned. "She was +one of those married ladies who forgot their wedding rings." +</P> + +<P> +The Squire knit his brows and his jaws came together with a snap; there +were tears in Mrs. Bartlett's eyes. The gossip looked from one to the +other to see the impression her words were making. +</P> + +<P> +It spurred her on to new efforts. She positively rolled the words +about in delight before she could utter them. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the girl's mother, who had been looking worried out of her skin, +took sick and died all of a sudden, and the girl took sick herself very +soon afterwards—and what do you think? A girl baby was born to Mrs. +Lennox, but her husband never came near her. Fortunately, the baby did +not live to embarrass her. It died, and she packed up and left Belden. +That's when she came here. +</P> + +<P> +"And now," continued the village inquisitor, summing up her terrible +evidence, "what are we to think of a girl called Miss Moore in one town +and Mrs. Lennox in the other, with no sign of a wedding ring and no +sign of a husband? And what are we going to think of that baby? It +seems to me scandalous." And she leaned back in her chair and rocked +furiously. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-136"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-136.jpg" ALT="Martha Perkins tells the story of Anna Moore's past life." BORDER="2" WIDTH="574" HEIGHT="430"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Martha Perkins tells the story of Anna Moore's past life.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +The Squire brought his hand down or the table with terrible force, his +pleasant face, was distorted with rage and indignation. +</P> + +<P> +"Just what I always said would come of taking in strange creatures that +we knew nothing about. Do you think that I will have a creature like +that in my house with my wife and my niece, polluting them with her +very presence?—out she goes this minute!" +</P> + +<P> +He strode over to the door through which Anna had passed a few moments +before, he flung it open and was about to call when he felt his wife +cling frantically to his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Father, don't do anything in anger that you'll repent of later. How +do you know this is true? Look how well the girl has acted since she +has been here"—and in a lower voice, "you know that Marthy's given to +talking." +</P> + +<P> +The hand on the knob relaxed, a kindly light replaced the anger in his +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You are right, Looizy, what we've heard is only hearsay, I'll not say +a word to the girl till I know; but to-morrow I am going to Belden and +find out the whole story from beginning to end." +</P> + +<P> +Kate and the professor came in laden with wraps, laughing and talking +in great glee. Kate was going to ride in the sleigh with the +professor, and the discovery of a new species of potato-bug could not +have delighted him more. He was in a most gallant mood, and concluding +that this was the opportunity for making himself agreeable, he +undertook to put on Kate's rubbers over her dainty dancing slippers. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps it was a glimpse of the cobwebby black silk stocking that +ensnared his wits, perhaps it was the delight of kneeling to Kate even +in this humble capacity. In either case, the result was equally +grotesque; Kate found her dainty feet neatly enclosed in the +professor's ungainly arctics, while he hopelessly contemplated her +overshoe and the size of his own foot. +</P> + +<P> +Anna returned with Mrs. Bartlett's bonnet and cloak before the laugh at +the professor had subsided. She adjusted the cloak, tied Mrs. +Bartlett's bonnet strings with daughterly care and then turned to look +after the Squire's comfort, but he strode past her to the sleigh with +Marthy. Kate and the professor called on a cheery "Good-night," but +Mrs. Bartlett remained long enough to take the pretty, sorrowful face +in her hands and give it a sweet, motherly kiss. +</P> + +<P> +When the jingling of the sleighbells died away across the snow, Hi +offered to read jokes to Anna from "Pickings from Puck," which he had +selected as a Christmas present from Kate, if she would consent to have +supper in the sitting-room, where it was warm and cosy. Anna began to +pop the corn, and Hi to read the jokes with more effort than he would +have expended on the sawing of a cord of wood. +</P> + +<P> +He bit into an apple. An expression of perfect contentment illuminated +his countenance and in a voice husky with fruit began: "Oh, here is a +lovely one, Anna," and he declaimed, after the style usually employed +by students of the first reader. +</P> + +<P> +"Weary Raggles: 'Say, Ragsy, w'y don't you ask 'em for something to eat +in dat house. Is you afraid of de dog?'" +</P> + +<P> +"Ragsy Reagan: 'No, I a-i-n-t 'fraid of the dog, but me pants is frayed +of him.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Ha, ha, ha—say, Anna, that's the funniest thing I ever did see. The +tramp wasn't frayed of him, but his pants was 'fraid of him. Gee, +ain't that a funny joke? And say, Anna, there's a picture with his +clothes all torn." +</P> + +<P> +Hi was fairly convulsed; he read till the tears rolled down his cheeks. +"'Pickin's from Puck, the funniest book ever wrote.' Here's another, +Anna." +</P> + +<P> +"'A p-o-o-r old man was sunstruck on Broadway this morning. His son +struck him for five dollars.'" Hi sat pondering over it for a full +minute, then he burst into a loud guffaw that continued so long and +uproariously that neither heard the continued rapping on the front door. +</P> + +<P> +"Hi, some one is knocking on the front door. Do go and see who it is." +</P> + +<P> +"O! let 'em knock, Anna; don't let's break up our party for strangers." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Hi, I'll have to go myself," and she laid down the corn-popper, +but the boy got up grumbling, lurched to the door and let in Lennox +Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"'Tain't nobody at home, Mr. Sanderson," said Hi, inhospitably blocking +the way. Anna had crouched over the fire, as if to obliterate herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, Hi, you take this and go out and hold my horse; he's mettlesome +as the deuce this cold weather. I want to get warm before I go to +Putnam's." +</P> + +<P> +Hi put on his muffler, mits and cap—each with a favorite "swear word," +such as "ding it," "dum it," "darn it." Nevertheless he wisely +concluded to take the half dollar from him and save it for the spring +crop of circuses. +</P> + +<P> +Anna started to leave the room, but Sanderson's peremptory "Stay here, +I've got to talk to you," detained her. +</P> + +<P> +They looked into each other's faces—these two, who but a few short +months ago had been all in all to each other—and the dead fire was not +colder than their looks. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Anna," he said sneeringly, "what's your game? You've been +hanging about here ever since I came to the neighborhood. How much do +you want to go away?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing that you could give me, Lennox Sanderson. My only wish is +that I might be spared the sight of you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't beat around the bush, Anna; is it money, or what? You are not +foolish enough to try to compel me to marry you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing could be further from my mind. I did think once of compelling +you to right the wrong you have done me, but that is past. It is +buried in the grave with my child." +</P> + +<P> +"Then the child is dead?" He came over to the fireplace where she +stood, but she drew away from him. +</P> + +<P> +"You have nothing to fear from me, Lennox Sanderson. The love I felt +once is dead, and I have no feeling for you now but contempt." +</P> + +<P> +"You need not rub it in like that, Anna. I was perfectly willing to do +the square thing by you always, but you flared up, went away, and +Heaven only knew what became of you. It's bad enough to have things +made unpleasant for me in Boston on your account without having you +queering my plans here." +</P> + +<P> +"Boston—I never told anyone in Boston." +</P> + +<P> +"No, but that row got into the papers about Langdon and the Tremonts +cut me." +</P> + +<P> +"Hush," said Anna, as a spasm of pain crossed her face: "I never wish +you to refer to my past life again." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, Anna, I am only too anxious to do the right thing by you, even +now. If you will go away, I will give you what you want, if you don't +intend to interfere between Kate and me." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure that Kate is in earnest? You know that the Squire +intends her to marry Dave." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall have no difficulty in preventing that if you don't interfere." +</P> + +<P> +She did not answer. She was again considering the same old question +that she had thrashed out a thousand times—should she tell Kate? How +would she take it? Would the tragedy of her life be regarded as a +little wild-oat sowing on the part of Sanderson and her own eternal +disgrace? +</P> + +<P> +The man was in no humor for her silence. He grasped her roughly by the +arm, and his voice was raised loud in angry protest. "Tell me—do you, +or do you not intend to interfere?" +</P> + +<P> +In the excitement of the moment neither heard the outer door open, and +neither heard David enter. He stood in his quiet way, looking from one +to the other. Sanderson's angry question died away in some foolish +commonplace, but David had heard and Anna and Sanderson knew it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DAVID CONFESSES HIS LOVE. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Come live with me and be my love;<BR> +And we will all the pleasures prove<BR> +That hills and valleys, dales and fields,<BR> +Woods, or steep mountains, yield."—<I>Marlowe</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Sanderson, recovering his self-possession almost immediately, drawled +out: +</P> + +<P> +"Glad to see you, Dave. Came over thinking I might be in time to go +over to Putnam's with your people. They had gone, so I stopped long +enough to get warm. I must be going now. Good-night, Miss—Miss"—(he +seemed, to have great difficulty in recalling the name) "Moore." +</P> + +<P> +David paid no attention to him; his eyes were riveted on Anna, who had +changed color and was now like ivory flushing into life. She trembled +and fell to her knees, making a pretense of gathering up her knitting +that had fallen. +</P> + +<P> +"What brought Sanderson here, Anna? Is he anything to you—are you +anything to him?" +</P> + +<P> +She tried to assume a playful lightness, but it failed dismally. It +was all her pallid lips could do to frame the words: "Why, Mr. David, +what a curious question! What possible interest could the 'catch' of +the neighborhood have in your father's servant?" +</P> + +<P> +The suggestion of flippancy that her words contained irritated the +grave, quiet man as few things could have done. He turned from her and +would have left the room, but she detained him. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry I wounded you, Mr. David, but, indeed, you have no right to +ask." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it, Anna, and you won't give me the right; but how dared that +cub Sanderson speak to you in that way?" He caught her hand, and +unconsciously wrung it till she cried out in pain. "Forgive me, dear, +I would not hurt you for the world; but that man's manner toward you +makes me wild." +</P> + +<P> +She looked up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes; he thought her +eyes were like the glow of forest fires burning through brushwood. "We +will never think of him again, Mr. David. I assure you that I am no +more to Mr. Sanderson than he is to me, and that is—nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you for those words, Anna. I cannot tell you how happy they +make me. But I do not understand you at all. Even a countryman like +me can see that you have never been used to our rough way of living; +you were never born to this kind of thing, and yet when that man +Sanderson looks at you or talks to you, there is always an undertone of +contempt in his look, his words." +</P> + +<P> +She sank wearily into an armchair. It seemed to her that her limit of +endurance had been reached, but he, taking her silence for +acquiescence, lost no time in following up what he fondly hoped might +be an advantage. "I did not go to the Putnams to-night, Anna, because +you were not going, and there is no enjoyment for me when you are not +there." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. David, if you continue to talk to me like this I shall have to +leave this house." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, Anna," he said so gravely that the woman beside him knew that +life and death were balanced with her words: "tell me, when you said +that day last autumn by the well that you never intended to marry, was +it just a girl's coquetry or was there some deeper reason for your +saying so?" +</P> + +<P> +She could not face the love in those honest eyes and answer as her +conscience prompted. She was tired, so tired of the struggle, what +would she not have given to rest here in the shelter of this perfect +love and trust, but it was not for her. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. David," she said, looking straight before her with wide, unseeing +eyes; "I can be no man's wife." +</P> + +<P> +He knew from the lines of suffering written deep on the pale young +face, that maiden coquetry had not inspired her to speak thus; but word +for word, it had been wrung from out of the depths of a troubled soul. +</P> + +<P> +"Anna!" cried David, in mingled astonishment and pain. But Anna only +turned mutely toward him with an imploring look. She stretched out her +hands to him, as if trying to tell him more. But words failed her. +Her tears overcame her and she fled, sobbing, to her room. All the way +up the winding night of stairs, David could hear her anguished moans. +He would have followed her, but Hi burst into the room, stamping the +snow from his boots. He shoved in the front door as if he had been an +invading army. He unwound his muffler and cast it from him as if he +had a grudge against it, as he proceeded to deliver himself of his +wrongs. +</P> + +<P> +"If there's any more visitors coming to the house to-night that wants +their horses held, they can do it themselves, for I am going to have my +supper." David made no reply, but went to his own room to brood over +the day's events. And so Anna was spared any further talk with David +that night; a circumstance for which she was devoutly thankful. +</P> + +<P> +The next day the snow was deeper by a foot, but this did not deter the +Squire from making his proposed trip to Belden. He started immediately +after breakfast, prepared to sift matters to the bottom. +</P> + +<P> +An air of tension and anxiety pervaded the household all that long, +miserable day. Anna was tortured with doubts. Should she slip away +quietly without telling, or should she make her humiliating confession +to Kate? Mrs. Bartlett, who knew the object of her husband's errand, +could not control her nerves. She knew intuitively "that something was +going to happen," as the good soul put it to herself. +</P> + +<P> +Altogether it was one of those nerve-wracking days that come from time +to time in the best regulated households, apparently for no other +purpose but to prove the fact that a solitary existence is not +necessarily the most unhappy. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Bartlett, for the first time in her life, was worried about Dave. +He was moody and morose, even to her, his sworn friend and ally, with +whom he had never had a word's difference. He had gone off that +morning shortly after the Squire left the house; and his mother, +watching him carefully at breakfast, noticed that he had shoved away +his plate with the food untasted. +</P> + +<P> +A fatal symptom to the ever-watchful maternal eye. +</P> + +<P> +Kate felt sulky because her aunt and uncle had been urging her to marry +Dave, and apparently Dave had no affection for her beyond that of a +cousin, the situation irritating her in the extreme. +</P> + +<P> +"Aunt Louisa, what is the matter with every one?" she said, flouncing +into the kitchen. "Something seems to have jarred the family nerves. +Here is uncle off on some mysterious business, Dave goes off in the +snow in a tantrum, and you look as if you had just buried your last +friend." And the young lady left the room as suddenly as she entered +it. +</P> + +<P> +"It does feel as if trouble was brewing," Mrs. Bartlett admitted to +Anna, with a gloomy shake of the head. "I'm getting that worried about +Dave, he's been away all day, and it's not usual for him to stay away +like this." Her voice broke a little, and she left the room hurriedly. +</P> + +<P> +He came in almost immediately, stamping the snow from his boots and +looking twice as savage as when he went away. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Bartlett had been worrying about you all day, Mr. David," Anna +said as she turned from the dresser with her arms full of plates. +</P> + +<P> +"And did you care, Anna, that I was not here?" He gave her the +appealing glance of a great mastiff who hopes for a friendly pat on the +head. +</P> + +<P> +"My feelings on the subject can be of no interest to you," she answered +with chilling decision. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," and he went to the hat-rack to get his muffler and cap, +preparatory to again facing the storm. +</P> + +<P> +The snow had been falling steadily all day. Drifting almost to the +height of the kitchen window, it whirled about the house and beat +against the window panes with a muffled sound that was inexpressibly +dreary to the girl, who felt herself the center of all this pitiful +human contention. +</P> + +<P> +"David, David; where have you been all day, and where are you going +now?" His mother looked at his gray, haggard face and tried to guess +his hidden trouble, the first he had ever kept from her. +</P> + +<P> +"Mother, I am not a child, and you can't expect me to hang about the +stove like a cat, all my life." It was his first harsh word to her and +she shrank before it as if it had been a blow. David, her boy, to +speak to her like that! She turned quickly away to hide the tears, the +first she had ever shed on his account. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, Anna," she said, struggling to recover her composure, "take this +bucket and get it filled for me, please." +</P> + +<P> +The girl reached for her cloak that hung on a peg near the door. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Anna, you shall not go out for water a night like this; it's not +the work for you to do." David had sprung forward and caught the +bucket from her hand and plunged with it into the storm. Kate's quick +eyes caught the expression of David's face—while Mrs. Bartlett only +heard his words. She gave Anna a searching look as she said: "So it is +you whom David loves." At last Kate understood the secret of Anna's +distracted face—and at last the mother understood the secret of her +boy's moodiness—he loved Anna. And her heart was filled with +bitterness and anger at the very thought; she had taken her boy, this +stranger, with whom the tongue of scandal was busy. The kindly, +gentle, old face lost all its sweetness; jealous anger filled it with +ugly lines. Turning to Anna she said: +</P> + +<P> +"It would have been better for all of us if we had not taken you in +that day to break up our home with your mischief." +</P> + +<P> +Anna was cut to the quick. "Oh, Mrs. Bartlett, please do not say that; +I will go away as soon as you like, but it is not with my consent that +David has these foolish fancies about me." +</P> + +<P> +"And do you mean to say that you have never encouraged him," +indignantly demanded the irate mother, who with true feminine +inconsistency would not have her boy's affections go begging, even +while she scorned the object of it. +</P> + +<P> +"Encouraged him? I have begged, entreated him to let me alone; I do +not want his love." +</P> + +<P> +An angry sparrow defending her brood could not have been more +indignantly demonstrative than this gentle old lady. +</P> + +<P> +"And isn't he good enough for you, Miss?" she asked in a voice that +shook with wrath. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Mrs. Bartlett, would you have me take his love and return it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no; that would never do!" and the inconsistent old soul rocked +herself to and fro in an agony of despair. +</P> + +<P> +Anna did not resent Mrs. Bartlett's indignation, unjust though it was; +she knew how blind good mothers could be when the happiness of their +children is at stake. She felt only pity for her and remembered only +her kindness. So slipping down on her knees beside the old lady's +chair, she took the toil-worn old hands in her own and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Do not think hardly of me, Mrs. Bartlett. You have been so good—and +when I am gone, I want you to think of me with affection. I will go +away, and all this trouble will straighten itself out, and you will +forget that I ever caused you a moment's pain." +</P> + +<P> +Dave came in with the bucket of water that had caused the little squall +and prevented his mother from replying, but the hard lines had relaxed +in the good old face. She was again "mother" whom they all knew and +loved. Sanderson followed close after David; he had just come from +Boston, he said, and inquired for Kate with a simple directness that +left no doubt as to whom he had come to see. +</P> + +<P> +It is an indisputable law of the eternal feminine for all women to +flaunt a conquest in the face of the man who had declined their +affection. Kate was not in love with her cousin David, but she was +devoutly thankful to Providence that there was a Lennox Sanderson to +flaunt before him in the capacity of tame cat, and prove that he "was +not the only man in the world," as she put it to herself. +</P> + +<P> +Therefore when Lennox Sanderson handed her a magnificent bunch of +Jacqueminot roses that he had brought her from Boston, Kate was not at +all backward in rewarding Sanderson with her graciousness. +</P> + +<P> +"How beautiful they are, Mr. Sanderson; it was so good of you." +</P> + +<P> +"You make me very happy by taking them," he answered with a wealth of +meaning. +</P> + +<P> +Anna, who had gone to the storeroom for some apples, after her +reconciliation with Mrs. Bartlett, returned to find Sanderson talking +earnestly to Kate by the window. Kate held up the roses for Anna to +smell. "Aren't they lovely, Anna? There is nothing like roses for +taking the edge off a snowstorm." +</P> + +<P> +Anna was forced to go through the farce of admiring them, while +Sanderson looked on with nicely concealed amusement. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what do you think of them, Anna?" said Kate, disappointed that +she made no comment. +</P> + +<P> +"The best thing about roses, speaking generally, Miss Kate, is that +they fade quickly and do not embarrass one by outliving the little +affairs in which they have played a part." She returned Sanderson's +languid glance in a way that made him quail. +</P> + +<P> +"That is quite true," said Kate, being in the humor for a little +cynicism. "What a pity that love letters can't be constructed on the +same principle." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not feel particularly at ease while these two young women +served and returned cynicism; he was accordingly much relieved when +Mrs. Bartlett and Anna both left the room, intent on the solemn +ceremony of opening a new supply of preserved peaches. +</P> + +<P> +"Kate, did you mean what you just said to that girl?" Sanderson asked +when they were alone. +</P> + +<P> +"What did I say? Oh, yes, about the love letters. Well, what +difference does it make whether I meant it or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"It makes all the difference in the world to me, Kate." He read +refusal in the big blue eyes, and he made haste to plead his cause +before she could say anything. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't answer yet, Kate; don't give me my life-sentence," he said +playfully, taking her hand. "Think it over; take as long as you like. +Hope with you is better than certainty with any other woman." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-160"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-160.jpg" ALT="Lillian Gish and Burr McIntosh." BORDER="2" WIDTH="571" HEIGHT="419"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Lillian Gish and Burr McIntosh.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Professor Sterling, who had been to a neighboring town on business for +the past two or three days, walked into the middle of this little +tableau in time to hear the last sentence. Kate and Sanderson had +failed to hear him, partly because he had neglected to remove his +overshoes, and partly because they were deeply engrossed with each +other. +</P> + +<P> +Though his rival's declaration, which he had every reason to suppose +would be accepted, was the death blow to his hopes, yet he unselfishly +stepped out into the snow, waited five minutes by his watch—a liberal +allowance for an acceptance, he considered—and then rapped loud and +theatrically before entering a second time. Could unselfishness go +further? +</P> + +<P> +Kate and Sanderson had no other opportunity for confidential talk that +evening. +</P> + +<P> +They were barely seated about the supper table, when there came a +tremendous rapping at the door, and Marthy Perkins came in, half +frozen. For once her voluble tongue was silenced. She retailed no +gossip while submitting to the friendly ministrations of Mrs. Bartlett +and Anna, who chafed her hands, gave her hot tea and thawed her back to +life—and gossip. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the Squire back yet?" asked Marthy with returning warmth. "Land +sakes, what can be keeping him? Heard him say last night that he +intended going away this morning, and thought he might have come back." +</P> + +<P> +"With news?" naively asked Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes. I did think it was likely that he might have gathered up +something interesting, away a whole day." Every one laughed but Mrs. +Bartlett. She alone knew the object of her husband's quest. +</P> + +<P> +"Your father's not likely to be back to-night—do you think so, Dave?" +she asked her son, more by way of drawing him out than in the hope of +getting any real information. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I do not think it is likely, mother," he answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Good land! and I nearly froze to death getting here!" Marthy said in +an aside to Mrs. Bartlett. "I tell you, Looizy, there is nothing like +suspense for wearing you out. I couldn't get a lick of sewing done +to-day, waiting for Amasy to get in with the news." +</P> + +<P> +"Hallo! hallo! Let us in quick—here we are, me and the Squire—most +froze! Hallo, hallo"—The rest of Hi's remarks were a series of whoops. +</P> + +<P> +Every one rose from the table, Mrs. Bartlett pale with apprehension. +Marthy flushed with delight. She was not to be balked of her prey. +The Squire was here with the news. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ALONE IN THE SNOW. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The cold winds swept the mountain-height,<BR> + And pathless was the dreary wild,<BR> +And mid the cheerless hours of night<BR> + A mother wandered with her child:<BR> +As through the drifting snows she pressed,<BR> + The babe was sleeping on her breast."—<I>Seba Smith</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The head of the house was home from his mysterious errand, the real +object of which was unknown to all but Marthy and his wife. +</P> + +<P> +Kate unwound his muffler and took his cap; his wife assured him that +she had been worried to death about him all day; the men inquired +solicitously about his journey—how had he stood the cold—and Anna +made ready his place at the table. But neither this domestic adulation +nor the atmosphere of warmth and affection awaiting him at his own +fireside served for a moment to turn him from the wanton brutality that +he was pleased to dignify by the name of duty. +</P> + +<P> +Anna could not help feeling the "snub," and David, whose eyes always +followed Anna, saw it before the others. "Father," said he, "what's +the matter, you don't speak to Anna." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to speak to her. I don't want to look at her. I don't +want anything to do with her," replied the Squire. Every one except +Martha and Mrs. Bartlett was startled by this blunt, almost brutal +outburst. +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad you are all here, the more the better: Marthy, Professor, +Mr. Sanderson, glad to see you and all the home folks"—he had a word, +a nod, a pat on the back for every one but Anna, and though she sought +more than one opportunity to speak to him, he deliberately avoided her. +</P> + +<P> +His wife, who knew all the varying weathers of his temper was using all +her small stock of diplomacy to get him to eat his supper. "When in +doubt about a man, feed him," had been Louisa Bartlett's unfailing rule +for the last thirty years. "Here, Amasy, sit down in your place that +Anna has fixed for you. You can talk after you've had your tea. Anna, +please make the Squire some fresh tea. I'm afraid this is a little +cool." +</P> + +<P> +"She need not make my tea, now, or on any future occasion—her days of +service in my family are done for." And he hammered the table with his +clenched fist. +</P> + +<P> +Anna closed her eyes; it had come at last; she had always known that it +was only a question of time. +</P> + +<P> +The rest looked at the Squire dumbfounded. Ah, that is, but Marthy. +She was licking her lips in delightful anticipation—with much the same +expression as a cat would regard an uncaged canary. