diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:55 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:55 -0700 |
| commit | c54626123db4a906afac2e18b395f71a9f4be6bf (patch) | |
| tree | 46c4b130f6cce0ff18fa5ff8ac842b6749881036 /1877-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '1877-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 1877-h/1877-h.htm | 5798 |
1 files changed, 5798 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/1877-h/1877-h.htm b/1877-h/1877-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d67a02b --- /dev/null +++ b/1877-h/1877-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5798 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Mountain Woman, by Elia Wilkinson Peattie + </title> + <style> + + 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;} + 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;} +/* Poetry */ +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ +/* .poetry {display: inline-block;} */ +/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ +@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } +.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Mountain Woman and Others, by +(AKA Elia Wilkinson) Elia W. Peattie</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Mountain Woman and Others</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: (AKA Elia Wilkinson) Elia W. Peattie</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 23, 2008 [EBook #1877]<br /> +[Most recently updated: April 20, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Judy Boss, and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MOUNTAIN WOMAN AND OTHERS ***</div> + + + + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A MOUNTAIN WOMAN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Elia Wilkinson Peattie + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h4> + To<br /><br /> My best Friend, and kindest Critic,<br /><br /> My Husband. + </h4> + <div class="mynote"> + <p> + Transcriber's Note: I have omitted signature designations and have + closed abbreviations, e.g., “do n't” becoming “don't,” etc. In addition, + I have made the following changes to the text: + </p> +<table> + <tr><th>PAGE</th><th>LINE</th><th>ORIGINAL</th><th>CHANGED TO</th></tr> + <tr><td>38</td><td>19</td><td>seem to</td><td>seemed to</td></tr> + <tr><td>47</td><td>9</td><td>beafsteak</td><td>beefsteak</td></tr> + <tr><td>56</td><td>4</td><td>divertisement</td><td>divertissement</td></tr> + <tr><td>91</td><td>19</td><td>divertisement</td><td>divertissement</td></tr> + <tr><td>155</td><td>17</td><td>scarfs.</td><td>scarves.</td></tr> + <tr><td>169</td><td>20</td><td>scarfs,</td><td>scarves,</td></tr> +</table> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a id="link2H_FORE"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + FOREWORD. + </h2> + <p> + MOST of the tales in this little book have been printed before. “A + Mountain Woman” appeared in Harper's Weekly, as did “The Three Johns” and + “A Resuscitation.” “Jim Lancy's Waterloo” was printed in the Cosmopolitan, + “A Michigan Man” in Lippincott's, and “Up the Gulch” in Two Tales. The + courtesy of these periodicals in permitting the stories to be republished + is cordially acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + E. W. P. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_FORE"> FOREWORD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> A Mountain Woman </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> A Resuscitation </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> Two Pioneers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> A Michigan Man </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> A Lady of Yesterday </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + A Mountain Woman + </h2> + <p> + IF Leroy Brainard had not had such a respect for literature, he would have + written a book. + </p> + <p> + As it was, he played at being an architect—and succeeded in being a + charming fellow. My sister Jessica never lost an opportunity of laughing + at his endeavors as an architect. + </p> + <p> + “You can build an enchanting villa, but what would you do with a + cathedral?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never have a chance at a cathedral,” he would reply. “And, + besides, it always seems to me so material and so impertinent to build a + little structure of stone and wood in which to worship God!” + </p> + <p> + You see what he was like? He was frivolous, yet one could never tell when + he would become eloquently earnest. + </p> + <p> + Brainard went off suddenly Westward one day. I suspected that Jessica was + at the bottom of it, but I asked no questions; and I did not hear from him + for months. Then I got a letter from Colorado. + </p> + <p> + “I have married a mountain woman,” he wrote. “None of your puny breed of + modern femininity, but a remnant left over from the heroic ages,—a + primitive woman, grand and vast of spirit, capable of true and steadfast + wifehood. No sophistry about her; no knowledge even that there is + sophistry. Heavens! man, do you remember the rondeaux and triolets I used + to write to those pretty creatures back East? It would take a Saga man of + the old Norseland to write for my mountain woman. If I were an artist, I + would paint her with the north star in her locks and her feet on purple + cloud. I suppose you are at the Pier. I know you usually are at this + season. At any rate, I shall direct this letter thither, and will follow + close after it. I want my wife to see something of life. And I want her to + meet your sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” cried Jessica, when I read the letter to her; “I don't know + that I care to meet anything quite so gigantic as that mountain woman. I'm + one of the puny breed of modern femininity, you know. I don't think my + nerves can stand the encounter.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jessica!” I protested. She blushed a little. + </p> + <p> + “Don't think bad of me, Victor. But, you see, I've a little scrap-book of + those triolets upstairs.” Then she burst into a peal of irresistible + laughter. “I'm not laughing because I am piqued,” she said frankly. + “Though any one will admit that it is rather irritating to have a man who + left you in a blasted condition recover with such extraordinary + promptness. As a philanthropist, one of course rejoices, but as a woman, + Victor, it must be admitted that one has a right to feel annoyed. But, + honestly, I am not ungenerous, and I am going to do him a favor. I shall + write, and urge him not to bring his wife here. A primitive woman, with + the north star in her hair, would look well down there in the Casino + eating a pineapple ice, wouldn't she? It's all very well to have a soul, + you know; but it won't keep you from looking like a guy among women who + have good dressmakers. I shudder at the thought of what the poor thing + will suffer if he brings her here.” + </p> + <p> + Jessica wrote, as she said she would; but, for all that, a fortnight later + she was walking down the wharf with the “mountain woman,” and I was + sauntering beside Leroy. At dinner Jessica gave me no chance to talk with + our friend's wife, and I only caught the quiet contralto tones of her + voice now and then contrasting with Jessica's vivacious soprano. A + drizzling rain came up from the east with nightfall. Little groups of + shivering men and women sat about in the parlors at the card-tables, and + one blond woman sang love songs. The Brainards were tired with their + journey, and left us early. When they were gone, Jessica burst into + eulogy. + </p> + <p> + “That is the first woman,” she declared, “I ever met who would make a fit + heroine for a book.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will not feel under obligations to educate her, as you + insinuated the other day?” + </p> + <p> + “Educate her! I only hope she will help me to unlearn some of the things I + know. I never saw such simplicity. It is antique!” + </p> + <p> + “You're sure it's not mere vacuity?” “Victor! How can you? But you haven't + talked with her. You must to-morrow. Good-night.” She gathered up her + trailing skirts and started down the corridor. Suddenly she turned back. + “For Heaven's sake!” she whispered, in an awed tone, “I never even noticed + what she had on!” + </p> + <p> + The next morning early we made up a riding party, and I rode with Mrs. + Brainard. She was as tall as I, and sat in her saddle as if quite + unconscious of her animal. The road stretched hard and inviting under our + horses' feet. The wind smelled salt. The sky was ragged with gray masses + of cloud scudding across the blue. I was beginning to glow with + exhilaration, when suddenly my companion drew in her horse. + </p> + <p> + “If you do not mind, we will go back,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Her tone was dejected. I thought she was tired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she protested, when I apologized for my thoughtlessness in + bringing her so far. “I'm not tired. I can ride all day. Where I come + from, we have to ride if we want to go anywhere; but here there seems to + be no particular place to—to reach.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you so utilitarian?” I asked, laughingly. “Must you always have some + reason for everything you do? I do so many things just for the mere + pleasure of doing them, I'm afraid you will have a very poor opinion of + me.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not what I mean,” she said, flushing, and turning her large gray + eyes on me. “You must not think I have a reason for everything I do.” She + was very earnest, and it was evident that she was unacquainted with the + art of making conversation. “But what I mean,” she went on, “is that there + is no place—no end—to reach.” She looked back over her + shoulder toward the west, where the trees marked the sky line, and an + expression of loss and dissatisfaction came over her face. “You see,” she + said, apologetically, “I'm used to different things—to the + mountains. I have never been where I could not see them before in my + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I see! I suppose it is odd to look up and find them not there.” + </p> + <p> + “It's like being lost, this not having anything around you. At least, I + mean,” she continued slowly, as if her thought could not easily put itself + in words,—“I mean it seems as if a part of the world had been taken + down. It makes you feel lonesome, as if you were living after the world + had begun to die.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get used to it in a few days. It seems very beautiful to me here. + And then you will have so much life to divert you.” + </p> + <p> + “Life? But there is always that everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean men and women.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Still, I am not used to them. I think I might be not—not very + happy with them. They might think me queer. I think I would like to show + your sister the mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “She has seen them often.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she told me. But I don't mean those pretty green hills such as we saw + coming here. They are not like my mountains. I like mountains that go + beyond the clouds, with terrible shadows in the hollows, and belts of snow + lying in the gorges where the sun cannot reach, and the snow is blue in + the sunshine, or shining till you think it is silver, and the mist so + wonderful all about it, changing each moment and drifting up and down, + that you cannot tell what name to give the colors. These mountains of + yours here in the East are so quiet; mine are shouting all the time, with + the pines and the rivers. The echoes are so loud in the valley that + sometimes, when the wind is rising, we can hardly hear a man talk unless + he raises his voice. There are four cataracts near where I live, and they + all have different voices, just as people do; and one of them is happy—a + little white cataract—and it falls where the sun shines earliest, + and till night it is shining. But the others only get the sun now and + then, and they are more noisy and cruel. One of them is always in the + shadow, and the water looks black. That is partly because the rocks all + underneath it are black. It falls down twenty great ledges in a gorge with + black sides, and a white mist dances all over it at every leap. I tell + father the mist is the ghost of the waters. No man ever goes there; it is + too cold. The chill strikes through one, and makes your heart feel as if + you were dying. But all down the side of the mountain, toward the south + and the west, the sun shines on the granite and draws long points of light + out of it. Father tells me soldiers marching look that way when the sun + strikes on their bayonets. Those are the kind of mountains I mean, Mr. + Grant.” + </p> + <p> + She was looking at me with her face transfigured, as if it, like the + mountains she told me of, had been lying in shadow, and waiting for the + dazzling dawn. + </p> + <p> + “I had a terrible dream once,” she went on; “the most terrible dream ever + I had. I dreamt that the mountains had all been taken down, and that I + stood on a plain to which there was no end. The sky was burning up, and + the grass scorched brown from the heat, and it was twisting as if it were + in pain. And animals, but no other person save myself, only wild things, + were crouching and looking up at that sky. They could not run because + there was no place to which to go.” + </p> + <p> + “You were having a vision of the last man,” I said. “I wonder myself + sometimes whether this old globe of ours is going to collapse suddenly and + take us with her, or whether we will disappear through slow disastrous + ages of fighting and crushing, with hunger and blight to help us to the + end. And then, at the last, perhaps, some luckless fellow, stronger than + the rest, will stand amid the ribs of the rotting earth and go mad.” + </p> + <p> + The woman's eyes were fixed on me, large and luminous. “Yes,” she said; + “he would go mad from the lonesomeness of it. He would be afraid to be + left alone like that with God. No one would want to be taken into God's + secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “And our last man,” I went on, “would have to stand there on that swaying + wreck till even the sound of the crumbling earth ceased. And he would try + to find a voice and would fail, because silence would have come again. And + then the light would go out—” + </p> + <p> + The shudder that crept over her made me stop, ashamed of myself. + </p> + <p> + “You talk like father,” she said, with a long-drawn breath. Then she + looked up suddenly at the sun shining through a rift in those reckless + gray clouds, and put out one hand as if to get it full of the headlong + rollicking breeze. “But the earth is not dying,” she cried. “It is well + and strong, and it likes to go round and round among all the other worlds. + It likes the sun and moon; they are all good friends; and it likes the + people who live on it. Maybe it is they instead of the fire within who + keep it warm; or maybe it is warm just from always going, as we are when + we run. We are young, you and I, Mr. Grant, and Leroy, and your beautiful + sister, and the world is young too!” Then she laughed a strong splendid + laugh, which had never had the joy taken out of it with drawing-room + restrictions; and I laughed too, and felt that we had become very good + companions indeed, and found myself warming to the joy of companionship as + I had not since I was a boy at school. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon the four of us sat at a table in the Casino together. The + Casino, as every one knows, is a place to amuse yourself. If you have a + duty, a mission, or an aspiration, you do not take it there with you, it + would be so obviously out of place; if poverty is ahead of you, you forget + it; if you have brains, you hasten to conceal them; they would be a + serious encumbrance. + </p> + <p> + There was a bubbling of conversation, a rustle and flutter such as there + always is where there are many women. All the place was gay with flowers + and with gowns as bright as the flowers. I remembered the apprehensions of + my sister, and studied Leroy's wife to see how she fitted into this highly + colored picture. She was the only woman in the room who seemed to wear + draperies. The jaunty slash and cut of fashionable attire were missing in + the long brown folds of cloth that enveloped her figure. I felt certain + that even from Jessica's standpoint she could not be called a guy. + Picturesque she might be, past the point of convention, but she was not + ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + “Judith takes all this very seriously,” said Leroy, laughingly. “I suppose + she would take even Paris seriously.” + </p> + <p> + His wife smiled over at him. “Leroy says I am melancholy,” she said, + softly; “but I am always telling him that I am happy. He thinks I am + melancholy because I do not laugh. I got out of the way of it by being so + much alone. You only laugh to let some one else know you are pleased. When + you are alone there is no use in laughing. It would be like explaining + something to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a philosopher, Judith. Mr. Max Mueller would like to know you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he a friend of yours, dear?” + </p> + <p> + Leroy blushed, and I saw Jessica curl her lip as she noticed the blush. + She laid her hand on Mrs. Brainard's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Have you always been very much alone?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I was born on the ranch, you know; and father was not fond of leaving it. + Indeed, now he says he will never again go out of sight of it. But you can + go a long journey without doing that; for it lies on a plateau in the + valley, and it can be seen from three different mountain passes. Mother + died there, and for that reason and others—father has had a strange + life—he never wanted to go away. He brought a lady from Pennsylvania + to teach me. She had wonderful learning, but she didn't make very much use + of it. I thought if I had learning I would not waste it reading books. I + would use it to—to live with. Father had a library, but I never + cared for it. He was forever at books too. Of course,” she hastened to + add, noticing the look of mortification deepen on her husband's face, “I + like books very well if there is nothing better at hand. But I always said + to Mrs. Windsor—it was she who taught me—why read what other + folk have been thinking when you can go out and think yourself? Of course + one prefers one's own thoughts, just as one prefers one's own ranch, or + one's own father.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are sure to like New York when you go there to live,” cried + Jessica; “for there you will find something to make life entertaining all + the time. No one need fall back on books there.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure. I'm afraid there must be such dreadful crowds of people. Of + course I should try to feel that they were all like me, with just the same + sort of fears, and that it was ridiculous for us to be afraid of each + other, when at heart we all meant to be kind.” + </p> + <p> + Jessica fairly wrung her hands. “Heavens!” she cried. “I said you would + like New York. I am afraid, my dear, that it will break your heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Mrs. Brainard, with what was meant to be a gentle jest, “no one + can break my heart except Leroy. I should not care enough about any one + else, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The compliment was an exquisite one. I felt the blood creep to my own + brain in a sort of vicarious rapture, and I avoided looking at Leroy lest + he should dislike to have me see the happiness he must feel. The + simplicity of the woman seemed to invigorate me as the cool air of her + mountains might if it blew to me on some bright dawn, when I had come, + fevered and sick of soul, from the city. + </p> + <p> + When we were alone, Jessica said to me: “That man has too much vanity, and + he thinks it is sensitiveness. He is going to imagine that his wife makes + him suffer. There's no one so brutally selfish as your sensitive man. He + wants every one to live according to his ideas, or he immediately begins + suffering. That friend of yours hasn't the courage of his convictions. He + is going to be ashamed of the very qualities that made him love his wife.” + </p> + <p> + There was a hop that night at the hotel, quite an unusual affair as to + elegance, given in honor of a woman from New York, who wrote a novel a + month. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brainard looked so happy that night when she came in the parlor, + after the music had begun, that I felt a moisture gather in my eyes just + because of the beauty of her joy, and the forced vivacity of the women + about me seemed suddenly coarse and insincere. Some wonderful red stones, + brilliant as rubies, glittered in among the diaphanous black driftings of + her dress. She asked me if the stones were not very pretty, and said she + gathered them in one of her mountain river-beds. + </p> + <p> + “But the gown?” I said. “Surely, you do not gather gowns like that in + river-beds, or pick them off mountain-pines?” + </p> + <p> + “But you can get them in Denver. Father always sent to Denver for my + finery. He was very particular about how I looked. You see, I was all he + had—” She broke off, her voice faltering. + </p> + <p> + “Come over by the window,” I said, to change her thought. “I have + something to repeat to you. It is a song of Sydney Lanier's. I think he + was the greatest poet that ever lived in America, though not many agree + with me. But he is my dear friend anyway, though he is dead, and I never + saw him; and I want you to hear some of his words.” + </p> + <p> + I led her across to an open window. The dancers were whirling by us. The + waltz was one of those melancholy ones which speak the spirit of the dance + more eloquently than any merry melody can. The sound of the sea booming + beyond in the darkness came to us, and long paths of light, now red, now + green, stretched toward the distant light-house. These were the lines I + repeated:— + </p> +<p class="poetry"> + “What heartache—ne'er a hill! + Inexorable, vapid, vague, and chill + The drear sand levels drain my spirit low. + With one poor word they tell me all they know; + Whereat their stupid tongues, to tease my pain, + Do drawl it o'er and o'er again. + They hurt my heart with griefs I cannot name; + Always the same—the same.” + </p> + <p> + But I got no further. I felt myself moved with a sort of passion which did + not seem to come from within, but to be communicated to me from her. A + certain unfamiliar happiness pricked through with pain thrilled me, and I + heard her whispering,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not go on, do not go on! I cannot stand it to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush,” I whispered back; “come out for a moment!” We stole into the dusk + without, and stood there trembling. I swayed with her emotion. There was a + long silence. Then she said: “Father may be walking alone now by the black + cataract. That is where he goes when he is sad. I can see how lonely he + looks among those little twisted pines that grow from the rock. And he + will be remembering all the evenings we walked there together, and all the + things we said.” I did not answer. Her eyes were still on the sea. + </p> + <p> + “What was the name of the man who wrote that verse you just said to me?” + </p> + <p> + I told her. + </p> + <p> + “And he is dead? Did they bury him in the mountains? No? I wish I could + have put him where he could have heard those four voices calling down the + canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “Come back in the house,” I said; “you must come, indeed,” I said, as she + shrank from re-entering. + </p> + <p> + Jessica was dancing like a fairy with Leroy. They both saw us and smiled + as we came in, and a moment later they joined us. I made my excuses and + left my friends to Jessica's care. She was a sort of social tyrant + wherever she was, and I knew one word from her would insure the popularity + of our friends—not that they needed the intervention of any one. + Leroy had been a sort of drawing-room pet since before he stopped wearing + knickerbockers. + </p> + <p> + “He is at his best in a drawing-room,” said Jessica, “because there he + deals with theory and not with action. And he has such beautiful theories + that the women, who are all idealists, adore him.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning I awoke with a conviction that I had been idling too + long. I went back to the city and brushed the dust from my desk. Then each + morning, I, as Jessica put it, “formed public opinion” to the extent of + one column a day in the columns of a certain enterprising morning journal. + </p> + <p> + Brainard said I had treated him shabbily to leave upon the heels of his + coming. But a man who works for his bread and butter must put a limit to + his holiday. It is different when you only work to add to your general + picturesqueness. That is what I wrote Leroy, and it was the unkindest + thing I ever said to him; and why I did it I do not know to this day. I + was glad, though, when he failed to answer the letter. It gave me a more + reasonable excuse for feeling out of patience with him. + </p> + <p> + The days that followed were very dull. It was hard to get back into the + way of working. I was glad when Jessica came home to set up our little + establishment and to join in the autumn gayeties. Brainard brought his + wife to the city soon after, and went to housekeeping in an odd sort of a + way. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't see anything in the place save curios,” Jessica reported, + after her first call on them. “I suppose there is a cookingstove + somewhere, and maybe even a pantry with pots in it. But all I saw was + Alaska totems and Navajo blankets. They have as many skins around on the + floor and couches as would have satisfied an ancient Briton. And everybody + was calling there. You know Mr. Brainard runs to curios in selecting his + friends as well as his furniture. The parlors were full this afternoon of + abnormal people, that is to say, with folks one reads about. I was the + only one there who hadn't done something. I guess it's because I am too + healthy.” + </p> + <p> + “How did Mrs. Brainard like such a motley crew?” + </p> + <p> + “She was wonderful—perfectly wonderful! Those insulting creatures + were all studying her, and she knew it. But her dignity was perfect, and + she looked as proud as a Sioux chief. She listened to every one, and they + all thought her so bright.” + </p> + <p> + “Brainard must have been tremendously proud of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he was—of her and his Chilcat portieres.” + </p> + <p> + Jessica was there often, but—well, I was busy. At length, however, I + was forced to go. Jessica refused to make any further excuses for me. The + rooms were filled with small celebrities. + </p> + <p> + “We are the only nonentities,” whispered Jessica, as she looked around; + “it will make us quite distinguished.” + </p> + <p> + We went to speak to our hostess. She stood beside her husband, looking + taller than ever; and her face was white. Her long red gown of clinging + silk was so peculiar as to give one the impression that she was dressed in + character. It was easy to tell that it was one of Leroy's fancies. I + hardly heard what she said, but I know she reproached me gently for not + having been to see them. I had no further word with her till some one led + her to the piano, and she paused to say,— + </p> + <p> + “That poet you spoke of to me—the one you said was a friend of yours—he + is my friend now too, and I have learned to sing some of his songs. I am + going to sing one now.” She seemed to have no timidity at all, but stood + quietly, with a half smile, while a young man with a Russian name played a + strange minor prelude. Then she sang, her voice a wonderful contralto, + cold at times, and again lit up with gleams of passion. The music itself + was fitful, now full of joy, now tender, and now sad: + </p> +<p class="poetry"> + “Look off, dear love, across the sallow sands, + And mark yon meeting of the sun and sea, + How long they kiss in sight of all the lands, + Ah! longer, longer we.” + </p> + <p> + “She has a genius for feeling, hasn't she?” Leroy whispered to me. + </p> + <p> + “A genius for feeling!” I repeated, angrily. “Man, she has a heart and a + soul and a brain, if that is what you mean! I shouldn't think you would be + able to look at her from the standpoint of a critic.” + </p> + <p> + Leroy shrugged his shoulders and went off. For a moment I almost hated him + for not feeling more resentful. I felt as if he owed it to his wife to + take offence at my foolish speech. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that the “mountain woman” had become the fashion. I read + reports in the papers about her unique receptions. I saw her name printed + conspicuously among the list of those who attended all sorts of dinners + and musicales and evenings among the set that affected intellectual + pursuits. She joined a number of women's clubs of an exclusive kind. + </p> + <p> + “She is doing whatever her husband tells her to,” said Jessica. “Why, the + other day I heard her ruining her voice on 'Siegfried'!” + </p> + <p> + But from day to day I noticed a difference in her. She developed a + terrible activity. She took personal charge of the affairs of her house; + she united with Leroy in keeping the house filled with guests; she got on + the board of a hospital for little children, and spent a part of every day + among the cots where the sufferers lay. Now and then when we spent a quiet + evening alone with her and Leroy, she sewed continually on little white + night-gowns for these poor babies. She used her carriage to take the most + extraordinary persons riding. + </p> + <p> + “In the cause of health,” Leroy used to say, “I ought to have the carriage + fumigated after every ride Judith takes, for she is always accompanied by + some one who looks as if he or she should go into quarantine.” + </p> + <p> + One night, when he was chaffing her in this way, she flung her sewing + suddenly from her and sprang to her feet, as if she were going to give way + to a burst of girlish temper. Instead of that, a stream of tears poured + from her eyes, and she held out her trembling hands toward Jessica. + </p> + <p> + “He does not know,” she sobbed. “He cannot understand.” + </p> + <p> + One memorable day Leroy hastened over to us while we were still at + breakfast to say that Judith was ill,—strangely ill. All night long + she had been muttering to herself as if in a delirium. Yet she answered + lucidly all questions that were put to her. + </p> + <p> + “She begs for Miss Grant. She says over and over that she 'knows,' + whatever that may mean.” + </p> + <p> + When Jessica came home she told me she did not know. She only felt that a + tumult of impatience was stirring in her friend. + </p> + <p> + “There is something majestic about her,-something epic. I feel as if she + were making me live a part in some great drama, the end of which I cannot + tell. She is suffering, but I cannot tell why she suffers.” + </p> + <p> + Weeks went on without an abatement in this strange illness. She did not + keep her bed. Indeed, she neglected few of her usual occupations. But her + hands were burning, and her eyes grew bright with that wild sort of lustre + one sees in the eyes of those who give themselves up to strange drugs or + manias. She grew whimsical, and formed capricious friendships, only to + drop them. + </p> + <p> + And then one day she closed her house to all acquaintances, and sat alone + continually in her room, with her hands clasped in her lap, and her eyes + swimming with the emotions that never found their way to her tongue. + </p> + <p> + Brainard came to the office to talk with me about her one day. “I am a + very miserable man, Grant,” he said. “I am afraid I have lost my wife's + regard. Oh, don't tell me it is partly my fault. I know it well enough. + And I know you haven't had a very good opinion of me lately. But I am + remorseful enough now, God knows. And I would give my life to see her as + she was when I found her first among the mountains. Why, she used to climb + them like a strong man, and she was forever shouting and singing. And she + had peopled every spot with strange modern mythological creatures. Her + father is an old dreamer, and she got the trick from him. They had a + little telescope on a great knoll in the centre of the valley, just where + it commanded a long path of stars, and they used to spend nights out there + when the frost literally fell in flakes. When I think how hardy and gay + she was, how full of courage and life, and look at her now, so feverish + and broken, I feel as if I should go mad. You know I never meant to do her + any harm. Tell me that much, Grant.