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@@ -1,768 +1,818 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of O Pioneers!, by Willa Cather - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org +The Project Gutenberg eBook of O Pioneers!, by Willa Cather +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. Title: O Pioneers! Author: Willa Cather -Posting Date: June 25, 2008 [EBook #24] -Release Date: January 1992 -Last Updated: March 9, 2018 +Release Date: December 26, 1991 [eBook #24] +[Most recently updated: August 25, 2021] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! *** +Produced by: Martin Robb and David Widger +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! *** -Produced by Martin Robb +O PIONEERS! +by Willa Sibert Cather + + + + +“Those fields, colored by various grain!” + +MICKIEWICZ + + +Contents + + PART I. The Wild Land + I + II + III + IV + V + + PART II. Neighboring Fields + I + II + III + IV + V + VI + VII + VIII + IX + X + XI + XII + + PART III. Winter Memories + I + II + + PART IV. The White Mulberry Tree + I + II + III + IV + V + VI + VII + VIII + + PART V. Alexandra + I + II + III + + + + +TO THE MEMORY OF +SARAH ORNE JEWETT +IN WHOSE BEAUTIFUL AND DELICATE WORK +THERE IS THE PERFECTION +THAT ENDURES -O PIONEERS! -by Willa Cather +PRAIRIE SPRING +Evening and the flat land, +Rich and sombre and always silent; +The miles of fresh-plowed soil, +Heavy and black, full of strength and harshness; +The growing wheat, the growing weeds, +The toiling horses, the tired men; +The long empty roads, +Sullen fires of sunset, fading, +The eternal, unresponsive sky. +Against all this, Youth, +Flaming like the wild roses, +Singing like the larks over the plowed fields, +Flashing like a star out of the twilight; +Youth with its insupportable sweetness, +Its fierce necessity, +Its sharp desire, +Singing and singing, +Out of the lips of silence, +Out of the earthy dusk. -PART I. The Wild Land + + +PART I. +The Wild Land I -One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, -anchored on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown -away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the -cluster of low drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under -a gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the -tough prairie sod; some of them looked as if they had been moved in -overnight, and others as if they were straying off by themselves, -headed straight for the open plain. None of them had any appearance -of permanence, and the howling wind blew under them as well as over -them. The main street was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard, -which ran from the squat red railway station and the grain “elevator” - at the north end of the town to the lumber yard and the horse pond -at the south end. On either side of this road straggled two uneven -rows of wooden buildings; the general merchandise stores, the two -banks, the drug store, the feed store, the saloon, the post-office. -The board sidewalks were gray with trampled snow, but at two o'clock -in the afternoon the shopkeepers, having come back from dinner, -were keeping well behind their frosty windows. The children were -all in school, and there was nobody abroad in the streets but a -few rough-looking countrymen in coarse overcoats, with their long -caps pulled down to their noses. Some of them had brought their -wives to town, and now and then a red or a plaid shawl flashed out -of one store into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars along -the street a few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, -shivered under their blankets. About the station everything was -quiet, for there would not be another train in until night. - -On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede -boy, crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth -coat was much too big for him and made him look like a little old -man. His shrunken brown flannel dress had been washed many times -and left a long stretch of stocking between the hem of his skirt -and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed shoes. His cap was pulled -down over his ears; his nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped and -red with cold. He cried quietly, and the few people who hurried -by did not notice him. He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to -go into the store and ask for help, so he sat wringing his long -sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole beside him, whimpering, “My -kitten, oh, my kitten! Her will fweeze!” At the top of the pole -crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing faintly and clinging -desperately to the wood with her claws. The boy had been left -at the store while his sister went to the doctor's office, and in + +One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, anchored +on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown away. A mist +of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the cluster of low +drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a gray sky. The +dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the tough prairie sod; some +of them looked as if they had been moved in overnight, and others as if +they were straying off by themselves, headed straight for the open +plain. None of them had any appearance of permanence, and the howling +wind blew under them as well as over them. The main street was a deeply +rutted road, now frozen hard, which ran from the squat red railway +station and the grain “elevator” at the north end of the town to the +lumber yard and the horse pond at the south end. On either side of this +road straggled two uneven rows of wooden buildings; the general +merchandise stores, the two banks, the drug store, the feed store, the +saloon, the post-office. The board sidewalks were gray with trampled +snow, but at two o’clock in the afternoon the shopkeepers, having come +back from dinner, were keeping well behind their frosty windows. The +children were all in school, and there was nobody abroad in the streets +but a few rough-looking countrymen in coarse overcoats, with their long +caps pulled down to their noses. Some of them had brought their wives +to town, and now and then a red or a plaid shawl flashed out of one +store into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars along the street a +few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, shivered under their +blankets. About the station everything was quiet, for there would not +be another train in until night. + +On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede boy, +crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth coat was +much too big for him and made him look like a little old man. His +shrunken brown flannel dress had been washed many times and left a long +stretch of stocking between the hem of his skirt and the tops of his +clumsy, copper-toed shoes. His cap was pulled down over his ears; his +nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped and red with cold. He cried +quietly, and the few people who hurried by did not notice him. He was +afraid to stop any one, afraid to go into the store and ask for help, +so he sat wringing his long sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole +beside him, whimpering, “My kitten, oh, my kitten! Her will fweeze!” At +the top of the pole crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing faintly +and clinging desperately to the wood with her claws. The boy had been +left at the store while his sister went to the doctor’s office, and in her absence a dog had chased his kitten up the pole. The little -creature had never been so high before, and she was too frightened -to move. Her master was sunk in despair. He was a little country -boy, and this village was to him a very strange and perplexing -place, where people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. He -always felt shy and awkward here, and wanted to hide behind things -for fear some one might laugh at him. Just now, he was too unhappy -to care who laughed. At last he seemed to see a ray of hope: his -sister was coming, and he got up and ran toward her in his heavy -shoes. +creature had never been so high before, and she was too frightened to +move. Her master was sunk in despair. He was a little country boy, and +this village was to him a very strange and perplexing place, where +people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. He always felt shy and +awkward here, and wanted to hide behind things for fear some one might +laugh at him. Just now, he was too unhappy to care who laughed. At last +he seemed to see a ray of hope: his sister was coming, and he got up +and ran toward her in his heavy shoes. His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she walked rapidly and -resolutely, as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she -was going to do next. She wore a man's long ulster (not as if it -were an affliction, but as if it were very comfortable and belonged -to her; carried it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap, -tied down with a thick veil. She had a serious, thoughtful face, -and her clear, deep blue eyes were fixed intently on the distance, -without seeming to see anything, as if she were in trouble. She -did not notice the little boy until he pulled her by the coat. -Then she stopped short and stooped down to wipe his wet face. - -“Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. -What is the matter with you?” - -“My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased -her up there.” His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his -coat, pointed up to the wretched little creature on the pole. - -“Oh, Emil! Didn't I tell you she'd get us into trouble of some -kind, if you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, -I ought to have known better myself.” She went to the foot of the -pole and held out her arms, crying, “Kitty, kitty, kitty,” but the -kitten only mewed and faintly waved its tail. Alexandra turned -away decidedly. “No, she won't come down. Somebody will have to -go up after her. I saw the Linstrums' wagon in town. I'll go and -see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do something. Only you must -stop crying, or I won't go a step. Where's your comforter? Did -you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold still, till I put -this on you.” - -She unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his -throat. A shabby little traveling man, who was just then coming out -of the store on his way to the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly -at the shining mass of hair she bared when she took off her veil; -two thick braids, pinned about her head in the German way, with a -fringe of reddish-yellow curls blowing out from under her cap. He -took his cigar out of his mouth and held the wet end between the -fingers of his woolen glove. “My God, girl, what a head of hair!” - he exclaimed, quite innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with -a glance of Amazonian fierceness and drew in her lower lip--most -unnecessary severity. It gave the little clothing drummer such a -start that he actually let his cigar fall to the sidewalk and went -off weakly in the teeth of the wind to the saloon. His hand was -still unsteady when he took his glass from the bartender. His -feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed before, but never -so mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, as if some one had -taken advantage of him. When a drummer had been knocking about in +resolutely, as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she was +going to do next. She wore a man’s long ulster (not as if it were an +affliction, but as if it were very comfortable and belonged to her; +carried it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap, tied down with +a thick veil. She had a serious, thoughtful face, and her clear, deep +blue eyes were fixed intently on the distance, without seeming to see +anything, as if she were in trouble. She did not notice the little boy +until he pulled her by the coat. Then she stopped short and stooped +down to wipe his wet face. + +“Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. What +is the matter with you?” + +“My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased her +up there.” His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his coat, +pointed up to the wretched little creature on the pole. + +“Oh, Emil! Didn’t I tell you she’d get us into trouble of some kind, if +you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, I ought to have +known better myself.” She went to the foot of the pole and held out her +arms, crying, “Kitty, kitty, kitty,” but the kitten only mewed and +faintly waved its tail. Alexandra turned away decidedly. “No, she won’t +come down. Somebody will have to go up after her. I saw the Linstrums’ +wagon in town. I’ll go and see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do +something. Only you must stop crying, or I won’t go a step. Where’s +your comforter? Did you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold still, +till I put this on you.” + +She unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his throat. +A shabby little traveling man, who was just then coming out of the +store on his way to the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly at the +shining mass of hair she bared when she took off her veil; two thick +braids, pinned about her head in the German way, with a fringe of +reddish-yellow curls blowing out from under her cap. He took his cigar +out of his mouth and held the wet end between the fingers of his woolen +glove. “My God, girl, what a head of hair!” he exclaimed, quite +innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with a glance of Amazonian +fierceness and drew in her lower lip—most unnecessary severity. It gave +the little clothing drummer such a start that he actually let his cigar +fall to the sidewalk and went off weakly in the teeth of the wind to +the saloon. His hand was still unsteady when he took his glass from the +bartender. His feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed before, +but never so mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, as if some one +had taken advantage of him. When a drummer had been knocking about in little drab towns and crawling across the wintry country in dirty -smoking-cars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced upon a fine -human creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a man? +smoking-cars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced upon a fine human +creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a man? While the little drummer was drinking to recover his nerve, Alexandra hurried to the drug store as the most likely place to find Carl Linstrum. There he was, turning over a portfolio of chromo “studies” - which the druggist sold to the Hanover women who did china-painting. -Alexandra explained her predicament, and the boy followed her to -the corner, where Emil still sat by the pole. - -“I'll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot -they have some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute.” Carl -thrust his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up -the street against the north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, -slight and narrow-chested. When he came back with the spikes, -Alexandra asked him what he had done with his overcoat. - -“I left it in the drug store. I couldn't climb in it, anyhow. -Catch me if I fall, Emil,” he called back as he began his ascent. -Alexandra watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the -ground. The kitten would not budge an inch. Carl had to go to -the very top of the pole, and then had some difficulty in tearing -her from her hold. When he reached the ground, he handed the cat -to her tearful little master. “Now go into the store with her, -Emil, and get warm.” He opened the door for the child. “Wait a -minute, Alexandra. Why can't I drive for you as far as our place? -It's getting colder every minute. Have you seen the doctor?” - -“Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father can't -get better; can't get well.” The girl's lip trembled. She looked -fixedly up the bleak street as if she were gathering her strength -to face something, as if she were trying with all her might to -grasp a situation which, no matter how painful, must be met and -dealt with somehow. The wind flapped the skirts of her heavy coat -about her. +which the druggist sold to the Hanover women who did china-painting. +Alexandra explained her predicament, and the boy followed her to the +corner, where Emil still sat by the pole. + +“I’ll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot they +have some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute.” Carl thrust +his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up the street +against the north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, slight and +narrow-chested. When he came back with the spikes, Alexandra asked him +what he had done with his overcoat. + +“I left it in the drug store. I couldn’t climb in it, anyhow. Catch me +if I fall, Emil,” he called back as he began his ascent. Alexandra +watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the ground. The +kitten would not budge an inch. Carl had to go to the very top of the +pole, and then had some difficulty in tearing her from her hold. When +he reached the ground, he handed the cat to her tearful little master. +“Now go into the store with her, Emil, and get warm.” He opened the +door for the child. “Wait a minute, Alexandra. Why can’t I drive for +you as far as our place? It’s getting colder every minute. Have you +seen the doctor?” + +“Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father can’t get better; +can’t get well.” The girl’s lip trembled. She looked fixedly up the +bleak street as if she were gathering her strength to face something, +as if she were trying with all her might to grasp a situation which, no +matter how painful, must be met and dealt with somehow. The wind +flapped the skirts of her heavy coat about her. Carl did not say anything, but she felt his sympathy. He, too, was -lonely. He was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very -quiet in all his movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin -face, and his mouth was too sensitive for a boy's. The lips had -already a little curl of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends -stood for a few moments on the windy street corner, not speaking -a word, as two travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand -and admit their perplexity in silence. When Carl turned away he -said, “I'll see to your team.” Alexandra went into the store to -have her purchases packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm before -she set out on her long cold drive. +lonely. He was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very quiet +in all his movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin face, and +his mouth was too sensitive for a boy’s. The lips had already a little +curl of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends stood for a few +moments on the windy street corner, not speaking a word, as two +travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand and admit their +perplexity in silence. When Carl turned away he said, “I’ll see to your +team.” Alexandra went into the store to have her purchases packed in +the egg-boxes, and to get warm before she set out on her long cold +drive. When she looked for Emil, she found him sitting on a step of the -staircase that led up to the clothing and carpet department. He -was playing with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was -tying her handkerchief over the kitten's head for a bonnet. Marie -was a stranger in the country, having come from Omaha with her mother -to visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. She was a dark child, with brown -curly hair, like a brunette doll's, a coaxing little red mouth, and -round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one noticed her eyes; the brown -iris had golden glints that made them look like gold-stone, or, in -softer lights, like that Colorado mineral called tiger-eye. - -The country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their -shoe-tops, but this city child was dressed in what was then called -the “Kate Greenaway” manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered -full from the yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her -poke bonnet, gave her the look of a quaint little woman. She had -a white fur tippet about her neck and made no fussy objections when -Emil fingered it admiringly. Alexandra had not the heart to take -him away from so pretty a playfellow, and she let them tease the -kitten together until Joe Tovesky came in noisily and picked up -his little niece, setting her on his shoulder for every one to see. -His children were all boys, and he adored this little creature. -His cronies formed a circle about him, admiring and teasing the -little girl, who took their jokes with great good nature. They -were all delighted with her, for they seldom saw so pretty and -carefully nurtured a child. They told her that she must choose -one of them for a sweetheart, and each began pressing his suit and -offering her bribes; candy, and little pigs, and spotted calves. -She looked archly into the big, brown, mustached faces, smelling -of spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny forefinger delicately -over Joe's bristly chin and said, “Here is my sweetheart.” - -The Bohemians roared with laughter, and Marie's uncle hugged her -until she cried, “Please don't, Uncle Joe! You hurt me.” Each -of Joe's friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all -around, though she did not like country candy very well. Perhaps -that was why she bethought herself of Emil. “Let me down, Uncle -Joe,” she said, “I want to give some of my candy to that nice little -boy I found.” She walked graciously over to Emil, followed by her -lusty admirers, who formed a new circle and teased the little boy -until he hid his face in his sister's skirts, and she had to scold -him for being such a baby. - -The farm people were making preparations to start for home. The -women were checking over their groceries and pinning their big red -shawls about their heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy -with what money they had left, were showing each other new boots and -gloves and blue flannel shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking -raw alcohol, tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was said to -fortify one effectually against the cold, and they smacked their -lips after each pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every -other noise in the place, and the overheated store sounded of -their spirited language as it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens, -and kerosene. - -Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with -a brass handle. “Come,” he said, “I've fed and watered your team, -and the wagon is ready.” He carried Emil out and tucked him down -in the straw in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy -sleepy, but he still clung to his kitten. - -“You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. -When I get big I'll climb and get little boys' kittens for them,” - he murmured drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, -Emil and his cat were both fast asleep. - -Although it was only four o'clock, the winter day was fading. The -road led southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that -glimmered in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young -faces that were turned mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, -who seemed to be looking with such anguished perplexity into the -future; upon the sombre eyes of the boy, who seemed already to be -looking into the past. The little town behind them had vanished as -if it had never been, had fallen behind the swell of the prairie, -and the stern frozen country received them into its bosom. The -homesteads were few and far apart; here and there a windmill gaunt -against the sky, a sod house crouching in a hollow. But the great -fact was the land itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little -beginnings of human society that struggled in its sombre wastes. -It was from facing this vast hardness that the boy's mouth had -become so bitter; because he felt that men were too weak to make -any mark here, that the land wanted to be let alone, to preserve +staircase that led up to the clothing and carpet department. He was +playing with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was tying her +handkerchief over the kitten’s head for a bonnet. Marie was a stranger +in the country, having come from Omaha with her mother to visit her +uncle, Joe Tovesky. She was a dark child, with brown curly hair, like a +brunette doll’s, a coaxing little red mouth, and round, yellow-brown +eyes. Every one noticed her eyes; the brown iris had golden glints that +made them look like gold-stone, or, in softer lights, like that +Colorado mineral called tiger-eye. + +The country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their shoe-tops, +but this city child was dressed in what was then called the “Kate +Greenaway” manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered full from the +yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her poke bonnet, gave her +the look of a quaint little woman. She had a white fur tippet about her +neck and made no fussy objections when Emil fingered it admiringly. +Alexandra had not the heart to take him away from so pretty a +playfellow, and she let them tease the kitten together until Joe +Tovesky came in noisily and picked up his little niece, setting her on +his shoulder for every one to see. His children were all boys, and he +adored this little creature. His cronies formed a circle about him, +admiring and teasing the little girl, who took their jokes with great +good nature. They were all delighted with her, for they seldom saw so +pretty and carefully nurtured a child. They told her that she must +choose one of them for a sweetheart, and each began pressing his suit +and offering her bribes; candy, and little pigs, and spotted calves. +She looked archly into the big, brown, mustached faces, smelling of +spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny forefinger delicately over +Joe’s bristly chin and said, “Here is my sweetheart.” + +The Bohemians roared with laughter, and Marie’s uncle hugged her until +she cried, “Please don’t, Uncle Joe! You hurt me.” Each of Joe’s +friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all around, though +she did not like country candy very well. Perhaps that was why she +bethought herself of Emil. “Let me down, Uncle Joe,” she said, “I want +to give some of my candy to that nice little boy I found.” She walked +graciously over to Emil, followed by her lusty admirers, who formed a +new circle and teased the little boy until he hid his face in his +sister’s skirts, and she had to scold him for being such a baby. + +The farm people were making preparations to start for home. The women +were checking over their groceries and pinning their big red shawls +about their heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy with what +money they had left, were showing each other new boots and gloves and +blue flannel shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking raw alcohol, +tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was said to fortify one +effectually against the cold, and they smacked their lips after each +pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every other noise in the +place, and the overheated store sounded of their spirited language as +it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens, and kerosene. + +Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with a +brass handle. “Come,” he said, “I’ve fed and watered your team, and the +wagon is ready.” He carried Emil out and tucked him down in the straw +in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy sleepy, but he still +clung to his kitten. + +“You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. When I +get big I’ll climb and get little boys’ kittens for them,” he murmured +drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, Emil and his cat +were both fast asleep. + +Although it was only four o’clock, the winter day was fading. The road +led southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that glimmered +in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young faces that +were turned mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, who seemed to +be looking with such anguished perplexity into the future; upon the +sombre eyes of the boy, who seemed already to be looking into the past. +The little town behind them had vanished as if it had never been, had +fallen behind the swell of the prairie, and the stern frozen country +received them into its bosom. The homesteads were few and far apart; +here and there a windmill gaunt against the sky, a sod house crouching +in a hollow. But the great fact was the land itself, which seemed to +overwhelm the little beginnings of human society that struggled in its +sombre wastes. It was from facing this vast hardness that the boy’s +mouth had become so bitter; because he felt that men were too weak to +make any mark here, that the land wanted to be let alone, to preserve its own fierce strength, its peculiar, savage kind of beauty, its uninterrupted mournfulness. -The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had -less to say to each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow -penetrated to their hearts. +The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had less +to say to each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow penetrated +to their hearts. “Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut wood to-day?” Carl asked. -“Yes. I'm almost sorry I let them go, it's turned so cold. But -mother frets if the wood gets low.” She stopped and put her hand -to her forehead, brushing back her hair. “I don't know what is to -become of us, Carl, if father has to die. I don't dare to think -about it. I wish we could all go with him and let the grass grow -back over everything.” +“Yes. I’m almost sorry I let them go, it’s turned so cold. But mother +frets if the wood gets low.” She stopped and put her hand to her +forehead, brushing back her hair. “I don’t know what is to become of +us, Carl, if father has to die. I don’t dare to think about it. I wish +we could all go with him and let the grass grow back over everything.” Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was the Norwegian graveyard, where the grass had, indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy and -red, hiding even the wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a -very helpful companion, but there was nothing he could say. +red, hiding even the wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a very +helpful companion, but there was nothing he could say. -“Of course,” Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, “the -boys are strong and work hard, but we've always depended so on -father that I don't see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if -there were nothing to go ahead for.” +“Of course,” Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, “the boys +are strong and work hard, but we’ve always depended so on father that I +don’t see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if there were nothing +to go ahead for.” “Does your father know?” -“Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. -I think he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It's -a comfort to him that my chickens are laying right on through the -cold weather and bringing in a little money. I wish we could keep -his mind off such things, but I don't have much time to be with -him now.” +“Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. I +think he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It’s a +comfort to him that my chickens are laying right on through the cold +weather and bringing in a little money. I wish we could keep his mind +off such things, but I don’t have much time to be with him now.” -“I wonder if he'd like to have me bring my magic lantern over some +“I wonder if he’d like to have me bring my magic lantern over some evening?” -Alexandra turned her face toward him. “Oh, Carl! Have you got -it?” +Alexandra turned her face toward him. “Oh, Carl! Have you got it?” -“Yes. It's back there in the straw. Didn't you notice the box -I was carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, -and it worked ever so well, makes fine big pictures.” +“Yes. It’s back there in the straw. Didn’t you notice the box I was +carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, and it +worked ever so well, makes fine big pictures.” “What are they about?” “Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny -pictures about cannibals. I'm going to paint some slides for it -on glass, out of the Hans Andersen book.” - -Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of -the child left in people who have had to grow up too soon. “Do -bring it over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I'm sure it -will please father. Are the pictures colored? Then I know he'll -like them. He likes the calendars I get him in town. I wish I -could get more. You must leave me here, mustn't you? It's been -nice to have company.” - -Carl stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. -“It's pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but -I think I'd better light your lantern, in case you should need it.” - -He gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where -he crouched down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen -trials he succeeded in lighting the lantern, which he placed in -front of Alexandra, half covering it with a blanket so that the -light would not shine in her eyes. “Now, wait until I find my box. -Yes, here it is. Good-night, Alexandra. Try not to worry.” Carl -sprang to the ground and ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum -homestead. “Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!” he called back as he disappeared over -a ridge and dropped into a sand gully. The wind answered him like -an echo, “Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!” Alexandra drove off alone. The -rattle of her wagon was lost in the howling of the wind, but her -lantern, held firmly between her feet, made a moving point of light -along the highway, going deeper and deeper into the dark country. +pictures about cannibals. I’m going to paint some slides for it on +glass, out of the Hans Andersen book.” + +Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of the +child left in people who have had to grow up too soon. “Do bring it +over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I’m sure it will please +father. Are the pictures colored? Then I know he’ll like them. He likes +the calendars I get him in town. I wish I could get more. You must +leave me here, mustn’t you? It’s been nice to have company.” + +Carl stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. “It’s +pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but I think I’d +better light your lantern, in case you should need it.” + +He gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where he +crouched down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen trials he +succeeded in lighting the lantern, which he placed in front of +Alexandra, half covering it with a blanket so that the light would not +shine in her eyes. “Now, wait until I find my box. Yes, here it is. +Good-night, Alexandra. Try not to worry.” Carl sprang to the ground and +ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum homestead. “Hoo, +hoo-o-o-o!” he called back as he disappeared over a ridge and dropped +into a sand gully. The wind answered him like an echo, “Hoo, +hoo-o-o-o-o-o!” Alexandra drove off alone. The rattle of her wagon was +lost in the howling of the wind, but her lantern, held firmly between +her feet, made a moving point of light along the highway, going deeper +and deeper into the dark country. II -On one of the ridges of that wintry waste stood the low log house -in which John Bergson was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier -to find than many another, because it overlooked Norway Creek, a -shallow, muddy stream that sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood -still, at the bottom of a winding ravine with steep, shelving sides -overgrown with brush and cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This creek -gave a sort of identity to the farms that bordered upon it. Of all -the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human -landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening. The -houses on the Divide were small and were usually tucked away -in low places; you did not see them until you came directly upon -them. Most of them were built of the sod itself, and were only -the unescapable ground in another form. The roads were but faint -tracks in the grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. The -record of the plow was insignificant, like the feeble scratches on -stone left by prehistoric races, so indeterminate that they may, -after all, be only the markings of glaciers, and not a record of -human strivings. - -In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression -upon the wild land he had come to tame. It was still a wild thing -that had its ugly moods; and no one knew when they were likely to -come, or why. Mischance hung over it. Its Genius was unfriendly -to man. The sick man was feeling this as he lay looking out of -the window, after the doctor had left him, on the day following -Alexandra's trip to town. There it lay outside his door, the same -land, the same lead-colored miles. He knew every ridge and draw -and gully between him and the horizon. To the south, his plowed -fields; to the east, the sod stables, the cattle corral, the -pond,--and then the grass. - -Bergson went over in his mind the things that had held him back. -One winter his cattle had perished in a blizzard. The next summer -one of his plow horses broke its leg in a prairiedog hole and had -to be shot. Another summer he lost his hogs from cholera, and -a valuable stallion died from a rattlesnake bite. Time and again -his crops had failed. He had lost two children, boys, that came -between Lou and Emil, and there had been the cost of sickness and -death. Now, when he had at last struggled out of debt, he was -going to die himself. He was only forty-six, and had, of course, -counted upon more time. - -Bergson had spent his first five years on the Divide getting into -debt, and the last six getting out. He had paid off his mortgages -and had ended pretty much where he began, with the land. He owned -exactly six hundred and forty acres of what stretched outside his -door; his own original homestead and timber claim, making three -hundred and twenty acres, and the half-section adjoining, the -homestead of a younger brother who had given up the fight, gone -back to Chicago to work in a fancy bakery and distinguish himself -in a Swedish athletic club. So far John had not attempted to -cultivate the second half-section, but used it for pasture land, -and one of his sons rode herd there in open weather. + +On one of the ridges of that wintry waste stood the low log house in +which John Bergson was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier to find +than many another, because it overlooked Norway Creek, a shallow, muddy +stream that sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood still, at the bottom +of a winding ravine with steep, shelving sides overgrown with brush and +cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This creek gave a sort of identity to the +farms that bordered upon it. Of all the bewildering things about a new +country, the absence of human landmarks is one of the most depressing +and disheartening. The houses on the Divide were small and were usually +tucked away in low places; you did not see them until you came directly +upon them. Most of them were built of the sod itself, and were only the +unescapable ground in another form. The roads were but faint tracks in +the grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. The record of the +plow was insignificant, like the feeble scratches on stone left by +prehistoric races, so indeterminate that they may, after all, be only +the markings of glaciers, and not a record of human strivings. + +In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression upon +the wild land he had come to tame. It was still a wild thing that had +its ugly moods; and no one knew when they were likely to come, or why. +Mischance hung over it. Its Genius was unfriendly to man. The sick man +was feeling this as he lay looking out of the window, after the doctor +had left him, on the day following Alexandra’s trip to town. There it +lay outside his door, the same land, the same lead-colored miles. He +knew every ridge and draw and gully between him and the horizon. To the +south, his plowed fields; to the east, the sod stables, the cattle +corral, the pond,—and then the grass. + +Bergson went over in his mind the things that had held him back. One +winter his cattle had perished in a blizzard. The next summer one of +his plow horses broke its leg in a prairiedog hole and had to be shot. +Another summer he lost his hogs from cholera, and a valuable stallion +died from a rattlesnake bite. Time and again his crops had failed. He +had lost two children, boys, that came between Lou and Emil, and there +had been the cost of sickness and death. Now, when he had at last +struggled out of debt, he was going to die himself. He was only +forty-six, and had, of course, counted upon more time. + +Bergson had spent his first five years on the Divide getting into debt, +and the last six getting out. He had paid off his mortgages and had +ended pretty much where he began, with the land. He owned exactly six +hundred and forty acres of what stretched outside his door; his own +original homestead and timber claim, making three hundred and twenty +acres, and the half-section adjoining, the homestead of a younger +brother who had given up the fight, gone back to Chicago to work in a +fancy bakery and distinguish himself in a Swedish athletic club. So far +John had not attempted to cultivate the second half-section, but used +it for pasture land, and one of his sons rode herd there in open +weather. John Bergson had the Old-World belief that land, in itself, is -desirable. But this land was an enigma. It was like a horse that -no one knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks -things to pieces. He had an idea that no one understood how to -farm it properly, and this he often discussed with Alexandra. Their -neighbors, certainly, knew even less about farming than he did. -Many of them had never worked on a farm until they took up their -homesteads. They had been HANDWERKERS at home; tailors, locksmiths, -joiners, cigar-makers, etc. Bergson himself had worked in a -shipyard. - -For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking about these things. His -bed stood in the sitting-room, next to the kitchen. Through the -day, while the baking and washing and ironing were going on, the -father lay and looked up at the roof beams that he himself had -hewn, or out at the cattle in the corral. He counted the cattle -over and over. It diverted him to speculate as to how much weight -each of the steers would probably put on by spring. He often called -his daughter in to talk to her about this. Before Alexandra was -twelve years old she had begun to be a help to him, and as she grew -older he had come to depend more and more upon her resourcefulness -and good judgment. His boys were willing enough to work, but when -he talked with them they usually irritated him. It was Alexandra -who read the papers and followed the markets, and who learned by -the mistakes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who could always -tell about what it had cost to fatten each steer, and who could -guess the weight of a hog before it went on the scales closer than -John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar were industrious, but he could +desirable. But this land was an enigma. It was like a horse that no one +knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks things to +pieces. He had an idea that no one understood how to farm it properly, +and this he often discussed with Alexandra. Their neighbors, certainly, +knew even less about farming than he did. Many of them had never worked +on a farm until they took up their homesteads. They had been +_handwerkers_ at home; tailors, locksmiths, joiners, cigar-makers, etc. +Bergson himself had worked in a shipyard. + +For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking about these things. His bed +stood in the sitting-room, next to the kitchen. Through the day, while +the baking and washing and ironing were going on, the father lay and +looked up at the roof beams that he himself had hewn, or out at the +cattle in the corral. He counted the cattle over and over. It diverted +him to speculate as to how much weight each of the steers would +probably put on by spring. He often called his daughter in to talk to +her about this. Before Alexandra was twelve years old she had begun to +be a help to him, and as she grew older he had come to depend more and +more upon her resourcefulness and good judgment. His boys were willing +enough to work, but when he talked with them they usually irritated +him. It was Alexandra who read the papers and followed the markets, and +who learned by the mistakes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who +could always tell about what it had cost to fatten each steer, and who +could guess the weight of a hog before it went on the scales closer +than John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar were industrious, but he could never teach them to use their heads about their work. -Alexandra, her father often said to himself, was like her -grandfather; which was his way of saying that she was intelligent. -John Bergson's father had been a shipbuilder, a man of considerable -force and of some fortune. Late in life he married a second time, -a Stockholm woman of questionable character, much younger than he, -who goaded him into every sort of extravagance. On the shipbuilder's -part, this marriage was an infatuation, the despairing folly of -a powerful man who cannot bear to grow old. In a few years his -unprincipled wife warped the probity of a lifetime. He speculated, -lost his own fortune and funds entrusted to him by poor seafaring -men, and died disgraced, leaving his children nothing. But when all -was said, he had come up from the sea himself, had built up a proud -little business with no capital but his own skill and foresight, and -had proved himself a man. In his daughter, John Bergson recognized -the strength of will, and the simple direct way of thinking things -out, that had characterized his father in his better days. He -would much rather, of course, have seen this likeness in one of -his sons, but it was not a question of choice. As he lay there -day after day he had to accept the situation as it was, and to be -thankful that there was one among his children to whom he could -entrust the future of his family and the possibilities of his -hard-won land. - -The winter twilight was fading. The sick man heard his wife strike -a match in the kitchen, and the light of a lamp glimmered through -the cracks of the door. It seemed like a light shining far away. -He turned painfully in his bed and looked at his white hands, with -all the work gone out of them. He was ready to give up, he felt. -He did not know how it had come about, but he was quite willing to -go deep under his fields and rest, where the plow could not find -him. He was tired of making mistakes. He was content to leave the -tangle to other hands; he thought of his Alexandra's strong ones. - -“DOTTER,” he called feebly, “DOTTER!” He heard her quick step and -saw her tall figure appear in the doorway, with the light of the -lamp behind her. He felt her youth and strength, how easily she -moved and stooped and lifted. But he would not have had it again -if he could, not he! He knew the end too well to wish to begin -again. He knew where it all went to, what it all became. - -His daughter came and lifted him up on his pillows. She called -him by an old Swedish name that she used to call him when she was -little and took his dinner to him in the shipyard. +Alexandra, her father often said to himself, was like her grandfather; +which was his way of saying that she was intelligent. John Bergson’s +father had been a shipbuilder, a man of considerable force and of some +fortune. Late in life he married a second time, a Stockholm woman of +questionable character, much younger than he, who goaded him into every +sort of extravagance. On the shipbuilder’s part, this marriage was an +infatuation, the despairing folly of a powerful man who cannot bear to +grow old. In a few years his unprincipled wife warped the probity of a +lifetime. He speculated, lost his own fortune and funds entrusted to +him by poor seafaring men, and died disgraced, leaving his children +nothing. But when all was said, he had come up from the sea himself, +had built up a proud little business with no capital but his own skill +and foresight, and had proved himself a man. In his daughter, John +Bergson recognized the strength of will, and the simple direct way of +thinking things out, that had characterized his father in his better +days. He would much rather, of course, have seen this likeness in one +of his sons, but it was not a question of choice. As he lay there day +after day he had to accept the situation as it was, and to be thankful +that there was one among his children to whom he could entrust the +future of his family and the possibilities of his hard-won land. + +The winter twilight was fading. The sick man heard his wife strike a +match in the kitchen, and the light of a lamp glimmered through the +cracks of the door. It seemed like a light shining far away. He turned +painfully in his bed and looked at his white hands, with all the work +gone out of them. He was ready to give up, he felt. He did not know how +it had come about, but he was quite willing to go deep under his fields +and rest, where the plow could not find him. He was tired of making +mistakes. He was content to leave the tangle to other hands; he thought +of his Alexandra’s strong ones. + +“_Dotter_,” he called feebly, “_dotter!_” He heard her quick step and +saw her tall figure appear in the doorway, with the light of the lamp +behind her. He felt her youth and strength, how easily she moved and +stooped and lifted. But he would not have had it again if he could, not +he! He knew the end too well to wish to begin again. He knew where it +all went to, what it all became. + +His daughter came and lifted him up on his pillows. She called him by +an old Swedish name that she used to call him when she was little and +took his dinner to him in the shipyard. “Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I want to speak to them.” -“They are feeding the horses, father. They have just come back -from the Blue. Shall I call them?” +“They are feeding the horses, father. They have just come back from the +Blue. Shall I call them?” -He sighed. “No, no. Wait until they come in. Alexandra, you will -have to do the best you can for your brothers. Everything will -come on you.” +He sighed. “No, no. Wait until they come in. Alexandra, you will have +to do the best you can for your brothers. Everything will come on you.” “I will do all I can, father.” -“Don't let them get discouraged and go off like Uncle Otto. I want -them to keep the land.” +“Don’t let them get discouraged and go off like Uncle Otto. I want them +to keep the land.” “We will, father. We will never lose the land.” -There was a sound of heavy feet in the kitchen. Alexandra went -to the door and beckoned to her brothers, two strapping boys of -seventeen and nineteen. They came in and stood at the foot of the -bed. Their father looked at them searchingly, though it was too -dark to see their faces; they were just the same boys, he told -himself, he had not been mistaken in them. The square head and -heavy shoulders belonged to Oscar, the elder. The younger boy was -quicker, but vacillating. - -“Boys,” said the father wearily, “I want you to keep the land -together and to be guided by your sister. I have talked to her -since I have been sick, and she knows all my wishes. I want no -quarrels among my children, and so long as there is one house there -must be one head. Alexandra is the oldest, and she knows my wishes. -She will do the best she can. If she makes mistakes, she will not -make so many as I have made. When you marry, and want a house of -your own, the land will be divided fairly, according to the courts. -But for the next few years you will have it hard, and you must all -keep together. Alexandra will manage the best she can.” - -Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, replied because he -was the older, “Yes, father. It would be so anyway, without your -speaking. We will all work the place together.” - -“And you will be guided by your sister, boys, and be good brothers -to her, and good sons to your mother? That is good. And Alexandra -must not work in the fields any more. There is no necessity now. -Hire a man when you need help. She can make much more with her -eggs and butter than the wages of a man. It was one of my mistakes -that I did not find that out sooner. Try to break a little more -land every year; sod corn is good for fodder. Keep turning the -land, and always put up more hay than you need. Don't grudge your -mother a little time for plowing her garden and setting out fruit -trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has been a good -mother to you, and she has always missed the old country.” - -When they went back to the kitchen the boys sat down silently at -the table. Throughout the meal they looked down at their plates -and did not lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, although -they had been working in the cold all day, and there was a rabbit -stewed in gravy for supper, and prune pies. +There was a sound of heavy feet in the kitchen. Alexandra went to the +door and beckoned to her brothers, two strapping boys of seventeen and +nineteen. They came in and stood at the foot of the bed. Their father +looked at them searchingly, though it was too dark to see their faces; +they were just the same boys, he told himself, he had not been mistaken +in them. The square head and heavy shoulders belonged to Oscar, the +elder. The younger boy was quicker, but vacillating. + +“Boys,” said the father wearily, “I want you to keep the land together +and to be guided by your sister. I have talked to her since I have been +sick, and she knows all my wishes. I want no quarrels among my +children, and so long as there is one house there must be one head. +Alexandra is the oldest, and she knows my wishes. She will do the best +she can. If she makes mistakes, she will not make so many as I have +made. When you marry, and want a house of your own, the land will be +divided fairly, according to the courts. But for the next few years you +will have it hard, and you must all keep together. Alexandra will +manage the best she can.” + +Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, replied because he was the +older, “Yes, father. It would be so anyway, without your speaking. We +will all work the place together.” + +“And you will be guided by your sister, boys, and be good brothers to +her, and good sons to your mother? That is good. And Alexandra must not +work in the fields any more. There is no necessity now. Hire a man when +you need help. She can make much more with her eggs and butter than the +wages of a man. It was one of my mistakes that I did not find that out +sooner. Try to break a little more land every year; sod corn is good +for fodder. Keep turning the land, and always put up more hay than you +need. Don’t grudge your mother a little time for plowing her garden and +setting out fruit trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has +been a good mother to you, and she has always missed the old country.” + +When they went back to the kitchen the boys sat down silently at the +table. Throughout the meal they looked down at their plates and did not +lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, although they had been +working in the cold all day, and there was a rabbit stewed in gravy for +supper, and prune pies. John Bergson had married beneath him, but he had married a good -housewife. Mrs. Bergson was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy -and placid like her son, Oscar, but there was something comfortable -about her; perhaps it was her own love of comfort. For eleven years -she had worthily striven to maintain some semblance of household -order amid conditions that made order very difficult. Habit -was very strong with Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting efforts to -repeat the routine of her old life among new surroundings had done -a great deal to keep the family from disintegrating morally and -getting careless in their ways. The Bergsons had a log house, for -instance, only because Mrs. Bergson would not live in a sod house. -She missed the fish diet of her own country, and twice every summer -she sent the boys to the river, twenty miles to the southward, to -fish for channel cat. When the children were little she used to -load them all into the wagon, the baby in its crib, and go fishing -herself. - -Alexandra often said that if her mother were cast upon a desert -island, she would thank God for her deliverance, make a garden, -and find something to preserve. Preserving was almost a mania with -Mrs. Bergson. Stout as she was, she roamed the scrubby banks of -Norway Creek looking for fox grapes and goose plums, like a wild -creature in search of prey. She made a yellow jam of the insipid -ground-cherries that grew on the prairie, flavoring it with lemon -peel; and she made a sticky dark conserve of garden tomatoes. She -had experimented even with the rank buffalo-pea, and she could -not see a fine bronze cluster of them without shaking her head and -murmuring, “What a pity!” When there was nothing more to preserve, -she began to pickle. The amount of sugar she used in these processes -was sometimes a serious drain upon the family resources. She was -a good mother, but she was glad when her children were old enough -not to be in her way in the kitchen. She had never quite forgiven -John Bergson for bringing her to the end of the earth; but, now -that she was there, she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct her -old life in so far as that was possible. She could still take some -comfort in the world if she had bacon in the cave, glass jars on -the shelves, and sheets in the press. She disapproved of all her -neighbors because of their slovenly housekeeping, and the women -thought her very proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on her way to -Norway Creek, stopped to see old Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in -the haymow “for fear Mis' Bergson would catch her barefoot.” +housewife. Mrs. Bergson was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy and +placid like her son, Oscar, but there was something comfortable about +her; perhaps it was her own love of comfort. For eleven years she had +worthily striven to maintain some semblance of household order amid +conditions that made order very difficult. Habit was very strong with +Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting efforts to repeat the routine of her +old life among new surroundings had done a great deal to keep the +family from disintegrating morally and getting careless in their ways. +The Bergsons had a log house, for instance, only because Mrs. Bergson +would not live in a sod house. She missed the fish diet of her own +country, and twice every summer she sent the boys to the river, twenty +miles to the southward, to fish for channel cat. When the children were +little she used to load them all into the wagon, the baby in its crib, +and go fishing herself. + +Alexandra often said that if her mother were cast upon a desert island, +she would thank God for her deliverance, make a garden, and find +something to preserve. Preserving was almost a mania with Mrs. Bergson. +Stout as she was, she roamed the scrubby banks of Norway Creek looking +for fox grapes and goose plums, like a wild creature in search of prey. +She made a yellow jam of the insipid ground-cherries that grew on the +prairie, flavoring it with lemon peel; and she made a sticky dark +conserve of garden tomatoes. She had experimented even with the rank +buffalo-pea, and she could not see a fine bronze cluster of them +without shaking her head and murmuring, “What a pity!” When there was +nothing more to preserve, she began to pickle. The amount of sugar she +used in these processes was sometimes a serious drain upon the family +resources. She was a good mother, but she was glad when her children +were old enough not to be in her way in the kitchen. She had never +quite forgiven John Bergson for bringing her to the end of the earth; +but, now that she was there, she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct +her old life in so far as that was possible. She could still take some +comfort in the world if she had bacon in the cave, glass jars on the +shelves, and sheets in the press. She disapproved of all her neighbors +because of their slovenly housekeeping, and the women thought her very +proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on her way to Norway Creek, stopped to +see old Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in the haymow “for fear Mis’ +Bergson would catch her barefoot.” III -One Sunday afternoon in July, six months after John Bergson's death, -Carl was sitting in the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming -over an illustrated paper, when he heard the rattle of a wagon along -the hill road. Looking up he recognized the Bergsons' team, with -two seats in the wagon, which meant they were off for a pleasure -excursion. Oscar and Lou, on the front seat, wore their cloth hats -and coats, never worn except on Sundays, and Emil, on the second -seat with Alexandra, sat proudly in his new trousers, made from a -pair of his father's, and a pink-striped shirt, with a wide ruffled -collar. Oscar stopped the horses and waved to Carl, who caught up -his hat and ran through the melon patch to join them. - -“Want to go with us?” Lou called. “We're going to Crazy Ivar's to -buy a hammock.” - -“Sure.” Carl ran up panting, and clambering over the wheel sat -down beside Emil. “I've always wanted to see Ivar's pond. They -say it's the biggest in all the country. Aren't you afraid to go -to Ivar's in that new shirt, Emil? He might want it and take it -right off your back.” - -Emil grinned. “I'd be awful scared to go,” he admitted, “if you -big boys weren't along to take care of me. Did you ever hear him -howl, Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the country howling -at night because he is afraid the Lord will destroy him. Mother -thinks he must have done something awful wicked.” - -Lou looked back and winked at Carl. “What would you do, Emil, if -you was out on the prairie by yourself and seen him coming?” + +One Sunday afternoon in July, six months after John Bergson’s death, +Carl was sitting in the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming over +an illustrated paper, when he heard the rattle of a wagon along the +hill road. Looking up he recognized the Bergsons’ team, with two seats +in the wagon, which meant they were off for a pleasure excursion. Oscar +and Lou, on the front seat, wore their cloth hats and coats, never worn +except on Sundays, and Emil, on the second seat with Alexandra, sat +proudly in his new trousers, made from a pair of his father’s, and a +pink-striped shirt, with a wide ruffled collar. Oscar stopped the +horses and waved to Carl, who caught up his hat and ran through the +melon patch to join them. + +“Want to go with us?” Lou called. “We’re going to Crazy Ivar’s to buy a +hammock.” + +“Sure.” Carl ran up panting, and clambering over the wheel sat down +beside Emil. “I’ve always wanted to see Ivar’s pond. They say it’s the +biggest in all the country. Aren’t you afraid to go to Ivar’s in that +new shirt, Emil? He might want it and take it right off your back.” + +Emil grinned. “I’d be awful scared to go,” he admitted, “if you big +boys weren’t along to take care of me. Did you ever hear him howl, +Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the country howling at night +because he is afraid the Lord will destroy him. Mother thinks he must +have done something awful wicked.” + +Lou looked back and winked at Carl. “What would you do, Emil, if you +was out on the prairie by yourself and seen him coming?” Emil stared. “Maybe I could hide in a badger-hole,” he suggested doubtfully. -“But suppose there wasn't any badger-hole,” Lou persisted. “Would -you run?” +“But suppose there wasn’t any badger-hole,” Lou persisted. “Would you +run?” -“No, I'd be too scared to run,” Emil admitted mournfully, twisting -his fingers. “I guess I'd sit right down on the ground and say my -prayers.” +“No, I’d be too scared to run,” Emil admitted mournfully, twisting his +fingers. “I guess I’d sit right down on the ground and say my prayers.” The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished his whip over the broad backs of the horses. -“He wouldn't hurt you, Emil,” said Carl persuasively. “He came -to doctor our mare when she ate green corn and swelled up most as -big as the water-tank. He petted her just like you do your cats. -I couldn't understand much he said, for he don't talk any English, -but he kept patting her and groaning as if he had the pain himself, -and saying, 'There now, sister, that's easier, that's better!'” - -Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled delightedly and looked up -at his sister. - -“I don't think he knows anything at all about doctoring,” said -Oscar scornfully. “They say when horses have distemper he takes -the medicine himself, and then prays over the horses.” - -Alexandra spoke up. “That's what the Crows said, but he cured -their horses, all the same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. -But if you can get him on a clear day, you can learn a great deal -from him. He understands animals. Didn't I see him take the horn -off the Berquist's cow when she had torn it loose and went crazy? -She was tearing all over the place, knocking herself against things. -And at last she ran out on the roof of the old dugout and her legs -went through and there she stuck, bellowing. Ivar came running -with his white bag, and the moment he got to her she was quiet and -let him saw her horn off and daub the place with tar.” +“He wouldn’t hurt you, Emil,” said Carl persuasively. “He came to +doctor our mare when she ate green corn and swelled up most as big as +the water-tank. He petted her just like you do your cats. I couldn’t +understand much he said, for he don’t talk any English, but he kept +patting her and groaning as if he had the pain himself, and saying, +‘There now, sister, that’s easier, that’s better!’” + +Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled delightedly and looked up at +his sister. + +“I don’t think he knows anything at all about doctoring,” said Oscar +scornfully. “They say when horses have distemper he takes the medicine +himself, and then prays over the horses.” + +Alexandra spoke up. “That’s what the Crows said, but he cured their +horses, all the same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. But if you +can get him on a clear day, you can learn a great deal from him. He +understands animals. Didn’t I see him take the horn off the Berquist’s +cow when she had torn it loose and went crazy? She was tearing all over +the place, knocking herself against things. And at last she ran out on +the roof of the old dugout and her legs went through and there she +stuck, bellowing. Ivar came running with his white bag, and the moment +he got to her she was quiet and let him saw her horn off and daub the +place with tar.” Emil had been watching his sister, his face reflecting the sufferings -of the cow. “And then didn't it hurt her any more?” he asked. - -Alexandra patted him. “No, not any more. And in two days they -could use her milk again.” - -The road to Ivar's homestead was a very poor one. He had settled -in the rough country across the county line, where no one lived but -some Russians,--half a dozen families who dwelt together in one long -house, divided off like barracks. Ivar had explained his choice -by saying that the fewer neighbors he had, the fewer temptations. -Nevertheless, when one considered that his chief business was -horse-doctoring, it seemed rather short-sighted of him to live in the -most inaccessible place he could find. The Bergson wagon lurched -along over the rough hummocks and grass banks, followed the bottom -of winding draws, or skirted the margin of wide lagoons, where the -golden coreopsis grew up out of the clear water and the wild ducks -rose with a whirr of wings. - -Lou looked after them helplessly. “I wish I'd brought my gun, -anyway, Alexandra,” he said fretfully. “I could have hidden it -under the straw in the bottom of the wagon.” - -“Then we'd have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, they say he can smell -dead birds. And if he knew, we wouldn't get anything out of him, -not even a hammock. I want to talk to him, and he won't talk sense -if he's angry. It makes him foolish.” - -Lou sniffed. “Whoever heard of him talking sense, anyhow! I'd -rather have ducks for supper than Crazy Ivar's tongue.” - -Emil was alarmed. “Oh, but, Lou, you don't want to make him mad! -He might howl!” +of the cow. “And then didn’t it hurt her any more?” he asked. + +Alexandra patted him. “No, not any more. And in two days they could use +her milk again.” + +The road to Ivar’s homestead was a very poor one. He had settled in the +rough country across the county line, where no one lived but some +Russians,—half a dozen families who dwelt together in one long house, +divided off like barracks. Ivar had explained his choice by saying that +the fewer neighbors he had, the fewer temptations. Nevertheless, when +one considered that his chief business was horse-doctoring, it seemed +rather short-sighted of him to live in the most inaccessible place he +could find. The Bergson wagon lurched along over the rough hummocks and +grass banks, followed the bottom of winding draws, or skirted the +margin of wide lagoons, where the golden coreopsis grew up out of the +clear water and the wild ducks rose with a whirr of wings. + +Lou looked after them helplessly. “I wish I’d brought my gun, anyway, +Alexandra,” he said fretfully. “I could have hidden it under the straw +in the bottom of the wagon.” + +“Then we’d have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, they say he can smell dead +birds. And if he knew, we wouldn’t get anything out of him, not even a +hammock. I want to talk to him, and he won’t talk sense if he’s angry. +It makes him foolish.” + +Lou sniffed. “Whoever heard of him talking sense, anyhow! I’d rather +have ducks for supper than Crazy Ivar’s tongue.” + +Emil was alarmed. “Oh, but, Lou, you don’t want to make him mad! He +might