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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/1821-0.txt b/1821-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..93d06d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/1821-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,910 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Charmed Life, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Charmed Life + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: May 12, 2006 [EBook #1821] +Last Updated: September 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHARMED LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson + + + + + +A CHARMED LIFE + + +by Richard Harding Davis + + + +She loved him so, that when he went away to a little war in which his +country was interested she could not understand, nor quite forgive. + +As the correspondent of a newspaper, Chesterton had looked on at other +wars; when the yellow races met, when the infidel Turk spanked the +Christian Greek; and one he had watched from inside a British square, +where he was greatly alarmed lest he should be trampled upon by +terrified camels. This had happened before he and she had met. After +they met, she told him that what chances he had chosen to take before +he came into her life fell outside of her jurisdiction. But now that +his life belonged to her, this talk of his standing up to be shot at was +wicked. It was worse than wicked; it was absurd. + +When the Maine sank in Havana harbor and the word “war” was appearing +hourly in hysterical extras, Miss Armitage explained her position. + +“You mustn’t think,” she said, “that I am one of those silly girls who +would beg you not to go to war.” + +At the moment of speaking her cheek happened to be resting against his, +and his arm was about her, so he humbly bent his head and kissed her, +and whispered very proudly and softly, “No, dearest.” + +At which she withdrew from him frowning. + +“No! I’m not a bit like those girls,” she proclaimed. “I merely tell you +YOU CAN’T GO! My gracious!” she cried, helplessly. She knew the words +fell short of expressing her distress, but her education had not +supplied her with exclamations of greater violence. + +“My goodness!” she cried. “How can you frighten me so? It’s not like +you,” she reproached him. “You are so unselfish, so noble. You are +always thinking of other people. How can you talk of going to war--to be +killed--to me? And now, now that you have made me love you so?” + +The hands, that when she talked seemed to him like swallows darting +and flashing in the sunlight, clutched his sleeve. The fingers, that +he would rather kiss than the lips of any other woman that ever lived, +clung to his arm. Their clasp reminded him of that of a drowning child +he had once lifted from the surf. + +“If you should die,” whispered Miss Armitage. “What would I do. What +would I do!” + +“But my dearest,” cried the young man. “My dearest ONE! I’ve GOT to go. +It’s our own war. Everybody else will go,” he pleaded. “Every man you +know, and they’re going to fight, too. I’m going only to look on. That’s +bad enough, isn’t it, without sitting at home? You should be sorry I’m +not going to fight.” + +“Sorry!” exclaimed the girl. “If you love me--” + +“If I love you,” shouted the young man. His voice suggested that he was +about to shake her. “How dare you?” + +She abandoned that position and attacked from one more logical. + +“But why punish me?” she protested. “Do I want the war? Do I want to +free Cuba? No! I want YOU, and if you go, you are the one who is sure +to be killed. You are so big--and so brave, and you will be rushing in +wherever the fighting is, and then--then you will die.” She raised +her eyes and looked at him as though seeing him from a great distance. +“And,” she added fatefully, “I will die, too, or maybe I will have to +live, to live without you for years, for many miserable years.” + +Fearfully, with great caution, as though in his joy in her he might +crush her in his hands, the young man drew her to him and held her +close. After a silence he whispered. “But, you know that nothing can +happen to me. Not now, that God has let me love you. He could not be so +cruel. He would not have given me such happiness to take it from me. A +man who loves you, as I love you, cannot come to any harm. And the man +YOU love is immortal, immune. He holds a charmed life. So long as you +love him, he must live.” + +The eyes of the girl smiled up at him through her tears. She lifted her +lips to his. “Then you will never die!” she said. + +She held him away from her. “Listen!” she whispered. “What you say is +true. It must be true, because you are always right. I love you so that +nothing can harm you. My love will be a charm. It will hang around your +neck and protect you, and keep you, and bring you back to me. When you +are in danger my love will save you. For, while it lives, I live. When +it dies--” + +Chesterton kissed her quickly. + +“What happens then,” he said, “doesn’t matter.” + +The war game had run its happy-go-lucky course briefly and brilliantly, +with “glory enough for all,” even for Chesterton. For, in no previous +campaign had good fortune so persistently stood smiling at his elbow. At +each moment of the war that was critical, picturesque, dramatic, by some +lucky accident he found himself among those present. He could not lose. +Even when his press boat broke down at Cardenas, a Yankee cruiser and +two Spanish gun-boats, apparently for his sole benefit, engaged in an +impromptu duel within range of his megaphone. When his horse went lame, +the column with which he had wished to advance, passed forward to the +front unmolested, while the rear guard, to which he had been forced to +join his fortune, fought its way through the stifling underbrush. + +Between his news despatches, when he was not singing the praises of +his fellow-countrymen, or copying lists of their killed and wounded, he +wrote to Miss Armitage. His letters were scrawled on yellow copy +paper and consisted of repetitions of the three words, “I love you,” + rearranged, illuminated, and intensified. + +Each letter began much in the same way. “The war is still going on. You +can read about it in the papers. What I want you to know is that I love +you as no man ever--” And so on for many pages. + +From her only one of the letters she wrote reached him. It was picked up +in the sand at Siboney after the medical corps, in an effort to wipe out +the yellow-fever, had set fire to the post-office tent. + +She had written it some weeks before from her summer home at Newport, +and in it she said: “When you went to the front, I thought no woman +could love more than I did then. But, now I know. At least I know one +girl who can. She cannot write it. She can never tell you. You must just +believe. + +“Each day I hear from you, for as soon as the paper comes, I take it +down to the rocks and read your cables, and I look south across the +ocean to Cuba, and try to see you in all that fighting and heat and +fever. But I am not afraid. For each morning I wake to find I love you +more; that it has grown stronger, more wonderful, more hard to bear. +And I know the charm I gave you grows with it, and is more powerful, +and that it will bring you back to me wearing new honors, ‘bearing your +sheaves with you.’ + +“As though I cared for your new honors. I want YOU, YOU, YOU--only YOU.” + +When Santiago surrendered and the invading army settled down to arrange +terms of peace, and imbibe fever, and General Miles moved to Porto Rico, +Chesterton moved with him. + +In that pretty little island a command of regulars under a general of +the regular army had, in a night attack, driven back the Spaniards from +Adhuntas. The next afternoon as the column was in line of march, and the +men were shaking themselves into their accoutrements, a dusty, sweating +volunteer staff officer rode down the main street of Adhuntas, and with +the authority of a field marshal, held up his hand. + +“General Miles’s compliments, sir,” he panted, “and peace is declared!” + +Different men received the news each in a different fashion. Some +whirled their hats in the air and cheered. Those who saw promotion and +the new insignia on their straps vanish, swore deeply. Chesterton fell +upon his saddle-bags and began to distribute his possessions among +the enlisted men. After he had remobilized, his effects consisted of a +change of clothes, his camera, water-bottle, and his medicine case. In +his present state of health and spirits he could not believe he stood +in need of the medicine case, but it was a gift from Miss Armitage, and +carried with it a promise from him that he always would carry it. He +had “packed” it throughout the campaign, and for others it had proved of +value. + +“I take it you are leaving us,” said an officer enviously. + +“I am leaving you so quick,” cried Chesterton laughing, “that you won’t +even see the dust. There’s a transport starts from Mayaguez at six +to-morrow morning, and, if I don’t catch it, this pony will die on the +wharf.” + +“The road to Mayaguez is not healthy for Americans,” said the general in +command. “I don’t think I ought to let you go. The enemy does not know +peace is on yet, and there are a lot of guerillas--” + +Chesterton shook his head in pitying wonder. + +“Not let me go!” he exclaimed. “Why, General, you haven’t enough men in +your command to stop me, and as for the Spaniards and guerillas--! I’m +homesick,” cried the young man. “I’m so damned homesick that I am liable +to die of it before the transport gets me to Sandy Hook.” + +“If you are shot up by an outpost,” growled the general, “you will be +worse off than homesick. It’s forty miles to Mayaguez. Better wait till +daylight. Where’s the sense of dying, after the fighting’s over?” + +“If I don’t catch that transport I sure WILL die,” laughed Chesterton. +His head was bent and he was tugging at his saddle girths. Apparently +the effort brought a deeper shadow to his tan, “but nothing else can +kill me! I have a charm, General,” he exclaimed. + +“We hadn’t noticed it,” said the general. + +The staff officers, according to regulations, laughed. + +“It’s not that kind of a charm,” said Chesterton. “Good-by, General.” + +The road was hardly more than a trail, but the moon made it as light +as day, and cast across it black tracings of the swinging vines and +creepers; while high in the air it turned the polished surface of the +palms into glittering silver. As he plunged into the cool depths of the +forest Chesterton threw up his arms and thanked God that he was moving +toward her. The luck that had accompanied him throughout the campaign +had held until the end. Had he been forced to wait for a transport, each +hour would have meant a month of torment, an arid, wasted place in his +life. As it was, with each eager stride of El Capitan, his little Porto +Rican pony, he was brought closer to her. He was so happy that as +he galloped through the dark shadows of the jungle or out into the +brilliant moonlight he shouted aloud and sang; and again as he urged El +Capitan to greater bursts of speed, he explained in joyous, breathless +phrases why it was that he urged him on. + +“For she is wonderful and most beautiful,” he cried, “the most glorious +girl in all the world! And, if I kept her waiting, even for a moment, El +Capitan, I would be unworthy--and I might lose her! So you see we ride +for a great prize!” + +The Spanish column that, the night before, had been driven from +Adhuntas, now in ignorance of peace, occupied both sides of the valley +through which ran the road to Mayaguez, and in ambush by the road itself +had placed an outpost of two men. One was a sharp-shooter of the picked +corps of the Guardia Civile, and one a sergeant of the regiment that lay +hidden in the heights. If the Americans advanced toward Mayaguez, these +men were to wait until the head of the column drew abreast of them, when +they were to fire. The report of their rifles would be the signal for +those in the hill above to wipe out the memory of Adhuntas. + +Chesterton had been riding at a gallop, but, as he reached the place +where the men lay in ambush, he pulled El Capitan to a walk, and took +advantage of his first breathing spell to light his pipe. He had already +filled it, and was now fumbling in his pocket for his match-box. The +match-box was of wood such as one can buy, filled to the brim with +matches, for one penny. But it was a most precious possession. In the +early days of his interest in Miss Armitage, as they were once setting +forth upon a motor trip, she had handed it to him. + +“Why,” he asked. + +“You always forget to bring any,” she said simply, “and have to borrow +some.” + +The other men in the car, knowing this to be a just reproof, laughed +sardonically, and at the laugh the girl had looked up in surprise. +Chesterton, seeing the look, understood that her act, trifling as +it was, had been sincere, had been inspired simply by thought of his +comfort. And he asked himself why young Miss Armitage should consider +his comfort, and why the fact that she did consider it should make him +so extremely happy. And he decided it must be because she loved him and +he loved her. + +Having arrived at that conclusion, he had asked her to marry him, and +upon the match-box had marked the date and the hour. Since then she had +given him many pretty presents, marked with her initials, marked with +his crest, with strange cabalistic mottoes that meant nothing to any one +save themselves. But the wooden matchbox was still the most valued of +his possessions. + +As he rode into the valley the rays of the moon fell fully upon him, and +exposed him to the outpost as pitilessly as though he had been held in +the circle of a search-light. + +The bronzed Mausers pushed cautiously through the screen of vines. There +was a pause, and the rifle of the sergeant wavered. When he spoke his +tone was one of disappointment. + +“He is a scout, riding alone,” he said. + +“He is an officer,” returned the sharp-shooter, excitedly. “The others +follow. We should fire now and give the signal.” + +“He is no officer, he is a scout,” repeated the sergeant. “They have +sent him ahead to study the trail and to seek us. He may be a league in +advance. If we shoot HIM, we only warn the others.” + +Chesterton was within fifty yards. After an excited and anxious +search he had found the match-box in the wrong pocket. The eyes of +the sharp-shooter frowned along the barrel of his rifle. With his chin +pressed against the stock he whispered swiftly from the corner of his +lips, “He is an officer! I am aiming where the strap crosses his heart. +You aim at his belt. We fire together.” + +The heat of the tropic night and the strenuous gallop had covered El +Capitan with a lather of sweat. The reins upon his neck dripped with it. +The gauntlets with which Chesterton held them were wet. As he raised the +matchbox it slipped from his fingers and fell noiselessly in the trail. +With an exclamation he dropped to the road and to his knees, and groping +in the dust began an eager search. + +The sergeant caught at the rifle of the sharpshooter, and pressed it +down. + +“Look!” he whispered. “He IS a scout. He is searching the trail for the +tracks of our ponies. If you fire they will hear it a league away.” + +“But if he finds our trail and returns--” + +The sergeant shook his head. “I let him pass forward,” he said grimly. +“He will never return.” + +Chesterton pounced upon the half-buried matchbox, and in a panic lest he +might again lose it, thrust it inside his tunic. + +“Little do you know, El Capitan,” he exclaimed breathlessly, as he +scrambled back into the saddle and lifted the pony into a gallop, “what +a narrow escape I had. I almost lost it.” + +Toward midnight they came to a wooden bridge swinging above a ravine +in which a mountain stream, forty feet below, splashed over half-hidden +rocks, and the stepping stones of the ford. Even before the campaign +began the bridge had outlived its usefulness, and the unwonted burden of +artillery, and the vibrations of marching men had so shaken it that it +swayed like a house of cards. Threatened by its own weight, at the mercy +of the first tropic storm, it hung a death trap for the one who first +added to its burden. + +No sooner had El Capitan struck it squarely with his four hoofs, than he +reared and, whirling, sprang back to the solid earth. The suddenness of +his retreat had all but thrown Chesterton, but he regained his seat, and +digging the pony roughly with his spurs, pulled his head again toward +the bridge. + +“What are you shying at, now?” he panted. “That’s a perfectly good +bridge.” + +For a minute horse and man struggled for the mastery, the horse spinning +in short circles, the man pulling, tugging, urging him with knees and +spurs. The first round ended in a draw. There were two more rounds with +the advantage slightly in favor of El Capitan, for he did not approach +the bridge. + +The night was warm and the exertion violent. Chesterton, puzzled and +annoyed, paused to regain his breath and his temper. Below him, in +the ravine, the shallow waters of the ford called to him, suggesting a +pleasant compromise. He turned his eyes downward and saw hanging over +the water what appeared to be a white bird upon the lower limb of a +dead tree. He knew it to be an orchid, an especially rare orchid, and he +knew, also, that the orchid was the favorite flower of Miss Armitage. +In a moment he was on his feet, and with the reins over his arm, was +slipping down the bank, dragging El Capitan behind him. He ripped from +the dead tree the bark to which the orchid was clinging, and with wet +moss and grass packed it in his leather camera case. The camera he +abandoned on the path. He always could buy another camera; he could not +again carry a white orchid, plucked in the heart of the tropics on the +night peace was declared, to the girl he left behind him. Followed by El +Capitan, nosing and snuffing gratefully at the cool waters, he waded the +ford, and with his camera case swinging from his shoulder, galloped up +the opposite bank and back into the trail. + +A minute later, the bridge, unable to recover from the death blow struck +by El Capitan, went whirling into the ravine and was broken upon the +rocks below. Hearing the crash behind him, Chesterton guessed that in +the jungle a tree had fallen. + +They had started at six in the afternoon and had covered twenty of the +forty miles that lay between Adhuntas and Mayaguez, when, just at the +outskirts of the tiny village of Caguan, El Capitan stumbled, and when +he arose painfully, he again fell forward. + +Caguan was a little church, a little vine-covered inn, a dozen one-story +adobe houses shining in the moonlight like whitewashed sepulchres. They +faced a grass-grown plaza, in the centre of which stood a great wooden +cross. At one corner of the village was a corral, and in it many ponies. +At the sight Chesterton gave a cry of relief. A light showed through +the closed shutters of the inn, and when he beat with his whip upon the +door, from the adobe houses other lights shone, and white-clad figures +appeared in the moonlight. The landlord of the inn was a Spaniard, fat +and prosperous-looking, but for the moment his face was eloquent with +such distress and misery that the heart of the young man, who was at +peace with all the world, went instantly out to him. The Spaniard was +less sympathetic. When he saw the khaki suit and the campaign hat +he scowled, and ungraciously would have closed the door. Chesterton, +apologizing, pushed it open. His pony, he explained, had gone lame, and +he must have another, and at once. The landlord shrugged his shoulders. +These were war times, he said, and the American officer could take +what he liked. They in Caguan were noncombatants and could not protest. +Chesterton hastened to reassure him. The war, he announced, was over, +and were it not, he was no officer to issue requisitions. He intended +to pay for the pony. He unbuckled his belt and poured upon the table +a handful of Spanish doubloons. The landlord lowered the candle and +silently counted the gold pieces, and then calling to him two of his +fellow-villagers, crossed the tiny plaza and entered the corral. + +“The American pig,” he whispered, “wishes to buy a pony. He tells me the +war is over; that Spain has surrendered. We know that must be a lie. It +is more probable he is a deserter. He claims he is a civilian, but that +also is a lie, for he is in uniform. You, Paul, sell him your pony, and +then wait for him at the first turn in the trail, and take it from him.” + +“He is armed,” protested the one called Paul. + +“You must not give him time to draw his revolver,” ordered the landlord. +“You and Pedro will shoot him from the shadow. He is our country’s +enemy, and it will be in a good cause. And he may carry despatches. If +we take them to the commandante at Mayaguez he will reward us.” + +“And the gold pieces?” demanded the one called Paul. + +“We will divide them in three parts,” said the landlord. + +In the front of the inn, surrounded by a ghostlike group that spoke +its suspicions, Chesterton was lifting his saddle from El Capitan and +rubbing the lame foreleg. It was not a serious sprain. A week would +set it right, but for that night the pony was useless. Impatiently, +Chesterton called across the plaza, begging the landlord to make haste. +He was eager to be gone, alarmed and fearful lest even this slight delay +should cause him to miss the transport. The thought was intolerable. But +he was also acutely conscious that he was very hungry, and he was too +old a campaigner to scoff at hunger. With the hope that he could find +something to carry with him and eat as he rode forward, he entered the +inn. + +The main room of the house was now in darkness, but a smaller room +adjoining it was lit by candles, and by a tiny taper floating before +a crucifix. In the light of the candles Chesterton made out a bed, a +priest bending over it, a woman kneeling beside it, and upon the bed the +little figure of a boy who tossed and moaned. As Chesterton halted and +waited hesitating, the priest strode past him, and in a voice dull and +flat with grief and weariness, ordered those at the door to bring the +landlord quickly. As one of the group leaped toward the corral, the +priest said to the others: “There is another attack. I have lost hope.” + +Chesterton advanced and asked if he could be of service. The priest +shook his head. The child, he said, was the only son of the landlord, +and much beloved by him, and by all the village. He was now in the third +week of typhoid fever and the period of hemorrhages. Unless they could +be checked, the boy would die, and the priest, who for many miles of +mountain and forest was also the only doctor, had exhausted his store of +simple medicines. + +“Nothing can stop the hemorrhage,” he protested wearily, “but the +strongest of drugs. And I have nothing!” + +Chesterton bethought him of the medicine case Miss Armitage had forced +upon him. “I have given opium to the men for dysentery,” he said. “Would +opium help you?” + +The priest sprang at him and pushed him out of the door and toward the +saddle-bags. + +“My children,” he cried, to the silent group in the plaza, “God has sent +a miracle!” + +After an hour at the bedside the priest said, “He will live,” and +knelt, and the mother of the boy and the villagers knelt with him. When +Chesterton raised his eyes, he found that the landlord, who had been +silently watching while the two men struggled with death for the life +of his son, had disappeared. But he heard, leaving the village along the +trail to Mayaguez, the sudden clatter of a pony’s hoofs. It moved like a +thing driven with fear. + +The priest strode out into the moonlight. In the recovery of the child +he saw only a demonstration of the efficacy of prayer, and he could +not too quickly bring home the lesson to his parishioners. Amid their +murmurs of wonder and gratitude Chesterton rode away. To the kindly care +of the priest he bequeathed El Capitan. With him, also, he left the gold +pieces which were to pay for the fresh pony. + +A quarter of a mile outside the village three white figures confronted +him. Two who stood apart in the shadow shrank from observation, but the +landlord, seated bareback upon a pony that from some late exertion was +breathing heavily, called to him to halt. + +“In the fashion of my country,” he began grandiloquently, “we have come +this far to wish you God speed upon your journey.” In the fashion of +the American he seized Chesterton by the hand. “I thank you, senor,” he +murmured. + +“Not me,” returned Chesterton. “But the one who made me ‘pack’ that +medicine chest. Thank her, for to-night I think it saved a life.” + +The Spaniard regarded him curiously, fixing him with his eyes as though +deep in consideration. At last he smiled gravely. + +“You are right,” he said. “Let us both remember her in our prayers.” + +As Chesterton rode away the words remained gratefully in his memory and +filled him with pleasant thoughts. “The world,” he mused, “is full of +just such kind and gentle souls.” + + +After an interminable delay he reached Newport, and they escaped from +the others, and Miss Armitage and he ran down the lawn to the rocks, and +stood with the waves whispering at their feet. + +It was the moment for which each had so often longed, with which both +had so often tortured themselves by living in imagination, that now, +that it was theirs, they were fearful it might not be true. + +Finally, he said: “And the charm never failed! Indeed, it was wonderful! +It stood by me so obviously. For instance, the night before San Juan, +in the mill at El Poso, I slept on the same poncho with another +correspondent. I woke up with a raging appetite for bacon and coffee, +and he woke up out of his mind, and with a temperature of one hundred +and four. And again, I was standing by Capron’s gun at El Caney, when +a shell took the three men who served it, and only scared ME. And there +was another time--” He stopped. “Anyway,” he laughed, “here I am.” + +“But there was one night, one awful night,” began the girl. She +trembled, and he made this an added excuse for drawing her closer to +him. “When I felt you were in great peril, that you would surely die. +And all through the night I knelt by the window and looked toward Cuba +and prayed, and prayed to God to let you live.” + +Chesterton bent his head and kissed the tips of her fingers. After a +moment he said: “Would you know what night it was? It might be curious +if I had been--” + +“Would I know!” cried the girl. “It was eight days ago. The night of the +twelfth. An awful night!” + +“The twelfth!” exclaimed Chesterton, and laughed and then begged her +pardon humbly. “I laughed because the twelfth,” he exclaimed, “was the +night peace was declared. The war was over. I’m sorry, but THAT night I +was riding toward you, thinking only of you. I was never for a moment in +danger.” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Charmed Life, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHARMED LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 1821-0.txt or 1821-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/1821/ + +Produced by Don Lainson + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/1821-0.zip b/1821-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..425b746 --- /dev/null +++ b/1821-0.zip diff --git a/1821-h.zip b/1821-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7334bce --- /dev/null +++ b/1821-h.zip diff --git a/1821-h/1821-h.htm b/1821-h/1821-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf891a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/1821-h/1821-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1058 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Charmed Life, by Richard Harding Davis + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Charmed Life, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Charmed Life + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: May 12, 2006 [EBook #1821] +Last Updated: September 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHARMED LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + A CHARMED LIFE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Richard Harding Davis + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + She loved him so, that when he went away to a little war in which his + country was interested she could not understand, nor quite forgive. + </p> + <p> + As the correspondent of a newspaper, Chesterton had looked on at other + wars; when the yellow races met, when the infidel Turk spanked the + Christian Greek; and one he had watched from inside a British square, + where he was greatly alarmed lest he should be trampled upon by terrified + camels. This had happened before he and she had met. After they met, she + told him that what chances he had chosen to take before he came into her + life fell outside of her jurisdiction. But now that his life belonged to + her, this talk of his standing up to be shot at was wicked. It was worse + than wicked; it was absurd. + </p> + <p> + When the Maine sank in Havana harbor and the word “war” was appearing + hourly in hysterical extras, Miss Armitage explained her position. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t think,” she said, “that I am one of those silly girls who + would beg you not to go to war.” + </p> + <p> + At the moment of speaking her cheek happened to be resting against his, + and his arm was about her, so he humbly bent his head and kissed her, and + whispered very proudly and softly, “No, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + At which she withdrew from him frowning. + </p> + <p> + “No! I’m not a bit like those girls,” she proclaimed. “I merely tell you + YOU CAN’T GO! My gracious!” she cried, helplessly. She knew the words fell + short of expressing her distress, but her education had not supplied her + with exclamations of greater violence. + </p> + <p> + “My goodness!” she cried. “How can you frighten me so? It’s not like you,” + she reproached him. “You are so unselfish, so noble. You are always + thinking of other people. How can you talk of going to war—to be + killed—to me? And now, now that you have made me love you so?” + </p> + <p> + The hands, that when she talked seemed to him like swallows darting and + flashing in the sunlight, clutched his sleeve. The fingers, that he would + rather kiss than the lips of any other woman that ever lived, clung to his + arm. Their clasp reminded him of that of a drowning child he had once + lifted from the surf. + </p> + <p> + “If you should die,” whispered Miss Armitage. “What would I do. What would + I do!” + </p> + <p> + “But my dearest,” cried the young man. “My dearest ONE! I’ve GOT to go. + It’s our own war. Everybody else will go,” he pleaded. “Every man you + know, and they’re going to fight, too. I’m going only to look on. That’s + bad enough, isn’t it, without sitting at home? You should be sorry I’m not + going to fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry!” exclaimed the girl. “If you love me—” + </p> + <p> + “If I love you,” shouted the young man. His voice suggested that he was + about to shake her. “How dare you?” + </p> + <p> + She abandoned that position and attacked from one more logical. + </p> + <p> + “But why punish me?” she protested. “Do I want the war? Do I want to free + Cuba? No! I want YOU, and if you go, you are the one who is sure to be + killed. You are so big—and so brave, and you will be rushing in + wherever the fighting is, and then—then you will die.” She raised + her eyes and looked at him as though seeing him from a great distance. + “And,” she added fatefully, “I will die, too, or maybe I will have to + live, to live without you for years, for many miserable years.” + </p> + <p> + Fearfully, with great caution, as though in his joy in her he might crush + her in his hands, the young man drew her to him and held her close. After + a silence he whispered. “But, you know that nothing can happen to me. Not + now, that God has let me love you. He could not be so cruel. He would not + have given me such happiness to take it from me. A man who loves you, as I + love you, cannot come to any harm. And the man YOU love is immortal, + immune. He holds a charmed life. So long as you love him, he must live.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the girl smiled up at him through her tears. She lifted her + lips to his. “Then you will never die!” she said. + </p> + <p> + She held him away from her. “Listen!” she whispered. “What you say is + true. It must be true, because you are always right. I love you so that + nothing can harm you. My love will be a charm. It will hang around your + neck and protect you, and keep you, and bring you back to me. When you are + in danger my love will save you. For, while it lives, I live. When it dies—” + </p> + <p> + Chesterton kissed her quickly. + </p> + <p> + “What happens then,” he said, “doesn’t matter.” + </p> + <p> + The war game had run its happy-go-lucky course briefly and brilliantly, + with “glory enough for all,” even for Chesterton. For, in no previous + campaign had good fortune so persistently stood smiling at his elbow. At + each moment of the war that was critical, picturesque, dramatic, by some + lucky accident he found himself among those present. He could not lose. + Even when his press boat broke down at Cardenas, a Yankee cruiser and two + Spanish gun-boats, apparently for his sole benefit, engaged in an + impromptu duel within range of his megaphone. When his horse went lame, + the column with which he had wished to advance, passed forward to the + front unmolested, while the rear guard, to which he had been forced to + join his fortune, fought its way through the stifling underbrush. + </p> + <p> + Between his news despatches, when he was not singing the praises of his + fellow-countrymen, or copying lists of their killed and wounded, he wrote + to Miss Armitage. His letters were scrawled on yellow copy paper and + consisted of repetitions of the three words, “I love you,” rearranged, + illuminated, and intensified. + </p> + <p> + Each letter began much in the same way. “The war is still going on. You + can read about it in the papers. What I want you to know is that I love + you as no man ever—” And so on for many pages. + </p> + <p> + From her only one of the letters she wrote reached him. It was picked up + in the sand at Siboney after the medical corps, in an effort to wipe out + the yellow-fever, had set fire to the post-office tent. + </p> + <p> + She had written it some weeks before from her summer home at Newport, and + in it she said: “When you went to the front, I thought no woman could love + more than I did then. But, now I know. At least I know one girl who can. + She cannot write it. She can never tell you. You must just believe. + </p> + <p> + “Each day I hear from you, for as soon as the paper comes, I take it down + to the rocks and read your cables, and I look south across the ocean to + Cuba, and try to see you in all that fighting and heat and fever. But I am + not afraid. For each morning I wake to find I love you more; that it has + grown stronger, more wonderful, more hard to bear. And I know the charm I + gave you grows with it, and is more powerful, and that it will bring you + back to me wearing new honors, ‘bearing your sheaves with you.’ + </p> + <p> + “As though I cared for your new honors. I want YOU, YOU, YOU—only + YOU.” + </p> + <p> + When Santiago surrendered and the invading army settled down to arrange + terms of peace, and imbibe fever, and General Miles moved to Porto Rico, + Chesterton moved with him. + </p> + <p> + In that pretty little island a command of regulars under a general of the + regular army had, in a night attack, driven back the Spaniards from + Adhuntas. The next afternoon as the column was in line of march, and the + men were shaking themselves into their accoutrements, a dusty, sweating + volunteer staff officer rode down the main street of Adhuntas, and with + the authority of a field marshal, held up his hand. + </p> + <p> + “General Miles’s compliments, sir,” he panted, “and peace is declared!” + </p> + <p> + Different men received the news each in a different fashion. Some whirled + their hats in the air and cheered. Those who saw promotion and the new + insignia on their straps vanish, swore deeply. Chesterton fell upon his + saddle-bags and began to distribute his possessions among the enlisted + men. After he had remobilized, his effects consisted of a change of + clothes, his camera, water-bottle, and his medicine case. In his present + state of health and spirits he could not believe he stood in need of the + medicine case, but it was a gift from Miss Armitage, and carried with it a + promise from him that he always would carry it. He had “packed” it + throughout the campaign, and for others it had proved of value. + </p> + <p> + “I take it you are leaving us,” said an officer enviously. + </p> + <p> + “I am leaving you so quick,” cried Chesterton laughing, “that you won’t + even see the dust. There’s a transport starts from Mayaguez at six + to-morrow morning, and, if I don’t catch it, this pony will die on the + wharf.” + </p> + <p> + “The road to Mayaguez is not healthy for Americans,” said the general in + command. “I don’t think I ought to let you go. The enemy does not know + peace is on yet, and there are a lot of guerillas—” + </p> + <p> + Chesterton shook his head in pitying wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Not let me go!” he exclaimed. “Why, General, you haven’t enough men in + your command to stop me, and as for the Spaniards and guerillas—! + I’m homesick,” cried the young man. “I’m so damned homesick that I am + liable to die of it before the transport gets me to Sandy Hook.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are shot up by an outpost,” growled the general, “you will be + worse off than homesick. It’s forty miles to Mayaguez. Better wait till + daylight. Where’s the sense of dying, after the fighting’s over?” + </p> + <p> + “If I don’t catch that transport I sure WILL die,” laughed Chesterton. His + head was bent and he was tugging at his saddle girths. Apparently the + effort brought a deeper shadow to his tan, “but nothing else can kill me! + I have a charm, General,” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “We hadn’t noticed it,” said the general. + </p> + <p> + The staff officers, according to regulations, laughed. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not that kind of a charm,” said Chesterton. “Good-by, General.” + </p> + <p> + The road was hardly more than a trail, but the moon made it as light as + day, and cast across it black tracings of the swinging vines and creepers; + while high in the air it turned the polished surface of the palms into + glittering silver. As he plunged into the cool depths of the forest + Chesterton threw up his arms and thanked God that he was moving toward + her. The luck that had accompanied him throughout the campaign had held + until the end. Had he been forced to wait for a transport, each hour would + have meant a month of torment, an arid, wasted place in his life. As it + was, with each eager stride of El Capitan, his little Porto Rican pony, he + was brought closer to her. He was so happy that as he galloped through the + dark shadows of the jungle or out into the brilliant moonlight he shouted + aloud and sang; and again as he urged El Capitan to greater bursts of + speed, he explained in joyous, breathless phrases why it was that he urged + him on. + </p> + <p> + “For she is wonderful and most beautiful,” he cried, “the most glorious + girl in all the world! And, if I kept her waiting, even for a moment, El + Capitan, I would be unworthy—and I might lose her! So you see we + ride for a great prize!” + </p> + <p> + The Spanish column that, the night before, had been driven from Adhuntas, + now in ignorance of peace, occupied both sides of the valley through which + ran the road to Mayaguez, and in ambush by the road itself had placed an + outpost of two men. One was a sharp-shooter of the picked corps of the + Guardia Civile, and one a sergeant of the regiment that lay hidden in the + heights. If the Americans advanced toward Mayaguez, these men were to wait + until the head of the column drew abreast of them, when they were to fire. + The report of their rifles would be the signal for those in the hill above + to wipe out the memory of Adhuntas. + </p> + <p> + Chesterton had been riding at a gallop, but, as he reached the place where + the men lay in ambush, he pulled El Capitan to a walk, and took advantage + of his first breathing spell to light his pipe. He had already filled it, + and was now fumbling in his pocket for his match-box. The match-box was of + wood such as one can buy, filled to the brim with matches, for one penny. + But it was a most precious possession. In the early days of his interest + in Miss Armitage, as they were once setting forth upon a motor trip, she + had handed it to him. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You always forget to bring any,” she said simply, “and have to borrow + some.” + </p> + <p> + The other men in the car, knowing this to be a just reproof, laughed + sardonically, and at the laugh the girl had looked up in surprise. + Chesterton, seeing the look, understood that her act, trifling as it was, + had been sincere, had been inspired simply by thought of his comfort. And + he asked himself why young Miss Armitage should consider his comfort, and + why the fact that she did consider it should make him so extremely happy. + And he decided it must be because she loved him and he loved her. + </p> + <p> + Having arrived at that conclusion, he had asked her to marry him, and upon + the match-box had marked the date and the hour. Since then she had given + him many pretty presents, marked with her initials, marked with his crest, + with strange cabalistic mottoes that meant nothing to any one save + themselves. But the wooden matchbox was still the most valued of his + possessions. + </p> + <p> + As he rode into the valley the rays of the moon fell fully upon him, and + exposed him to the outpost as pitilessly as though he had been held in the + circle of a search-light. + </p> + <p> + The bronzed Mausers pushed cautiously through the screen of vines. There + was a pause, and the rifle of the sergeant wavered. When he spoke his tone + was one of disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “He is a scout, riding alone,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “He is an officer,” returned the sharp-shooter, excitedly. “The others + follow. We should fire now and give the signal.” + </p> + <p> + “He is no officer, he is a scout,” repeated the sergeant. “They have sent + him ahead to study the trail and to seek us. He may be a league in + advance. If we shoot HIM, we only warn the others.” + </p> + <p> + Chesterton was within fifty yards. After an excited and anxious search he + had found the match-box in the wrong pocket. The eyes of the sharp-shooter + frowned along the barrel of his rifle. With his chin pressed against the + stock he whispered swiftly from the corner of his lips, “He is an officer! + I am aiming where the strap crosses his heart. You aim at his belt. We + fire together.” + </p> + <p> + The heat of the tropic night and the strenuous gallop had covered El + Capitan with a lather of sweat. The reins upon his neck dripped with it. + The gauntlets with which Chesterton held them were wet. As he raised the + matchbox it slipped from his fingers and fell noiselessly in the trail. + With an exclamation he dropped to the road and to his knees, and groping + in the dust began an eager search. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant caught at the rifle of the sharpshooter, and pressed it down. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he whispered. “He IS a scout. He is searching the trail for the + tracks of our ponies. If you fire they will hear it a league away.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he finds our trail and returns—” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant shook his head. “I let him pass forward,” he said grimly. “He + will never return.” + </p> + <p> + Chesterton pounced upon the half-buried matchbox, and in a panic lest he + might again lose it, thrust it inside his tunic. + </p> + <p> + “Little do you know, El Capitan,” he exclaimed breathlessly, as he + scrambled back into the saddle and lifted the pony into a gallop, “what a + narrow escape I had. I almost lost it.” + </p> + <p> + Toward midnight they came to a wooden bridge swinging above a ravine in + which a mountain stream, forty feet below, splashed over half-hidden + rocks, and the stepping stones of the ford. Even before the campaign began + the bridge had outlived its usefulness, and the unwonted burden of + artillery, and the vibrations of marching men had so shaken it that it + swayed like a house of cards. Threatened by its own weight, at the mercy + of the first tropic storm, it hung a death trap for the one who first + added to its burden. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had El Capitan struck it squarely with his four hoofs, than he + reared and, whirling, sprang back to the solid earth. The suddenness of + his retreat had all but thrown Chesterton, but he regained his seat, and + digging the pony roughly with his spurs, pulled his head again toward the + bridge. + </p> + <p> + “What are you shying at, now?” he panted. “That’s a perfectly good + bridge.” + </p> + <p> + For a minute horse and man struggled for the mastery, the horse spinning + in short circles, the man pulling, tugging, urging him with knees and + spurs. The first round ended in a draw. There were two more rounds with + the advantage slightly in favor of El Capitan, for he did not approach the + bridge. + </p> + <p> + The night was warm and the exertion violent. Chesterton, puzzled and + annoyed, paused to regain his breath and his temper. Below him, in the + ravine, the shallow waters of the ford called to him, suggesting a + pleasant compromise. He turned his eyes downward and saw hanging over the + water what appeared to be a white bird upon the lower limb of a dead tree. + He knew it to be an orchid, an especially rare orchid, and he knew, also, + that the orchid was the favorite flower of Miss Armitage. In a moment he + was on his feet, and with the reins over his arm, was slipping down the + bank, dragging El Capitan behind him. He ripped from the dead tree the + bark to which the orchid was clinging, and with wet moss and grass packed + it in his leather camera case. The camera he abandoned on the path. He + always could buy another camera; he could not again carry a white orchid, + plucked in the heart of the tropics on the night peace was declared, to + the girl he left behind him. Followed by El Capitan, nosing and snuffing + gratefully at the cool waters, he waded the ford, and with his camera case + swinging from his shoulder, galloped up the opposite bank and back into + the trail. + </p> + <p> + A minute later, the bridge, unable to recover from the death blow struck + by El Capitan, went whirling into the ravine and was broken upon the rocks + below. Hearing the crash behind him, Chesterton guessed that in the jungle + a tree had fallen. + </p> + <p> + They had started at six in the afternoon and had covered twenty of the + forty miles that lay between Adhuntas and Mayaguez, when, just at the + outskirts of the tiny village of Caguan, El Capitan stumbled, and when he + arose painfully, he again fell forward. + </p> + <p> + Caguan was a little church, a little vine-covered inn, a dozen one-story + adobe houses shining in the moonlight like whitewashed sepulchres. They + faced a grass-grown plaza, in the centre of which stood a great wooden + cross. At one corner of the village was a corral, and in it many ponies. + At the sight Chesterton gave a cry of relief. A light showed through the + closed shutters of the inn, and when he beat with his whip upon the door, + from the adobe houses other lights shone, and white-clad figures appeared + in the moonlight. The landlord of the inn was a Spaniard, fat and + prosperous-looking, but for the moment his face was eloquent with such + distress and misery that the heart of the young man, who was at peace with + all the world, went instantly out to him. The Spaniard was less + sympathetic. When he saw the khaki suit and the campaign hat he scowled, + and ungraciously would have closed the door. Chesterton, apologizing, + pushed it open. His pony, he explained, had gone lame, and he must have + another, and at once. The landlord shrugged his shoulders. These were war + times, he said, and the American officer could take what he liked. They in + Caguan were noncombatants and could not protest. Chesterton hastened to + reassure him. The war, he announced, was over, and were it not, he was no + officer to issue requisitions. He intended to pay for the pony. He + unbuckled his belt and poured upon the table a handful of Spanish + doubloons. The landlord lowered the candle and silently counted the gold + pieces, and then calling to him two of his fellow-villagers, crossed the + tiny plaza and entered the corral. + </p> + <p> + “The American pig,” he whispered, “wishes to buy a pony. He tells me the + war is over; that Spain has surrendered. We know that must be a lie. It is + more probable he is a deserter. He claims he is a civilian, but that also + is a lie, for he is in uniform. You, Paul, sell him your pony, and then + wait for him at the first turn in the trail, and take it from him.” + </p> + <p> + “He is armed,” protested the one called Paul. + </p> + <p> + “You must not give him time to draw his revolver,” ordered the landlord. + “You and Pedro will shoot him from the shadow. He is our country’s enemy, + and it will be in a good cause. And he may carry despatches. If we take + them to the commandante at Mayaguez he will reward us.” + </p> + <p> + “And the gold pieces?” demanded the one called Paul. + </p> + <p> + “We will divide them in three parts,” said the landlord. + </p> + <p> + In the front of the inn, surrounded by a ghostlike group that spoke its + suspicions, Chesterton was lifting his saddle from El Capitan and rubbing + the lame foreleg. It was not a serious sprain. A week would set it right, + but for that night the pony was useless. Impatiently, Chesterton called + across the plaza, begging the landlord to make haste. He was eager to be + gone, alarmed and fearful lest even this slight delay should cause him to + miss the transport. The thought was intolerable. But he was also acutely + conscious that he was very hungry, and he was too old a campaigner to + scoff at hunger. With the hope that he could find something to carry with + him and eat as he rode forward, he entered the inn. + </p> + <p> + The main room of the house was now in darkness, but a smaller room + adjoining it was lit by candles, and by a tiny taper floating before a + crucifix. In the light of the candles Chesterton made out a bed, a priest + bending over it, a woman kneeling beside it, and upon the bed the little + figure of a boy who tossed and moaned. As Chesterton halted and waited + hesitating, the priest strode past him, and in a voice dull and flat with + grief and weariness, ordered those at the door to bring the landlord + quickly. As one of the group leaped toward the corral, the priest said to + the others: “There is another attack. I have lost hope.” + </p> + <p> + Chesterton advanced and asked if he could be of service. The priest shook + his head. The child, he said, was the only son of the landlord, and much + beloved by him, and by all the village. He was now in the third week of + typhoid fever and the period of hemorrhages. Unless they could be checked, + the boy would die, and the priest, who for many miles of mountain and + forest was also the only doctor, had exhausted his store of simple + medicines. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can stop the hemorrhage,” he protested wearily, “but the + strongest of drugs. And I have nothing!” + </p> + <p> + Chesterton bethought him of the medicine case Miss Armitage had forced + upon him. “I have given opium to the men for dysentery,” he said. “Would + opium help you?” + </p> + <p> + The priest sprang at him and pushed him out of the door and toward the + saddle-bags. + </p> + <p> + “My children,” he cried, to the silent group in the plaza, “God has sent a + miracle!” + </p> + <p> + After an hour at the bedside the priest said, “He will live,” and knelt, + and the mother of the boy and the villagers knelt with him. When + Chesterton raised his eyes, he found that the landlord, who had been + silently watching while the two men struggled with death for the life of + his son, had disappeared. But he heard, leaving the village along the + trail to Mayaguez, the sudden clatter of a pony’s hoofs. It moved like a + thing driven with fear. + </p> + <p> + The priest strode out into the moonlight. In the recovery of the child he + saw only a demonstration of the efficacy of prayer, and he could not too + quickly bring home the lesson to his parishioners. Amid their murmurs of + wonder and gratitude Chesterton rode away. To the kindly care of the + priest he bequeathed El Capitan. With him, also, he left the gold pieces + which were to pay for the fresh pony. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of a mile outside the village three white figures confronted + him. Two who stood apart in the shadow shrank from observation, but the + landlord, seated bareback upon a pony that from some late exertion was + breathing heavily, called to him to halt. + </p> + <p> + “In the fashion of my country,” he began grandiloquently, “we have come + this far to wish you God speed upon your journey.” In the fashion of the + American he seized Chesterton by the hand. “I thank you, senor,” he + murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Not me,” returned Chesterton. “But the one who made me ‘pack’ that + medicine chest. Thank her, for to-night I think it saved a life.” + </p> + <p> + The Spaniard regarded him curiously, fixing him with his eyes as though + deep in consideration. At last he smiled gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said. “Let us both remember her in our prayers.” + </p> + <p> + As Chesterton rode away the words remained gratefully in his memory and + filled him with pleasant thoughts. “The world,” he mused, “is full of just + such kind and gentle souls.” + </p> + <p> + After an interminable delay he reached Newport, and they escaped from the + others, and Miss Armitage and he ran down the lawn to the rocks, and stood + with the waves whispering at their feet. + </p> + <p> + It was the moment for which each had so often longed, with which both had + so often tortured themselves by living in imagination, that now, that it + was theirs, they were fearful it might not be true. + </p> + <p> + Finally, he said: “And the charm never failed! Indeed, it was wonderful! + It stood by me so obviously. For instance, the night before San Juan, in + the mill at El Poso, I slept on the same poncho with another + correspondent. I woke up with a raging appetite for bacon and coffee, and + he woke up out of his mind, and with a temperature of one hundred and + four. And again, I was standing by Capron’s gun at El Caney, when a shell + took the three men who served it, and only scared ME. And there was + another time—” He stopped. “Anyway,” he laughed, “here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “But there was one night, one awful night,” began the girl. She trembled, + and he made this an added excuse for drawing her closer to him. “When I + felt you were in great peril, that you would surely die. And all through + the night I knelt by the window and looked toward Cuba and prayed, and + prayed to God to let you live.” + </p> + <p> + Chesterton bent his head and kissed the tips of her fingers. After a + moment he said: “Would you know what night it was? It might be curious if + I had been—” + </p> + <p> + “Would I know!” cried the girl. “It was eight days ago. The night of the + twelfth. An awful night!” + </p> + <p> + “The twelfth!” exclaimed Chesterton, and laughed and then begged her + pardon humbly. “I laughed because the twelfth,” he exclaimed, “was the + night peace was declared. The war was over. I’m sorry, but THAT night I + was riding toward you, thinking only of you. I was never for a moment in + danger.