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you were very egotistical for a while, Brainard, and that is a + fact. And you didn't appreciate how much her nature demanded. But I do not + think you are responsible for your wife's present condition. If there is + any comfort in that statement, you are welcome to it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't mean—” he got no further. + </p> + <p> + “I mean that your wife may have her reservations, just as we all have, and + I am paying her high praise when I say it. You are not so narrow, Leroy, + as to suppose for a moment that the only sort of passion a woman is + capable of is that which she entertains for a man. How do I know what is + going on in your wife's soul? But it is nothing which even an idealist of + women, such as I am, old fellow, need regret.” + </p> + <p> + How glad I was afterward that I spoke those words. They exercised a little + restraint, perhaps, on Leroy when the day of his terrible trial came. They + made him wrestle with the demon of suspicion that strove to possess him. I + was sitting in my office, lagging dispiritedly over my work one day, when + the door burst open and Brainard stood beside me. Brainard, I say, and yet + in no sense the man I had known,—not a hint in this pale creature, + whose breath struggled through chattering teeth, and whose hands worked in + uncontrollable spasms, of the nonchalant elegant I had known. Not a + glimpse to be seen in those angry and determined eyes of the gayly selfish + spirit of my holiday friend. + </p> + <p> + “She's gone!” he gasped. “Since yesterday. And I'm here to ask you what + you think now? And what you know.” + </p> + <p> + A panorama of all shameful possibilities for one black moment floated + before me. I remember this gave place to a wave, cold as death, that swept + from head to foot; then Brainard's hands fell heavily on my shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God at least for this much,” he said, hoarsely; “I didn't know at + first but I had lost both friend and wife. But I see you know nothing. And + indeed in my heart I knew all the time that you did not. Yet I had to come + to you with my anger. And I remembered how you defended her. What + explanation can you offer now?” + </p> + <p> + I got him to sit down after a while and tell me what little there was to + tell. He had been away for a day's shooting, and when he returned he found + only the perplexed servants at home. A note was left for him. He showed it + to me. + </p> + <p> + “There are times,” it ran, “when we must do as we must, not as we would. I + am going to do something I have been driven to do since I left my home. I + do not leave any message of love for you, because you would not care for + it from a woman so weak as I. But it is so easy for you to be happy that I + hope in a little while you will forget the wife who yielded to an + influence past resisting. It may be madness, but I am not great enough to + give it up. I tried to make the sacrifice, but I could not. I tried to be + as gay as you, and to live your sort of life; but I could not do it. Do + not make the effort to forgive me. You will be happier if you simply hold + me in the contempt I deserve.” + </p> + <p> + I read the letter over and over. I do not know that I believe that the + spirit of inanimate things can permeate to the intelligence of man. I am + sure I always laughed at such ideas. Yet holding that note with its + shameful seeming words, I felt a consciousness that it was written in + purity and love. And then before my eyes there came a scene so vivid that + for a moment the office with its familiar furniture was obliterated. What + I saw was a long firm road, green with midsummer luxuriance. The leisurely + thudding of my horse's feet sounded in my ears. Beside me was a tall, + black-robed figure. I saw her look back with that expression of + deprivation at the sky line. “It's like living after the world has begun + to die,” said the pensive minor voice. “It seems as if part of the world + had been taken down.” + </p> + <p> + “Brainard,” I yelled, “come here! I have it. Here's your explanation. I + can show you a new meaning for every line of this letter. Man, she has + gone to the mountains. She has gone to worship her own gods!” + </p> + <p> + Two weeks later I got a letter from Brainard, dated from Colorado. + </p> + <p> + “Old man,” it said, “you're right. She is here. I found my mountain woman + here where the four voices of her cataracts had been calling to her. I saw + her the moment our mules rounded the road that commands the valley. We had + been riding all night and were drenched with cold dew, hungry to + desperation, and my spirits were of lead. Suddenly we got out from behind + the granite wall, and there she was, standing, where I had seen her so + often, beside the little waterfall that she calls the happy one. She was + looking straight up at the billowing mist that dipped down the mountain, + mammoth saffron rolls of it, plunging so madly from the impetus of the + wind that one marvelled how it could be noiseless. Ah, you do not know + Judith! That strange, unsophisticated, sometimes awkward woman you saw + bore no more resemblance to my mountain woman than I to Hercules. How + strong and beautiful she looked standing there wrapped in an ecstasy! It + was my primitive woman back in her primeval world. How the blood leaped in + me! All my old romance, so different from the common love-histories of + most men, was there again within my reach! All the mystery, the poignant + happiness were mine again. Do not hold me in contempt because I show you + my heart. You saw my misery. Why should I grudge you a glimpse of my + happiness? She saw me when I touched her hand, not before, so wrapped was + she. But she did not seem surprised. Only in her splendid eyes there came + a large content. She pointed to the dancing little white fall. 'I thought + something wonderful was going to happen,' she whispered, 'for it has been + laughing so.' + </p> + <p> + “I shall not return to New York. I am going to stay here with my mountain + woman, and I think perhaps I shall find out what life means here sooner + than I would back there with you. I shall learn to see large things large + and small things small. Judith says to tell you and Miss Grant that the + four voices are calling for you every day in the valley. + </p> + <p> + “Yours in fullest friendship, + </p> + <p> + “LEROY BRAINARD.” + </p> + <p> + Jim Lancy's Waterloo + </p> + <p> + “WE must get married before time to put in crops,” he wrote. “We must make + a success of the farm the first year, for luck. Could you manage to be + ready to come out West by the last of February? After March opens there + will be no let-up, and I do not see how I could get away. Make it + February, Annie dear. A few weeks more or less can make no difference to + you, but they make a good deal of difference to me.” + </p> + <p> + The woman to whom this was written read it with something like anger. “I + don't believe he's so impatient for me!” she said to herself. “What he + wants is to get the crops in on time.” But she changed the date of their + wedding, and made it February. + </p> + <p> + Their wedding journey was only from the Illinois village where she lived + to their Nebraska farm. They had never been much together, and they had + much to say to each other. + </p> + <p> + “Farming won't come hard to you,” Jim assured her. “All one needs to farm + with is brains.” + </p> + <p> + “What a success you'll make of it!” she cried saucily. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had my farm clear,” Jim went on; “but that's more than any one + has around me. I'm no worse off than the rest. We've got to pay off the + mortgage, Annie.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we must. We'll just do without till we get the mortgage lifted. + Hard work will do anything, I guess. And I'm not afraid to work, Jim, + though I've never had much experience.” + </p> + <p> + Jim looked out of the window a long time, at the gentle undulations of the + brown Iowa prairie. His eyes seemed to pierce beneath the sod, to the + swelling buds of the yet invisible grass. He noticed how disdainfully the + rains of the new year beat down the grasses of the year that was gone. It + opened to his mind a vision of the season's possibilities. For a moment, + even amid the smoke of the car, he seemed to scent clover, and hear the + stiff swishing of the corn and the dull burring of the bees. + </p> + <p> + “I wish sometimes,” he said, leaning forward to look at his bride, “that I + had been born something else than a farmer. But I can no more help + farming, Annie, than a bird can help singing, or a bee making honey. I + didn't take to farming. I was simply born with a hoe in my hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know a blessed thing about it,” Annie confessed. “But I made up + my mind that a farm with you was better than a town without you. That's + all there is to it, as far as I am concerned.” + </p> + <p> + Jim Lancy slid his arm softly about her waist, unseen by the other + passengers. Annie looked up apprehensively, to see if any one was + noticing. But they were eating their lunches. It was a common coach on + which they were riding. There was a Pullman attached to the train, and + Annie had secretly thought that, as it was their wedding journey, it might + be more becoming to take it. But Jim had made no suggestion about it. What + he said later explained the reason. + </p> + <p> + “I would have liked to have brought you a fine present,” he said. “It + seemed shabby to come with nothing but that little ring. But I put + everything I had on our home, you know. And yet, I'm sure you'll think it + poor enough after what you've been used to. You'll forgive me for only + bringing the ring, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “But you brought me something better,” Annie whispered. She was a foolish + little girl. “You brought me love, you know.” Then they rode in silence + for a long time. Both of them were new to the phraseology of love. Their + simple compliments to each other were almost ludicrous. But any one who + might have chanced to overhear them would have been charmed, for they + betrayed an innocence as beautiful as an unclouded dawn. + </p> + <p> + Annie tried hard not to be depressed by the treeless stretches of the + Nebraska plains. + </p> + <p> + “This is different from Illinois,” she ventured once, gently; “it is even + different from Iowa.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” cried Jim, enthusiastically, “it is different! It is the + finest country in the world! You never feel shut in. You can always see + off. I feel at home after I get in Nebraska. I'd choke back where you + live, with all those little gullies and the trees everywhere. It's a + mystery to me how farmers have patience to work there.” + </p> + <p> + Annie opened her eyes. There was evidently more than one way of looking at + a question. The farm-houses seemed very low and mean to her, as she looked + at them from the window. There were no fences, excepting now and then the + inhospitable barbed wire. The door-yards were bleak to her eyes, without + the ornamental shrubbery which every farmer in her part of the country was + used to tending. The cattle stood unshedded in their corrals. The reapers + and binders stood rusting in the dull drizzle. + </p> + <p> + “How shiftless!” cried Annie, indignantly. “What do these men mean by + letting their machinery lie out that way? I should think one winter of + lying out would hurt it more than three summers of using.” + </p> + <p> + “It does. But sheds are not easily had. Lumber is dear.” + </p> + <p> + “But I should think it would be economy even then.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “perhaps. But we all do that way out here. It takes some + money for a man to be economical with. Some of us haven't even that much.” + </p> + <p> + There was a six-mile ride from the station. The horses were waiting, + hitched up to a serviceable light wagon, and driven by the “help.” He was + a thin young man, with red hair, and he blushed vicariously for Jim and + Annie, who were really too entertained with each other, and at the idea of + the new life opening up before them, to think anything about blushing. At + the station, a number of men insisted on shaking hands with Jim, and being + introduced to his wife. They were all bearded, as if shaving were an + unnecessary labor, and their trousers were tucked in dusty top-boots, none + of which had ever seen blacking. Annie had a sense of these men seeming + unwashed, or as if they had slept in their clothes. But they had kind + voices, and their eyes were very friendly. So she shook hands with them + all with heartiness, and asked them to drive out and bring their + womenkind. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to make up my mind not to be lonesome,” she declared; “but, + all the same, I shall want to see some women.” + </p> + <p> + Annie had got safe on the high seat of the wagon, and was balancing her + little feet on the inclined foot-rest, when a woman came running across + the street, calling aloud,— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lancy! Mr. Lancy! You're not going to drive away without introducing + me to your wife!” + </p> + <p> + She was a thin little woman, with movements as nervous and as graceless as + those of a grasshopper. Her dun-colored garments seemed to have all the + hue bleached out of them with wind and weather. Her face was brown and + wrinkled, and her bright eyes flashed restlessly, deep in their sockets. + Two front teeth were conspicuously missing; and her faded hair was blown + in wisps about her face. Jim performed the introduction, and Annie held + out her hand. It was a pretty hand, delicately gloved in dove color. The + woman took it in her own, and after she had shaken it, held it for a + silent moment, looking at it. Then she almost threw it from her. The eyes + which she lifted to scan the bright young face above her had something + like agony in them. Annie blushed under this fierce scrutiny, and the + woman, suddenly conscious of her demeanor, forced a smile to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “I'll come out an' see yeh,” she said, in cordial tones. “May be, as a new + housekeeper, you'll like a little advice. You've a nice place, an' I wish + yeh luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I'm sure I'll need advice,” cried Annie, as they drove off. + Then she said to Jim, “Who is that old woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Old woman? Why, she ain't a day over thirty, Mis' Dundy ain't.” + </p> + <p> + Annie looked at her husband blankly. But he was already talking of + something else, and she asked no more about the woman, though all the way + along the road the face seemed to follow her. It might have been this that + caused the tightening about her heart. For some way her vivacity had gone; + and the rest of the ride she asked no questions, but sat looking straight + before her at the northward stretching road, with eyes that felt rather + than saw the brown, bare undulations, rising every now and then clean to + the sky; at the side, little famished-looking houses, unacquainted with + paint, disorderly yards, and endless reaches of furrowed ground, where in + summer the corn had waved. + </p> + <p> + The horses needed no indication of the line to make them turn up a smooth + bit of road that curved away neatly 'mid the ragged grasses. At the end of + it, in a clump of puny scrub oaks, stood a square little house, in + uncorniced simplicity, with blank, uncurtained windows staring out at + Annie, and for a moment her eyes, blurred with the cold, seemed to see in + one of them the despairing face of the woman with the wisps of faded hair + blowing about her face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think of it?” Jim cried, heartily, swinging her down + from her high seat, and kissing her as he did so. “This is your home, my + girl, and you are as welcome to it as you would be to a palace, if I could + give it to you.” + </p> + <p> + Annie put up her hands to hide the trembling of her lips; and she let Jim + see there were tears in her eyes as an apology for not replying. The young + man with the red hair took away the horses, and Jim, with his arm around + his wife's waist, ran toward the house and threw open the door for her to + enter. The intense heat of two great stoves struck in their faces; and + Annie saw the big burner, erected in all its black hideousness in the + middle of the front room, like a sort of household hoodoo, to be + constantly propitiated, like the gods of Greece; and in the kitchen, the + new range, with a distracted tea-kettle leaping on it, as if it would like + to loose its fetters and race away over the prairie after its cousin, the + locomotive. + </p> + <p> + It was a house of four rooms, and a glance revealed the fact that it had + been provided with the necessaries. + </p> + <p> + “I think we can be very comfortable here,” said Jim, rather doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + Annie saw she must make some response. “I am sure we can be more than + comfortable, Jim,” she replied. “We can be happy. Show me, if you please, + where my room is. I must hang my cloak up in the right place so that I + shall feel as if I were getting settled.” + </p> + <p> + It was enough. Jim had no longer any doubts. He felt sure they were going + to be happy ever afterward. + </p> + <p> + It was Annie who got the first meal; she insisted on it, though both the + men wanted her to rest. And Jim hadn't the heart to tell her that, as a + general thing, it would not do to put two eggs in the corn-cake, and that + the beefsteak was a great luxury. When he saw her about to break an egg + for the coffee, however, he interfered. + </p> + <p> + “The shells of the ones you used for the cake will settle the coffee just + as well,” he said. “You see we have to be very careful of eggs out here at + this season.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Will the shells really settle it? This is what you must call prairie + lore. I suppose out here we find out what the real relations of invention + and necessity are—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Jim laughed disproportionately. He thought her wonderfully witty. And he + and the help ate so much that Annie opened her eyes. She had thought there + would be enough left for supper. But there was nothing left. + </p> + <p> + For the next two weeks Jim was able to be much with her; and they amused + themselves by decorating the house with the bright curtainings that Annie + had brought, and putting up shelves for a few pieces of china. She had two + or three pictures, also, which had come from her room in her old home, and + some of those useless dainty things with which some women like to litter + the room. + </p> + <p> + “Most folks,” Jim explained, “have to be content with one fire, and sit in + the kitchen; but I thought, as this was our honeymoon, we would put on + some lugs.” + </p> + <p> + Annie said nothing then; but a day or two after she ventured,— + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it would be as well now, dear, if we kept in the kitchen. I'll + keep it as bright and pleasant as I can. And, anyway, you can be more + about with me when I'm working then. We'll lay a fire in the front-room + stove, so that we can light it if anybody comes. We can just as well save + that much.” + </p> + <p> + Jim looked up brightly. “All right,” he said. “You're a sensible little + woman. You see, every cent makes a difference. And I want to be able to + pay off five hundred dollars of that mortgage this year.” + </p> + <p> + So, after that, they sat in the kitchen; and the fire was laid in the + front room, against the coming of company. But no one came, and it + remained unlighted. + </p> + <p> + Then the season began to show signs of opening,—bleak signs, hardly + recognizable to Annie; and after that Jim was not much in the house. The + weeks wore on, and spring came at last, dancing over the hills. The + ground-birds began building, and at four each morning awoke Annie with + their sylvan opera. The creek that ran just at the north of the house + worked itself into a fury and blustered along with much noise toward the + great Platte which, miles away, wallowed in its vast sandy bed. The hills + flushed from brown to yellow, and from mottled green to intensest emerald, + and in the superb air all the winds of heaven seemed to meet and frolic + with laughter and song. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes the mornings were so beautiful that, the men being afield and + Annie all alone, she gave herself up to an ecstasy and kneeled by the + little wooden bench outside the door, to say, “Father, I thank Thee,” and + then went about her work with all the poem of nature rhyming itself over + and over in her heart. + </p> + <p> + It was on such a day as this that Mrs. Dundy kept her promise and came + over to see if the young housekeeper needed any of the advice she had + promised her. She had walked, because none of the horses could be spared. + It had got so warm now that the fire in the kitchen heated the whole house + sufficiently, and Annie had the rooms clean to exquisiteness. Mrs. Dundy + looked about with envious eyes. + </p> + <p> + “How lovely!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” cried Annie, in surprise. “I like it, of course, + because it is home, but I don't see how you could call anything here + lovely.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don't understand,” her visitor went on. “It's lovely because it + looks so happy. Some of us have—well, kind o' lost our grip.” + </p> + <p> + “It's easy to do that if you don't feel well,” Annie remarked + sympathetically. “I haven't felt as well as usual myself, lately. And I do + get lonesome and wonder what good it does to fix up every day when there + is no one to see. But that is all nonsense, and I put it out of my head.” + </p> + <p> + She smoothed out the clean lawn apron with delicate touch. Mrs. Dundy + followed the movement with her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear,” she cried, “you don't know nothin' about it yet! But you + will know! You will!” and those restless, hot eyes of hers seemed to grow + more restless and more hot as they looked with infinite pity at the young + woman before her. + </p> + <p> + Annie thought of these words often as the summer came on, and the heat + grew. Jim was seldom to be seen now. He was up at four each morning, and + the last chore was not completed till nine at night. Then he threw himself + in bed and lay there log-like till dawn. He was too weary to talk much, + and Annie, with her heart aching for his fatigue, forbore to speak to him. + She cooked the most strengthening things she could, and tried always to + look fresh and pleasant when he came in. But she often thought her pains + were in vain, for he hardly rested his sunburned eyes on her. His skin got + so brown that his face was strangely changed, especially as he no longer + had time to shave, and had let a rough beard straggle over his cheeks and + chin. On Sundays Annie would have liked to go to church, but the horses + were too tired to be taken out, and she did not feel well enough to walk + far; besides, Jim got no particular good out of walking over the hills + unless he had a plough in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Harvest came at length, and the crop was good. There were any way from + three to twenty men at the house then, and Annie cooked for all of them. + Jim had tried to get some one to help her, but he had not succeeded. Annie + strove to be brave, remembering that farm-women all over the country were + working in similar fashion. But in spite of all she could do, the days got + to seem like nightmares, and sleep between was but a brief pause in which + she was always dreaming of water, and thinking that she was stooping to + put fevered lips to a running brook. Some of these men were very + disgusting to Annie. Their manners were as bad as they could well be, and + a coarse word came naturally to their lips. + </p> + <p> + “To be master of the soil, that is one thing,” said she to herself in + sickness of spirit; “but to be the slave of it is another. These men seem + to have got their souls all covered with muck.” She noticed that they had + no idea of amusement. They had never played anything. They did not even + care for base-ball. Their idea of happiness appeared to be to do nothing; + and there was a good part of the year in which they were happy,—for + these were not for the most part men owning farms; they were men who hired + out to help the farmer. A good many of them had been farmers at one time + and another, but they had failed. They all talked politics a great deal,—politics + and railroads. Annie had not much patience with it all. She had great + confidence in the course of things. She believed that in this country all + men have a fair chance. So when it came about that the corn and the wheat, + which had been raised with such incessant toil, brought them no money, but + only a loss, Annie stood aghast. + </p> + <p> + “I said the rates were ruinous,” Jim said to her one night, after it was + all over, and he had found out that the year's slavish work had brought + him a loss of three hundred dollars; “it's been a conspiracy from the + first. The price of corn is all right. But by the time we set it down in + Chicago we are out eighteen cents a bushel. It means ruin. What are we + going to do? Here we had the best crop we've had for years—but + what's the use of talking! They have us in their grip.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how it is,” Annie protested. “I should think it would be for + the interest of the roads to help the people to be as prosperous as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we can't get out! And we're bound to stay and raise grain. And + they're bound to cart it. And that's all there is to it. They force us to + stand every loss, even to the shortage that is made in transportation. The + railroad companies own the elevators, and they have the cinch on us. Our + grain is at their mercy. God knows how I'm going to raise that interest. + As for the five hundred we were going to pay on the mortgage this year, + Annie, we're not in it.” + </p> + <p> + Autumn was well set in by this time, and the brilliant cold sky hung over + the prairies as young and fresh as if the world were not old and tired. + Annie no longer could look as trim as when she first came to the little + house. Her pretty wedding garments were beginning to be worn and there was + no money for more. Jim would not play chess now of evenings. He was + forever writing articles for the weekly paper in the adjoining town. They + talked of running him for the state legislature, and he was anxious for + the nomination. + </p> + <p> + “I think I might be able to stand it if I could fight 'em!” he declared; + “but to sit here idle, knowing that I have been cheated out of my year's + work, just as much as if I had been knocked down on the road and the money + taken from me, is enough to send me to the asylum with a strait-jacket + on!” + </p> + <p> + Life grew to take on tragic aspects. Annie used to find herself wondering + if anywhere in the world there were people with light hearts. For her + there was no longer anticipation of joy, or present companionship, or any + divertissement in the whole world. Jim read books which she did not + understand, and with a few of his friends, who dropped in now and then + evenings or Sundays, talked about these books in an excited manner. + </p> + <p> + She would go to her room to rest, and lying there in the darkness on the + bed, would hear them speaking together, sometimes all at once, in those + sternly vindictive tones men use when there is revolt in their souls. + </p> + <p> + “It is the government which is helping to impoverish us,” she would hear + Jim saying. “Work is money. That is to say, it is the active form of + money. The wealth of a country is estimated by its power of production. + And its power of production means work. It means there are so many men + with so much capacity. Now the government owes it to these men to have + money enough to pay them for their work; and if there is not enough money + in circulation to pay to each man for his honest and necessary work, then + I say that government is in league with crime. It is trying to make + defaulters of us. It has a hundred ways of cheating us. When I bought this + farm and put the mortgage on it, a day's work would bring twice the + results it will now. That is to say, the total at the end of the year + showed my profits to be twice what they would be now, even if the railway + did not stand in the way to rob us of more than we earn. So that it will + take just twice as many days' work now to pay off this mortgage as it + would have done at the time it was contracted. It's a conspiracy, I tell + you! Those Eastern capitalists make a science of ruining us.” + </p> + <p> + He got more eloquent as time went on, and Annie, who had known him first + as rather a careless talker, was astonished at the boldness of his + language. But conversation was a lost art with him. He no longer talked. + He harangued. + </p> + <p> + In the early spring Annie's baby was born,—a little girl with a + nervous cry, who never slept long at a time, and who seemed to wail merely + from distaste at living. It was Mrs. Dundy who came over to look after the + house till Annie got able to do so. Her eyes had that fever in them, as + ever. She talked but little, but her touch on Annie's head was more + eloquent than words. One day Annie asked for the glass, and Mrs. Dundy + gave it to her. She looked in it a long time. The color was gone from her + cheeks, and about her mouth there was an ugly tightening. But her eyes + flashed and shone with that same—no, no, it could not be that in her + face also was coming the look of half-madness! She motioned Mrs. Dundy to + come to her. + </p> + <p> + “You knew it was coming,” she said, brokenly, pointing to the reflection + in the glass. “That first day, you knew how it would be.