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, father, what do you mean?" asked David in amazement. He had +heard no rumor of why his father had gone to Belden. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, listen, all of you," and again he thundered on the table with his +fist. "Last summer I was persuaded, against my will, to take a strange +woman into my house. I found out to-day that my judgment then was +right. I have been imposed on—she is an imposter, an adventuress." +</P> + +<P> +"Amasy, Amasy, don't be so hard on her," pleaded his wife. But the +Squire had the true huntsman's instinct—when he went out to hunt, he +went out to kill. +</P> + +<P> +"The time has come," he continued, raising his voice and ignoring his +wife's pleading, "when this home is better without her." +</P> + +<P> +Anna had already begun her preparation to go. She took her cloak down +from its peg and wrapped it about her without a word. +</P> + +<P> +"Father, if Anna goes, I go with her," and David rose to his feet, the +very incarnation of wrath, and strode over to where Anna stood apart +from the rest. He put his arm about her protectingly, and stood there +defiant of them all. +</P> + +<P> +"David, you must be mad. What, you, a son of mine, defy your father +here in the presence of your friends for that—adventuress?" +</P> + +<P> +"Father, take back that word about Anna. A better woman never lived. +You—who call yourself a Christian—would you send away a friendless +girl a night like this? And for what reason? Because a few old cats +have been gossiping about her. It is unworthy of you, father; I would +not have believed it." +</P> + +<P> +"So you have appointed yourself her champion, sir. No doubt she has +been trying her arts on you. Don't be a fool, David; stand aside, if +she wants to go, let her; women like her can look out for themselves; +let her go." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't make me forget, sir, that you are my father. I refuse +absolutely to hear the woman I love spoken of in this way." +</P> + +<P> +The rest looked on in painful silence; they seemed to be deprived of +the power of speech or action by the Squire's vehemence; the wind +howled about the house fitfully, and was still, then resumed its +wailing grief. +</P> + +<P> +"And you stand there and defy me for that woman in the presence of +Kate, to whom you are as good as betrothed?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no; there is no question of an engagement between David and me, +and there never can be," said Kate, not knowing in the least what to +make of the turn that things had taken. +</P> + +<P> +David continued to stand with his arm about Anna. He had heard the +Belden gossip—a wealthy young man from Boston had been attentive to +her, then left the place; jilted her, some said; been refused by her, +said others. It did not make a bit of difference to David which +version was true; he was ready to stand by Anna in the face of a +thousand gossips. This was just his father's brutal way of upholding +what he was pleased to term his authority. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you know about her, David?" reiterated the Squire. "I heard +reports, but like you, I would not believe them till I had investigated +them fully. Ask her if she has not been the mother of an illegitimate +child, who is now buried in the Episcopal cemetery at Belden—ask her +if she was not known there under the name of Mrs. Lennox?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is true," said the girl, raising her head, "that I was known as +Mrs. Lennox. It is true that I have a child buried in Belden——" +</P> + +<P> +David's arm fell from her, he buried his face in his hands and groaned. +Anna opened the door, a whirling gust flared the lamps and drove a +skurrying cloud of snowflakes within, yet not one hand was raised to +detain her. She swayed uncertain for a moment on the threshold, then +turned to them: "You have hunted me down, you have found out that I +have been a mother, that I am without the protection of a husband's +name, and that was enough for you—your duty stopped at the scandal. +Why did you not find out that I was a young, inexperienced girl who was +betrayed by a mock marriage—that I thought myself an honorable +wife—why should your duty stop in hunting down a defenseless girl +while the man who ruined her life sits there, a welcome guest in your +house to-night?" +</P> + +<P> +She was gone—David, who had been stunned by his father's words, ran +after her, but the whirling flakes had hidden every trace of her, and +the howling wind drove back his cry of "Anna, Anna! come back!" +</P> + +<P> +Anna did not feel the cold after closing the door between her and the +Squire's family; the white flame of her wrath seemed to burn up the +blood in her veins, as she plunged through the snowdrifts, unconscious +of the cold and storm. She had no words in which to formulate her fury +at the indignity of her treatment. Her native sweetness, for the +moment, had been extinguished and she was but the incarnation of +wronged womanhood, crying aloud to high Heaven for justice. +</P> + +<P> +The blood throbbed at her brain and the quickened circulation warmed +her till she loosened the cloak at her throat and wondered, in a dazed +sort of way, why she had put it on on such a stifling night. Then she +remembered the snow and eagerly uplifted her flushed cheeks that the +falling flakes might cool them. +</P> + +<P> +But of the icy grip of the storm she was wholly unconscious. There was +a mad exhilaration in facing the wild elements on such a night, the +exertion of forcing through the storm chimed in with her mood; each +snowdrift through which she fought her way was so much cruel injustice +beaten down. She felt that she had the strength and courage to walk to +the end of the earth and she went on and on, never thinking of the +storm, or her destination, or where she would rest that night. Her +head felt light, as if she had been drinking wine, and more than once +she stopped to mop the perspiration from her forehead. How absurd for +the snow to fall on such a sultry night, and foolish of those people +who had turned her out to die, thinking it was cold—the thermometer +must be 100. She paused to get her breath; a blast of icy wind caught +her cape, and almost succeeded in robbing her of it, and the chill +wrestled with the fever that was consuming her, and she realized for +the first time that it was cold. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what next?" she asked herself, throwing back her head and +unconsciously assuming the attitude of a creature brought to bay but +still unconquered. +</P> + +<P> +"What next?" She repeated it with the dull despair of one who has +nothing further to fear in the way of suffering. The Fates had spent +themselves on her, she no longer had the power to respond. Suppose she +should become lost in a snowdrift? "Well, what did it matter?" +</P> + +<P> +Then came one of those unaccountable clearings of the mental vision +that nature seems to reserve for the final chapter. Her quickened +brain grasped the tragedy of her life as it never had before. She saw +it with impersonal eyes. Anna Moore was a stranger on whose case she +could sit with unbiased judgment. Her mind swung back to the football +game in the golden autumn eighteen months ago, and she heard the cheers +and saw the swarms of eager, upturned faces and the dots of blue and +crimson, like flowers, in a great waving field. What a panorama of +life, and force, and struggle it had been! How typical of life, and +the end—but no, the end was not yet; there must be some justice in +life, some law of compensation. God must hear at last! +</P> + +<P> +The wind came tearing down from, the pine forest, surging through the +hills till it became a roar. Ah, it had sounded like that at the game. +They had called "Rah, Rah Sanderson" till they were hoarse, "Sanderson, +Rah! Sander-son! Rah! Rah!" The crackling forest seemed to have +gone mad with the echo of his name. It had become the keynote of the +wind. Rah! Rah! Sanderson! +</P> + +<P> +"You can't escape him even in death" something seemed to whisper in her +ear. "Ha-ha, Sanderson, San-der-son." She put her hands to her ears +to shut out the hateful sound, but she heard it, like the wail of a +lost soul; this time faint and far off: Sander-son—San-der-son. It +was above her in the groaning, creaking branches of the trees, in the +falling snow, in the whipping wind, the mockery would not be stilled. +</P> + +<P> +Ha, ha, ha, ha, howled the wind, then sinking to a sigh, +San-der-son—San-der-son. +</P> + +<P> +The cold had begun to strike into the marrow. She moved as if her +limbs were weighted. There was a mist gathering before her eyes, and +she put up her hand and tried to brush it away, but it remained. She +felt as if she were carrying something heavy in her arms and as she +walked it grew heavier and heavier. To her wandering mind it took a +pitifully familiar shape. Ah, yes! She knew what it was now; it was +the baby, and she must not let it get cold. She must cover it with her +cape and press it close to her bosom to keep it warm, but it was so +far, so far, and it was getting heavier every moment. +</P> + +<P> +And the wind continued to wail its dirge of "San-der-son, San-der-son." +She went through the motion of covering up the baby's head; she did not +want it to waken and hear that awful cry. She lifted up her empty arms +and lowered her head to soothe the imaginary baby with a kiss, and was +shocked to feel how cold its little cheek had grown. She hurried on +and on. She would beg the Squire to let his wife take it in for just a +minute, to warm it. She would not ask to come in herself, but the +baby—no one would be so cruel as to refuse her that. It would die out +here in the cold and the storm. It was so cruel, so hard to be +wandering about on a night like this with the baby. Her eyes began to +fill with tears, and her lower lip to quiver, but she plodded on, +sometimes gaining a few steps and then retracing them, but always with +the same instinct that had spurred her on to efforts beyond her +strength, and this done, she had no further concern for herself. Her +body especially, where the cape did not protect it against the blast, +was freezing, shivering, aching all over. A latent consciousness began +to dawn as the dread presence of death drew nearer; some intuitive +effort of preservation asserted itself, and she kept repeating over and +over: "I must not give up. I must not give up." +</P> + +<P> +Presently the scene began to change, and the white formless world about +her began to assume definite shape. She had seen it all before, the +bare trees pointing their naked branches upward, the fringe of willows, +the smooth, glassy sheet of water that was partly frozen and partly +undulating toward the southern shore. The familiarity of it all began +to haunt her. Had she dreamed it—was she dreaming now? Perhaps it +was only a dream after all! Then, as if in a wave of clear thought, +she remembered it all. It was the lake, and she had been there with +the Sunday school children last summer on their picnic. +</P> + +<P> +It came to her like a solution of all her troubles; it was so placid, +so still, so cold. A moment and all would be forgotten. She stood +with one foot on the creaking ice. It was but to walk a dozen steps to +the place where the ice was but a crash of crystal and that would end +it all. She was so weary of the eternal strife of things, she was so +glad to lay down the burden under which her back was bending to the +point of breaking. +</P> + +<P> +And yet, there was the primitive instinct of self-preservation +combating her inclination, urging her on to make one more final effort. +Back and forth, through the snow about the lake she wandered; without +being able to decide. Her strength was fast ebbing. Which—which, +should it be? "God have mercy!" she cried, and fell unconscious. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NIGHT IN THE SNOWSTORM. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,<BR> +Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,<BR> +Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air<BR> +Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven."—<I>Emerson</I>. +</P> + +<P> +All through that long, wild night David searched and shouted, to find +only snow and silence. +</P> + +<P> +Through the darkness and the falling flakes he could not see more than +a foot ahead, and when he would stumble over a stone or the fallen +trunk of a tree, he would stoop down and search through the drifts with +his bare hands, thinking perhaps that she might have fallen, and not +finding her, he would again take up his fruitless search, while cold +fear gnawed at his heart. +</P> + +<P> +At home in the warm farm house, sat the Squire who had done his duty. +The consciousness of having done it, however, did not fill him with +that cheerful glow of righteousness that is the reward of a good +conscience—on the contrary, he felt small. It might have been +imagination, but he felt, somehow, as if his wife and Kate were +shunning him. Once he had tried to take his wife's hand as she stood +with her face pressed to the window trying to see if she could make out +the dim outline of David returning with Anna, but she withdrew her hand +impatiently as she had never done in the thirty years of their married +life. Amasy's hardness was a thing no longer to be condoned. +</P> + +<P> +Furthermore, when the clock had struck eleven and then twelve, and yet +no sign of David or Anna, the Squire had reached for his fur cap and +announced his intention of "going to look for 'em." But like the +proverbial worm, the wife of his bosom had turned, and with all the +determination of a white rabbit she announced: +</P> + +<P> +"If I was you, Amasy, I'd stay to hum; seems as if you had made almost +enough trouble for one day." With the old habit of authority, strong +as ever, he looked at the worm, but there was a light in its eyes that +warned him as a danger signal. +</P> + +<P> +They were alone together, the Squire and his wife, and each was alone +in sorrow, the yoke of severity she had bowed beneath for thirty years +uncomplainingly galled to-night. It had sent her boy out into the +storm—perhaps to his death. There was little love in her heart for +Amasy. +</P> + +<P> +He tried to think that he had only done his duty, that David and Anna +would come back, and that, in the meantime, Louisa was less a comfort +to him, in his trouble, than she had ever been before. It was, of +course, his trouble; it never occurred to him that Louisa's heart might +have been breaking on its own account. +</P> + +<P> +The Squire found that duty was a cold comforter as the wretched hours +wore on. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had slunk from the house without a word immediately after +Anna's departure. In the general upheaval no one missed him, and when +they did it was too late for them to enjoy the comfort of shifting the +blame to his guilty shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +The professor followed Kate with the mute sympathy of a faithful dog; +he did not dare attempt to comfort her. The sight of a woman in tears +unnerved him; he would not have dared to intrude on her grief; he could +only wait patiently for some circumstance to arise in which he could be +of assistance. In the meantime he did the only practical thing within +his power—he went about from time to time, poked the fires and put on +coal. +</P> + +<P> +Marthy would have liked to discuss the iniquity of Lennox Sanderson +with any one—it was a subject on which she could have spent hours—but +no one seemed inclined to divert Marthy conversationally. In fact, her +popularity was not greater that night in the household than that of the +Squire. She spent her time in running from room to room, exclaiming +hysterically: +</P> + +<P> +"Land sakes! Ain't it dreadful?" +</P> + +<P> +The tension grew as time wore on without developments of any kind, the +waiting with the haunting fear of the worst grew harder to bear than +absolute calamity. +</P> + +<P> +Toward five o'clock the Squire announced his intention of going out and +continuing the search, and this time no one objected. In fact, Mrs. +Bartlett, Kate and the professor insisted on accompanying him and +Marthy decided to go, too, not only that she might be able to say she +was on hand in case of interesting developments, but because she was +afraid to be left in the house alone. +</P> + +<P> + * * * * * *<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Toward morning, David, spent and haggard, wandered into a little +maple-sugar shed that belonged to one of the neighbors. Smoke was +coming out of the chimney, and David entered, hoping that Anna might +have found here a refuge. +</P> + +<P> +He was quickly undeceived, however, for Lennox Sanderson stood by the +hearth warming his hands. The men glared at each other with the +instinctive fierceness of panthers. Not a word was spoken; each knew +that the language of fists could be the only medium of communication +between them; and each was anxious to have his say out. +</P> + +<P> +The men faced each other in silence, the flickering glare of the +firelight painting grotesque expressions on their set faces. David's +greater bulk loomed unnaturally large in the uncertain light, while +every trained muscle of Sanderson's athletic body was on the alert. +</P> + +<P> +It was the world old struggle between patrician and proletarian. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was an all-round athlete and a boxer of no mean order. This +was not his first battle. His quick eye showed him from David's +awkward attitude, that his opponent was in no way his equal from a +scientific standpoint. He looked for the easy victory that science, +nine times out of ten, can wrest from unskilled brute force. +</P> + +<P> +For, perhaps, half a minute the combatants stood thus. +</P> + +<P> +Then, with lowered head and outstretched arms, David rushed in. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson side-stepped, avoiding the on-set. Before David could +recover himself, the other had sent his left fist crashing into the +country-man's face. +</P> + +<P> +The blow was delivered with all the trained force the athlete possessed +and sent David reeling against the rough wall of the house. +</P> + +<P> +Such a blow would have ended the fight then and there for an ordinary +man; but it only served to rouse David's sluggish blood to white heat. +</P> + +<P> +Again he rushed. +</P> + +<P> +This time he was more successful. +</P> + +<P> +True, Sanderson partially succeeded in avoiding the sledge-hammer fist, +though it missed his head, it struck glancingly on the left shoulder. +numbing for the moment the whole arm. Sanderson countered as the blow +fell, by bringing his right arm up with all his force and striking +David on the face. He sank to his knees, like a wounded bull, but was +on his feet again before Sanderson could follow up his advantage. +</P> + +<P> +David, heedless of the pain and fast flowing blood, rushed a third +time, catching Sanderson in a corner of the room whence he could not +escape. +</P> + +<P> +In an instant, the two were locked in a death-like grip. +</P> + +<P> +To and fro they reeled. No sound could be heard save the snapping of +brands on the hearth, the shuffle of moving feet and the short gasps of +struggling men. +</P> + +<P> +In that terrible grasp, Sanderson's strength was as a child's. +</P> + +<P> +He could not call into play any of the wrestling tricks that were his, +all he could do was to keep his feet and wait for the madman's strength +to expend itself. +</P> + +<P> +The iron grip about his body seemed to slacken for a moment. He +wriggled free, and caught the fatal underhold. +</P> + +<P> +By this new grip, he forced David's body backward till the larger man's +spine bade fair to snap. +</P> + +<P> +David felt himself caught in a trap. Exerting all his giant strength +he forced one arm down between their close-locked bodies, and clasped +his other hand on Sanderson's face, pushing two fingers into his +eyeballs. +</P> + +<P> +No man can endure this torture. Sanderson loosed his hold. David had +caught him by the right wrist and the left knee, stooping until his own +shoulders were under the other's thigh. Then, with this leverage, he +whirled Sanderson high in the air above his head and threw him with all +his force down upon the hearth. +</P> + +<P> +A shower of sparks arose and the strong smell of burning clothes, as +Sanderson, stunned and helpless, lay across the blazing fire-place. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment, David thought to leave his vanquished foe to his own +fate, then he turned back. What was the use? It could not right the +wrong he had done to Anna. He bent over Sanderson, extinguished the +fire, pulled the unconscious man to the open door and left him. +</P> + +<P> +It came to David like an inspiration that he had not thought of the +lake; the ice was thin on the southern shore below where the river +emptied. Suppose she had gone there; suppose in her utter desolation +she had gone there to end it all? Imagination, quickened by suspense +and suffering, ran to meet calamity; already he was there and saw the +bare trees, bearing their burden of snow, and the placid surface, half +frozen over, and on the southern shore, that faintly rippled under its +skimming of ice, something dark floating. He saw the floating black +hair, and the dead eyes, open, as if in accusation of the grim +injustice of it all. +</P> + +<P> +He hurried through the drifted snow, as fast as his spent strength +would permit, stumbling once or twice over some obstruction, and +covered the weary distance to the lake. +</P> + +<P> +About a hundred yards from the lake Dave saw something that made his +heart knock against his ribs and his breath come short, as if he had +been running. It was Anna's gray cloak. It lay spread out on the snow +as if it had been discarded hastily; there were footprints of a woman's +shoes near by; some of them leading toward the lake, others away from +it, as if she might have come and her courage failed her at the last +moment. The cape had not the faintest trace of snow on its upturned +surface. It must, therefore, have been discarded lately, after the +snowstorm had ceased this morning. +</P> + +<P> +Dave continued his search in an agony of apprehension. The sun faintly +struggled with the mass of gray cloud, revealing a world of white. He +had wandered in the direction of a clump of cedars, and remembered +pointing the place out to her in the autumn as the scene of some boyish +adventure, which to commemorate he had cut his name on one of the +trees. Association, more than any hope of finding her, led him to the +cedars—and she was there. She had fallen, apparently, from cold and +exhaustion. He bent down close to the white, still face that gave no +sign of life. He called her name, he kissed her, but there was no +response—it was too late. +</P> + +<P> +Dave looked at the little figure prostrate in the snow, and despair for +a time deprived him of all thought. Then the lifelong habit of being +practical asserted itself. Unconsciousness from long exposure to cold, +he knew, resembled death, but warmth and care would often revive the +fluttering spark. If there was a chance in a thousand, Dave was +prepared to fight the world for it. +</P> + +<P> +He lifted Anna tenderly and started back for the shed where he had +fought Sanderson. Frail as she was, it seemed to him, as he plunged +through the drifts, that his strength would never hold out till they +reached their destination. Inch by inch he struggled for every step of +the way, and the sweat dripped from him as if it had been August. But +he was more than rewarded, for once. She opened her eyes—she was not +dead. +</P> + +<P> +He found them all at the shed—the Squire, his mother, Kate, the +professor and Marthy. There was no time for questions or speeches. +Every one bent with a will toward the common object of restoring Anna. +The professor ran for the doctor, the women chafed the icy hands and +feet and the Squire built up a roaring fire. Their efforts were +finally rewarded and the big brown eyes opened and turned inquiringly +from one to another. +</P> + +<P> +"What has happened? Why are you all here?" she asked faintly; then +remembering, she wailed: "Oh, why did you bring me back? I went to the +lake, but it was so cold I could not throw myself in; then I walked +about till almost sunrise, and I was so tired that I laid down by the +cedars to sleep—why did you wake me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Anna," said the Squire, "we want you to forgive us and come back as +our daughter," and he slipped her cold little hand in David's. "This +boy has been looking for you all night, Anna. I thought maybe he had +been taken from us to punish me for my hardness. But, thank God, you +are both safe." +</P> + +<P> +"You will, Anna, won't you? and father will give us his blessing." She +smiled her assent. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Squire, if you are giving out blessings, don't pass by Kate and +me." +</P> + +<P> +In the general kissing and congratulation that followed, Hi Holler +appeared. "Here's the sleigh, I thought maybe you'd all be ready for +breakfast. Hallo, Anna, so he found you! The station agent told me +that Mr. Sanderson left on the first train for Boston this morning. +Says he ain't never coming back." +</P> + +<P> +"And a good thing he ain't," snapped Marthy Perkins—"after all the +trouble he's made." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE END. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Way Down East, by Joseph R. 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Grismer + +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: 'Way Down East + A Romance of New England Life + +Author: Joseph R. Grismer + +Release Date: October 28, 2005 [EBook #16959] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'WAY DOWN EAST *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Miss Lillian Gish as Anna Moore. D. W. Griffith's +Production. 'Way Down East.] + + + + + + +'WAY DOWN EAST + +A ROMANCE OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE + + + +BY + +JOSEPH R. GRISMER + + + + +Founded on the Very Successful Play of the + +Same Title by + +LOTTIE BLAIR PARKER + + + + + + ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM + D. W. GRIFFITH'S MAGNIFICENT + MOTION PICTURE PRODUCTION OF THE + ORIGINAL STORY AND STAGE PLAY + + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS -------------- NEW YORK + + + + +_Copyright, 1900_ + +_By Joseph R. Grismer_ + + +_'Way Down East_ + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. All Hail to the Conquering Hero. + + II. The Conquering Hero is Disposed to be Human. + + III. Containing Some Reflections and the Entrance + of Mephistopheles. + + IV. The Mock Marriage. + + V. A Little Glimpse of the Garden of Eden. + + VI. The Ways of Desolation. + + VII. Mother and Daughter. + + VIII. In Days of Waiting. + + IX. On the Threshold of Shelter. + + X. Anna and Sanderson Again Meet. + + XI. Rustic Hospitality. + + XII. Kate Brewster Holds Sanderson's Attention. + + XIII. The Quality of Mercy. + + XIV. The Village Gossip Sniffs Scandal. + + XV. David Confesses his Love. + + XVI. Alone in the Snow. + + XVII. The Night in the Snowstorm. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Miss Lillian Gish as Anna Moore. . . . _Frontispiece_ + +Martha Perkins and Maria Poole. + +Martha Perkins tells the story of Anna Moore's past life. + +Lillian Gish and Burr McIntosh. + + + + +WAY DOWN EAST + + +CHAPTER I. + +ALL HAIL TO THE CONQUERING HERO. + + + Methinks I feel this youth's perfections, + With an invisible and subtle stealth, + To creep in at mine eyes.