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Charmed Life, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHARMED LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 1821-h.htm or 1821-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/1821/ + +Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger + +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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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: A Charmed Life + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: May 12, 2006 [EBook #1821] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHARMED LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson + + + + + +A CHARMED LIFE + + +by Richard Harding Davis + + + +She loved him so, that when he went away to a little war in which his +country was interested she could not understand, nor quite forgive. + +As the correspondent of a newspaper, Chesterton had looked on at other +wars; when the yellow races met, when the infidel Turk spanked the +Christian Greek; and one he had watched from inside a British square, +where he was greatly alarmed lest he should be trampled upon by +terrified camels. This had happened before he and she had met. After +they met, she told him that what chances he had chosen to take before +he came into her life fell outside of her jurisdiction. But now that +his life belonged to her, this talk of his standing up to be shot at was +wicked. It was worse than wicked; it was absurd. + +When the Maine sank in Havana harbor and the word "war" was appearing +hourly in hysterical extras, Miss Armitage explained her position. + +"You mustn't think," she said, "that I am one of those silly girls who +would beg you not to go to war." + +At the moment of speaking her cheek happened to be resting against his, +and his arm was about her, so he humbly bent his head and kissed her, +and whispered very proudly and softly, "No, dearest." + +At which she withdrew from him frowning. + +"No! I'm not a bit like those girls," she proclaimed. "I merely tell you +YOU CAN'T GO! My gracious!" she cried, helplessly. She knew the words +fell short of expressing her distress, but her education had not +supplied her with exclamations of greater violence. + +"My goodness!" she cried. "How can you frighten me so? It's not like +you," she reproached him. "You are so unselfish, so noble. You are +always thinking of other people. How can you talk of going to war--to be +killed--to me? And now, now that you have made me love you so?" + +The hands, that when she talked seemed to him like swallows darting +and flashing in the sunlight, clutched his sleeve. The fingers, that +he would rather kiss than the lips of any other woman that ever lived, +clung to his arm. Their clasp reminded him of that of a drowning child +he had once lifted from the surf. + +"If you should die," whispered Miss Armitage. "What would I do. What +would I do!" + +"But my dearest," cried the young man. "My dearest ONE! I've GOT to go. +It's our own war. Everybody else will go," he pleaded. "Every man you +know, and they're going to fight, too. I'm going only to look on. That's +bad enough, isn't it, without sitting at home? You should be sorry I'm +not going to fight." + +"Sorry!" exclaimed the girl. "If you love me--" + +"If I love you," shouted the young man. His voice suggested that he was +about to shake her. "How dare you?" + +She abandoned that position and attacked from one more logical. + +"But why punish me?" she protested. "Do I want the war? Do I want to +free Cuba? No! I want YOU, and if you go, you are the one who is sure +to be killed. You are so big--and so brave, and you will be rushing in +wherever the fighting is, and then--then you will die." She raised +her eyes and looked at him as though seeing him from a great distance. +"And," she added fatefully, "I will die, too, or maybe I will have to +live, to live without you for years, for many miserable years." + +Fearfully, with great caution, as though in his joy in her he might +crush her in his hands, the young man drew her to him and held her +close. After a silence he whispered. "But, you know that nothing can +happen to me. Not now, that God has let me love you. He could not be so +cruel. He would not have given me such happiness to take it from me. A +man who loves you, as I love you, cannot come to any harm. And the man +YOU love is immortal, immune. He holds a charmed life. So long as you +love him, he must live." + +The eyes of the girl smiled up at him through her tears. She lifted her +lips to his. "Then you will never die!" she said. + +She held him away from her. "Listen!" she whispered. "What you say is +true. It must be true, because you are always right. I love you so that +nothing can harm you. My love will be a charm. It will hang around your +neck and protect you, and keep you, and bring you back to me. When you +are in danger my love will save you. For, while it lives, I live. When +it dies--" + +Chesterton kissed her quickly. + +"What happens then," he said, "doesn't matter." + +The war game had run its happy-go-lucky course briefly and brilliantly, +with "glory enough for all," even for Chesterton. For, in no previous +campaign had good fortune so persistently stood smiling at his elbow. At +each moment of the war that was critical, picturesque, dramatic, by some +lucky accident he found himself among those present. He could not lose. +Even when his press boat broke down at Cardenas, a Yankee cruiser and +two Spanish gun-boats, apparently for his sole benefit, engaged in an +impromptu duel within range of his megaphone. When his horse went lame, +the column with which he had wished to advance, passed forward to the +front unmolested, while the rear guard, to which he had been forced to +join his fortune, fought its way through the stifling underbrush. + +Between his news despatches, when he was not singing the praises of +his fellow-countrymen, or copying lists of their killed and wounded, he +wrote to Miss Armitage. His letters were scrawled on yellow copy +paper and consisted of repetitions of the three words, "I love you," +rearranged, illuminated, and intensified. + +Each letter began much in the same way. "The war is still going on. You +can read about it in the papers. What I want you to know is that I love +you as no man ever--" And so on for many pages. + +From her only one of the letters she wrote reached him. It was picked up +in the sand at Siboney after the medical corps, in an effort to wipe out +the yellow-fever, had set fire to the post-office tent. + +She had written it some weeks before from her summer home at Newport, +and in it she said: "When you went to the front, I thought no woman +could love more than I did then. But, now I know. At least I know one +girl who can. She cannot write it. She can never tell you. You must just +believe. + +"Each day I hear from you, for as soon as the paper comes, I take it +down to the rocks and read your cables, and I look south across the +ocean to Cuba, and try to see you in all that fighting and heat and +fever. But I am not afraid. For each morning I wake to find I love you +more; that it has grown stronger, more wonderful, more hard to bear. +And I know the charm I gave you grows with it, and is more powerful, +and that it will bring you back to me wearing new honors, 'bearing your +sheaves with you.' + +"As though I cared for your new honors. I want YOU, YOU, YOU--only YOU." + +When Santiago surrendered and the invading army settled down to arrange +terms of peace, and imbibe fever, and General Miles moved to Porto Rico, +Chesterton moved with him. + +In that pretty little island a command of regulars under a general of +the regular army had, in a night attack, driven back the Spaniards from +Adhuntas. The next afternoon as the column was in line of march, and the +men were shaking themselves into their accoutrements, a dusty, sweating +volunteer staff officer rode down the main street of Adhuntas, and with +the authority of a field marshal, held up his hand. + +"General Miles's compliments, sir," he panted, "and peace is declared!" + +Different men received the news each in a different fashion. Some +whirled their hats in the air and cheered. Those who saw promotion and +the new insignia on their straps vanish, swore deeply. Chesterton fell +upon his saddle-bags and began to distribute his possessions among +the enlisted men. After he had remobilized, his effects consisted of a +change of clothes, his camera, water-bottle, and his medicine case. In +his present state of health and spirits he could not believe he stood +in need of the medicine case, but it was a gift from Miss Armitage, and +carried with it a promise from him that he always would carry it. He +had "packed" it throughout the campaign, and for others it had proved of +value. + +"I take it you are leaving us," said an officer enviously. + +"I am leaving you so quick," cried Chesterton laughing, "that you won't +even see the dust. There's a transport starts from Mayaguez at six +to-morrow morning, and, if I don't catch it, this pony will die on the +wharf." + +"The road to Mayaguez is not healthy for Americans," said the general in +command. "I don't think I ought to let you go. The enemy does not know +peace is on yet, and there are a lot of guerillas--" + +Chesterton shook his head in pitying wonder. + +"Not let me go!" he exclaimed. "Why, General, you haven't enough men in +your command to stop me, and as for the Spaniards and guerillas--! I'm +homesick," cried the young man. "I'm so damned homesick that I am liable +to die of it before the transport gets me to Sandy Hook." + +"If you are shot up by an outpost," growled the general, "you will be +worse off than homesick. It's forty miles to Mayaguez. Better wait till +daylight. Where's the sense of dying, after the fighting's over?" + +"If I don't catch that transport I sure WILL die," laughed Chesterton. +His head was bent and he was tugging at his saddle girths. Apparently +the effort brought a deeper shadow to his tan, "but nothing else can +kill me! I have a charm, General," he exclaimed. + +"We hadn't noticed it," said the general. + +The staff officers, according to regulations, laughed. + +"It's not that kind of a charm," said Chesterton. "Good-by, General." + +The road was hardly more than a trail, but the moon made it as light +as day, and cast across it black tracings of the swinging vines and +creepers; while high in the air it turned the polished surface of the +palms into glittering silver. As he plunged into the cool depths of the +forest Chesterton threw up his arms and thanked God that he was moving +toward her. The luck that had accompanied him throughout the campaign +had held until the end. Had he been forced to wait for a transport, each +hour would have meant a month of torment, an arid, wasted place in his +life. As it was, with each eager stride of El Capitan, his little Porto +Rican pony, he was brought closer to her. He was so happy that as +he galloped through the dark shadows of the jungle or out into the +brilliant moonlight he shouted aloud and sang; and again as he urged El +Capitan to greater bursts of speed, he explained in joyous, breathless +phrases why it was that he urged him on. + +"For she is wonderful and most beautiful," he cried, "the most glorious +girl in all the world! And, if I kept her waiting, even for a moment, El +Capitan, I would be unworthy--and I might lose her! So you see we ride +for a great prize!" + +The Spanish column that, the night before, had been driven from +Adhuntas, now in ignorance of peace, occupied both sides of the valley +through which ran the road to Mayaguez, and in ambush by the road itself +had placed an outpost of two men. One was a sharp-shooter of the picked +corps of the Guardia Civile, and one a sergeant of the regiment that lay +hidden in the heights. If the Americans advanced toward Mayaguez, these +men were to wait until the head of the column drew abreast of them, when +they were to fire. The report of their rifles would be the signal for +those in the hill above to wipe out the memory of Adhuntas. + +Chesterton had been riding at a gallop, but, as he reached the place +where the men lay in ambush, he pulled El Capitan to a walk, and took +advantage of his first breathing spell to light his pipe. He had already +filled it, and was now fumbling in his pocket for his match-box. The +match-box was of wood such as one can buy, filled to the brim with +matches, for one penny. But it was a most precious possession. In the +early days