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dundy took the glass away with a gentle hand. + </p> + <p> + “How could I help knowing?” she said simply. She went into the next room, + and when she returned Annie noticed that the handkerchief stuck in her + belt was wet, as if it had been wept on. + </p> + <p> + A woman cannot stay long away from her home on a farm at planting time, + even if it is a case of life and death. Mrs. Dundy had to go home, and + Annie crept about her work with the wailing baby in her arms. The house + was often disorderly now; but it could not be helped. The baby had to be + cared for. It fretted so much that Jim slept apart in the mow of the barn, + that his sleep might not be disturbed. It was a pleasant, dim place, full + of sweet scents, and he liked to be there alone. Though he had always been + an unusual worker, he worked now more like a man who was fighting off + fate, than a mere toiler for bread. + </p> + <p> + The corn came up beautifully, and far as the eye could reach around their + home it tossed its broad green leaves with an oceanlike swelling of + sibilant sound. Jim loved it with a sort of passion. Annie loved it, too. + Sometimes, at night, when her fatigue was unbearable, and her irritation + wearing out both body and soul, she took her little one in her arms and + walked among the corn, letting its rustling soothe the baby to sleep. + </p> + <p> + The heat of the summer was terrible. The sun came up in that blue sky like + a curse, and hung there till night came to comfort the blistering earth. + And one morning a terrible thing happened. Annie was standing out of doors + in the shade of those miserable little oaks, ironing, when suddenly a + blast of air struck her in the face, which made her look up startled. For + a moment she thought, perhaps, there was a fire near in the grass. But + there was none. Another blast came, hotter this time, and fifteen minutes + later that wind was sweeping straight across the plain, burning and + blasting. Annie went in the house to finish her ironing, and was working + there, when she heard Jim's footstep on the door-sill. He could not pale + because of the tan, but there was a look of agony and of anger-almost + brutish anger—in his eyes. Then he looked, for a moment, at Annie + standing there working patiently, and rocking the little crib with one + foot, and he sat down on the door-step and buried his face in his brown + arms. + </p> + <p> + The wind blew for three days. At the end of that time every ear was + withered in the stalk. The corn crop was ruined. + </p> + <p> + But there were the other crops which must be attended to, and Jim watched + those with the alertness of a despairing man; and so harvest came again, + and again the house was filled with men who talked their careless talk, + and who were not ashamed to gorge while this one woman cooked for them. + The baby lay on a quilt on the floor in the coolest part of the kitchen. + Annie fed it irregularly. Sometimes she almost forgot it. As for its + wailing, she had grown so used to it that she hardly heard it, any more + than she did the ticking of the clock. And yet, tighter than anything else + in life, was the hold that little thing had on her heart-strings. At + night, after the interminable work had been finished—though in + slovenly fashion—she would take it up and caress it with fierceness, + and worn as she was, would bathe it and soothe it, and give it warm milk + from the big tin pail. + </p> + <p> + “Lay the child down,” Jim would say impatiently, while the men would tell + how their wives always put the babies on the bed and let them cry if they + wanted to. Annie said nothing, but she hushed the little one with tender + songs. + </p> + <p> + One day, as usual, it lay on its quilt while Annie worked. It was a + terribly busy morning. She had risen at four to get the washing out of the + way before the men got on hand, and there were a dozen loaves of bread to + bake, and the meals to get, and the milk to attend to, and the chickens + and pigs to feed. So occupied was she that she never was able to tell how + long she was gone from the baby. She only knew that the heat of her own + body was so great that the blood seemed to be pounding at her ears, and + she staggered as she crossed the yard. But when she went at last with a + cup of milk to feed the little one, it lay with clenched fists and fixed + eyes, and as she lifted it, a last convulsion laid it back breathless, and + its heart had ceased to beat. + </p> + <p> + Annie ran with it to her room, and tried such remedies as she had. But + nothing could keep the chill from creeping over the wasted little form,—not + even the heat of the day, not even the mother's agonized embrace. Then, + suddenly, Annie looked at the clock. It was time to get the dinner. She + laid the piteous tiny shape straight on the bed, threw a sheet over it, + and went back to the weltering kitchen to cook for those men, who came at + noon and who must be fed—who must be fed. + </p> + <p> + When they were all seated at the table, Jim among them, and she had served + them, she said, standing at the head of the table, with her hands on her + hips:— + </p> + <p> + “I don't suppose any of you have time to do anything about it; but I + thought you might like to know that the baby is dead. I wouldn't think of + asking you to spare the horses, for I know they have to rest. But I + thought, if you could make out on a cold supper, that I would go to the + town for a coffin.” + </p> + <p> + There was satire in the voice that stung even through the dull perceptions + of these men, and Jim arose with a cry and went to the room where his dead + baby lay. + </p> + <p> + About two months after this Annie insisted that she must go home to + Illinois. Jim protested in a way. + </p> + <p> + “You know, I'd like to send you,” he said; “but I don't see where the + money is to come from. And since I've got this nomination, I want to run + as well as I can. My friends expect me to do my best for them. It's a + duty, you know, and nothing less, for a few men, like me, to get in the + legislature. We're going to get a railroad bill through this session that + will straighten out a good many things. Be patient a little longer, + Annie.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to go home,” was the only reply he got. “You must get the money, + some way, for me to go home with.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't paid a cent of interest yet,” he cried angrily. “I don't see + what you mean by being so unreasonable!” + </p> + <p> + “You must get the money, some way,” she reiterated. + </p> + <p> + He did not speak to her for a week, except when he was obliged to. But she + did not seem to mind; and he gave her the money. He took her to the train + in the little wagon that had met her when she first came. At the station, + some women were gossiping excitedly, and Annie asked what they were + saying. + </p> + <p> + “It's Mis' Dundy,” they said. “She's been sent to th' insane asylum at + Lincoln. She's gone stark mad. All she said on the way out was, 'Th' + butter won't come! Th' butter won't come!'” Then they laughed a little—a + strange laugh; and Annie thought of a drinking-song she had once heard, + “Here's to the next who dies.” + </p> + <p> + Ten days after this Jim got a letter from her. “I am never coming back, + Jim,” it said. “It is hopeless. I don't think I would mind standing still + to be shot down if there was any good in it. But I'm not going back there + to work harder than any slave for those money-loaners and the railroads. I + guess they can all get along without me. And I am sure I can get along + without them. I do not think this will make you feel very bad. You haven't + seemed to notice me very much lately when I've been around, and I do not + think you will notice very much when I am gone. I know what this means. I + know I am breaking my word when I leave you. But remember, it is not you I + leave, but the soil, Jim! I will not be its slave any longer. If you care + to come for me here, and live another life—but no, there would be no + use. Our love, like our toil, has been eaten up by those rapacious acres. + Let us say goodby.” + </p> + <p> + Jim sat all night with this letter in his hand. Sometimes he dozed heavily + in his chair. But he did not go to bed; and the next morning he hitched up + his horses and rode to town. He went to the bank which held his notes. + </p> + <p> + “I'll confess judgment as soon as you like,” he said. “It's all up with + me.” + </p> + <p> + It was done as quickly as the law would allow. And the things in the house + were sold by auction. All the farmers were there with their wives. It made + quite an outing for them. Jim moved around impassively, and chatted, now + and then, with some of the men about what the horses ought to bring. + </p> + <p> + The auctioneer was a clever fellow. Between the putting up of the + articles, he sang comic songs, and the funnier the song, the livelier the + bidding that followed. The horses brought a decent price, and the + machinery a disappointing one; and then, after a delicious snatch about + Nell who rode the sway-backed mare at the county fair, he got down to the + furniture,—the furniture which Jim had bought when he was expecting + Annie. + </p> + <p> + Jim was walking around with his hands in his pockets, looking unconcerned, + and, as the furniture began to go off, he came and sat down in the midst + of it. Every one noticed his indifference. Some of them said that after + all he couldn't have been very ambitious. He didn't seem to take his + failure much to heart. Every one was concentrating attention on the + cookingstove, when Jim leaned forward, quickly, over a little wicker + work-stand. + </p> + <p> + There was a bit of unfinished sewing there, and it fell out as he lifted + the cover. It was a baby's linen shirt. Jim let it lie, and then lifted + from its receptacle a silver thimble. He put it in his vest-pocket. + </p> + <p> + The campaign came on shortly after this, and Jim Lancy was defeated. “I'm + going to Omaha,” said he to the station-master, “and I've got just enough + to buy a ticket with. There's a kind of satisfaction in giving the last + cent I have to the railroads.” + </p> + <p> + Two months later, a “plain drunk” was registered at the station in + Nebraska's metropolis. When they searched him they found nothing in his + pockets but a silver thimble, and Joe Benson, the policeman who had + brought in the “drunk,” gave it to the matron, with his compliments. But + she, when no one noticed, went softly to where the man was sleeping, and + slipped it back into his pocket, with a sigh. For she knew somehow—as + women do know things—that he had not stolen that thimble. + </p> + <p> + THE equinoctial line itself is not more imaginary than the line which + divided the estates of the three Johns. The herds of the three Johns + roamed at will, and nibbled the short grass far and near without let or + hindrance; and the three Johns themselves were utterly indifferent as to + boundary lines. Each of them had filed his application at the office of + the government land-agent; each was engaged in the tedious task of + “proving up;” and each owned one-third of the L-shaped cabin which stood + at the point where the three ranches touched. The hundred and sixty acres + which would have completed this quadrangle had not yet been “taken up.” + </p> + <p> + The three Johns were not anxious to have a neighbor. Indeed, they had made + up their minds that if one appeared on that adjoining “hun'erd an' sixty,” + it would go hard with him. For they did not deal in justice very much—the + three Johns. They considered it effete. It belonged in the East along with + other outgrown superstitions. And they had given it out widely that it + would be healthier for land applicants to give them elbow-room. It took a + good many miles of sunburnt prairie to afford elbow-room for the three + Johns. + </p> + <p> + They met by accident in Hamilton at the land-office. John Henderson, fresh + from Cincinnati, manifestly unused to the ways of the country, looked at + John Gillispie with a lurking smile. Gillispie wore a sombrero, fresh, + white, and expansive. His boots had high heels, and were of elegant + leather and finely arched at the instep. His corduroys disappeared in them + half-way up the thigh. About his waist a sash of blue held a laced shirt + of the same color in place. Henderson puffed at his cigarette, and + continued to look a trifle quizzical. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Gillispie walked up to him and said, in a voice of complete + suavity, “Damn yeh, smoke a pipe!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said Henderson, stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “Smoke a pipe,” said the other. “That thing you have is bad for your + complexion.” + </p> + <p> + “I can take care of my complexion,” said Henderson, firmly. + </p> + <p> + The two looked each other straight in the eye. + </p> + <p> + “You don't go on smoking that thing till you have apologized for that grin + you had on your phiz a moment ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I laugh when I please, and I smoke what I please,” said Henderson, hotly, + his face flaming as he realized that he was in for his first “row.” + </p> + <p> + That was how it began. How it would have ended is not known—probably + there would have been only one John—if it had not been for the + almost miraculous appearance at this moment of the third John. For just + then the two belligerents found themselves prostrate, their pistols only + half-cocked, and between them stood a man all gnarled and squat, like one + of those wind-torn oaks which grow on the arid heights. He was no older + than the others, but the lines in his face were deep, and his large mouth + twitched as he said:— + </p> + <p> + “Hold on here, yeh fools! There's too much blood in you to spill. You'll + spile th' floor, and waste good stuff. We need blood out here!” + </p> + <p> + Gillispie bounced to his feet. Henderson arose suspiciously, keeping his + eyes on his assailants. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, get up!” cried the intercessor. “We don't shoot men hereabouts till + they git on their feet in fightin' trim.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about what we do here?” interrupted Gillispie. “This is + the first time I ever saw you around.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” the other admitted. “I'm just down from Montana. Came to take + up a quarter section. Where I come from we give men a show, an' I thought + perhaps yeh did th' same here.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” admitted Gillispie, “we do. But I don't want folks to laugh + too much—not when I'm around—unless they tell me what the joke + is. I was just mentioning it to the gentleman,” he added, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “So I saw,” said the other; “you're kind a emphatic in yer remarks. Yeh + ought to give the gentleman a chance to git used to the ways of th' + country. He'll be as tough as th' rest of us if you'll give him a chance. + I kin see it in him.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Henderson. “I'm glad you do me justice. I wish you + wouldn't let daylight through me till I've had a chance to get my quarter + section. I'm going to be one of you, either as a live man or a corpse. But + I prefer a hundred and sixty acres of land to six feet of it.” + </p> + <p> + “There, now!” triumphantly cried the squat man. “Didn't I tell yeh? Give + him a show! 'Tain't no fault of his that he's a tenderfoot. He'll get over + that.” + </p> + <p> + Gillispie shook hands with first one and then the other of the men. “It's + a square deal from this on,” he said. “Come and have a drink.” + </p> + <p> + That's how they met—John Henderson, John Gillispie, and John Waite. + And a week later they were putting up a shanty together for common use, + which overlapped each of their reservations, and satisfied the law with + its sociable subterfuge. + </p> + <p> + The life wasn't bad, Henderson decided; and he adopted all the ways of the + country in an astonishingly short space of time. There was a freedom about + it all which was certainly complete. The three alternated in the night + watch. Once a week one of them went to town for provisions. They were not + good at the making of bread, so they contented themselves with hot cakes. + Then there was salt pork for a staple, and prunes. They slept in + straw-lined bunks, with warm blankets for a covering. They made a point of + bringing reading-matter back from town every week, and there were always + cards to fall back on, and Waite sang songs for them with natural dramatic + talent. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, in spite of their contentment, none of them was sorry when + the opportunity offered for going to town. There was always a bit of + stirring gossip to be picked up, and now and then there was a “show” at + the “opera-house,” in which, it is almost unnecessary to say, no opera had + ever been sung. Then there was the hotel, at which one not only got good + fare, but a chat with the three daughters of Jim O'Neal, the proprietor—girls + with the accident of two Irish parents, who were, notwithstanding, as + typically American as they well could be. A half-hour's talk with these + cheerful young women was all the more to be desired for the reason that + within riding distance of the three Johns' ranch there were only two other + women. One was Minerva Fitch, who had gone out from Michigan accompanied + by an oil-stove and a knowledge of the English grammar, with the intention + of teaching school, but who had been unable to carry these good intentions + into execution for the reason that there were no children to teach,—at + least, none but Bow-legged Joe. He was a sad little fellow, who looked + like a prairie-dog, and who had very much the same sort of an outlook on + life. The other woman was the brisk and efficient wife of Mr. Bill Deems, + of “Missourah.” Mr. Deems had never in his life done anything, not even so + much as bring in a basket of buffalo chips to supply the scanty fire. That + is to say, he had done nothing strictly utilitarian. Yet he filled his + place. He was the most accomplished story-teller in the whole valley, and + this accomplishment of his was held in as high esteem as the + improvisations of a Welsh minstrel were among his reverencing people. His + wife alone deprecated his skill, and interrupted his spirited narratives + with sarcastic allusions concerning the empty cupboard, and the “state of + her back,” to which, as she confided to any who would listen, “there was + not a rag fit to wear.” + </p> + <p> + These two ladies had not, as may be surmised, any particular attraction + for John Henderson. Truth to tell, Henderson had not come West with the + intention of liking women, but rather with a determination to see and + think as little of them as possible. Yet even the most confirmed + misogynist must admit that it is a good thing to see a woman now and then, + and for this reason Henderson found it amusing to converse with the + amiable Misses O'Neal. At twenty-five one cannot be unyielding in one's + avoidance of the sex. + </p> + <p> + Henderson, with his pony at a fine lope, was on his way to town one day, + in that comfortable frame of mind adduced by an absence of any ideas + whatever, when he suddenly became conscious of a shiver that seemed to run + from his legs to the pony, and back again. The animal gave a startled + leap, and lifted his ears. There was a stirring in the coarse grasses; the + sky, which a moment before had been like sapphire, dulled with an + indescribable grayness. + </p> + <p> + Then came a little singing afar off, as if from a distant convocation of + cicadae, and before Henderson could guess what it meant, a cloud of dust + was upon him, blinding and bewildering, pricking with sharp particles at + eyes and nostrils. The pony was an ugly fellow, and when Henderson felt + him put his forefeet together, he knew what that meant, and braced himself + for the struggle. But it was useless; he had not yet acquired the knack of + staying on the back of a bucking bronco, and the next moment he was on the + ground, and around him whirled that saffron chaos of dust. The temperature + lowered every moment. Henderson instinctively felt that this was but the + beginning of the storm. He picked himself up without useless regrets for + his pony, and made his way on. + </p> + <p> + The saffron hue turned to blackness, and then out of the murk shot a + living green ball of fire, and ploughed into the earth. Then sheets of + water, that seemed to come simultaneously from earth and sky, swept the + prairie, and in the midst of it struggled Henderson, weak as a little + child, half bereft of sense by the strange numbness of head and dullness + of eye. Another of those green balls fell and burst, as it actually + appeared to him, before his horrified eyes, and the bellow and blare of + the explosion made him cry out in a madness of fright and physical pain. + In the illumination he had seen a cabin only a few feet in front of him, + and toward it he made frantically, with an animal's instinctive desire for + shelter. + </p> + <p> + The door did not yield at once to his pressure, and in the panic of his + fear he threw his weight against it. There was a cry from within, a fall, + and Henderson flung himself in the cabin and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + In the dusk of the storm he saw a woman half prostrate. It was she whom he + had pushed from the door. He caught the hook in its staple, and turned to + raise her. She was not trembling as much as he, but, like himself, she was + dizzy with the shock of the lightning. In the midst of all the clamor + Henderson heard a shrill crying, and looking toward the side of the room, + he dimly perceived three tiny forms crouched in one of the bunks. The + woman took the smallest of the children in her arms, and kissed and + soothed it; and Henderson, after he had thrown a blanket at the bottom of + the door to keep out the drifting rain, sat with his back to it, bracing + it against the wind, lest the frail staple should give way. He managed + some way to reach out and lay hold of the other little ones, and got them + in his arms,—a boy, so tiny he seemed hardly human, and a girl + somewhat sturdier. They cuddled in his arms, and clutched his clothes with + their frantic little hands, and the three sat so while the earth and the + heavens seemed to be meeting in angry combat. + </p> + <p> + And back and forth, back and forth, in the dimness swayed the body of the + woman, hushing her babe. + </p> + <p> + Almost as suddenly as the darkness had fallen, it lifted. The lightning + ceased to threaten, and almost frolicked,—little wayward flashes of + white and yellow dancing in mid-air. The wind wailed less frequently, like + a child who sobs in its sleep. And at last Henderson could make his voice + heard. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything to build a fire with?” he shouted. “The children are + shivering so.” + </p> + <p> + The woman pointed to a basket of buffalo chips in the corner, and he + wrapped his little companions up in a blanket while he made a fire in the + cooking-stove. The baby was sleeping by this time, and the woman began + tidying the cabin, and when the fire was burning brightly, she put some + coffee on. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had some clothes to offer you,” she said, when the wind had + subsided sufficiently to make talking possible. “I'm afraid you'll have to + let them get dry on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's of no consequence at all! We're lucky to get off with our + lives. I never saw anything so terrible. Fancy! half an hour ago it was + summer; now it is winter!” + </p> + <p> + “It seems rather sudden when you're not used to it,” the woman admitted. + “I've lived in the West six years now; you can't frighten me any more. We + never die out here before our time comes.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to know that I haven't been here long,” said Henderson, with + some chagrin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” admitted the woman; “you have the ear-marks of a man from the + East.” + </p> + <p> + She was a tall woman, with large blue eyes, and a remarkable quantity of + yellow hair braided on top of her head. Her gown was of calico, of such a + pattern as a widow might wear. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't been out of town a week yet,” she said. “We're not half + settled. Not having any one to help makes it harder; and the baby is + rather fretful.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're not alone with all these little codgers?” cried Henderson, in + dismay. + </p> + <p> + The woman turned toward him with a sort of defiance. “Yes, I am,” she + said; “and I'm as strong as a horse, and I mean to get through all right. + Here were the three children in my arms, you may say, and no way to get in + a cent. I wasn't going to stand it just to please other folk. I said, let + them talk if they want to, but I'm going to hold down a claim, and be + accumulating something while the children are getting up a bit. Oh, I'm + not afraid!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of this bold assertion of bravery, there was a sort of break in + her voice. She was putting dishes on the table as she talked, and turned + some ham in the skillet, and got the children up before the fire, and + dropped some eggs in water,—all with a rapidity that bewildered + Henderson. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been alone?” he asked, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Three months before baby was born, and he's five months old now. I—I—you + think I can get on here, don't you? There was nothing else to do.” + </p> + <p> + She was folding another blanket over the sleeping baby now, and the action + brought to her guest the recollection of a thousand tender moments of his + dimly remembered youth. + </p> + <p> + “You'll get on if we have anything to do with it,” he cried, suppressing + an oath with difficulty, just from pure emotion. + </p> + <p> + And he told her about the three Johns' ranch, and found it was only three + miles distant, and that both were on the same road; only her cabin, having + been put up during the past week, had of course been unknown to him. So it + ended in a sort of compact that they were to help each other in such ways + as they could. Meanwhile the fire got genial, and the coffee filled the + cabin with its comfortable scent, and all of them ate together quite + merrily, Henderson cutting up the ham for the youngsters; and he told how + he chanced to come out; and she entertained him with stories of what she + thought at first when she was brought a bride to Hamilton, the adjacent + village, and convulsed him with stories of the people, whom she saw with + humorous eyes. + </p> + <p> + Henderson marvelled how she could in those few minutes have rescued the + cabin from the desolation in which the storm had plunged it. Out of the + window he could see the stricken grasses dripping cold moisture, and the + sky still angrily plunging forward like a disturbed sea. Not a tree or a + house broke the view. The desolation of it swept over him as it never had + before. But within the little ones were chattering to themselves in odd + baby dialect, and the mother was laughing with them. + </p> + <p> + “Women aren't always useless,” she said, at parting; “and you tell your + chums that when they get hungry for a slice of homemade bread they can get + it here. And the next time they go by, I want them to stop in and look at + the children. It'll do them good. They may think they won't enjoy + themselves, but they will.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll answer for that!” cried he, shaking hands with her. “I'll tell + them we have just the right sort of a neighbor.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said she, heartily. “And you may tell them that her name is + Catherine Ford.” + </p> + <p> + Once at home, he told his story. + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” said Gillispie, “I guess I'll have to go to town myself to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Henderson looked at him blackly. “She's a woman alone, Gillispie,” said + he, severely, “trying to make her way with handicaps—” + </p> + <p> + “Shet up, can't ye, ye darned fool?” roared Gillispie. “What do yeh take + me fur?” + </p> + <p> + Waite was putting on his rubber coat preparatory to going out for his + night with the cattle. “Guess you're makin' a mistake, my boy,” he said, + gently. “There ain't no danger of any woman bein' treated rude in these + parts.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, by Jove!” cried Henderson, in quick contriteness. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” grunted Gillispie, in tacit acceptance of this apology. “I + guess you thought you was in civilized parts.” + </p> + <p> + Two days after this Waite came in late to his supper. “Well, I seen her,” + he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! did you?” cried Henderson, knowing perfectly well whom he meant. + “What was she doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Killin' snakes, b'gosh! She says th' baby's crazy fur um, an' so she + takes aroun' a hoe on her shoulder wherever she goes, an' when she sees a + snake, she has it out with 'im then an' there. I says to 'er, 'Yer don't + expec' t' git all th' snakes outen this here country, d' yeh?' 