howl!” They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the horses up the crumbling -side of a clay bank. They had left the lagoons and the red grass -behind them. In Crazy Ivar's country the grass was short and gray, -the draws deeper than they were in the Bergsons' neighborhood, -and the land was all broken up into hillocks and clay ridges. The -wild flowers disappeared, and only in the bottom of the draws and -gullies grew a few of the very toughest and hardiest: shoestring, -and ironweed, and snow-on-the-mountain. - -“Look, look, Emil, there's Ivar's big pond!” Alexandra pointed to -a shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. -At one end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow -bushes, and above it a door and a single window were set into the -hillside. You would not have seen them at all but for the reflection -of the sunlight upon the four panes of window-glass. And that was -all you saw. Not a shed, not a corral, not a well, not even a path -broken in the curly grass. But for the piece of rusty stovepipe -sticking up through the sod, you could have walked over the roof -of Ivar's dwelling without dreaming that you were near a human -habitation. Ivar had lived for three years in the clay bank, -without defiling the face of nature any more than the coyote that -had lived there before him had done. - -When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar was sitting in the -doorway of his house, reading the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly -shaped old man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs. -His shaggy white hair, falling in a thick mane about his ruddy -cheeks, made him look older than he was. He was barefoot, but -he wore a clean shirt of unbleached cotton, open at the neck. He -always put on a clean shirt when Sunday morning came round, though -he never went to church. He had a peculiar religion of his own -and could not get on with any of the denominations. Often he did -not see anybody from one week's end to another. He kept a calendar, -and every morning he checked off a day, so that he was never in -any doubt as to which day of the week it was. Ivar hired himself -out in threshing and corn-husking time, and he doctored sick animals -when he was sent for. When he was at home, he made hammocks out -of twine and committed chapters of the Bible to memory. +side of a clay bank. They had left the lagoons and the red grass behind +them. In Crazy Ivar’s country the grass was short and gray, the draws +deeper than they were in the Bergsons’ neighborhood, and the land was +all broken up into hillocks and clay ridges. The wild flowers +disappeared, and only in the bottom of the draws and gullies grew a few +of the very toughest and hardiest: shoestring, and ironweed, and +snow-on-the-mountain. + +“Look, look, Emil, there’s Ivar’s big pond!” Alexandra pointed to a +shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. At one +end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow bushes, +and above it a door and a single window were set into the hillside. You +would not have seen them at all but for the reflection of the sunlight +upon the four panes of window-glass. And that was all you saw. Not a +shed, not a corral, not a well, not even a path broken in the curly +grass. But for the piece of rusty stovepipe sticking up through the +sod, you could have walked over the roof of Ivar’s dwelling without +dreaming that you were near a human habitation. Ivar had lived for +three years in the clay bank, without defiling the face of nature any +more than the coyote that had lived there before him had done. + +When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar was sitting in the doorway +of his house, reading the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly shaped old +man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs. His shaggy +white hair, falling in a thick mane about his ruddy cheeks, made him +look older than he was. He was barefoot, but he wore a clean shirt of +unbleached cotton, open at the neck. He always put on a clean shirt +when Sunday morning came round, though he never went to church. He had +a peculiar religion of his own and could not get on with any of the +denominations. Often he did not see anybody from one week’s end to +another. He kept a calendar, and every morning he checked off a day, so +that he was never in any doubt as to which day of the week it was. Ivar +hired himself out in threshing and corn-husking time, and he doctored +sick animals when he was sent for. When he was at home, he made +hammocks out of twine and committed chapters of the Bible to memory. Ivar found contentment in the solitude he had sought out for himself. -He disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the -bits of broken china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown -into the sunflower patch. He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of -the wild sod. He always said that the badgers had cleaner houses -than people, and that when he took a housekeeper her name would -be Mrs. Badger. He best expressed his preference for his wild -homestead by saying that his Bible seemed truer to him there. If -one stood in the doorway of his cave, and looked off at the rough -land, the smiling sky, the curly grass white in the hot sunlight; -if one listened to the rapturous song of the lark, the drumming of -the quail, the burr of the locust against that vast silence, one -understood what Ivar meant. - -On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with happiness. He closed -the book on his knee, keeping the place with his horny finger, and -repeated softly:-- - - He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills; - - They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench - their thirst. - - The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which - he hath planted; - - Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees - are her house. - - The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for - the conies. - -Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard the Bergsons' wagon +He disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the bits of +broken china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown into the +sunflower patch. He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of the wild +sod. He always said that the badgers had cleaner houses than people, +and that when he took a housekeeper her name would be Mrs. Badger. He +best expressed his preference for his wild homestead by saying that his +Bible seemed truer to him there. If one stood in the doorway of his +cave, and looked off at the rough land, the smiling sky, the curly +grass white in the hot sunlight; if one listened to the rapturous song +of the lark, the drumming of the quail, the burr of the locust against +that vast silence, one understood what Ivar meant. + +On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with happiness. He closed the +book on his knee, keeping the place with his horny finger, and repeated +softly:— + +He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills; +They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench +their thirst. +The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which he +hath planted; +Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees are +her house. +The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for the +conies. + + +Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard the Bergsons’ wagon approaching, and he sprang up and ran toward it. “No guns, no guns!” he shouted, waving his arms distractedly. @@ -772,2511 +822,2405 @@ approaching, and he sprang up and ran toward it. He dropped his arms and went up to the wagon, smiling amiably and looking at them out of his pale blue eyes. -“We want to buy a hammock, if you have one,” Alexandra explained, -“and my little brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where so -many birds come.” +“We want to buy a hammock, if you have one,” Alexandra explained, “and +my little brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where so many +birds come.” -Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the horses' noses and -feeling about their mouths behind the bits. “Not many birds just -now. A few ducks this morning; and some snipe come to drink. But -there was a crane last week. She spent one night and came back the -next evening. I don't know why. It is not her season, of course. -Many of them go over in the fall. Then the pond is full of strange -voices every night.” +Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the horses’ noses and feeling +about their mouths behind the bits. “Not many birds just now. A few +ducks this morning; and some snipe come to drink. But there was a crane +last week. She spent one night and came back the next evening. I don’t +know why. It is not her season, of course. Many of them go over in the +fall. Then the pond is full of strange voices every night.” Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked thoughtful. “Ask him, -Alexandra, if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have -heard so.” +Alexandra, if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have heard +so.” She had some difficulty in making the old man understand. He looked puzzled at first, then smote his hands together as he -remembered. “Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and -pink feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in the afternoon -and kept flying about the pond and screaming until dark. She was -in trouble of some sort, but I could not understand her. She was -going over to the other ocean, maybe, and did not know how far it -was. She was afraid of never getting there. She was more mournful -than our birds here; she cried in the night. She saw the light -from my window and darted up to it. Maybe she thought my house -was a boat, she was such a wild thing. Next morning, when the sun -rose, I went out to take her food, but she flew up into the sky -and went on her way.” Ivar ran his fingers through his thick hair. -“I have many strange birds stop with me here. They come from very -far away and are great company. I hope you boys never shoot wild -birds?” - -Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his bushy head. “Yes, I know -boys are thoughtless. But these wild things are God's birds. He -watches over them and counts them, as we do our cattle; Christ says -so in the New Testament.” - -“Now, Ivar,” Lou asked, “may we water our horses at your pond and -give them some feed? It's a bad road to your place.” - -“Yes, yes, it is.” The old man scrambled about and began to loose -the tugs. “A bad road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at -home!” - -Oscar brushed the old man aside. “We'll take care of the horses, -Ivar. You'll be finding some disease on them. Alexandra wants to -see your hammocks.” - -Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little cave house. He had but -one room, neatly plastered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden -floor. There was a kitchen stove, a table covered with oilcloth, -two chairs, a clock, a calendar, a few books on the window-shelf; -nothing more. But the place was as clean as a cupboard. +remembered. “Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and pink +feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in the afternoon and kept +flying about the pond and screaming until dark. She was in trouble of +some sort, but I could not understand her. She was going over to the +other ocean, maybe, and did not know how far it was. She was afraid of +never getting there. She was more mournful than our birds here; she +cried in the night. She saw the light from my window and darted up to +it. Maybe she thought my house was a boat, she was such a wild thing. +Next morning, when the sun rose, I went out to take her food, but she +flew up into the sky and went on her way.” Ivar ran his fingers through +his thick hair. “I have many strange birds stop with me here. They come +from very far away and are great company. I hope you boys never shoot +wild birds?” + +Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his bushy head. “Yes, I know boys +are thoughtless. But these wild things are God’s birds. He watches over +them and counts them, as we do our cattle; Christ says so in the New +Testament.” + +“Now, Ivar,” Lou asked, “may we water our horses at your pond and give +them some feed? It’s a bad road to your place.” + +“Yes, yes, it is.” The old man scrambled about and began to loose the +tugs. “A bad road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at home!” + +Oscar brushed the old man aside. “We’ll take care of the horses, Ivar. +You’ll be finding some disease on them. Alexandra wants to see your +hammocks.” + +Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little cave house. He had but one +room, neatly plastered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden floor. +There was a kitchen stove, a table covered with oilcloth, two chairs, a +clock, a calendar, a few books on the window-shelf; nothing more. But +the place was as clean as a cupboard. “But where do you sleep, Ivar?” Emil asked, looking about. -Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the wall; in it was rolled -a buffalo robe. “There, my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in -winter I wrap up in this skin. Where I go to work, the beds are -not half so easy as this.” - -By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. He thought a cave a -very superior kind of house. There was something pleasantly unusual -about it and about Ivar. “Do the birds know you will be kind to -them, Ivar? Is that why so many come?” he asked. - -Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his feet under him. “See, -little brother, they have come from a long way, and they are very -tired. From up there where they are flying, our country looks dark -and flat. They must have water to drink and to bathe in before -they can go on with their journey. They look this way and that, -and far below them they see something shining, like a piece of glass -set in the dark earth. That is my pond. They come to it and are -not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a little corn. They tell the other -birds, and next year more come this way. They have their roads up -there, as we have down here.” - -Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. “And is that true, Ivar, about -the head ducks falling back when they are tired, and the hind ones -taking their place?” - -“Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst of it; they cut the -wind. They can only stand it there a little while--half an hour, -maybe. Then they fall back and the wedge splits a little, while -the rear ones come up the middle to the front. Then it closes up -and they fly on, with a new edge. They are always changing like -that, up in the air. Never any confusion; just like soldiers who -have been drilled.” - -Alexandra had selected her hammock by the time the boys came up -from the pond. They would not come in, but sat in the shade of -the bank outside while Alexandra and Ivar talked about the birds -and about his housekeeping, and why he never ate meat, fresh or -salt. - -Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, her arms resting -on the table. Ivar was sitting on the floor at her feet. “Ivar,” - she said suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the oilcloth -with her forefinger, “I came to-day more because I wanted to talk -to you than because I wanted to buy a hammock.” +Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the wall; in it was rolled a +buffalo robe. “There, my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in winter I +wrap up in this skin. Where I go to work, the beds are not half so easy +as this.” + +By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. He thought a cave a very +superior kind of house. There was something pleasantly unusual about it +and about Ivar. “Do the birds know you will be kind to them, Ivar? Is +that why so many come?” he asked. + +Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his feet under him. “See, little +brother, they have come from a long way, and they are very tired. From +up there where they are flying, our country looks dark and flat. They +must have water to drink and to bathe in before they can go on with +their journey. They look this way and that, and far below them they see +something shining, like a piece of glass set in the dark earth. That is +my pond. They come to it and are not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a +little corn. They tell the other birds, and next year more come this +way. They have their roads up there, as we have down here.” + +Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. “And is that true, Ivar, about the +head ducks falling back when they are tired, and the hind ones taking +their place?” + +“Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst of it; they cut the wind. +They can only stand it there a little while—half an hour, maybe. Then +they fall back and the wedge splits a little, while the rear ones come +up the middle to the front. Then it closes up and they fly on, with a +new edge. They are always changing like that, up in the air. Never any +confusion; just like soldiers who have been drilled.” + +Alexandra had selected her hammock by the time the boys came up from +the pond. They would not come in, but sat in the shade of the bank +outside while Alexandra and Ivar talked about the birds and about his +housekeeping, and why he never ate meat, fresh or salt. + +Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, her arms resting on +the table. Ivar was sitting on the floor at her feet. “Ivar,” she said +suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the oilcloth with her +forefinger, “I came to-day more because I wanted to talk to you than +because I wanted to buy a hammock.” “Yes?” The old man scraped his bare feet on the plank floor. -“We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I wouldn't sell in the spring, -when everybody advised me to, and now so many people are losing -their hogs that I am frightened. What can be done?” - -Ivar's little eyes began to shine. They lost their vagueness. - -“You feed them swill and such stuff? Of course! And sour milk? -Oh, yes! And keep them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, -the hogs of this country are put upon! They become unclean, like -the hogs in the Bible. If you kept your chickens like that, what -would happen? You have a little sorghum patch, maybe? Put a fence -around it, and turn the hogs in. Build a shed to give them shade, -a thatch on poles. Let the boys haul water to them in barrels, -clean water, and plenty. Get them off the old stinking ground, and -do not let them go back there until winter. Give them only grain -and clean feed, such as you would give horses or cattle. Hogs do -not like to be filthy.” - -The boys outside the door had been listening. Lou nudged his -brother. “Come, the horses are done eating. Let's hitch up and -get out of here. He'll fill her full of notions. She'll be for -having the pigs sleep with us, next.” +“We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I wouldn’t sell in the spring, when +everybody advised me to, and now so many people are losing their hogs +that I am frightened. What can be done?” + +Ivar’s little eyes began to shine. They lost their vagueness. + +“You feed them swill and such stuff? Of course! And sour milk? Oh, yes! +And keep them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, the hogs of this +country are put upon! They become unclean, like the hogs in the Bible. +If you kept your chickens like that, what would happen? You have a +little sorghum patch, maybe? Put a fence around it, and turn the hogs +in. Build a shed to give them shade, a thatch on poles. Let the boys +haul water to them in barrels, clean water, and plenty. Get them off +the old stinking ground, and do not let them go back there until +winter. Give them only grain and clean feed, such as you would give +horses or cattle. Hogs do not like to be filthy.” + +The boys outside the door had been listening. Lou nudged his brother. +“Come, the horses are done eating. Let’s hitch up and get out of here. +He’ll fill her full of notions. She’ll be for having the pigs sleep +with us, next.” Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could not understand what Ivar -said, saw that the two boys were displeased. They did not mind -hard work, but they hated experiments and could never see the use -of taking pains. Even Lou, who was more elastic than his older -brother, disliked to do anything different from their neighbors. -He felt that it made them conspicuous and gave people a chance to -talk about them. +said, saw that the two boys were displeased. They did not mind hard +work, but they hated experiments and could never see the use of taking +pains. Even Lou, who was more elastic than his older brother, disliked +to do anything different from their neighbors. He felt that it made +them conspicuous and gave people a chance to talk about them. Once they were on the homeward road, the boys forgot their ill-humor and joked about Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose any reforms in the care of the pigs, and they hoped she had forgotten -Ivar's talk. They agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would -never be able to prove up on his land because he worked it so little. -Alexandra privately resolved that she would have a talk with Ivar -about this and stir him up. The boys persuaded Carl to stay for -supper and go swimming in the pasture pond after dark. +Ivar’s talk. They agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would never +be able to prove up on his land because he worked it so little. +Alexandra privately resolved that she would have a talk with Ivar about +this and stir him up. The boys persuaded Carl to stay for supper and go +swimming in the pasture pond after dark. -That evening, after she had washed the supper dishes, Alexandra -sat down on the kitchen doorstep, while her mother was mixing the -bread. It was a still, deep-breathing summer night, full of the -smell of the hay fields. Sounds of laughter and splashing came -up from the pasture, and when the moon rose rapidly above the bare -rim of the prairie, the pond glittered like polished metal, and -she could see the flash of white bodies as the boys ran about the -edge, or jumped into the water. Alexandra watched the shimmering -pool dreamily, but eventually her eyes went back to the sorghum -patch south of the barn, where she was planning to make her new -pig corral. +That evening, after she had washed the supper dishes, Alexandra sat +down on the kitchen doorstep, while her mother was mixing the bread. It +was a still, deep-breathing summer night, full of the smell of the hay +fields. Sounds of laughter and splashing came up from the pasture, and +when the moon rose rapidly above the bare rim of the prairie, the pond +glittered like polished metal, and she could see the flash of white +bodies as the boys ran about the edge, or jumped into the water. +Alexandra watched the shimmering pool dreamily, but eventually her eyes +went back to the sorghum patch south of the barn, where she was +planning to make her new pig corral. IV -For the first three years after John Bergson's death, the affairs -of his family prospered. Then came the hard times that brought -every one on the Divide to the brink of despair; three years of -drouth and failure, the last struggle of a wild soil against the -encroaching plowshare. The first of these fruitless summers the -Bergson boys bore courageously. The failure of the corn crop made -labor cheap. Lou and Oscar hired two men and put in bigger crops -than ever before. They lost everything they spent. The whole -country was discouraged. Farmers who were already in debt had to -give up their land. A few foreclosures demoralized the county. -The settlers sat about on the wooden sidewalks in the little town -and told each other that the country was never meant for men to live -in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, to Illinois, to any -place that had been proved habitable. The Bergson boys, certainly, -would have been happier with their uncle Otto, in the bakery shop -in Chicago. Like most of their neighbors, they were meant to follow -in paths already marked out for them, not to break trails in a new -country. A steady job, a few holidays, nothing to think about, and -they would have been very happy. It was no fault of theirs that -they had been dragged into the wilderness when they were little -boys. A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy -the idea of things more than the things themselves. - -The second of these barren summers was passing. One September -afternoon Alexandra had gone over to the garden across the draw to -dig sweet potatoes--they had been thriving upon the weather that -was fatal to everything else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the -garden rows to find her, she was not working. She was standing -lost in thought, leaning upon her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying -beside her on the ground. The dry garden patch smelled of drying -vines and was strewn with yellow seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and -citrons. At one end, next the rhubarb, grew feathery asparagus, -with red berries. Down the middle of the garden was a row of -gooseberry and currant bushes. A few tough zenias and marigolds -and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the buckets of water -that Mrs. Bergson had carried there after sundown, against the + +For the first three years after John Bergson’s death, the affairs of +his family prospered. Then came the hard times that brought every one +on the Divide to the brink of despair; three years of drouth and +failure, the last struggle of a wild soil against the encroaching +plowshare. The first of these fruitless summers the Bergson boys bore +courageously. The failure of the corn crop made labor cheap. Lou and +Oscar hired two men and put in bigger crops than ever before. They lost +everything they spent. The whole country was discouraged. Farmers who +were already in debt had to give up their land. A few foreclosures +demoralized the county. The settlers sat about on the wooden sidewalks +in the little town and told each other that the country was never meant +for men to live in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, to +Illinois, to any place that had been proved habitable. The Bergson +boys, certainly, would have been happier with their uncle Otto, in the +bakery shop in Chicago. Like most of their neighbors, they were meant +to follow in paths already marked out for them, not to break trails in +a new country. A steady job, a few holidays, nothing to think about, +and they would have been very happy. It was no fault of theirs that +they had been dragged into the wilderness when they were little boys. A +pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of +things more than the things themselves. + +The second of these barren summers was passing. One September afternoon +Alexandra had gone over to the garden across the draw to dig sweet +potatoes—they had been thriving upon the weather that was fatal to +everything else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the garden rows to find +her, she was not working. She was standing lost in thought, leaning +upon her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying beside her on the ground. The +dry garden patch smelled of drying vines and was strewn with yellow +seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and citrons. At one end, next the rhubarb, +grew feathery asparagus, with red berries. Down the middle of the +garden was a row of gooseberry and currant bushes. A few tough zenias +and marigolds and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the buckets of +water that Mrs. Bergson had carried there after sundown, against the prohibition of her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the garden path, looking intently at Alexandra. She did not hear him. She was -standing perfectly still, with that serious ease so characteristic -of her. Her thick, reddish braids, twisted about her head, fairly -burned in the sunlight. The air was cool enough to make the warm -sun pleasant on one's back and shoulders, and so clear that the -eye could follow a hawk up and up, into the blazing blue depths of -the sky. Even Carl, never a very cheerful boy, and considerably -darkened by these last two bitter years, loved the country on days -like this, felt something strong and young and wild come out of -it, that laughed at care. +standing perfectly still, with that serious ease so characteristic of +her. Her thick, reddish braids, twisted about her head, fairly burned +in the sunlight. The air was cool enough to make the warm sun pleasant +on one’s back and shoulders, and so clear that the eye could follow a +hawk up and up, into the blazing blue depths of the sky. Even Carl, +never a very cheerful boy, and considerably darkened by these last two +bitter years, loved the country on days like this, felt something +strong and young and wild come out of it, that laughed at care. “Alexandra,” he said as he approached her, “I want to talk to you. -Let's sit down by the gooseberry bushes.” He picked up her sack -of potatoes and they crossed the garden. “Boys gone to town?” he -asked as he sank down on the warm, sun-baked earth. “Well, we have -made up our minds at last, Alexandra. We are really going away.” - -She looked at him as if she were a little frightened. “Really, -Carl? Is it settled?” - -“Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and they will give him back -his old job in the cigar factory. He must be there by the first -of November. They are taking on new men then. We will sell the -place for whatever we can get, and auction the stock. We haven't -enough to ship. I am going to learn engraving with a German engraver -there, and then try to get work in Chicago.” - -Alexandra's hands dropped in her lap. Her eyes became dreamy and -filled with tears. - -Carl's sensitive lower lip trembled. He scratched in the soft earth -beside him with a stick. “That's all I hate about it, Alexandra,” - he said slowly. “You've stood by us through so much and helped -father out so many times, and now it seems as if we were running -off and leaving you to face the worst of it. But it isn't as if -we could really ever be of any help to you. We are only one more -drag, one more thing you look out for and feel responsible for. -Father was never meant for a farmer, you know that. And I hate -it. We'd only get in deeper and deeper.” - -“Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting your life here. You are -able to do much better things. You are nearly nineteen now, and -I wouldn't have you stay. I've always hoped you would get away. -But I can't help feeling scared when I think how I will miss -you--more than you will ever know.” She brushed the tears from her -cheeks, not trying to hide them. - -“But, Alexandra,” he said sadly and wistfully, “I've never been -any real help to you, beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in -a good humor.” - -Alexandra smiled and shook her head. “Oh, it's not that. Nothing -like that. It's by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, -that you've helped me. I expect that is the only way one person -ever really can help another. I think you are about the only one -that ever helped me. Somehow it will take more courage to bear -your going than everything that has happened before.” - -Carl looked at the ground. “You see, we've all depended so on you,” - he said, “even father. He makes me laugh. When anything comes up -he always says, 'I wonder what the Bergsons are going to do about -that? I guess I'll go and ask her.' I'll never forget that time, -when we first came here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran -over to your place--your father was away, and you came home with me -and showed father how to let the wind out of the horse. You were -only a little girl then, but you knew ever so much more about farm -work than poor father. You remember how homesick I used to get, -and what long talks we used to have coming from school? We've -someway always felt alike about things.” - -“Yes, that's it; we've liked the same things and we've liked them -together, without anybody else knowing. And we've had good times, +Let’s sit down by the gooseberry bushes.” He picked up her sack of +potatoes and they crossed the garden. “Boys gone to town?” he asked as +he sank down on the warm, sun-baked earth. “Well, we have made up our +minds at last, Alexandra. We are really going away.” + +She looked at him as if she were a little frightened. “Really, Carl? Is +it settled?” + +“Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and they will give him back his +old job in the cigar factory. He must be there by the first of +November. They are taking on new men then. We will sell the place for +whatever we can get, and auction the stock. We haven’t enough to ship. +I am going to learn engraving with a German engraver there, and then +try to get work in Chicago.” + +Alexandra’s hands dropped in her lap. Her eyes became dreamy and filled +with tears. + +Carl’s sensitive lower lip trembled. He scratched in the soft earth +beside him with a stick. “That’s all I hate about it, Alexandra,” he +said slowly. “You’ve stood by us through so much and helped father out +so many times, and now it seems as if we were running off and leaving +you to face the worst of it. But it isn’t as if we could really ever be +of any help to you. We are only one more drag, one more thing you look +out for and feel responsible for. Father was never meant for a farmer, +you know that. And I hate it. We’d only get in deeper and deeper.” + +“Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting your life here. You are able +to do much better things. You are nearly nineteen now, and I wouldn’t +have you stay. I’ve always hoped you would get away. But I can’t help +feeling scared when I think how I will miss you—more than you will ever +know.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks, not trying to hide them. + +“But, Alexandra,” he said sadly and wistfully, “I’ve never been any +real help to you, beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in a good +humor.” + +Alexandra smiled and shook her head. “Oh, it’s not that. Nothing like +that. It’s by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, that you’ve +helped me. I expect that is the only way one person ever really can +help another. I think you are about the only one that ever helped me. +Somehow it will take more courage to bear your going than everything +that has happened before.” + +Carl looked at the ground. “You see, we’ve all depended so on you,” he +said, “even father. He makes me laugh. When anything comes up he always +says, ‘I wonder what the Bergsons are going to do about that? I guess +I’ll go and ask her.’ I’ll never forget that time, when we first came +here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran over to your place—your +father was away, and you came home with me and showed father how to let +the wind out of the horse. You were only a little girl then, but you +knew ever so much more about farm work than poor father. You remember +how homesick I used to get, and what long talks we used to have coming +from school? We’ve someway always felt alike about things.” + +“Yes, that’s it; we’ve liked the same things and we’ve liked them +together, without anybody else knowing. And we’ve had good times, hunting for Christmas trees and going for ducks and making our plum -wine together every year. We've never either of us had any other -close friend. And now--” Alexandra wiped her eyes with the corner -of her apron, “and now I must remember that you are going where -you will have many friends, and will find the work you were meant -to do. But you'll write to me, Carl? That will mean a great deal -to me here.” - -“I'll write as long as I live,” cried the boy impetuously. “And -I'll be working for you as much as for myself, Alexandra. I want -to do something you'll like and be proud of. I'm a fool here, but -I know I can do something!” He sat up and frowned at the red grass. - -Alexandra sighed. “How discouraged the boys will be when they -hear. They always come home from town discouraged, anyway. So -many people are trying to leave the country, and they talk to our -boys and make them low-spirited. I'm afraid they are beginning to -feel hard toward me because I won't listen to any talk about going. -Sometimes I feel like I'm getting tired of standing up for this -country.” - -“I won't tell the boys yet, if you'd rather not.” - -“Oh, I'll tell them myself, to-night, when they come home. They'll -be talking wild, anyway, and no good comes of keeping bad news. -It's all harder on them than it is on me. Lou wants to get married, -poor boy, and he can't until times are better. See, there goes the -sun, Carl. I must be getting back. Mother will want her potatoes. -It's chilly already, the moment the light goes.” - -Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden afterglow throbbed in -the west, but the country already looked empty and mournful. A dark -moving mass came over the western hill, the Lee boy was bringing in -the herd from the other half-section. Emil ran from the windmill -to open the corral gate. From the log house, on the little rise -across the draw, the smoke was curling. The cattle lowed and -bellowed. In the sky the pale half-moon was slowly silvering. -Alexandra and Carl walked together down the potato rows. “I have -to keep telling myself what is going to happen,” she said softly. -“Since you have been here, ten years now, I have never really been -lonely. But I can remember what it was like before. Now I shall -have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and he is tender-hearted.” - -That night, when the boys were called to supper, they sat down -moodily. They had worn their coats to town, but they ate in their -striped shirts and suspenders. They were grown men now, and, as -Alexandra said, for the last few years they had been growing more -and more like themselves. Lou was still the slighter of the two, -the quicker and more intelligent, but apt to go off at half-cock. -He had a lively blue eye, a thin, fair skin (always burned red to -the neckband of his shirt in summer), stiff, yellow hair that would -not lie down on his head, and a bristly little yellow mustache, -of which he was very proud. Oscar could not grow a mustache; his -pale face was as bare as an egg, and his white eyebrows gave it an -empty look. He was a man of powerful body and unusual endurance; -the sort of man you could attach to a corn-sheller as you would -an engine. He would turn it all day, without hurrying, without -slowing down. But he was as indolent of mind as he was unsparing -of his body. His love of routine amounted to a vice. He worked -like an insect, always doing the same thing over in the same way, -regardless of whether it was best or no. He felt that there was -a sovereign virtue in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to -do things in the hardest way. If a field had once been in corn, -he couldn't bear to put it into wheat. He liked to begin his -corn-planting at the same time every year, whether the season were -backward or forward. He seemed to feel that by his own irreproachable -regularity he would clear himself of blame and reprove the weather. -When the wheat crop failed, he threshed the straw at a dead loss -to demonstrate how little grain there was, and thus prove his case -against Providence. - -Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and flighty; always planned to -get through two days' work in one, and often got only the least -important things done. He liked to keep the place up, but he never -got round to doing odd jobs until he had to neglect more pressing -work to attend to them. In the middle of the wheat harvest, when -the grain was over-ripe and every hand was needed, he would stop -to mend fences or to patch the harness; then dash down to the -field and overwork and be laid up in bed for a week. The two boys -balanced each other, and they pulled well together. They had been -good friends since they were children. One seldom went anywhere, -even to town, without the other. - -To-night, after they sat down to supper, Oscar kept looking at Lou -as if he expected him to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes -and frowned at his plate. It was Alexandra herself who at last -opened the discussion. +wine together every year. We’ve never either of us had any other close +friend. And now—” Alexandra wiped her eyes with the corner of her +apron, “and now I must remember that you are going where you will have +many friends, and will find the work you were meant to do. But you’ll +write to me, Carl? That will mean a great deal to me here.” + +“I’ll write as long as I live,” cried the boy impetuously. “And I’ll be +working for you as much as for myself, Alexandra. I want to do +something you’ll like and be proud of. I’m a fool here, but I know I +can do something!” He sat up and frowned at the red grass. + +Alexandra sighed. “How discouraged the boys will be when they hear. +They always come home from town discouraged, anyway. So many people are +trying to leave the country, and they talk to our boys and make them +low-spirited. I’m afraid they are beginning to feel hard toward me +because I won’t listen to any talk about going. Sometimes I feel like +I’m getting tired of standing up for this country.” + +“I won’t tell the boys yet, if you’d rather not.” + +“Oh, I’ll tell them myself, to-night, when they come home. They’ll be +talking wild, anyway, and no good comes of keeping bad news. It’s all +harder on them than it is on me. Lou wants to get married, poor boy, +and he can’t until times are better. See, there goes the sun, Carl. I +must be getting back. Mother will want her potatoes. It’s chilly +already, the moment the light goes.” + +Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden afterglow throbbed in the +west, but the country already looked empty and mournful. A dark moving +mass came over the western hill, the Lee boy was bringing in the herd +from the other half-section. Emil ran from the windmill to open the +corral gate. From the log house, on the little rise across the draw, +the smoke was curling. The cattle lowed and bellowed. In the sky the +pale half-moon was slowly silvering. Alexandra and Carl walked together +down the potato rows. “I have to keep telling myself what is going to +happen,” she said softly. “Since you have been here, ten years now, I +have never really been lonely. But I can remember what it was like +before. Now I shall have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and he is +tender-hearted.” + +That night, when the boys were called to supper, they sat down moodily. +They had worn their coats to town, but they ate in their striped shirts +and suspenders. They were grown men now, and, as Alexandra said, for +the last few years they had been growing more and more like themselves. +Lou was still the slighter of the two, the quicker and more +intelligent, but apt to go off at half-cock. He had a lively blue eye, +a thin, fair skin (always burned red to the neckband of his shirt in +summer), stiff, yellow hair that would not lie down on his head, and a +bristly little yellow mustache, of which he was very proud. Oscar could +not grow a mustache; his pale face was as bare as an egg, and his white +eyebrows gave it an empty look. He was a man of powerful body and +unusual endurance; the sort of man you could attach to a corn-sheller +as you would an engine. He would turn it all day, without hurrying, +without slowing down. But he was as indolent of mind as he was +unsparing of his body. His love of routine amounted to a vice. He +worked like an insect, always doing the same thing over in the same +way, regardless of whether it was best or no. He felt that there was a +sovereign virtue in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to do things +in the hardest way. If a field had once been in corn, he couldn’t bear +to put it into wheat. He liked to begin his corn-planting at the same +time every year, whether the season were backward or forward. He seemed +to feel that by his own irreproachable regularity he would clear +himself of blame and reprove the weather. When the wheat crop failed, +he threshed the straw at a dead loss to demonstrate how little grain +there was, and thus prove his case against Providence. + +Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and flighty; always planned to get +through two days’ work in one, and often got only the least important +things done. He liked to keep the place up, but he never got round to +doing odd jobs until he had to neglect more pressing work to attend to +them. In the middle of the wheat harvest, when the grain was over-ripe +and every hand was needed, he would stop to mend fences or to patch the +harness; then dash down to the field and overwork and be laid up in bed +for a week. The two boys balanced each other, and they pulled well +together. They had been good friends since they were children. One +seldom went anywhere, even to town, without the other. + +To-night, after they sat down to supper, Oscar kept looking at Lou as +if he expected him to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes and +frowned at his plate. It was Alexandra herself who at last opened the +discussion. “The Linstrums,” she said calmly, as she put another plate of hot -biscuit on the table, “are going back to St. Louis. The old man -is going to work in the cigar factory again.” +biscuit on the table, “are going back to St. Louis. The old man is +going to work in the cigar factory again.” -At this Lou plunged in. “You see, Alexandra, everybody who can -crawl out is going away. There's no use of us trying to stick it -out, just to be stubborn. There's something in knowing when to -quit.” +At this Lou plunged in. “You see, Alexandra, everybody who can crawl +out is going away. There’s no use of us trying to stick it out, just to +be stubborn. There’s something in knowing when to quit.” “Where do you want to go, Lou?” “Any place where things will grow,” said Oscar grimly. -Lou reached for a potato. “Chris Arnson has traded his half-section -for a place down on the river.” +Lou reached for a potato. “Chris Arnson has traded his half-section for +a place down on the river.” “Who did he trade with?” “Charley Fuller, in town.” -“Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, that Fuller has a head -on him. He's buying and trading for every bit of land he can get -up here. It'll make him a rich man, some day.” - -“He's rich now, that's why he can take a chance.” - -“Why can't we? We'll live longer than he will. Some day the land -itself will be worth more than all we can ever raise on it.” - -Lou laughed. “It could be worth that, and still not be worth -much. Why, Alexandra, you don't know what you're talking about. -Our place wouldn't bring now what it would six years ago. The -fellows that settled up here just made a mistake. Now they're -beginning to see this high land wasn't never meant to grow nothing -on, and everybody who ain't fixed to graze cattle is trying to -crawl out. It's too high to farm up here. All the Americans are -skinning out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, told me that -he was going to let Fuller take his land and stuff for four hundred -dollars and a ticket to Chicago.” - -“There's Fuller again!” Alexandra exclaimed. “I wish that man -would take me for a partner. He's feathering his nest! If only -poor people could learn a little from rich people! But all these -fellows who are running off are bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. -They couldn't get ahead even in good years, and they all got into -debt while father was getting out. I think we ought to hold on as -long as we can on father's account. He was so set on keeping this -land. He must have seen harder times than this, here. How was it -in the early days, mother?” +“Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, that Fuller has a head on +him. He’s buying and trading for every bit of land he can get up here. +It’ll make him a rich man, some day.” + +“He’s rich now, that’s why he can take a chance.” + +“Why can’t we? We’ll live longer than he will. Some day the land itself +will be worth more than all we can ever raise on it.” + +Lou laughed. “It could be worth that, and still not be worth much. Why, +Alexandra, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Our place wouldn’t +bring now what it would six years ago. The fellows that settled up here +just made a mistake. Now they’re beginning to see this high land wasn’t +never meant to grow nothing on, and everybody who ain’t fixed to graze +cattle is trying to crawl out. It’s too high to farm up here. All the +Americans are skinning out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, told +me that he was going to let Fuller take his land and stuff for four +hundred dollars and a ticket to Chicago.” + +“There’s Fuller again!” Alexandra exclaimed. “I wish that man would +take me for a partner. He’s feathering his nest! If only poor people +could learn a little from rich people! But all these fellows who are +running off are bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. They couldn’t get +ahead even in good years, and they all got into debt while father was +getting out. I think we ought to hold on as long as we can on father’s +account. He was so set on keeping this land. He must have seen harder +times than this, here. How was it in the early days, mother?” Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These family discussions always -depressed her, and made her remember all that she had been torn -away from. “I don't see why the boys are always taking on about -going away,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I don't want to move -again; out to some raw place, maybe, where we'd be worse off than -we are here, and all to do over again. I won't move! If the rest -of you go, I will ask some of the neighbors to take me in, and stay -and be buried by father. I'm not going to leave him by himself -on the prairie, for cattle to run over.” She began to cry more -bitterly. - -The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a soothing hand on her mother's -shoulder. “There's no question of that, mother. You don't have -to go if you don't want to. A third of the place belongs to you -by American law, and we can't sell without your consent. We only -want you to advise us. How did it use to be when you and father -first came? Was it really as bad as this, or not?” +depressed her, and made her remember all that she had been torn away +from. “I don’t see why the boys are always taking on about going away,” +she said, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want to move again; out to some raw +place, maybe, where we’d be worse off than we are here, and all to do +over again. I won’t move! If the rest of you go, I will ask some of the +neighbors to take me in, and stay and be buried by father. I’m not +going to leave him by himself on the prairie, for cattle to run over.” +She began to cry more bitterly. + +The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a soothing hand on her mother’s +shoulder. “There’s no question of that, mother. You don’t have to go if +you don’t want to. A third of the place belongs to you by American law, +and we can’t sell without your consent. We only want you to advise us. +How did it use to be when you and father first came? Was it really as +bad as this, or not?” “Oh, worse! Much worse,” moaned Mrs. Bergson. “Drouth, chince-bugs, hail, everything! My garden all cut to pieces like sauerkraut. No grapes on the creek, no nothing. The people all lived just like coyotes.” -Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. Lou followed him. -They felt that Alexandra had taken an unfair advantage in turning -their mother loose on them. The next morning they were silent and -reserved. They did not offer to take the women to church, but went -down to the barn immediately after breakfast and stayed there all -day. When Carl Linstrum came over in the afternoon, Alexandra -winked to him and pointed toward the barn. He understood her and -went down to play cards with the boys. They believed that a very -wicked thing to do on Sunday, and it relieved their feelings. - -Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Bergson -always took a nap, and Alexandra read. During the week she read -only the newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long evenings of -winter, she read a good deal; read a few things over a great many -times. She knew long portions of the “Frithjof Saga” by heart, -and, like most Swedes who read at all, she was fond of Longfellow's -verse,--the ballads and the “Golden Legend” and “The Spanish Student.” - To-day she sat in the wooden rocking-chair with the Swedish Bible -open on her knees, but she was not reading. She was looking -thoughtfully away at the point where the upland road disappeared -over the rim of the prairie. Her body was in an attitude of perfect -repose, such as it was apt to take when she was thinking earnestly. -Her mind was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not the least -spark of cleverness. - -All afternoon the sitting-room was full of quiet and sunlight. -Emil was making rabbit traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were -clucking and scratching brown holes in the flower beds, and the -wind was teasing the prince's feather by the door. +Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. Lou followed him. They +felt that Alexandra had taken an unfair advantage in turning their +mother loose on them. The next morning they were silent and reserved. +They did not offer to take the women to church, but went down to the +barn immediately after breakfast and stayed there all day. When Carl +Linstrum came over in the afternoon, Alexandra winked to him and +pointed toward the barn. He understood her and went down to play cards +with the boys. They believed that a very wicked thing to do on Sunday, +and it relieved their feelings. + +Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Bergson always +took a nap, and Alexandra read. During the week she read only the +newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long evenings of winter, she read +a good deal; read a few things over a great many times. She knew long +portions of the “Frithjof Saga” by heart, and, like most Swedes who +read at all, she was fond of Longfellow’s verse,—the ballads and the +“Golden Legend” and “The Spanish Student.” To-day she sat in the wooden +rocking-chair with the Swedish Bible open on her knees, but she was not +reading. She was looking thoughtfully away at the point where the +upland road disappeared over the rim of the prairie. Her body was in an +attitude of perfect repose, such as it was apt to take when she was +thinking earnestly. Her mind was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not +the least spark of cleverness. + +All afternoon the sitting-room was full of quiet and sunlight. Emil was +making rabbit traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were clucking and +scratching brown holes in the flower beds, and the wind was teasing the +prince’s feather by the door. That evening Carl came in with the boys to supper. -“Emil,” said Alexandra, when they were all seated at the table, -“how would you like to go traveling? Because I am going to take -a trip, and you can go with me if you want to.” +“Emil,” said Alexandra, when they were all seated at the table, “how +would you like to go traveling? Because I am going to take a trip, and +you can go with me if you want to.” -The boys looked up in amazement; they were always afraid of -Alexandra's schemes. Carl was interested. +The boys looked up in amazement; they were always afraid of Alexandra’s +schemes. Carl was interested. -“I've been thinking, boys,” she went on, “that maybe I am too set -against making a change. I'm going to take Brigham and the buckboard +“I’ve been thinking, boys,” she went on, “that maybe I am too set +against making a change. I’m going to take Brigham and the buckboard to-morrow and drive down to the river country and spend a few days -looking over what they've got down there. If I find anything good, -you boys can go down and make a trade.” +looking over what they’ve got down there. If I find anything good, you +boys can go down and make a trade.” “Nobody down there will trade for anything up here,” said Oscar gloomily. -“That's just what I want to find out. Maybe they are just as -discontented down there as we are up here. Things away from home -often look better than they are. You know what your Hans Andersen -book says, Carl, about the Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and -the Danes liking to buy Swedish bread, because people always think -the bread of another country is better than their own. Anyway, -I've heard so much about the river farms, I won't be satisfied till -I've seen for myself.” +“That’s just what I want to find out. Maybe they are just as +discontented down there as we are up here. Things away from home often +look better than they are. You know what your Hans Andersen book says, +Carl, about the Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and the Danes liking +to buy Swedish bread, because people always think the bread of another +country is better than their own. Anyway, I’ve heard so much about the +river farms, I won’t be satisfied till I’ve seen for myself.” -Lou fidgeted. “Look out! Don't agree to anything. Don't let them -fool you.” +Lou fidgeted. “Look out! Don’t agree to anything. Don’t let them fool +you.” -Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not yet learned to keep -away from the shell-game wagons that followed the circus. +Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not yet learned to keep away +from the shell-game wagons that followed the circus. -After supper Lou put on a necktie and went across the fields to -court Annie Lee, and Carl and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, -while Alexandra read “The Swiss Family Robinson” aloud to her mother -and Emil. It was not long before the two boys at the table neglected -their game to listen. They were all big children together, and they -found the adventures of the family in the tree house so absorbing -that they gave them their undivided attention. +After supper Lou put on a necktie and went across the fields to court +Annie Lee, and Carl and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, while +Alexandra read “The Swiss Family Robinson” aloud to her mother and +Emil. It was not long before the two boys at the table neglected their +game to listen. They were all big children together, and they found the +adventures of the family in the tree house so absorbing that they gave +them their undivided attention. V -Alexandra and Emil spent five days down among the river farms, -driving up and down the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about -their crops and to the women about their poultry. She spent a -whole day with one young farmer who had been away at school, and -who was experimenting with a new kind of clover hay. She learned -a great deal. As they drove along, she and Emil talked and planned. -At last, on the sixth day, Alexandra turned Brigham's head northward -and left the river behind. - -“There's nothing in it for us down there, Emil. There are a few -fine farms, but they are owned by the rich men in town, and couldn't -be bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. They can always -scrape along down there, but they can never do anything big. Down -there they have a little certainty, but up with us there is a big -chance. We must have faith in the high land, Emil. I want to hold -on harder than ever, and when you're a man you'll thank me.” She -urged Brigham forward. + +Alexandra and Emil spent five days down among the river farms, driving +up and down the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about their crops +and to the women about their poultry. She spent a whole day with one +young farmer who had been away at school, and who was experimenting +with a new kind of clover hay. She learned a great deal. As they drove +along, she and Emil talked and planned. At last, on the sixth day, +Alexandra turned Brigham’s head northward and left the river behind. + +“There’s nothing in it for us down there, Emil. There are a few fine +farms, but they are owned by the rich men in town, and couldn’t be +bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. They can always scrape +along down there, but they can never do anything big. Down there they +have a little certainty, but up with us there is a big chance. We must +have faith in the high land, Emil. I want to hold on harder than ever, +and when you’re a man you’ll thank me.” She urged Brigham forward. When the road began to climb the first long swells of the Divide, -Alexandra hummed an old Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his -sister looked so happy. Her face was so radiant that he felt shy -about asking her. For the first time, perhaps, since that land -emerged from the waters of geologic ages, a human face was set toward -it with love and yearning. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and -strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it, until -her tears blinded her. Then the Genius of the Divide, the great, -free spirit which breathes across it, must have bent lower than -it ever bent to a human will before. The history of every country -begins in the heart of a man or a woman. - -Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. That evening she held -a family council and told her brothers all that she had seen and -heard. - -“I want you boys to go down yourselves and look it over. Nothing -will convince you like seeing with your own eyes. The river land -was settled before this, and so they are a few years ahead of us, -and have learned more about farming. The land sells for three -times as much as this, but in five years we will double it. The -rich men down there own all the best land, and they are buying -all they can get. The thing to do is to sell our cattle and what -little old corn we have, and buy the Linstrum place. Then the next -thing to do is to take out two loans on our half-sections, and buy -Peter Crow's place; raise every dollar we can, and buy every acre -we can.” - -“Mortgage the homestead again?” Lou cried. He sprang up and began -to wind the clock furiously. “I won't slave to pay off another -mortgage. I'll never do it. You'd just as soon kill us all, -Alexandra, to carry out some scheme!” - -Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. “How do you propose to pay -off your mortgages?” - -Alexandra looked from one to the other and bit her lip. They had -never seen her so nervous. “See here,” she brought out at last. -“We borrow the money for six years. Well, with the money we buy -a half-section from Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter -from Struble, maybe. That will give us upwards of fourteen hundred -acres, won't it? You won't have to pay off your mortgages for six -years. By that time, any of this land will be worth thirty dollars -an acre--it will be worth fifty, but we'll say thirty; then you -can sell a garden patch anywhere, and pay off a debt of sixteen -hundred dollars. It's not the principal I'm worried about, it's -the interest and taxes. We'll have to strain to meet the payments. -But as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can sit down here -ten years from now independent landowners, not struggling farmers -any longer. The chance that father was always looking for has +Alexandra hummed an old Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his sister +looked so happy. Her face was so radiant that he felt shy about asking +her. For the first time, perhaps, since that land emerged from the +waters of geologic ages, a human face was set toward it with love and +yearning. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. Her +eyes drank in the breadth of it, until her tears blinded her. Then the +Genius of the Divide, the great, free spirit which breathes across it, +must have bent lower than it ever bent to a human will before. The +history of every country begins in the heart of a man or a woman. + +Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. That evening she held a family +council and told her brothers all that she had seen and heard. + +“I want you boys to go down yourselves and look it over. Nothing will +convince you like seeing with your own eyes. The river land was settled +before this, and so they are a few years ahead of us, and have learned +more about farming. The land sells for three times as much as this, but +in five years we will double it. The rich men down there own all the +best land, and they are buying all they can get. The thing to do is to +sell our cattle and what little old corn we have, and buy the Linstrum +place. Then the next thing to do is to take out two loans on our +half-sections, and buy Peter Crow’s place; raise every dollar we can, +and buy every acre we can.” + +“Mortgage the homestead again?” Lou cried. He sprang up and began to +wind the clock furiously. “I won’t slave to pay off another mortgage. +I’ll never do it. You’d just as soon kill us all, Alexandra, to carry +out some scheme!” + +Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. “How do you propose to pay off +your mortgages?” + +Alexandra looked from one to the other and bit her lip. They had never +seen her so nervous. “See here,” she brought out at last. “We borrow +the money for six years. Well, with the money we buy a half-section +from Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter from Struble, maybe. +That will give us upwards of fourteen hundred acres, won’t it? You +won’t have to pay off your mortgages for six years. By that time, any +of this land will be worth thirty dollars an acre—it will be worth +fifty, but we’ll say thirty; then you can sell a garden patch anywhere, +and pay off a debt of sixteen hundred dollars. It’s not the principal +I’m worried about, it’s the interest and taxes. We’ll have to strain to +meet the payments. But as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can +sit down here ten years from now independent landowners, not struggling +farmers any longer. The chance that father was always looking for has come.” -Lou was pacing the floor. “But how do you KNOW that land is going -to go up enough to pay the mortgages and--” - -“And make us rich besides?” Alexandra put in firmly. “I can't -explain that, Lou. You'll have to take my word for it. I KNOW, -that's all. When you drive about over the country you can feel it -coming.” - -Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, his hands hanging -between his knees. “But we can't work so much land,” he said -dully, as if he were talking to himself. “We can't even try. It -would just lie there and we'd work ourselves to death.” He sighed, -and laid his calloused fist on the table. - -Alexandra's eyes filled with tears. She put her hand on his -shoulder. “You poor boy, you won't have to work it. The men in -town who are buying up other people's land don't try to farm it. -They are the men to watch, in a new country. Let's try to do -like the shrewd ones, and not like these stupid fellows. I don't -want you boys always to have to work like this. I want you to be -independent, and Emil to go to school.” - -Lou held his head as if it were splitting. “Everybody will say we -are crazy. It must be crazy, or everybody would be doing it.” - -“If they were, we wouldn't have much chance. No, Lou, I was talking -about that with the smart young man who is raising the new kind -of clover. He says the right thing is usually just what everybody -don't do. Why are we better fixed than any of our neighbors? Because -father had more brains. Our people were better people than these -in the old country. We OUGHT to do more than they do, and see -further ahead. Yes, mother, I'm going to clear the table now.” - -Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable to see to the stock, -and they were gone a long while. When they came back Lou played on -his DRAGHARMONIKA and Oscar sat figuring at his father's secretary -all evening. They said nothing more about Alexandra's project, -but she felt sure now that they would consent to it. Just before -bedtime Oscar went out for a pail of water. When he did not come -back, Alexandra threw a shawl over her head and ran down the path -to the windmill. She found him sitting there with his head in his -hands, and she sat down beside him. - -“Don't do anything you don't want to do, Oscar,” she whispered. -She waited a moment, but he did not stir. “I won't say any more -about it, if you'd rather not. What makes you so discouraged?” - -“I dread signing my name to them pieces of paper,” he said slowly. -“All the time I was a boy we had a mortgage hanging over us.” - -“Then don't sign one. I don't want you to, if you feel that way.” - -Oscar shook his head. “No, I can see there's a chance that way. -I've thought a good while there might be. We're in so deep now, we -might as well go deeper. But it's hard work pulling out of debt. -Like pulling a threshing-machine out of the mud; breaks your back. -Me and Lou's worked hard, and I can't see it's got us ahead much.” - -“Nobody knows about that as well as I do, Oscar. That's why I want -to try an easier way. I don't want you to have to grub for every -dollar.” - -“Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it'll come out right. But signing -papers is signing papers. There ain't no maybe about that.” He -took his pail and trudged up the path to the house. - -Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against -the frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so -keenly through the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch -them, to think of their vastness and distance, and of their ordered -march. It fortified her to reflect upon the great operations -of nature, and when she thought of the law that lay behind them, -she felt a sense of personal security. That night she had a new -consciousness of the country, felt almost a new relation to it. -Even her talk with the boys had not taken away the feeling that had -overwhelmed her when she drove back to the Divide that afternoon. -She had never known before how much the country meant to her. The -chirping of the insects down in the long grass had been like the -sweetest music. She had felt as if her heart were hiding down -there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and all the little -wild things that crooned or buzzed in the sun. Under the long -shaggy ridges, she felt the future stirring. - - - - -PART II. Neighboring Fields +Lou was pacing the floor. “But how do you _know_ that land is going to +go up enough to pay the mortgages and—” + +“And make us rich besides?” Alexandra put in firmly. “I can’t explain +that, Lou. You’ll have to take my word for it. I _know_, that’s all. +When you drive about over the country you can feel it coming.” + +Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, his hands hanging between +his knees. “But we can’t work so much land,” he said dully, as if he +were talking to himself. “We can’t even try. It would just lie there +and we’d work ourselves to death.” He sighed, and laid his calloused +fist on the table. + +Alexandra’s eyes filled with tears. She put her hand on his shoulder. +“You poor boy, you won’t have to work it. The men in town who are +buying up other people’s land don’t try to farm it. They