--_Shakespeare_. + + +It had come at last, the day of days, for the two great American +universities; Harvard and Yale were going to play their annual game of +football and the railroad station of Springfield, Mass., momentarily +became more and more thronged with eager partisans of both sides of the +great athletic contest. + +All the morning trains from New York, New Haven, Boston and the smaller +towns had been pouring their loads into Springfield. Hampden Park was +a sea of eager faces. The weather was fine and the waiting for the +football game only added to the enjoyment--the appetizer before the +feast. + +The north side of the park was a crimson dotted mass full ten thousand +strong; the south side showed the same goodly number blue-bespeckled, +and equally confident. Little ripples of applause woke along the banks +as the familiar faces of old "grads" loomed up, then melted into the +vast throng. These, too, were men of international reputation who had +won their spurs in the great battles of life, and yet, who came back +year after year, to assist by applause in these mimic battles of their +_Alma Mater_. + +But the real inspiration to the contestants, were the softer, sweeter +faces scattered among the more rugged ones like flowers growing among +the grain--the smiles, the mantling glow of round young cheeks, the +clapping of little hands--these were the things that made broken +collarbones, scratched faces, and bruised limbs but so many honors to +be contended for, votive offerings to be laid at the little feet of +these fair ones. + +Mrs. Standish Tremont's party occupied, as usual, a prominent place on +the Harvard side. She was so great a factor in the social life at +Cambridge that no function could have been a complete success without +the stimulus of her presence. Personally, Mrs. Standish Tremont was +one of those women who never grow old; one would no more have thought +of hazarding a guess about her age than one would have made a similar +calculation about the Goddess of Liberty. She was perennially young, +perennially good-looking, and her entertainments were above reproach. +Some sour old "Grannies" in Boston, who had neither her wit, nor her +health, called her Venus Anno Domino, but they were jealous and cynical +and their testimony cannot be taken as reliable. + +What if she had been splitting gloves applauding college games since +the fathers of to-day's contestants had fought and struggled for +similar honors in this very field. She applauded with such vim, and +she gave such delightful dinners afterward, that for the glory of old +Harvard it is to be hoped she will continue to applaud and entertain +the grandsons of to-day's victors, even as she had their sires. + +It was said by the uncharitable that the secret of the lady's youth was +the fact that she always surrounded herself with young people, their +pleasure, interests, entertainments were hers; she never permitted +herself to be identified with older people. + +To-day, besides several young men who had been out of college for a +year or two, she had her husband's two nieces, the Misses Tremont, +young women well known in Boston's inner circles, her own daughter, a +Mrs. Endicott, a widow, and a very beautiful young girl whom she +introduced as "My cousin, Miss Moore." + +Miss Moore was the recipient of more attention than she could well +handle. Mrs. Tremont's cavaliers tried to inveigle her into betting +gloves and bon-bons; they reserved their wittiest replica for her, they +were her ardent allies in all the merry badinage with which their party +whiled away the time waiting for the game to begin. Miss Moore was +getting enough attention to turn the heads of three girls. + +At least, that was what her chaperone concluded as she skilfully +concealed her dissatisfaction with a radiant smile. She liked girls to +achieve social success when they were under her wing--it was the next +best thing to scoring success on her own account. But, it was quite a +different matter to invite a poor relation half out of charity, half +out of pity, and then have her outshine one's own daughter, and one's +nieces--the latter being her particular proteges--girls whom she hoped +to assist toward brilliant establishments. The thought was a +disquieting one, the men of their party had been making idiots of +themselves over the girl ever since they left Boston; it was all very +well to be kind to one's poor kin--but charity began at home when there +were girls who had been out three seasons! What was it, that made the +men lose their heads like so many sheep? She adjusted her lorgnette +and again took an inventory of the girl's appearance. It was eminently +satisfactory even when viewed from the critical standard of Mrs. +Standish Tremont. A delicately oval face, with low smooth brow, from +which the night-black hair rippled in softly crested waves and clung +about the temples in tiny circling ringlets, delicate as the faintest +shading of a crayon pencil. Heavily fringed lids that lent mysterious +depths to the great brown eyes that were sorrowful beyond their years. +A mouth made for kisses--a perfect Cupid's bow; in color, the red of +the pomegranate--such was Anna Moore, the great lady's young kinswoman, +who was getting her first glimpse of the world this autumn afternoon. + +"You were born to be a Harvard girl, Miss Moore, the crimson becomes +you go perfectly, that great bunch of Jacqueminots is just what you +need to bring out the color in your cheeks," said Arnold Lester, rather +an old beau, and one of Mrs. Endicott's devoted cavaliers. + +"Miss Moore is making her roses pale with envy," gallantly answered +Robert Maynard. He had not been able to take his eyes from the girl's +face since he met her. + +Anna looked down at her roses and smiled. Her gown and gloves were +black. The great fragrant bunch was the only suggestion of color that +she had worn for over a year. She was still in mourning for her +father, one of the first great financial magnates to go under in the +last Wall Street crash. His failure killed him, and the young daughter +and the invalid wife were left practically unprovided for. + +Mrs. Tremont could hardly conceal her annoyance. She had met her young +cousin for the first time the preceding summer and taking a fancy to +her; she exacted a promise from the girl's mother that Anna should pay +her a visit the following autumn. But she reckoned without the girl's +beauty and the havoc it would make with her plans. The discussion as +to the roses outvieing Anna's cheeks in color was abruptly terminated +by a great cheer that rolled simultaneously along both sides of the +field as the two teams entered the lists. Cheer upon cheer went up, +swelled and grew in volume, only to be taken up again and again, till +the sound became one vast echoing roar without apparent end or +beginning. + +From the moment the teams appeared, Anna Moore had no eyes or ears for +sights or sounds about her. Every muscle in her lithe young body was +strained to catch a glimpse of one familiar figure. She had little +difficulty in singling him out from the rest. He had stripped off his +sweater and stood with head well down, his great limbs tense, straining +for the word to spring. Anna's breath came quickly, as if she had been +running, the roses that he had sent her heaved with the tumult in her +breast. It seemed to her as if she must cry out with the delight of +seeing him again. + +"Look, Grace," said Mrs. Standish Tremont, to the younger of her +nieces, "there is Lennox Sanderson." + +"Play!" called the referee, and at the word the Harvard wedge shot +forward and crashed into the onrushing mass of blue-legged bodies. The +mimic war was on, and raged with all the excitement of real battle for +the next three-quarters of an hour; the center was pierced, the flanks +were turned, columns were formed and broken, weak spots were protected, +all the tactics of the science of arms was employed, and yet, neither +side could gain an advantage. + +The last minutes of the first half of the game were spent +desperately--Kenneth, the terrible line breaker of Yale, made two +famous charges, Lennox Sanderson, the famous flying half-back, secured +Harvard a temporary advantage by a magnificently supported run. +"Time!" called the referee, and the first half of the game was over. + +For fifteen minutes the combatants rested, then resumed their massing, +wedging and driving. Sanderson, who had not appeared to over-exert +himself during the first half of the game, gradually began to turn the +tide in favor of the crimson. After a decoy and a scrimmage, +Sanderson, with the ball wedged tightly under one arm, was seen flying +like a meteor, well covered by his supports. On he dashed at full +speed for the much-desired touch-line. The next minute he had reached +the goal and was buried under a pile of squirming bodies. + +Then did the Harvard hosts burst into one mighty and prolonged cheer +that made the air tremble. Sanderson was the hero of the hour. +Gray-haired old men jumped up and shouted his name with that of the +university. It was one mad pandemonium of excitement, till the game +was won, and the crowd woke up amid the "Rah, Rahs, Harvard, Sanderson." + +Anna's cheeks burned crimson. She clapped her hands to the final +destruction of her gloves. She patted the roses he had sent her. She +had never dreamed that life was so beautiful, so full of happiness. + +She saw him again for just a moment, before they left the park. He +came up to speak to them, with the sweat and grime of battle still upon +him, his hair flying in the breeze. The crowds gave way for the hero; +women gave him their brightest smiles; men involuntarily straightened +their shoulders in tribute to his inches. + +Years afterwards, it seemed to Anna, in looking back on the tragedy of +it all, that he had never looked so handsome, never been so absolutely +irresistible as on that autumn day when he had taken her hand and said: +"I couldn't help making that run with your eyes on me." + +"And we shall see you at tea, on Saturday?" asked Mrs. Tremont. + +"I shall be delighted," he answered: "thank you for persuading Miss +Moore to stay over for another week." Mrs. Tremont smiled, she could +smile if she were on the rack; but she assured herself that she was +done with poverty-stricken beauties till Grace and Maud were married, +at least. For years she had been planning a match between Grace and +Lennox Sanderson. + +Anna and Sanderson exchanged looks. Robert Maynard bit his lips and +turned away. He realized that the dearest wish of his life was beyond +reach of it forever. "Ah, well," he murmured to himself--"who could +have a chance against Lennox Sanderson?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE CONQUERING HERO IS DISPOSED TO BE HUMAN. + + + "Her lips are roses over-wash'd with dew, + Or like the purple of narcissus' flower; + No frost their fair, no wind doth waste their powers, + But by her breath her beauties do renew."--_Robert Greene_. + + +The dusk of an autumn afternoon was closing in on the well-filled +library of Mrs. Standish Tremont's Beacon street home. The last rays +of sunlight filtered softly through the rose silk curtains and blended +with the ruddy glow of fire-light. The atmosphere of this room was +more invitingly domestic than that of any other room in Mrs. Tremont's +somewhat bleakly luxurious home. + +Perhaps it was the row upon row of books in their scarlet leather +bindings, perhaps it was the fine old collection of Dutch masterpieces, +portraying homely scenes from Dutch life, that robbed the air of the +chilling effect of the more formal rooms; but, whatever was the reason, +the fact remained that the library was the room in which to dream +dreams, appreciate comfort and be content. + +At least so it seemed to Anna Moore, as she glanced from time to time +at the tiny French clock that silently ticked away the hours on the +high oaken mantel-piece. Anna had dressed for tea with more than usual +care on this particular Saturday afternoon. She wore a simply made +house gown of heavy white cloth, that hung in rich folds about her +exquisite figure, that might have seemed over-developed in a girl of +eighteen, were it not for the long slender throat and tapering waist of +more than usual slenderness. + +The dark hair was coiled high on top of the shapely head, and a few +tendrils strayed about her neck and brow. She wore no ornaments--not +even the simplest pin. + +She was curled up in a great leather chair, in front of the open fire, +playing with a white angora kitten, who climbed upon her shoulder and +generally conducted himself like a white ball of animated yarn. It was +too bad that there was no painter at hand to transfer to canvas so +lovely a picture as this girl in her white frock made, sitting by the +firelight in this mellow old room, playing with a white imp of a +kitten. It would have made an ideal study in white and scarlet. + +How comfortable it all was; the book-lined walls, the repose and +dignity of this beautiful home, with its corps of well-trained servants +waiting to minister to one's lightest wants. The secure and sheltered +feeling that it gave appealed strongly to the girl, who but a little +while ago had enjoyed similar surroundings in her father's house. + +And then, there had been that awful day when her father's wealth had +vanished into air like a burst bubble, and he had come home with a +white drawn face and gone to bed, never again to rise from it. + +Anna did not mind the privations that followed on her own account, but +they were pitifully hard on her invalid mother, who had been used to +every comfort all her life. + +After they had left New York, they had taken a little cottage in +Waltham, Mass., and it was here that Mrs. Standish Tremont had come to +call on her relatives in their grief and do what she could toward +lightening their burdens. Anna was worn out with the constant care of +her mother, and would only consent to go away for a rest, because the +doctor told her that her health was surely breaking under the strain, +and that if she did not go, there would be two invalids instead of one. + +It was at Mrs. Tremont's that she had met Lennox Sanderson, and from +the first, both seemed to be under the influence of some subtle spell +that drew them together blindly, and without the consent of their +wills. Mrs. Tremont, who viewed the growing attraction of these two +young people with well-concealed alarm, watched every opportunity to +prevent their enjoying each other's society. It irritated her that one +of the wealthiest and most influential men in Harvard should take such +a fancy to her penniless young relative, instead of to Grace Tremont, +whom she had selected for his wife. + +There were few things that Mrs. Tremont enjoyed so much as arranging +romances in everyday life. + +"Pardon me, Miss Moore," said the butler, standing at her elbow, "but +there has been a telephone message from Mrs. Tremont, saying that she +and Mrs. Endicott have been detained, and will you be kind enough to +explain this to Mr. Sanderson." Anna never knew what the message cost +Mrs. Tremont. + +A moment later, Sanderson's card was sent up; Anna rose to meet him +with swiftly beating heart. + +"What perfect luck," he said. "How do I happen to find you alone? +Usually you have a regiment of people about you." + +"Cousin Frances has just telephoned that she has been detained, and I +suppose I am to entertain you till her return." + +"I shall be sufficiently entertained if I may have the pleasure of +looking at you." + +"Till dinner time? You could never stand it." She laughed. + +"It would be a pleasure till eternity." + +"At any rate," said Anna, "I am not going to put you to the test. If +you will be good enough to ring for tea, I will give you a cup." + +The butler brought in the tea. Anna lighted the spirit lamp with +pretty deftness, and proceeded to make tea. + +"I could not have taken this, even from your hands last week, +Anna--pardon me, Miss Moore." + +"And why not? Had you been taking pledges not to drink tea?" + +"It seems to me as if I've been living on rare beef and whole wheat +bread ever since I can remember----" + +"Oh, yes, I forgot about your being in training for the game, but you +did so magnificently, you ought not to mind it. Why, you made Harvard +win the game. We were all so proud of you." + +"All! I don't care about 'all.' Were you proud of me?" + +"Of course I was," she answered with the loveliest blush. + +"Then it is amply repaid." + +"Let me give you another cup of tea." + +"No, thanks, I don't care about any more, but if you will let me talk +to you about something-- See here, Anna. Yes, I mean Anna. What +nonsense for us to attempt to keep up the Miss Moore and Mr. Sanderson +business. I used to scoff at love at first sight and say it was all +the idle fancy of the poets. Then I met you and remained to pray. +You've turned my world topsy-turvy. I can't think without you, and yet +it would be folly to tell this to my Governor, and ask his consent to +our marriage. He wants me to finish college, take the usual trip +around the world and then go into the firm. Besides, he wants me to +eventually marry a cousin of mine--a girl with a lot of money and with +about as much heart as would fit on the end of a pin." + +She had followed this speech with almost painful attention. She bit +her lips till they were but a compressed line of coral. At last she +found words to say: + +"We must not talk of these things, Mr. Sanderson. I have to go back +and care for my mother. She is an invalid and needs all my attention. +Bedsides, we are poor; desperately poor. I am here in your world, only +through the kindness of my cousin, Mrs. Tremont." + +"It was your world till a year ago, Anna. I know all about your +father's failure, and how nobly you have done your part since then, and +it kills me to think of you, who ought to have everything, spending +your life--your youth--in that stupid little Waltham, doing the work of +a housemaid." + +"I am very glad to do my part," she answered him bravely, but her eyes +were full of unshed tears. + +"Anna, dearest, listen to me." He crossed over to where she sat and +took her hand. "Can't you have a little faith in me and do what I am +going to ask you? There is the situation exactly. My father won't +consent to our marriage, so there is no use trying to persuade him. +And here you are--a little girl who needs some one to take care of you +and help you take care of your mother, give her all the things that +mean so much to an invalid. Now, all this can be done, darling, if you +will only have faith in me. Marry me now secretly, before you go back +to Waltham. No one need know. And then the governor can be talked +around in time. My allowance will be ample to give you and your mother +all you need. Can't you see, darling?" + +The color faded from her cheeks. She looked at him with eyes as +startled as a surprised fawn. + +"O, Lennox, I would be afraid to do that." + +"You would not be afraid, Anna, if you loved me." + +It was so tempting to the weary young soul, who had already begun to +sink under the accumulated burdens of the past year, not for herself, +but for the sick mother, who complained unceasingly of the changed +conditions of their lives. The care and attention would mean so much +to her--and yet, what right had she to encourage this man to go against +the wishes of his father, to take advantage of his love for her? But +she was grateful to him, and there was a wealth of tenderness in the +eyes that she turned toward him. + +"No, Lennox, I appreciate your generosity, but I do not think it would +be wise for either of us." + +"Don't talk to me of generosity. Good God, Anna, can't you realize +what this separation means to me? I have no heart to go on with my +life away from you. If you are going to throw me over, I shall cut +college and go away." + +She loved him all the better for his impatience. + +"Anna," he said--the two dark heads were close together, the madness of +the impulse was too much for both. Their lips met in a first long +kiss. The man was to have his way. The kiss proved a more eloquent +argument than all his pleading. + +"Say you will, Anna." + +"Yes," she whispered. + +And then they heard the street door open and close, and the voices of +Mrs. Tremont and her daughter, as they made their way to the library. +And the two young souls, who hovered on the brink of heaven, were +obliged to listen to the latest gossip of fashionable Boston. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +CONTAINING SOME REFLECTIONS AND THE ENTRANCE OF MEPHISTOPHELES. + + + "Not all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, + Nor florid prose, nor horrid lies of rhyme, + Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime."--_Byron_. + + +Lennox Sanderson was stretched in his window-seat with a book, of +which, however, he knew nothing--not even the title--his mind being +occupied by other thoughts than reading at that particular time. + +Did he dare do it? The audacity of the proceeding was sufficient to +make the iron will of even Lennox Sanderson waver. And yet, to lose +her! Such a contingency was not to be considered. His mind flew +backward and forward like a shuttle, he turned the leaves of his book; +he smoked, but no light came from within or without. + +He glanced about the familiar objects in his sitting-room as one +unconsciously does when the mind is on the rack of anxiety, as if to +seek council from the mute things that make up so large a part of our +daily lives. + +It was an ideal sitting-room for a college student, the luxury of the +appointments absolutely subservient to taste and simplicity. Heavy red +curtains divided the sitting-room from the bedroom beyond, and imparted +a degree of genial warmth to the atmosphere. Russian candlesticks of +highly polished brass stood about on the mantel-piece and book shelves. +Above the high oak wainscoting the walls were covered with dark red +paper, against which background brown photographs of famous paintings +showed to excellent advantage. They were reproductions of Botticelli, +Rembrant, Franz Hals and Velasquez hung with artistic irregularity. +Above the mantel-piece were curious old weapons, swords, matchetes, +flintlocks and carbines. A helmet and breastplate filled the space +between the two windows. Some dozen or more of pipe racks held the +young collegian's famous collection of pipes that told the history of +smoking from the introduction during the reign of Elizabeth, down to +the present day. + +In taking a mental inventory of his household goods, Sanderson's eyes +fell on the photograph of a woman on the mantel-piece. He frowned. +What right had she there, when his mind was full of another? He walked +over to the picture and threw it into the fire. It was not the first +picture to know a similar fate after occupying that place of honor. + +The blackened edges of the picture were whirling up the chimney, when +Sanderson's attention was arrested by a knock. + +"Come in," he called, and a young man of about his own age entered. +Without being in the least ill-looking, there was something repellent +about the new comer. His eyes were shifty and too close together to be +trustworthy. Otherwise no fault could be found with his appearance. + +"Well, Langdon, how are you?" his host asked, but there was no warmth +in his greeting. + +"As well as a poor devil like me ever is," began Langdon obsequiously. +He sighed, looked about the comfortable room and finished with: "Lucky +dog." + +Sanderson stood on no ceremony with his guest, who was a thoroughly +unscrupulous young man. Once or twice Langdon had helped Sanderson out +of scrapes that would have sent him home from college without his +degree, had they come to the ears of the faculty. In return for this +assistance, Sanderson had lent him large sums of money, which the owner +entertained no hopes of recovering. Sanderson tried to balance matters +by treating Langdon with scant ceremony when they were alone. + +"Well, old man," began his host, "I do not flatter myself that I owe +this call to any personal charm. You dropped in to ease a little +financial embarrassment by the request of a loan--am I not right?" + +"Right, as usual, Sandy, though I'd hardly call it a loan. You know I +was put to a devil of a lot of trouble about that Newton affair, and it +cost money to secure a shut mouth." + +Sanderson frowned. "This is the fifth time I have had the pleasure of +settling for that Newton affair, Langdon. It seems to have become a +sort of continuous performance." + +Langdon winced. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, Langdon. You owe me two thousand now, not +counting that poker debt. We'll call it square if you'll attend to a +little matter for me and I'll give you an extra thou. to make it worth +your while." + +"You know I am always delighted to help you, Sandy." + +"When I make it worth your while." + +"Put it that way if you wish." + +"Do you think that for once in your life you could look less like the +devil than you are naturally, and act the role of parson?" + +"I might if I associate with you long enough. Saintly company might +change my expression." + +"You won't have time to try. You've got to have your clerical look in +good working order by Friday. Incidently you are to marry me to the +prettiest girl in Massachusetts and keep your mouth closed." + +As if to end the discussion, Sanderson strode over to his desk and +wrote out a check for a thousand dollars. He came back, waving it in +the air to dry the ink. + +"Perhaps you will condescend to explain," Langdon said, as he pocketed +the check. + +"Explanations are always bores, my dear boy. There is a little girl +who feels obliged to insist on formalities, not too many. She'll think +your acting as the parson the best joke in the world, but it would not +do to chaff her about it." + +"Oh, I see," and Langdon's laugh was not pleasant. + +"Exactly. You will have everything ready--white choker, black coat and +all the rest of it, and now, my dear boy, you've got to excuse me as +I've got a lot of work on hand." + +They shook hands and Langdon's footsteps were soon echoing down the +corridor. + +The foul insinuation that Sanderson had just made about Anna rankled in +his mind. He went to the sideboard and poured himself out a good stiff +drink. After that, his conscience did not trouble him. + +The work on account of which he excused himself from Langdon's society, +was apparently not of the most pressing order, for Sanderson almost +immediately started for Boston, turning his steps towards Mrs. Standish +Tremont's. + +"Mrs. Tremont was not at home," the man announced at the door, "and +Mrs. Endicott was confined to her room with a bad headache. Should he +take his card to Miss Moore?" + +Sanderson assented, feeling that fate was with him. + +"My darling," he said, as Anna came in a moment later, and folded her +close in a long embrace. She was paler than when he had last seen her +and there were dark rings under her eyes that hinted at long night +vigils. + +"Lennox," she said, "do not think me weak, but I am terribly +frightened. It does not seem as if we were doing the right thing by +our friends." + +"Goosey girl," he said, kissing her, "who was it that said no marriage +ever suited all parties unconcerned?" + +She laughed. "I am thinking more of you Lennox, than of myself. +Suppose your father should not forgive you, cut you off without a cent, +and you should have to drudge all your life with mother and me on your +hands! Don't you think you would wish we had never met, or, at least, +that I had thought of these things?" + +"Suppose the sky should fall, or the sun should go out, or that I could +stop loving you, or any of the impossible things that could not happen +once in a million years. Aren't you ashamed of yourself to doubt me in +this way? Answer me, miss," he said with mock ferocity. + +For answer she laid her cheek against his.--"I am so happy, dear, that +I am almost afraid." + +He pressed her tenderly. "And now, darling, for the +conspiracy--Cupid's conspiracy. You write to your mother to-night and +say that you will be home on Wednesday because you will. Then tell +Mrs. Tremont that you have had a wire from her saying you must go home +Friday (I'll see that you _do_ receive such a telegram), and leave +Friday morning by the 9:40. I will keep out of the way, because the +entire Tremont contingent will doubtless see you off. I will then meet +you at one of the stations near Boston. I can't tell you which, till I +hear from my friend, the Reverend John Langdon. He will have +everything arranged." + +She looked at him with dilating eyes, her cheeks blanched with fear. + +"Anna," he said, almost roughly, "if you have no confidence in me, I +will go out of your life forever." + +"Yes, yes, I believe in you," she said. "It isn't that, but it is the +first thing I have ever kept from mother, and I would feel so much more +comfortable if she knew." + +"Baby. An' so de ittle baby must tell its muvver ev'yting," he +mimicked her, till she felt ashamed of her good impulse--an impulse +which if she had yielded to, it would have saved her from all the +bitterness she was to know. + +"And so you will do as I ask you, darling?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you promise?" + +"Yes," and they sealed the bargain with a kiss. + +"Dearest, I must be going. It would never do for Mrs. Tremont to see +us together. I should forget and call you pet names, and then you +would be sent supperless to bed, like the little girls in the story +books." + +"I suppose you must go," she said, regretfully. + +"It will not be for long," and with another kiss he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE MOCK MARRIAGE. + + + "Thus grief still treads upon the heel of pleasure, + Married in haste, we may repent at leisure."--_Congreve_. + + +It seemed to Anna when Friday came, that human experience had nothing +further to offer in the way of mental anguish and suspense. She had +thrashed out the question of her secret marriage to Sanderson till her +brain refused to work further, and there was in her mind only dread and +a haunting sense of loss. If she had only herself to consider, she +would not have hesitated a moment. But Sanderson, his father, and her +own mother were all involved. + +Was she doing right by her mother? At times, the advantage to the +invalid accruing from this marriage seemed manifold. Again it seemed +to Anna but a senseless piece of folly, prompted by her own selfish +love for Sanderson. And so the days wore on until the eventful Friday +came, and Anna said good-bye to Mrs. Standish Tremont with livid cheeks +and tearful eyes. + +"And do you feel so badly about going away, my dear?" said the great +lady, looking at those visible signs of distress and feeling not a +little flattered by her young cousin's show of affection. "We must +have you down soon again," and she patted Anna's cheek and hurried her +into the car, for Mrs. Tremont had a horror of scenes and signals +warned her that Anna was on the verge of tears. + +The locomotive whistled, the cars gave a jolt, and Anna Moore was +launched on her tragic fate. She never knew how the time passed after +leaving Mrs. Tremont, till Sanderson joined her at the next station. +She felt as if her will power had deserted her, and she was dumbly +obeying the behests of some unseen relentless force. She looked at the +strange faces about her, hopelessly. Perhaps it was not too +late---perhaps some kind motherly woman would tell her if she were +doing right. But they all looked so strange and forbidding, and while +she turned the question over and over in her mind, the car stopped, the +brakeman called the station and Lennox Sanderson got on. + +She turned to him in her utter perplexity, forgetting he was the cause +of it. + +"My darling, how pale you are. Are you ill?" + +"Not ill, but----" He would not let her finish, but reassured her by +the tenderest of looks, the warmest of hand clasps, and the terrified +girl began to lose the hunted feeling that she had. + +They rode on for fully an hour. Sanderson was perfectly +self-possessed. He might have been married every day in the year, for +any difference it made in his demeanor. He was perfectly composed, +laughed and chatted as wittily as ever. In time, Anna partook of his +mood and laughed back. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her +mind. At last they stopped at a little station called Whiteford. An +old-fashioned carriage was waiting for them; they entered it and the +driver, whipped up his horses. A drive of a half mile brought them to +an ideal white cottage surrounded by porches and hidden in a tangle of +vines. The door was opened for them by the Rev. John Langdon in person. +He seemed a preternaturally grave young man to Anna and his clerical +attire was above reproach. Any misgivings one might have had regarding +him on the score of his youth, were more than counterbalanced by his +almost supernatural gravity. + +He apologized for the absence of his wife, saying she had been called +away suddenly, owing to the illness of her mother. His housekeeper and +gardener would act as witnesses. Sanderson hastily took Anna to one +side and said: "I forgot to tell you, darling, that I am going to be +married by my two first names only, George Lennox. It is just the +same, but if the Sanderson got into any of those country marriage +license papers, I should be afraid the governor would hear of +it--penalty of having a great name, you know," he concluded gayly. +"Thought I had better mention it, as it would not do to have you +surprised over your husband's name." + +Again the feeling of dread completely over-powered her. She looked at +him with her great sorrowful eyes, as a trapped animal will sometimes +look at its captor, but she could not speak. Some terrible blight +seemed to have overgrown her brain, depriving her of speech and +willpower. + +The witnesses entered. Anna was too agitated to notice that the Rev. +John Langdon's housekeeper was a very singular looking young woman for +her position. Her hair was conspicuously dark at the roots and +conspicuously light on the ends. Her face was hard and when she smiled +her mouth, assumed a wolfish expression. She was loudly dressed and +wore a profusion of jewelry--altogether a most remarkable looking woman +for the place she occupied. + +The gardener had the appearance of having been suddenly wakened before +nature had had her full quota of sleep. He was blear-eyed and his +breath was more redolent of liquor than one might have expected in the +gardener of a parsonage. + +The room in which the ceremony was to take place was the ordinary +cottage parlor, with crochet work on the chairs, and a profusion of +vases and bric-a-brac on the tables. The Rev. John Langdon requested +Anna and Sanderson to stand by a little marble table from which the +housekeeper brushed a profusion of knick-knacks. There was no Bible. +Anna was the first to notice the omission. This seemed to deprive the +young clergyman of his dignity. He looked confused, blushed, and +turning to the housekeeper told her to fetch the Bible. This seemed to +appeal to the housekeeper's sense of humor. She burst out laughing and +said something about looking for a needle in a haystack. Sanderson +turned on her furiously, and she left the room, looking sour, and +muttering indignantly. She returned, after what seemed an interminable +space of time, and the ceremony proceeded. + +Anna did not recognize her own voice as she answered the responses. +Sanderson's was clear and ringing; his tones never faltered. When the +time came to put the ring on her finger, Anna's hand trembled so +violently that the ring fell to the floor and rolled away. Sanderson's +face turned pale. It seemed to him like a providential dispensation. +For some minutes, the assembled company joined in the hunt for the +ring. It was found at length by the yellow-haired housekeeper, who +returned it with her most wolfish grin. + +"Trust Bertha Harris to find things!" said the clergyman. + +The ceremony proceeded without further incident. The final words were +pronounced and Anna sank into a chair, relieved that it was over, +whether it was for better or for worse. + +Sanderson hurried her into the carriage before the clergyman and the +witnesses could offer their congratulations. He pulled her away from +the yellow-haired housekeeper, who would have smothered her in an +embrace, and they departed without the customary handshake from the +officiating clergyman. + +"You were not very cordial, dear," she said, as they rolled along +through the early winter landscape. + +"Confound them all. I hated to see them near you"--and then, in answer +to her questioning gaze--"because I love you so much, darling. I hate +to see anyone touch you." + +The trees were bare; the fields stretched away brown and flat, like the +folds of a shroud, and the sun was veiled by lowering clouds of gray. +It was not a cheerful day for a wedding. + +"Lennox, did you remember that this is Friday? And I have on a black +dress." + +"And now that Mrs. Lennox has settled the question of to wed or not to +wed, by wedding--behold, she is worrying herself about her frock and +the color of it, and the day of the week and everything else. Was +there ever such a dear little goose?" He pinched her cheek, and +she--she smiled up at him, her fears allayed. + +"And why don't you ask where we are going, least curious of women?" + +"I forgot; indeed I did." + +"We are going to the White Rose Inn. Ideal name for a place in which +to spend one's honeymoon, isn't it?" + +"Any place would be ideal with you Lennie," and she slipped her little +hand into his ruggeder palm. + +At last the White Rose Inn was sighted; it was one of those modern +hostelries, built on an old English model. The windows were muslined, +the rooms were wainscoted in oak, the furniture was heavy and +cumbersome. Anna was delighted with everything she saw. Sanderson had +had their sitting-room filled with crimson roses, they were everywhere; +banked on the mantelpiece, on the tables and window-sills. Their +perfume was to Anna like the loving embrace of an old friend. +Jacqueminots had been so closely associated with her acquaintance with +Sanderson, in after years she could never endure their perfume and +their scarlet petals unnerved her, as the sight of blood does some +women. + +A trim English maid came to assist "Mrs. Lennox," to unpack her things. +Lunch was waiting in the sitting-room. Sanderson gave minute orders +about the icing of his own particular brand of champagne, which he had +had sent from Boston. + +Anna had recovered her good spirits. It seemed "such a jolly lark," as +her husband said. + +"Sweetheart, your happiness," he said, and raised his glass to hers. +Her eyes sparkled like the champagne. The honeymoon at the White Rose +Tavern had begun very merrily. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A LITTLE GLIMPSE OF THE GARDEN OF EDEN. + + + "The moon--the moon, so silver and cold, + Her fickle temper has oft been told, + Now shady--now bright and sunny-- + But of all the lunar things that change, + The one that shows most fickle and strange, + And takes the most eccentric range + Is the moon--so called--of honey."--_Hood_. + + +"My dear, will you kindly pour me a second cup of coffee? Not because +I really want it, you know, but entirely for the aesthetic pleasure of +seeing your pretty little hands pattering about the cups." + +Lennox Sanderson, in a crimson velvet smoking jacket, was regarding +Anna with the most undisguised admiration from the other side of the +round table, that held their breakfast,--their first honeymoon +breakfast, as Anna supposed it to be. + +"Anything to please my husband," she answered with a flitting blush. + +"Your husband? Ah, say it again; it sounds awfully good from you." + +"So you don't really care for any more coffee, but just want to see my +hands among the cups. How appreciative you are!" And there was a +mischievous twinkle in her eye as she began with great elaboration the +pantomimic representation of pouring a cup of coffee, adding sugar and +cream; and concluded by handing the empty cup to Sanderson. "It would +be such a pity to waste the coffee, Lennie, when you only wanted to see +my hands." + +"If I am not going to have the coffee, I insist on both the hands," he +said, taking them and kissing them repeatedly. + +"I suppose I'll have to give it to you on those terms," and she +proceeded to fill the cup in earnest this time. + +"Let me see. How is it that you like it? One lump of sugar and quite +a bit of cream? And tea perfectly clear with nothing at all and toast +very crisp and dry. Dear me, how do women ever remember all their +husband's likes and dislikes? It's worse than learning a new +multiplication table over again," and the most adorable pucker +contracted her pretty brows. + +"And yet, see how beautifully widows manage it, even taking the +thirty-third degree and here you are, complaining before you are +initiated, and kindly remember, Mrs. Lennox Sanderson, if I take but +one lump of sugar in my coffee, there are other ways of sweetening it." +Presumably he got it sweetened to his satisfaction, for the proprietor +of the "White Rose," who attended personally to the wants of "Mr. and +Mrs. Lennox" had to cough three times before he found it discreet to +enter and inquire if everything was satisfactory. + +He bowed three times like a disjointed foot rule and then retired to +charge up the wear and tear to his backbone under the head of "special +attendance." + +"H-m-m!" sighed Sanderson, as the door closed on the bowing form of the +proprietor, "that fellow's presence reminds me that we are not +absolutely alone in the world, and you had almost convinced me that we +were, darling, and that by special Providence, this grim old earth had +been turned into a second Garden of Eden for our benefit. Aren't you +going to kiss me and make me forget in earnest, this time?" + +"I'm sure, Lennie, I infinitely prefer the 'White Rose Inn' with you, +to the Garden of Paradise with Adam." She not only granted the +request, but added an extra one for interest. + +"You'll make me horribly vain, Anna, if you persist in preferring me to +Adam; but then I dare say, Eve would have preferred him and Paradise to +me and the 'White Rose.'" + +"But, then, Eve's taste lacked discrimination. She had to take Adam or +become the first girl bachelor. With me there might have been +alternatives." + +"There might have been others, to speak vulgarly?" + +"Exactly." + +"By Jove, Anna, I don't see how you ever did come to care for me!" The +laughter died out of his eyes, his face grew prefer naturally grave, he +strode over to the window and looked out on the desolate landscape. +For the first time he realized the gravity of his offense. His crime +against this girl, who had been guilty of nothing but loving him too +deeply stood out, stripped of its trappings of sentiment, in all its +foul selfishness. He would right the wrong, confess to her; but no, he +dare not, she was not the kind of woman to condone such an offense. + +"Needles and pins, needles and pins, when a man's married his trouble +begins," quoted Anna gayly, slipping up behind him and, putting her +arms about his neck; "one would think the old nursery ballad was true, +to look at you, Lennox Sanderson. I never saw such a married-man +expression before in my life. You wanted to know why I fell in love +with you. I could not help it, because you are YOU." + +She nestled her head in his shoulder and he forgot his scruples in the +sorcery of her presence. + +"Darling," he said; taking her in his arms, with perhaps the most +genuine affection he ever felt for her, "I wish we could spend our +lives here in this quiet little place, and that there were no +troublesome relations or outside world demanding us." + +"So do I, dear," she answered, "but it could not last; we are too +perfectly happy." + +Neither spoke for some minutes. At that time he loved her as deeply as +it was possible for him to love anyone. Again the impulse came to tell +her, beg for forgiveness and make reparation. He was holding her in +his arms, considering. A moment more, and he would have given way to +the only unselfish impulse in his life. But again the knock, followed +by the discreet cough of the proprietor. And when he entered to tell +them that the horses were ready for their drive, "Mrs. Lennox" hastened +to put on her jacket and "Mr. Lennox" thanked his stars that he had not +spoken. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE WAYS OF DESOLATION. + + + "Oh! colder than the wind that freezes + Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd, + Is that congealing pang which seizes + The trusting bosom when betray'd."--_Moore_. + + +Four months had elapsed since the honeymoon at the White Rose Tavern, +and Anna was living at Waltham with her mother who grew more fretful +and complaining every day. The marriage was still the secret of Anna +and Sanderson. The honeymoon at the White Rose had been prolonged to a +week, but no suspicion had entered the minds of Mrs. Moore or Mrs. +Standish Tremont, thanks to Sanderson's skill in sending fictitious +telegrams, aided by so skilled an accomplice as the "Rev." John Langdon. + +Week after week, Anna had yielded to Sanderson's entreaties and kept +her marriage a secret from her mother. At first he had sent her +remittances of money with frequent regularity, but, lately, they had +begun to fall off, his letters were less frequent, shorter and more +reserved in tone, and the burden of it all was crushing the youth out +of the girl and breaking her spirit. She had grown to look like some +great sorrowful-eyed Madonna, and her beauty had in it more of the +spiritual quality of an angel than of a woman. As the spring came on, +and the days grew longer she looked like one on whom the hand of death +had been laid. + +Her friends noticed this, but not her mother, who was so engrossed with +her own privations, that she had no time or inclination for anything +else. + +"Anna, Anna, to think of our coming to this!" she would wail a dozen +times a day--or, "Anna, I can't stand it another minute," and she would +burst into paroxysms of grief, from which nothing could arouse her, and +utterly exhausted by her own emotions, which were chiefly regret and +self-pity, she would sink off to sleep. Anna had no difficulty in +accounting to her mother for the extra comforts with which Lennox +Sanderson's money supplied them. Mrs. Standish Tremont sometimes sent +checks and Mrs. Moore never bothered about the source, so long as the +luxuries were forthcoming. + +"Is there no more Kumyss, Anna?" she asked one day. + +"No, mother." + +"Then why did you neglect to order it?" + +The girl's face grew red. "There was no money to pay for it, mother. +I am so sorry." + +"And does Frances Tremont neglect us in this way? When we were both +girls, it was quite the other way. My father practically adopted +Frances Tremont. She was married from our house. But you see, Anna, +she made a better marriage than I. Oh, why was your father so +reckless? I warned him not to speculate in the rash way he was +accustomed to doing, but he would never take my advice. If he had, we +would not be as we are now." And again the poor lady was overcome with +her own sorrows. + +It was not Mrs. Tremont's check that had bought the last Kumyss. In +fact, Mrs. Tremont, after the manner of rich relations, troubled her +head but little about her poor ones. Sanderson had sent no money for +nearly a month, and Anna would have died sooner than have asked for it. +He had been to Waltham twice to see Anna, and once she had gone to meet +him at the White Rose Tavern. Mrs. Moore, wrapped in gloom at the loss +of her own luxury, had no interest in the young man who came down from +Boston to call on her daughter. + +"You met him at Cousin Frances's, did you say? I don't see how you can +ask him here to this abominable little house. A girl should have good +surroundings, Anna. Nothing detracts from a girl's beauty so much as +cheap surroundings. Oh, my dear, if you had only been settled in life +before all this happened, I would not complain." And, as usual, there +were more tears. + +But the wailings of her mother, over departed luxuries, and the poverty +of her surroundings were the lightest of Anna's griefs. At their last +meeting--she had gone to him in response to his request--Sanderson's +manner had struck dumb terror into the heart of the girl who had +sacrificed so much at his bidding. She had been very pale. The strain +of facing the terrible position in which she found herself, coupled +with her own failing health, had robbed her of the beautiful color he +had always so frankly admired. Her eyes were big and hollow looking, +and the deep black circles about them only added to her unearthly +appearance. There were drawn lines of pain about the mouth, that +robbed the Cupid's bow of half its beauty. + +"My God, Anna!" he had said to her impatiently. "A man might as well +try to love a corpse as a woman who looks like that." He led her over +to a mirror, that she might see her wasted charms. There was no need +for her to look. She knew well enough, what was reflected there. + +"You have no right to let yourself get like this. The only thing a +woman has is her looks, and it is a crime if she throws them away +worrying and fretting." + +"But Lennox," she answered, desperately, "I have told you how matters +stand with me, and mother knows nothing--suspects nothing." And the +girl broke down and wept as if her heart would break. + +"Anna, for Heaven's sake, do stop crying. I hate a scene worse than +anything in the world. When a woman cries, it means but one thing, and +that is that the man must give in--and in this particular instance I +can't give in. It would ruin me with the governor to acknowledge our +marriage." + +The girl's tears froze at his brutal words. She looked about dazed and +hopeless. + +Sanderson was standing by the window, drumming a tattoo on the pane. +He wheeled about, and said slowly, as if he were feeling his way: + +"Anna, suppose I give you a sum of money and you go away till all this +business is over. You can tell your mother or not; just as you see +fit. As far as I am concerned, it would be impossible for me to +acknowledge our marriage as I have said before. If the governor found +it out, he would cut me off without a cent." + +"But, Lennox, I cannot leave my mother. Her health grows worse daily, +and it would kill her." + +"Then take her with you. She's got to know, sooner or later, I +suppose. Now, don't be a stupid little girl, and everything will turn +out well for us." He patted her cheek, but it was done perfunctorily, +and Anna knew there was no use in making a further appeal to him. + +"Well, my dear," he said, "I have got to take that 4.30 train back to +Cambridge. Here is something for you, and let me know just as soon as +you make up your mind, when you intend to go and where. There is no +use in your staying in Waltham till those old cats begin to talk." + +He put a roll of bills in her hand, kissed her and was gone, and Anna +turned her tottering steps homeward, sick at heart. She must tell her +mother, and the shock of it might kill her. She pressed her hands over +her burning eyes to blot out the hideous picture. Could cruel fate +offer bitterer dregs to young lips? + +She stopped at the postoffice for mail. There was nothing but the +daily paper. She took it mechanically and turned into the little side +street on which they lived. + +The old family servant, who still lived with them, met her at the door, +and told her that her mother had been sleeping quietly for more than an +hour. + +"Good gracious, Miss Anna, but you do look ill. Just step into the +parlor and sit down for a minute, and I'll make you a cup of tea." + +Anna suffered herself to be led into the little room, smiling +gratefully at the old servant as she assisted her to remove her hat and +jacket. She took up the paper mechanically and glanced through its +contents. Her eyes fell on the following item, which she followed with +hypnotic interest: "Harvard Student in Disgrace!" was the headline. + +"John Langdon, a Harvard student, was arrested on the complaint of +Bertha Harris, a young woman, well known in Boston's gas-light circles, +yesterday evening. They had been dining together at a well-known chop +house, when the woman, who appeared to be slightly under the influence +of liquor, suddenly arose and declared that Langdon was trying to rob +her. + +"Both were arrested on the charge of creating a disturbance. At the +State Street Police Station the woman said that Langdon had performed a +mock marriage for a fellow student some four months ago. She had acted +as a witness, for which service she was to receive $50. The money had +never been paid. She stated further that the young man, whom Langdon +is alleged to have married, is the son of a wealthy Boston banker, and +the young woman who was thus deceived is a young relative of one of +Boston's social leaders. + +"Later Bertha Harris withdrew her charges, saying she was intoxicated +when she made them. The affair has created a profound sensation." + +"Mock marriage!" The words whirled before the girl's eyes in letters +of fire. Bertha Harris! Yes, that was the name. It had struck her at +the time when Sanderson dropped the ring. Langdon had said "Bertha +Harris has found it." + +The light of her reason seemed to be going out. From the blackness +that engulfed her, the words "mock marriage" rang in her ear like the +cry of the drowning. + +"God, oh God!" she called and the pent up agony of her wrecked life was +in the cry. + +They found her senseless a moment later, staring up at the ceiling with +glassy eyes, the crumpled paper crushed in her hand. + +"She is dead," wailed her mother. The old servant wasted no time in +words. She lifted up the fragile form and laid it tenderly on the bed. +Then she raised the window and called to the first passerby to run for +the nearest doctor. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. + + + A mother's love--how sweet the name! + What is a mother's love? + --A noble, pure and tender flame, + Enkindled from above, + To bless a heart of earthly mould; + The warmest love that can grow cold; + That is a mother's love.--_James Montgomery_. + + +It took all the medical skill of which the doctor was capable, and the +best part of twenty-four hours of hard work to rouse Anna from the +death-like lethargy into which she had fallen. Toward morning she +opened her eyes and turning to her mother, said appealingly: + +"Mother, you believe I am innocent, don't you?" + +"Certainly, darling," Mrs. Moore replied, without knowing in the least +to what her daughter referred. The doctor, who was present at the +time, turned away. He knew more than the mother. It was one of those +tragedies of everyday life that meant for the woman the fleeing away +from old associations, like a guilty thing, long months of hiding, the +facing of death; and, if death was not to be, the beginning of life +over again branded with shame. And all this bitter injustice because +she had loved much and had faith in the man she loved. The doctor had +faced tragedies before in his professional life, but never had he felt +his duty so heavily laid upon him as when he begged Mrs. Moore for a +few minutes' private conversation in the gray dawn of that early +morning. + +He felt that the life of his patient depended on his preparing her +mother for the worst. The girl, he knew, would probably confess all +during her convalescence, and the mother must be prepared, so that the +first burst of anguish would have expended itself before the girl +should have a chance to pour out the story of her misfortune. + +"Tell me, doctor, is she going to die?" the mother asked, as she closed +the door of the little sitting-room and they were alone. The poor lady +had not thought of her own misfortunes since Anna's illness. The +selfishness of the woman of the world was completely obliterated by the +anxiety of the mother. + +"No, she will not die, Mrs. Moore; that is, if you are able to control +your feelings sufficiently, after I have made a most distressing +disclosure, to give her the love and sympathy that only you can." + +She looked at him with troubled eyes. "Why, doctor, what do you mean? +My daughter has always had my love and sympathy, and if of late I have +appeared somewhat engrossed by my own troubles, I assure you my +daughter is not likely to suffer from it during her illness." + +"Her life depends on how you receive what I am going to tell you. +Should you upbraid her with her misfortune, or fail to stand by her as +only a mother can, I shall not answer for the consequences." Then he +told her Anna's secret. + +The stricken woman did not cry out in her anguish, nor swoon away. She +raised a feebly protesting hand, as if to ward off a cruel blow; then +burying her face in her arms, she cowed before him. Not a sob shook +the frail, wasted figure. It was as if this most terrible misfortune +had dried up the well-springs of grief and robbed her of the blessed +gift of tears. The woman who in one brief year had lost everything +that life held dear to her--husband, home, wealth, position--everything +but this one child, could not believe the terrible sentence that had +been pronounced against her. Her Anna--her little girl! Why, she was +only a child! Oh, no, it could not be true. She never, never would +believe it. + +Her brain whirled and seemed to stop. It refused to grasp so hideous a +proposition. The doctor was momentarily at a loss to know how to deal +with this terrible dry-eyed grief. The set look in her eyes, the +terrible calm of her demeanor were so much more alarming than the +wildest outpourings of grief would, have been. + +"And this seizure, Mrs. Moore. Tell me exactly how it was brought +about," thinking to turn the current of her thoughts even for a moment. + +She told him how Anna had gone out in the early afternoon, without +saying where she was going, and how she had returned to the house about +five o'clock, looking so pale and ill, that Hannah, an old family +servant who still lived with them, noticed it and begged her to sit +down while she went to fetch her a cup of tea. The maid left her +sitting by the fire-place reading a paper, and the next thing was the +terrible cry that brought them both. They found her lying on the floor +unconscious with the crumpled newspaper in her hand. + +"See, here is the paper now, doctor," and he stooped to pick up the +crumpled sheet from which the girl had read her death warrant. +Together they went over it in the hope that it might furnish some clue. +Mrs. Moore's eyes were the first to fall on the fatal paragraph. She +read it through, then showed it to the doctor. + +"That is undoubtedly the cause of the seizure," said the doctor. + +"Oh, my poor, poor darling," moaned the mother, and the first tears +fell. + +In the first bitterness of regret, Mrs. Moore imagined that in +selfishly abandoning herself to her own grief, she must have neglected +her daughter, and her remorse knew no bounds. Again and again she +bitterly denounced herself for giving way to sorrow that now seemed +light and trivial, compared to the black hopelessness of the present. + +Anna's mind wandered in her delirium, and she would talk of her +marriage and beg Sanderson to let her tell her mother all. Then she +would fancy that she was again with Mrs. Tremont and she would go +through the pros and cons of the whole affair. Should she marry him +secretly, as he wished? Yes, it would be better for poor mama, who +needed so many comforts, but was it right? And then the passionate +appeal to Sanderson. Couldn't he realize her position?---- + +"Yes, darling, it is all right. Mother understands," the heartbroken +woman would repeat over and over again, but the sick girl could not +hear. + +And so the days wore on, till at last Anna's wandering mind turned back +to earth, and again took up the burden of living. There was nothing +for her to tell her mother. In her delirium she had told all, and the +mother was prepared to bravely face the worst for her daughter's sake. + +The terrible blow brought mother and daughter closer together than they +had been for years. In their prosperity, the young girl had been busy +with her governess and instructors, while her mother had made a fine +art of her invalidism and spent the greater part of her time at health +resorts, baths and spas. + +By mutual consent, they decided that it was better not to attempt to +seek redress from Sanderson. Anna's letters, written during her +convalescence, had remained unanswered, and any effort to force him, +either by persuasion or process of law, to right the terrible wrong he +had done, was equally repulsive to both mother and daughter. + +Mrs. Standish Tremont was also equally out of the question, as a court +of final appeal. She had been so piqued with Anna for interfering with +her most cherished plans regarding Sanderson and Grace Tremont, that +Anna knew well enough that there would only be further humiliation in +seeking mercy from that quarter. + + +So mother and daughter prepared to face the inevitable alone. To this +end, Mrs. Moore sold the last of her jewelry. She had kept it, +thinking that Anna would perhaps marry some day and appreciate the +heirlooms; but such a contingent was no longer to be considered, and +the jewelry, and the last of the family silver, were sent to be sold, +together with every bit of furniture with which they could dispense, +and mother and daughter left the little cottage in Waltham, and went to +the town of Belden, New Hampshire,--a place so inconceivably remote, +that there was little chance of any of their former friends being able +to trace them, even if they should desire to do so. + +As the summer days grew shorter, and the hour of Anna's ordeal grew +near, Mrs. Moore had but one prayer in her heart, and that was that her +life might be spared till her child's troubles were over. Since Anna's +illness in the early spring, she had utterly disregarded herself. No +complaint was heard to pass her lips. Her time was spent in one +unselfish effort to make her daughter's life less painful. But the +strain of it was telling, and she knew that life with her was but the +question of weeks, perhaps days. As her physical grasp grew weaker, +her mental hold increased proportionately, and she determined to live +till she had either closed her child's eyes in death, or left her with +something for which to struggle, as she herself was now struggling. + +But the poor mother's last wish was not to be granted. In the +beginning of September, just when the earth was full of golden promise +of autumn, she felt herself going. She felt the icy hand of death at +her heart and the grim destroyer whispered in her ear: "Make ready." +Oh, the anguish of going just then, when she was needed so sorely by +her deceived and deserted child. + +"Anna, darling," she called feebly, "I cannot be with you; I am +going--I have prayed to stay, but it was not to be. Your child will +comfort you, darling. There is nothing like a child's love, Anna, to +make a woman forget old sorrows--kiss me, dear----" She was gone. + +And so Anna was to go down into the valley of the shadow of death +alone, and among strangers. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +IN DAYS OF WAITING. + + + "Bent o'er her babe, her eyes dissolved in dew, + The big drops mingled with the milk he drew + Gave the sad presage of his future years-- + The child of misery, baptized in tears."--_John Langhorne_. + + +The days of Anna's waiting lagged. She lost all count of time and +season. Each day was painfully like its predecessor, a period of time +to be gone through with, as best she could. She realized after her +mother's death what the gentle companionship had been to her, what a +prop the frail mother had become in her hour of need. For a great +change had come over the querulous invalid with the beginning of her +daughter's troubles, the grievances of the woman of the world were +forgotten in the anxiety of the mother, and never by look or word did +she chide her daughter, or make her affliction anything but easier to +bear by her gentle presence. + +Anna, sunk in the stupor of her own grief, did not realize the comfort +of her mother's presence until it was too late. She shrank from the +strangers with whom they made their little home--a middle aged +shopkeeper and his wife, who had been glad enough to rent them two +unused rooms in their house at a low figure. They were not lacking in +sympathy for young "Mrs. Lennox," but their disposition to ask +questions made Anna shun them as she would have an infection. After +her mother's death, they tried harder than ever to be kind to her, but +the listless girl, who spent her days gazing at nothing, was hardly +aware of their comings and goings. + +"If you would only try to eat a bit, my dear," said the corpulent Mrs. +Smith, bustling into Anna's room. "And land sakes, don't take on so. +There you set in that chair all day long. Just rouse yourself, my +dear; there ain't no trouble, however bad, but could be wuss." + +To this dismal philosophy, Anna would return a wan smile, while she +felt her heart almost break within her. + +"And, Mrs. Lennox, don't mind what I say to you. I am old enough to be +your grandmother, but if you have quarreled with any one, don't be too +spunky now about making up. Spunk is all right in its place, but its +place ain't at the bedside of a young woman who's got to face the trial +of her life. If you have quarreled with any one--your--your husband, +say, now is the time to make it up, since your ma is gone." + +The old woman looked at her with a strange mixture of motherliness and +curiosity. As she said to her husband a dozen times a day, "her heart +just ached for that pore young thing upstairs," but this tender +solicitude did not prevent her ears from aching, at the same time, to +hear Anna's story. + +"Thank you very much for your kind interest, Mrs. Smith; but really, +you must let me judge of my own affairs." There was a dignity about +the girl that brooked no further interference. + +"That's right, my dear, and I wouldn't have thought of suggesting it, +but you do seem that young--well, I must be going down to put the +potatoes on for dinner. If you want anything, just ring your bell." + +There was not the least resentment cherished by the corpulent Mrs. +Smith. The girl's answer confirmed her opinion from the first. "She +would not send for her husband, because there wasn't no husband to send +for." She mentioned her convictions to her husband and added she meant +to write to sister Eliza that very night. + +"Sister Eliza has an uncommon light hand with babies and that pore +young thing'll be hard pushed to pay the doctor, let alone a nurse." + +These essentially feminine details regarding the talents of Sister +Eliza, did not especially interest Smith, who continued his favorite +occupation--or rather, joint occupations, of whittling and +expectorating. Nevertheless, the letter to Sister Eliza was written, +and not a minute sooner than was necessary; for, the little soul that +was to bring with it forgetfulness for all the agony through which its +mother had lived during that awful year, came very soon after the +arrival of Sister Eliza. + +Anna had felt in those days of waiting that she could never again be +happy; that for her "finis" had been written by the fates. But, as she +lay with the dark-haired baby on her breast, she found herself planning +for the little girl's future; even happy in the building of those +heavenly air-castles that young mothers never weary of building. She +felt the necessity of growing strong so that she could work early and +late, for baby must have everything, even if mother went without. +Sometimes a fleeting likeness to Sanderson would flit across the +child's face, and a spasm of pain would clutch at Anna's heart, but she +would forget it next moment in one of baby's most heavenly smiles. + +She could think of him now without a shudder; even a lingering remnant +of tenderness would flare up in her heart when she remembered he was +the baby's father. Perhaps he would see the child sometime, and her +sweet baby ways would plead to him more eloquently than could all her +words to right the wrong he had done, and so the days slipped by and +the little mother was happy, after the long drawn out days of waiting +and misery. She would sing the baby to sleep in her low contralto +voice, and feel that it mattered not whether the world smiled or +frowned on her, so long as baby approved. + +But this blessed state of affairs was not long to continue. Anna, as +she grew stronger, felt the necessity of seeking employment, but to +this the baby proved a formidable obstacle. No one would give a young +woman, hampered with a child, work. She would come back to the baby at +night worn out in mind and body, after a day of fruitless searching. +These long trips of the little mother, with the consequent long absence +and exhaustion on her return, did not improve the little one's health, +and almost before Anna realized it was ailing, the baby sickened and +died. It was her cruelest blow. For the child's sake she had taken up +her interest in life, made plans; and was ready to work her fingers to +the bone, but it was not to be and with the first falling of the clods +on the little coffin, Anna felt the last ray of hope extinguished from +her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +ON THE THRESHOLD OF SHELTER. + + + Alas! To-day I would give everything + To see a friend's face, or hear voice + That had the slightest tone of comfort in it.--_Longfellow_. + + +About two miles from the town of Belden, N. H., stands an irregular farm +house that looks more like two dwellings forced to pass as one. One part +of it is all gables, and tile, and chimney corners, and antiquity, and +the other is square, slated, and of the newest cut, outside and in. + +The farm is the property of Squire Amasa Bartlett, a good type of the big +man of the small place. He was a contented and would have been a happy +man--or at least thought he would have been--if the dearest wish of his +life could have been realized. It was that his son, Dave, and his wife's +niece, Kate, should marry. Kate was an orphan and the Squire's ward. +She owned the adjoining land, that was farmed with the Squire's as one. +So that Cupid would not have come to them empty handed; but the young +people appeared to have little interest in each other apart from that +cousinly affection which young people who are brought together would in +all probability feel for each other. + +Dave was a handsome, dark-eyed young man, whose silence passed with some +for sulkiness; but he was not sulky--only deep and thoughtful, and +perhaps a little more devoid of levity than becomes a young man of +twenty-five. He had great force of character--you might have seen that +from his grave brow, and felt it in his simple speech and manner, that +was absolutely free from affectation. + +Dave was his mother's idol, but his utter lack of worldliness, his +inability to drive a shrewd bargain sometimes annoyed his father, who was +a just, but an undeniably hard man, who demanded a hundred cents for his +dollar every day in the year. + +Kate, whom the family circle hoped would one day be David's wife, was all +blonde hair, blue eyes and high spirits, so that the little blind god, +aided by the Squire's strategy, propinquity and the universal law of the +attraction of opposites, should have had no difficulty in making these +young people fall in love--but Destiny, apparently, decided to make them +exceptions to all rules. + +Kate was fond of going to Boston to visit a schoolmate, and the Squire, +who looked with small favor on these visits, was disposed to attribute +them to Dave's lack of ardor. + +"Confound it, Looizy," he would say to his wife, "if Dave made it more +lively for Kate she would not be fer flying off to Boston every time she +got a chance." + +And Mrs. Bartlett had no answer. Having a woman's doubtful gift of +intuition, she was afraid that the wedding would never take place, and +also having a woman's tact she never annoyed her husband by saying so. + +Kate, who had been in Boston for two months, was coming home about the +middle of July, and a little flutter of preparation went all over the +farm. + +Dave had said at breakfast that he regretted not being able to go to +Wakefield to meet Kate, but that he would be busy in the north field all +day. Hi Holler, the Bartlett chore boy, had been commissioned to go in +his stead, and Hi's toilet, in consequence, had occupied most of the +morning. + +Mrs. Bartlett was churning in the shadow of the wide porch, the Squire +was mending a horse collar with wax thread, and fussing about the heat +and the slowness of Hi Holler, who was always punctually fifteen minutes +late for everything. + +"Confound it, Looizy, what's keeping that boy; the train'll get in before +he's started. Here you, Hi, what's keeping you?" + +The delinquent stood in the doorway, his broad face rippling with smiles; +he had spent time on his toilet, but he felt that the result justified it. + +His high collar had already begun to succumb to the day, and the labor +involved in greasing his boots, which were much in evidence, owing to the +brevity of the white duck trousers that needed but one or two more +washings, with the accompanying process of shrinking, to convert them +into knickerbockers. Bear's grease had turned his ordinary curling brown +hair into a damp, shining mass that dripped in tiny rills, from time to +time, down on his coat collar, but Hi was happy. Beau Brummel, at the +height of his sartorial fame, never achieved a more self-satisfying +toilet. + +The Squire adjusted his spectacles. "What are you dressing up like that +on a week day for, Hi? Off with you now; and if you ain't in time for +them cars you'll catch 'Hail Columbia' when you get back." + +"Looizy," said the Squire, as soon as Hi was out of hearing, "why didn't +Dave go after Katie? Yes, I know about the hay. Hay is hay, but it +ought not to come first in a man's affections." + +"You'd better let 'em alone, Amasy; if they're going to marry they will +without any help from us; love affairs don't seem to prosper much, when +old folks interfere." + +"Looizy, it's my opinion that Dave's too shy to make up to women folks. +I don't think he'll even get up the courage to ask Kate to marry him." + +"Well, I never saw the man yet who was too bashful to propose to the +right woman." And a great deal of decision went into the churning that +accompanied her words. + +"Mebbe so, mebbe so," said the Squire. He felt that the vagaries of the +affections was too deep a subject for him. "Anyhow, Looizy, I don't want +no old maids and bachelors potterin' round this farm getting cranky +notions in their heads. Look at the professor. Why, a good woman would +have taken the nonsense out of him years ago." + +Mrs. Bartlett did not have to go far to look at the professor. He was +flying about her front garden at that very moment in an apparently +distracted state, crouching, springing, hiding back of bushes and +reappearing with the startling swiftness of magic. The Bartletts were +quite used to these antics on the part of their well-paying summer +boarder. He was chasing butterflies--a manifestly insane proceeding, of +course, but if a man could afford to pay ten dollars a week for summer +board in the State of New Hampshire, he could afford to chase butterflies. + +Professor Sterling was an old young man who had given up his life to +entomology; his collection of butterflies was more vital to him than any +living issue; the Bartletts regarded him as a mild order of lunatic, +whose madness might have taken a more dangerous form than making up long +names for every-day common bugs. + +"Look at him, just look at him, Looizy, sweating himself a day like this, +over a common dusty miller. It beats all, and with his money." + +"Well, it's a harmless amusement," said the kindly Louisa, "there's a +heap more harmful things that a man might chase than butterflies." + +The stillness of the midsummer day was broken by the sound of far-off +singing. It came in full-toned volume across the fields, the high +soaring of women's voices blended with the deeper harmony of men. + +"What's that?" said the Squire testily, looking in the direction of the +strawberry beds, from whence the singing came. + +"It's only the berry-pickers, father," said David, coming through the +field gate and going over to the well for a drink. + +"I wish they'd work more and sing less," said the Squire. "All this +singing business is too picturesque for me." + +"They've about finished, father. I came for the money to pay them off." + +It was characteristic of Dave to uphold the rights of the berry-pickers. +They were all friends of his, young men and women who sang in the village +choir and who went out among their neighbors' berry patches in summer, +and earned a little extra money in picking the fruit. The village +thought only the more of them for their thrift, and their singing at the +close of their work was generally regarded in the light of a favor. +Zeke, Sam, Cynthia and Amelia who formed the quartet, had all fine voices +and no social function for miles around Wakefield was complete without +their music. + +The Squire said no more about the berry-pickers. Dave handed him a paper +on which the time of each berry-picker and the amount of his or her wage +was marked opposite. The Squire took it and adjusted his glasses with a +certain grimness--he was honest to the core, but few things came harder +to him than parting with money. + +Dave and his mother at the churn exchanged a friendly wink. The +extracting of coin from the head of the house was no easy process. +Mother and son both enjoyed its accomplishment through an outside agency. +It was too hard a process in the home circle to be at all agreeable. + +While the Squire was wrestling with his arithmetic, Dave noticed a +strange girl pass by the outer gate, pause, go on and then return. He +looked at her with deep interest. She was so pale and tired-looking it +seemed as if she had not strength enough left to walk to the house. Her +long lashes rested wearily on the pale cheeks. She lifted them with an +effort, and Dave found himself staring eagerly in a pair of great, +sorrowful brown eyes. + +The girl came on unsteadily up the walk to where the Squire sat, thumbing +his account to the berry-pickers. "Well, girl, who are you?" he said, +not as unkindly as the words might imply. + +The sound of her own voice, as she tried to answer his question, was like +the far-off droning of a river. It did not seem to belong to her. "My +name is Moore--Anna Moore--and I thought--I hoped perhaps you might be +good enough to give me work." The strange faces spun about her eyes. +She tottered and would have fallen if Dave had not caught her. + +Dave, the silent, the slow of action, the cool-headed, seemed suddenly +bereft of his chilling serenity. "Here, mother, a chair; father, some +water, quick." He carried the swooning girl to the shadow of the porch +and fanned her tenderly with his broad-brimmed straw hat. + +The old people hastened to do his bidding. Dave, excited and issuing +orders in that tone, was too unusual to be passed over lightly. + +"What were you going to say, Miss Moore?" said the Squire as soon as the +brown eyes opened. + +"I thought, perhaps, I might find something to do here--I'm looking for +work." + +"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Bartlett, smoothing the dark curls, "you are +not fit to stand, let alone work." + +"You could not earn your salt," was the Squire's less sympathetic way of +expressing the same sentiment. "Where is your home?" + +"I have no home." She looked at them desperately, her dark eyes +appealing to one and the other, as if they were the jury that held her +life in the balance. Only one pair of eyes seemed to hold out any hope. + +"If you would only try me I could soon prove to you that I am not +worthless." Unconsciously she held out her hand in entreaty. + +"Here we are, here we are, all off for Boston!" The voice was Hi's. He +was just turning in at the field gate with Kate beside him. Kate, a +ravishing vision, in pink muslin; a smiling, contented vision of happy, +rosy girlhood, coming back to the home-nest, where a thousand welcomes +awaited her. + +"Hello, every one!" she said, running in and kissing them in turn, "how +nice it is to be home." + +They forgot the homeless stranger and her pleading for shelter in their +glad welcome to the daughter of the house. She had shrunk back into the +shadow. She had never felt the desolation, the utter loneliness of her +position so keenly before. + +"Hurrah for Kate!" cried the Squire, and everyone took it up and gave +three cheers for Kate Brewster. + +The wanderer withdrew into the deepest shadow of the porch, that her +alien presence might not mar the joyous home-coming of Kate Brewster. +There was no jealousy in her soul for the fair girl who had such a royal +welcome back to the home-nest. She would not have robbed her of it if +such a thing had been possible, but the sense of her own desolation +gripped at the heart like an iron band. + +She waited like a mendicant to beg for the chance of earning her bread. +That was all she asked--the chance to work, to eat the bread of +independence, and yet she knew how slim the chance was. She had been +wandering about seeking employment all day, and no one would give it. + +Only Dave had not forgotten the stranger is the joy of Kate's +home-coming. He had welcomed the flurry of excitement to say a few words +to his mother, his sworn ally in all the little domestic plots. + +"Mother," he said, "do contrive to keep that girl. It would be nothing +short of murder to turn her out on the highway." + +A pressure of the motherly hand assured Dave that he could rely on her +support. + +"Well, well, Katie," said the Squire with his arm around his niece's +waist, "the old place has been lonely without you!" + +"Uncle, who is that girl on the porch?" she asked in an undertone. + +"That we don't know; says her name is Moore, and that she wants work. +Kind of sounds like a fairy story, don't it, Kate?" + +"Poor thing, poor thing!" was Kate's only answer. + +"Amasy," said Mrs. Bartlett, assuming all the courage of a rabbit about +to assert itself, "this family is bigger than it was with Kate home and +the professor here, and I am not getting younger--I want you to let me +keep this young woman to help me about the house." + +The Squire set his jaw, always an ominous sign to his family. "I don't +like this takin' strangers, folks we know nothing about; it's mighty +suspicious to see a young woman tramping around the country, without a +home, looking for work. I don't like it." + +The girl, who sat apart while these strangers considered taking her in, +as if she had been a friendless dog, arose, her eyes were full of unshed +tears, her voice quivered, but pride supported her. Turning to the +Squire, she said: + +"You are suspicious because you are blest with both home and family. My +mother died a few months ago, I myself have been ill. I make this +explanation not because your kindness warrants it, sir, but because your +family would have been willing to take me on faith." She bowed her head +in the direction of Mrs. Bartlett and Dave. + +"Well," the Squire interrupted, "you need not go away hungry, you can +stop here and eat your dinner, and then Hi Holler can take you in the +wagon to the place provided for such unfortunate cases, and where you'll +have food and shelter." + +"The poor farm, do you mean?" the girl said, wildly; "no, no; if you will +not give me work I will not take your charity." + +"Father!" exclaimed Dave and his mother together. + +"Now, now," said Kate, going up to the Squire and putting her hands on +his shoulders, "it seems to me as if my uncle's been getting a little +hard while I've been away from home, and I don't think it has improved +him a bit. The uncle I left here had a heart as big as a house. What +has he done with it?" + +Here the professor came to Kate's aid. "Squire," said he, "isn't it +written that 'If ye do it unto the least of these, ye do it unto me?'" + +"Well, well," said the Squire, "when a man's family are against him, +there's only one thing for him to do if he wants any peace of mind, and +that is to come round to their way, and I ain't never goin' to have it +said I went agin the _Scripter_." He went over to Anna and took her +pale, thin hand in his great brown one. + +"Well, little woman, they want you to stay, and I am not going to +interfere. I leave it to you that I won't live to regret it." + +This time the tears splashed down the pale cheeks. "Dear sir, I thank +you, and I promise you shall never repent this kindness." Then turning +to the rest--"I thank you all. I can only repay you by doing my best." + +"Well said, well said," and Kate gave her a sisterly pat on the shoulder. + +Anna would not listen to Mrs. Bartlett's kind suggestion that she should +rest a little while. She went immediately to the house, removed her hat, +and returned completely enveloped in a big gingham apron that proved +wonderfully becoming to her dark beauty--or was it that the homeless, +hunted look had gone out of those sorrowful eyes? + +And so Anna Moore had found a home at last, one in which she would have +to work early and late to retain a foothold--but still a home, and the +word rang in her ears like a soothing song, after the anguish of the last +year. Her youth and beauty, she had long since discovered, were only +barriers to the surroundings she sought. There had been many who offered +to help the friendless girl, but their offers were such that death seemed +preferable, by contrast, and Anna had gone from place to place, seeking +only the right to earn her bread, and yet, finding only temptation and +danger. + +Dave, passing out to the barn, stopped for a moment to regard her, as she +sat on the lowest step of the porch, with her sleeves rolled above the +elbow, working a bowl of butter. He smiled at her encouragingly--it was +well that none of his family saw it. Such a smile from the shy, silent +Dave might have been a revelation to the home circle. + +[Illustration: Martha Perkins and Maria Poole.] + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +ANNA AND SANDERSON AGAIN MEET. + + + "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd + Nor hell a fury like a woman scorn'd."--_Congreve_. + + +"And who be you, with those big brown eyes, sitting on the Bartlett's +porch working that butter as if you've been used to handling butter all +your life? No city girl, I'm sure." Anna had been at the Squire's for +a week when the above query was put to her. + +The voice was high and rasping. The whole sentence was delivered +without breath or pause, as if it was one long word. The speaker might +have been the old maid as portrayed in the illustrated weekly. Nothing +was lacking--corkscrew curls, prunella boots, cameo brooch and chain, a +gown of the antiquated Redingote type, trimmed with many small ruffles +and punctuated, irrelevantly, with immovable buttons. + +"I am Anna Moore." + +"Know as much now as I ever did," snapped the interlocutor. + +"I have come to work for Mrs. Bartlett, to help her about the house." + +"Land sakes. Bartlett's keeping help! How stylish they're getting." + +"Yes, Marthy, we are progressing," said Kate, coming out of the house. +"Anna, this is our friend, Miss Marthy Perkins." + +The village gossip's confusion was but momentary. "Do you know, Kate, +I just came over a-purpose to see if you'd come. What kind of clothes +are they wearing in Boston? Are shirtwaists going to have tucked backs +or plain? I am going to make over my gray alpaca, and I wouldn't put +the scissors into it till I seen you." + +"Come upstairs, Marthy, and I'll show you my new shirtwaists." + +"Land sakes," said the spinster, bridling. "I would be delighted, but +you know how I can't move without that Seth Holcomb a-taggin' after me; +it's just awful the way I am persecuted. I do wish I'd get old and +then there'll be an end of it." She held out a pair of mittens, +vintage of 1812, to Kate, appealingly. + +Seth Holcomb stumped in sight as she concluded; he had been Martha's +faithful admirer these twenty years, but she would never reward him; +her hopes of younger and less rheumatic game seemed to spring eternal. + +During the few days that Anna had made one of the Squire's family she +went about with deep thankfulness in her heart; she had been given the +chance to work, to earn her bread by these good people. Who could +tell--as time went on perhaps they would grow fond of her, learn to +regard her as one of themselves--it was so much better than being so +utterly alone. + +Her energy never flagged, she did her share of the work with the light +hand of experience that delighted the old housekeeper. It was so good +to feel a roof over her head, and to feel that she was earning her +right to it. + +Supper had been cooked, the table laid and everything was in readiness +for the family meal, but the old clock wanted five minutes of the hour; +the girl came out into the glowing sunset to draw a pail of water from +the old well, but paused to enjoy the scene. Purple, gold and crimson +was the mantle of the departing day; and all her crushed and hopeless +youth rose, cheered by its glory. + +"Thank God," she murmured fervently, "at last I have found a refuge. I +am beginning life again. The shadow of the old one will rest on me +forever, but time and work, the cure for every grief, will cure me." + +Her eyes had been turned toward the west, where the day was going out +in such a riot of splendor, and she had not noticed the man who entered +the gate and was making his way toward her, flicking his boots with his +riding crop as he walked. + +She turned suddenly at the sound of steps on the gravel; in the +gathering darkness neither could see nor recognize the other till they +were face to face. + +The woman's face blanched, she stifled an exclamation of horror and +stared at him. + +"You! you here!" + +It was Lennox Sanderson, and the sight of him, so suddenly, in this +out-of-the-way place, made her reel, almost fainting against the +well-curb. + +He grabbed her arm and shook her roughly, and said, "What are you doing +here, in this place?" + +"I am trying to earn my living. Go, go," she whispered. + +"Do you think I came here after you?" he sneered. "I've come to see +the Squire." All the selfishness and cowardice latent in Sanderson's +character were reflected in his face, at that moment, destroying its +natural symmetry, disfiguring it with tell-tale lines, and showing him +at his par value--a weak, contemptible libertine, brought to bay. + +This meeting with his victim after all these long months of silence, in +this remote place, deprived him, momentarily, of his customary poise +and equilibrium. Why was she here? Would she denounce him to these +people? What effect would it have? were some of the questions that +whirled through his brain as they stood together in the gathering +twilight. + +But the shrinking look in her eyes allayed his fears. He read terror +in every line of her quivering figure, and in the frantic way she clung +to the well-curb to increase the space between them. She, with the +right to accuse, unconsciously took the attitude of supplication. The +man knew he had nothing to fear, and laid his plans accordingly. + +"I don't believe you've come here to look for work," he said, stooping +over the crouching figure. "You've come here to make trouble--to hound +the life out of me." + +"My hope in coming here was that I might never see you again. What +could I want of you, Lennox Sanderson?" + +The measured contempt of her tones was not without its effect. He +winced perceptibly, but his coarse instincts rallied to his help and +again he began to bully: + +"Spare me the usual hard-luck story of the deceived young woman trying +to make an honest living. If you insist on drudging, it's your own +fault. I offered to take care of you and provide for your future, but +you received my offers of assistance with a 'Villain-take-your-gold' +style, that I was not prepared to accept. If, as you say, you never +wish to see me again, what is simpler than to go away?" + +His cold-blooded indifference, his utter withdrawal from the calamity +he had brought upon her, his airy suggestion that she should go because +it suited his pleasure to remain, maddened Anna. The blood rushed to +her pale cheeks and there came her old conquering beauty with it. She +eyed him with equal defiance. + +"I shall not go, because it does not suit me." And then wavering a +little at the thought of her wretched experience--"I had too much +trouble finding a place where an honest home is offered for honest +work, to leave this one for your whim. No, I shall not go." + +They heard footsteps moving about the house. A lamp shone out from the +dining-room window. The Squire's voice, inquiring for Kate, came +across to them on the still summer air. They looked into each other's +pale, determined faces. Which would yield? It was the old struggle +between the sexes--a struggle old as earth, unsettled as chaos. + +Which should yield? The man who had sinned much, or the woman who had +loved much? + +Sanderson employed all the force of his brutality to frighten Anna into +yielding. "See here," and he caught her arm in no uncertain grasp. +"You've got to