'Well,' she + says, 'I'm as good a man as St. Patrick any day.' She is a jolly one, + Henderson. She tuk me in an' showed me th' kids, and give me a loaf of + gingerbread to bring home. Here it is; see?” + </p> + <p> + “Hu!” said Gillispie. “I'm not in it.” But for all of his scorn he was not + above eating the gingerbread. + </p> + <p> + It was gardening time, and the three Johns were putting in every spare + moment in the little paling made of willow twigs behind the house. It was + little enough time they had, though, for the cattle were new to each other + and to the country, and they were hard to manage. It was generally + conceded that Waite had a genius for herding, and he could take the “mad” + out of a fractious animal in a way that the others looked on as little + less than superhuman. Thus it was that one day, when the clay had been + well turned, and the seeds arranged on the kitchen table, and all things + prepared for an afternoon of busy planting, that Waite and Henderson, who + were needed out with the cattle, felt no little irritation at the + inexplicable absence of Gillispie, who was to look after the garden. It + was quite nightfall when he at last returned. Supper was ready, although + it had been Gillispie's turn to prepare it. + </p> + <p> + Henderson was sore from his saddle, and cross at having to do more than + his share of the work. “Damn yeh!” he cried, as Gillispie appeared. “Where + yeh been?” + </p> + <p> + “Making garden,” responded Gillispie, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Making garden!” Henderson indulged in some more harmless oaths. + </p> + <p> + Just then Gillispie drew from under his coat a large and friendly looking + apple-pie. “Yes,” he said, with emphasis; “I've bin a-makin' garden fur + Mis' Ford.” + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that the three Johns knew her and served her, and + that she never had a need that they were not ready to supply if they + could. Not one of them would have thought of going to town without + stopping to inquire what was needed at the village. As for Catherine Ford, + she was fighting her way with native pluck and maternal unselfishness. If + she had feared solitude she did not suffer from it. The activity of her + life stifled her fresh sorrow. She was pleasantly excited by the rumors + that a railroad was soon to be built near the place, which would raise the + value of the claim she was “holding down” many thousand dollars. + </p> + <p> + It is marvellous how sorrow shrinks when one is very healthy and very much + occupied. Although poverty was her close companion, Catherine had no + thought of it in this primitive manner of living. She had come out there, + with the independence and determination of a Western woman, for the + purpose of living at the least possible expense, and making the most she + could while the baby was “getting out of her arms.” That process has its + pleasures, which every mother feels in spite of burdens, and the mind is + happily dulled by nature's merciful provision. With a little child tugging + at the breast, care and fret vanish, not because of the happiness so much + as because of a certain mammal complacency, which is not at all + intellectual, but serves its purpose better than the profoundest method of + reasoning. + </p> + <p> + So without any very unbearable misery at her recent widowhood, this + healthy young woman worked in field and house, cared for her little ones, + milked the two cows out in the corral, sewed, sang, rode, baked, and was + happy for very wholesomeness. Sometimes she reproached herself that she + was not more miserable, remembering that long grave back in the unkempt + little prairie cemetery, and she sat down to coax her sorrow into proper + prominence. But the baby cooing at her from its bunk, the low of the + cattle from the corral begging her to relieve their heavy bags, the + familiar call of one of her neighbors from without, even the burning sky + of the summer dawns, broke the spell of this conjured sorrow, and in spite + of herself she was again a very hearty and happy young woman. Besides, if + one has a liking for comedy, it is impossible to be dull on a Nebraska + prairie. The people are a merrier divertissement than the theatre with its + hackneyed stories. Catherine Ford laughed a good deal, and she took the + three Johns into her confidence, and they laughed with her. There was + Minerva Fitch, who insisted on coming over to tell Catherine how to raise + her children, and who was almost offended that the children wouldn't die + of sunstroke when she predicted. And there was Bob Ackerman, who had + inflammatory rheumatism and a Past, and who confided the latter to Mrs. + Ford while she doctored the former with homoeopathic medicines. And there + were all the strange visionaries who came out prospecting, and quite + naturally drifted to Mrs. Ford's cabin for a meal, and paid her in + compliments of a peculiarly Western type. And there were the three Johns + themselves. Catherine considered it no treason to laugh at them a little. + </p> + <p> + Yet at Waite she did not laugh much. There had come to be something + pathetic in the constant service he rendered her. The beginning of his + more particular devotion had started in a particular way. Malaria was very + bad in the country. It had carried off some of the most vigorous on the + prairie, and twice that summer Catherine herself had laid out the cold + forms of her neighbors on ironing-boards, and, with the assistance of Bill + Deems of Missourah, had read the burial service over them. She had averted + several other fatal runs of fever by the contents of her little + medicine-case. These remedies she dealt out with an intelligence that + astonished her patients, until it was learned that she was studying + medicine at the time that she met her late husband, and was persuaded to + assume the responsibilities of matrimony instead of those of the medical + profession. + </p> + <p> + One day in midsummer, when the sun was focussing itself on the raw pine + boards of her shanty, and Catherine had the shades drawn for coolness and + the water-pitcher swathed in wet rags, East Indian fashion, she heard the + familiar halloo of Waite down the road. This greeting, which was usually + sent to her from the point where the dipping road lifted itself into the + first view of the house, did not contain its usual note of cheerfulness. + Catherine, wiping her hands on her checked apron, ran out to wave a + welcome; and Waite, his squat body looking more distorted than ever, his + huge shoulders lurching as he walked, came fairly plunging down the hill. + </p> + <p> + “It's all up with Henderson!” he cried, as Catherine approached. “He's got + the malery, an' he says he's dyin'.” + </p> + <p> + “That's no sign he's dying, because he says so,” retorted Catherine. + </p> + <p> + “He wants to see yeh,” panted Waite, mopping his big ugly head. “I think + he's got somethin' particular to say.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has he been down?” + </p> + <p> + “Three days; an' yeh wouldn't know 'im.” + </p> + <p> + The children were playing on the floor at that side of the house where it + was least hot. Catherine poured out three bowls of milk, and cut some + bread, meanwhile telling Kitty how to feed the baby. + </p> + <p> + “She's a sensible thing, is the little daughter,” said Catherine, as she + tied on her sunbonnet and packed a little basket with things from the + cupboard. She kissed the babies tenderly, flung her hoe—her only + weapon of defence—over her shoulder, and the two started off. + </p> + <p> + They did not speak, for their throats were soon too parched. The prairie + was burned brown with the sun; the grasses curled as if they had been on a + gridiron. A strong wind was blowing; but it brought no comfort, for it was + heavy with a scorching heat. The skin smarted and blistered under it, and + the eyes felt as if they were filled with sand. The sun seemed to swing + but a little way above the earth, and though the sky was intensest blue, + around about this burning ball there was a halo of copper, as if the very + ether were being consumed in yellow fire. + </p> + <p> + Waite put some big burdock-leaves on Catherine's head under her bonnet, + and now and then he took a bottle of water from his pocket and made her + swallow a mouthful. She staggered often as she walked, and the road was + black before her. Still, it was not very long before the oddly shaped + shack of the three Johns came in sight; and as he caught a glimpse of it, + Waite quickened his footsteps. + </p> + <p> + “What if he should be gone?” he said, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come off!” said Catherine, angrily. “He's not gone. You make me + tired!” + </p> + <p> + But she was trembling when she stopped just before the door to compose + herself for a moment. Indeed, she trembled so very much that Waite put out + his sprawling hand to steady her. She gently felt the pressure tightening, + and Waite whispered in her ear: + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'd stand by him as well as anybody, excep' you, Mis' Ford. He's + been my bes' friend. But I guess you like him better, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Catherine raised her finger. She could hear Henderson's voice within; it + was pitiably querulous. He was half sitting up in his bunk, and Gillispie + had just handed him a plate on which two cakes were swimming in black + molasses and pork gravy. Henderson looked at it a moment; then over his + face came a look of utter despair. He dropped his head in his arms and + broke into uncontrolled crying. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God, Gillispie,” he sobbed, “I shall die out here in this wretched + hole! I want my mother. Great God, Gillispie, am I going to die without + ever seeing my mother?” + </p> + <p> + Gillispie, maddened at this anguish, which he could in no way alleviate, + sought comfort by first lighting his pipe and then taking his revolver out + of his hip-pocket and playing with it. Henderson continued to shake with + sobs, and Catherine, who had never before in her life heard a man cry, + leaned against the door for a moment to gather courage. Then she ran into + the house quickly, laughing as she came. She took Henderson's arms away + from his face and laid him back on the pillow, and she stooped over him + and kissed his forehead in the most matter-of-fact way. + </p> + <p> + “That's what your mother would do if she were here,” she cried, merrily. + “Where's the water?” + </p> + <p> + She washed his face and hands a long time, till they were cool and his + convulsive sobs had ceased. Then she took a slice of thin bread from her + basket and a spoonful of amber jelly. She beat an egg into some milk and + dropped a little liquor within it, and served them together on the first + clean napkin that had been in the cabin of the three Johns since it was + built. + </p> + <p> + At this the great fool on the bed cried again, only quietly, tears of weak + happiness running from his feverish eyes. And Catherine straightened the + disorderly cabin. She came every day for two weeks, and by that time + Henderson, very uncertain as to the strength of his legs, but once more + accoutred in his native pluck, sat up in a chair, for which she had made + clean soft cushions, writing a letter to his mother. The floor was + scrubbed; the cabin had taken to itself cupboards made of packing-boxes; + it had clothes-presses and shelves; curtains at the windows; boxes for all + sort of necessaries, from flour to tobacco; and a cook-book on the wall, + with an inscription within which was more appropriate than respectful. + </p> + <p> + The day that she announced that she would have no further call to come + back, Waite, who was looking after the house while Gillispie was afield, + made a little speech. + </p> + <p> + “After this here,” he said, “we four stands er falls together. Now look + here, there's lots of things can happen to a person on this cussed praira, + and no one be none th' wiser. So see here, Mis' Ford, every night one of + us is a-goin' to th' roof of this shack. From there we can see your place. + If anything is th' matter—it don't signify how little er how big—you + hang a lantern on th' stick that I'll put alongside th' house to-morrow. + Yeh can h'ist th' light up with a string, and every mornin' before we go + out we'll look too, and a white rag'll bring us quick as we can git there. + We don't say nothin' about what we owe yeh, fur that ain't our way, but we + sticks to each other from this on.” + </p> + <p> + Catherine's eyes were moist. She looked at Henderson. His face had no + expression in it at all. He did not even say good-by to her, and she + turned, with the tears suddenly dried under her lids, and walked down the + road in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + Weeks went by, and though Gillispie and Waite were often at Catherine's, + Henderson never came. Gillispie gave it out as his opinion that Henderson + was an ungrateful puppy; but Waite said nothing. This strange man, who + seemed like a mere untoward accident of nature, had changed during the + summer. His big ill-shaped body had grown more gaunt; his deep-set gray + eyes had sunk deeper; the gentleness which had distinguished him even on + the wild ranges of Montana became more marked. Late in August he + volunteered to take on himself the entire charge of the night watch. + </p> + <p> + “It's nicer to be out at night,” he said to Catherine. “Then you don't + keep looking off at things; you can look inside;” and he struck his breast + with his splay hand. + </p> + <p> + Cattle are timorous under the stars. The vastness of the plains, the sweep + of the wind under the unbroken arch, frighten them; they are made for the + close comforts of the barn-yard; and the apprehension is contagious, as + every ranchman knows. Waite realized the need of becoming good friends + with his animals. Night after night, riding up and down in the twilight of + the stars, or dozing, rolled in his blanket, in the shelter of a knoll, he + would hear a low roar; it was the cry of the alarmist. Then from every + direction the cattle would rise with trembling awkwardness on their knees, + and answer, giving out sullen bellowings. Some of them would begin to move + from place to place, spreading the baseless alarm, and then came the time + for action, else over the plain in mere fruitless frenzy would go the + whole frantic band, lashed to madness by their own fears, trampling each + other, heedless of any obstacle, in pitiable, deadly rout. Waite knew the + premonitory signs well, and at the first warning bellow he was on his + feet, alert and determined, his energy nerved for a struggle in which he + always conquered. + </p> + <p> + Waite had a secret which he told to none, knowing, in his unanalytical + fashion, that it would not be believed in. But soon as ever the dark heads + of the cattle began to lift themselves, he sent a resonant voice out into + the stillness. The songs he sang were hymns, and he made them into a sort + of imperative lullaby. Waite let his lungs and soul fill with the breath + of the night; he gave himself up to the exaltation of mastering those + trembling brutes. Mounting, melodious, with even and powerful swing he let + his full notes fall on the air in the confidence of power, and one by one + the reassured cattle would lie down again, lowing in soft contentment, and + so fall asleep with noses stretched out in mute attention, till their + presence could hardly be guessed except for the sweet aroma of their cuds. + </p> + <p> + One night in the early dusk, he saw Catherine Ford hastening across the + prairie with Bill Deems. He sent a halloo out to them, which they both + answered as they ran on. Waite knew on what errand of mercy Catherine was + bent, and he thought of the children over at the cabin alone. The cattle + were quiet, the night beautiful, and he concluded that it was safe enough, + since he was on his pony, to ride down there about midnight and see that + the little ones were safe. + </p> + <p> + The dark sky, pricked with points of intensest light, hung over him so + beneficently that in his heart there leaped a joy which even his + ever-present sorrow could not disturb. This sorrow Waite openly admitted + not only to himself, but to others. He had said to Catherine: “You see, + I'll always hev to love yeh. An' yeh'll not git cross with me; I'm not + goin' to be in th' way.” And Catherine had told him, with tears in her + eyes, that his love could never be but a comfort to any woman. And these + words, which the poor fellow had in no sense mistaken, comforted him + always, became part of his joy as he rode there, under those piercing + stars, to look after her little ones. He found them sleeping in their + bunks, the baby tight in Kitty's arms, the little boy above them in the + upper bunk, with his hand in the long hair of his brown spaniel. Waite + softly kissed each of them, so Kitty, who was half waking, told her mother + afterwards, and then, bethinking him that Catherine might not be able to + return in time for their breakfast, found the milk and bread, and set it + for them on the table. Catherine had been writing, and her unfinished + letter lay open beside the ink. He took up the pen and wrote, + </p> + <p> + “The childdren was all asleep at twelv. + </p> + <p> + “J. W.” + </p> + <p> + He had not more than got on his pony again before he heard an ominous + sound that made his heart leap. It was a frantic dull pounding of hoofs. + He knew in a second what it meant. There was a stampede among the cattle. + If the animals had all been his, he would not have lost his sense of + judgment. But the realization that he had voluntarily undertaken the care + of them, and that the larger part of them belonged to his friends, put him + in a passion of apprehension that, as a ranchman, was almost inexplicable. + He did the very thing of all others that no cattle-man in his right senses + would think of doing. Gillispie and Henderson, talking it over afterward, + were never able to understand it. It is possible—just barely + possible—that Waite, still drunk on his solitary dreams, knew what + he was doing, and chose to bring his little chapter to an end while the + lines were pleasant. At any rate, he rode straight forward, shouting and + waving his arms in an insane endeavor to head off that frantic mob. The + noise woke the children, and they peered from the window as the pawing and + bellowing herd plunged by, trampling the young steers under their feet. + </p> + <p> + In the early morning, Catherine Ford, spent both in mind and body, came + walking slowly home. In her heart was a prayer of thanksgiving. Mary Deems + lay sleeping back in her comfortless shack, with her little son by her + side. + </p> + <p> + “The wonder of God is in it,” said Catherine to herself as she walked + home. “All the ministers of all the world could not have preached me such + a sermon as I've had to-night.” + </p> + <p> + So dim had been the light and so perturbed her mind that she had not + noticed how torn and trampled was the road. But suddenly a bulk in her + pathway startled her. It was the dead and mangled body of a steer. She + stooped over it to read the brand on its flank. “It's one of the three + Johns',” she cried out, looking anxiously about her. “How could that have + happened?” + </p> + <p> + The direction which the cattle had taken was toward her house, and she + hastened homeward. And not a quarter of a mile from her door she found the + body of Waite beside that of his pony, crushed out of its familiar form + into something unspeakably shapeless. In her excitement she half dragged, + half carried that mutilated body home, and then ran up her signal of alarm + on the stick that Waite himself had erected for her convenience. She + thought it would be a long time before any one reached her, but she had + hardly had time to bathe the disfigured face and straighten the disfigured + body before Henderson was pounding at her door. Outside stood his pony + panting from its terrific exertions. Henderson had not seen her before for + six weeks. Now he stared at her with frightened eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What is it?” he cried. “What has happened to you, my—my + love?” + </p> + <p> + At least afterward, thinking it over as she worked by day or tossed in her + narrow bunk at night, it seemed to Catherine that those were the words he + spoke. Yet she could never feel sure; nothing in his manner after that + justified the impassioned anxiety of his manner in those first few + uncertain moments; for a second later he saw the body of his friend and + learned the little that Catherine knew. They buried him the next day in a + little hollow where there was a spring and some wild aspens. + </p> + <p> + “He never liked the prairie,” Catherine said, when she selected the spot. + “And I want him to lie as sheltered as possible.” + </p> + <p> + After he had been laid at rest, and she was back, busy with tidying her + neglected shack, she fell to crying so that the children were scared. + </p> + <p> + “There's no one left to care what becomes of us,” she told them, bitterly. + “We might starve out here for all that any one cares.” + </p> + <p> + And all through the night her tears fell, and she told herself that they + were all for the man whose last thought was for her and her babies; she + told herself over and over again that her tears were all for him. After + this the autumn began to hurry on, and the snow fell capriciously, days of + biting cold giving place to retrospective glances at summer. The last of + the vegetables were taken out of the garden and buried in the cellar; and + a few tons of coal—dear almost as diamonds—were brought out to + provide against the severest weather. Ordinarily buffalo chips were the + fuel. Catherine was alarmed at the way her wretched little store of money + began to vanish. The baby was fretful with its teething, and was really + more care than when she nursed it. The days shortened, and it seemed to + her that she was forever working by lamp-light The prairies were brown and + forbidding, the sky often a mere gray pall. The monotony of the life began + to seem terrible. Sometimes her ears ached for a sound. For a time in the + summer so many had seemed to need her that she had been happy in spite of + her poverty and her loneliness. Now, suddenly, no one wanted her. She + could find no source of inspiration. She wondered how she was going to + live through the winter, and keep her patience and her good-nature. + </p> + <p> + “You'll love me,” she said, almost fiercely, one night to the children—“you'll + love mamma, no matter how cross and homely she gets, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + The cold grew day by day. A strong winter was setting in. Catherine took + up her study of medicine again, and sat over her books till midnight. It + occurred to her that she might fit herself for nursing by spring, and that + the children could be put with some one—she did not dare to think + with whom. But this was the only solution she could find to her problem of + existence. + </p> + <p> + November settled down drearily. Few passed the shack. Catherine, who had + no one to speak with excepting the children, continually devised + amusements for them. They got to living in a world of fantasy, and were + never themselves, but always wild Indians, or arctic explorers, or + Robinson Crusoes. Kitty and Roderick, young as they were, found a + never-ending source of amusement in these little grotesque dreams and + dramas. The fund of money was getting so low that Catherine was obliged to + economize even in the necessities. If it had not been for her two cows, + she would hardly have known how to find food for her little ones. But she + had a wonderful way of making things with eggs and milk, and she kept her + little table always inviting. The day before Thanksgiving she determined + that they should all have a frolic. + </p> + <p> + “By Christmas,” she said to Kitty, “the snow may be so bad that I cannot + get to town. We'll have our high old time now.” + </p> + <p> + There is no denying that Catherine used slang even in talking to the + children. The little pony had been sold long ago, and going to town meant + a walk of twelve miles. But Catherine started out early in the morning, + and was back by nightfall, not so very much the worse, and carrying in her + arms bundles which might have fatigued a bronco. + </p> + <p> + The next morning she was up early, and was as happy and ridiculously + excited over the prospect of the day's merrymaking as if she had been + Kitty. Busy as she was, she noticed a peculiar oppression in the air, + which intensified as the day went on. The sky seemed to hang but a little + way above the rolling stretch of frost-bitten grass. But Kitty laughing + over her new doll, Roderick startling the sullen silence with his drum, + the smell of the chicken, slaughtered to make a prairie holiday, browning + in the oven, drove all apprehensions from Catherine's mind. She was a + common creature. Such very little things could make her happy. She sang as + she worked; and what with the drumming of her boy, and the little exulting + shrieks of her baby, the shack was filled with a deafening and + exhilarating din. + </p> + <p> + It was a little past noon, when she became conscious that there was + sweeping down on her a gray sheet of snow and ice, and not till then did + she realize what those lowering clouds had signified. For one moment she + stood half paralyzed. She thought of everything,—of the cattle, of + the chance for being buried in this drift, of the stock of provisions, of + the power of endurance of the children. While she was still thinking, the + first ice-needles of the blizzard came peppering the windows. The cattle + ran bellowing to the lee side of the house and crouched there, and the + chickens scurried for the coop. Catherine seized such blankets and bits of + carpet as she could find, and crammed them at windows and doors. Then she + piled coal on the fire, and clothed the children in all they had that was + warmest, their out-door garments included; and with them close about her, + she sat and waited. The wind seemed to push steadily at the walls of the + house. The howling became horrible. She could see that the children were + crying with fright, but she could not hear them. The air was dusky; the + cold, in spite of the fire, intolerable. In every crevice of the wretched + structure the ice and snow made their way. It came through the roof, and + began piling up in little pointed strips under the crevices. Catherine put + the children all together in one bunk, covered them with all the + bedclothes she had, and then stood before them defiantly, facing the west, + from whence the wind was driving. Not suddenly, but by steady pressure, at + length the window-sash yielded, and the next moment that whirlwind was in + the house,—a maddening tumult of ice and wind, leaving no room for + resistance; a killing cold, against which it was futile to fight. + Catherine threw the bedclothes over the heads of the children, and then + threw herself across the bunk, gasping and choking for breath. Her body + would not have yielded to the suffering yet, so strongly made and + sustained was it; but her dismay stifled her. She saw in one horrified + moment the frozen forms of her babies, now so pink and pleasant to the + sense; and oblivion came to save her from further misery. + </p> + <p> + She was alive—just barely alive—when Gillispie and Henderson + got there, three hours later, the very balls of their eyes almost frozen + into blindness. But for an instinct stronger than reason they would never + have been able to have found their way across that trackless stretch. The + children lying unconscious under their coverings were neither dead nor + actually frozen, although the men putting their hands on their little + hearts could not at first discover the beating. Stiff and suffering as + these young fellows were, it was no easy matter to get the window back + into place and re-light the fire. They had tied flasks of liquor about + their waists; and this beneficent fluid they used with that sense of + appreciation which only a pioneer can feel toward whiskey. It was hours + before Catherine rewarded them with a gleam of consciousness. Her body had + been frozen in many places. Her arms, outstretched over her children and + holding the clothes down about them, were rigid. But consciousness came at + length, dimly struggling up through her brain; and over her she saw her + friends rubbing and rubbing those strong firm arms of hers with snow. + </p> + <p> + She half raised her head, with a horror of comprehension in her eyes, and + listened. A cry answered her,—a cry of dull pain from the baby. + Henderson dropped on his knees beside her. + </p> + <p> + “They are all safe,” he said. “And we will never leave you again. I have + been afraid to tell you how I love you. I thought I might offend you. I + thought I ought to wait—you know why. But I will never let you run + the risks of this awful life alone again. You must rename the baby. From + this day his name is John. And we will have the three Johns again back at + the old ranch. It doesn't matter whether you love me or not, Catherine, I + am going to take care of you just the same. Gillispie agrees with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Damme, yes,” muttered Gillispie, feeling of his hip-pocket for + consolation in his old manner. + </p> + <p> + Catherine struggled to find her voice, but it would not come. + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak,” whispered John. “Tell me with your eyes whether you will + come as my wife or only as our sister.” + </p> + <p> + Catherine told him. + </p> + <p> + “This is Thanksgiving day,” said he. “And we don't know much about + praying, but I guess we all have something in our hearts that does just as + well.” + </p> + <p> + “Damme, yes,” said Gillispie, again, as he pensively cocked and uncocked + his revolver. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A Resuscitation + </h2> + <h3> + AFTER being dead twenty years, he walked out into the sunshine. + </h3> + <p> + It was as if the bones of a bleached skeleton should join themselves on + some forgotten plain, and look about them for the vanished flesh. + </p> + <p> + To be dead it is not necessary to be in the grave. There are places where + the worms creep about the heart instead of the body. + </p> + <p> + The penitentiary is one of these. David Culross had been in the + penitentiary twenty years. Now, with that worm-eaten heart, he came out + into liberty and looked about him for the habiliments with which he had + formerly clothed himself,—for hope, self-respect, courage, + pugnacity, and industry. + </p> + <p> + But they had vanished and left no trace, like the flesh of the dead men on + the plains, and so, morally unapparelled, in the hideous skeleton of his + manhood, he walked on down the street under the mid-June sunshine. + </p> + <p> + You can understand, can you not, how a skeleton might wish to get back + into its comfortable grave? David Culross had not walked two blocks before + he was seized with an almost uncontrollable desire to beg to be shielded + once more in that safe and shameful retreat from which he had just been + released. A horrible perception of the largeness of the world swept over + him. Space and eternity could seem no larger to the usual man than earth—that + snug and insignificant planet—looked to David Culross. + </p> + <p> + “If I go back,” he cried, despairingly, looking up to the great building + that arose above the stony hills, “they will not take me in.” He was + absolutely without a refuge, utterly without a destination; he did not + have a hope. There was nothing he desired except the surrounding of those + four narrow walls between which he had lain at night and dreamed those + ever-recurring dreams,-dreams which were never prophecies or promises, but + always the hackneyed history of what he had sacrificed by his crime, and + relinquished by his pride. + </p> + <p> + The men who passed him looked at him with mingled amusement and pity. They + knew the “prison look,” and they knew the prison clothes. For though the + State gives to its discharged convicts clothes which are like those of + other men, it makes a hundred suits from the same sort of cloth. The + police know the fabric, and even the citizens recognize it. But, then, + were each man dressed in different garb he could not be disguised. Every + one knows in what dull school that sidelong glance is learned, that + aimless drooping of the shoulders, that rhythmic lifting of the heavy + foot. + </p> + <p> + David Culross wondered if his will were dead. He put it to the test. He + lifted up his head to a position which it had not held for many miserable + years. He put his hands in his pockets in a pitiful attempt at + nonchalance, and walked down the street with a step which was meant to be + brisk, but which was in fact only uncertain. In his pocket were ten + dollars. This much the State equips a man with when it sends him out of + its penal halls. It gives him also transportation to any point within + reasonable distance that he may desire to reach. Culross had requested a + ticket to Chicago. He naturally said Chicago. In the long colorless days + it had been in Chicago that all those endlessly repeated scenes had been + laid. Walking up the street now with that wavering ineffectual gait, these + scenes came back to surge in his brain like waters ceaselessly tossed in a + wind-swept basin. + </p> + <p> + There was the office, bare and clean, where the young stoop-shouldered + clerks sat writing. In their faces was a strange resemblance, just as + there was in the backs of the ledgers, and in the endless bills on the + spindles. If one of them laughed, it was not with gayety, but with + gratification at the discomfiture of another. None of them ate well. None + of them were rested after sleep. All of them rode on the stuffy one-horse + cars to and from their work. Sundays they lay in bed very late, and ate + more dinner than they could digest. There was a certain fellowship among + them,—such fellowship as a band of captives among cannibals might + feel, each of them waiting with vital curiosity to see who was the next to + be eaten. But of that fellowship that plans in unison, suffers in + sympathy, enjoys vicariously, strengthens into friendship and communion of + soul they knew nothing. Indeed, such camaraderie would have been + disapproved of by the Head Clerk. He would have looked on an emotion with + exactly the same displeasure that he would on an error in the footing of + the year's accounts. It was tacitly understood that one reached the proud + position of Head Clerk by having no emotions whatever. + </p> + <p> + Culross did not remember having been born with a pen in his hand, or even + with one behind his ear; but certainly from the day he had been let out of + knickerbockers his constant companion had been that greatly overestimated + article. His father dying at a time that cut short David's school-days, he + went out armed with his new knowledge of double-entry, determined to make + a fortune and a commercial name. Meantime, he lived in a suite of three + rooms on West Madison Street with his mother, who was a good woman, and + lived where she did that she might be near her favorite meeting-house. She + prayed, and cooked bad dinners, principally composed of dispiriting + pastry. Her idea of house-keeping was to keep the shades down, whatever + happened; and when David left home in the evening for any purpose of + pleasure, she wept. David persuaded himself that he despised amusement, + and went to bed each night at half-past nine in a folding bedstead in the + front room, and, by becoming absolutely stolid from mere vegetation, + imagined that he was almost fit to be a Head Clerk. + </p> + <p> + Walking down the street now after the twenty years, thinking of these dead + but innocent days, this was the picture he saw; and as he reflected upon + it, even the despoiled and desolate years just passed seemed richer by + contrast. + </p> + <p> + He reached the station thus dreaming, and found, as he had been told when + the warden bade him good-by, that a train was to be at hand directly bound + to the city. A few moments later he was on that train. Well back in the + shadow, and out of sight of the other passengers, he gave himself up to + the enjoyment of the comfortable cushion. He would willingly have looked + from the window,—green fields were new and wonderful; drifting + clouds a marvel; men, houses, horses, farms, all a revelation,—but + those haunting visions were at him again, and would not leave brain or eye + free for other things. + </p> + <p> + But the next scene had warmer tints. It was the interior of a rich room,—crimson + and amber fabrics, flowers, the gleam of a statue beyond the drapings; the + sound of a tender piano unflinging a familiar melody, and a woman. She was + just a part of all the luxury. + </p> + <p> + He himself, very timid and conscious of his awkwardness, sat near, trying + barrenly to get some of his thoughts out of his brain on to his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Strange, isn't it,” the woman broke in on her own music, “that we have + seen each other so very often and never spoken? I've often thought + introductions were ridiculous. Fancy seeing a person year in and year out, + and really knowing all about him, and being perfectly acquainted with his + name—at least his or her name, you know—and then never + speaking! Some one comes along, and says, 'Miss Le Baron, this is Mr. + Culross,' just as if one didn't know that all the time! And there you are! + You cease to be dumb folks, and fall to talking, and say a lot of things + neither of you care about, and after five or six weeks of time and sundry + meetings, get down to honestly saying what you mean. I'm so glad we've got + through with that first stage, and can say what we think and tell what we + really like.” + </p> + <p> + Then the playing began again,—a harplike intermingling of soft + sounds. Zoe Le Baron's hands were very girlish. Everything about her was + unformed. Even her mind was so. But all promised a full completion. The + voice, the shoulders, the smile, the words, the lips, the arms, the whole + mind and body, were rounding to maturity. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you never come to church in the morning?” asks Miss Le Baron, + wheeling around on her piano-stool suddenly. “You are only there at night, + with your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I go only on her account,” replies David, truthfully. “In the morning I + am so tired with the week's work that I rest at home. I ought to go, I + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you ought,” returns the young woman, gravely. “It doesn't really + rest one to lie in bed like that. I've tried it at boarding-school. It was + no good whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Should you advise me,” asks David, in a confiding tone, “to arise early + on Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + The girl blushes a little. “By all means!” she cries, her eyes twinkling, + “and—and come to church. Our morning sermons are really very much + better than those in the evening.” And she plays a waltz, and what with + the music and the warmth of the room and the perfume of the roses, a + something nameless and mystical steals over the poor clerk, and swathes + him about like the fumes of opium. They are alone. The silence is made + deeper by that rhythmic unswelling of sound. As the painter flushes the + bare wall into splendor, these emotions illuminated his soul, and gave to + it that high courage that comes when men or women suddenly realize that + each life has its significance,-their own lives no less than the lives of + others. + </p> + <p> + The man sitting there in the shadow in that noisy train saw in his vision + how the lad arose and moved, like one under a spell, toward the piano. He + felt again the enchantment of the music-ridden quiet, of the perfume, and + the presence of the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Knowing you and speaking with you have not made much difference with me,” + he whispers, drunk on the new wine of passion, “for I have loved you since + I saw you first. And though it is so sweet to hear you speak, your voice + is no more beautiful than I thought it would be. I have loved you a long + time, and I want to know—” + </p> + <p> + The broken man in the shadow remembered how the lad stopped, astonished at + his boldness and his fluency, overcome suddenly at the thought of what he + was saying. The music stopped with a discord. The girl arose, trembling + and scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “I would not have believed it of you,” she cries, “to take advantage of me + like this, when I am alone—and—everything. You know very well + that nothing but trouble could come to either of us from your telling me a + thing like that.” + </p> + <p> + He puts his hands up to his face to keep off her anger. He is trembling + with confusion. + </p> + <p> + Then she broke in penitently, trying to pull his hands away from his hot + face: “Never mind! I know you didn't mean anything. Be good, do, and don't + spoil the lovely times we have together. You know very well father and + mother wouldn't let us see each other at all if they—if they thought + you were saying anything such as you said just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I can't help it!” cries the boy, despairingly. “I have never + loved anybody at all till now. I don't mean not another girl, you know. + But you are the first being I ever cared for. I sometimes think mother + cares for me because I pay the rent. And the office—you can't + imagine what that is like. The men in it are moving corpses. They're proud + to be that way, and so was I till I knew you and learned what life was + like. All the happy moments I have had have been here. Now, if you tell me + that we are not to care for each other—” + </p> + <p> + There was some one coming down the hall. The curtain lifted. A middle-aged + man stood there looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “Culross,” said he, “I'm disappointed in you. I didn't mean to listen, but + I couldn't help hearing what you said just now. I don't blame you + particularly. Young men will be fools. And I do not in any way mean to + insult you when I tell you to stop your coming here. I don't want to see + you inside this door again, and after a while you will thank me for it. + You have taken a very unfair advantage of my invitation. I make allowances + for your youth.” + </p> + <p> + He held back the curtain for the lad to pass out. David threw a miserable + glance at the girl. She was standing looking at her father with an + expression that David could not fathom. He went into the hall, picked up + his hat, and walked out in silence. + </p> + <p> + David wondered that night, walking the chilly streets after he quitted the + house, and often, often afterward, if that comfortable and prosperous + gentleman, safe beyond the perturbations of youth, had any idea of what he + had done. How COULD he know anything of the black monotony of the life of + the man he turned from his door? The “desk's dead wood” and all its + hateful slavery, the dull darkened rooms where his mother prosed through + endless evenings, the bookless, joyless, hopeless existence that had + cramped him all his days rose up before him, as a stretch of unbroken + plain may rise before a lost man till it maddens him. + </p> + <p> + The bowed man in the car-seat remembered with a flush of reminiscent + misery how the lad turned suddenly in his walk and entered the door of a + drinking-room that stood open. It was very comfortable within. The screens + kept out the chill of the autumn night, the sawdust-sprinkled floor was + clean, the tables placed near together, the bar glittering, the attendants + white-aproned and brisk. + </p> + <p> + David liked the place, and he liked better still the laughter that came + from a room within. It had a note in it a little different from anything + he had ever heard before in his life, and one that echoed his mood. He + ventured to ask if he might go into the farther room. + </p> + <p> + It does not mean much when most young men go to a place like this. They + take their bit of unwholesome dissipation quietly enough, and are a little + coarser and more careless each time they indulge in it, perhaps. But + certainly their acts, whatever gradual deterioration they may indicate, + bespeak no sudden moral revolution. With this young clerk it was + different. He was a worse man from the moment he entered the door, for he + did violence to his principles; he killed his self-respect. + </p> + <p> + He had been paid at the office that night, and he had the money—a + week's miserable pittance—in his pocket. His every action revealed + the fact that he was a novice in recklessness. His innocent face piqued + the men within. They gave him a welcome that amazed him. Of course the + rest of the evening was a chaos to him. The throat down which he poured + the liquor was as tender as a child's. The men turned his head with their + ironical compliments. Their boisterous good-fellowship was as intoxicating + to this poor young recluse as the liquor. + </p> + <p> + It was the revulsion from this feeling, when he came to a consciousness + that the men were laughing at him and not with him, that wrecked his life. + He had gone from beer to whiskey, and from whiskey to brandy, by this + time, at the suggestion of the men, and was making awkward lunges with a + billiard cue, spurred on by the mocking applause of the others. One young + fellow was particularly hilarious at his expense. His jokes became + insults, or so they seemed to David. + </p> + <p> + A quarrel followed, half a jest on the part of the other, all serious as + far as David was concerned. And then—Well, who could tell how it + happened? The billiard cue was in David's hand, and the skull of the + jester was split, a horrible gaping thing, revoltingly animal. + </p> + <p> + David never saw his home again. His mother gave it out in church that her + heart was broken, and she wrote a letter to David begging him to reform. + She said she would never cease to pray for him, that he might return to + grace. He had an attorney, an impecunious and very aged gentleman, whose + life was a venerable failure, and who talked so much about his personal + inconveniences from indigestion that he forgot to take a very keen + interest in the concerns of his client. David's trial made no sensation. + He did not even have the cheap sympathy of the morbid. The court-room was + almost empty the dull spring day when the east wind beat against the + window, jangling the loose panes all through the reading of the verdict. + </p> + <p> + Twenty years! + </p> + <p> + Twenty years in the penitentiary! + </p> + <p> + David looked up at the judge and smiled. Men have been known to smile that + way when the car-wheel crashes over their legs, or a bullet lets the air + through their lungs. + </p> + <p> + All that followed would have seemed more terrible if it had not appeared + to be so remote. David had to assure himself over and over that it was + really he who was put in that disgraceful dress, and locked in that + shameful walk from corridor to workroom, from work-room to chapel. The + work was not much more monotonous than that to which he had been + accustomed in the office. Here, as there, one was reproved for not doing + the required amount, but never praised for extraordinary efforts. Here, as + there, the workers regarded each other with dislike and suspicion. Here, + as there, work was a penalty and not a pleasure. + </p> + <p> + It is the nights that are to be dreaded in a penitentiary. Speech eases + the brain of free men; but the man condemned to eternal silence is bound + to endure torments. Thought, which might be a diversion, becomes a curse; + it is a painful disease which becomes chronic. It does not take long to + forget the days of the week and the months of the year when time brings no + variance. David drugged himself on dreams. He knew it was weakness, but it + was the wine of forgetfulness, and he indulged in it. He went over and + over, in endless repetition, every scene in which Zoe Le Baron had + figured. + </p> + <p> + He learned by a paper that she had gone to Europe. He was glad of that. + For there were hours in which he imagined that his fate might have caused + her distress—not much, of course, but perhaps an occasional hour of + sympathetic regret. But it was pleasanter not to think of that. He + preferred to remember the hours they had spent together while she was + teaching him the joy of life. + </p> + <p> + How lovely her gray eyes were! Deep, yet bright, and full of silent little + speeches. The rooms in which he imagined her as moving were always + splendid; the gowns she wore were of rustling silk. He never in any dream, + waking or sleeping, associated her with poverty or sorrow or pain. Gay and + beautiful, she moved from city to city, in these visions of David's, + looking always at wonderful things, and finding laughter in every + happening. + </p> + <p> + It was six months after his entrance into his silent abode that a letter + came for him. + </p> + <p> + “By rights, Culross,” said the warden, “I should not give this letter to + you. It isn't the sort we approve of. But you're in for a good spell, and + if there is anything that can make life seem more tolerable, I don't know + but you're entitled to it. At least, I'm not the man to deny it to you.” + </p> + <p> + This was the letter:— + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR FRIEND,—I hope you do not think that all these months, when + you have been suffering so terribly, I have been thinking of other things! + But I am sure you know the truth. You know that I could not send you word + or come to see you, or I would have done it. When I first heard of what + you had done, I saw it all as it happened,—that dreadful scene, I + mean, in the saloon. I am sure I have imagined everything just as it was. + I begged papa to help you, but he was very angry. You see, papa was so + peculiar. He thought more of the appearances of things, perhaps, than of + facts. It infuriated him to think of me as being concerned about you or + with you. I did not know he could be so angry, and his anger did not die, + but for days it cast such a shadow over me that I used to wish I was dead. + Only I would not disobey him, and now I am glad of that. We were in France + three months, and then, coming home, papa died. It was on the voyage. I + wish he had asked me to forgive him, for then I think I could have + remembered him with more tenderness. But he did nothing of the kind. He + did not seem to think he had done wrong in any way, though I feel that + some way we might have saved you. I am back here in Chicago in the old + home. But I shall not stay in this house. It is so large and lonesome, and + I always see you and father facing each other angrily there in the parlor + when I enter it. So I am going to get me some cosey rooms in another part + of the city, and take my aunt, who is a sweet old lady, to live with me; + and I am going to devote my time—all of it—and all of my + brains to getting you out of that terrible place. What is the use of + telling me that you are a murderer? Do I not know you could not be brought + to hurt anything? I suppose you must have killed that poor man, but then + it was not you, it was that dreadful drink—it was Me! That is what + continually haunts me. If I had been a braver girl, and spoken the words + that were in my heart, you would not have gone into that place. You would + be innocent to-day. It was I who was responsible for it all. I let father + kill your heart right there before me, and never said a word. Yet I knew + how it was with you, and—this is what I ought to have said then, and + what I must say now—and all the time I felt just as you did. I + thought I should die when I saw you go away, and knew you would never come + back again. Only I was so selfish, I was so wicked, I would say nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to be comfortable and hopeful, and to have friends, with + you shut up from liberty and happiness. I will not have those comfortable + rooms, after all. I will live as you do. I will live alone in a bare room. + For it is I who am guilty! And then I will feel that I also am being + punished. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hate me? Perhaps my telling you now all these things, and that I + felt toward you just as you did toward me, will not make you happy. For it + may be that you despise me. + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, I have told you the truth now. I will go as soon as I hear from + you to a lawyer, and try to find out how you may be liberated. I am sure + it can be done when the facts are known. + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy! How I do hope you have known in your heart that I was not + forgetting you. Indeed, day or night, I have thought of nothing else. Now + I am free to help you. And be sure, whatever happens, that I am working + for you. + </p> + <p> + “ZOE LE BARON.” + </p> + <p> + That was all. Just a girlish, constrained letter, hardly hinting at the + hot tears that had been shed for many weary nights, coyly telling of the + impatient young love and all the maidenly shame. + </p> + <p> + David permitted himself to read it only once. Then a sudden resolution was + born-a heroic one. Before he got the letter he was a crushed and + unsophisticated boy; when he had read it, and absorbed its full + significance, he became suddenly a man, capable of a great sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + “I return your letter,” he wrote, without superscription, “and thank you + for your anxiety about me. But the truth is, I had forgotten all about you + in my trouble. You were not in the least to blame for what happened. I + might have known I would come to such an end. You thought I was good, of + course; but it is not easy to find out the life of a young man. It is + rather mortifying to have a private letter sent here, because the warden + reads them all. I hope you will enjoy yourself this winter, and hasten to + forget one who had certainly forgotten you till reminded by your letter, + which I return. + </p> + <p> + “Respectfully, + </p> + <p> + “DAVID CULROSS.” + </p> + <p> + That night some deep lines came into his face which never left it, and + which made him look like a man of middle age. + </p> + <p> + He never doubted that his plan would succeed; that, piqued and indignant + at his ingratitude, she would hate him, and in a little time forget he + ever lived, or remember him only to blush with shame at her past + association with him. He saw her happy, loved, living the usual life of + women, with all those things that make life rich. + </p> + <p> + For there in the solitude an understanding of deep things came to him. He + who thought never to have a wife grew to know what the joy of it must be. + He perceived all the subtle rapture of wedded souls. He learned what the + love of children was, the pride of home, the unselfish ambition for + success that spurs men on. All the emotions passed in procession at night + before him, tricked out in palpable forms. + </p> + <p> + A burst of girlish tears would dissipate whatever lingering pity Zoe felt + for him. How often he said that! With her sensitiveness she would be sure + to hate a man who had mortified her. + </p> + <p> + So he fell to dreaming of her again as moving among happy and luxurious + scenes, exquisitely clothed, with flowers on her bosom and jewels on her + neck; and he saw men loving her, and was glad, and saw her at last loving + the best of them, and told himself in the silence of the night that it was + as he wished. + </p> + <p> + Yet always, always, from weary week to weary week, he rehearsed the + scenes. They were his theatre, his opera, his library, his lecture hall. + </p> + <p> + He rehearsed them again there on the cars. He never wearied of them. To be + sure, other thoughts had come to him at night. Much that to most men seems + complex and puzzling had grown to appear simple to him. In a way his brain + had quickened and deepened through the years of solitude. He had thought + out a great many things. He had read a few good books and digested them, + and the visions in his heart had kept him from being bitter. + </p> + <p> + Yet, suddenly confronted with liberty, turned loose like a pastured colt, + without master or rein, he felt only confusion and dismay. He might be + expected to feel exultation. He experienced only fright. It is precisely + the same with the liberated colt. + </p> + <p> + The train pulled into a bustling station, in which the multitudinous + noises were thrown back again from the arched iron roof. The relentless + haste of all the people was inexpressibly cruel to the man who looked from + the window wondering whither he would go, and if, among all the thousands + that made up that vast and throbbing city, he would ever find a friend. + </p> + <p> + For a moment David longed even for that unmaternal mother who had + forgotten him in the hour of his distress; but she had been dead for many + years. + </p> + <p> + The train stopped. Every one got out. David forced himself to his feet and + followed. He had been driven back into the world. It would have seemed + less terrible to have been driven into a desert. He walked toward the + great iron gates, seeing the people and hearing the noises confusedly. + </p> + <p> + As he entered the space beyond the grating some one caught him by the arm. + It was a little middle-aged woman in plain clothes, and with sad gray + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Is this David?” said she. + </p> + <p> + He did not speak, but his face answered her. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you were coming to-day. I've waited all these years, David. You + didn't think I believed what you said in that letter did you? This way, + David,—this is the way home.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Two Pioneers + </h2> + <p> + IT was the year of the small-pox. The Pawnees had died in their cold + tepees by the fifties, the soldiers lay dead in the trenches without the + fort, and many a gay French voyageur, who had thought to go singing down + the Missouri on his fur-laden raft in the springtime, would never again + see the lights of St. Louis, or the coin of the mighty Choteau company. + </p> + <p> + It had been a winter of tragedies. The rigors of the weather and the + scourge of the disease had been fought with Indian charm and with Catholic + prayer. Both were equally unavailing. If a man was taken sick at the fort + they put him in a warm room, brought him a jug of water once a day, and + left him to find out what his constitution was worth. Generally he + recovered; for the surgeon's supplies had been exhausted early in the + year. But the Indians, in their torment, rushed into the river through the + ice, and returned to roll themselves in their blankets and die in + ungroaning stoicism. + </p> + <p> + Every one had grown bitter and hard. The knives of the trappers were + sharp, and not one whit sharper than their tempers. Some one said that the + friendly Pawnees were conspiring with the Sioux, who were always + treacherous, to sack the settlement. The trappers doubted this. They and + the Pawnees had been friends many years, and they had together killed the + Sioux in four famous battles on the Platte. Yet—who knows? There was + pestilence in the air, and it had somehow got into men's souls as well as + their bodies. + </p> + <p> + So, at least, Father de Smet said. He alone did not despair. He alone + tried neither charm nor curse. He dressed him an altar in the wilderness, + and he prayed at it—but not for impossible things. When in a day's + journey you come across two lodges of Indians, sixty souls in each, lying + dead and distorted from the plague in their desolate tepees, you do not + pray, if you are a man like Father de Smet. You go on to the next lodge + where the living yet are, and teach them how to avoid death. + </p> + <p> + Besides, when you are young, it is much easier to act than to pray. When + the children cried for food, Father de Smet took down the rifle from the + wall and went out with it, coming back only when he could feed the hungry. + There were places where the prairie was black with buffalo, and the shy + deer showed their delicate heads among the leafless willows of the + Papillion. When they—the children—were cold, this young man + brought in baskets of buffalo chips from the prairie and built them a + fire, or he hung more skins up at the entrance to the tepees. If he wanted + to cross a river and had no boat at hand, he leaped the uncertain ice, or, + in clear current, swam, with his clothes on his head in a bundle. + </p> + <p> + A wonderful traveller for the time was Father de Smet. Twice he had gone + as far as the land of the Flathead nation, and he could climb mountain + passes as well as any guide of the Rockies. He had built a dozen missions, + lying all the way from the Columbia to the Kaw. He had always a jest at + his tongue's end, and served it out with as much readiness as a prayer; + and he had, withal, an arm trained to do execution. Every man on the + plains understood the art of self-preservation. Even in Cainsville, over + by the council ground of the western tribes, which was quite the most + civilized place for hundreds of miles, life was uncertain when the boats + came from St. Louis with bad whiskey in their holds. But no one dared take + liberties with the holy father. The thrust from his shoulder was straight + and sure, and his fist was hard. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was not the sinner that Father de Smet meant to crush. He always + supplemented his acts of physical prowess with that explanation. It was + the sin that he struck at from the shoulder—and may not even an + anointed one strike at sin? + </p> + <p> + Father de Smet could draw a fine line, too, between the things which were + bad in themselves, and the things which were only extrinsically bad. For + example, there were the soups of Mademoiselle Ninon. Mam'selle herself was + not above reproach, but her soups were. Mademoiselle Ninon was the only + Parisian thing in the settlement. And she was certainly to be avoided—which + was perhaps the reason that no one avoided her. It was four years since + she had seen Paris. She was sixteen then, and she followed the fortunes of + a certain adventurer who found it advisable to sail for Montreal. Ninon + had been bored back in Paris, it being dull in the mantua-making shop of + Madame Guittar. If she had been a man she would have taken to navigation, + and might have made herself famous by sailing to some unknown part of the + New World. Being a woman, she took a lover who was going to New France, + and forgot to weep when he found an early and violent death. And there + were others at hand, and Ninon sailed around the cold blue lakes, past + Sault St. Marie, and made her way across the portages to the Mississippi, + and so down to the sacred rock of St. Louis. That was a merry place. Ninon + had fault to find neither with the wine nor the dances. They were all that + one could have desired, and there was no limit to either of them. But + still, after a time, even this grew tiresome to one of Ninon's spirit, and + she took the first opportunity to sail up the Missouri with a certain + young trapper connected with the great fur company, and so found herself + at Cainsville, with the blue bluffs rising to the east of her, and the low + white stretches of the river flats undulating down to where the sluggish + stream wound its way southward capriciously. + </p> + <p> + Ninon soon tired of her trapper. For one thing she found out that he was a + coward. She saw him run once in a buffalo fight. That was when the Pawnee + stood still with a blanket stretched wide in a gaudy square, and caught + the head of the mad animal fairly in the tough fabric; his mustang's legs + trembled under him, but he did not move,—for a mustang is the soul + of an Indian, and obeys each thought; the Indian himself felt his heart + pounding at his ribs; but once with that garment fast over the baffled + eyes of the struggling brute, the rest was only a matter of judicious + knife-thrusts. Ninon saw this. She rode past her lover, and snatched the + twisted bullion cord from his hat that she had braided and put there, and + that night she tied it on the hat of the Pawnee who had killed the + buffalo. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnees were rather proud of the episode, and as for the Frenchmen, + they did not mind. The French have always been very adaptable in America. + Ninon was universally popular. + </p> + <p> + And so were her soups. + </p> + <p> + Every man has his price. Father de Smet's was the soups of Mademoiselle + Ninon. Fancy! If you have an educated palate and are obliged to eat the + strong distillation of buffalo meat, cooked in a pot which has been wiped + out with the greasy petticoat of a squaw! When Ninon came down from St. + Louis she brought with her a great box containing neither clothes, + furniture, nor trinkets, but something much more wonderful! It was a + marvellous compounding of spices and seasonings. The aromatic liquids she + set before the enchanted men of the settlement bore no more relation to + ordinary buffalo soup than Chateaubriand's Indian maidens did to one of the + Pawnee girls, who slouched about the settlement with noxious tresses and + sullen slavish coquetries. + </p> + <p> + Father de Smet would not at any time have called Ninon a scarlet woman. + But when he ate the dish of soup or tasted the hot corn-cakes that she + invariably invited him to partake of as he passed her little house, he + refrained with all the charity of a true Christian and an accomplished + epicure from even thinking her such. And he remembered the words of the + Saviour, “Let him who is without sin among you cast the first stone.” + </p> + <p> + To Father de Smet's healthy nature nothing seemed more superfluous than + sin. And he was averse to thinking that any committed deeds of which he + need be ashamed. So it was his habit, especially if the day was pleasant + and his own thoughts happy, to say to himself when he saw one of the wild + young trappers leaving the cabin of Mademoiselle Ninon: “He has been for + some of the good woman's hot cakes,” till he grew quite to believe that + the only attractions that the adroit Frenchwoman possessed were of a + gastronomic nature. + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth, the attractions of Mademoiselle Ninon were varied. To + begin with, she was the only thing in that wilderness to suggest home. + Ninon had a genius for home-making. Her cabin, in which she cooked, slept, + ate, lived, had become a boudoir. + </p> + <p> + The walls were hung with rare and beautiful skins; the very floor made + rich with huge bear robes, their permeating odors subdued by heavy + perfumes brought, like the spices, from St. Louis. The bed, in daytime, + was a couch of beaver-skins; the fireplace had branching antlers above it, + on which were hung some of the evidences of the fair Ninon's coquetry, + such as silken scarves, of the sort the voyageurs from the far north wore; + and necklaces made by the Indians of the Pacific coast and brought to + Ninon by—but it is not polite to inquire into these matters. There + were little moccasins also, much decorated with porcupine-quills, one pair + of which Father de Smet had brought from the Flathead nation, and + presented to Ninon that time when she nursed him through a frightful run + of fever. She would take no money for her patient services. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, gravely, when he offered it to her, “I am not myself + virtuous. But I have the distinction of having preserved the only virtuous + creature in the settlement for further usefulness. Sometimes, perhaps, you + will pray for Ninon.” + </p> + <p> + Father de Smet never forgot those prayers. + </p> + <p> + These were wild times, mind you. No use to keep your skirts coldly clean + if you wished to be of help. These men were subduing a continent. Their + primitive qualities came out. Courage, endurance, sacrifice, suffering + without complaint, friendship to the death, indomitable hatred, + unfaltering hope, deep-seated greed, splendid gayety—it takes these + things to subdue a continent. Vice is also an incidental,—that is to + say, what one calls vice. This is because it is the custom to measure + these men as if they were governed by the laws of civilization, where + there is neither law nor civilization. + </p> + <p> + This much is certain: gentlemen cannot conquer a country. They tried + gentlemen back in Virginia, and they died, partly from lack of intellect, + but mostly from lack of energy. After the yeomen have fought the + conquering fight, it is well enough to bring in gentlemen, who are + sometimes clever lawmakers, and who look well on thrones or in + presidential chairs. + </p> + <p> + But to return to the winter of the smallpox. It was then that the priest + and Ninon grew to know each other well. They became acquainted first in + the cabin where four of the trappers lay tossing in delirium. The horrible + smell of disease weighted the air. Outside wet snow fell continuously and + the clouds seemed to rest only a few feet above the sullen bluffs. The + room was bare of comforts, and very dirty. Ninon looked about with + disgust. + </p> + <p> + “You pray,” said she to the priest, “and I will clean the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so,” returned the broad-shouldered father, smilingly, “we will both + clean the room.” Thus it came that they scrubbed the floor together, and + made the chimney so that it would not smoke, and washed the blankets on + the beds, and kept the woodpile high. They also devised ventilators, and + let in fresh air without exposing the patients. They had no medicine, but + they continually rubbed the suffering men with bear's grease. + </p> + <p> + “It's better than medicine,” said Ninon, after the tenth day, as, wan with + watching, she held the cool hand of one of the recovering men in her own. + “If we had had medicines we should have killed these men.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a woman of remarkable sense,” said the holy father, who was + eating a dish of corn-meal and milk that Ninon had just prepared, “and a + woman also of Christian courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Christian courage?” echoed Ninon; “do you think that is what you call it? + I am not afraid, no, not I; but it is not Christian courage. You mistake + in calling it that.” There were tears in her eyes. The priest saw them. + </p> + <p> + “God lead you at last into peaceful ways,” said he, softly, lifting one + hand in blessing. “Your vigil is ended. Go to your home and sleep. You + know the value of the temporal life that God has given to man. In the + hours of the night, Ninon, think of the value of eternal life, which it is + also His to give.” + </p> + <p> + Ninon stared at him a moment with a dawning horror in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then she pointed to the table. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you do,” said she, “don't forget the bear's grease.” And she + went out laughing. The priest did not pause to recommend her soul to + further blessing. He obeyed her directions. + </p> + <p> + March was wearing away tediously. The river was not yet open, and the + belated boats with needed supplies were moored far down the river. Many of + the reduced settlers were dependent on the meat the Indians brought them + for sustenance. The mud made the roads almost impassable; for the frost + lay in a solid bed six inches below the surface, and all above that was + semiliquid muck. Snow and rain alternated, and the frightful disease did + not cease its ravages. + </p> + <p> + The priest got little sleep. Now he was at the bed of a little half-breed + child, smoothing the straight black locks from the narrow brow; now at the + cot of some hulking trapper, who wept at the pain, but died finally with a + grin of bravado on his lips; now in a foul tepee, where some grave Pawnee + wrapped his mantle about him, and gazed with prophetic and unflinching + eyes into the land of the hereafter. + </p> + <p> + The little school that the priest started had been long since abandoned. + It was only the preservation of life that one thought of in these days. + And recklessness had made the men desperate. To the ravages of disease + were added horrible murders. Moral health is always low when physical + health is so. + </p> + <p> + Give a nation two winters of grippe, and it will have an epidemic of + suicide. Give it starvation and small-pox, and it will have a contagion of + murders. There are subtle laws underlying these things,—laws which + the physicians think they can explain; but they are mistaken. The reason + is not so material as it seems. + </p> + <p> + But spring was near in spite of falling snow and the dirty ice in the + river. There was not even a flushing of the willow twigs to tell it by, + nor a clearing of the leaden sky,—only the almanac. Yet all men were + looking forward to it. The trappers put in the feeble days of + convalescence, making long rafts on which to pile the skins dried over + winter,—a fine variety, worth all but their weight in gold. Money + was easily got in those days; but there are circumstances under which + money is valueless. + </p> + <p> + Father de Smet thought of this the day before Easter, as he plunged + through the mud of the winding street in his bearskin gaiters. Stout were + his legs, firm his lungs, as he turned to breathe in the west wind; clear + his sharp and humorous eyes. He was going to the little chapel where the + mission school had previously been held. Here was a rude pulpit, and back + of it a much-disfigured virgin, dressed in turkey-red calico. Two cheap + candles in their tin sticks guarded this figure, and beneath, on the + floor, was spread an otter-skin of perfect beauty. The seats were of pine, + without backs, and the wind whistled through the chinks between the logs. + Moreover, the place was dirty. Lenten service had been out of the + question. The living had neither time nor strength to come to worship; and + the dead were not given the honor of a burial from church in these times + of terror. The priest looked about him in dismay, the place was so utterly + forsaken; yet to let Easter go by without recognition was not to his + liking. He had been the night before to every house in the settlement, + bidding the people to come to devotions on Sunday morning. He knew that + not one of them would refuse his invitation. There was no hero larger in + the eyes of these unfortunates than the simple priest who walked among + them with his unpretentious piety. The promises were given with whispered + blessings, and there were voices that broke in making them, and hands that + shook with honest gratitude. The priest, remembering these things, and all + the awful suffering of the winter, determined to make the service + symbolic, indeed, of the resurrection and the life,—the annual + resurrection and life that comes each year, a palpable miracle, to teach + the dullest that God reigns. + </p> + <p> + “How are you going to trim the altar?” cried a voice behind him. + </p> + <p> + He turned, startled, and in the doorway stood Mademoiselle Ninon, her + short skirt belted with a red silk scarf,—the token of some trapper,—her + ankles protected with fringed leggins, her head covered with a beribboned + hat of felt, such as the voyageurs wore. + </p> + <p> + “Our devotions will be the only decorations we can hang on it. But + gratitude is better than blossoms, and humanity more beautiful than green + wreaths,” said the father, gently. + </p> + <p> + It was a curious thing, and one that he had often noticed himself; he gave + this woman—unworthy as she was—the best of his simple + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Ninon tiptoed toward the priest with one finger coquettishly raised to + insure secrecy. + </p> + <p> + “You will never believe it,” she whispered, “no one would believe it! But + the fact is, father, I have two lilies.” + </p> + <p> + “Lilies,” cried the priest, incredulously, “two lilies?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I say, father—two marvellously fair lilies with little + sceptres of gold in them, and leaves as white as snow. The bulbs were + brought me last autumn by—; that is to say, they were brought from + St. Louis. Only now have they blossomed. Heavens, how I have watched the + buds! I have said to myself every morning for a fortnight: 'Will they open + in time for the good father's Easter morning service?' Then I said: 'They + will open too soon. Buds,' I have cried to them, 'do not dare to open yet, + or you will be horribly passee by Easter. Have the kindness, will you, to + save yourselves for a great event.' And they did it; yes, father, you may + not believe, but no later than this morning these sensible flowers opened + up their leaves boldly, quite conscious that they were doing the right + thing, and to-morrow, if you please, they will be here. And they will + perfume the whole place; yes.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped suddenly, and relaxed her vivacious expression for one of + pain. + </p> + <p> + “You are certainly ill,” cried the priest. “Rest yourself.” He tried to + push her on to one of the seats; but a sort of convulsive rigidity came + over her, very alarming to look at. + </p> + <p> + “You are worn out,” her companion said gravely. “And you are chilled.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm cold,” confessed Ninon. “But I had to come to tell you about the + lilies. But, do you see, I never could bring myself to put them in this + room as it is now. It would be too absurd to place them among this dirt. + We must clean the place.” + </p> + <p> + “The place will be cleaned. I will see to it. But as for you, go home and + care for yourself.” Ninon started toward the door with an uncertain step. + Suddenly she came back. + </p> + <p> + “It is too funny,” she said, “that red calico there on the Virgin. Father, + I have some laces which were my mother's, who was a good woman, and which + have never been worn by me. They are all I have to remember France by and + the days when I was—different. If I might be permitted—” she + hesitated and looked timidly at the priest. + </p> + <p> + “'She hath done what she could,'” murmured Father de Smet, softly. “Bring + your laces, Ninon.” He would have added: “Thy sins be forgiven thee.” But + unfortunately, at this moment, Pierre came lounging down the street, + through the mud, fresh from Fort Laramie. His rifle was slung across his + back, and a full game-bag revealed the fact that he had amused himself on + his way. His curly and wind-bleached hair blew out in time-torn banners + from the edge of his wide hat. His piercing, black eyes were those of a + man who drinks deep, fights hard, and lives always in the open air. Wild + animals have such eyes, only there is this difference: the viciousness of + an animal is natural; at least one-half of the viciousness of man is + artificial and devised. + </p> + <p> + When Ninon saw the frost-reddened face of this gallant of the plains, she + gave a little cry of delight, and the color rushed back into her face. The + trapper saw her, and gave a rude shout of welcome. The next moment, he had + swung her clear of the chapel steps; and then the two went down the street + together, Pierre pausing only long enough to doff his hat to the priest. + </p> + <p> + “The Virgin will wear no fresh laces,” said the priest, with some + bitterness; but he was mistaken. An hour later, Ninon was back, not only + with a box of laces, but also with a collection of cosmetics, with which + she proceeded to make startling the scratched and faded face of the wooden + Virgin, who wore, after the completion of Ninon's labors, a decidedly + piquant and saucy expression. The very manner in which the laces were + draped had a suggestion of Ninon's still unforgotten art as a maker of + millinery, and was really a very good presentment of Paris fashions four + years past. Pierre, meantime, amused himself by filling up the chinks in + the logs with fresh mud,—a commodity of which there was no lack,—and + others of the neighbors, incited by these extraordinary efforts, washed + the dirt from seats, floor, and windows, and brought furs with which to + make presentable the floor about the pulpit. + </p> + <p> + Father de Smet worked harder than any of them. In his happy enthusiasm he + chose to think this energy on the part of the others was prompted by + piety, though well he knew it was only a refuge from the insufferable + ennui that pervaded the place. Ninon suddenly came up to him with a white + face. + </p> + <p> + “I am not well,” she said. Her teeth were chattering, and her eyes had a + little blue glaze over them. “I am going home. In the morning I will send + the lilies.” + </p> + <p> + The priest caught her by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ninon,” he whispered, “it is on my soul not to let you go to-night. + Something tells me that the hour of your salvation is come. Women worse + than you, Ninon, have come to lead holy lives. Pray, Ninon, pray to the + Mother of Sorrows, who knows the sufferings and sins of the heart.” He + pointed to the befrilled and highly fashionable Virgin with her + rouge-stained cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Ninon shrank from him, and the same convulsive rigidity he had noticed + before, held her immovable. A moment later, she was on the street again, + and the priest, watching her down the street, saw her enter her cabin with + Pierre. + </p> + <p> + ....... + </p> + <p> + It was past midnight when the priest was awakened from his sleep by a + knock on the door. He wrapped his great buffalo-coat about him, and + answered the summons. Without in the damp darkness stood Pierre. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he cried, “Ninon has sent for you. Since she left you, she has + been very ill. I have done what I could; but now she hardly speaks, but I + make out that she wants you.” Ten minutes later, they were in Ninon's + cabin. When Father de Smet looked at her he knew she was dying. He had + seen the Indians like that many times during the winter. It was the + plague, but driven in to prey upon the system by the exposure. The + Parisienne's teeth were set, but she managed to smile upon her visitor as + he threw off his coat and bent over her. He poured some whiskey for her; + but she could not get the liquid over her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Do not,” she said fiercely between those set white teeth, “do not forget + the lilies.” She sank back and fixed her glazing eyes on the antlers, and + kept them there watching those dangling silken scarves, while the priest, + in haste, spoke the words for the departing soul. + </p> + <p> + The next morning she lay dead among those half barbaric relics of her + coquetry, and two white lilies with hearts of gold shed perfume from an + altar in a wilderness. + </p> + <p> + Up the Gulch + </p> + <p> + “GO West?” sighed Kate. “Why, yes! I'd like to go West.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at the babies, who were playing on the floor with their father, + and sighed again. + </p> + <p> + “You've got to go somewhere, you know, Kate. It might as well be west as + in any other direction. And this is such a chance! We can't have mamma + lying around on sofas without any roses in her cheeks, can we?” He put + this last to the children, who, being yet at the age when they talked in + “Early English,” as their father called it, made a clamorous but + inarticulate reply. + </p> + <p> + Major Shelly, the grandfather of these very young persons, stroked his + mustache and looked indulgent. + </p> + <p> + “Show almost human intelligence, don't they?” said their father, as he lay + flat on his back and permitted the babies to climb over him. + </p> + <p> + “Ya-as,” drawled the major. “They do. Don't see how you account for it, + Jack.” + </p> + <p> + Jack roared, and the lips of the babies trembled with fear. + </p> + <p> + Their mother said nothing. She was on the sofa, her hands lying inert, her + eyes fixed on her rosy babies with an expression which her father-in-law + and her husband tried hard not to notice. + </p> + <p> + It was not easy to tell why Kate was ailing. Of course, the babies were + young, but there were other reasons. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you're too happy,” Jack sometimes said to her. “Try not to be + quite so happy, Kate. At least, try not to take your happiness so + seriously. Please don't adore me so; I'm only a commonplace fellow. And + the babies—they're not going to blow away.” + </p> + <p> + But Kate continued to look with intense eyes at her little world, and to + draw into it with loving and generous hands all who were willing to come. + </p> + <p> + “Kate is just like a kite,” Jack explained to his father, the major; “she + can't keep afloat without just so many bobs.” + </p> + <p> + Kate's “bobs” were the unfortunates she collected around her. These + absorbed her strength. She felt their misery with sympathies that were + abnormal. The very laborer in the streets felt his toil less keenly than + she, as she watched the drops gather on his brow. + </p> + <p> + “Is life worth keeping at the cost of a lot like that?” she would ask. She + felt ashamed of her own ease. She apologized for her own serene and + perfect happiness. She even felt sorry for those mothers who had not + children as radiantly beautiful as her own. + </p> + <p> + “Kate must have a change,” the major had given out. He was going West on + business and insisted on taking her with him. Jack looked doubtful. He + wasn't sure how he would get along without Kate to look after everything. + Secretly, he had an idea that servants were a kind of wild animal that had + to be fed by an experienced keeper. But when the time came, he kissed her + good-by in as jocular a manner as he could summon, and refused to see the + tears that gathered in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Until Chicago was reached, there was nothing very different from that + which Kate had been in the habit of seeing. After that, she set herself to + watch for Western characteristics. She felt that she would know them as + soon as she saw them. + </p> + <p> + “I expected to be stirred up and shocked,” she explained to the major. But + somehow, the Western type did not appear. Commonplace women with worn + faces—browned and seamed, though not aged—were at the + stations, waiting for something or some one. Men with a hurried, nervous + air were everywhere. Kate looked in vain for the gayety and heartiness + which she had always associated with the West. + </p> + <p> + After they got beyond the timber country and rode hour after hour on a + tract smooth as a becalmed ocean, she gave herself up to the feeling of + immeasurable vastness which took possession of her. The sun rolled out of + the sky into oblivion with a frantic, headlong haste. Nothing softened the + aspect of its wrath. Near, red, familiar, it seemed to visibly bowl along + the heavens. In the morning it rose as baldly as it had set. And back and + forth over the awful plain blew the winds,—blew from east to west + and back again, strong as if fresh from the chambers of their birth, full + of elemental scents and of mighty murmurings. + </p> + <p> + “This is the West!” Kate cried, again and again. + </p> + <p> + The major listened to her unsmilingly. It always seemed to him a waste of + muscular energy to smile. He did not talk much. Conversation had never + appealed to him in the light of an art. He spoke when there was a + direction or a command to be given, or an inquiry to be made. The major, + if the truth must be known, was material. Things that he could taste, + touch, see, appealed to him. He had been a volunteer in the civil war,—a + volunteer with a good record,—which he never mentioned; and, having + acquitted himself decently, let the matter go without asking reprisal or + payment for what he had freely given. He went into business and sold + cereal foods. + </p> + <p> + “I believe in useful things,” the major expressed himself. “Oatmeal, + wheat,-men have to have them. God intended they should. There's Jack—my + son-Jack Shelly—lawyer. What's the use of litigation? God didn't + design litigation. It doesn't do anybody any good. It isn't justice you + get. It's something entirely different,—a verdict according to law. + They say Jack's clever. But I'm mighty glad I sell wheat.” + </p> + <p> + He didn't sell it as a speculator, however. That wasn't his way. + </p> + <p> + “I earn what I make,” he often said; and he had grown rich in the selling + of his wholesome foods. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Helena lies among round, brown hills. Above it is a sky of deep and + illimitable blue. In the streets are crumbs of gold, but it no longer pays + to mine for these; because, as real estate, the property is more valuable. + It is a place of fictitious values. There is excitement in the air. Men + have the faces of speculators. Every laborer is patient at his task + because he cherishes a hope that some day he will be a millionnaire. There + is hospitality, and cordiality and good fellowship, and an undeniable + democracy. There is wealth and luxurious living. There is even culture,—but + it is obtruded as a sort of novelty; it is not accepted as a matter of + course. + </p> + <p> + Kate and the major were driven over two or three miles of dusty, hard road + to a distant hotel, which stands in the midst of greenness,—in an + oasis. Immediately above the green sward that surrounds it the brown hills + rise, the grass scorched by the sun. + </p> + <p> + Kate yielded herself to the almost absurd luxury of the place with ease + and complacency. She took kindly to the great verandas. She adapted + herself to the elaborate and ill-assorted meals. She bathed in the + marvellous pool, warm with the heat of eternal fires in mid-earth. This + pool was covered with a picturesque Moorish structure, and at one end a + cascade tumbled, over which the sun, coming through colored windows, made + a mimic prism in the white spray. The life was not unendurable. The major + was seldom with her, being obliged to go about his business; and Kate + amused herself by driving over the hills, by watching the inhabitants, by + wondering about the lives in the great, pretentious, unhomelike houses + with their treeless yards and their closed shutters. The sunlight, white + as the glare on Arabian sands, penetrated everywhere. It seemed to fairly + scorch the eye-balls. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we're West, now,” Kate said, exultantly. “I've seen a thousand types. + But yet—not quite THE type—not the impersonation of simplicity + and daring that I was looking for.” + </p> + <p> + The major didn't know quite what she was talking about. But he acquiesced. + All he cared about was to see her grow stronger; and that she was doing + every day. She was growing amazingly lovely, too,-at least the major + thought so. Every one looked at her; but that was, perhaps, because she + was such a sylph of a woman. Beside the stalwart major, she looked like a + fairy princess. + </p> + <p> + One day she suddenly realized the fact that she had had a companion on the + veranda for several mornings. Of course, there were a great many persons—invalids, + largely—sitting about, but one of them had been obtruding himself + persistently into her consciousness. It was not that he was rude; it was + only that he was thinking about her. A person with a temperament like + Kate's could not long be oblivious to a thing like that; and she furtively + observed the offender with that genius for psychological perception which + was at once her greatest danger and her charm. + </p> + <p> + The man was dressed with a childish attempt at display. His shirt-front + was decorated with a diamond, and his cuff-buttons were of onyx with + diamond settings. His clothes were expensive and perceptibly new, and he + often changed his costumes, but with a noticeable disregard for propriety. + He was very conscious of his silk hat, and frequently wiped it with a + handkerchief on which his monogram was worked in blue. + </p> + <p> + When the 'busses brought up their loads, he was always on hand to watch + the newcomers. He took a long time at his dinners, and appeared to order a + great deal and eat very little. There were card-rooms and a billiard-hall, + not to mention a bowling-alley and a tennis-court, where the other guests + of the hotel spent much time. But this man never visited them. He sat + often with one of the late reviews in his hand, looking as if he intended + giving his attention to it at any moment. But after he had scrupulously + cut the leaves with a little carved ivory paper-cutter, he sat staring + straight before him with the book open, but unread, in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Kate took more interest in this melancholy, middle-aged man than she would + have done if she had not been on the outlook for her Western type,—the + man who was to combine all the qualities of chivalry, daring, bombast, and + generosity, seasoned with piquant grammar, which she firmly believed to be + the real thing. But notwithstanding this kindly and somewhat curious + interest, she might never have made his acquaintance if it had not been + for a rather unpleasant adventure. + </p> + <p> + The major was “closing up a deal” and had hurried away after breakfast, + and Kate, in the luxury of convalescence, half-reclined in a great chair + on the veranda and watched the dusky blue mist twining itself around the + brown hills. She was not thinking of the babies; she was not worrying + about home; she was not longing for anything, or even indulging in a + dream. That vacuous content which engrosses the body after long + indisposition, held her imperatively. Suddenly she was aroused from this + happy condition of nothingness by the spectacle of an enormous bull-dog + approaching her with threatening teeth. She had noticed the monster often + in his kennel near the stables, and it was well understood that he was + never to be permitted his freedom. Now he walked toward her with a solid + step and an alarming deliberateness. Kate sat still and tried to assure + herself that he meant no mischief, but by the time the great body had made + itself felt on the skirt of her gown she could restrain her fear no + longer, and gave a nervous cry of alarm. The brute answered with a growl. + If he had lacked provocation before, he considered that he had it now. He + showed his teeth and flung his detestable body upon her; and Kate felt + herself growing dizzy with fear. But just then an arm was interposed and + the dog was flung back. There was a momentary struggle. Some gentlemen + came hurrying out of the office; and as they beat the dog back to its + retreat, Kate summoned words from her parched throat to thank her + benefactor. + </p> + <p> + It was the melancholy man with the new clothes. This morning he was + dressed in a suit of the lightest gray, with a white marseilles waistcoat, + over which his glittering chain shone ostentatiously. White tennis-shoes, + a white rose in his buttonhole, and a white straw hat in his hand + completed a toilet over which much time had evidently been spent. Kate + noted these details as she held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I may have been alarmed without cause,” she said; “but I was horribly + frightened. Thank you so much for coming to my rescue. And I think, if you + would add to your kindness by getting me a glass of water—” + </p> + <p> + When he came back, his hand was trembling a little; and as Kate looked up + to learn the cause, she saw that his face was flushed. He was embarrassed. + She decided that he was not accustomed to the society of ladies. “Brutes + like that dog ain't no place in th' world—that's my opinion. There + are some bad things we can't help havin' aroun'; but a bull-dog ain't one + of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you,” Kate acquiesced, as she drank the water. “But as + this is the first unpleasant experience of any kind that I have had since + I came here, I don't feel that I have any right to complain.” + </p> + <p> + “You're here fur yur health?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I am getting it. You're not an invalid, I imagine?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no-op. I'm here be—well, I've thought fur a long time I'd + like t' stay at this here hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I've been up th' gulch these fifteen years. Bin livin' on a shelf of + black rock. Th' sun got 'round 'bout ten. Couldn't make a thing grow.” The + man was looking off toward the hills, with an expression of deep sadness + in his eyes. “Didn't never live in a place where nothin' 'd grow, did you? + I took geraniums up thar time an' time agin. Red ones. Made me think of + mother; she's in Germany. Watered 'em mornin' an' night. Th' damned things + died.” + </p> + <p> + The oath slipped out with an artless unconsciousness, and there was a + little moisture in his eyes. Kate felt she ought to bring the conversation + to a close. She wondered what Jack would say if he saw her talking with a + perfect stranger who used oaths! She would have gone into the house but + for something that caught her eye. It was the hand of the man; that hand + was a bludgeon. All grace and flexibility had gone out of it, and it had + become a mere instrument of toil. It was seamed and misshapen; yet it had + been carefully manicured, and the pointed nails looked fantastic and + animal-like. A great seal-ring bore an elaborate monogram, while the + little finger displayed a collection of diamonds and emeralds truly + dazzling to behold. An impulse of humanity and a sort of artistic + curiosity, much stronger than her discretion, urged Kate to continue her + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “What were you doing up the gulch?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The man leaned back in his chair and regarded her a moment before + answering. He realized the significance of her question. He took it as a + sign that she was willing to be friendly. A look of gratitude, almost + tender, sprang into his eyes,—dull gray eyes, they were, with a + kindliness for their only recommendation. + </p> + <p> + “Makin' my pile,” he replied. “I've been in these parts twenty years. When + I come here, I thought I was goin' to make a fortune right off. I had all + th' money that mother could give me, and I lost everything I had in three + months. I went up th' gulch.” He paused, and wiped his forehead with his + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + There was something in his remark and the intonation which made Kate say + softly: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you've had a hard time of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thar you were!” he cried. “Thar was th' rock—risin', risin', black! + At th' bottom wus th' creek, howlin' day an' night! Lonesome! Gee! No one + t' talk to. Of course, th' men. Had some with me always. They didn't talk. + It's too-too quiet t' talk much. They played cards. Curious, but I never + played cards. Don't think I'd find it amusin'. No, I worked. Came down + here once in six months or three months. Had t' come—grub-staked th' + men, you know. Did you ever eat salt pork?” He turned to Kate suddenly + with this question. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; a few times. Did you have it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' else, much. I used t' think of th' things mother cooked. Mother + understood cookin', if ever a woman did. I'll never forget th' dinner she + gave me th' day I came away. A woman ought t' cook. I hear American women + don't go in much for cookin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think that's a mistake,” Kate hastened to interrupt. “All that I + know understand how to serve excellent dinners. Of course, they may not + cook them themselves, but I think they could if it were necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” He picked up a long glove that had fallen from Kate's lap and + fingered it before returning it. + </p> + <p> + “I s'pose you cook?” + </p> + <p> + “I make a specialty of salads and sorbets,” smiled Kate. “I guess I could + roast meat and make bread; but circumstances have not yet compelled me to + do it. But I've a theory that an American woman can do anything she puts + her mind to.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed out loud,—a laugh quite out of proportion to the + mild good humor of the remark; but it was evident that he could no longer + conceal his delight at this companionship. + </p> + <p> + “How about raisin' flowers?” he asked. “Are you strong on that?” + </p> + <p> + “I've only to look at a plant to make it grow,” Kate cried, with + enthusiasm. “When my friends are in despair over a plant, they bring it to + me, and I just pet it a little, and it brightens up. I've the most + wonderful fernery you ever saw. It's green, summer and winter. Hundreds of + people stop and look up at it, it is so green and enticing, there above + the city streets.” + </p> + <p> + “What city?” + </p> + <p> + “Philadelphia.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother's jest that way. She has a garden of roses. And the mignonette—” + </p> + <p> + But he broke off suddenly, and sat once more staring before him. + </p> + <p> + “But not a damned thing,” he added, with poetic pensiveness, “would grow + in that gulch.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you stay there so long?” asked Kate, after a little pause in + which she managed to regain her waning courage. + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck. You never see a place with so many false leads. To-day you'd + get a streak that looked big. To-morrow you'd find it a pocket. One night + I'd go t' bed with my heart goin' like a race-horse. Next night it would + be ploddin' along like a winded burro. Don't know what made me stick t' + it. It was hot there, too! And cold! Always roastin' ur freezin'. It'd + been different if I'd had any one t' help me stand it. But th' men were + always findin' fault. They blamed me fur everythin'. I used t' lie awake + at night an' hear 'em talkin' me over. It made me lonesome, I tell you! + Thar wasn't no one! Mother used t' write. But I never told her th' truth. + She ain't a suspicion of what I've been a-goin' through.” + </p> + <p> + Kate sat and looked at him in silence. His face was seamed, though far + from old. His body was awkward, but impressed her with a sense of + magnificent strength. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't ask no woman t' share my hard times,” he resumed after a time. + “I always said when I got a woman, it was goin' t' be t' make her happy. + It wer'n't t' be t' ask her t' drudge.” + </p> + <p> + There was another silence. This man out of the solitude seemed to be + elated past expression at his new companionship. He looked with + appreciation at the little pointed toes of Kate's slippers, as they + glanced from below the skirt of her dainty organdie. He noted the band of + pearls on her finger. His eyes rested long on the daisies at her waist. + The wind tossed up little curls of her warm brown hair. Her eyes suffused + with interest, her tender mouth seemed ready to lend itself to any + emotion, and withal she was so small, so compact, so exquisite. The man + wiped his forehead again, in mere exuberance. + </p> + <p> + “Here's my card,” he said, very solemnly, as he drew an engraved bit of + pasteboard from its leather case. Kate bowed and took it. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Peter Roeder,” she read. “I've no card,” she said. “My name is + Shelly. I'm here for my health, as I told you.” She rose at this point, + and held out her hand. “I must thank you once more for your kindness,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + His eyes fastened on hers with an appeal for a less formal word. There was + something almost terrible in their silent eloquence. + </p> + <p> + “I hope we may meet again,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Peter Roeder made a very low and awkward bow, and opened the door into + the corridor for her. + </p> + <p> + That evening the major announced that he was obliged to go to Seattle. The + journey was not an inviting one; Kate was well placed where she was, and + he decided to leave her. + </p> + <p> + She was well enough now to take longer drives; and she found strange, + lonely canyons, wild and beautiful, where yellow waters burst through + rocky barriers with roar and fury,—tortuous, terrible places, such + as she had never dreamed of. Coming back from one of these drives, two + days after her conversation on the piazza with Peter Roeder, she met him + riding a massive roan. He sat the animal with that air of perfect + unconsciousness which is the attribute of the Western man, and his attire, + even to his English stock, was faultless,—faultily faultless. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won't object to havin' me ride beside you,” he said, wheeling + his horse. To tell the truth, Kate did not object. She was a little dull, + and had been conscious all the morning of that peculiar physical + depression which marks the beginning of a fit of homesickness. + </p> + <p> + “The wind gits a fine sweep,” said Roeder, after having obtained the + permission he desired. “Now in the gulch we either had a dead stagnation, + or else the wind was tearin' up and down like a wild beast.” + </p> + <p> + Kate did not reply, and they went on together, facing the riotous wind. + </p> + <p> + “You can't guess how queer it seems t' be here,” he said, confidentially. + “It seems t' me as if I had come from some other planet. Thar don't + rightly seem t' be no place fur me. I tell you what it's like. It's as if + I'd come down t' enlist in th' ranks, an' found 'em full,—every man + marchin' along in his place, an' no place left fur me.” + </p> + <p> + Kate could not find a reply. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a friend,—not a friend! I ain't complainin'. It ain't th' + fault of any one—but myself. You don' know what a durned fool I've + bin. Someway, up thar in th' gulch I got t' seemin' so sort of important + t' myself, and my makin' my stake seemed such a big thing, that I thought + I had only t' come down here t' Helena t' have folks want t' know me. I + didn't particular want th' money because it wus money. But out here you + work fur it, jest as you work fur other things in other places,—jest + because every one is workin' fur it, and it's the man who gets th' most + that beats. It ain't that they are any more greedy than men anywhere else. + My pile's a pretty good-sized one. An' it's likely to be bigger; but no + one else seems t' care. Th' paper printed some pieces about it. Some of + th' men came round t' see me; but I saw their game. I said I guessed I'd + look further fur my acquaintances. I ain't spoken to a lady,—not a + real lady, you know,—t' talk with, friendly like, but you, fur—years.” + </p> + <p> + His face flushed in that sudden way again. They were passing some of those + pretentious houses which rise in the midst of Helena's ragged streets with + such an extraneous air, and Kate leaned forward to look at them. The + driver, seeing her interest, drew up the horses for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Fine, fine!” ejaculated Roeder. “But they ain't got no garden. A house + don't seem anythin' t' me without a garden. Do you know what I think would + be th' most beautiful thing in th' world? A baby in a rose-garden! Do you + know, I ain't had a baby in my hands, excep' Ned Ramsey's little kid, + once, for ten year!” + </p> + <p> + Kate's face shone with sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “How dreadful!” she cried. “I couldn't live without a baby about.” + </p> + <p> + “Like babies, do you? Well, well. Boys? Like boys?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit better than girls,” said Kate, stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “I like boys,” responded Roeder, with conviction. “My mother liked boys. + She had three girls, but she liked me a damned sight the best.” + </p> + <p> + Kate laughed outright. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you swear?” she said. “I never heard a man swear before,—at + least, not one with whom I was talking. That's one of your gulch habits. + You must get over it.” + </p> + <p> + Roeder's blond face turned scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me,” he pleaded. “I'll cure myself of it! Jest give me a + chance.” + </p> + <p> + This was a little more personal than Kate approved of, and she raised her + parasol to conceal her annoyance. It was a brilliant little fluff of a + thing which looked as if it were made of butterflies' wings. Roeder + touched it with awe. + </p> + <p> + “You have sech beautiful things,” he said. “I didn't know women wore sech + nice things. Now that dress—it's like—I don't know what it's + like.” It was a simple little taffeta, with warp and woof of azure and of + cream, and gay knots of ribbon about it. + </p> + <p> + “We have the advantage of men,” she said. “I often think one of the + greatest drawbacks to being a man would be the sombre clothes. I like to + wear the prettiest things that can be found.” + </p> + <p> + “Lace?” queried Roeder. “Do you like lace?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so! Did you ever see a woman who didn't?” + </p> + <p> + “Hu—um! These women I've known don't know lace,—these wives of + th' men out here. They're th' only kind I've seen this long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course, but I mean—” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you mean. My mother has a chest full of linen an' lace. She + showed it t' me th' day I left. 'Peter,' she said, 'some day you bring a + wife home with you, an' I'll give you that lace an' that linen.' An' I'm + goin' t' do it, too,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” said Kate, with her eyes moist. “I hope you will, and that + your mother will be very happy.” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + There was a hop at the hotel that night, and it was almost a matter of + courtesy for Kate to go. Ladies were in demand, for there were not very + many of them at the hotel. Every one was expected to do his best to make + it a success; and Kate, not at all averse to a waltz or two, dressed + herself for the occasion with her habitual striving after artistic effect. + She was one of those women who make a picture of themselves as naturally + as a bird sings. She had an opal necklace which Jack had given her + because, he said, she had as many moods as an opal had colors; and she + wore this with a crepe gown, the tint of the green lights in her necklace. + A box of flowers came for her as she was dressing; they were Puritan + roses, and Peter Roeder's card was in the midst of them. She was used to + having flowers given her. It would have seemed remarkable if some one had + not sent her a bouquet when she was going to a ball. + </p> + <p> + “I shall dance but twice,” she said to those who sought her for a partner. + “Neither more nor less.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you goin' t' dance with me at all?” Roeder managed to say to her in + the midst of her laughing altercation with the gentlemen. + </p> + <p> + “Dance with you!” cried Kate. “How do men learn to dance when they are up + a gulch?” + </p> + <p> + “I ken dance,” he said stubbornly. He was mortified at her chaffing. + </p> + <p> + “Then you may have the second waltz,” she said, in quick contrition. “Now + you other gentlemen have been dancing any number of times these last + fifteen years. But Mr. Roeder is just back from a hard campaign,—a + campaign against fate. My second waltz is his. And I shall dance my best.” + </p> + <p> + It happened to be just the right sort of speech. The women tried + good-naturedly to make Roeder's evening a pleasant one. They were filled + with compassion for a man who had not enjoyed the society of their sex for + fifteen years. They found much amusement in leading him through the square + dances, the forms of which were utterly unknown to him. But he waltzed + with a sort of serious alertness that was not so bad as it might have + been. + </p> + <p> + Kate danced well. Her slight body seemed as full of the spirit of the + waltz as a thrush's body is of song. Peter Roeder moved along with her in + a maze, only half-answering her questions, his gray eyes full of mystery. + </p> + <p> + Once they stopped for a moment, and he looked down at her, as with flushed + face she stood smiling and waving her gossamer fan, each motion stirring + the frail leaves of the roses he had sent her. + </p> + <p> + “It's cur'ous,” he said softly, “but I keep thinkin' about that black + gulch.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget it,” she said. “Why do you think of a gulch when—” She + stopped with a sudden recollection that he was not used to persiflage. But + he anticipated what she was about to say. + </p> + <p> + “Why think of the gulch when you are here?” he said. “Why, because it is + only th' gulch that seems real. All this,—these pleasant, polite + people, this beautiful room, th' flowers everywhere, and you, and me as I + am, seem as if I was dreamin'. Thar ain't anything in it all that is like + what I thought it would be.” + </p> + <p> + “Not as you thought it would be?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Different. I thought it would be—well, I thought th' people + would not be quite so high-toned. I hope you don't mind that word.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” she said. “It's a musical term. It applies very well + to people.” + </p> + <p> + They took up the dance again and waltzed breathlessly till the close. Kate + was tired; the exertion had been a little more than she had bargained for. + She sat very still on the veranda under the white glare of an electric + ball, and let Roeder do the talking. Her thoughts, in spite of the + entertainment she was deriving from her present experiences, would go back + to the babies. She saw them tucked well in bed, each in a little iron + crib, with the muslin curtains shielding their rosy faces from the light. + She wondered if Jack were reading alone in the library or was at the club, + or perhaps at the summer concert, with the swell of the violins in his + ears. Jack did so love music. As she thought how delicate his perceptions + were, how he responded to everything most subtle in nature and in art, of + how life itself was a fine art with him, and joy a thing to be cultivated, + she turned with a sense of deep compassion to the simple man by her side. + His rough face looked a little more unattractive than usual. His evening + clothes were almost grotesque. His face wore a look of solitude, of + hunger. + </p> + <p> + “What were you saying?” she said, dreamily. “I beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “I was sayin' how I used t' dream of sittin' on the steps of a hotel like + this, and not havin' a thing t' do. When I used t' come down here out of + the gulch, and see men who had had good dinners, an' good baths, sittin' + around smokin', with money t' go over there t' th' bookstan' an' get + anythin' they'd want, it used t' seem t' me about all a single man could + wish fur.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've got it all now.” + </p> + <p> + “But I didn't any of th' time suppose that would satisfy a man long. Only + I was so darned tired I couldn't help wantin' t' rest. But I'm not so + selfish ur s' narrow as to be satisfied with THAT. No, I'm not goin' t' + spend m' pile that way—quite!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed out loud, and then sat in silence watching Kate as she lay back + wearily in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “I've got t' have that there garden,” he said, laughingly. “Got t' get + them roses. An' I'll have a big bath-house,—plenty of springs in + this country. You ken have a bath here that won't freeze summer NOR + winter. An' a baby! I've got t' have a baby. He'll go with th' roses an' + th' bath.” He laughed again heartily. + </p> + <p> + “It's a queer joke, isn't it?” Roeder asked. “Talkin' about my baby, an' I + haven't even a wife.” His face flushed and he turned his eyes away. + </p> + <p> + “Have I shown you the pictures of my babies?” Kate inquired. “You'd like + my boy, I know. And my girl is just like me,—in miniature.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. She looked up after a moment. Roeder appeared to be + examining the monogram on his ring as if he had never seen it before. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't understand that you were married,” he said gently. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you? I don't think you ever called me by any name at all, or I + should have noticed your mistake and set you right. Yes, I'm married. I + came out here to get strong for the babies.” + </p> + <p> + “Got a boy an' a girl, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How old's th' boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Five.” + </p> + <p> + “An' th' girl?” + </p> + <p> + “She'll soon be four.” + </p> + <p> + “An' yer husband—he's livin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so! I'm a very happy woman, Mr. Roeder. If only I were + stronger!” + </p> + <p> + “Yer lookin' much better,” he said, gravely, “than when you come. You'll + be all right.” + </p> + <p> + The moon began to come up scarlet beyond the eastern hills. The two + watched it in silence. Kate had a feeling of guilt, as if she had been + hurting some helpless thing. + </p> + <p> + “I was in hopes,” he said, suddenly, in a voice that seemed abrupt and + shrill, “thet you'd see fit t' stay here.” + </p> + <p> + “Here in Helena? Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinkin' I'd offer you that two hundred thousand dollars, if you'd + stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Roeder! You don't mean-surely—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. Why not?” He spoke rather doggedly. “I'll never see no other + woman like you. You're different from others. How good you've been t' me!” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I'm afraid I've been very bad—at least, very stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, now—your husband's good t' you, ain't he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is the kindest man that ever lived.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I didn't know.” + </p> + <p> + A rather awkward pause followed which was broken by Roeder. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see jest what I'm goin' t' do with that thar two hundred thousand + dollars,” he said, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Do with it? Why, live with it! Send some to your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've done that. Five thousand dollars. It don't seem much here; but + it'll seem a lot t' her. I'd send her more, only it would've bothered + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is your house,—the house with the bath-room. But I + suppose you'll have other rooms?” + </p> + <p> + Peter laughed a little in spite of himself. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I won't have a house,” he said. “An' I couldn't make a garden + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Hire a man to help you.” Kate was trembling, but she kept talking gayly. + She was praying that nothing very serious would happen. There was an + undercurrent of sombreness in the man's manner that frightened her. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'll jest have t' keep on dreamin' of that boy playin' with th' + roses.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Kate; “he will come true some day! I know he'll come + true.” + </p> + <p> + Peter got up and stood by her chair. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know nothin' about it,” he said. “You don't know, an' you can't + know what it's bin t' me t' talk with you. Here I come out of a place + where there ain't no sound but the water and the pines. Years come an' go. + Still no sound. Only thinkin', thinkin', thinkin'! Missin' all th' things + men care fur! Dreamin' of a time when I sh'd strike th' pile. Then I seed + home, wife, a boy, flowers, everythin'. You're so beautiful, an' you're so + good. You've a way of pickin' a man's heart right out of him. First time I + set my eyes on you I thought you were th' nicest thing I ever see! And how + little you are! That hand of yours,—look at it,—it's like a + leaf! An' how easy you smile. Up th' gulch we didn't smile; we laughed, + but gen'ly because some one got in a fix. Then your voice! Ah, I've + thought fur years that some day I might hear a voice like that! Don't you + go! Sit still! I'm not blamin' you fur anythin'; but I may never, 's + long's I live, find any one who will understand things th' way you + understand 'em. Here! I tell you about that gulch an' you see that gulch. + You know how th' rain sounded thar, an' how th' shack looked, an' th' life + I led, an' all th' thoughts I had, an' th' long nights, an' th' times when—but + never mind. I know you know it all. I saw it in yer eyes. I tell you of + mother, an' you see 'er. You know 'er old German face, an' 'er proud ways, + an' her pride in me, an' how she would think I wuz awfully rich. An' you + see how she would give out them linens, all marked fur my wife, an' how I + would sit an' watch her doin' it, an'—you see everything. I know you + do. I could feel you doin' it. Then I say to myself: 'Here is th' one + woman in th' world made fur me. Whatever I have, she shall have. I'll + spend my life waitin' on her. She'll tell me all th' things I ought t' + know, an' hev missed knowin'; she'll read t' me; she'll be patient when + she finds how dull I've grown. And thar'll be th' boy—'” + </p> + <p> + He seized her hand and wrung it, and was gone. Kate saw him no more that + night. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the major returned. Kate threw her arms around his neck + and wept. + </p> + <p> + “I want the babies,” she explained when the major showed his + consternation. “Don't mind my crying. You ought to be used to seeing me + cry by this time. I must get home, that's all. I must see Jack.” + </p> + <p> + So that night they started. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the carriage stood Peter Roeder, waiting. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going t' ride down with you,” he said. The major looked nonplussed. + </p> + <p> + Kate got in and the major followed. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said to Roeder. He sat opposite and looked at her as if he + would fasten her image on his mind. + </p> + <p> + “You remember,” he said after a time, “that I told you I used t' dream of + sittin' on the veranda of th' hotel and havin' nothin' t' do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't think I care fur it. I've had a month of it. I'm goin' back + up th' gulch.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried Kate, instinctively reaching out her hands toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I guess you don't know me. I knew that somewhere I'd find a + friend. I found that friend; an' now I'm alone again. It's pretty quiet up + thar in the gulch; but I'll try it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Go to Europe; go to see your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought about that a good deal, a while ago. But I don't seem t' have + no heart fur it now. I feel as if I'd be safer in th' gulch.” + </p> + <p> + “Safer?” + </p> + <p> + “The world looks pretty big. It's safe and close in th' gulch.” + </p> + <p> + At the station the major went to look after the trunks, and Roeder put + Kate in her seat. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted t' give you something,” he said, seating himself beside her, + “but I didn't dare.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear friend,” she cried, laying her little gloved hand on his red + and knotted one, “don't go back into the shadow. Do not return to that + terrible silence. Wait. Have patience. Fate has brought you wealth. It + will bring you love.” + </p> + <p> + “I've somethin' to ask,” he said, paying no attention to her appeal. “You + must answer it. If we 'a' met long ago, an' you hadn't a husband or—anythin'—do + you think you'd've loved me then?” + </p> + <p> + She felt herself turning white. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said softly. “I could never have loved you, my dear friend. We + are not the same. Believe me, there is a woman somewhere who will love + you; but I am not that woman—nor could I have ever been.” + </p> + <p> + The train was starting. The major came bustling in. + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-by,” said Roeder, holding out his hand to Kate. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” she cried. “Don't go back up the gulch.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he said, reassuringly, “don't you worry about me, my—don't + worry. The gulch is a nice, quiet place. An' you know what I told you + about th' ranks all bein' full. Good-by.” The train was well under way. He + sprang off, and stood on the platform waving his handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Kate,” said the major, seating himself down comfortably and + adjusting his travelling cap, “did you find the Western type?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't quite know,” said she, slowly. “But I have made the discovery + that a human soul is much the same wherever you meet it.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! You haven't been meeting a soul, have you?” the major said, + facetiously, unbuckling his travelling-bag. “I'll tell Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll tell Jack. And he'll feel quite as badly as I do to think that I + could do nothing for its proper adjustment.” + </p> + <p> + The major's face took on a look of comprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Was that the soul,” he asked, “that just came down in the carriage with + us?” + </p> + <p> + “That was it,” assented Kate. “It was born; it has had its mortal day; and + it has gone back up the gulch.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A Michigan Man + </h2> + <p> + A PINE forest is nature's expression of solemnity and solitude. Sunlight, + rivers, cascades, people, music, laughter, or dancing could not make it + gay. With its unceasing reverberations and its eternal shadows, it is as + awful and as holy as a cathedral. + </p> + <p> + Thirty good fellows working together by day and drinking together by night + can keep up but a moody imitation of jollity. Spend twenty-five of your + forty years, as Luther Dallas did, in this perennial gloom, and your soul—that + which enjoys, aspires, competes—will be drugged as deep as if you + had quaffed the cup of oblivion. Luther Dallas was counted one of the most + experienced axe-men in the northern camps. He could fell a tree with the + swift surety of an executioner, and in revenge for his many arboral + murders the woodland had taken captive his mind, captured and chained it + as Prospero did Ariel. The resounding footsteps of Progress driven on so + mercilessly in this mad age could not reach his fastness. It did not + concern him that men were thinking, investigating, inventing. His senses + responded only to the sonorous music of the woods; a steadfast wind + ringing metallic melody from the pine-tops contented him as the sound of + the sea does the sailor; and dear as the odors of the ocean to the mariner + were the resinous scents of the forest to him. Like a sailor, too, he had + his superstitions. He had a presentiment that he was to die by one of + these trees,-that some day, in chopping, the tree would fall upon and + crush him as it did his father the day they brought him back to the camp + on a litter of pine boughs. + </p> + <p> + One day the gang-boss noticed a tree that Dallas had left standing in a + most unwoodmanlike manner in the section which was allotted to him. + </p> + <p> + “What in thunder is that standing there for?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Dallas raised his eyes to the pine, towering in stern dignity a hundred + feet above them. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said feebly, “I noticed it, but kind-a left it t' the last.” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it down to-morrow,” was the response. + </p> + <p> + The wind was rising, and the tree muttered savagely. Luther thought it + sounded like a menace, and turned pale. No trouble has yet been found that + will keep a man awake in the keen air of the pineries after he has been + swinging his axe all day, but the sleep of the chopper was so broken with + disturbing dreams that night that the beads gathered on his brow, and + twice he cried aloud. He ate his coarse flap-jacks in the morning and + escaped from the smoky shanty as soon as he could. + </p> + <p> + “It'll bring bad luck, I'm afraid,” he muttered as he went to get his axe + from the rack. He was as fond of his axe as a soldier of his musket, but + to-day he shouldered it with reluctance. He felt like a man with his + destiny before him. The tree stood like a sentinel. He raised his axe, + once, twice, a dozen times, but could not bring himself to make a cut in + the bark. He walked backwards a few steps and looked up. The funereal + green seemed to grow darker and darker till it became black. It was the + embodiment of sorrow. Was it not shaking giant arms at him? Did it not cry + out in angry challenge? Luther did not try to laugh at his fears; he had + never seen any humor in life. A gust of wind had someway crept through the + dense barricade of foliage that flanked the clearing, and struck him with + an icy chill. He looked at the sky; the day was advancing rapidly. He went + at his work with an energy as determined as despair. The axe in his + practised hand made clean straight cuts in the trunk, now on this side, + now on that. His task was not an easy one, but he finished it with + wonderful expedition. After the chopping was finished, the tree stood firm + a moment; then, as the tensely-strained fibres began a weird moaning, he + sprang aside, and stood waiting. In the distance he saw two men hewing a + log. The axe-man sent them a shout and threw up his arms for them to look. + The tree stood out clear and beautiful against the gray sky; the men + ceased their work and watched it. The vibrations became more violent, and + the sounds they produced grew louder and louder till they reached a shrill + wild cry. There came a pause, then a deep shuddering groan. The topmost + branches began to move slowly, the whole stately bulk swayed, and then + shot towards the ground. The gigantic trunk bounded from the stump, + recoiled like a cannon, crashed down, and lay conquered, with a roar as of + an earthquake, in a cloud of flying twigs and chips. + </p> + <p> + When the dust had cleared away, the men at the log on the outside of the + clearing could not see Luther. They ran to the spot, and found him lying + on the ground with his chest crushed in. His fearful eyes had not rightly + calculated the distance from the stump to the top of the pine, nor rightly + weighed the power of the massed branches, and so, standing spell-bound, + watching the descending trunk as one might watch his Nemesis, the rebound + came and left him lying worse than dead. + </p> + <p> + Three months later, when the logs, lopped of their branches, drifted down + the streams, the woodman, a human log lopped of his strength, drifted to a + great city. A change, the doctor said, might prolong his life. The + lumbermen made up a purse, and he started out, not very definitely knowing + his destination. He had a sister, much younger than himself, who at the + age of sixteen had married and gone, he believed, to Chicago. That was + years ago, but he had an idea that he might find her. He was not troubled + by his lack of resources; he did not believe that any man would want for a + meal unless he were “shiftless.” He had always been able to turn his hand + to something. + </p> + <p> + He felt too ill from the jostling of the cars to notice much of anything + on the journey. The dizzy scenes whirling past made him faint, and he was + glad to lie with closed eyes. He imagined that his little sister in her + pink calico frock and bare feet (as he remembered her) would be at the + station to meet him. “Oh, Lu!” she would call from some hiding-place, and + he would go and find her. + </p> + <p> + The conductor stopped by Luther's seat and said that they were in the city + at last; but it seemed to the sick man as if they went miles after that, + with a multitude of twinkling lights on one side and a blank darkness, + that they told him was the lake, on the other. The conductor again stopped + by his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my man,” said he, “how are you feeling?” + </p> + <p> + Luther, the possessor of the toughest muscles in the gang, felt a sick + man's irritation at the tone of pity. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm all right!” he said, gruffly, and shook off the assistance the + conductor tried to offer with his overcoat. “I'm going to my sister's,” he + explained, in answer to the inquiry as to where he was going. The man, + somewhat piqued at the spirit in which his overtures were met, left him, + and Luther stepped on to the platform. There was a long vista of + semi-light, down which crowds of people walked and baggage-men rushed. The + building, if it deserved the name, seemed a ruin, and through the arched + doors Luther could see men—hackmen-dancing and howling like + dervishes. Trains were coming and going, and the whistles and bells kept + up a ceaseless clangor. Luther, with his small satchel and uncouth dress, + slouched by the crowd unnoticed, and reached the street. He walked amid + such an illumination as he had never dreamed of, and paused half blinded + in the glare of a broad sheet of electric light that filled a pillared + entrance into which many people passed. He looked about him. Above on + every side rose great, many-windowed buildings; on the street the cars and + carriages thronged, and jostling crowds dashed headlong among the + vehicles. After a time he turned down a street that seemed to him a + pandemonium filled with madmen. It went to his head like wine, and hardly + left him the presence of mind to sustain a quiet exterior. The wind was + laden with a penetrating moisture that chilled him as the dry icy breezes + from Huron never had done, and the pain in his lungs made him faint and + dizzy. He wondered if his red-cheeked little sister could live in one of + those vast, impregnable buildings. He thought of stopping some of those + serious-looking men and asking them if they knew her; but he could not + muster up the courage. The distressing experience that comes to almost + every one some time in life, of losing all identity in the universal + humanity, was becoming his. The tears began to roll down his wasted face + from loneliness and exhaustion. He grew hungry with longing for the dirty + but familiar cabins of the camp, and staggered along with eyes half + closed, conjuring visions of the warm interiors, the leaping fires, the + groups of laughing men seen dimly through clouds of tobacco-smoke. + </p> + <p> + A delicious scent of coffee met his hungry sense and made him really think + he was taking the savory black draught from his familiar tin cup; but the + muddy streets, the blinding lights, the cruel, rushing people, were still + there. The buildings, however, now became different. They were lower and + meaner, with dirty windows. Women laughing loudly crowded about the doors, + and the establishments seemed to be equally divided between + saloon-keepers, pawnbrokers, and dealers in second-hand clothes. Luther + wondered where they all drew their support from. Upon one signboard he + read, “Lodgings 10 cents to 50 cents. A Square Meal for 15 cents,” and, + thankful for some haven, entered. Here he spent his first night and other + nights, while his purse dwindled and his strength waned. At last he got a + man in a drug-store to search the directory for his sister's residence. + They found a name he took to be his brother-in-law's. It was two days + later when he found the address,—a great, many-storied mansion on + one of the southern boulevards,—and found also that his search had + been in vain. Sore and faint, he staggered back to his miserable shelter, + only to arise feverish and ill in the morning. He frequented the great + shop doors, thronged with brilliantly-dressed ladies, and watched to see + if his little sister might not dash up in one of those satin-lined coaches + and take him where he would be warm and safe and would sleep undisturbed + by drunken, ribald songs and loathsome surroundings. There were days when + he almost forgot his name, and, striving to remember, would lose his + senses for a moment and drift back to the harmonious solitudes of the + North and breathe the resin-scented frosty atmosphere. He grew terrified + at the blood he coughed from his lacerated lungs, and wondered bitterly + why the boys did not come to take him home. + </p> + <p> + One day, as he painfully dragged himself down a residence street, he tried + to collect his thoughts and form some plan for the future. He had no + trade, understood no handiwork; he could fell trees. He looked at the + gaunt, scrawny, transplanted specimens that met his eye, and gave himself + up to the homesickness that filled his soul. He slept that night in the + shelter of a stable, and spent his last money in the morning for a + biscuit. + </p> + <p> + He travelled many miles that afternoon looking for something to which he + might turn his hand. Once he got permission to carry a hod for half an + hour. At the end of that time he fainted. When he recovered, the foreman + paid him twenty-five cents. “For God's sake, man, go home,” he said. + Luther stared at him with a white face and went on. + </p> + <p> + There came days when he so forgot his native dignity as to beg. He seldom + received anything; he was referred to various charitable institutions the + existence of which he had never heard. + </p> + <p> + One morning, when a pall of smoke enveloped the city and the odors of + coal-gas refused to lift their nauseating poison through the heavy air, + Luther, chilled with dew and famished, awoke to a happier life. The + loneliness at his heart was gone. The feeling of hopeless imprisonment + that the miles and miles of streets had terrified him with gave place to + one of freedom and exaltation. Above him he heard the rasping of pine + boughs; his feet trod on a rebounding mat of decay; the sky was as coldly + blue as the bosom of Huron. He walked as if on ether, singing a senseless + jargon the woodmen had aroused the echoes with,— + </p> +<p class="poetry"> + “Hi yi halloo! + The owl sees you! + Look what you do! + Hi yi halloo!” + </p> + <p> + Swung over his shoulder was a stick he had used to assist his limping + gait, but now transformed into the beloved axe. He would reach the + clearing soon, he thought, and strode on like a giant, while people + hurried from his path. Suddenly a smooth trunk, stripped of its bark and + bleached by weather, arose before him. + </p> + <p> + “Hi yi halloo!” High went the wasted arm—crash!—a broken + staff, a jingle of wires, a maddened, shouting man the centre of a group + of amused spectators! A few moments later, four broad-shouldered men in + blue had him in their grasp, pinioned and guarded, clattering over the + noisy streets behind two spirited horses. They drew after them a troop of + noisy, jeering boys, who danced about the wagon like a swirl of autumn + leaves. Then came a halt, and Luther was dragged up the steps of a square + brick building with a belfry on the top. They entered a large bare room + with benches ranged about the walls, and brought him before a man at a + desk. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked the man at the desk. + </p> + <p> + “Hi yi halloo!” said Luther. + </p> + <p> + “He's drunk, sergeant,” said one of the men in blue, and the axe-man was + led into the basement. He was conscious of an involuntary resistance, a + short struggle, and a final shock of pain,—then oblivion. + </p> + <p> + The chopper awoke to the realization of three stone walls and an iron + grating in front. Through this he looked out upon a stone flooring across + which was a row of similar apartments. He neither knew nor cared where he + was. The feeling of imprisonment was no greater than he had felt on the + endless, cheerless streets. He laid himself on the bench that ran along a + side wall, and, closing his eyes, listened to the babble of the clear + stream and the thunder of the “drive” on its journey. How the logs hurried + and jostled! crushing, whirling, ducking, with the merry lads leaping + about them with shouts and laughter. Suddenly he was recalled by a voice. + Some one handed a narrow tin cup full of coffee and a thick slice of bread + through the grating. Across the way he dimly saw a man eating a similar + slice of bread. Men in other compartments were swearing and singing. He + knew these now for the voices he had heard in his dreams. He tried to + force some of the bread down his parched and swollen throat, but failed; + the coffee strangled him, and he threw himself upon the bench. + </p> + <p> + The forest again, the night-wind, the whistle of the axe through the air. + Once when he opened his eyes he found it dark. It would soon be time to go + to work. He fancied there would be hoar-frost on the trees in the morning. + How close the cabin seemed! Ha!—here came his little sister. Her + voice sounded like the wind on a spring morning. How loud it swelled now! + “Lu! Lu!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the lock-up keeper opened the cell door. Luther lay with + his head in a pool of blood. His soul had escaped from the thrall of the + forest. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” said the little fat police-justice, when he was told of it. + “We ought to have a doctor around to look after such cases.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A Lady of Yesterday + </h2> + <p> + “A LIGHT wind blew from the gates of the sun,” the morning she first + walked down the street of the little Iowa town. Not a cloud flecked the + blue; there was a humming of happy insects; a smell of rich and moist loam + perfumed the air, and in the dusk of beeches and of oaks stood the quiet + homes. She paused now and then, looking in the gardens, or at a group of + children, then passed on, smiling in content. + </p> + <p> + Her accent was so strange, that the agent for real estate, whom she + visited, asked her, twice and once again, what it was she said. + </p> + <p> + “I want,” she had repeated smilingly, “an upland meadow, where clover will + grow, and mignonette.” + </p> + <p> + At the tea-tables that night, there was a mighty chattering. The brisk + village made a mystery of this lady with the slow step, the foreign trick + of speech, the long black gown, and the gentle voice. The men, concealing + their curiosity in presence of the women, gratified it secretly, by + sauntering to the tavern in the evening. There the keeper and his wife + stood ready to convey any neighborly intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “Elizabeth Astrado” was written in the register,—a name conveying + little, unaccompanied by title or by place of residence. + </p> + <p> + “She eats alone,” the tavern-keeper's wife confided to their eager ears, + “and asks for no service. Oh, she's a curiosity! She's got her story,—you'll + see!” + </p> + <p> + In a town where every man knew every other man, and whether or not he paid + his taxes on time, and what his standing was in church, and all the + skeletons of his home, a stranger alien to their ways disturbed their + peace of mind. + </p> + <p> + “An upland meadow where clover and mignonette will grow,” she had said, + and such an one she found, and planted thick with fine white clover and + with mignonette. Then, while the carpenters raised her cabin at the border + of the meadow, near the street, she passed among the villagers, mingling + with them gently, winning their good-will, in spite of themselves. + </p> + <p> + The cabin was of unbarked maple logs, with four rooms and a rustic + portico. Then all the villagers stared in very truth. They, living in + their trim and ugly little homes, accounted houses of logs as the + misfortune of their pioneer parents. A shed for wood, a barn for the + Jersey cow, a rustic fence, tall, with a high swinging gate, completed the + domain. In the front room of the cabin was a fireplace of rude brick. In + the bedrooms, cots as bare and hard as a nun's, and in the kitchen the + domestic necessaries; that was all. The poorest house-holder in the town + would not have confessed to such scant furnishing. Yet the richest man + might well have hesitated before he sent to France for hives and hives of + bees, as she did, setting them up along the southern border of her meadow. + </p> + <p> + Later there came strong boxes, marked with many marks of foreign + transportation lines, and the neighbor-gossips, seeing them, imagined + wealth of curious furniture; but the man who carted them told his wife, + who told her friend, who told her friend, that every box to the last one + was placed in the dry cemented cellar, and left there in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “An' a mighty ridic'lous expense a cellar like that is, t' put under a + house of that char'cter,” said the man to his wife—who repeated it + to her friend. + </p> + <p> + “But that ain't all,” the carpenter's wife had said when she heard about + it all, “Hank says there is one little room, not fit for buttery nor yet + fur closit, with a window high up—well, you ken see yourself-an' a + strong door. Jus' in passin' th' other day, when he was there, hangin' + some shelves, he tried it, an' it was locked!” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said the women who listened. + </p> + <p> + However, they were not unfriendly, these brisk gossips. Two of them, + plucking up tardy courage, did call one afternoon. Their hostess was out + among her bees, crooning to them, as it seemed, while they lighted all + about her, lit on the flower in her dark hair, buzzed vivaciously about + her snow-white linen gown, lighted on her long, dark hands. She came in + brightly when she saw her guests, and placed chairs for them, courteously, + steeped them a cup of pale and fragrant tea, and served them with little + cakes. Though her manner was so quiet and so kind, the women were shy + before her. She, turning to one and then the other, asked questions in her + quaint way. + </p> + <p> + “You have children, have you not?” + </p> + <p> + Both of them had. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” she cried, clasping those slender hands, “but you are very + fortunate! Your little ones,—what are their ages?” + </p> + <p> + They told her, she listening smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “And you nurse your little babes—you nurse them at the breast?” + </p> + <p> + The modest women blushed. They were not used to speaking with such + freedom. But they confessed they did, not liking artificial means. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the lady, looking at them with a soft light in her eyes, “as + you say, there is nothing like the good mother Nature. The little ones God + sends should lie at the breast. 'Tis not the milk alone that they imbibe; + it is the breath of life,-it is the human magnetism, the power,-how shall + I say? Happy the mother who has a little babe to hold!” + </p> + <p> + They wanted to ask a question, but they dared not—wanted to ask a + hundred questions. But back of the gentleness was a hauteur, and they were + still. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she said, breaking her reverie, “of what your husbands do. Are + they carpenters? Do they build houses for men, like the blessed Jesus? Or + are they tillers of the soil? Do they bring fruits out of this bountiful + valley?” + </p> + <p> + They answered, with a reservation of approval. “The blessed Jesus!” It + sounded like popery. + </p> + <p> + She had gone from these brief personal matters to other things. + </p> + <p> + “How very strong you people seem,” she had remarked. “Both your men and + your women are large and strong. You should be, being appointed to subdue + a continent. Men think they choose their destinies, but indeed, good + neighbors, I think not so. Men are driven by the winds of God's will. They + are as much bidden to build up this valley, this storehouse for the + nations, as coral insects are bidden to make the reefs with their own + little bodies, dying as they build. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “We are the creatures of God's will, I suppose,” said one of her visitors, + piously. + </p> + <p> + She had given them little confidences in return. + </p> + <p> + “I make my bread,” she said, with childish pride, “pray see if you do not + think it excellent!” And she cut a flaky loaf to display its whiteness. + One guest summoned the bravado to inquire,— + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not used to doing housework?” + </p> + <p> + “I?” she said, with a slow smile, “I have never got used to anything,—not + even living.” And so she baffled them all, yet won them. + </p> + <p> + The weeks went by. Elizabeth Astrado attended to her bees, milked her cow, + fed her fowls, baked, washed, and cleaned, like the simple women about + her, saving that as she did it a look of ineffable content lighted up her + face, and she sang for happiness. Sometimes, amid the ballads that she + hummed, a strain slipped in of some great melody, which she, singing + unaware, as it were, corrected, shaking her finger in self-reproval, and + returning again to the ballads and the hymns. Nor was she remiss in + neighborly offices; but if any were ailing, or had a festivity, she was at + hand to assist, condole, or congratulate, carrying always some simple gift + in her hand, appropriate to the occasion. + </p> + <p> + She had her wider charities too, for all she kept close to her home. When, + one day, a story came to her of a laborer struck down with heat in putting + in a culvert on the railroad, and gossip said he could not speak English, + she hastened to him, caught dying words from his lips, whispered a reply, + and then what seemed to be a prayer, while he held fast her hand, and sank + to coma with wistful eyes upon her face. Moreover 'twas she who buried + him, raising a cross above his grave, and she who planted rose-bushes + about the mound. + </p> + <p> + “He spoke like an Italian,” said the physician to her warily. + </p> + <p> + “And so he was,” she had replied. + </p> + <p> + “A fellow-countryman of yours, no doubt?” + </p> + <p> + “Are not all men our countrymen, my friend?” she said, gently. “What are + little lines drawn in the imagination of men, dividing territory, that + they should divide our sympathies? The world is my country—and + yours, I hope. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + Then there had also been a hapless pair of lovers, shamed before their + community, who, desperate, impoverished, and bewildered at the war between + nature and society, had been helped by her into a new part of the world. + There had been a widow with many children, who had found baskets of cooked + food and bundles of well-made clothing on her step. And as the days + passed, with these pleasant offices, the face of the strange woman glowed + with an ever-increasing content, and her dark, delicate beauty grew. + </p> + <p> + John Hartington spent his vacation at Des Moines, having a laudable desire + to see something of the world before returning to his native town, with + his college honors fresh upon him. Swiftest of the college runners was + John Hartington, famed for his leaping too, and measuring widest at the + chest and waist of all the hearty fellows at the university. His blond + curls clustered above a brow almost as innocent as a child's; his frank + and brave blue eyes, his free step, his mellow laugh, bespoke the perfect + animal, unharmed by civilization, unperplexed by the closing century's + fallacies and passions. The wholesome oak that spreads its roots deep in + the generous soil, could not be more a part of nature than he. + Conscientious, unimaginative, direct, sincere, industrious, he was the + ideal man of his kind, and his return to town caused a flutter among the + maidens which they did not even attempt to conceal. They told him all the + chat, of course, and, among other things, mentioned the great sensation of + the year,—the coming of the woman with her mystery, the purchase of + the sunny upland, the planting it with clover and with mignonette, the + building of the house of logs, the keeping of the bees, the barren rooms, + the busy, silent life, the charities, the never-ending wonder of it all. + And then the woman—kind, yet different from the rest, with the + foreign trick of tongue, the slow, proud walk, the delicate, slight hands, + the beautiful, beautiful smile, the air as of a creature from another + world. + </p> + <p> + Hartington, strolling beyond the village streets, up where the sunset died + in daffodil above the upland, saw the little cot of logs, and out before + it, among blood-red poppies, the woman of whom he had heard. Her gown of + white gleamed in that eerie radiance, glorified, her sad great eyes bent + on him in magnetic scrutiny. A peace and plenitude of power came radiating + from her, and reached him where he stood, suddenly, and for the first time + in his careless life, struck dumb and awed. She, too, seemed suddenly + abashed at this great bulk of youthful manhood, innocent and strong. She + gazed on him, and he on her, both chained with some mysterious + enchantment. Yet neither spoke, and he, turning in bewilderment at last, + went back to town, while she placed one hand on her lips to keep from + calling him. And neither slept that night, and in the morning when she + went with milking pail and stool out to the grassy field, there he stood + at the bars, waiting. Again they gazed, like creatures held in thrall by + some magician, till she held out her hand and said,— + </p> + <p> + “We must be friends, although we have not met. Perhaps we ARE old friends. + They say there have been worlds before this one. I have not seen you in + these habiliments of flesh and blood, and yet—we may be friends?” + </p> + <p> + John Hartington, used to the thin jests of the village girls, and all + their simple talk, rose, nevertheless, enlightened as he was with some + strange sympathy with her, to understand and answer what she said. + </p> + <p> + “I think perhaps it may be so. May I come in beside you in the field? Give + me the pail. I'll milk the cow for you.” + </p> + <p> + She threw her head back and laughed like a girl from school, and he + laughed too, and they shook hands. Then she sat near him while he milked, + both keeping silence, save for the p-rring noise he made with his lips to + the patient beast. Being through, she served him with a cupful of the + fragrant milk; but he bade her drink first, then drank himself, and then + they laughed again, as if they both had found something new and good in + life. + </p> + <p> + Then she,— + </p> + <p> + “Come see how well my bees are doing.” And they went. She served him with + the lucent syrup of the bees, perfumed with the mignonette,—such + honey as there never was before. He sat on the broad doorstep, near the + scarlet poppies, she on the grass, and then they talked—was it one + golden hour—or two? Ah, well, 'twas long enough for her to learn all + of his simple life, long enough for her to know that he was victor at the + races at the school, that he could play the pipe, like any shepherd of the + ancient days, and when he went he asked her if he might return. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” laughed she, “sometimes I am lonely. Come see me—in a week.” + </p> + <p> + Yet he was there that day at twilight, and he brought his silver pipe, and + piped to her under the stars, and she sung ballads to him,—songs of + Strephon and times when the hills were young, and flocks were fairer than + they ever be these days. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,” and still the intercourse, + still her dark loveliness waxing, still the weaving of the mystic spell, + still happiness as primitive and as sweet as ever Eden knew. + </p> + <p> + Then came a twilight when the sweet rain fell, and on the heavy air the + perfumes of the fields floated. The woman stood by the window of the cot, + looking out. Tall, graceful, full of that subtle power which drew his + soul; clothed in white linen, fragrant from her fields, with breath + freighted with fresh milk, with eyes of flame, she was there to be adored. + And he, being man of manliest type, forgot all that might have checked the + words, and poured his soul out at her feet. She drew herself up like a + queen, but only that she might look queenlier for his sake, and, bending, + kissed his brow, and whispered back his vows. + </p> + <p> + And they were married. + </p> + <p> + The villagers pitied Hartington. + </p> + <p> + “She's more than a match for him in years—an' in some other ways, as + like as not,” they said. “Besides, she ain't much inclined to mention + anything about her past. 'Twon't bear the tellin' probably.” + </p> + <p> + As for the lovers, they laughed as they went about their honest tasks, or + sat together arms encircling each at evening, now under the stars, and now + before their fire of wood. They talked together of their farm, added a + field for winter wheat, bought other cattle, and some horses, which they + rode out over the rolling prairies side by side. He never stopped to chat + about the town; she never ventured on the street without him by her side. + Truth to tell, their neighbors envied them, marvelling how one could + extract a heaven out of earth, and what such perfect joy could mean. + </p> + <p> + Yet, for all their prosperity, not one addition did they make to that most + simple home. It stood there, with its bare necessities, made beautiful + only with their love. But when the winter was most gone, he made a little + cradle of hard wood, in which she placed pillows of down, and over which + she hung linen curtains embroidered by her hand. + </p> + <p> + In the long evenings, by the flicker of the fire, they sat together, cheek + to cheek, and looked at this little bed, singing low songs together. + </p> + <p> + “This happiness is terrible, my John,” she said to him one night,—a + wondrous night, when the eastern wind had flung the tassels out on all the + budding trees of spring, and the air was throbbing with awakening life, + and balmy puffs of breeze, and odors of the earth. “And we are growing + young. Do you not think that we are very young and strong?” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her on the lips. “I know that you are beautiful,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we have lived at Nature's heart, you see, my love. The cattle and the + fowls, the honey and the wheat, the cot-the cradle, John, and you and me! + These things make happiness. They are nature. But then, you cannot + understand. You have never known the artificial—” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Elizabeth?” + </p> + <p> + “John, if you wish, you shall hear all I have to tell. 'Tis a long, long, + weary tale. Will you hear it now? Believe me, it will make us sad.” + </p> + <p> + She grasped his arm till he shrank with pain. + </p> + <p> + “Tell what you will and when you will, Elizabeth. Perhaps, some day—when—” + he pointed to the little crib. + </p> + <p> + “As you say.” And so it dropped. + </p> + <p> + There came a day when Hartington, sitting upon the portico, where perfumes + of the budding clover came to him, hated the humming of the happy bees, + hated the rustling of the trees, hated the sight of earth. + </p> + <p> + “The child is dead,” the nurse had said, “as for your wife, perhaps—” + but that was all. Finally he heard the nurse's step upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, motioning him. And he had gone, laid cheek against that + dying cheek, whispered his love once more, saw it returned even then, in + those deep eyes, and laid her back upon her pillow, dead. + </p> + <p> + He buried her among the mignonette, levelled the earth, sowed thick the + seed again. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis as she wished,” he said. + </p> + <p> + With his strong hands he wrenched the little crib, laid it piece by piece + upon their hearth, and scattered then the sacred ashes on the wind. Then, + with hard-coming breath, broke open the locked door of that room which he + had never entered, thinking to find there, perhaps, some sign of that + unguessable life of hers, but found there only an altar, with votive lamps + before the Blessed Virgin, and lilies faded and fallen from their stems. + </p> + <p> + Then down into the cellar went he, to those boxes, with the foreign marks. + And then, indeed, he found a hint of that dead life. Gowns of velvet and + of silk, such as princesses might wear, wonders of lace, yellowed with + time, great cloaks of snowy fur, lustrous robes, jewels of worth,—a + vast array of brilliant trumpery. Then there were books in many tongues, + with rich old bindings and illuminated page, and in them written the dead + woman's name,—a name of many parts, with titles of impress, and in + the midst of all the name, “Elizabeth Astrado,” as she said. + </p> + <p> + And that was all, or if there were more he might have learned, following + trails that fell within his way, he never learned it, being content, and + thankful that he had held her for a time within his arms, and looked in + her great soul, which, wearying of life's sad complexities, had simplified + itself, and made his love its best adornment. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + + + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MOUNTAIN WOMAN AND OTHERS ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> +<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> +• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive +from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the +method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is +owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has +agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 +days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required +to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be +clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, +“Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> +• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who +notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that +s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ +License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of +the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and +all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> +• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund +of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the +electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of +receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> +• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free +distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +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. +</div> + +</div> + </body> +</html> |