are the men to +watch, in a new country. Let’s try to do like the shrewd ones, and not +like these stupid fellows. I don’t want you boys always to have to work +like this. I want you to be independent, and Emil to go to school.” + +Lou held his head as if it were splitting. “Everybody will say we are +crazy. It must be crazy, or everybody would be doing it.” + +“If they were, we wouldn’t have much chance. No, Lou, I was talking +about that with the smart young man who is raising the new kind of +clover. He says the right thing is usually just what everybody don’t +do. Why are we better fixed than any of our neighbors? Because father +had more brains. Our people were better people than these in the old +country. We _ought_ to do more than they do, and see further ahead. +Yes, mother, I’m going to clear the table now.” + +Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable to see to the stock, and +they were gone a long while. When they came back Lou played on his +_dragharmonika_ and Oscar sat figuring at his father’s secretary all +evening. They said nothing more about Alexandra’s project, but she felt +sure now that they would consent to it. Just before bedtime Oscar went +out for a pail of water. When he did not come back, Alexandra threw a +shawl over her head and ran down the path to the windmill. She found +him sitting there with his head in his hands, and she sat down beside +him. + +“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, Oscar,” she whispered. She +waited a moment, but he did not stir. “I won’t say any more about it, +if you’d rather not. What makes you so discouraged?” + +“I dread signing my name to them pieces of paper,” he said slowly. “All +the time I was a boy we had a mortgage hanging over us.” + +“Then don’t sign one. I don’t want you to, if you feel that way.” + +Oscar shook his head. “No, I can see there’s a chance that way. I’ve +thought a good while there might be. We’re in so deep now, we might as +well go deeper. But it’s hard work pulling out of debt. Like pulling a +threshing-machine out of the mud; breaks your back. Me and Lou’s worked +hard, and I can’t see it’s got us ahead much.” + +“Nobody knows about that as well as I do, Oscar. That’s why I want to +try an easier way. I don’t want you to have to grub for every dollar.” + +“Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it’ll come out right. But signing +papers is signing papers. There ain’t no maybe about that.” He took his +pail and trudged up the path to the house. + +Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against the +frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so keenly +through the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch them, to think +of their vastness and distance, and of their ordered march. It +fortified her to reflect upon the great operations of nature, and when +she thought of the law that lay behind them, she felt a sense of +personal security. That night she had a new consciousness of the +country, felt almost a new relation to it. Even her talk with the boys +had not taken away the feeling that had overwhelmed her when she drove +back to the Divide that afternoon. She had never known before how much +the country meant to her. The chirping of the insects down in the long +grass had been like the sweetest music. She had felt as if her heart +were hiding down there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and +all the little wild things that crooned or buzzed in the sun. Under the +long shaggy ridges, she felt the future stirring. + + + + +PART II. +Neighboring Fields I -IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. His wife now lies -beside him, and the white shaft that marks their graves gleams -across the wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, he would -not know the country under which he has been asleep. The shaggy coat -of the prairie, which they lifted to make him a bed, has vanished -forever. From the Norwegian graveyard one looks out over a vast -checker-board, marked off in squares of wheat and corn; light and -dark, dark and light. Telephone wires hum along the white roads, -which always run at right angles. From the graveyard gate one can -count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the gilded weather-vanes -on the big red barns wink at each other across the green and brown -and yellow fields. The light steel windmills tremble throughout -their frames and tug at their moorings, as they vibrate in the wind -that often blows from one week's end to another across that high, -active, resolute stretch of country. + +IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. His wife now lies beside +him, and the white shaft that marks their graves gleams across the +wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, he would not know the +country under which he has been asleep. The shaggy coat of the prairie, +which they lifted to make him a bed, has vanished forever. From the +Norwegian graveyard one looks out over a vast checker-board, marked off +in squares of wheat and corn; light and dark, dark and light. Telephone +wires hum along the white roads, which always run at right angles. From +the graveyard gate one can count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the +gilded weather-vanes on the big red barns wink at each other across the +green and brown and yellow fields. The light steel windmills tremble +throughout their frames and tug at their moorings, as they vibrate in +the wind that often blows from one week’s end to another across that +high, active, resolute stretch of country. The Divide is now thickly populated. The rich soil yields heavy -harvests; the dry, bracing climate and the smoothness of the land -make labor easy for men and beasts. There are few scenes more -gratifying than a spring plowing in that country, where the furrows -of a single field often lie a mile in length, and the brown earth, -with such a strong, clean smell, and such a power of growth and -fertility in it, yields itself eagerly to the plow; rolls away -from the shear, not even dimming the brightness of the metal, with -a soft, deep sigh of happiness. The wheat-cutting sometimes goes -on all night as well as all day, and in good seasons there are -scarcely men and horses enough to do the harvesting. The grain is -so heavy that it bends toward the blade and cuts like velvet. - -There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face -of the country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the -season, holding nothing back. Like the plains of Lombardy, it -seems to rise a little to meet the sun. The air and the earth are -curiously mated and intermingled, as if the one were the breath -of the other. You feel in the atmosphere the same tonic, puissant -quality that is in the tilth, the same strength and resoluteness. +harvests; the dry, bracing climate and the smoothness of the land make +labor easy for men and beasts. There are few scenes more gratifying +than a spring plowing in that country, where the furrows of a single +field often lie a mile in length, and the brown earth, with such a +strong, clean smell, and such a power of growth and fertility in it, +yields itself eagerly to the plow; rolls away from the shear, not even +dimming the brightness of the metal, with a soft, deep sigh of +happiness. The wheat-cutting sometimes goes on all night as well as all +day, and in good seasons there are scarcely men and horses enough to do +the harvesting. The grain is so heavy that it bends toward the blade +and cuts like velvet. + +There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face of the +country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, +holding nothing back. Like the plains of Lombardy, it seems to rise a +little to meet the sun. The air and the earth are curiously mated and +intermingled, as if the one were the breath of the other. You feel in +the atmosphere the same tonic, puissant quality that is in the tilth, +the same strength and resoluteness. One June morning a young man stood at the gate of the Norwegian -graveyard, sharpening his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to -the tune he was whistling. He wore a flannel cap and duck trousers, -and the sleeves of his white flannel shirt were rolled back to -the elbow. When he was satisfied with the edge of his blade, he -slipped the whetstone into his hip pocket and began to swing his -scythe, still whistling, but softly, out of respect to the quiet -folk about him. Unconscious respect, probably, for he seemed -intent upon his own thoughts, and, like the Gladiator's, they were -far away. He was a splendid figure of a boy, tall and straight -as a young pine tree, with a handsome head, and stormy gray eyes, -deeply set under a serious brow. The space between his two front -teeth, which were unusually far apart, gave him the proficiency -in whistling for which he was distinguished at college. (He also -played the cornet in the University band.) - -When the grass required his close attention, or when he had to -stoop to cut about a head-stone, he paused in his lively air,--the -“Jewel” song,--taking it up where he had left it when his scythe -swung free again. He was not thinking about the tired pioneers -over whom his blade glittered. The old wild country, the struggle -in which his sister was destined to succeed while so many men broke -their hearts and died, he can scarcely remember. That is all among -the dim things of childhood and has been forgotten in the brighter -pattern life weaves to-day, in the bright facts of being captain -of the track team, and holding the interstate record for the high -jump, in the all-suffusing brightness of being twenty-one. Yet -sometimes, in the pauses of his work, the young man frowned and -looked at the ground with an intentness which suggested that even -twenty-one might have its problems. - -When he had been mowing the better part of an hour, he heard the -rattle of a light cart on the road behind him. Supposing that it -was his sister coming back from one of her farms, he kept on with -his work. The cart stopped at the gate and a merry contralto voice -called, “Almost through, Emil?” He dropped his scythe and went -toward the fence, wiping his face and neck with his handkerchief. -In the cart sat a young woman who wore driving gauntlets and a wide -shade hat, trimmed with red poppies. Her face, too, was rather -like a poppy, round and brown, with rich color in her cheeks and -lips, and her dancing yellow-brown eyes bubbled with gayety. The -wind was flapping her big hat and teasing a curl of her chestnut-colored -hair. She shook her head at the tall youth. - -“What time did you get over here? That's not much of a job for -an athlete. Here I've been to town and back. Alexandra lets you -sleep late. Oh, I know! Lou's wife was telling me about the way -she spoils you. I was going to give you a lift, if you were done.” - She gathered up her reins. - -“But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for me, Marie,” Emil -coaxed. “Alexandra sent me to mow our lot, but I've done half a -dozen others, you see. Just wait till I finish off the Kourdnas'. -By the way, they were Bohemians. Why aren't they up in the Catholic -graveyard?” +graveyard, sharpening his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to the +tune he was whistling. He wore a flannel cap and duck trousers, and the +sleeves of his white flannel shirt were rolled back to the elbow. When +he was satisfied with the edge of his blade, he slipped the whetstone +into his hip pocket and began to swing his scythe, still whistling, but +softly, out of respect to the quiet folk about him. Unconscious +respect, probably, for he seemed intent upon his own thoughts, and, +like the Gladiator’s, they were far away. He was a splendid figure of a +boy, tall and straight as a young pine tree, with a handsome head, and +stormy gray eyes, deeply set under a serious brow. The space between +his two front teeth, which were unusually far apart, gave him the +proficiency in whistling for which he was distinguished at college. (He +also played the cornet in the University band.) + +When the grass required his close attention, or when he had to stoop to +cut about a head-stone, he paused in his lively air,—the “Jewel” +song,—taking it up where he had left it when his scythe swung free +again. He was not thinking about the tired pioneers over whom his blade +glittered. The old wild country, the struggle in which his sister was +destined to succeed while so many men broke their hearts and died, he +can scarcely remember. That is all among the dim things of childhood +and has been forgotten in the brighter pattern life weaves to-day, in +the bright facts of being captain of the track team, and holding the +interstate record for the high jump, in the all-suffusing brightness of +being twenty-one. Yet sometimes, in the pauses of his work, the young +man frowned and looked at the ground with an intentness which suggested +that even twenty-one might have its problems. + +When he had been mowing the better part of an hour, he heard the rattle +of a light cart on the road behind him. Supposing that it was his +sister coming back from one of her farms, he kept on with his work. The +cart stopped at the gate and a merry contralto voice called, “Almost +through, Emil?” He dropped his scythe and went toward the fence, wiping +his face and neck with his handkerchief. In the cart sat a young woman +who wore driving gauntlets and a wide shade hat, trimmed with red +poppies. Her face, too, was rather like a poppy, round and brown, with +rich color in her cheeks and lips, and her dancing yellow-brown eyes +bubbled with gayety. The wind was flapping her big hat and teasing a +curl of her chestnut-colored hair. She shook her head at the tall +youth. + +“What time did you get over here? That’s not much of a job for an +athlete. Here I’ve been to town and back. Alexandra lets you sleep +late. Oh, I know! Lou’s wife was telling me about the way she spoils +you. I was going to give you a lift, if you were done.” She gathered up +her reins. + +“But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for me, Marie,” Emil coaxed. +“Alexandra sent me to mow our lot, but I’ve done half a dozen others, +you see. Just wait till I finish off the Kourdnas’. By the way, they +were Bohemians. Why aren’t they up in the Catholic graveyard?” “Free-thinkers,” replied the young woman laconically. -“Lots of the Bohemian boys at the University are,” said Emil, taking -up his scythe again. “What did you ever burn John Huss for, anyway? -It's made an awful row. They still jaw about it in history classes.” +“Lots of the Bohemian boys at the University are,” said Emil, taking up +his scythe again. “What did you ever burn John Huss for, anyway? It’s +made an awful row. They still jaw about it in history classes.” -“We'd do it right over again, most of us,” said the young woman -hotly. “Don't they ever teach you in your history classes that -you'd all be heathen Turks if it hadn't been for the Bohemians?” +“We’d do it right over again, most of us,” said the young woman hotly. +“Don’t they ever teach you in your history classes that you’d all be +heathen Turks if it hadn’t been for the Bohemians?” -Emil had fallen to mowing. “Oh, there's no denying you're a spunky +Emil had fallen to mowing. “Oh, there’s no denying you’re a spunky little bunch, you Czechs,” he called back over his shoulder. Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat and watched the rhythmical -movement of the young man's long arms, swinging her foot as if -in time to some air that was going through her mind. The minutes -passed. Emil mowed vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and -watching the long grass fall. She sat with the ease that belongs -to persons of an essentially happy nature, who can find a comfortable -spot almost anywhere; who are supple, and quick in adapting themselves -to circumstances. After a final swish, Emil snapped the gate and -sprang into the cart, holding his scythe well out over the wheel. -“There,” he sighed. “I gave old man Lee a cut or so, too. Lou's -wife needn't talk. I never see Lou's scythe over here.” - -Marie clucked to her horse. “Oh, you know Annie!” She looked at -the young man's bare arms. “How brown you've got since you came -home. I wish I had an athlete to mow my orchard. I get wet to my -knees when I go down to pick cherries.” - -“You can have one, any time you want him. Better wait until after -it rains.” Emil squinted off at the horizon as if he were looking -for clouds. - -“Will you? Oh, there's a good boy!” She turned her head to him -with a quick, bright smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, -he had looked away with the purpose of not seeing it. “I've been -up looking at Angelique's wedding clothes,” Marie went on, “and -I'm so excited I can hardly wait until Sunday. Amedee will be -a handsome bridegroom. Is anybody but you going to stand up with -him? Well, then it will be a handsome wedding party.” She made a -droll face at Emil, who flushed. “Frank,” Marie continued, flicking -her horse, “is cranky at me because I loaned his saddle to Jan -Smirka, and I'm terribly afraid he won't take me to the dance in -the evening. Maybe the supper will tempt him. All Angelique's -folks are baking for it, and all Amedee's twenty cousins. There -will be barrels of beer. If once I get Frank to the supper, I'll -see that I stay for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you mustn't -dance with me but once or twice. You must dance with all the French -girls. It hurts their feelings if you don't. They think you're -proud because you've been away to school or something.” +movement of the young man’s long arms, swinging her foot as if in time +to some air that was going through her mind. The minutes passed. Emil +mowed vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and watching the long +grass fall. She sat with the ease that belongs to persons of an +essentially happy nature, who can find a comfortable spot almost +anywhere; who are supple, and quick in adapting themselves to +circumstances. After a final swish, Emil snapped the gate and sprang +into the cart, holding his scythe well out over the wheel. “There,” he +sighed. “I gave old man Lee a cut or so, too. Lou’s wife needn’t talk. +I never see Lou’s scythe over here.” + +Marie clucked to her horse. “Oh, you know Annie!” She looked at the +young man’s bare arms. “How brown you’ve got since you came home. I +wish I had an athlete to mow my orchard. I get wet to my knees when I +go down to pick cherries.” + +“You can have one, any time you want him. Better wait until after it +rains.” Emil squinted off at the horizon as if he were looking for +clouds. + +“Will you? Oh, there’s a good boy!” She turned her head to him with a +quick, bright smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, he had +looked away with the purpose of not seeing it. “I’ve been up looking at +Angélique’s wedding clothes,” Marie went on, “and I’m so excited I can +hardly wait until Sunday. Amédée will be a handsome bridegroom. Is +anybody but you going to stand up with him? Well, then it will be a +handsome wedding party.” She made a droll face at Emil, who flushed. +“Frank,” Marie continued, flicking her horse, “is cranky at me because +I loaned his saddle to Jan Smirka, and I’m terribly afraid he won’t +take me to the dance in the evening. Maybe the supper will tempt him. +All Angélique’s folks are baking for it, and all Amédée’s twenty +cousins. There will be barrels of beer. If once I get Frank to the +supper, I’ll see that I stay for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you +mustn’t dance with me but once or twice. You must dance with all the +French girls. It hurts their feelings if you don’t. They think you’re +proud because you’ve been away to school or something.” Emil sniffed. “How do you know they think that?” -“Well, you didn't dance with them much at Raoul Marcel's party, and -I could tell how they took it by the way they looked at you--and -at me.” - -“All right,” said Emil shortly, studying the glittering blade of -his scythe. - -They drove westward toward Norway Creek, and toward a big white -house that stood on a hill, several miles across the fields. There -were so many sheds and outbuildings grouped about it that the -place looked not unlike a tiny village. A stranger, approaching -it, could not help noticing the beauty and fruitfulness of the -outlying fields. There was something individual about the great -farm, a most unusual trimness and care for detail. On either side -of the road, for a mile before you reached the foot of the hill, -stood tall osage orange hedges, their glossy green marking off -the yellow fields. South of the hill, in a low, sheltered swale, -surrounded by a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, its fruit trees -knee-deep in timothy grass. Any one thereabouts would have told -you that this was one of the richest farms on the Divide, and that -the farmer was a woman, Alexandra Bergson. - -If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra's big house, you will -find that it is curiously unfinished and uneven in comfort. One -room is papered, carpeted, over-furnished; the next is almost -bare. The pleasantest rooms in the house are the kitchen--where -Alexandra's three young Swedish girls chatter and cook and pickle -and preserve all summer long--and the sitting-room, in which -Alexandra has brought together the old homely furniture that the -Bergsons used in their first log house, the family portraits, and -the few things her mother brought from Sweden. +“Well, you didn’t dance with them much at Raoul Marcel’s party, and I +could tell how they took it by the way they looked at you—and at me.” + +“All right,” said Emil shortly, studying the glittering blade of his +scythe. + +They drove westward toward Norway Creek, and toward a big white house +that stood on a hill, several miles across the fields. There were so +many sheds and outbuildings grouped about it that the place looked not +unlike a tiny village. A stranger, approaching it, could not help +noticing the beauty and fruitfulness of the outlying fields. There was +something individual about the great farm, a most unusual trimness and +care for detail. On either side of the road, for a mile before you +reached the foot of the hill, stood tall osage orange hedges, their +glossy green marking off the yellow fields. South of the hill, in a +low, sheltered swale, surrounded by a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, +its fruit trees knee-deep in timothy grass. Any one thereabouts would +have told you that this was one of the richest farms on the Divide, and +that the farmer was a woman, Alexandra Bergson. + +If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra’s big house, you will find +that it is curiously unfinished and uneven in comfort. One room is +papered, carpeted, over-furnished; the next is almost bare. The +pleasantest rooms in the house are the kitchen—where Alexandra’s three +young Swedish girls chatter and cook and pickle and preserve all summer +long—and the sitting-room, in which Alexandra has brought together the +old homely furniture that the Bergsons used in their first log house, +the family portraits, and the few things her mother brought from +Sweden. When you go out of the house into the flower garden, there you feel -again the order and fine arrangement manifest all over the great -farm; in the fencing and hedging, in the windbreaks and sheds, in -the symmetrical pasture ponds, planted with scrub willows to give -shade to the cattle in fly-time. There is even a white row of -beehives in the orchard, under the walnut trees. You feel that, -properly, Alexandra's house is the big out-of-doors, and that it -is in the soil that she expresses herself best. +again the order and fine arrangement manifest all over the great farm; +in the fencing and hedging, in the windbreaks and sheds, in the +symmetrical pasture ponds, planted with scrub willows to give shade to +the cattle in fly-time. There is even a white row of beehives in the +orchard, under the walnut trees. You feel that, properly, Alexandra’s +house is the big out-of-doors, and that it is in the soil that she +expresses herself best. II -Emil reached home a little past noon, and when he went into the -kitchen Alexandra was already seated at the head of the long table, -having dinner with her men, as she always did unless there were -visitors. He slipped into his empty place at his sister's right. -The three pretty young Swedish girls who did Alexandra's housework -were cutting pies, refilling coffeecups, placing platters of bread -and meat and potatoes upon the red tablecloth, and continually -getting in each other's way between the table and the stove. To be -sure they always wasted a good deal of time getting in each other's -way and giggling at each other's mistakes. But, as Alexandra had -pointedly told her sisters-in-law, it was to hear them giggle that -she kept three young things in her kitchen; the work she could -do herself, if it were necessary. These girls, with their long -letters from home, their finery, and their love-affairs, afforded -her a great deal of entertainment, and they were company for her -when Emil was away at school. + +Emil reached home a little past noon, and when he went into the kitchen +Alexandra was already seated at the head of the long table, having +dinner with her men, as she always did unless there were visitors. He +slipped into his empty place at his sister’s right. The three pretty +young Swedish girls who did Alexandra’s housework were cutting pies, +refilling coffeecups, placing platters of bread and meat and potatoes +upon the red tablecloth, and continually getting in each other’s way +between the table and the stove. To be sure they always wasted a good +deal of time getting in each other’s way and giggling at each other’s +mistakes. But, as Alexandra had pointedly told her sisters-in-law, it +was to hear them giggle that she kept three young things in her +kitchen; the work she could do herself, if it were necessary. These +girls, with their long letters from home, their finery, and their +love-affairs, afforded her a great deal of entertainment, and they were +company for her when Emil was away at school. Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty figure, mottled pink -cheeks, and yellow hair, Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps -a sharp eye upon her. Signa is apt to be skittish at mealtime, when -the men are about, and to spill the coffee or upset the cream. It -is supposed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six men at the dinner-table, -is courting Signa, though he has been so careful not to commit -himself that no one in the house, least of all Signa, can tell -just how far the matter has progressed. Nelse watches her glumly -as she waits upon the table, and in the evening he sits on a bench -behind the stove with his DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful airs -and watching her as she goes about her work. When Alexandra asked -Signa whether she thought Nelse was in earnest, the poor child hid -her hands under her apron and murmured, “I don't know, ma'm. But -he scolds me about everything, like as if he wanted to have me!” - -At Alexandra's left sat a very old man, barefoot and wearing a long -blue blouse, open at the neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter -than it was sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes have become -pale and watery, and his ruddy face is withered, like an apple that -has clung all winter to the tree. When Ivar lost his land through -mismanagement a dozen years ago, Alexandra took him in, and he has -been a member of her household ever since. He is too old to work -in the fields, but he hitches and unhitches the work-teams and -looks after the health of the stock. Sometimes of a winter evening -Alexandra calls him into the sitting-room to read the Bible aloud -to her, for he still reads very well. He dislikes human habitations, -so Alexandra has fitted him up a room in the barn, where he is very -comfortable, being near the horses and, as he says, further from -temptations. No one has ever found out what his temptations are. -In cold weather he sits by the kitchen fire and makes hammocks -or mends harness until it is time to go to bed. Then he says his -prayers at great length behind the stove, puts on his buffalo-skin -coat and goes out to his room in the barn. - -Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller, -and she has more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous than -she did as a young girl. But she still has the same calmness and -deliberation of manner, the same clear eyes, and she still wears -her hair in two braids wound round her head. It is so curly that -fiery ends escape from the braids and make her head look like one -of the big double sunflowers that fringe her vegetable garden. -Her face is always tanned in summer, for her sunbonnet is oftener -on her arm than on her head. But where her collar falls away from -her neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back from her wrist, the -skin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none but Swedish women -ever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow itself. - -Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged her -men to talk, and she always listened attentively, even when they -seemed to be talking foolishly. +cheeks, and yellow hair, Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps a +sharp eye upon her. Signa is apt to be skittish at mealtime, when the +men are about, and to spill the coffee or upset the cream. It is +supposed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six men at the dinner-table, is +courting Signa, though he has been so careful not to commit himself +that no one in the house, least of all Signa, can tell just how far the +matter has progressed. Nelse watches her glumly as she waits upon the +table, and in the evening he sits on a bench behind the stove with his +DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful airs and watching her as she goes about +her work. When Alexandra asked Signa whether she thought Nelse was in +earnest, the poor child hid her hands under her apron and murmured, “I +don’t know, ma’m. But he scolds me about everything, like as if he +wanted to have me!” + +At Alexandra’s left sat a very old man, barefoot and wearing a long +blue blouse, open at the neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter than +it was sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes have become pale and +watery, and his ruddy face is withered, like an apple that has clung +all winter to the tree. When Ivar lost his land through mismanagement a +dozen years ago, Alexandra took him in, and he has been a member of her +household ever since. He is too old to work in the fields, but he +hitches and unhitches the work-teams and looks after the health of the +stock. Sometimes of a winter evening Alexandra calls him into the +sitting-room to read the Bible aloud to her, for he still reads very +well. He dislikes human habitations, so Alexandra has fitted him up a +room in the barn, where he is very comfortable, being near the horses +and, as he says, further from temptations. No one has ever found out +what his temptations are. In cold weather he sits by the kitchen fire +and makes hammocks or mends harness until it is time to go to bed. Then +he says his prayers at great length behind the stove, puts on his +buffalo-skin coat and goes out to his room in the barn. + +Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller, and +she has more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous than she did as +a young girl. But she still has the same calmness and deliberation of +manner, the same clear eyes, and she still wears her hair in two braids +wound round her head. It is so curly that fiery ends escape from the +braids and make her head look like one of the big double sunflowers +that fringe her vegetable garden. Her face is always tanned in summer, +for her sunbonnet is oftener on her arm than on her head. But where her +collar falls away from her neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back +from her wrist, the skin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none +but Swedish women ever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow +itself. + +Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged her men to +talk, and she always listened attentively, even when they seemed to be +talking foolishly. To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed Irishman who had been with -Alexandra for five years and who was actually her foreman, though -he had no such title, was grumbling about the new silo she had put -up that spring. It happened to be the first silo on the Divide, -and Alexandra's neighbors and her men were skeptical about it. “To -be sure, if the thing don't work, we'll have plenty of feed without -it, indeed,” Barney conceded. - -Nelse Jensen, Signa's gloomy suitor, had his word. “Lou, he says -he wouldn't have no silo on his place if you'd give it to him. -He says the feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard of -somebody lost four head of horses, feedin' 'em that stuff.” - -Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. “Well, -the only way we can find out is to try. Lou and I have different -notions about feeding stock, and that's a good thing. It's bad if -all the members of a family think alike. They never get anywhere. -Lou can learn by my mistakes and I can learn by his. Isn't that -fair, Barney?” +Alexandra for five years and who was actually her foreman, though he +had no such title, was grumbling about the new silo she had put up that +spring. It happened to be the first silo on the Divide, and Alexandra’s +neighbors and her men were skeptical about it. “To be sure, if the +thing don’t work, we’ll have plenty of feed without it, indeed,” Barney +conceded. + +Nelse Jensen, Signa’s gloomy suitor, had his word. “Lou, he says he +wouldn’t have no silo on his place if you’d give it to him. He says the +feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard of somebody lost four +head of horses, feedin’ ’em that stuff.” + +Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. “Well, the only +way we can find out is to try. Lou and I have different notions about +feeding stock, and that’s a good thing. It’s bad if all the members of +a family think alike. They never get anywhere. Lou can learn by my +mistakes and I can learn by his. Isn’t that fair, Barney?” The Irishman laughed. He had no love for Lou, who was always uppish -with him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. “I've -no thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. 