go. You can't stay here in the same place with me. If +money is what you want, you shall have it; but you've got to go. Do +you understand? _Go_!" + +He had emphasized his words by tightening the grip on her arm, and the +pain of it well nigh made her cry out. He relaxed his hold just as Hi +Holler came out on the porch, seized the supper horn and blew it +furiously. The Squire came down and looked amazed at the smartly +dressed young city man talking to Anna. + +"Squire," she said, taking the initiative, "this gentleman is inquiring +for you." + +On hearing the Squire's footsteps, Sanderson turned to him with all the +cordiality at his command, and, slapping him on the back, said: "Hello, +Squire, I've just ridden over to talk to you about your prize Jersey +heifer." The Squire had only met Sanderson once or twice before, and +that was prior to Kate's visit to Boston; but he knew all about the +young man who had become his neighbor. + +Lennox Sanderson was a lucky fellow, and while waiting impatiently for +his father to start him in life, his uncle, the judge, died and +mentioned no one but Lennox Sanderson in his will. + +The Squire had known the late Judge Sanderson, the "big man" of the +county, very well, and lost no time in cultivating the acquaintance of +the judge's nephew, who had fallen heir to the fine property the judge +had accumulated, no small part of which was the handsome "country seat" +of the judge in the neighborhood. + +That is how this fine young city man happened to drop in on the Squire +so unceremoniously. He had learned of Kate's return from Boston and +was hastening to pay his respects to the pretty girl. To say he was +astounded to find Anna on the spot is putting it mildly. He believed +she had learned of his good fortune and had followed him, to make +disagreeable exactions. It put him in a rage and it cost him a strong +effort to conceal it before the Squire. + +"Walk right in," said the Squire, beaming with hospitality. Sanderson +entered and the girl found herself alone in the twilight. Anna sat on +the bench by the well-curb and faced despair. She was physically so +weak from her long and recent illness that the unexpected interview +with Sanderson left her faint and exhausted. The momentary flare up of +her righteous indignation at Sanderson's outrageous proposition that +she should go away had sapped her strength and she made ready to meet +one of the great crises of life with nerveless, trembling body and a +mind incapable of action. + +She pressed her throbbing head on the cool stones of the well-curb and +prayed for light. What could she do--where could she go? Her fate +rose up before her like a great stone prison wall at which she beat +with naked bleeding hand and the stones still stood in all their +mightiness. + +How could she cope with such heartless cruelty as that of Sanderson? +All that she had asked for was an honest roof in return for honest +toil. And there are so few such, thought the helpless girl, +remembering with awful vividness her efforts to find work and the +pitfalls and barriers that had been put in her way, often in the guise +of friendly interest. + +She could not go out and face it all over again. It was so bleak--so +bleak. There seemed to be no place in the great world that she could +fill, no one stood in need of her help, no one required her services. +They had no faith in her story that she was looking for work and had no +home. + +"What, a good-looking young girl like you! What, no home? No, no; we +don't need you," or the other frightful alternative. + +And yet she must go. Sanderson was right. She could not stay where he +was. She must go. But where? + +She could hear his voice in the dining-room, entertaining them all with +his inimitable gift of story-telling. And then, their laughter--peal +on peal of it--and his voice cutting in, with its well-bred modulation: +"Yes, I thought it was a pretty good story myself, even if the joke was +on me." And again their laughter and applause. She had no weapons +with which to fight such cold-blooded selfishness. To stay meant +eternal torture. She saw herself forced to face his complacent sneer +day after day and death on the roadside seemed preferable. + +She tried to face the situation in all its pitiful reality, but the +injustice of it cried out for vengeance and she could not think. She +could only bury her throbbing temples in her hands and murmur over and +over again: "It is all wrong." + +David found her thus, as he made his way to the house from the barn, +where he had been detained later than the others. When he saw her +forlorn little figure huddled by the well-curb in an attitude of +absolute dejection, he could not go on without saying some word of +comfort. + +"Miss Anna," he said very gently, "I hope you are not going to be +homesick with us." + +She lifted a pale, tear-stained face, on which the lines of suffering +were written far in advance of her years. + +"It does not matter, Mr. David," she answered him, "I am going away." + +"No, no, you are not going to do anything of the kind," he said gently; +"the work seems hard today because it is new, but in a day or two you +will become accustomed to it, and to us. We may seem a bit hard and +unsympathetic; I can see you are not used to our ways of living, and +looking at things, but we are sincere, and we want you to stay with us; +indeed, we do." + +She gave him a wealth of gratitude from her beautiful brown eyes. "It +is not that I find the place hard, Mr. David. Every one has been so +kind to me that I would be glad to stay, but--but----" + +He did not press her for her reason. "You have been ill, I believe you +said?" + +"Yes, very ill indeed, and there are not many who would give work to a +delicate girl. Oh, I am sorry to go----" She broke off wildly, and +the tears filled her eyes. + +"Miss Anna, when one is ill, it's hard to know what is best. Don't +make up your mind just yet. Stay for a few days and give us a trial, +and just call on me when you want a bucket of water or anything else +that taxes your strength." + +She tried to answer him but could not. They were the first words of +real kindness, after all these months of sorrow and loneliness, and +they broke down the icy barrier that seemed to have enclosed her heart. +She bent her head and wept silently. + +"There, there, little woman," he said, patting her shoulder when he +would have given anything to put his arm around her and offer her the +devotion of his life. But Dave had a good bit of hard common sense +under his hat, and he knew that such a declaration would only hasten +her departure and the wise young man continued to be brotherly, to urge +her to stay for his mother's sake, and because it was so hard for a +young woman to find the proper kind of a home, and really she was not a +good judge of what was best for her. + +And Anna, whose storm-swept soul was so weary of beating against the +rocks, listened and made up her mind to enjoy the wholesome +companionship of these good people, for a little while at least. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +RUSTIC HOSPITALITY. + + + "Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crowned, + Where all the ruddy family around + Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, + Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale."--_Goldsmith_. + + +Sanderson's clothes, his manner, his slightly English accent, were all +so many items in a good letter of credit to those simple people. The +Squire was secretly proud at having a city man like young Sanderson for +a neighbor. It would unquestionably add tone to Wakefield society. + +Kate regarded him with the frank admiration of a young woman who +appreciates a smart appearance, good manner, and the indefinable +something that goes to make up the ensemble of the man of the world. +He could say nothing, cleverly; he had little subtleties of manner that +put the other men she had met to poor advantage beside him. On the +night in question the Squire was giving a supper in honor of the +berry-pickers who had helped to gather in the crop the week before. +Afterwards, they would sing the sweet, homely songs that all the +village loved, and then troop home by moonlight to the accompaniment of +their own music. + +"Well, Mr. Sanderson," said the Squire, "suppose you stay to supper +with us. See, we've lots of good company"--and he waved his hand, +indicating the different groups, "and we'll talk about the stock +afterwards." + +He accepted their invitation to supper with flattering alacrity; they +were so good to take pity on a solitaire, and Mrs. Bartlett was such a +famous housekeeper; he had heard of her apple-pies in Boston. Dave +scented patronage in his "citified" air; he and other young men at the +table--young men who helped about the farm--resented everything about +the stranger from the self-satisfied poise of his head to the +aggressive gloss on his riding-boots. + +"Why, Dave," said Kate to her cousin in an undertone, "you look +positively fierce. If I had a particle of vanity I should say you were +jealous." + +"When I get jealous, Kate, it will be of a man, not of a tailor's sign." + +"Say, Miss Kate," said Hi Holler, "they're a couple of old lengths of +stove-pipes out in the loft; I'm going to polish 'em up for leggins. +Darned if I let any city dude get ahead o' me." + +"The green-eyed monster is driving you all crazy," laughed Kate, in +great good humor. "The girls don't seem to find any fault with him." +Cynthia and Amelia were both regarding him with admiring glances. + +Dave turned away in some impatience. Involuntarily his eyes sought out +Anna Moore to see if she, too, was adding her quota of admiration to +the stranger's account. But Anna had no eyes or ears for anything but +the business of the moment, which was attending to the Squire's guests. +Evidently one woman could retain her senses in the presence of this +tailor's figure. Dave's admiration of Anna went up several points. + +She slipped about as quietly as a spirit, removing and replacing dishes +with exquisite deftness. Even the Squire was forced to acknowledge +that she was a great acquisition to the household. She neither sought +to avoid nor to attract the attention of Sanderson; she waited on him +attentively and unobtrusively as she would have waited on any other +guest at the Squire's table. The Squire and Sanderson retired to the +porch to discuss the purchase of the stock, and Mrs. Bartlett and Anna +set to work to clear away the dishes. Kate excused herself from +assisting, as she had to assume the position as hostess and soon had +the church choir singing in its very best style. Song after song rang +out on the clear summer air. It was a treat not likely to be forgotten +soon by the listeners. All the members of the choir had what is known +as "natural talent," joined to which there was a very fair amount of +cultivation, and the result was music of a most pleasing type, music +that touches the heart--not a mere display Of vocal gymnastics. + +Toward the close of the festivities, the sound of wheels was heard, and +the cracked voice of Rube Whipple, the town constable, urging his +ancient nag to greater speed, issued out of the darkness. Rube was +what is known as a "character." He had held the office, which on +account of being associated with him had become a sort of municipal +joke, in the earliest recollections of the oldest inhabitants. He +apparently got no older. For the past fifty years he had looked as if +he had been ready to totter into the grave at any moment, but he took +it out apparently, in attending to other people's funerals instead. +His voice was cracked, he walked with a limp, and his clothes, Hi +Holler said: "was the old suit Noah left in the ark." + +The choir had just finished singing "Rock of Ages" as the constable +turned his venerable piece of horseflesh into the front yard. + +"Well, well," he said, in a voice like a graphophone badly in need of +repair, "I might have knowed it was the choir kicking up all that +rumpus. Heard the row clear up to the postoffice, and thought I'd come +up to see if anyone was getting murdered." + +"Thought you'd be on the spot for once, did you, Rube?" inquired Hi +Holler. "Well, seeing you're here, we might accommodate you, by +getting up a murder, or a row, or something. 'Twould be too bad to +have nothing happen, seeing you are on hand for once." + +The choir joined heartily in the laugh on the constable, who waited +till it had subsided and then said: + +"Well, what's the matter with jailing all of you for disturbing the +public peace. There's law for it--'disturbin' the public peace with +strange sounds at late and unusual hours of the night.'" + +"All right, constable," said Cynthia, "I suppose you'll drive us to +jail in that rig o' yourn. I'd be willing to stay there six months for +the sake o' driving behind so spry a piece of horse-flesh as that." + +"'Tain't the horseflesh she's after, constable, it's the driver. +Everyone 'round here knows how Cynthia dew admire you." + +"Professional jealousy is what's at the bottom of this," declared Kate, +"the choir is jealous of Uncle Rube's reputation as a singer, and Uncle +Rube does not care for the choir's new-fangled methods of singing. +Rivalry! Rivalry! That's what the matter." + +"That's right, Miss Kate," squeaked the constable, "they're jealous of +my singing. There ain't one of 'em, with all their scaling, and +do-re-mi-ing can touch me. If I turned professional to-day, I'd make +more'n all of 'em put together." + +"That's cause they'd pay you to quit. Ha, ha," said Hi Holler. + +And so the evening passed with the banter that invariably took place +when Rube was of the party. It was late when they left the Squire's, +the constable going along with them, and all singing merrily as birds +on a summer morning. + +David went out under the stars and smoked innumerable pipes, but they +did not give their customary solace to-night. There was an upheaval +going on in his well regulated mind. "Who was she? What was the +mystery about her? How did a girl like that come to be tramping about +the country looking for work?" Her manner of speaking, the very +intonations of her voice, her choice of words, all proclaimed her from +a different world from theirs. He had noticed her hands, white and +fragile, and her small delicate wrists. They did not belong to a +working woman. + +And her eyes, that seemed to hold the sorrows of centuries in their +liquid depths. What was the mystery of it all? And that insolent city +chap! What a look he had given her. The memory of it made Dave's +hands come together as if he were strangling something. But it was all +too deep for him. The lights glimmered in the rooms upstairs. His +father walked to the outer gate to say good-night to Mr. Sanderson--and +he tried to justify the feeling of hatred he felt toward Sanderson, but +could not. The sound of a shutter being drawn in, caused him to look +up. Anna, leaned out in the moonlight for a moment before drawing in +the blind. Dave took off his hat--it was an unconscious act of +reverence. The next moment, the grave, shy countryman had smiled at +his sentimentality. The shutters closed and all was dark, but Dave +continued to think and smoke far into the night. + +The days slipped by in pleasant and even tenor. The summer burned +itself out in a riot of glorious colors, the harvest was gathered in, +and the ripe apples fell from the trees--and there was a wail of coming +winter to the night wind. Anna Moore had made her place in the +Bartlett family. The Squire could not imagine how he ever got along +without her; she always thought of everyone's comfort and remembered +their little individual likes and dislikes, till the whole household +grew to depend on her. + +But she never spoke of herself nor referred to her family, friends or +manner of living, before coming to the Bartlett farm. + +When she had first come among them, her beauty had caused a little +ripple of excitement among the neighbors; the young men, in particular, +were all anxious to take her to husking bees and quilting parties, but +she always had some excellent excuse for not going, and while her +refusals were offered with the utmost kindness, there was a quiet +dignity about the girl that made any attempt at rustic playfulness or +familiarity impossible. + +Sanderson came to the house from time to time, but Anna treated him +precisely as she would have treated any other young man who came to the +Squire's. She was the family "help," her duty stopped in announcing +the guests--or sometimes, and then she felt that fate had been +particularly cruel--in waiting on him at table. + +Once or twice when Sanderson had found her alone, he had attempted to +speak to her. But she silenced him with a look that seat him away +cowering like a whipped cur. If he had any interest in any member of +the Squire's family, Anna did not notice it. He was an ugly scar on +her memory, and when not actually in his presence she tried to forget +that he lived. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +KATE BREWSTER HOLDS SANDERSON'S ATTENTION. + + + "A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch + Incapable of pity, void and empty + From any dram of mercy."--_Shakespeare_. + + +It was perhaps owing to the fact that Anna strove hourly to eliminate +the memory of Lennox Sanderson from her life, that she remained wholly +unaware of that which every member of the Squire's household was +beginning to notice: namely, that Lennox Sanderson was becoming daily +more attentive to Kate Brewster. + +She had more than once hazarded a guess on why a man of Sanderson's +tastes should care to remain in so quiet a neighborhood, but could +arrive at no solution of the case. In discussing him, she had heard +the Bartletts quote his reason, that he was studying practical farming, +and later on intended to take it up, on a large scale. When she had +first seen him at the Squire's, she had made up her mind that it would +be better for her to go away, but the memory of the homeless wanderings +she had endured after her mother's death, filled her with terror, and +after the first shock of seeing Sanderson, she concluded that it was +better to remain where she was, unless he should attempt to force his +society on her, in which case she would have to go, if she died by the +wayside. + +Dave was coming across the fields late one autumn afternoon when he saw +Anna at the well, trying with all her small strength to draw up a +bucket of water. The well--one of the old-fashioned kind that worked +by a "sweep" and pole, at the end of which hung "the old oaken bucket" +which Anna drew up easily till the last few feet and then found it was +hard work. She had both hands on the iron bale of the bucket and was +panting a little, when a deep, gentle voice said in her ear: "Let go, +little woman, that's too heavy for you." And she felt the bucket taken +forcibly out of her hand. + +"Never mind me, Mr. David," she said, giving way reluctantly. + +"Always at some hard work or other," he said; "you won't quit till you +get laid up sick." + +He filled the water-pail from the bucket for her, which she took up and +was about to go when he found courage to say: + +"Won't you stay a minute, Anna, I want to talk to you. + +"Anna, have you any relatives?" + +"Not now." + +"But have you no friends who knew you and loved you before you came to +us?" + +"I want nothing of my friends, Mr. David, but their good will." + +"Anna, why will you persist in cutting yourself off from the rest of +the world like this? You are too good, too womanly a girl, to lead +this colorless kind of an existence forever." + +She looked at him pleadingly out of her beautiful eyes. "Mr. David, +you would not be intentionally cruel to me, I know, so don't speak to +me of these things. It only distresses _me_--and can do you no good." + +"Forgive me, Anna, I would not hurt you for the world--but you must +know that I love you. Don't you think you could ever grow to care for +me?" + +"Mr. David, I shall never marry any one. Do not ask me to explain, and +I beg of you, if you have a feeling of even ordinary kindness for me. +that you will never mention this subject to me again. You remember how +I promised your father that if he would let me make my home with you, +he should never live to regret it? Do you think that I intend to repay +the dearest wish of his heart in this way? Why, Mr. David, you are +engaged to marry Kate." She took up the water-pail to go. + +"Kate's one of the best girls alive, but I feel toward her like a +brother. Besides, Anna, what have you been doing with those big brown +eyes of yours? Don't you see that Kate and Lennox Sanderson are head +over heels in love with each other?" + +The pail of water slipped from Anna's hand and sent a flood over +David's boots. + +"No, no--anything but that! You don't know what you are saying!" + +Dave looked at her in absolute amazement. He had no chance to reply. +As if in answer to his remark, there came through the outer gate, Kate +and Sanderson arm in arm. They had been gathering golden-rod, and +their arms were full of the glory of autumn. + +There was a certain assumption of proprietary right in the way that +Sanderson assisted Kate with the golden-rod that Anna recognized. She +knew it, and falseness of it burned through, her like so much corrosive +acid. She stood with the upturned pail at her feet, unable to recover +her composure, her bosom heaving high, her eyes dilating. She stood +there, wild as a startled panther, uncertain whether to fight or fly. + +"You don't know what a good time we've been having," Kate called out. + +"You see, Anna dear, I was right," David said to her. + +But Anna did not answer. Sorrow had broken her on its wheel. Where +was the justice of it? Why should he go forth to seek his +happiness--and find it--and she cower in shame through all the years to +come? + +Dave saw that she had forgotten his presence; she stood there in the +gathering night with wild, unseeing eyes. Memory had turned back the +hands of the clock till it pointed out that fatal hour on another +golden afternoon in autumn, and Sanderson, the hero of the hour, had +come to her with the marks of battle still upon him, and as the crowd +gave away for him, right and left, he had said: "I could not help +winning with your eyes on me." + +Oh, the lying dishonor of it! It was not jealousy that prompted her, +for a moment, to go to Kate and tell her all. What right had such +vultures as he to be received, smiled upon, courted, caressed? If +there was justice on earth, his sin should have been branded on him, +that other women might take warning. + +Dave knew that her thoughts had flown miles wide of him, and his +unselfishness told him that it would be kindness to go into the house +and leave her to herself, which he did with a heavy heart and many +misgivings. + +Hi Holler had none of Dave's sensitiveness. He saw Anna standing by +the gate, and being a loquacious soul, who saw no advantage in silence, +if there was a fellow creature to talk to; he came up grinning: "Say, +Anna, I wonder if me and you was both thinkin' about the same thing--I +was thinkin' as I seen Sanderson and Kate passing that I certainly +would enjoy a piece o' weddin' cake, don't care whose it was." + +"No, Hi," Anna said, being careful to restrain any bitterness of tone, +"I certainly was not wishing for a wedding cake." + +"I certainly do like wedding cake, Anna, but then, I like everything to +eat. Some folks don't like one thing, some folks don't like another. +Difference between them an' me is, I like everything." + +Anna laughed in spite of herself. + +"Yes, since I like everything, and I like it all the time, why, I ain't +more than swallowed the last buckwheat for breakfast, than I am ready +for dinner. You don't s'pose I'm sick or anything, do you, Anna?" + +"I don't think the symptoms sound alarming, Hi." + +"Well, you take a load off my mind, Anna, cause I was getting scared +about myself." Seeing the empty water-pail, Hi refilled it and carried +it in the house for Anna. Dave was not the only one in that household +who was miserable, owing to Cupid's unaccountable antics. Professor +Sterling, the well-paying summer boarder, continued to remain with the +Bartletts, though summer, the happy season during which the rustic may +square his grudge with the city man within his gates, had long since +passed. + +The professor had spared enough time from his bugs and beetles to +notice how blue Kate's eyes were, and how luxurious her hair; then he +had also, with some misgivings, regarded his own in the mirror, with +the unassuring result that his hair was thinning on top and his eyes +looked old through his gold-bowed spectacles. + +The discovery did not meet with the indifference one might have +expected on the part of the conscientious entomologist. He fell even +to the depths of reading hair-restoring circulars and he spent +considerable time debating whether he should change his spectacles for +a pince-nez. + +The spectacles, however, continued to do their work nobly for the +professor, not only assisting him to make his scientific observations +on the habits of a potato-bug in captivity, but showing him with far +more clearness that Kate Brewster and Lennox Sanderson contrived to +spend a great deal of time in each other's society, and that both +seemed to enjoy the time thus spent. + +The professor went back to his beetles, but they palled. The most +gorgeous butterfly ever constructed had not one-tenth the charm for him +that was contained in a glance of Kate Brewster's eyes, or a glimpse of +her golden head as she flitted about the house. And so the autumn +waned. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE QUALITY OF MERCY + + + "Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see; + That mercy I to others show, + That mercy show to me."--_Pope_. + + +Sanderson, during his visits to the Bartlett farm--and they became more +frequent as time went on--would look at Anna with cold curiosity, not +unmixed with contempt, when by chance they happened to be alone for a +moment. But the girl never displayed by so much as the quiver of an +eye-lash that she had ever seen him before. + +Had Lennox Sanderson been capable of fathoming Anna Moore, or even of +reading her present marble look or tone, he would have seen that he had +little to apprehend from her beyond contempt, a thing he would not in +the least have minded; but he was cunning, and like the cunning +shallow. So he began to formulate plans for making things even with +Anna--in other words, buying her off. + +His admiration for Kate deepened in proportion as the square of that +young woman's reserve increased. She was not only the first woman who +refused to burn incense at his shrine, but also the first who frankly +admitted that she found him amusing. She mildly guyed his accent, his +manner of talking, his London clothes, his way of looking at things. +Never having lived near a university town, she escaped the traditional +hero worship. It was a new sensation for Sanderson, and eventually he +succumbed to it. + +"You know, Miss Kate," he said one day, "you are positively the most +refreshing girl I have ever met. You don't know how much I love you." + +Kate considered for a moment. There was a hint of patronage, it seemed +to her, in his compliment, that she did not care for. + +"Oh, consider the debt cancelled, Mr. Sanderson. You have not found my +rustic simplicity any more refreshing than I have found your poster +waistcoats." + +"Why do you persist is misunderstanding and hurting me?" + +"I apologize to your waistcoats, Mr. Sanderson. I have long considered +them the substitute for your better nature." + +"Better natures and that sort of thing have rather gone out of style, +haven't they?" + +"They are always out of style with people who never had them." + +"Is this quarreling, Kate, or making love?" + +"Oh, let's make it quarreling, Mr. Sanderson. And now about that horse +you lent me. That's a vile bit you've got on him." And the +conversation turned to other things, as it always did when he tried to +be sentimental with Kate. Sometimes he thought it was not the girl, +but her resistance, that he admired so much. + +Things in the Bartlett household were getting a bit uneasy. The Squire +chafed that his cherished project of Kate and Dave's marrying seemed no +nearer realization now than it had been two years ago. + +Dave's equable temper vanished under the strain and uncertainty +regarding Anna Moore's silence and apparent indifference to him. He +would have believed her before all the world; her side of the story was +the only version for him; but Anna did not see fit to break her +silence. When he would approach her on the subject she would only say: + +"Mr. David, your father employs me as a servant. I try to do my work +faithfully, but my past life concerns no one but myself." + +And Dave, fearing that she might leave them, if he continued to force +his attentions on her, held his peace. The thought of losing even the +sight of her about the house wrung his heart. He could not bear to +contemplate the long winter days uncheered by her gentle presence. + +It was nearly Thanksgiving. The first snow had come and covered up +everything that was bare and unsightly in the landscape with its +beautiful mantle of white, and Anna, sitting by the window, dropped the +stocking she was darning to press the bitter tears back to her eyes. + +The snow had but one thought for her. She saw it falling, falling soft +and feathery on a baby's grave in the Episcopal Cemetery at Somerville. +She shivered; it was as if the flakes were falling on her own warm +flesh. + +If she could but go to that little grave and lie down among the +feathery flakes and forget it all, it would be so much easier than this +eternal struggle to live. What had life in store for her? There was +the daily drudgery, years and years of it, and always the crushing +knowledge of injustice. + +She knew how it would be. Scandal would track her down--put a price on +her head; these people who had given her a home would hear, and what +would all her months of faithful service avail? + +"Is this true?" she already heard the Squire say in imagination, and +she should have to answer: "Yes"--and there would be the open door and +the finger pointing to her to go. + +She heard the Squire's familiar step on the stair; unconsciously, she +crouched lower; had he come to tell her to go? + +But the Squire came in whistling, a picture of homely contentment, +hands in pocket, smiling jovially. She knew there must be no telltale +tears on her cheeks, even if her heart was crying out in the cold and +snow. She knew the bitterness of being denied the comfort of tears. +It was but one of the hideous train of horrors that pursued a woman in +her position. + +She forced them back and met the Squire with a smile that was all the +sweeter for the effort. + +"Here's your chair, Squire, all ready waiting for you, and the only +thing you want to make you perfectly happy--is--guess?" She held out +his old corncob pipe, filled to perfection. + +"I declare, Anna, you are just spoiling me, and some day you'll be +going off and getting married to some of these young fellows 'round +here, and where will I be then?" + +"You need have no fears on that score," she said, struggling to +maintain a smile. + +"Well, well, that's what girls always say, but I don't know what we'll +do without you. How long have you been with us, now?" + +"Let me see," counting on her fingers: "just six months." + +"So it is, my dear. Well, I hope it will be six years before you think +of leaving us. And, Anna, while we are talking, I like to say to you +that I have felt pretty mean more than once about the way I treated you +that first day you come." + +"Pray, do not mention it, Squire. Your kindness since has quite made +me forget that you hesitated to take an utter stranger into your +household." + +"That was it, my dear--an utter stranger--and you cannot really blame +me; here was Looizy and Kate and I was asked to take into the house +with them a young woman whom I had never set eyes on before; it seemed +to me a trifle risky, but you've proved that I was wrong, my dear, and +I'll admit it." + +The girl dropped the stocking she was mending; her trembling hand +refused to support even the pretense of work. Outside the snow was +falling just as it was falling, perhaps, on the little grave where all +her youth and hope were buried. + +The thought gave her courage to speak, though the pale lips struggled +pitifully to frame the words. + +"Squire, suppose that when I came to you that day last June you had +been right--I am only saying this for the sake of argument, Squire--but +suppose that I had been a deceived girl, that I had come here to begin +all over again; to live down the injustice, the scandal and all the +other things that unfortunate woman have to live down, would you still +have felt the same?" + +"Why, Anna, I never heard you talk like this before; of course I should +have felt the same; if a commandment is broke, it's broke; nothing can +alter that, can it?" + +"But, Squire, is there no mercy, no chance held out to the woman who +has been unfortunate?" + +"Anna, these arguments don't sound well from a proper behaving young +woman like you. I know it's the fashion nowadays for good women to +talk about mercy to their fallen sisters, but it's a mistake. When a +woman falls, she loses her right to respect, and that's the end of it." + +She turned her face to the storm and the softly falling flakes were no +whiter than her face. + +As Anna turned to leave the room on some pretext, she saw Kate coming +in with a huge bunch of Jacqueminot roses in her hand. Of course, +Sanderson had sent them. The perfume of them sickened Anna, as the +odor of a charnel house might have done. She tried to smile bravely +at Kate, who smiled back triumphantly as she went in to show her uncle +the flowers. But the sight of them was like the turning of a knife in +a festering wound. + +Anna made her way to the kitchen. Dave was sitting there smoking. +Anna found strength and sustenance in his mere presence, though she did +not say a word to him, but he was such a faithful soul. Good, honest +Dave. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE VILLAGE GOSSIP SNIFFS SCANDAL. + + + "Flavia, most tender of her own good name, + Is rather careless of her sister's fame! + Her superfluity the poor supplies, + But if she touch a character it dies."--_Cowper_. + + +It was characteristic of Marthy Perkins and her continual pursuit of +pleasure, that she should wade through snowdrifts to Squire Bartlett's +and ask for a lift in his sleigh. The Squire's family were going to a +surprise party to be given to one of the neighbor's, and Marthy was as +determined about going as a debutante. + +She came in, covered with snow, hooded, shawled and coated till she +resembled a huge cocoon. The Squire placed a big armchair for her near +the fire, and Marshy sat down, but not without disdaining Anna's offers +to remove her wraps. She sniffed at Anna--no other word will express +it--and savagely clutched her big old-fashioned muff when Anna would +have taken it from her to dry it of the snow. + +The sleighbells jingled merrily as the different parties drove by, +singing, whistling, laughing, on their way to the party. The church +choir, snugly installed in "Doc" Wiggins' sleigh, stopped at the +Squire's to "thaw out," and try a step or two; Rube Whipple, the town +constable, giving them his famous song, "All Bound 'Round with a Woolen +String." + +Rube was, as usual, the pivot around which the merry-making centered. +A few nights before, burglars had broken into the postoffice and +carried off the stamps, and the town constable was, as usual, the last +one to hear of it. On the night in question, he had spent the evening +at the corner grocery store with a couple of his old pals, the stove +answering the purpose of a rather large bulls-eye, at which they +expectorated, with conscientious regularity, from time to time. Seth +Holcomb, Marthy Perkins' faithful swain, had been of the corner grocery +party. + +"Well, Constable, hear you and Seth helped keep the stove warm the +other night, while thieves walked off with the postoffice," Marthy +announced; "what I'd like to know is, how much bitters, rheumatism +bitters, you had during the evening?" + +"Well, Marthy Perkins, you ought to be the last to throw it up to Seth +that he's obliged to spend his evenings round a corner grocery--that's +adding insult to injury." + +"Insult to injury I reckon can stand, Rube; it's when you add Seth's +bitters that it staggers." + +But Seth, who never minded Marthy's stings and jibes, only remarked: +"The recipy for them bitters was given to me by a blame good doctor." + +"That cuts you out, Wiggins," the Squire said playfully. + +"No, I don't care about standing father to Seth's bitters," "Doc" +Wiggins remarked, "but I've tasted worse stuff on a cold night." + +"Oh, Seth ain't pertickler about the temperature, when he takes a dose +of bitters. Hot or cold, it's all the same to him," finished Marthy. + +Seth took the opportunity to whisper to her: "You're going to sit next +to me in 'Doc' Wiggins' sleigh to-night, ain't you, Marthy?" + +"Indeed I ain't," said the spinster, scornfully tossing her head, "my +place will have to be filled by the bitters-bottle; I am going with the +Squire and Mrs. Bartlett." + +"Doc" Wiggins' party left in high good humor, the Squire and his party +promising to follow immediately. Anna ran upstairs to get Mrs. +Bartlett's bonnet and cloak, and Marthy, with a great air of mystery, +got up, and, carefully closing the door after the girl, turned to the +Squire and his wife with: + +"I've come to tell you something about her." + +"Something about Anna?" said the Squire indignantly. + +"Oh, no, not about our Anna," protested Mrs. Bartlett: "Why, she is the +best kind of a girl; we are all devoted to her." + +"That's just the saddest part of it, I says to myself when I heard. +How can I ever make up my mind to tell them pore, dear Bartletts, who +took her in, and has been treating her like one of their own family +ever since? It will come hard on, them, I sez, but that ought not to +deter me from my duty." + +"Look here, Marthy," thundered the Squire, "if you've got anything to +say about that girl, out with it----" + +"Well, land sake--you needn't be so touchy; she ain't kin to you, and +you might thank your lucky stars she ain't." + +"Well, what is it, Marthy?" interposed Mrs. Bartlett. "Anna'll be down +in a minute." + +"Well, you know, I have been sewin' down to Warren Center this last +week, and Maria Thomson, from Belden, was visiting there, and naturally +we all got to talking 'bout folks up this way, and that girl Anna +Moore's name was mentioned, and I'm blest if Maria Thomson didn't +recognize her from my description. + +"I was telling them 'bout the way she came here last June, pale as a +ghost, and how she said her mother had just died and she'd been sick, +and they knew right off who she was." + +Marthy loved few things as she did an interested audience. It was her +meat and drink. + +"Well, she didn't call herself Moore in Belden, though that was her +mother's name--she called herself Lennox," Marthy grinned. "She was +one of those married ladies who forgot their wedding rings." + +The Squire knit his brows and his jaws came together with a snap; there +were tears in Mrs. Bartlett's eyes. The gossip looked from one to the +other to see the impression her words were making. + +It spurred her on to new efforts. She positively rolled the words +about in delight before she could utter them. + +"Well, the girl's mother, who had been looking worried out of her skin, +took sick and died all of a sudden, and the girl took sick herself very +soon afterwards--and what do you think? A girl baby was born to Mrs. +Lennox, but her husband never came near her. Fortunately, the baby did +not live to embarrass her. It died, and she packed up and left Belden. +That's when she came here. + +"And now," continued the village inquisitor, summing up her terrible +evidence, "what are we to think of a girl called Miss Moore in one town +and Mrs. Lennox in the other, with no sign of a wedding ring and no +sign of a husband? And what are we going to think of that baby? It +seems to me scandalous." And she leaned back in her chair and rocked +furiously. + +[Illustration: Martha Perkins tells the story of Anna Moore's past +life.] + +The Squire brought his hand down or the table with terrible force, his +pleasant face, was distorted with rage and indignation. + +"Just what I always said would come of taking in strange creatures that +we knew nothing about. Do you think that I will have a creature like +that in my house with my wife and my niece, polluting them with her +very presence?--out she goes this minute!" + +He strode over to the door through which Anna had passed a few moments +before, he flung it open and was about to call when he felt his wife +cling frantically to his arm. + +"Father, don't do anything in anger that you'll repent of later. How +do you know this is true? Look how well the girl has acted since she +has been here"--and in a lower voice, "you know that Marthy's given to +talking." + +The hand on the knob relaxed, a kindly light replaced the anger in his +eyes. + +"You are right, Looizy, what we've heard is only hearsay, I'll not say +a word to the girl till I know; but to-morrow I am going to Belden and +find out the whole story from beginning to end." + +Kate and the professor came in laden with wraps, laughing and talking +in great glee. Kate was going to ride in the sleigh with the +professor, and the discovery of a new species of potato-bug could not +have delighted him more. He was in a most gallant mood, and concluding +that this was the opportunity for making himself agreeable, he +undertook to put on Kate's rubbers over her dainty dancing slippers. + +Perhaps it was a glimpse of the cobwebby black silk stocking that +ensnared his wits, perhaps it was the delight of kneeling to Kate even +in this humble capacity. In either case, the result was equally +grotesque; Kate found her dainty feet neatly enclosed in the +professor's ungainly arctics, while he hopelessly contemplated her +overshoe and the size of his own foot. + +Anna returned with Mrs. Bartlett's bonnet and cloak before the laugh at +the professor had subsided. She adjusted the cloak, tied Mrs. +Bartlett's bonnet strings with daughterly care and then turned to look +after the Squire's comfort, but he strode past her to the sleigh with +Marthy. Kate and the professor called on a cheery "Good-night," but +Mrs. Bartlett remained long enough to take the pretty, sorrowful face +in her hands and give it a sweet, motherly kiss. + +When the jingling of the sleighbells died away across the snow, Hi +offered to read jokes to Anna from "Pickings from Puck," which he had +selected as a Christmas present from Kate, if she would consent to have +supper in the sitting-room, where it was warm and cosy. Anna began to +pop the corn, and Hi to read the jokes with more effort than he would +have expended on the sawing of a cord of wood. + +He bit into an apple. An expression of perfect contentment illuminated +his countenance and in a voice husky with fruit began: "Oh, here is a +lovely one, Anna," and he declaimed, after the style usually employed +by students of the first reader. + +"Weary Raggles: 'Say, Ragsy, w'y don't you ask 'em for something to eat +in dat house. Is you afraid of de dog?'" + +"Ragsy Reagan: 'No, I a-i-n-t 'fraid of the dog, but me pants is frayed +of him.'" + +"Ha, ha, ha--say, Anna, that's the funniest thing I ever did see. The +tramp wasn't frayed of him, but his pants was 'fraid of him. Gee, +ain't that a funny joke? And say, Anna, there's a picture with his +clothes all torn." + +Hi was fairly convulsed; he read till the tears rolled down his cheeks. +"'Pickin's from Puck, the funniest book ever wrote.' Here's another, +Anna." + +"'A p-o-o-r old man was sunstruck on Broadway this morning. His son +struck him for five dollars.'" Hi sat pondering over it for a full +minute, then he burst into a loud guffaw that continued so long and +uproariously that neither heard the continued rapping on the front door. + +"Hi, some one is knocking on the front door. Do go and see who it is." + +"O! let 'em knock, Anna; don't let's break up our party for strangers." + +"Well, Hi, I'll have to go myself," and she laid down the corn-popper, +but the boy got up grumbling, lurched to the door and let in Lennox +Sanderson. + +"'Tain't nobody at home, Mr. Sanderson," said Hi, inhospitably blocking +the way. Anna had crouched over the fire, as if to obliterate herself. + +"Here, Hi, you take this and go out and hold my horse; he's mettlesome +as the deuce this cold weather. I want to get warm before I go to +Putnam's." + +Hi put on his muffler, mits and cap--each with a favorite "swear word," +such as "ding it," "dum it," "darn it." Nevertheless he wisely +concluded to take the half dollar from him and save it for the spring +crop of circuses. + +Anna started to leave the room, but Sanderson's peremptory "Stay here, +I've got to talk to you," detained her. + +They looked into each other's faces--these two, who but a few short +months ago had been all in all to each other--and the dead fire was not +colder than their looks. + +"Well, Anna," he said sneeringly, "what's your game? You've been +hanging about here ever since I came to the neighborhood. How much do +you want to go away?" + +"Nothing that you could give me, Lennox Sanderson. My only wish is +that I might be spared the sight of you." + +"Don't beat around the bush, Anna; is it money, or what? You are not +foolish enough to try to compel me to marry you?" + +"Nothing could be further from my mind. I did think once of compelling +you to right the wrong you have done me, but that is past. It is +buried in the grave with my child." + +"Then the child is dead?" He came over to the fireplace where she +stood, but she drew away from him. + +"You have nothing to fear from me, Lennox Sanderson. The love I felt +once is dead, and I have no feeling for you now but contempt." + +"You need not rub it in like that, Anna. I was perfectly willing to do +the square thing by you always, but you flared up, went away, and +Heaven only knew what became of you. It's bad enough to have things +made unpleasant for me in Boston on your account without having you +queering my plans here." + +"Boston--I never told anyone in Boston." + +"No, but that row got into the papers about Langdon and the Tremonts +cut me." + +"Hush," said Anna, as a spasm of pain crossed her face: "I never wish +you to refer to my past life again." + +"Indeed, Anna, I am only too anxious to do the right thing by you, even +now. If you will go away, I will give you what you want, if you don't +intend to interfere between Kate and me." + +"Are you sure that Kate is in earnest? You know that the Squire +intends her to marry Dave." + +"I shall have no difficulty in preventing that if you don't interfere." + +She did not answer. She was again considering the same old question +that she had thrashed out a thousand times--should she tell Kate? How +would she take it? Would the tragedy of her life be regarded as a +little wild-oat sowing on the part of Sanderson and her own eternal +disgrace? + +The man was in no humor for her silence. He grasped her roughly by the +arm, and his voice was raised loud in angry protest. "Tell me--do you, +or do you not intend to interfere?" + +In the excitement of the moment neither heard the outer door open, and +neither heard David enter. He stood in his quiet way, looking from one +to the other. Sanderson's angry question died away in some foolish +commonplace, but David had heard and Anna and Sanderson knew it. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +DAVID CONFESSES HIS LOVE. + + + "Come live with me and be my love; + And we will all the pleasures prove + That hills and valleys, dales and fields, + Woods, or steep mountains, yield."--_Marlowe_. + + +Sanderson, recovering his self-possession almost immediately, drawled +out: + +"Glad to see you, Dave. Came over thinking I might be in time to go +over to Putnam's with your people. They had gone, so I stopped long +enough to get warm. I must be going now. Good-night, Miss--Miss"--(he +seemed, to have great difficulty in recalling the name) "Moore." + +David paid no attention to him; his eyes were riveted on Anna, who had +changed color and was now like ivory flushing into life. She trembled +and fell to her knees, making a pretense of gathering up her knitting +that had fallen. + +"What brought Sanderson here, Anna? Is he anything to you--are you +anything to him?" + +She tried to assume a playful lightness, but it failed dismally. It +was all her pallid lips could do to frame the words: "Why, Mr. David, +what a curious question! What possible interest could the 'catch' of +the neighborhood have in your father's servant?" + +The suggestion of flippancy that her words contained irritated the +grave, quiet man as few things could have done. He turned from her and +would have left the room, but she detained him. + +"I am sorry I wounded you, Mr. David, but, indeed, you have no right to +ask." + +"I know it, Anna, and you won't give me the right; but how dared that +cub Sanderson speak to you in that way?" He caught her hand, and +unconsciously wrung it till she cried out in pain. "Forgive me, dear, +I would not hurt you for the world; but that man's manner toward you +makes me wild." + +She looked up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes; he thought her +eyes were like the glow of forest fires burning through brushwood. "We +will never think of him again, Mr. David. I assure you that I am no +more to Mr. Sanderson than he is to me, and that is--nothing." + +"Thank you for those words, Anna. I cannot tell you how happy they +make me. But I do not understand you at all. Even a countryman like +me can see that you have never been used to our rough way of living; +you were never born to this kind of thing, and yet when that man +Sanderson looks at you or talks to you, there is always an undertone of +contempt in his look, his words." + +She sank wearily into an armchair. It seemed to her that her limit of +endurance had been reached, but he, taking her silence for +acquiescence, lost no time in following up what he fondly hoped might +be an advantage. "I did not go to the Putnams to-night, Anna, because +you were not going, and there is no enjoyment for me when you are not +there." + +"Mr. David, if you continue to talk to me like this I shall have to +leave this house." + +"Tell me, Anna," he said so gravely that the woman beside him knew that +life and death were balanced with her words: "tell me, when you said +that day last autumn by the well that you never intended to marry, was +it just a girl's coquetry or was there some deeper reason for your +saying so?" + +She could not face the love in those honest eyes and answer as her +conscience prompted. She was tired, so tired of the struggle, what +would she not have given to rest here in the shelter of this perfect +love and trust, but it was not for her. + +"Mr. David," she said, looking straight before her with wide, unseeing +eyes; "I can be no man's wife." + +He knew from the lines of suffering written deep on the pale young +face, that maiden coquetry had not inspired her to speak thus; but word +for word, it had been wrung from out of the depths of a troubled soul. + +"Anna!" cried David, in mingled astonishment and pain. But Anna only +turned mutely toward him with an imploring look. She stretched out her +hands to him, as if trying to tell him more. But words failed her. +Her tears overcame her and she fled, sobbing, to her room. All the way +up the winding night of stairs, David could hear her anguished moans. +He would have followed her, but Hi burst into the room, stamping the +snow from his boots. He shoved in the front door as if he had been an +invading army. He unwound his muffler and cast it from him as if he +had a grudge against it, as he proceeded to deliver himself of his +wrongs. + +"If there's any more visitors coming to the house to-night that wants +their horses held, they can do it themselves, for I am going to have my +supper." David made no reply, but went to his own room to brood over +the day's events. And so Anna was spared any further talk with David +that night; a circumstance for which she was devoutly thankful. + +The next day the snow was deeper by a foot, but this did not deter the +Squire from making his proposed trip to Belden. He started immediately +after breakfast, prepared to sift matters to the bottom. + +An air of tension and anxiety pervaded the household all that long, +miserable day. Anna was tortured with doubts. Should she slip away +quietly without telling, or should she make her humiliating confession +to Kate? Mrs. Bartlett, who knew the object of her husband's errand, +could not control her nerves. She knew intuitively "that something was +going to happen," as the good soul put it to herself. + +Altogether it was one of those nerve-wracking days that come from time +to time in the best regulated households, apparently for no other +purpose but to prove the fact that a solitary existence is not +necessarily the most unhappy. + +Mrs. Bartlett, for the first time in her life, was worried about Dave. +He was moody and morose, even to her, his sworn friend and ally, with +whom he had never had a word's difference. He had gone off that +morning shortly after the Squire left the house; and his mother, +watching him carefully at breakfast, noticed that he had shoved away +his plate with the food untasted. + +A fatal symptom to the ever-watchful maternal eye. + +Kate felt sulky because her aunt and uncle had been urging her to marry +Dave, and apparently Dave had no affection for her beyond that of a +cousin, the situation irritating her in the extreme. + +"Aunt Louisa, what is the matter with every one?" she said, flouncing +into the kitchen. "Something seems to have jarred the family nerves. +Here is uncle off on some mysterious business, Dave goes off in the +snow in a tantrum, and you look as if you had just buried your last +friend." And the young lady left the room as suddenly as she entered +it. + +"It does feel as if trouble was brewing," Mrs. Bartlett admitted to +Anna, with a gloomy shake of the head. "I'm getting that worried about +Dave, he's been away all day, and it's not usual for him to stay away +like this." Her voice broke a little, and she left the room hurriedly. + +He came in almost immediately, stamping the snow from his boots and +looking twice as savage as when he went away. + +"Mrs. Bartlett had been worrying about you all day, Mr. David," Anna +said as she turned from the dresser with her arms full of plates. + +"And did you care, Anna, that I was not here?" He gave her the +appealing glance of a great mastiff who hopes for a friendly pat on the +head. + +"My feelings on the subject can be of no interest to you," she answered +with chilling decision. + +"All right," and he went to the hat-rack to get his muffler and cap, +preparatory to again facing the storm. + +The snow had been falling steadily all day. Drifting almost to the +height of the kitchen window, it whirled about the house and beat +against the window panes with a muffled sound that was inexpressibly +dreary to the girl, who felt herself the center of all this pitiful +human contention. + +"David, David; where have you been all day, and where are you going +now?" His mother looked at his gray, haggard face and tried to guess +his hidden trouble, the first he had ever kept from her. + +"Mother, I am not a child, and you can't expect me to hang about the +stove like a cat, all my life." It was his first harsh word to her and +she shrank before it as if it had been a blow. David, her boy, to +speak to her like that! She turned quickly away to hide the tears, the +first she had ever shed on his account. + +"Here, Anna," she said, struggling to recover her composure, "take this +bucket and get it filled for me, please." + +The girl reached for her cloak that hung on a peg near the door. + +"No, Anna, you shall not go out for water a night like this; it's not +the work for you to do." David had sprung forward and caught the +bucket from her hand and plunged with it into the storm. Kate's quick +eyes caught the expression of David's face--while Mrs. Bartlett only +heard his words. She gave Anna a searching look as she said: "So it is +you whom David loves." At last Kate understood the secret of Anna's +distracted face--and at last the mother understood the secret of her +boy's moodiness--he loved Anna. And her heart was filled with +bitterness and anger at the very thought; she had taken her boy, this +stranger, with whom the tongue of scandal was busy. The kindly, +gentle, old face lost all its sweetness; jealous anger filled it with +ugly lines. Turning to Anna she said: + +"It would have been better for all of us if we had not taken you in +that day to break up our home with your mischief." + +Anna was cut to the quick. "Oh, Mrs. Bartlett, please do not say that; +I will go away as soon as you like, but it is not with my consent that +David has these foolish fancies about me." + +"And do you mean to say that you have never encouraged him," +indignantly demanded the irate mother, who with true feminine +inconsistency would not have her boy's affections go begging, even +while she scorned the object of it. + +"Encouraged him? I have begged, entreated him to let me alone; I do +not want his love." + +An angry sparrow defending her brood could not have been more +indignantly demonstrative than this gentle old lady. + +"And isn't he good enough for you, Miss?" she asked in a voice that +shook with wrath. + +"Dear Mrs. Bartlett, would you have me take his love and return it?" + +"No, no; that would never do!" and the inconsistent old soul rocked +herself to and fro in an agony of despair. + +Anna did not resent Mrs. Bartlett's indignation, unjust though it was; +she knew how blind good mothers could be when the happiness of their +children is at stake. She felt only pity for her and remembered only +her kindness. So slipping down on her knees beside the old lady's +chair, she took the toil-worn old hands in her own and said: + +"Do not think hardly of me, Mrs. Bartlett. You have been so good--and +when I am gone, I want you to think of me with affection. I will go +away, and all this trouble will straighten itself out, and you will +forget that I ever caused you a moment's pain." + +Dave came in with the bucket of water that had caused the little squall +and prevented his mother from replying, but the hard lines had relaxed +in the good old face. She was again "mother" whom they all knew and +loved. Sanderson followed close after David; he had just come from +Boston, he said, and inquired for Kate with a simple directness that +left no doubt as to whom he had come to see. + +It is an indisputable law of the eternal feminine for all women to +flaunt a conquest in the face of the man who had declined their +affection. Kate was not in love with her cousin David, but she was +devoutly thankful to Providence that there was a Lennox Sanderson to +flaunt before him in the capacity of tame cat, and prove that he "was +not the only man in the world," as she put it to herself. + +Therefore when Lennox Sanderson handed her a magnificent bunch of +Jacqueminot roses that he had brought her from Boston, Kate was not at +all backward in rewarding Sanderson with her graciousness. + +"How beautiful they are, Mr. Sanderson; it was so good of you." + +"You make me very happy by taking them," he answered with a wealth of +meaning. + +Anna, who had gone to the storeroom for some apples, after her +reconciliation with Mrs. Bartlett, returned to find Sanderson talking +earnestly to Kate by the window. Kate held up the roses for Anna to +smell. "Aren't they lovely, Anna? There is nothing like roses for +taking the edge off a snowstorm." + +Anna was forced to go through the farce of admiring them, while +Sanderson looked on with nicely concealed amusement. + +"Well, what do you think of them, Anna?" said Kate, disappointed that +she made no comment. + +"The best thing about roses, speaking generally, Miss Kate, is that +they fade quickly and do not embarrass one by outliving the little +affairs in which they have played a part." She returned Sanderson's +languid glance in a way that made him quail. + +"That is quite true," said Kate, being in the humor for a little +cynicism. "What a pity that love letters can't be constructed on the +same principle." + +Sanderson did not feel particularly at ease while these two young women +served and returned cynicism; he was accordingly much relieved when +Mrs. Bartlett and Anna both left the room, intent on the solemn +ceremony of opening a new supply of preserved peaches. + +"Kate, did you mean what you just said to that girl?" Sanderson asked +when they were alone. + +"What did I say? Oh, yes, about the love letters. Well, what +difference does it make whether I meant it or not?" + +"It makes all the difference in the world to me, Kate." He read +refusal in the big blue eyes, and he made haste to plead his cause +before she could say anything. + +"Don't answer yet, Kate; don't give me my life-sentence," he said +playfully, taking her hand. "Think it over; take as long as you like. +Hope with you is better than certainty with any other woman." + +[Illustration: Lillian Gish and Burr McIntosh.] + +Professor Sterling, who had been to a neighboring town on business for +the past two or three days, walked into the middle of this little +tableau in time to hear the last sentence. Kate and Sanderson had +failed to hear him, partly because he had neglected to remove his +overshoes, and partly because they were deeply engrossed with each +other. + +Though his rival's declaration, which he had every reason to suppose +would be accepted, was the death blow to his hopes, yet he unselfishly +stepped out into the snow, waited five minutes by his watch--a liberal +allowance for an acceptance, he considered--and then rapped loud and +theatrically before entering a second time. Could unselfishness go +further? + +Kate and Sanderson had no other opportunity for confidential talk that +evening. + +They were barely seated about the supper table, when there came a +tremendous rapping at the door, and Marthy Perkins came in, half +frozen. For once her voluble tongue was silenced. She retailed no +gossip while submitting to the friendly ministrations of Mrs. Bartlett +and Anna, who chafed her hands, gave her hot tea and thawed her back to +life--and gossip. + +"Is the Squire back yet?" asked Marthy with returning warmth. "Land +sakes, what can be keeping him? Heard him say last night that he +intended going away this morning, and thought he might have come back." + +"With news?" naively asked Sanderson. + +"Why, yes. I did think it was likely that he might have gathered up +something interesting, away a whole day." Every one laughed but Mrs. +Bartlett. She alone knew the object of her husband's quest. + +"Your father's not likely to be back to-night--do you think so, Dave?" +she asked her son, more by way of drawing him out than in the hope of +getting any real information. + +"No, I do not think it is likely, mother," he answered. + +"Good land! and I nearly froze to death getting here!" Marthy said in +an aside to Mrs. Bartlett. "I tell you, Looizy, there is nothing like +suspense for wearing you out. I couldn't get a lick of sewing done +to-day, waiting for Amasy to get in with the news." + +"Hallo! hallo! Let us in quick--here we are, me and the Squire--most +froze! Hallo, hallo"--The rest of Hi's remarks were a series of whoops. + +Every one rose from the table, Mrs. Bartlett pale with apprehension. +Marthy flushed with delight. She was not to be balked of her prey. +The Squire was here with the news. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +ALONE IN THE SNOW. + + + "The cold winds swept the mountain-height, + And pathless was the dreary wild, + And mid the cheerless hours of night + A mother wandered with her child: + As through the drifting snows she pressed, + The babe was sleeping on her breast."--_Seba Smith_. + + +The head of the house was home from his mysterious errand, the real +object of which was unknown to all but Marthy and his wife. + +Kate unwound his muffler and took his cap; his wife assured him that +she had been worried to death about him all day; the men inquired +solicitously about his journey--how had he stood the cold--and Anna +made ready his place at the table. But neither this domestic adulation +nor the atmosphere of warmth and affection awaiting him at his own +fireside served for a moment to turn him from the wanton brutality that +he was pleased to dignify by the name of duty. + +Anna could not help feeling the "snub," and David, whose eyes always +followed Anna, saw it before the others. "Father," said he, "what's +the matter, you don't speak to Anna." + +"I don't want to speak to her. I don't want to look at her. I don't +want anything to do with her," replied the Squire. Every one except +Martha and Mrs. Bartlett was startled by this blunt, almost brutal +outburst. + +"I am glad you are all here, the more the better: Marthy, Professor, +Mr. Sanderson, glad to see you and all the home folks"--he had a word, +a nod, a pat on the back for every one but Anna, and though she sought +more than one opportunity to speak to him, he deliberately avoided her. + +His wife, who knew all the varying weathers of his temper was using all +her small stock of diplomacy to get him to eat his supper. "When in +doubt about a man, feed him," had been Louisa Bartlett's unfailing rule +for the last thirty years. "Here, Amasy, sit down in your place that +Anna has fixed for you. You can talk after you've had your tea. Anna, +please make the Squire some fresh tea. I'm afraid this is a little +cool." + +"She need not make my tea, now, or on any future occasion--her days of +service in my family are done for." And he hammered the table with his +clenched fist. + +Anna closed her eyes; it had come at last; she had always known that it +was only a question of time. + +The rest looked at the Squire dumbfounded. Ah, that is, but Marthy. +She was licking her lips in delightful anticipation--with much the same +expression as a cat would regard an uncaged canary. + +"Why, father, what do you mean?" asked David in amazement. He had +heard no rumor of why his father had gone to Belden. + +"Now, listen, all of you," and again he thundered on the table with his +fist. "Last summer I was persuaded, against my will, to take a strange +woman into my house. I found out to-day that my judgment then was +right. I have been imposed on--she is an imposter, an adventuress." + +"Amasy, Amasy, don't be so hard on her," pleaded his wife. But the +Squire had the true huntsman's instinct--when he went out to hunt, he +went out to kill. + +"The time has come," he continued, raising his voice and ignoring his +wife's pleading, "when this home is better without her." + +Anna had already begun her preparation to go. She took her cloak down +from its peg and wrapped it about her without a word. + +"Father, if Anna goes, I go with her," and David rose to his feet, the +very incarnation of wrath, and strode over to where Anna stood apart +from the rest. He put his arm about her protectingly, and stood there +defiant of them all. + +"David, you must be mad. What, you, a son of mine, defy your father +here in the presence of your friends for that--adventuress?" + +"Father, take back that word about Anna. A better woman never lived. +You--who call yourself a Christian--would you send away a friendless +girl a night like this? And for what reason? Because a few old cats +have been gossiping about her. It is unworthy of you, father; I would +not have believed it." + +"So you have appointed yourself her champion, sir. No doubt she has +been trying her arts on you. Don't be a fool, David; stand aside, if +she wants to go, let her; women like her can look out for themselves; +let her go." + +"Don't make me forget, sir, that you are my father. I refuse +absolutely to hear the woman I love spoken of in this way." + +The rest looked on in painful silence; they seemed to be deprived of +the power of speech or action by the Squire's vehemence; the wind +howled about the house fitfully, and was still, then resumed its +wailing grief. + +"And you stand there and defy me for that woman in the presence of +Kate, to whom you are as good as betrothed?" + +"No, no; there is no question of an engagement between David and me, +and there never can be," said Kate, not knowing in the least what to +make of the turn that things had taken. + +David continued to stand with his arm about Anna. He had heard the +Belden gossip--a wealthy young man from Boston had been attentive to +her, then left the place; jilted her, some said; been refused by her, +said others. It did not make a bit of difference to David which +version was true; he was ready to stand by Anna in the face of a +thousand gossips. This was just his father's brutal way of upholding +what he was pleased to term his authority. + +"What do you know about her, David?" reiterated the Squire. "I heard +reports, but like you, I would not believe them till I had investigated +them fully. Ask her if she has not been the mother of an illegitimate +child, who is now buried in the Episcopal cemetery at Belden--ask her +if she was not known there under the name of Mrs. Lennox?" + +"It is true," said the girl, raising her head, "that I was known as +Mrs. Lennox. It is true that I have a child buried in Belden----" + +David's arm fell from her, he buried his face in his hands and groaned. +Anna opened the door, a whirling gust flared the lamps and drove a +skurrying cloud of snowflakes within, yet not one hand was raised to +detain her. She swayed uncertain for a moment on the threshold, then +turned to them: "You have hunted me down, you have found out that I +have been a mother, that I am without the protection of a husband's +name, and that was enough for you--your duty stopped at the scandal. +Why did you not find out that I was a young, inexperienced girl who was +betrayed by a mock marriage--that I thought myself an honorable +wife--why should your duty stop in hunting down a defenseless girl +while the man who ruined her life sits there, a welcome guest in your +house to-night?" + +She was gone--David, who had been stunned by his father's words, ran +after her, but the whirling flakes had hidden every trace of her, and +the howling wind drove back his cry of "Anna, Anna! come back!" + +Anna did not feel the cold after closing the door between her and the +Squire's family; the white flame of her wrath seemed to burn up the +blood in her veins, as she plunged through the snowdrifts, unconscious +of the cold and storm. She had no words in which to formulate her fury +at the indignity of her treatment. Her native sweetness, for the +moment, had been extinguished and she was but the incarnation of +wronged womanhood, crying aloud to high Heaven for justice. + +The blood throbbed at her brain and the quickened circulation warmed +her till she loosened the cloak at her throat and wondered, in a dazed +sort of way, why she had put it on on such a stifling night. Then she +remembered the snow and eagerly uplifted her flushed cheeks that the +falling flakes might cool them. + +But of the icy grip of the storm she was wholly unconscious. There was +a mad exhilaration in facing the wild elements on such a night, the +exertion of forcing through the storm chimed in with her mood; each +snowdrift through which she fought her way was so much cruel injustice +beaten down. She felt that she had the strength and courage to walk to +the end of the earth and she went on and on, never thinking of the +storm, or her destination, or where she would rest that night. Her +head felt light, as if she had been drinking wine, and more than once +she stopped to mop the perspiration from her forehead. How absurd for +the snow to fall on such a sultry night, and foolish of those people +who had turned her out to die, thinking it was cold--the thermometer +must be 100. She paused to get her breath; a blast of icy wind caught +her cape, and almost succeeded in robbing her of it, and the chill +wrestled with the fever that was consuming her, and she realized for +the first time that it was cold. + +"Well, what next?" she asked herself, throwing back her head and +unconsciously assuming the attitude of a creature brought to bay but +still unconquered. + +"What next?" She repeated it with the dull despair of one who has +nothing further to fear in the way of suffering. The Fates had spent +themselves on her, she no longer had the power to respond. Suppose she +should become lost in a snowdrift? "Well, what did it matter?" + +Then came one of those unaccountable clearings of the mental vision +that nature seems to reserve for the final chapter. Her quickened +brain grasped the tragedy of her life as it never had before. She saw +it with impersonal eyes. Anna Moore was a stranger on whose case she +could sit with unbiased judgment. Her mind swung back to the football +game in the golden autumn eighteen months ago, and she heard the cheers +and saw the swarms of eager, upturned faces and the dots of blue and +crimson, like flowers, in a great waving field. What a panorama of +life, and force, and struggle it had been! How typical of life, and +the end--but no, the end was not yet; there must be some justice in +life, some law of compensation. God must hear at last! + +The wind came tearing down from, the pine forest, surging through the +hills till it became a roar. Ah, it had sounded like that at the game. +They had called "Rah, Rah Sanderson" till they were hoarse, "Sanderson, +Rah! Sander-son! Rah! Rah!" The crackling forest seemed to have +gone mad with the echo of his name. It had become the keynote of the +wind. Rah! Rah! Sanderson! + +"You can't escape him even in death" something seemed to whisper in her +ear. "Ha-ha, Sanderson, San-der-son." She put her hands to her ears +to shut out the hateful sound, but she heard it, like the wail of a +lost soul; this time faint and far off: Sander-son--San-der-son. It +was above her in the groaning, creaking branches of the trees, in the +falling snow, in the whipping wind, the mockery would not be stilled. + +Ha, ha, ha, ha, howled the wind, then sinking to a sigh, +San-der-son--San-der-son. + +The cold had begun to strike into the marrow. She moved as if her +limbs were weighted. There was a mist gathering before her eyes, and +she put up her hand and tried to brush it away, but it remained. She +felt as if she were carrying something heavy in her arms and as she +walked it grew heavier and heavier. To her wandering mind it took a +pitifully familiar shape. Ah, yes! She knew what it was now; it was +the baby, and she must not let it get cold. She must cover it with her +cape and press it close to her bosom to keep it warm, but it was so +far, so far, and it was getting heavier every moment. + +And the wind continued to wail its dirge of "San-der-son, San-der-son." +She went through the motion of covering up the baby's head; she did not +want it to waken and hear that awful cry. She lifted up her empty arms +and lowered her head to soothe the imaginary baby with a kiss, and was +shocked to feel how cold its little cheek had grown. She hurried on +and on. She would beg the Squire to let his wife take it in for just a +minute, to warm it. She would not ask to come in herself, but the +baby--no one would be so cruel as to refuse her that. It would die out +here in the cold and the storm. It was so cruel, so hard to be +wandering about on a night like this with the baby. Her eyes began to +fill with tears, and her lower lip to quiver, but she plodded on, +sometimes gaining a few steps and then retracing them, but always with +the same instinct that had spurred her on to efforts beyond her +strength, and this done, she had no further concern for herself. Her +body especially, where the cape did not protect it against the blast, +was freezing, shivering, aching all over. A latent consciousness began +to dawn as the dread presence of death drew nearer; some intuitive +effort of preservation asserted itself, and she kept repeating over and +over: "I must not give up. I must not give up." + +Presently the scene began to change, and the white formless world about +her began to assume definite shape. She had seen it all before, the +bare trees pointing their naked branches upward, the fringe of willows, +the smooth, glassy sheet of water that was partly frozen and partly +undulating toward the southern shore. The familiarity of it all began +to haunt her. Had she dreamed it--was she dreaming now? Perhaps it +was only a dream after all! Then, as if in a wave of clear thought, +she remembered it all. It was the lake, and she had been there with +the Sunday school children last summer on their picnic. + +It came to her like a solution of all her troubles; it was so placid, +so still, so cold. A moment and all would be forgotten. She stood +with one foot on the creaking ice. It was but to walk a dozen steps to +the place where the ice was but a crash of crystal and that would end +it all. She was so weary of the eternal strife of things, she was so +glad to lay down the burden under which her back was bending to the +point of breaking. + +And yet, there was the primitive instinct of self-preservation +combating her inclination, urging her on to make one more final effort. +Back and forth, through the snow about the lake she wandered; without +being able to decide. Her strength was fast ebbing. Which--which, +should it be? "God have mercy!" she cried, and fell unconscious. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE NIGHT IN THE SNOWSTORM. + + + "Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, + Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, + Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air + Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven."--_Emerson_. + + +All through that long, wild night David searched and shouted, to find +only snow and silence. + +Through the darkness and the falling flakes he could not see more than +a foot ahead, and when he would stumble over a stone or the fallen +trunk of a tree, he would stoop down and search through the drifts with +his bare hands, thinking perhaps that she might have fallen, and not +finding her, he would again take up his fruitless search, while cold +fear gnawed at his heart. + +At home in the warm farm house, sat the Squire who had done his duty. +The consciousness of having done it, however, did not fill him with +that cheerful glow of righteousness that is the reward of a good +conscience--on the contrary, he felt small. It might have been +imagination, but he felt, somehow, as if his wife and Kate were +shunning him. Once he had tried to take his wife's hand as she stood +with her face pressed to the window trying to see if she could make out +the dim outline of David returning with Anna, but she withdrew her hand +impatiently as she had never done in the thirty years of their married +life. Amasy's hardness was a thing no longer to be condoned. + +Furthermore, when the clock had struck eleven and then twelve, and yet +no sign of David or Anna, the Squire had reached for his fur cap and +announced his intention of "going to look for 'em." But like the +proverbial worm, the wife of his bosom had turned, and with all the +determination of a white rabbit she announced: + +"If I was you, Amasy, I'd stay to hum; seems as if you had made almost +enough trouble for one day." With the old habit of authority, strong +as ever, he looked at the worm, but there was a light in its eyes that +warned him as a danger signal. + +They were alone together, the Squire and his wife, and each was alone +in sorrow, the yoke of severity she had bowed beneath for thirty years +uncomplainingly galled to-night. It had sent her boy out into the +storm--perhaps to his death. There was little love in her heart for +Amasy. + +He tried to think that he had only done his duty, that David and Anna +would come back, and that, in the meantime, Louisa was less a comfort +to him, in his trouble, than she had ever been before. It was, of +course, his trouble; it never occurred to him that Louisa's heart might +have been breaking on its own account. + +The Squire found that duty was a cold comforter as the wretched hours +wore on. + +Sanderson had slunk from the house without a word immediately after +Anna's departure. In the general upheaval no one missed him, and when +they did it was too late for them to enjoy the comfort of shifting the +blame to his guilty shoulders. + +The professor followed Kate with the mute sympathy of a faithful dog; +he did not dare attempt to comfort her. The sight of a woman in tears +unnerved him; he would not have dared to intrude on her grief; he could +only wait patiently for some circumstance to arise in which he could be +of assistance. In the meantime he did the only practical thing within +his power--he went about from time to time, poked the fires and put on +coal. + +Marthy would have liked to discuss the iniquity of Lennox Sanderson +with any one--it was a subject on which she could have spent hours--but +no one seemed inclined to divert Marthy conversationally. In fact, her +popularity was not greater that night in the household than that of the +Squire. She spent her time in running from room to room, exclaiming +hysterically: + +"Land sakes! Ain't it dreadful?" + +The tension grew as time wore on without developments of any kind, the +waiting with the haunting fear of the worst grew harder to bear than +absolute calamity. + +Toward five o'clock the Squire announced his intention of going out and +continuing the search, and this time no one objected. In fact, Mrs. +Bartlett, Kate and the professor insisted on accompanying him and +Marthy decided to go, too, not only that she might be able to say she +was on hand in case of interesting developments, but because she was +afraid to be left in the house alone. + + * * * * * * + +Toward morning, David, spent and haggard, wandered into a little +maple-sugar shed that belonged to one of the neighbors. Smoke was +coming out of the chimney, and David entered, hoping that Anna might +have found here a refuge. + +He was quickly undeceived, however, for Lennox Sanderson stood by the +hearth warming his hands. The men glared at each other with the +instinctive fierceness of panthers. Not a word was spoken; each knew +that the language of fists could be the only medium of communication +between them; and each was anxious to have his say out. + +The men faced each other in silence, the flickering glare of the +firelight painting grotesque expressions on their set faces. David's +greater bulk loomed unnaturally large in the uncertain light, while +every trained muscle of Sanderson's athletic body was on the alert. + +It was the world old struggle between patrician and proletarian. + +Sanderson was an all-round athlete and a boxer of no mean order. This +was not his first battle. His quick eye showed him from David's +awkward attitude, that his opponent was in no way his equal from a +scientific standpoint. He looked for the easy victory that science, +nine times out of ten, can wrest from unskilled brute force. + +For, perhaps, half a minute the combatants stood thus. + +Then, with lowered head and outstretched arms, David rushed in. + +Sanderson side-stepped, avoiding the on-set. Before David could +recover himself, the other had sent his left fist crashing into the +country-man's face. + +The blow was delivered with all the trained force the athlete possessed +and sent David reeling against the rough wall of the house. + +Such a blow would have ended the fight then and there for an ordinary +man; but it only served to rouse David's sluggish blood to white heat. + +Again he rushed. + +This time he was more successful. + +True, Sanderson partially succeeded in avoiding the sledge-hammer fist, +though it missed his head, it struck glancingly on the left shoulder. +numbing for the moment the whole arm. Sanderson countered as the blow +fell, by bringing his right arm up with all his force and striking +David on the face. He sank to his knees, like a wounded bull, but was +on his feet again before Sanderson could follow up his advantage. + +David, heedless of the pain and fast flowing blood, rushed a third +time, catching Sanderson in a corner of the room whence he could not +escape. + +In an instant, the two were locked in a death-like grip. + +To and fro they reeled. No sound could be heard save the snapping of +brands on the hearth, the shuffle of moving feet and the short gasps of +struggling men. + +In that terrible grasp, Sanderson's strength was as a child's. + +He could not call into play any of the wrestling tricks that were his, +all he could do was to keep his feet and wait for the madman's strength +to expend itself. + +The iron grip about his body seemed to slacken for a moment. He +wriggled free, and caught the fatal underhold. + +By this new grip, he forced David's body backward till the larger man's +spine bade fair to snap. + +David felt himself caught in a trap. Exerting all his giant strength +he forced one arm down between their close-locked bodies, and clasped +his other hand on Sanderson's face, pushing two fingers into his +eyeballs. + +No man can endure this torture. Sanderson loosed his hold. David had +caught him by the right wrist and the left knee, stooping until his own +shoulders were under the other's thigh. Then, with this leverage, he +whirled Sanderson high in the air above his head and threw him with all +his force down upon the hearth. + +A shower of sparks arose and the strong smell of burning clothes, as +Sanderson, stunned and helpless, lay across the blazing fire-place. + +For a moment, David thought to leave his vanquished foe to his own +fate, then he turned back. What was the use? It could not right the +wrong he had done to Anna. He bent over Sanderson, extinguished the +fire, pulled the unconscious man to the open door and left him. + +It came to David like an inspiration that he had not thought of the +lake; the ice was thin on the southern shore below where the river +emptied. Suppose she had gone there; suppose in her utter desolation +she had gone there to end it all? Imagination, quickened by suspense +and suffering, ran to meet calamity; already he was there and saw the +bare trees, bearing their burden of snow, and the placid surface, half +frozen over, and on the southern shore, that faintly rippled under its +skimming of ice, something dark floating. He saw the floating black +hair, and the dead eyes, open, as if in accusation of the grim +injustice of it all. + +He hurried through the drifted snow, as fast as his spent strength +would permit, stumbling once or twice over some obstruction, and +covered the weary distance to the lake. + +About a hundred yards from the lake Dave saw something that made his +heart knock against his ribs and his breath come short, as if he had +been running. It was Anna's gray cloak. It lay spread out on the snow +as if it had been discarded hastily; there were footprints of a woman's +shoes near by; some of them leading toward the lake, others away from +it, as if she might have come and her courage failed her at the last +moment. The cape had not the faintest trace of snow on its upturned +surface. It must, therefore, have been discarded lately, after the +snowstorm had ceased this morning. + +Dave continued his search in an agony of apprehension. The sun faintly +struggled with the mass of gray cloud, revealing a world of white. He +had wandered in the direction of a clump of cedars, and remembered +pointing the place out to her in the autumn as the scene of some boyish +adventure, which to commemorate he had cut his name on one of the +trees. Association, more than any hope of finding her, led him to the +cedars--and she was there. She had fallen, apparently, from cold and +exhaustion. He bent down close to the white, still face that gave no +sign of life. He called her name, he kissed her, but there was no +response--it was too late. + +Dave looked at the little figure prostrate in the snow, and despair for +a time deprived him of all thought. Then the lifelong habit of being +practical asserted itself. Unconsciousness from long exposure to cold, +he knew, resembled death, but warmth and care would often revive the +fluttering spark. If there was a chance in a thousand, Dave was +prepared to fight the world for it. + +He lifted Anna tenderly and started back for the shed where he had +fought Sanderson. Frail as she was, it seemed to him, as he plunged +through the drifts, that his strength would never hold out till they +reached their destination. Inch by inch he struggled for every step of +the way, and the sweat dripped from him as if it had been August. But +he was more than rewarded, for once. She opened her eyes--she was not +dead. + +He found them all at the shed--the Squire, his mother, Kate, the +professor and Marthy. There was no time for questions or speeches. +Every one bent with a will toward the common object of restoring Anna. +The professor ran for the doctor, the women chafed the icy hands and +feet and the Squire built up a roaring fire. Their efforts were +finally rewarded and the big brown eyes opened and turned inquiringly +from one to another. + +"What has happened? Why are you all here?" she asked faintly; then +remembering, she wailed: "Oh, why did you bring me back? I went to the +lake, but it was so cold I could not throw myself in; then I walked +about till almost sunrise, and I was so tired that I laid down by the +cedars to sleep--why did you wake me?" + +"Anna," said the Squire, "we want you to forgive us and come back as +our daughter," and he slipped her cold little hand in David's. "This +boy has been looking for you all night, Anna. I thought maybe he had +been taken from us to punish me for my hardness. But, thank God, you +are both safe." + +"You will, Anna, won't you? and father will give us his blessing." She +smiled her assent. + +"I say, Squire, if you are giving out blessings, don't pass by Kate and +me." + +In the general kissing and congratulation that followed, Hi Holler +appeared. "Here's the sleigh, I thought maybe you'd all be ready for +breakfast. Hallo, Anna, so he found you! The station agent told me +that Mr. Sanderson left on the first train for Boston this morning. +Says he ain't never coming back." + +"And a good thing he ain't," snapped Marthy Perkins--"after all the +trouble he's made." + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Way Down East, by Joseph R. Grismer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'WAY DOWN EAST *** + +***** This file should be named 16959.txt or 16959.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/9/5/16959/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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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