of his interest in Miss Armitage, as they were once setting +forth upon a motor trip, she had handed it to him. + +"Why," he asked. + +"You always forget to bring any," she said simply, "and have to borrow +some." + +The other men in the car, knowing this to be a just reproof, laughed +sardonically, and at the laugh the girl had looked up in surprise. +Chesterton, seeing the look, understood that her act, trifling as +it was, had been sincere, had been inspired simply by thought of his +comfort. And he asked himself why young Miss Armitage should consider +his comfort, and why the fact that she did consider it should make him +so extremely happy. And he decided it must be because she loved him and +he loved her. + +Having arrived at that conclusion, he had asked her to marry him, and +upon the match-box had marked the date and the hour. Since then she had +given him many pretty presents, marked with her initials, marked with +his crest, with strange cabalistic mottoes that meant nothing to any one +save themselves. But the wooden matchbox was still the most valued of +his possessions. + +As he rode into the valley the rays of the moon fell fully upon him, and +exposed him to the outpost as pitilessly as though he had been held in +the circle of a search-light. + +The bronzed Mausers pushed cautiously through the screen of vines. There +was a pause, and the rifle of the sergeant wavered. When he spoke his +tone was one of disappointment. + +"He is a scout, riding alone," he said. + +"He is an officer," returned the sharp-shooter, excitedly. "The others +follow. We should fire now and give the signal." + +"He is no officer, he is a scout," repeated the sergeant. "They have +sent him ahead to study the trail and to seek us. He may be a league in +advance. If we shoot HIM, we only warn the others." + +Chesterton was within fifty yards. After an excited and anxious +search he had found the match-box in the wrong pocket. The eyes of +the sharp-shooter frowned along the barrel of his rifle. With his chin +pressed against the stock he whispered swiftly from the corner of his +lips, "He is an officer! I am aiming where the strap crosses his heart. +You aim at his belt. We fire together." + +The heat of the tropic night and the strenuous gallop had covered El +Capitan with a lather of sweat. The reins upon his neck dripped with it. +The gauntlets with which Chesterton held them were wet. As he raised the +matchbox it slipped from his fingers and fell noiselessly in the trail. +With an exclamation he dropped to the road and to his knees, and groping +in the dust began an eager search. + +The sergeant caught at the rifle of the sharpshooter, and pressed it +down. + +"Look!" he whispered. "He IS a scout. He is searching the trail for the +tracks of our ponies. If you fire they will hear it a league away." + +"But if he finds our trail and returns--" + +The sergeant shook his head. "I let him pass forward," he said grimly. +"He will never return." + +Chesterton pounced upon the half-buried matchbox, and in a panic lest he +might again lose it, thrust it inside his tunic. + +"Little do you know, El Capitan," he exclaimed breathlessly, as he +scrambled back into the saddle and lifted the pony into a gallop, "what +a narrow escape I had. I almost lost it." + +Toward midnight they came to a wooden bridge swinging above a ravine +in which a mountain stream, forty feet below, splashed over half-hidden +rocks, and the stepping stones of the ford. Even before the campaign +began the bridge had outlived its usefulness, and the unwonted burden of +artillery, and the vibrations of marching men had so shaken it that it +swayed like a house of cards. Threatened by its own weight, at the mercy +of the first tropic storm, it hung a death trap for the one who first +added to its burden. + +No sooner had El Capitan struck it squarely with his four hoofs, than he +reared and, whirling, sprang back to the solid earth. The suddenness of +his retreat had all but thrown Chesterton, but he regained his seat, and +digging the pony roughly with his spurs, pulled his head again toward +the bridge. + +"What are you shying at, now?" he panted. "That's a perfectly good +bridge." + +For a minute horse and man struggled for the mastery, the horse spinning +in short circles, the man pulling, tugging, urging him with knees and +spurs. The first round ended in a draw. There were two more rounds with +the advantage slightly in favor of El Capitan, for he did not approach +the bridge. + +The night was warm and the exertion violent. Chesterton, puzzled and +annoyed, paused to regain his breath and his temper. Below him, in +the ravine, the shallow waters of the ford called to him, suggesting a +pleasant compromise. He turned his eyes downward and saw hanging over +the water what appeared to be a white bird upon the lower limb of a +dead tree. He knew it to be an orchid, an especially rare orchid, and he +knew, also, that the orchid was the favorite flower of Miss Armitage. +In a moment he was on his feet, and with the reins over his arm, was +slipping down the bank, dragging El Capitan behind him. He ripped from +the dead tree the bark to which the orchid was clinging, and with wet +moss and grass packed it in his leather camera case. The camera he +abandoned on the path. He always could buy another camera; he could not +again carry a white orchid, plucked in the heart of the tropics on the +night peace was declared, to the girl he left behind him. Followed by El +Capitan, nosing and snuffing gratefully at the cool waters, he waded the +ford, and with his camera case swinging from his shoulder, galloped up +the opposite bank and back into the trail. + +A minute later, the bridge, unable to recover from the death blow struck +by El Capitan, went whirling into the ravine and was broken upon the +rocks below. Hearing the crash behind him, Chesterton guessed that in +the jungle a tree had fallen. + +They had started at six in the afternoon and had covered twenty of the +forty miles that lay between Adhuntas and Mayaguez, when, just at the +outskirts of the tiny village of Caguan, El Capitan stumbled, and when +he arose painfully, he again fell forward. + +Caguan was a little church, a little vine-covered inn, a dozen one-story +adobe houses shining in the moonlight like whitewashed sepulchres. They +faced a grass-grown plaza, in the centre of which stood a great wooden +cross. At one corner of the village was a corral, and in it many ponies. +At the sight Chesterton gave a cry of relief. A light showed through +the closed shutters of the inn, and when he beat with his whip upon the +door, from the adobe houses other lights shone, and white-clad figures +appeared in the moonlight. The landlord of the inn was a Spaniard, fat +and prosperous-looking, but for the moment his face was eloquent with +such distress and misery that the heart of the young man, who was at +peace with all the world, went instantly out to him. The Spaniard was +less sympathetic. When he saw the khaki suit and the campaign hat +he scowled, and ungraciously would have closed the door. Chesterton, +apologizing, pushed it open. His pony, he explained, had gone lame, and +he must have another, and at once. The landlord shrugged his shoulders. +These were war times, he said, and the American officer could take +what he liked. They in Caguan were noncombatants and could not protest. +Chesterton hastened to reassure him. The war, he announced, was over, +and were it not, he was no officer to issue requisitions. He intended +to pay for the pony. He unbuckled his belt and poured upon the table +a handful of Spanish doubloons. The landlord lowered the candle and +silently counted the gold pieces, and then calling to him two of his +fellow-villagers, crossed the tiny plaza and entered the corral. + +"The American pig," he whispered, "wishes to buy a pony. He tells me the +war is over; that Spain has surrendered. We know that must be a lie. It +is more probable he is a deserter. He claims he is a civilian, but that +also is a lie, for he is in uniform. You, Paul, sell him your pony, and +then wait for him at the first turn in the trail, and take it from him." + +"He is armed," protested the one called Paul. + +"You must not give him time to draw his revolver," ordered the landlord. +"You and Pedro will shoot him from the shadow. He is our country's +enemy, and it will be in a good cause. And he may carry despatches. If +we take them to the commandante at Mayaguez he will reward us." + +"And the gold pieces?" demanded the one called Paul. + +"We will divide them in three parts," said the landlord. + +In the front of the inn, surrounded by a ghostlike group that spoke +its suspicions, Chesterton was lifting his saddle from El Capitan and +rubbing the lame foreleg. It was not a serious sprain. A week would +set it right, but for that night the pony was useless. Impatiently, +Chesterton called across the plaza, begging the landlord to make haste. +He was eager to be gone, alarmed and fearful lest even this slight delay +should cause him to miss the transport. The thought was intolerable. But +he was also acutely conscious that he was very hungry, and he was too +old a campaigner to scoff at hunger. With the hope that he could find +something to carry with him and eat as he rode forward, he entered the +inn. + +The main room of the house was now in darkness, but a smaller room +adjoining it was lit by candles, and by a tiny taper floating before +a crucifix. In the light of the candles Chesterton made out a bed, a +priest bending over it, a woman kneeling beside it, and upon the bed the +little figure of a boy who tossed and moaned. As Chesterton halted and +waited hesitating, the priest strode past him, and in a voice dull and +flat with grief and weariness, ordered those at the door to bring the +landlord quickly. As one of the group leaped toward the corral, the +priest said to the others: "There is another attack. I have lost hope." + +Chesterton advanced and asked if he could be of service. The priest +shook his head. The child, he said, was the only son of the landlord, +and much beloved by him, and by all the village. He was now in the third +week of typhoid fever and the period of hemorrhages. Unless they could +be checked, the boy would die, and the priest, who for many miles of +mountain and forest was also the only doctor, had exhausted his store of +simple medicines. + +"Nothing can stop the hemorrhage," he protested wearily, "but the +strongest of drugs. And I have nothing!" + +Chesterton bethought him of the medicine case Miss Armitage had forced +upon him. "I have given opium to the men for dysentery," he said. "Would +opium help you?" + +The priest sprang at him and pushed him out of the door and toward the +saddle-bags. + +"My children," he cried, to the silent group in the plaza, "God has sent +a miracle!" + +After an hour at the bedside the priest said, "He will live," and +knelt, and the mother of the boy and the villagers knelt with him. When +Chesterton raised his eyes, he found that the landlord, who had been +silently watching while the two men struggled with death for the life +of his son, had disappeared. But he heard, leaving the village along the +trail to Mayaguez, the sudden clatter of a pony's hoofs. It moved like a +thing driven with fear. + +The priest strode out into the moonlight. In the recovery of the child +he saw only a demonstration of the efficacy of prayer, and he could +not too quickly bring home the lesson to his parishioners. Amid their +murmurs of wonder and gratitude Chesterton rode away. To the kindly care +of the priest he bequeathed El Capitan. With him, also, he left the gold +pieces which were to pay for the fresh pony. + +A quarter of a mile outside the village three white figures confronted +him. Two who stood apart in the shadow shrank from observation, but the +landlord, seated bareback upon a pony that from some late exertion was +breathing heavily, called to him to halt. + +"In the fashion of my country," he began grandiloquently, "we have come +this far to wish you God speed upon your journey." In the fashion of +the American he seized Chesterton by the hand. "I thank you, senor," he +murmured. + +"Not me," returned Chesterton. "But the one who made me 'pack' that +medicine chest. Thank her, for to-night I think it saved a life." + +The Spaniard regarded him curiously, fixing him with his eyes as though +deep in consideration. At last he smiled gravely. + +"You are right," he said. "Let us both remember her in our prayers." + +As Chesterton rode away the words remained gratefully in his memory and +filled him with pleasant thoughts. "The world," he mused, "is full of +just such kind and gentle souls." + + +After an interminable delay he reached Newport, and they escaped from +the others, and Miss Armitage and he ran down the lawn to the rocks, and +stood with the waves whispering at their feet. + +It was the moment for which each had so often longed, with which both +had so often tortured themselves by living in imagination, that now, +that it was theirs, they were fearful it might not be true. + +Finally, he said: "And the charm never failed! Indeed, it was wonderful! +It stood by me so obviously. For instance, the night before San Juan, +in the mill at El Poso, I slept on the same poncho with another +correspondent. I woke up with a raging appetite for bacon and coffee, +and he woke up out of his mind, and with a temperature of one hundred +and four. And again, I was standing by Capron's gun at El Caney, when +a shell took the three men who served it, and only scared ME. And there +was another time--" He stopped. "Anyway," he laughed, "here I am." + +"But there was one night, one awful night," began the girl. She +trembled, and he made this an added excuse for drawing her closer to +him. "When I felt you were in great peril, that you would surely die. +And all through the night I knelt by the window and looked toward Cuba +and prayed, and prayed to God to let you live." + +Chesterton bent his head and kissed the tips of her fingers. After a +moment he said: "Would you know what night it was? It might be curious +if I had been--" + +"Would I know!" cried the girl. "It was eight days ago. The night of the +twelfth. An awful night!" + +"The twelfth!" exclaimed Chesterton, and laughed and then begged her +pardon humbly. "I laughed because the twelfth," he exclaimed, "was the +night peace was declared. The war was over. I'm sorry, but THAT night I +was riding toward you, thinking only of you. I was never for a moment in +danger." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Charmed Life, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHARMED LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 1821.txt or 1821.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/1821/ + +Produced by Don Lainson + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Prepared by Don Lainson + + + + + +A CHARMED LIFE + + +She loved him so, that when he went away to a little war in which +his country was interested she could not understand, nor quite +forgive. + +As the correspondent of a newspaper, Chesterton had looked on at +other wars; when the yellow races met, when the infidel Turk +spanked the Christian Greek; and one he had watched from inside a +British square, where he was greatly alarmed lest he should be +trampled upon by terrified camels. This had happened before he and +she had met. After they met, she told him that what chances he had +chosen to take before he came into her life fell outside of her +jurisdiction. But now that his life belonged to her, this talk of +his standing up to be shot at was wicked. It was worse than +wicked; it was absurd. + +When the Maine sank in Havana harbor and the word "war" was +appearing hourly in hysterical extras, Miss Armitage explained her +position. + +"You mustn't think," she said, "that I am one of those silly girls +who would beg you not to go to war." + +At the moment of speaking her cheek happened to be resting against +his, and his arm was about her, so he humbly bent his head and +kissed her, and whispered very proudly and softly, "No, dearest." + +At which she withdrew from him frowning. + +"No! I'm not a bit like those girls," she proclaimed. "I merely +tell you YOU CAN'T GO! My gracious!" she cried, helplessly. She +knew the words fell short of expressing her distress, but her +education had not supplied her with exclamations of greater +violence. + +"My goodness!" she cried. "How can you frighten me so? It's not +like you," she reproached him. "You are so unselfish, so noble. +You are always thinking of other people. How can you talk of going +to war--to be killed--to me? And now, now that you have made me +love you so?" + +The hands, that when she talked seemed to him like swallows darting +and flashing in the sunlight, clutched his sleeve. The fingers, +that he would rather kiss than the lips of any other woman that +ever lived, clung to his arm. Their clasp reminded him of that of +a drowning child he had once lifted from the surf. + +"If you should die," whispered Miss Armitage. "What would I do. +What would I do!" + +"But my dearest," cried the young man. "My dearest ONE! I've GOT +to go. It's our own war. Everybody else will go," he pleaded. +"Every man you know, and they're going to fight, too. I'm going +only to look on. That's bad enough, isn't it, without sitting at +home? You should be sorry I'm not going to fight." + +"Sorry!" exclaimed the girl. "If you love me--" + +"If I love you," shouted the young man. His voice suggested that +he was about to shake her. "How dare you?" + +She abandoned that position and attacked from one more logical. + +"But why punish me?" she protested. "Do I want the war? Do I want +to free Cuba? No! I want YOU, and if you go, you are the one who +is sure to be killed. You are so big--and so brave, and you will +be rushing in wherever the fighting is, and then--then you will +die." She raised her eyes and looked at him as though seeing him +from a great distance. "And," she added fatefully, "I will die, +too, or maybe I will have to live, to live without you for years, +for many miserable years." + +Fearfully, with great caution, as though in his joy in her he might +crush her in his hands, the young man drew her to him and held her +close. After a silence he whispered. "But, you know that nothing +can happen to me. Not now, that God has let me love you. He could +not be so cruel. He would not have given me such happiness to take +it from me. A man who loves you, as I love you, cannot come to any +harm. And the man YOU love is immortal, immune. He holds a +charmed life. So long as you love him, he must live." + +The eyes of the girl smiled up at him through her tears. She +lifted her lips to his. "Then you will never die!" she said. + +She held him away from her. "Listen!" she whispered. "What you +say is true. It must be true, because you are always right. I +love you so that nothing can harm you. My love will be a charm. +It will hang around your neck and protect you, and keep you, and +bring you back to me. When you are in danger my love will save +you. For, while it lives, I live. When it dies--" + +Chesterton kissed her quickly. + +"What happens then," he said, "doesn't matter." + +The war game had run its happy-go-lucky course briefly and +brilliantly, with "glory enough for all," even for Chesterton. +For, in no previous campaign had good fortune so persistently stood +smiling at his elbow. At each moment of the war that was critical, +picturesque, dramatic, by some lucky accident he found himself +among those present. He could not lose. Even when his press boat +broke down at Cardenas, a Yankee cruiser and two Spanish gun-boats, +apparently for his sole benefit, engaged in an impromptu duel +within range of his megaphone. When his horse went lame, the +column with which he had wished to advance, passed forward to the +front unmolested, while the rear guard, to which he had been forced +to join his fortune, fought its way through the stifling +underbrush. + +Between his news despatches, when he was not singing the praises of +his fellow-countrymen, or copying lists of their killed and +wounded, he wrote to Miss Armitage. His letters were scrawled on +yellow copy paper and consisted of repetitions of the three words, +"I love you," rearranged, illuminated, and intensified. + +Each letter began much in the same way. "The war is still going +on. You can read about it in the papers. What I want you to know +is that I love you as no man ever--" And so on for many pages. + +From her only one of the letters she wrote reached him. It was +picked up in the sand at Siboney after the medical corps, in an +effort to wipe out the yellow-fever, had set fire to the post- +office tent. + +She had written it some weeks before from her summer home at +Newport, and in it she said: "When you went to the front, I thought +no woman could love more than I did then. But, now I know. At +least I know one girl who can. She cannot write it. She can never +tell you. You must just believe. + +"Each day I hear from you, for as soon as the paper comes, I take +it down to the rocks and read your cables, and I look south across +the ocean to Cuba, and try to see you in all that fighting and heat +and fever. But I am not afraid. For each morning I wake to find I +love you more; that it has grown stronger, more wonderful, more +hard to bear. And I know the charm I gave you grows with it, and +is more powerful, and that it will bring you back to me wearing new +honors, 'bearing your sheaves with you.' + +"As though I cared for your new honors. I want YOU, YOU, YOU--only +YOU." + +When Santiago surrendered and the invading army settled down to +arrange terms of peace, and imbibe fever, and General Miles moved +to Porto Rico, Chesterton moved with him. + +In that pretty little island a command of regulars under a general +of the regular army had, in a night attack, driven back the +Spaniards from Adhuntas. The next afternoon as the column was in +line of march, and the men were shaking themselves into their +accoutrements, a dusty, sweating volunteer staff officer rode down +the main street of Adhuntas, and with the authority of a field +marshal, held up his hand. + +"General Miles's compliments, sir," he panted, "and peace is +declared!" + +Different men received the news each in a different fashion. Some +whirled their hats in the air and cheered. Those who saw promotion +and the new insignia on their straps vanish, swore deeply. +Chesterton fell upon his saddle-bags and began to distribute his +possessions among the enlisted men. After he had remobilized, his +effects consisted of a change of clothes, his camera, water-bottle, +and his medicine case. In his present state of health and spirits +he could not believe he stood in need of the medicine case, but it +was a gift from Miss Armitage, and carried with it a promise from +him that he always would carry it. He had "packed" it throughout +the campaign, and for others it had proved of value. + +"I take it you are leaving us," said an officer enviously. + +"I am leaving you so quick," cried Chesterton laughing, "that you +won't even see the dust. There's a transport starts from Mayaguez +at six to-morrow morning, and, if I don't catch it, this pony will +die on the wharf." + +"The road to Mayaguez is not healthy for Americans," said the +general in command. "I don't think I ought to let you go. The +enemy does not know peace is on yet, and there are a lot of +guerillas--" + +Chesterton shook his head in pitying wonder. + +"Not let me go!" he exclaimed. "Why, General, you haven't enough +men in your command to stop me, and as for the Spaniards and +guerillas--! I'm homesick," cried the young man. "I'm so damned +homesick that I am liable to die of it before the transport gets me +to Sandy Hook." + +"If you are shot up by an outpost," growled the general, "you will +be worse off than homesick. It's forty miles to Mayaguez. Better +wait till daylight. Where's the sense of dying, after the +fighting's over?" + +"If I don't catch that transport I sure WILL die," laughed +Chesterton. His head was bent and he was tugging at his saddle +girths. Apparently the effort brought a deeper shadow to his tan, +"but nothing else can kill me! I have a charm, General," he +exclaimed. + +"We hadn't noticed it," said the general. + +The staff officers, according to regulations, laughed. + +"It's not that kind of a charm," said Chesterton. "Good-by, +General." + +The road was hardly more than a trail, but the moon made it as +light as day, and cast across it black tracings of the swinging +vines and creepers; while high in the air it turned the polished +surface of the palms into glittering silver. As he plunged into +the cool depths of the forest Chesterton threw up his arms and +thanked God that he was moving toward her. The luck that had +accompanied him throughout the campaign had held until the end. +Had he been forced to wait for a transport, each hour would have +meant a month of torment, an arid, wasted place in his life. As it +was, with each eager stride of El Capitan, his little Porto Rican +pony, he was brought closer to her. He was so happy that as he +galloped through the dark shadows of the jungle or out into the +brilliant moonlight he shouted aloud and sang; and again as he +urged El Capitan to greater bursts of speed, he explained in +joyous, breathless phrases why it was that he urged him on. + +"For she is wonderful and most beautiful," he cried, "the most +glorious girl in all the world! And, if I kept her waiting, even +for a moment, El Capitan, I would be unworthy--and I might lose +her! So you see we ride for a great prize!" + +The Spanish column that, the night before, had been driven from +Adhuntas, now in ignorance of peace, occupied both sides of the +valley through which ran the road to Mayaguez, and in ambush by the +road itself had placed an outpost of two men. One was a sharp- +shooter of the picked corps of the Guardia Civile, and one a +sergeant of the regiment that lay hidden in the heights. If the +Americans advanced toward Mayaguez, these men were to wait until +the head of the column drew abreast of them, when they were to +fire. The report of their rifles would be the signal for those in +the hill above to wipe out the memory of Adhuntas. + +Chesterton had been riding at a gallop, but, as he reached the +place where the men lay in ambush, he pulled El Capitan to a walk, +and took advantage of his first breathing spell to light his pipe. +He had already filled it, and was now fumbling in his pocket for +his match-box. The match-box was of wood such as one can buy, +filled to the brim with matches, for one penny. But it was a most +precious possession. In the early days of his interest in Miss +Armitage, as they were once setting forth upon a motor trip, she +had handed it to him. + +"Why," he asked. + +"You always forget to bring any," she said simply, "and have to +borrow some." + +The other men in the car, knowing this to be a just reproof, +laughed sardonically, and at the laugh the girl had looked up in +surprise. Chesterton, seeing the look, understood that her act, +trifling as it was, had been sincere, had been inspired simply by +thought of his comfort. And he asked himself why young Miss +Armitage should consider his comfort, and why the fact that she did +consider it should make him so extremely happy. And he decided it +must be because she loved him and he loved her. + +Having arrived at that conclusion, he had asked her to marry him, +and upon the match-box had marked the date and the hour. Since +then she had given him many pretty presents, marked with her +initials, marked with his crest, with strange cabalistic