'T would be -only right, after puttin' so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will -come out an' have a look at it wid me.” He pushed back his chair, -took his hat from the nail, and marched out with Emil, who, with -his university ideas, was supposed to have instigated the silo. -The other hands followed them, all except old Ivar. He had been -depressed throughout the meal and had paid no heed to the talk of -the men, even when they mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which he -was sure to have opinions. - -“Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?” Alexandra asked as she rose -from the table. “Come into the sitting-room.” - -The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair -he shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him -to speak. He stood looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed, -his hands clasped in front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed to -have grown shorter with years, and they were completely misfitted -to his broad, thick body and heavy shoulders. - -“Well, Ivar, what is it?” Alexandra asked after she had waited -longer than usual. +with him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. “I’ve no +thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. ’T would be only +right, after puttin’ so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will come out +an’ have a look at it wid me.” He pushed back his chair, took his hat +from the nail, and marched out with Emil, who, with his university +ideas, was supposed to have instigated the silo. The other hands +followed them, all except old Ivar. He had been depressed throughout +the meal and had paid no heed to the talk of the men, even when they +mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which he was sure to have opinions. + +“Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?” Alexandra asked as she rose from +the table. “Come into the sitting-room.” + +The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair he +shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him to speak. +He stood looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed, his hands clasped +in front of him. Ivar’s bandy legs seemed to have grown shorter with +years, and they were completely misfitted to his broad, thick body and +heavy shoulders. + +“Well, Ivar, what is it?” Alexandra asked after she had waited longer +than usual. Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaint -and grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He -always addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hoping -to set a good example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too -familiar in their manners. +and grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He always +addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hoping to set a +good example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too familiar in +their manners. -“Mistress,” he began faintly, without raising his eyes, “the folk -have been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been -talk.” +“Mistress,” he began faintly, without raising his eyes, “the folk have +been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been talk.” “Talk about what, Ivar?” “About sending me away; to the asylum.” -Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. “Nobody has come to me with -such talk,” she said decidedly. “Why need you listen? You know -I would never consent to such a thing.” +Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. “Nobody has come to me with such +talk,” she said decidedly. “Why need you listen? You know I would never +consent to such a thing.” -Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little -eyes. “They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain of -me, if your brothers complain to the authorities. They say that -your brothers are afraid--God forbid!--that I may do you some -injury when my spells are on me. Mistress, how can any one think -that?--that I could bite the hand that fed me!” The tears trickled -down on the old man's beard. +Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little eyes. +“They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain of me, if +your brothers complain to the authorities. They say that your brothers +are afraid—God forbid!—that I may do you some injury when my spells are +on me. Mistress, how can any one think that?—that I could bite the hand +that fed me!” The tears trickled down on the old man’s beard. Alexandra frowned. “Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should come -bothering me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, -and other people have nothing to do with either you or me. So long -as I am suited with you, there is nothing to be said.” +bothering me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, and +other people have nothing to do with either you or me. So long as I am +suited with you, there is nothing to be said.” Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse and -wiped his eyes and beard. “But I should not wish you to keep me -if, as they say, it is against your interests, and if it is hard -for you to get hands because I am here.” - -Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his -hand and went on earnestly:-- - -“Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things -into account. You know that my spells come from God, and that -I would not harm any living creature. You believe that every one -should worship God in the way revealed to him. But that is not -the way of this country. The way here is for all to do alike. I -am despised because I do not wear shoes, because I do not cut my -hair, and because I have visions. At home, in the old country, -there were many like me, who had been touched by God, or who had -seen things in the graveyard at night and were different afterward. -We thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But here, if a man -is different in his feet or in his head, they put him in the asylum. -Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out of a creek, -he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could eat only -such food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything else, it -became enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about in -him, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. +wiped his eyes and beard. “But I should not wish you to keep me if, as +they say, it is against your interests, and if it is hard for you to +get hands because I am here.” + +Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his hand +and went on earnestly:— + +“Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things into +account. You know that my spells come from God, and that I would not +harm any living creature. You believe that every one should worship God +in the way revealed to him. But that is not the way of this country. +The way here is for all to do alike. I am despised because I do not +wear shoes, because I do not cut my hair, and because I have visions. +At home, in the old country, there were many like me, who had been +touched by God, or who had seen things in the graveyard at night and +were different afterward. We thought nothing of it, and let them alone. +But here, if a man is different in his feet or in his head, they put +him in the asylum. Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking +out of a creek, he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could +eat only such food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything +else, it became enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about +in him, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. He could work as good as any man, and his head was clear, but they -locked him up for being different in his stomach. That is the way; -they have built the asylum for people who are different, and they -will not even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Only -your great prosperity has protected me so far. If you had had -ill-fortune, they would have taken me to Hastings long ago.” - -As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she -could often break his fasts and long penances by talking to him -and letting him pour out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy -always cleared his mind, and ridicule was poison to him. - -“There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not they -will be wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; -and then I may take you with me. But at present I need you here. -Only don't come to me again telling me what people say. Let people -go on talking as they like, and we will go on living as we think -best. You have been with me now for twelve years, and I have gone -to you for advice oftener than I have ever gone to any one. That -ought to satisfy you.” - -Ivar bowed humbly. “Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with -their talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes -all these years, though you have never questioned me; washing them -every night, even in winter.” +locked him up for being different in his stomach. That is the way; they +have built the asylum for people who are different, and they will not +even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Only your great +prosperity has protected me so far. If you had had ill-fortune, they +would have taken me to Hastings long ago.” + +As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she could +often break his fasts and long penances by talking to him and letting +him pour out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy always cleared +his mind, and ridicule was poison to him. + +“There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not they will be +wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; and then I +may take you with me. But at present I need you here. Only don’t come +to me again telling me what people say. Let people go on talking as +they like, and we will go on living as we think best. You have been +with me now for twelve years, and I have gone to you for advice oftener +than I have ever gone to any one. That ought to satisfy you.” + +Ivar bowed humbly. “Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with their +talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes all these +years, though you have never questioned me; washing them every night, +even in winter.” Alexandra laughed. “Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We can -remember when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expect -old Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if -she dared. I'm glad I'm not Lou's mother-in-law.” +remember when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expect old +Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if she dared. +I’m glad I’m not Lou’s mother-in-law.” Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to a -whisper. “You know what they have over at Lou's house? A great -white tub, like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash -themselves in. When you sent me over with the strawberries, they -were all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. She took me -in and showed me the thing, and she told me it was impossible to -wash yourself clean in it, because, in so much water, you could -not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up and send her in -there, she pretends, and makes a splashing noise. Then, when they -are all asleep, she washes herself in a little wooden tub she keeps -under her bed.” +whisper. “You know what they have over at Lou’s house? A great white +tub, like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash +themselves in. When you sent me over with the strawberries, they were +all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. She took me in and +showed me the thing, and she told me it was impossible to wash yourself +clean in it, because, in so much water, you could not make a strong +suds. So when they fill it up and send her in there, she pretends, and +makes a splashing noise. Then, when they are all asleep, she washes +herself in a little wooden tub she keeps under her bed.” -Alexandra shook with laughter. “Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won't let -her wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit -me, she can do all the old things in the old way, and have as much -beer as she wants. We'll start an asylum for old-time people, -Ivar.” +Alexandra shook with laughter. “Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won’t let her +wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit me, she can +do all the old things in the old way, and have as much beer as she +wants. We’ll start an asylum for old-time people, Ivar.” -Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into -his blouse. “This is always the way, mistress. I come to you -sorrowing, and you send me away with a light heart. And will you -be so good as to tell the Irishman that he is not to work the brown -gelding until the sore on its shoulder is healed?” +Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into his +blouse. “This is always the way, mistress. I come to you sorrowing, and +you send me away with a light heart. And will you be so good as to tell +the Irishman that he is not to work the brown gelding until the sore on +its shoulder is healed?” -“That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare to the cart. I am going -to drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is -to buy my alfalfa hay.” +“That I will. Now go and put Emil’s mare to the cart. I am going to +drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is to buy +my alfalfa hay.” III -Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar's case, however. On Sunday her -married brothers came to dinner. She had asked them for that day -because Emil, who hated family parties, would be absent, dancing -at Amedee Chevalier's wedding, up in the French country. The table -was set for company in the dining-room, where highly varnished -wood and colored glass and useless pieces of china were conspicuous -enough to satisfy the standards of the new prosperity. Alexandra -had put herself into the hands of the Hanover furniture dealer, and -he had conscientiously done his best to make her dining-room look -like his display window. She said frankly that she knew nothing -about such things, and she was willing to be governed by the general -conviction that the more useless and utterly unusable objects -were, the greater their virtue as ornament. That seemed reasonable -enough. Since she liked plain things herself, it was all the more -necessary to have jars and punchbowls and candlesticks in the company -rooms for people who did appreciate them. Her guests liked to see -about them these reassuring emblems of prosperity. - -The family party was complete except for Emil, and Oscar's wife -who, in the country phrase, “was not going anywhere just now.” - Oscar sat at the foot of the table and his four tow-headed little -boys, aged from twelve to five, were ranged at one side. Neither -Oscar nor Lou has changed much; they have simply, as Alexandra said -of them long ago, grown to be more and more like themselves. Lou -now looks the older of the two; his face is thin and shrewd and -wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar's is thick and dull. For all -his dullness, however, Oscar makes more money than his brother, -which adds to Lou's sharpness and uneasiness and tempts him to -make a show. The trouble with Lou is that he is tricky, and his -neighbors have found out that, as Ivar says, he has not a fox's face -for nothing. Politics being the natural field for such talents, -he neglects his farm to attend conventions and to run for county -offices. - -Lou's wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to look curiously like -her husband. Her face has become longer, sharper, more aggressive. -She wears her yellow hair in a high pompadour, and is bedecked with -rings and chains and “beauty pins.” Her tight, high-heeled shoes -give her an awkward walk, and she is always more or less preoccupied -with her clothes. As she sat at the table, she kept telling her -youngest daughter to “be careful now, and not drop anything on -mother.” - -The conversation at the table was all in English. Oscar's wife, -from the malaria district of Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a -foreigner, and his boys do not understand a word of Swedish. Annie -and Lou sometimes speak Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as -much afraid of being “caught” at it as ever her mother was of being -caught barefoot. Oscar still has a thick accent, but Lou speaks -like anybody from Iowa. - -“When I was in Hastings to attend the convention,” he was saying, -“I saw the superintendent of the asylum, and I was telling him about -Ivar's symptoms. He says Ivar's case is one of the most dangerous -kind, and it's a wonder he hasn't done something violent before -this.” -Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. “Oh, nonsense, Lou! The doctors -would have us all crazy if they could. Ivar's queer, certainly, -but he has more sense than half the hands I hire.” +Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar’s case, however. On Sunday her +married brothers came to dinner. She had asked them for that day +because Emil, who hated family parties, would be absent, dancing at +Amédée Chevalier’s wedding, up in the French country. The table was set +for company in the dining-room, where highly varnished wood and colored +glass and useless pieces of china were conspicuous enough to satisfy +the standards of the new prosperity. Alexandra had put herself into the +hands of the Hanover furniture dealer, and he had conscientiously done +his best to make her dining-room look like his display window. She said +frankly that she knew nothing about such things, and she was willing to +be governed by the general conviction that the more useless and utterly +unusable objects were, the greater their virtue as ornament. That +seemed reasonable enough. Since she liked plain things herself, it was +all the more necessary to have jars and punchbowls and candlesticks in +the company rooms for people who did appreciate them. Her guests liked +to see about them these reassuring emblems of prosperity. + +The family party was complete except for Emil, and Oscar’s wife who, in +the country phrase, “was not going anywhere just now.” Oscar sat at the +foot of the table and his four tow-headed little boys, aged from twelve +to five, were ranged at one side. Neither Oscar nor Lou has changed +much; they have simply, as Alexandra said of them long ago, grown to be +more and more like themselves. Lou now looks the older of the two; his +face is thin and shrewd and wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar’s is +thick and dull. For all his dullness, however, Oscar makes more money +than his brother, which adds to Lou’s sharpness and uneasiness and +tempts him to make a show. The trouble with Lou is that he is tricky, +and his neighbors have found out that, as Ivar says, he has not a fox’s +face for nothing. Politics being the natural field for such talents, he +neglects his farm to attend conventions and to run for county offices. + +Lou’s wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to look curiously like her +husband. Her face has become longer, sharper, more aggressive. She +wears her yellow hair in a high pompadour, and is bedecked with rings +and chains and “beauty pins.” Her tight, high-heeled shoes give her an +awkward walk, and she is always more or less preoccupied with her +clothes. As she sat at the table, she kept telling her youngest +daughter to “be careful now, and not drop anything on mother.” + +The conversation at the table was all in English. Oscar’s wife, from +the malaria district of Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a foreigner, +and his boys do not understand a word of Swedish. Annie and Lou +sometimes speak Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as much afraid of +being “caught” at it as ever her mother was of being caught barefoot. +Oscar still has a thick accent, but Lou speaks like anybody from Iowa. + +“When I was in Hastings to attend the convention,” he was saying, “I +saw the superintendent of the asylum, and I was telling him about +Ivar’s symptoms. He says Ivar’s case is one of the most dangerous kind, +and it’s a wonder he hasn’t done something violent before this.” + +Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. “Oh, nonsense, Lou! The doctors would +have us all crazy if they could. Ivar’s queer, certainly, but he has +more sense than half the hands I hire.” Lou flew at his fried chicken. “Oh, I guess the doctor knows his -business, Alexandra. He was very much surprised when I told him -how you'd put up with Ivar. He says he's likely to set fire to the -barn any night, or to take after you and the girls with an axe.” - -Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, giggled and fled to -the kitchen. Alexandra's eyes twinkled. “That was too much for -Signa, Lou. We all know that Ivar's perfectly harmless. The girls -would as soon expect me to chase them with an axe.” - -Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. “All the same, the neighbors -will be having a say about it before long. He may burn anybody's -barn. It's only necessary for one property-owner in the township -to make complaint, and he'll be taken up by force. You'd better -send him yourself and not have any hard feelings.” - -Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to gravy. “Well, Lou, -if any of the neighbors try that, I'll have myself appointed Ivar's -guardian and take the case to court, that's all. I am perfectly -satisfied with him.” +business, Alexandra. He was very much surprised when I told him how +you’d put up with Ivar. He says he’s likely to set fire to the barn any +night, or to take after you and the girls with an axe.” + +Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, giggled and fled to the +kitchen. Alexandra’s eyes twinkled. “That was too much for Signa, Lou. +We all know that Ivar’s perfectly harmless. The girls would as soon +expect me to chase them with an axe.” + +Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. “All the same, the neighbors will +be having a say about it before long. He may burn anybody’s barn. It’s +only necessary for one property-owner in the township to make +complaint, and he’ll be taken up by force. You’d better send him +yourself and not have any hard feelings.” + +Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to gravy. “Well, Lou, if any +of the neighbors try that, I’ll have myself appointed Ivar’s guardian +and take the case to court, that’s all. I am perfectly satisfied with +him.” “Pass the preserves, Lou,” said Annie in a warning tone. She had -reasons for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. -“But don't you sort of hate to have people see him around here, -Alexandra?” she went on with persuasive smoothness. “He IS a -disgraceful object, and you're fixed up so nice now. It sort of -makes people distant with you, when they never know when they'll -hear him scratching about. My girls are afraid as death of him, -aren't you, Milly, dear?” +reasons for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. “But +don’t you sort of hate to have people see him around here, Alexandra?” +she went on with persuasive smoothness. “He IS a disgraceful object, +and you’re fixed up so nice now. It sort of makes people distant with +you, when they never know when they’ll hear him scratching about. My +girls are afraid as death of him, aren’t you, Milly, dear?” Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompadoured, with a creamy -complexion, square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She -looked like her grandmother Bergson, and had her comfortable and -comfort-loving nature. She grinned at her aunt, with whom she was -a great deal more at ease than she was with her mother. Alexandra -winked a reply. - -“Milly needn't be afraid of Ivar. She's an especial favorite of -his. In my opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of -dressing and thinking as we have. But I'll see that he doesn't -bother other people. I'll keep him at home, so don't trouble any -more about him, Lou. I've been wanting to ask you about your new -bathtub. How does it work?” - -Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. “Oh, -it works something grand! I can't keep him out of it. He washes -himself all over three times a week now, and uses all the hot water. -I think it's weakening to stay in as long as he does. You ought -to have one, Alexandra.” - -“I'm thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar, -if it will ease people's minds. But before I get a bathtub, I'm -going to get a piano for Milly.” - -Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. “What -does Milly want of a pianny? What's the matter with her organ? -She can make some use of that, and play in church.” - -Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say -anything about this plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous -of what his sister did for Lou's children. Alexandra did not get -on with Oscar's wife at all. “Milly can play in church just the -same, and she'll still play on the organ. But practising on it -so much spoils her touch. Her teacher says so,” Annie brought out -with spirit. - -Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, Milly must have got on pretty good -if she's got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that -ain't,” he said bluntly. - -Annie threw up her chin. “She has got on good, and she's going to -play for her commencement when she graduates in town next year.” - -“Yes,” said Alexandra firmly, “I think Milly deserves a piano. -All the girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but -Milly is the only one of them who can ever play anything when you -ask her. I'll tell you when I first thought I would like to give -you a piano, Milly, and that was when you learned that book of old -Swedish songs that your grandfather used to sing. He had a sweet -tenor voice, and when he was a young man he loved to sing. I can -remember hearing him singing with the sailors down in the shipyard, -when I was no bigger than Stella here,” pointing to Annie's younger -daughter. +complexion, square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She looked like +her grandmother Bergson, and had her comfortable and comfort-loving +nature. She grinned at her aunt, with whom she was a great deal more at +ease than she was with her mother. Alexandra winked a reply. + +“Milly needn’t be afraid of Ivar. She’s an especial favorite of his. In +my opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of dressing and +thinking as we have. But I’ll see that he doesn’t bother other people. +I’ll keep him at home, so don’t trouble any more about him, Lou. I’ve +been wanting to ask you about your new bathtub. How does it work?” + +Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. “Oh, it +works something grand! I can’t keep him out of it. He washes himself +all over three times a week now, and uses all the hot water. I think +it’s weakening to stay in as long as he does. You ought to have one, +Alexandra.” + +“I’m thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar, if it +will ease people’s minds. But before I get a bathtub, I’m going to get +a piano for Milly.” + +Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. “What does +Milly want of a pianny? What’s the matter with her organ? She can make +some use of that, and play in church.” + +Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say anything +about this plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous of what his +sister did for Lou’s children. Alexandra did not get on with Oscar’s +wife at all. “Milly can play in church just the same, and she’ll still +play on the organ. But practising on it so much spoils her touch. Her +teacher says so,” Annie brought out with spirit. + +Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, Milly must have got on pretty good if +she’s got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that ain’t,” he +said bluntly. + +Annie threw up her chin. “She has got on good, and she’s going to play +for her commencement when she graduates in town next year.” + +“Yes,” said Alexandra firmly, “I think Milly deserves a piano. All the +girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but Milly is the +only one of them who can ever play anything when you ask her. I’ll tell +you when I first thought I would like to give you a piano, Milly, and +that was when you learned that book of old Swedish songs that your +grandfather used to sing. He had a sweet tenor voice, and when he was a +young man he loved to sing. I can remember hearing him singing with the +sailors down in the shipyard, when I was no bigger than Stella here,” +pointing to Annie’s younger daughter. Milly and Stella both looked through the door into the sitting-room, -where a crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra -had had it made from a little photograph, taken for his friends -just before he left Sweden; a slender man of thirty-five, with -soft hair curling about his high forehead, a drooping mustache, -and wondering, sad eyes that looked forward into the distance, as -if they already beheld the New World. - -After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the orchard to pick cherries--they +where a crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra had +had it made from a little photograph, taken for his friends just before +he left Sweden; a slender man of thirty-five, with soft hair curling +about his high forehead, a drooping mustache, and wondering, sad eyes +that looked forward into the distance, as if they already beheld the +New World. + +After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the orchard to pick cherries—they had neither of them had the patience to grow an orchard of their -own--and Annie went down to gossip with Alexandra's kitchen girls -while they washed the dishes. She could always find out more about -Alexandra's domestic economy from the prattling maids than from +own—and Annie went down to gossip with Alexandra’s kitchen girls while +they washed the dishes. She could always find out more about +Alexandra’s domestic economy from the prattling maids than from Alexandra herself, and what she discovered she used to her own -advantage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers' daughters no longer -went out into service, so Alexandra got her girls from Sweden, by -paying their fare over. They stayed with her until they married, -and were replaced by sisters or cousins from the old country. - -Alexandra took her three nieces into the flower garden. She was -fond of the little girls, especially of Milly, who came to spend -a week with her aunt now and then, and read aloud to her from the -old books about the house, or listened to stories about the early -days on the Divide. While they were walking among the flower beds, -a buggy drove up the hill and stopped in front of the gate. A man -got out and stood talking to the driver. The little girls were -delighted at the advent of a stranger, some one from very far away, -they knew by his clothes, his gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut -of his dark beard. The girls fell behind their aunt and peeped out -at him from among the castor beans. The stranger came up to the -gate and stood holding his hat in his hand, smiling, while Alexandra -advanced slowly to meet him. As she approached he spoke in a low, -pleasant voice. - -“Don't you know me, Alexandra? I would have known you, anywhere.” - -Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. Suddenly she took a quick -step forward. “Can it be!” she exclaimed with feeling; “can it be -that it is Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!” She threw out both -her hands and caught his across the gate. “Sadie, Milly, run tell -your father and Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl Linstrum is -here. Be quick! Why, Carl, how did it happen? I can't believe -this!” Alexandra shook the tears from her eyes and laughed. - -The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped his suitcase inside -the fence, and opened the gate. “Then you are glad to see me, and -you can put me up overnight? I couldn't go through this country -without stopping off to have a look at you. How little you have -changed! Do you know, I was sure it would be like that. You -simply couldn't be different. How fine you are!” He stepped back -and looked at her admiringly. - -Alexandra blushed and laughed again. “But you yourself, Carl--with -that beard--how could I have known you? You went away a little -boy.” She reached for his suitcase and when he intercepted her -she threw up her hands. “You see, I give myself away. I have only -women come to visit me, and I do not know how to behave. Where is -your trunk?” - -“It's in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. I am on my way to -the coast.” +advantage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers’ daughters no longer went +out into service, so Alexandra got her girls from Sweden, by paying +their fare over. They stayed with her until they married, and were +replaced by sisters or cousins from the old country. + +Alexandra took her three nieces into the flower garden. She was fond of +the little girls, especially of Milly, who came to spend a week with +her aunt now and then, and read aloud to her from the old books about +the house, or listened to stories about the early days on the Divide. +While they were walking among the flower beds, a buggy drove up the +hill and stopped in front of the gate. A man got out and stood talking +to the driver. The little girls were delighted at the advent of a +stranger, some one from very far away, they knew by his clothes, his +gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut of his dark beard. The girls fell +behind their aunt and peeped out at him from among the castor beans. +The stranger came up to the gate and stood holding his hat in his hand, +smiling, while Alexandra advanced slowly to meet him. As she approached +he spoke in a low, pleasant voice. + +“Don’t you know me, Alexandra? I would have known you, anywhere.” + +Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. Suddenly she took a quick step +forward. “Can it be!” she exclaimed with feeling; “can it be that it is +Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!” She threw out both her hands and +caught his across the gate. “Sadie, Milly, run tell your father and +Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl Linstrum is here. Be quick! Why, +Carl, how did it happen? I can’t believe this!” Alexandra shook the +tears from her eyes and laughed. + +The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped his suitcase inside the +fence, and opened the gate. “Then you are glad to see me, and you can +put me up overnight? I couldn’t go through this country without +stopping off to have a look at you. How little you have changed! Do you +know, I was sure it would be like that. You simply couldn’t be +different. How fine you are!” He stepped back and looked at her +admiringly. + +Alexandra blushed and laughed again. “But you yourself, Carl—with that +beard—how could I have known you? You went away a little boy.” She +reached for his suitcase and when he intercepted her she threw up her +hands. “You see, I give myself away. I have only women come to visit +me, and I do not know how to behave. Where is your trunk?” + +“It’s in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. I am on my way to the +coast.” They started up the path. “A few days? After all these years!” - Alexandra shook her finger at him. “See this, you have walked -into a trap. You do not get away so easy.” She put her hand -affectionately on his shoulder. “You owe me a visit for the sake -of old times. Why must you go to the coast at all?” +Alexandra shook her finger at him. “See this, you have walked into a +trap. You do not get away so easy.” She put her hand affectionately on +his shoulder. “You owe me a visit for the sake of old times. Why must +you go to the coast at all?” -“Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From Seattle I go on to -Alaska.” +“Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From Seattle I go on to Alaska.” -“Alaska?” She looked at him in astonishment. “Are you going to -paint the Indians?” +“Alaska?” She looked at him in astonishment. “Are you going to paint +the Indians?” -“Paint?” the young man frowned. “Oh! I'm not a painter, Alexandra. -I'm an engraver. I have nothing to do with painting.” +“Paint?” the young man frowned. “Oh! I’m not a painter, Alexandra. I’m +an engraver. I have nothing to do with painting.” -“But on my parlor wall I have the paintings--” +“But on my parlor wall I have the paintings—” -He interrupted nervously. “Oh, water-color sketches--done for -amusement. I sent them to remind you of me, not because they were -good. What a wonderful place you have