mottoes +that meant nothing to any one save themselves. But the wooden +matchbox was still the most valued of his possessions. + +As he rode into the valley the rays of the moon fell fully upon +him, and exposed him to the outpost as pitilessly as though he had +been held in the circle of a search-light. + +The bronzed Mausers pushed cautiously through the screen of vines. +There was a pause, and the rifle of the sergeant wavered. When he +spoke his tone was one of disappointment. + +"He is a scout, riding alone," he said. + +"He is an officer," returned the sharp-shooter, excitedly. "The +others follow. We should fire now and give the signal." + +"He is no officer, he is a scout," repeated the sergeant. "They +have sent him ahead to study the trail and to seek us. He may be a +league in advance. If we shoot HIM, we only warn the others." + +Chesterton was within fifty yards. After an excited and anxious +search he had found the match-box in the wrong pocket. The eyes of +the sharp-shooter frowned along the barrel of his rifle. With his +chin pressed against the stock he whispered swiftly from the corner +of his lips, "He is an officer! I am aiming where the strap +crosses his heart. You aim at his belt. We fire together." + +The heat of the tropic night and the strenuous gallop had covered +El Capitan with a lather of sweat. The reins upon his neck dripped +with it. The gauntlets with which Chesterton held them were wet. +As he raised the matchbox it slipped from his fingers and fell +noiselessly in the trail. With an exclamation he dropped to the +road and to his knees, and groping in the dust began an eager +search. + +The sergeant caught at the rifle of the sharpshooter, and pressed +it down. + +"Look!" he whispered. "He IS a scout. He is searching the trail +for the tracks of our ponies. If you fire they will hear it a +league away." + +"But if he finds our trail and returns--" + +The sergeant shook his head. "I let him pass forward," he said +grimly. "He will never return." + +Chesterton pounced upon the half-buried matchbox, and in a panic +lest he might again lose it, thrust it inside his tunic. + +"Little do you know, El Capitan," he exclaimed breathlessly, as he +scrambled back into the saddle and lifted the pony into a gallop, +"what a narrow escape I had. I almost lost it." + +Toward midnight they came to a wooden bridge swinging above a +ravine in which a mountain stream, forty feet below, splashed over +half-hidden rocks, and the stepping stones of the ford. Even +before the campaign began the bridge had outlived its usefulness, +and the unwonted burden of artillery, and the vibrations of +marching men had so shaken it that it swayed like a house of cards. +Threatened by its own weight, at the mercy of the first tropic +storm, it hung a death trap for the one who first added to its +burden. + +No sooner had El Capitan struck it squarely with his four hoofs, +than he reared and, whirling, sprang back to the solid earth. The +suddenness of his retreat had all but thrown Chesterton, but he +regained his seat, and digging the pony roughly with his spurs, +pulled his head again toward the bridge. + +"What are you shying at, now?" he panted. "That's a perfectly good +bridge." + +For a minute horse and man struggled for the mastery, the horse +spinning in short circles, the man pulling, tugging, urging him +with knees and spurs. The first round ended in a draw. There were +two more rounds with the advantage slightly in favor of El Capitan, +for he did not approach the bridge. + +The night was warm and the exertion violent. Chesterton, puzzled +and annoyed, paused to regain his breath and his temper. Below +him, in the ravine, the shallow waters of the ford called to him, +suggesting a pleasant compromise. He turned his eyes downward and +saw hanging over the water what appeared to be a white bird upon +the lower limb of a dead tree. He knew it to be an orchid, an +especially rare orchid, and he knew, also, that the orchid was the +favorite flower of Miss Armitage. In a moment he was on his feet, +and with the reins over his arm, was slipping down the bank, +dragging El Capitan behind him. He ripped from the dead tree the +bark to which the orchid was clinging, and with wet moss and grass +packed it in his leather camera case. The camera he abandoned on +the path. He always could buy another camera; he could not again +carry a white orchid, plucked in the heart of the tropics on the +night peace was declared, to the girl he left behind him. Followed +by El Capitan, nosing and snuffing gratefully at the cool waters, +he waded the ford, and with his camera case swinging from his +shoulder, galloped up the opposite bank and back into the trail. + +A minute later, the bridge, unable to recover from the death blow +struck by El Capitan, went whirling into the ravine and was broken +upon the rocks below. Hearing the crash behind him, Chesterton +guessed that in the jungle a tree had fallen. + +They had started at six in the afternoon and had covered twenty of +the forty miles that lay between Adhuntas and Mayaguez, when, just +at the outskirts of the tiny village of Caguan, El Capitan +stumbled, and when he arose painfully, he again fell forward. + +Caguan was a little church, a little vine-covered inn, a dozen one- +story adobe houses shining in the moonlight like whitewashed +sepulchres. They faced a grass-grown plaza, in the centre of which +stood a great wooden cross. At one corner of the village was a +corral, and in it many ponies. At the sight Chesterton gave a cry +of relief. A light showed through the closed shutters of the inn, +and when he beat with his whip upon the door, from the adobe houses +other lights shone, and white-clad figures appeared in the +moonlight. The landlord of the inn was a Spaniard, fat and +prosperous-looking, but for the moment his face was eloquent with +such distress and misery that the heart of the young man, who was +at peace with all the world, went instantly out to him. The +Spaniard was less sympathetic. When he saw the khaki suit and the +campaign hat he scowled, and ungraciously would have closed the +door. Chesterton, apologizing, pushed it open. His pony, he +explained, had gone lame, and he must have another, and at once. +The landlord shrugged his shoulders. These were war times, he +said, and the American officer could take what he liked. They in +Caguan were noncombatants and could not protest. Chesterton +hastened to reassure him. The war, he announced, was over, and +were it not, he was no officer to issue requisitions. He intended +to pay for the pony. He unbuckled his belt and poured upon the +table a handful of Spanish doubloons. The landlord lowered the +candle and silently counted the gold pieces, and then calling to +him two of his fellow-villagers, crossed the tiny plaza and entered +the corral. + +"The American pig," he whispered, "wishes to buy a pony. He tells +me the war is over; that Spain has surrendered. We know that must +be a lie. It is more probable he is a deserter. He claims he is a +civilian, but that also is a lie, for he is in uniform. You, Paul, +sell him your pony, and then wait for him at the first turn in the +trail, and take it from him." + +"He is armed," protested the one called Paul. + +"You must not give him time to draw his revolver," ordered the +landlord. "You and Pedro will shoot him from the shadow. He is +our country's enemy, and it will be in a good cause. And he may +carry despatches. If we take them to the commandante at Mayaguez +he will reward us." + +"And the gold pieces?" demanded the one called Paul. + +"We will divide them in three parts," said the landlord. + +In the front of the inn, surrounded by a ghostlike group that spoke +its suspicions, Chesterton was lifting his saddle from El Capitan +and rubbing the lame foreleg. It was not a serious sprain. A week +would set it right, but for that night the pony was useless. +Impatiently, Chesterton called across the plaza, begging the +landlord to make haste. He was eager to be gone, alarmed and +fearful lest even this slight delay should cause him to miss the +transport. The thought was intolerable. But he was also acutely +conscious that he was very hungry, and he was too old a campaigner +to scoff at hunger. With the hope that he could find something to +carry with him and eat as he rode forward, he entered the inn. + +The main room of the house was now in darkness, but a smaller room +adjoining it was lit by candles, and by a tiny taper floating +before a crucifix. In the light of the candles Chesterton made out +a bed, a priest bending over it, a woman kneeling beside it, and +upon the bed the little figure of a boy who tossed and moaned. As +Chesterton halted and waited hesitating, the priest strode past +him, and in a voice dull and flat with grief and weariness, ordered +those at the door to bring the landlord quickly. As one of the +group leaped toward the corral, the priest said to the others: +"There is another attack. I have lost hope." + +Chesterton advanced and asked if he could be of service. The +priest shook his head. The child, he said, was the only son of the +landlord, and much beloved by him, and by all the village. He was +now in the third week of typhoid fever and the period of +hemorrhages. Unless they could be checked, the boy would die, and +the priest, who for many miles of mountain and forest was also the +only doctor, had exhausted his store of simple medicines. + +"Nothing can stop the hemorrhage," he protested wearily, "but the +strongest of drugs. And I have nothing!" + +Chesterton bethought him of the medicine case Miss Armitage had +forced upon him. "I have given opium to the men for dysentery," he +said. "Would opium help you?" + +The priest sprang at him and pushed him out of the door and toward +the saddle-bags. + +"My children," he cried, to the silent group in the plaza, "God has +sent a miracle!" + +After an hour at the bedside the priest said, "He will live," and +knelt, and the mother of the boy and the villagers knelt with him. +When Chesterton raised his eyes, he found that the landlord, who +had been silently watching while the two men struggled with death +for the life of his son, had disappeared. But he heard, leaving +the village along the trail to Mayaguez, the sudden clatter of a +pony's hoofs. It moved like a thing driven with fear. + +The priest strode out into the moonlight. In the recovery of the +child he saw only a demonstration of the efficacy of prayer, and he +could not too quickly bring home the lesson to his parishioners. +Amid their murmurs of wonder and gratitude Chesterton rode away. +To the kindly care of the priest he bequeathed El Capitan. With +him, also, he left the gold pieces which were to pay for the fresh +pony. + +A quarter of a mile outside the village three white figures +confronted him. Two who stood apart in the shadow shrank from +observation, but the landlord, seated bareback upon a pony that +from some late exertion was breathing heavily, called to him to +halt. + +"In the fashion of my country," he began grandiloquently, "we have +come this far to wish you God speed upon your journey." In the +fashion of the American he seized Chesterton by the hand. "I thank +you, senor," he murmured. + +"Not me," returned Chesterton. "But the one who made me 'pack' +that medicine chest. Thank her, for to-night I think it saved a +life." + +The Spaniard regarded him curiously, fixing him with his eyes as +though deep in consideration. At last he smiled gravely. + +"You are right," he said. "Let us both remember her in our +prayers." + +As Chesterton rode away the words remained gratefully in his memory +and filled him with pleasant thoughts. "The world," he mused, "is +full of just such kind and gentle souls." + + +After an interminable delay he reached Newport, and they escaped +from the others, and Miss Armitage and he ran down the lawn to the +rocks, and stood with the waves whispering at their feet. + +It was the moment for which each had so often longed, with which +both had so often tortured themselves by living in imagination, +that now, that it was theirs, they were fearful it might not be +true. + +Finally, he said: "And the charm never failed! Indeed, it was +wonderful! It stood by me so obviously. For instance, the night +before San Juan, in the mill at El Poso, I slept on the same poncho +with another correspondent. I woke up with a raging appetite for +bacon and coffee, and he woke up out of his mind, and with a +temperature of one hundred and four. And again, I was standing by +Capron's gun at El Caney, when a shell took the three men who +served it, and only scared ME. And there was another time--" He +stopped. "Anyway," he laughed, "here I am." + +"But there was one night, one awful night," began the girl. She +trembled, and he made this an added excuse for drawing her closer +to him. "When I felt you were in great peril, that you would +surely die. And all through the night I knelt by the window and +looked toward Cuba and prayed, and prayed to God to let you live." + +Chesterton bent his head and kissed the tips of her fingers. After +a moment he said: "Would you know what night it was? It might be +curious if I had been--" + +"Would I know!" cried the girl. "It was eight days ago. The night +of the twelfth. An awful night!" + +"The twelfth!" exclaimed Chesterton, and laughed and then begged +her pardon humbly. "I laughed because the twelfth," he exclaimed, +"was the night peace was declared. The war was over. I'm sorry, +but THAT night I was riding toward you, thinking only of you. I +was never for a moment in danger." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext A Charmed Life by Richard Harding Davis + diff --git a/old/chmlf10.zip b/old/chmlf10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f640f85 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/chmlf10.zip |