made of this, Alexandra.” - He turned and looked back at the wide, map-like prospect of field -and hedge and pasture. “I would never have believed it could be -done. I'm disappointed in my own eye, in my imagination.” +He interrupted nervously. “Oh, water-color sketches—done for amusement. +I sent them to remind you of me, not because they were good. What a +wonderful place you have made of this, Alexandra.” He turned and looked +back at the wide, map-like prospect of field and hedge and pasture. “I +would never have believed it could be done. I’m disappointed in my own +eye, in my imagination.” -At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the hill from the orchard. -They did not quicken their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they -did not openly look in his direction. They advanced distrustfully, -and as if they wished the distance were longer. +At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the hill from the orchard. They +did not quicken their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they did not +openly look in his direction. They advanced distrustfully, and as if +they wished the distance were longer. -Alexandra beckoned to them. “They think I am trying to fool them. -Come, boys, it's Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!” +Alexandra beckoned to them. “They think I am trying to fool them. Come, +boys, it’s Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!” -Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance and thrust out his -hand. “Glad to see you.” +Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance and thrust out his hand. +“Glad to see you.” -Oscar followed with “How d' do.” Carl could not tell whether their +Oscar followed with “How d’ do.” Carl could not tell whether their offishness came from unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and Alexandra led the way to the porch. -“Carl,” Alexandra explained, “is on his way to Seattle. He is -going to Alaska.” +“Carl,” Alexandra explained, “is on his way to Seattle. He is going to +Alaska.” -Oscar studied the visitor's yellow shoes. “Got business there?” - he asked. +Oscar studied the visitor’s yellow shoes. “Got business there?” he +asked. -Carl laughed. “Yes, very pressing business. I'm going there to -get rich. Engraving's a very interesting profession, but a man -never makes any money at it. So I'm going to try the goldfields.” +Carl laughed. “Yes, very pressing business. I’m going there to get +rich. Engraving’s a very interesting profession, but a man never makes +any money at it. So I’m going to try the goldfields.” -Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, and Lou looked up -with some interest. “Ever done anything in that line before?” +Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, and Lou looked up with +some interest. “Ever done anything in that line before?” -“No, but I'm going to join a friend of mine who went out from New -York and has done well. He has offered to break me in.” +“No, but I’m going to join a friend of mine who went out from New York +and has done well. He has offered to break me in.” “Turrible cold winters, there, I hear,” remarked Oscar. “I thought people went up there in the spring.” -“They do. But my friend is going to spend the winter in Seattle and -I am to stay with him there and learn something about prospecting -before we start north next year.” +“They do. But my friend is going to spend the winter in Seattle and I +am to stay with him there and learn something about prospecting before +we start north next year.” -Lou looked skeptical. “Let's see, how long have you been away from +Lou looked skeptical. “Let’s see, how long have you been away from here?” -“Sixteen years. You ought to remember that, Lou, for you were -married just after we went away.” +“Sixteen years. You ought to remember that, Lou, for you were married +just after we went away.” “Going to stay with us some time?” Oscar asked. “A few days, if Alexandra can keep me.” -“I expect you'll be wanting to see your old place,” Lou observed -more cordially. “You won't hardly know it. But there's a few -chunks of your old sod house left. Alexandra wouldn't never let -Frank Shabata plough over it.” - -Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was announced, had been -touching up her hair and settling her lace and wishing she had worn -another dress, now emerged with her three daughters and introduced -them. She was greatly impressed by Carl's urban appearance, and -in her excitement talked very loud and threw her head about. “And -you ain't married yet? At your age, now! Think of that! You'll -have to wait for Milly. Yes, we've got a boy, too. The youngest. -He's at home with his grandma. You must come over to see mother -and hear Milly play. She's the musician of the family. She does -pyrography, too. That's burnt wood, you know. You wouldn't believe -what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes to school in town, -and she is the youngest in her class by two years.” - -Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took her hand again. He liked -her creamy skin and happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her -mother's way of talking distressed her. “I'm sure she's a clever -little girl,” he murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. “Let me -see--Ah, it's your mother that she looks like, Alexandra. Mrs. -Bergson must have looked just like this when she was a little -girl. Does Milly run about over the country as you and Alexandra -used to, Annie?” - -Milly's mother protested. “Oh, my, no! Things has changed since -we was girls. Milly has it very different. We are going to rent -the place and move into town as soon as the girls are old enough -to go out into company. A good many are doing that here now. Lou -is going into business.” - -Lou grinned. “That's what she says. You better go get your things -on. Ivar's hitching up,” he added, turning to Annie. - -Young farmers seldom address their wives by name. It is always -“you,” or “she.” - -Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat down on the step and -began to whittle. “Well, what do folks in New York think of William -Jennings Bryan?” Lou began to bluster, as he always did when he -talked politics. “We gave Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all -right, and we're fixing another to hand them. Silver wasn't the -only issue,” he nodded mysteriously. “There's a good many things -got to be changed. The West is going to make itself heard.” +“I expect you’ll be wanting to see your old place,” Lou observed more +cordially. “You won’t hardly know it. But there’s a few chunks of your +old sod house left. Alexandra wouldn’t never let Frank Shabata plough +over it.” + +Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was announced, had been touching +up her hair and settling her lace and wishing she had worn another +dress, now emerged with her three daughters and introduced them. She +was greatly impressed by Carl’s urban appearance, and in her excitement +talked very loud and threw her head about. “And you ain’t married yet? +At your age, now! Think of that! You’ll have to wait for Milly. Yes, +we’ve got a boy, too. The youngest. He’s at home with his grandma. You +must come over to see mother and hear Milly play. She’s the musician of +the family. She does pyrography, too. That’s burnt wood, you know. You +wouldn’t believe what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes to +school in town, and she is the youngest in her class by two years.” + +Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took her hand again. He liked her +creamy skin and happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her +mother’s way of talking distressed her. “I’m sure she’s a clever little +girl,” he murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. “Let me see—Ah, it’s +your mother that she looks like, Alexandra. Mrs. Bergson must have +looked just like this when she was a little girl. Does Milly run about +over the country as you and Alexandra used to, Annie?” + +Milly’s mother protested. “Oh, my, no! Things has changed since we was +girls. Milly has it very different. We are going to rent the place and +move into town as soon as the girls are old enough to go out into +company. A good many are doing that here now. Lou is going into +business.” + +Lou grinned. “That’s what she says. You better go get your things on. +Ivar’s hitching up,” he added, turning to Annie. + +Young farmers seldom address their wives by name. It is always “you,” +or “she.” + +Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat down on the step and began +to whittle. “Well, what do folks in New York think of William Jennings +Bryan?” Lou began to bluster, as he always did when he talked politics. +“We gave Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all right, and we’re fixing +another to hand them. Silver wasn’t the only issue,” he nodded +mysteriously. “There’s a good many things got to be changed. The West +is going to make itself heard.” Carl laughed. “But, surely, it did do that, if nothing else.” -Lou's thin face reddened up to the roots of his bristly hair. “Oh, -we've only begun. We're waking up to a sense of our responsibilities, -out here, and we ain't afraid, neither. You fellows back there -must be a tame lot. If you had any nerve you'd get together and -march down to Wall Street and blow it up. Dynamite it, I mean,” - with a threatening nod. - -He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely knew how to answer -him. “That would be a waste of powder. The same business would -go on in another street. The street doesn't matter. But what have -you fellows out here got to kick about? You have the only safe -place there is. Morgan himself couldn't touch you. One only has -to drive through this country to see that you're all as rich as -barons.” - -“We have a good deal more to say than we had when we were poor,” - said Lou threateningly. “We're getting on to a whole lot of things.” - -As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the gate, Annie came out in -a hat that looked like the model of a battleship. Carl rose and -took her down to the carriage, while Lou lingered for a word with -his sister. +Lou’s thin face reddened up to the roots of his bristly hair. “Oh, +we’ve only begun. We’re waking up to a sense of our responsibilities, +out here, and we ain’t afraid, neither. You fellows back there must be +a tame lot. If you had any nerve you’d get together and march down to +Wall Street and blow it up. Dynamite it, I mean,” with a threatening +nod. -“What do you suppose he's come for?” he asked, jerking his head -toward the gate. +He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely knew how to answer him. +“That would be a waste of powder. The same business would go on in +another street. The street doesn’t matter. But what have you fellows +out here got to kick about? You have the only safe place there is. +Morgan himself couldn’t touch you. One only has to drive through this +country to see that you’re all as rich as barons.” -“Why, to pay us a visit. I've been begging him to for years.” +“We have a good deal more to say than we had when we were poor,” said +Lou threateningly. “We’re getting on to a whole lot of things.” -Oscar looked at Alexandra. “He didn't let you know he was coming?” +As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the gate, Annie came out in a hat +that looked like the model of a battleship. Carl rose and took her down +to the carriage, while Lou lingered for a word with his sister. + +“What do you suppose he’s come for?” he asked, jerking his head toward +the gate. + +“Why, to pay us a visit. I’ve been begging him to for years.” + +Oscar looked at Alexandra. “He didn’t let you know he was coming?” “No. Why should he? I told him to come at any time.” -Lou shrugged his shoulders. “He doesn't seem to have done much -for himself. Wandering around this way!” +Lou shrugged his shoulders. “He doesn’t seem to have done much for +himself. Wandering around this way!” -Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of a cavern. “He never -was much account.” +Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of a cavern. “He never was +much account.” Alexandra left them and hurried down to the gate where Annie was -rattling on to Carl about her new dining-room furniture. “You -must bring Mr. Linstrum over real soon, only be sure to telephone -me first,” she called back, as Carl helped her into the carriage. -Old Ivar, his white head bare, stood holding the horses. Lou came -down the path and climbed into the front seat, took up the reins, -and drove off without saying anything further to any one. Oscar -picked up his youngest boy and trudged off down the road, the other -three trotting after him. Carl, holding the gate open for Alexandra, -began to laugh. “Up and coming on the Divide, eh, Alexandra?” he -cried gayly. +rattling on to Carl about her new dining-room furniture. “You must +bring Mr. Linstrum over real soon, only be sure to telephone me first,” +she called back, as Carl helped her into the carriage. Old Ivar, his +white head bare, stood holding the horses. Lou came down the path and +climbed into the front seat, took up the reins, and drove off without +saying anything further to any one. Oscar picked up his youngest boy +and trudged off down the road, the other three trotting after him. +Carl, holding the gate open for Alexandra, began to laugh. “Up and +coming on the Divide, eh, Alexandra?” he cried gayly. IV + Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less than one might have -expected. He had not become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There -was still something homely and wayward and definitely personal -about him. Even his clothes, his Norfolk coat and his very high -collars, were a little unconventional. He seemed to shrink into -himself as he used to do; to hold himself away from things, as if -he were afraid of being hurt. In short, he was more self-conscious -than a man of thirty-five is expected to be. He looked older than -his years and not very strong. His black hair, which still hung -in a triangle over his pale forehead, was thin at the crown, and -there were fine, relentless lines about his eyes. His back, with -its high, sharp shoulders, looked like the back of an over-worked -German professor off on his holiday. His face was intelligent, -sensitive, unhappy. - -That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the -clump of castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The -gravel paths glittered in the moonlight, and below them the fields -lay white and still. - -“Do you know, Alexandra,” he was saying, “I've been thinking how -strangely things work out. I've been away engraving other men's -pictures, and you've stayed at home and made your own.” He pointed -with his cigar toward the sleeping landscape. “How in the world -have you done it? How have your neighbors done it?” - -“We hadn't any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. -It had its little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody -knew how to work it right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. -It woke up out of its sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, -so rich, that we suddenly found we were rich, just from sitting -still. As for me, you remember when I began to buy land. For -years after that I was always squeezing and borrowing until I was -ashamed to show my face in the banks. And then, all at once, men -began to come to me offering to lend me money--and I didn't need -it! Then I went ahead and built this house. I really built it -for Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so different from -the rest of us!” +expected. He had not become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There was +still something homely and wayward and definitely personal about him. +Even his clothes, his Norfolk coat and his very high collars, were a +little unconventional. He seemed to shrink into himself as he used to +do; to hold himself away from things, as if he were afraid of being +hurt. In short, he was more self-conscious than a man of thirty-five is +expected to be. He looked older than his years and not very strong. His +black hair, which still hung in a triangle over his pale forehead, was +thin at the crown, and there were fine, relentless lines about his +eyes. His back, with its high, sharp shoulders, looked like the back of +an over-worked German professor off on his holiday. His face was +intelligent, sensitive, unhappy. + +That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the clump +of castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The gravel paths +glittered in the moonlight, and below them the fields lay white and +still. + +“Do you know, Alexandra,” he was saying, “I’ve been thinking how +strangely things work out. I’ve been away engraving other men’s +pictures, and you’ve stayed at home and made your own.” He pointed with +his cigar toward the sleeping landscape. “How in the world have you +done it? How have your neighbors done it?” + +“We hadn’t any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. It had +its little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody knew how to +work it right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. It woke up out +of its sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, so rich, that we +suddenly found we were rich, just from sitting still. As for me, you +remember when I began to buy land. For years after that I was always +squeezing and borrowing until I was ashamed to show my face in the +banks. And then, all at once, men began to come to me offering to lend +me money—and I didn’t need it! Then I went ahead and built this house. +I really built it for Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so +different from the rest of us!” “How different?” -“Oh, you'll see! I'm sure it was to have sons like Emil, and to -give them a chance, that father left the old country. It's curious, -too; on the outside Emil is just like an American boy,--he graduated -from the State University in June, you know,--but underneath he is -more Swedish than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that -he frightens me; he is so violent in his feelings like that.” +“Oh, you’ll see! I’m sure it was to have sons like Emil, and to give +them a chance, that father left the old country. It’s curious, too; on +the outside Emil is just like an American boy,—he graduated from the +State University in June, you know,—but underneath he is more Swedish +than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that he frightens me; he +is so violent in his feelings like that.” “Is he going to farm here with you?” -“He shall do whatever he wants to,” Alexandra declared warmly. “He -is going to have a chance, a whole chance; that's what I've worked -for. Sometimes he talks about studying law, and sometimes, just -lately, he's been talking about going out into the sand hills and -taking up more land. He has his sad times, like father. But I -hope he won't do that. We have land enough, at last!” Alexandra -laughed. - -“How about Lou and Oscar? They've done well, haven't they?” - -“Yes, very well; but they are different, and now that they have -farms of their own I do not see so much of them. We divided the -land equally when Lou married. They have their own way of doing -things, and they do not altogether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps -they think me too independent. But I have had to think for myself -a good many years and am not likely to change. On the whole, -though, we take as much comfort in each other as most brothers and -sisters do. And I am very fond of Lou's oldest daughter.” - -“I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, and they probably -feel the same about me. I even, if you can keep a secret,”--Carl -leaned forward and touched her arm, smiling,--“I even think I liked -the old country better. This is all very splendid in its way, -but there was something about this country when it was a wild old -beast that has haunted me all these years. Now, when I come back -to all this milk and honey, I feel like the old German song, 'Wo -bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest Land?'--Do you ever feel like -that, I wonder?” - -“Yes, sometimes, when I think about father and mother and those -who are gone; so many of our old neighbors.” Alexandra paused and -looked up thoughtfully at the stars. “We can remember the graveyard -when it was wild prairie, Carl, and now--” - -“And now the old story has begun to write itself over there,” said -Carl softly. “Isn't it queer: there are only two or three human -stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they -had never happened before; like the larks in this country, that -have been singing the same five notes over for thousands of years.” - -“Oh, yes! The young people, they live so hard. And yet I sometimes -envy them. There is my little neighbor, now; the people who bought -your old place. I wouldn't have sold it to any one else, but I -was always fond of that girl. You must remember her, little Marie -Tovesky, from Omaha, who used to visit here? When she was eighteen -she ran away from the convent school and got married, crazy child! -She came out here a bride, with her father and husband. He had -nothing, and the old man was willing to buy them a place and set -them up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad to have her so -near me. I've never been sorry, either. I even try to get along -with Frank on her account.” +“He shall do whatever he wants to,” Alexandra declared warmly. “He is +going to have a chance, a whole chance; that’s what I’ve worked for. +Sometimes he talks about studying law, and sometimes, just lately, he’s +been talking about going out into the sand hills and taking up more +land. He has his sad times, like father. But I hope he won’t do that. +We have land enough, at last!” Alexandra laughed. + +“How about Lou and Oscar? They’ve done well, haven’t they?” + +“Yes, very well; but they are different, and now that they have farms +of their own I do not see so much of them. We divided the land equally +when Lou married. They have their own way of doing things, and they do +not altogether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps they think me too +independent. But I have had to think for myself a good many years and +am not likely to change. On the whole, though, we take as much comfort +in each other as most brothers and sisters do. And I am very fond of +Lou’s oldest daughter.” + +“I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, and they probably feel +the same about me. I even, if you can keep a secret,”—Carl leaned +forward and touched her arm, smiling,—“I even think I liked the old +country better. This is all very splendid in its way, but there was +something about this country when it was a wild old beast that has +haunted me all these years. Now, when I come back to all this milk and +honey, I feel like the old German song, ‘Wo bist du, wo bist du, mein +geliebtest Land?’—Do you ever feel like that, I wonder?” + +“Yes, sometimes, when I think about father and mother and those who are +gone; so many of our old neighbors.” Alexandra paused and looked up +thoughtfully at the stars. “We can remember the graveyard when it was +wild prairie, Carl, and now—” + +“And now the old story has begun to write itself over there,” said Carl +softly. “Isn’t it queer: there are only two or three human stories, and +they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never +happened before; like the larks in this country, that have been singing +the same five notes over for thousands of years.” + +“Oh, yes! The young people, they live so hard. And yet I sometimes envy +them. There is my little neighbor, now; the people who bought your old +place. I wouldn’t have sold it to any one else, but I was always fond +of that girl. You must remember her, little Marie Tovesky, from Omaha, +who used to visit here? When she was eighteen she ran away from the +convent school and got married, crazy child! She came out here a bride, +with her father and husband. He had nothing, and the old man was +willing to buy them a place and set them up. Your farm took her fancy, +and I was glad to have her so near me. I’ve never been sorry, either. I +even try to get along with Frank on her account.” “Is Frank her husband?” -“Yes. He's one of these wild fellows. Most Bohemians are -good-natured, but Frank thinks we don't appreciate him here, I -guess. He's jealous about everything, his farm and his horses and -his pretty wife. Everybody likes her, just the same as when she -was little. Sometimes I go up to the Catholic church with Emil, -and it's funny to see Marie standing there laughing and shaking -hands with people, looking so excited and gay, with Frank sulking -behind her as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank's not a bad -neighbor, but to get on with him you've got to make a fuss over -him and act as if you thought he was a very important person all -the time, and different from other people. I find it hard to keep -that up from one year's end to another.” - -“I shouldn't think you'd be very successful at that kind of thing, +“Yes. He’s one of these wild fellows. Most Bohemians are good-natured, +but Frank thinks we don’t appreciate him here, I guess. He’s jealous +about everything, his farm and his horses and his pretty wife. +Everybody likes her, just the same as when she was little. Sometimes I +go up to the Catholic church with Emil, and it’s funny to see Marie +standing there laughing and shaking hands with people, looking so +excited and gay, with Frank sulking behind her as if he could eat +everybody alive. Frank’s not a bad neighbor, but to get on with him +you’ve got to make a fuss over him and act as if you thought he was a +very important person all the time, and different from other people. I +find it hard to keep that up from one year’s end to another.” + +“I shouldn’t think you’d be very successful at that kind of thing, Alexandra.” Carl seemed to find the idea amusing. -“Well,” said Alexandra firmly, “I do the best I can, on Marie's -account. She has it hard enough, anyway. She's too young and -pretty for this sort of life. We're all ever so much older and -slower. But she's the kind that won't be downed easily. She'll -work all day and go to a Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and -drive the hay wagon for a cross man next morning. I could stay by -a job, but I never had the go in me that she has, when I was going -my best. I'll have to take you over to see her to-morrow.” +“Well,” said Alexandra firmly, “I do the best I can, on Marie’s +account. She has it hard enough, anyway. She’s too young and pretty for +this sort of life. We’re all ever so much older and slower. But she’s +the kind that won’t be downed easily. She’ll work all day and go to a +Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and drive the hay wagon for a +cross man next morning. I could stay by a job, but I never had the go +in me that she has, when I was going my best. I’ll have to take you +over to see her to-morrow.” Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly among the castor beans and -sighed. “Yes, I suppose I must see the old place. I'm cowardly -about things that remind me of myself. It took courage to come -at all, Alexandra. I wouldn't have, if I hadn't wanted to see you -very, very much.” - -Alexandra looked at him with her calm, deliberate eyes. “Why do -you dread things like that, Carl?” she asked earnestly. “Why are -you dissatisfied with yourself?” - -Her visitor winced. “How direct you are, Alexandra! Just like -you used to be. Do I give myself away so quickly? Well, you see, -for one thing, there's nothing to look forward to in my profession. -Wood-engraving is the only thing I care about, and that had gone out -before I began. Everything's cheap metal work nowadays, touching -up miserable photographs, forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good -ones. I'm absolutely sick of it all.” Carl frowned. “Alexandra, -all the way out from New York I've been planning how I could -deceive you and make you think me a very enviable fellow, and here -I am telling you the truth the first night. I waste a lot of time -pretending to people, and the joke of it is, I don't think I ever -deceive any one. There are too many of my kind; people know us on -sight.” +sighed. “Yes, I suppose I must see the old place. I’m cowardly about +things that remind me of myself. It took courage to come at all, +Alexandra. I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t wanted to see you very, very +much.” + +Alexandra looked at him with her calm, deliberate eyes. “Why do you +dread things like that, Carl?” she asked earnestly. “Why are you +dissatisfied with yourself?” + +Her visitor winced. “How direct you are, Alexandra! Just like you used +to be. Do I give myself away so quickly? Well, you see, for one thing, +there’s nothing to look forward to in my profession. Wood-engraving is +the only thing I care about, and that had gone out before I began. +Everything’s cheap metal work nowadays, touching up miserable +photographs, forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good ones. I’m +absolutely sick of it all.” Carl frowned. “Alexandra, all the way out +from New York I’ve been planning how I could deceive you and make you +think me a very enviable fellow, and here I am telling you the truth +the first night. I waste a lot of time pretending to people, and the +joke of it is, I don’t think I ever deceive any one. There are too many +of my kind; people know us on sight.” Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair back from her brow with a -puzzled, thoughtful gesture. “You see,” he went on calmly, “measured -by your standards here, I'm a failure. I couldn't buy even one of -your cornfields. I've enjoyed a great many things, but I've got -nothing to show for it all.” - -“But you show for it yourself, Carl. I'd rather have had your -freedom than my land.” - -Carl shook his head mournfully. “Freedom so often means that one -isn't needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a -background of your own, you would be missed. But off there in the -cities there are thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all -alike; we have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing. When one -of us dies, they scarcely know where to bury him. Our landlady and -the delicatessen man are our mourners, and we leave nothing behind -us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an easel, or a typewriter, or -whatever tool we got our living by. All we have ever managed to -do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent that one has to pay for -a few square feet of space near the heart of things. We have no -house, no place, no people of our own. We live in the streets, -in the parks, in the theatres. We sit in restaurants and concert -halls and look about at the hundreds of our own kind and shudder.” - -Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon -made on the surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that -she understood what he meant. At last she said slowly, “And yet I -would rather have Emil grow up like that than like his two brothers. -We pay a high rent, too, though we pay differently. We grow hard -and heavy here. We don't move lightly and easily as you do, and -our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider than my cornfields, -if there were not something beside this, I wouldn't feel that it -was much worth while to work. No, I would rather have Emil like -you than like them. I felt that as soon as you came.” +puzzled, thoughtful gesture. “You see,” he went on calmly, “measured by +your standards here, I’m a failure. I couldn’t buy even one of your +cornfields. I’ve enjoyed a great many things, but I’ve got nothing to +show for it all.” + +“But you show for it yourself, Carl. I’d rather have had your freedom +than my land.” + +Carl shook his head mournfully. “Freedom so often means that one isn’t +needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a background of +your own, you would be missed. But off there in the cities there are +thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all alike; we have no ties, +we know nobody, we own nothing. When one of us dies, they scarcely know +where to bury him. Our landlady and the delicatessen man are our +mourners, and we leave nothing behind us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, +or an easel, or a typewriter, or whatever tool we got our living by. +All we have ever managed to do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent +that one has to pay for a few square feet of space near the heart of +things. We have no house, no place, no people of our own. We live in +the streets, in the parks, in the theatres. We sit in restaurants and +concert halls and look about at the hundreds of our own kind and +shudder.” + +Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon made +on the surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that she +understood what he meant. At last she said slowly, “And yet I would +rather have Emil grow up like that than like his two brothers. We pay a +high rent, too, though we pay differently. We grow hard and heavy here. +We don’t move lightly and easily as you do, and our minds get stiff. If +the world were no wider than my cornfields, if there were not something +beside this, I wouldn’t feel that it was much worth while to work. No, +I would rather have Emil like you than like them. I felt that as soon +as you came.” “I wonder why you feel like that?” Carl mused. -“I don't know. Perhaps I am like Carrie Jensen, the sister of one -of my hired men. She had never been out of the cornfields, and a -few years ago she got despondent and said life was just the same -thing over and over, and she didn't see the use of it. After she -had tried to kill herself once or twice, her folks got worried and -sent her over to Iowa to visit some relations. Ever since she's -come back she's been perfectly cheerful, and she says she's contented -to live and work in a world that's so big and interesting. She -said that anything as big as the bridges over the Platte and the -Missouri reconciled her. And it's what goes on in the world that -reconciles me.” +“I don’t know. Perhaps I am like Carrie Jensen, the sister of one of my +hired men. She had never been out of the cornfields, and a few years +ago she got despondent and said life was just the same thing over and +over, and she didn’t see the use of it. After she had tried to kill +herself once or twice, her folks got worried and sent her over to Iowa +to visit some relations. Ever since she’s come back she’s been +perfectly cheerful, and she says she’s contented to live and work in a +world that’s so big and interesting. She said that anything as big as +the bridges over the Platte and the Missouri reconciled her. And it’s +what goes on in the world that reconciles me.” V -Alexandra did not find time to go to her neighbor's the next day, nor -the next. It was a busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing -going on, and even Emil was in the field with a team and cultivator. -Carl went about over the farms with Alexandra in the morning, and -in the afternoon and evening they found a great deal to talk about. -Emil, for all his track practice, did not stand up under farmwork -very well, and by night he was too tired to talk or even to practise -on his cornet. + +Alexandra did not find time to go to her neighbor’s the next day, nor +the next. It was a busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing going +on, and even Emil was in the field with a team and cultivator. Carl +went about over the farms with Alexandra in the morning, and in the +afternoon and evening they found a great deal to talk about. Emil, for +all his track practice, did not stand up under farmwork very well, and +by night he was too tired to talk or even to practise on his cornet. On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it was light, and stole -downstairs and out of the kitchen door just as old Ivar was making -his morning ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded to him and hurried -up the draw, past the garden, and into the pasture where the milking -cows used to be kept. +downstairs and out of the kitchen door just as old Ivar was making his +morning ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded to him and hurried up the +draw, past the garden, and into the pasture where the milking cows used +to be kept. The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire that -was burning under the edge of the world. The color was reflected -in the globules of dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass. -Carl walked rapidly until he came to the crest of the second hill, -where the Bergson pasture joined the one that had belonged to his -father. There he sat down and waited for the sun to rise. It was -just there that he and Alexandra used to do their milking together, he -on his side of the fence, she on hers. He could remember exactly -how she looked when she came over the close-cropped grass, her -skirts pinned up, her head bare, a bright tin pail in either hand, -and the milky light of the early morning all about her. Even as -a boy he used to feel, when he saw her coming with her free step, -her upright head and calm shoulders, that she looked as if she had -walked straight out of the morning itself. Since then, when he had -happened to see the sun come up in the country or on the water, he -had often remembered the young Swedish girl and her milking pails. +was burning under the edge of the world. The color was reflected in the +globules of dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass. Carl walked +rapidly until he came to the crest of the second hill, where the +Bergson pasture joined the one that had belonged to his father. There +he sat down and waited for the sun to rise. It was just there that he +and Alexandra used to do their milking together, he on his side of the +fence, she on hers. He could remember exactly how she looked when she +came over the close-cropped grass, her skirts pinned up, her head bare, +a bright tin pail in either hand, and the milky light of the early +morning all about her. Even as a boy he used to feel, when he saw her +coming with her free step, her upright head and calm shoulders, that +she looked as if she had walked straight out of the morning itself. +Since then, when he had happened to see the sun come up in the country +or on the water, he had often remembered the young Swedish girl and her +milking pails. Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in the -grass about him all the small creatures of day began to tune their -tiny instruments. Birds and insects without number began to chirp, -to twitter, to snap and whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill -noises. The pasture was flooded with light; every clump of ironweed -and snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden light -seemed to be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racing -in. - -He crossed the fence into the pasture that was now the Shabatas' and -continued his walk toward the pond. He had not gone far, however, -when he discovered that he was not the only person abroad. In the -draw below, his gun in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, -with a young woman beside him. They were moving softly, keeping -close together, and Carl knew that they expected to find ducks on -the pond. At the moment when they came in sight of the bright spot -of water, he heard a whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into the -air. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and five of the birds -fell to the ground. Emil and his companion laughed delightedly, -and Emil ran to pick them up. When he came back, dangling the -ducks by their feet, Marie held her apron and he dropped them into -it. As she stood looking down at them, her face changed. She -took up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of feathers with the blood -dripping slowly from its mouth, and looked at the live color that -still burned on its plumage. +grass about him all the small creatures of day began to tune their tiny +instruments. Birds and insects without number began to chirp, to +twitter, to snap and whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill +noises. The pasture was flooded with light; every clump of ironweed and +snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden light seemed +to be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racing in. + +He crossed the fence into the pasture that was now the Shabatas’ and +continued his walk toward the pond. He had not gone far, however, when +he discovered that he was not the only person abroad. In the draw +below, his gun in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, with a +young woman beside him. They were moving softly, keeping close +together, and Carl knew that they expected to find ducks on the pond. +At the moment when they came in sight of the bright spot of water, he +heard a whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into the air. There was a +sharp crack from the gun, and five of the birds fell to the ground. +Emil and his companion laughed delightedly, and Emil ran to pick them +up. When he came back, dangling the ducks by their feet, Marie held her +apron and he dropped them into it. As she stood looking down at them, +her face changed. She took up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of +feathers with the blood dripping slowly from its mouth, and looked at +the live color that still burned on its plumage. As she let it fall, she cried in distress, “Oh, Emil, why did you?” -“I like that!” the boy exclaimed indignantly. “Why, Marie, you -asked me to come yourself.” +“I like that!” the boy exclaimed indignantly. “Why, Marie, you asked me +to come yourself.” -“Yes, yes, I know,” she said tearfully, “but I didn't think. I -hate to see them when they are first shot. They were having such -a good time, and we've spoiled it all for them.” +“Yes, yes, I know,” she said tearfully, “but I didn’t think. I hate to +see them when they are first shot. They were having such a good time, +and we’ve spoiled it all for them.” -Emil gave a rather sore laugh. “I should say we had! I'm not going -hunting with you any more. You're as bad as Ivar. Here, let me -take them.” He snatched the ducks out of her apron. +Emil gave a rather sore laugh. “I should say we had! I’m not going +hunting with you any more. You’re as bad as Ivar. Here, let me take +them.” He snatched the ducks out of her apron. -“Don't be cross, Emil. Only--Ivar's right about wild things. They're -too happy to kill. You can tell just how they felt when they flew -up. They were scared, but they didn't really think anything could -hurt them. No, we won't do that any more.” +“Don’t be cross, Emil. Only—Ivar’s right about wild things. They’re too +happy to kill. You can tell just how they felt when they flew up. They +were scared, but they didn’t really think anything could hurt them. No, +we won’t do that any more.” -“All right,” Emil assented. “I'm sorry I made you feel bad.” As -he looked down into her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp -young bitterness in his own. +“All right,” Emil assented. “I’m sorry I made you feel bad.” As he +looked down into her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp young +bitterness in his own. -Carl watched them as they moved slowly down the draw. They had -not seen him at all. He had not overheard much of their dialogue, -but he felt the import of it. It made him, somehow, unreasonably -mournful to find two young things abroad in the pasture in the -early morning. He decided that he needed his breakfast. +Carl watched them as they moved slowly down the draw. They had not seen +him at all. He had not overheard much of their dialogue, but he felt +the import of it. It made him, somehow, unreasonably mournful to find +two young things abroad in the pasture in the early morning. He decided +that he needed his breakfast. VI -At dinner that day Alexandra said she thought they must really -manage to go over to the Shabatas' that afternoon. “It's not often -I let three days go by without seeing Marie. She will think I have -forsaken her, now that my old friend has come back.” - -After the men had gone back to work, Alexandra put on a white dress -and her sun-hat, and she and Carl set forth across the fields. -“You see we have kept up the old path, Carl. It has been so nice -for me to feel that there was a friend at the other end of it -again.” - -Carl smiled a little ruefully. “All the same, I hope it hasn't -been QUITE the same.” - -Alexandra looked at him with surprise. “Why, no, of course not. -Not the same. She could not very well take your place, if that's -what you mean. I'm friendly with all my neighbors, I hope. But -Marie is really a companion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. -You wouldn't want me to be more lonely than I have been, would -you?” - -Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular lock of hair with the -edge of his hat. “Of course I don't. I ought to be thankful that -this path hasn't been worn by--well, by friends with more pressing -errands than your little Bohemian is likely to have.” He paused -to give Alexandra his hand as she stepped over the stile. “Are -you the least bit disappointed in our coming together again?” he -asked abruptly. “Is it the way you hoped it would be?” - -Alexandra smiled at this. “Only better. When I've thought about -your coming, I've sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have -lived where things move so fast, and everything is slow here; the -people slowest of all. Our lives are like the years, all made up -of weather and crops and cows. How you hated cows!” She shook her -head and laughed to herself. - -“I didn't when we milked together. I walked up to the pasture -corners this morning. I wonder whether I shall ever be able to -tell you all that I was thinking about up there. It's a strange -thing, Alexandra; I find it easy to be frank with you about everything -under the sun except--yourself!” - -“You are afraid of hurting my feelings, perhaps.” Alexandra looked -at him thoughtfully. - -“No, I'm afraid of giving you a shock. You've seen yourself for -so long in the dull minds of the people about you, that if I were -to tell you how you seem to me, it would startle you. But you must -see that you astonish me. You must feel when people admire you.” - -Alexandra blushed and laughed with some confusion. “I felt that -you were pleased with me, if you mean that.” - -“And you've felt when other people were pleased with you?” he -insisted. - -“Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the banks and the county -offices, seem glad to see me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant -to do business with people who are clean and healthy-looking,” she -admitted blandly. - -Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the Shabatas' gate for her. + +At dinner that day Alexandra said she thought they must really manage +to go over to the Shabatas’ that afternoon. “It’s not often I let three +days go by without seeing Marie. She will think I have forsaken her, +now that my old friend has come back.” + +After the men had gone back to work, Alexandra put on a white dress and +her sun-hat, and she and Carl set forth across the fields. “You see we +have kept up the old path, Carl. It has been so nice for me to feel +that there was a friend at the other end of it again.” + +Carl smiled a little ruefully. “All the same, I hope it hasn’t been +_quite_ the same.” + +Alexandra looked at him with surprise. “Why, no, of course not. Not the +same. She could not very well take your place, if that’s what you mean. +I’m friendly with all my neighbors, I hope. But Marie is really a +companion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. You wouldn’t want me +to be more lonely than I have been, would you?” + +Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular lock of hair with the edge +of his hat. “Of course I don’t. I ought to be thankful that this path +hasn’t been worn by—well, by friends with more pressing errands than +your little Bohemian is likely to have.” He paused to give Alexandra +his hand as she stepped over the stile. “Are you the least bit +disappointed in our coming together again?” he asked abruptly. “Is it +the way you hoped it would be?” + +Alexandra smiled at this. “Only better. When I’ve thought about your +coming, I’ve sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have lived where +things move so fast, and everything is slow here; the people slowest of +all. Our lives are like the years, all made up of weather and crops and +cows. How you hated cows!” She shook her head and laughed to herself. + +“I didn’t when we milked together. I walked up to the pasture corners +this morning. I wonder whether I shall ever be able to tell you all +that I was thinking about up there. It’s a strange thing, Alexandra; I +find it easy to be frank with you about everything under the sun +except—yourself!” + +“You are afraid of hurting my feelings, perhaps.” Alexandra looked at +him thoughtfully. + +“No, I’m afraid of giving you a shock. You’ve seen yourself for so long +in the dull minds of the people about you, that if I were to tell you +how you seem to me, it would startle you. But you must see that you +astonish me. You must feel when people admire you.” + +Alexandra blushed and laughed with some confusion. “I felt that you +were pleased with me, if you mean that.” + +“And you’ve felt when other people were pleased with you?” he insisted. + +“Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the banks and the county offices, +seem glad to see me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant to do +business with people who are clean and healthy-looking,” she admitted +blandly. + +Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the Shabatas’ gate for her. “Oh, do you?” he asked dryly. -There was no sign of life about the Shabatas' house except a big -yellow cat, sunning itself on the kitchen doorstep. +There was no sign of life about the Shabatas’ house except a big yellow +cat, sunning itself on the kitchen doorstep. -Alexandra took the path that led to the orchard. “She often sits -there and sews. I didn't telephone her we were coming, because I -didn't want her to go to work and bake cake and freeze ice-cream. -She'll always make a party if you give her the least excuse. Do -you recognize the apple trees, Carl?” +Alexandra took the path that led to the orchard. “She often sits there +and sews. I didn’t telephone her we were coming, because I didn’t want +her to go to work and bake cake and freeze ice-cream. She’ll always +make a party if you give her the least excuse. Do you recognize the +apple trees, Carl?” -Linstrum looked about him. “I wish I had a dollar for every bucket -of water I've carried for those trees. Poor father, he was an -easy man, but he was perfectly merciless when it came to watering -the orchard.” +Linstrum looked about him. “I wish I had a dollar for every bucket of +water I’ve carried for those trees. Poor father, he was an easy man, +but he was perfectly merciless when it came to watering the orchard.” -“That's one thing I like about Germans; they make an orchard grow -if they can't make anything else. I'm so glad these trees belong -to some one who takes comfort in them. When I rented this place, -the tenants never kept the orchard up, and Emil and I used to come -over and take care of it ourselves. It needs mowing now. There -she is, down in the corner. Maria-a-a!” she called. +“That’s one thing I like about Germans; they make an orchard grow if +they can’t make anything else. I’m so glad these trees belong to some +one who takes comfort in them. When I rented this place, the tenants +never kept the orchard up, and Emil and I used to come over and take +care of it ourselves. It needs mowing now. There she is, down in the +corner. Maria-a-a!” she called. A recumbent figure started up from the grass and came running toward them through the flickering screen of light and shade. -“Look at her! Isn't she like a little brown rabbit?” Alexandra -laughed. - -Maria ran up panting and threw her arms about Alexandra. “Oh, I -had begun to think you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you -were so busy. Yes, Emil told me about Mr. Linstrum being here. -Won't you come up to the house?” - -“Why not sit down there in your corner? Carl wants to see the -orchard. He kept all these trees alive for years, watering them -with his own back.” - -Marie turned to Carl. “Then I'm thankful to you, Mr. Linstrum. We'd -never have bought the place if it hadn't been for this orchard, and -then I wouldn't have had Alexandra, either.” She gave Alexandra's -arm a little squeeze as she walked beside her. “How nice your dress -smells, Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in your chest, like I -told you.” - -She led them to the northwest corner of the orchard, sheltered on -one side by a thick mulberry hedge and bordered on the other by a -wheatfield, just beginning to yellow. In this corner the ground -dipped a little, and the blue-grass, which the weeds had driven out -in the upper part of the orchard, grew thick and luxuriant. Wild -roses were flaming in the tufts of bunchgrass along the fence. -Under a white mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. Beside -it lay a book and a workbasket. - -“You must have the seat, Alexandra. The grass would stain your -dress,” the hostess insisted. She dropped down on the ground -at Alexandra's side and tucked her feet under her. Carl sat at -a little distance from the two women, his back to the wheatfield, -and watched them. Alexandra took off her shade-hat and threw it on -the ground. Marie picked it up and played with the white ribbons, -twisting them about her brown fingers as she talked. They made a -pretty picture in the strong sunlight, the leafy pattern surrounding -them like a net; the Swedish woman so white and gold, kindly and -amused, but armored in calm, and the alert brown one, her full lips -parted, points of yellow light dancing in her eyes as she laughed -and chattered. Carl had never forgotten little Marie Tovesky's -eyes, and he was glad to have an opportunity to study them. The -brown iris, he found, was curiously slashed with yellow, the color -of sunflower honey, or of old amber. In each eye one of these -streaks must have been larger than the others, for the effect was -that of two dancing points of light, two little yellow bubbles, -such as rise in a glass of champagne. Sometimes they seemed like -the sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily excited, to kindle -with a fierce little flame if one but breathed upon her. “What -a waste,” Carl reflected. “She ought to be doing all that for a +“Look at her! Isn’t she like a little brown rabbit?” Alexandra laughed. + +Maria ran up panting and threw her arms about Alexandra. “Oh, I had +begun to think you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you were so +busy. Yes, Emil told me about Mr. Linstrum being here. Won’t you come +up to the house?” + +“Why not sit down there in your corner? Carl wants to see the orchard. +He kept all these trees alive for years, watering them with his own +back.” + +Marie turned to Carl. “Then I’m thankful to you, Mr. Linstrum. We’d +never have bought the place if it hadn’t been for this orchard, and +then I wouldn’t have had Alexandra, either.” She gave Alexandra’s arm a +little squeeze as she walked beside her. “How nice your dress smells, +Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in your chest, like I told you.” + +She led them to the northwest corner of the orchard, sheltered on one +side by a thick mulberry hedge and bordered on the other by a +wheatfield, just beginning to yellow. In this corner the ground dipped +a little, and the blue-grass, which the weeds had driven out in the +upper part of the orchard, grew thick and luxuriant. Wild roses were +flaming in the tufts of bunchgrass along the fence. Under a white +mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. Beside it lay a book and a +workbasket. + +“You must have the seat, Alexandra. The grass would stain your dress,” +the hostess insisted. She dropped down on the ground at Alexandra’s +side and tucked her feet under her. Carl sat at a little distance from +the two women, his back to the wheatfield, and watched them. Alexandra +took off her shade-hat and threw it on the ground. Marie picked it up +and played with the white ribbons, twisting them about her brown +fingers as she talked. They made a pretty picture in the strong +sunlight, the leafy pattern surrounding them like a net; the Swedish +woman so white and gold, kindly and amused, but armored in calm, and +the alert brown one, her full lips parted, points of yellow light +dancing in her eyes as she laughed and chattered. Carl had never +forgotten little Marie Tovesky’s eyes, and he was glad to have an +opportunity to study them. The brown iris, he found, was curiously +slashed with yellow, the color of sunflower honey, or of old amber. In +each eye one of these streaks must have been larger than the others, +for the effect was that of two dancing points of light, two little +yellow bubbles, such as rise in a glass of champagne. Sometimes they +seemed like the sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily excited, to +kindle with a fierce little flame if one but breathed upon her. “What a +waste,” Carl reflected. “She ought to be doing all that for a sweetheart. How awkwardly things come about!” It was not very long before Marie sprang up out of the grass again. “Wait a moment. I want to show you something.” She ran away and disappeared behind the low-growing apple trees. -“What a charming creature,” Carl murmured. “I don't wonder that -her husband is jealous. But can't she walk? does she always run?” +“What a charming creature,” Carl murmured. “I don’t wonder that her +husband is jealous. But can’t she walk? does she always run?” -Alexandra nodded. “Always. I don't see many people, but I don't -believe there are many like her, anywhere.” +Alexandra nodded. “Always. I don’t see many people, but I don’t believe +there are many like her, anywhere.” Marie came back with a branch she had broken from an apricot tree, -laden with pale yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it beside -Carl. “Did you plant those, too? They are such beautiful little -trees.” +laden with pale yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it beside Carl. +“Did you plant those, too? They are such beautiful little trees.” Carl fingered the blue-green leaves, porous like blotting-paper and -shaped like birch leaves, hung on waxen red stems. “Yes, I think -I did. Are these the circus trees, Alexandra?” - -“Shall I tell her about them?” Alexandra asked. “Sit down like -a good girl, Marie, and don't ruin my poor hat, and I'll tell you -a story. A long time ago, when Carl and I were, say, sixteen and -twelve, a circus came to Hanover and we went to town in our wagon, -with Lou and Oscar, to see the parade. We hadn't money enough to -go to the circus. We followed the parade out to the circus grounds -and hung around until the show began and the crowd went inside the -tent. Then Lou was afraid we looked foolish standing outside in -the pasture, so we went back to Hanover feeling very sad. There -was a man in the streets selling apricots, and we had never seen -any before. He had driven down from somewhere up in the French -country, and he was selling them twenty-five cents a peck. We had -a little money our fathers had given us for candy, and I bought -two pecks and Carl bought one. They cheered us a good deal, and -we saved all the seeds and planted them. Up to the time Carl went -away, they hadn't borne at all.” - -“And now he's come back to eat them,” cried Marie, nodding at Carl. -“That IS a good story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Linstrum. -I used to see you in Hanover sometimes, when Uncle Joe took me to -town. I remember you because you were always buying pencils and -tubes of paint at the drug store. Once, when my uncle left me at -the store, you drew a lot of little birds and flowers for me on a -piece of wrapping-paper. I kept them for a long while. I thought -you were very romantic because you could draw and had such black -eyes.” - -Carl smiled. “Yes, I remember that time. Your uncle bought you -some kind of a mechanical toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman -and smoking a hookah, wasn't it? And she turned her head backwards -and forwards.” - -“Oh, yes! Wasn't she splendid! I knew well enough I ought not -to tell Uncle Joe I wanted it, for he had just come back from the -saloon and was feeling good. You remember how he laughed? She -tickled him, too. But when we got home, my aunt scolded him for -buying toys when she needed so many things. We wound our lady up -every night, and when she began to move her head my aunt used to -laugh as hard as any of us. It was a music-box, you know, and the -Turkish lady played a tune while she smoked. That was how she made -you feel so jolly. As I remember her, she was lovely, and had a -gold crescent on her turban.” +shaped like birch leaves, hung on waxen red stems. “Yes, I think I did. +Are these the circus trees, Alexandra?” + +“Shall I tell her about them?” Alexandra asked. “Sit down like a good +girl, Marie, and don’t ruin my poor hat, and I’ll tell you a story. A +long time ago, when Carl and I were, say, sixteen and twelve, a circus +came to Hanover and we went to town in our wagon, with Lou and Oscar, +to see the parade. We hadn’t money enough to go to the circus. We +followed the parade out to the circus grounds and hung around until the +show began and the crowd went inside the tent. Then Lou was afraid we +looked foolish standing outside in the pasture, so we went back to +Hanover feeling very sad. There was a man in the streets selling +apricots, and we had never seen any before. He had driven down from +somewhere up in the French country, and he was selling them twenty-five +cents a peck. We had a little money our fathers had given us for candy, +and I bought two pecks and Carl bought one. They cheered us a good +deal, and we saved all the seeds and planted them. Up to the time Carl +went away, they hadn’t borne at all.” + +“And now he’s come back to eat them,” cried Marie, nodding at Carl. +“That IS a good story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Linstrum. I +used to see you in Hanover sometimes, when Uncle Joe took me to town. I +remember you because you were always buying pencils and tubes of paint +at the drug store. Once, when my uncle left me at the store, you drew a +lot of little birds and flowers for me on a piece of wrapping-paper. I +kept them for a long while. I thought you were very romantic because +you could draw and had such black eyes.” + +Carl smiled. “Yes, I remember that time. Your uncle bought you some +kind of a mechanical toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman and +smoking a hookah, wasn’t it? And she turned her head backwards and +forwards.” + +“Oh, yes! Wasn’t she splendid! I knew well enough I ought not to tell +Uncle Joe I wanted it, for he had just come back from the saloon and +was feeling good. You remember how he laughed? She tickled him, too. +But when we got home, my aunt scolded him for buying toys when she +needed so many things. We wound our lady up every night, and when she +began to move her head my aunt used to laugh as hard as any of us. It +was a music-box, you know, and the Turkish lady played a tune while she +smoked. That was how she made you feel so jolly. As I remember her, she +was lovely, and had a gold crescent on her turban.” Half an hour later, as they were leaving the house, Carl and Alexandra were met in the path by a strapping fellow in overalls and a blue shirt. He was breathing hard, as if he had been running, and was muttering to himself. -Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the arm, gave him a little -push toward her guests. “Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum.” +Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the arm, gave him a little push +toward her guests. “Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum.” -Frank took off his broad straw hat and nodded to Alexandra. When -he spoke to Carl, he showed a fine set of white teeth. He was burned -a dull red down to his neckband, and there was a heavy three-days' -stubble on his face. Even in his agitation he was handsome, but -he looked a rash and violent man. +Frank took off his broad straw hat and nodded to Alexandra. When he +spoke to Carl, he showed a fine set of white teeth. He was burned a +dull red down to his neckband, and there was a heavy three-days’ +stubble on his face. Even in his agitation he was handsome, but he +looked a rash and violent man. -Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once to his wife and -began, in an outraged tone, “I have to leave my team to drive the -old woman Hiller's hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat old woman -to de court if she ain't careful, I tell you!” +Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once to his wife and began, +in an outraged tone, “I have to leave my team to drive the old woman +Hiller’s hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat old woman to de court if +she ain’t careful, I tell you!” -His wife spoke soothingly. “But, Frank, she has only her lame boy -to help her. She does the best she can.” +His wife spoke soothingly. “But, Frank, she has only her lame boy to +help her. She does the best she can.” Alexandra looked at the excited man and offered a suggestion. “Why -don't you go over there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? -You'd save time for yourself in the end.” +don’t you go over there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? You’d +save time for yourself in the end.” -Frank's neck stiffened. “Not-a-much, I won't. I keep my hogs -home. Other peoples can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend -shoes, he can mend fence.” +Frank’s neck stiffened. “Not-a-much, I won’t. I keep my hogs home. +Other peoples can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend shoes, he can +mend fence.” -“Maybe,” said Alexandra placidly; “but I've found it sometimes pays -to mend other people's fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to see me -soon.” +“Maybe,” said Alexandra placidly; “but I’ve found it sometimes pays to +mend other people’s fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to see me soon.” Alexandra walked firmly down the path and Carl followed her. -Frank went into the house and threw himself on the sofa, his face -to the wall, his clenched fist on his hip. Marie, having seen her -guests off, came in and put her hand coaxingly on his shoulder. +Frank went into the house and threw himself on the sofa, his face to +the wall, his clenched fist on his hip. Marie, having seen her guests +off, came in and put her hand coaxingly on his shoulder. -“Poor Frank! You've run until you've made your head ache, now -haven't you? Let me make you some coffee.” +“Poor Frank! You’ve run until you’ve made your head ache, now haven’t +you? Let me make you some coffee.” -“What else am I to do?” he cried hotly in Bohemian. “Am I to let -any old woman's hogs root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself -to death for?” +“What else am I to do?” he cried hotly in Bohemian. “Am I to let any +old woman’s hogs root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself to death +for?” -“Don't worry about it, Frank. I'll speak to Mrs. Hiller again. -But, really, she almost cried last time they got out, she was so -sorry.” +“Don’t worry about it, Frank. I’ll speak to Mrs. Hiller again. But, +really, she almost cried last time they got out, she was so sorry.” -Frank bounced over on his other side. “That's it; you always side -with them against me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free -to borrow the mower and break it, or turn their hogs in on me. -They know you won't care!” +Frank bounced over on his other side. “That’s it; you always side with +them against me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free to borrow +the mower and break it, or turn their hogs in on me. They know you +won’t care!” -Marie hurried away to make his coffee. When she came back, he was -fast asleep. She sat down and looked at him for a long while, very -thoughtfully. When the kitchen clock struck six she went out to -get supper, closing the door gently behind her. She was always -sorry for Frank when he worked himself into one of these rages, and -she was sorry to have him rough and quarrelsome with his neighbors. -She was perfectly aware that the neighbors had a good deal to put -up with, and that they bore with Frank for her sake. +Marie hurried away to make his coffee. When she came back, he was fast +asleep. She sat down and looked at him for a long while, very +thoughtfully. When the kitchen clock struck six she went out to get +supper, closing the door gently behind her. She was always sorry for +Frank when he worked himself into one of these rages, and she was sorry +to have him rough and quarrelsome with his neighbors. She was perfectly +aware that the neighbors had a good deal to put up with, and that they +bore with Frank for her sake. VII -Marie's father, Albert Tovesky, was one of the more intelligent -Bohemians who came West in the early seventies. He settled in Omaha -and became a leader and adviser among his people there. Marie was -his youngest child, by a second wife, and was the apple of his eye. -She was barely sixteen, and was in the graduating class of the -Omaha High School, when Frank Shabata arrived from the old country -and set all the Bohemian girls in a flutter. He was easily the -buck of the beer-gardens, and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with -his silk hat and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, wearing gloves -and carrying a little wisp of a yellow cane. He was tall and fair, -with splendid teeth and close-cropped yellow curls, and he wore a -slightly disdainful expression, proper for a young man with high -connections, whose mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. There -was often an interesting discontent in his blue eyes, and every -Bohemian girl he met imagined herself the cause of that unsatisfied -expression. He had a way of drawing out his cambric handkerchief -slowly, by one corner, from his breast-pocket, that was melancholy -and romantic in the extreme. He took a little flight with each -of the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it was when he was with -little Marie Tovesky that he drew his handkerchief out most slowly, -and, after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match most -despairingly. Any one could see, with half an eye, that his proud + +Marie’s father, Albert Tovesky, was one of the more intelligent +Bohemians who came West in the early seventies. He settled in Omaha and +became a leader and adviser among his people there. Marie was his +youngest child, by a second wife, and was the apple of his eye. She was +barely sixteen, and was in the graduating class of the Omaha High +School, when Frank Shabata arrived from the old country and set all the +Bohemian girls in a flutter. He was easily the buck of the +beer-gardens, and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with his silk hat +and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, wearing gloves and carrying a +little wisp of a yellow cane. He was tall and fair, with splendid teeth +and close-cropped yellow curls, and he wore a slightly disdainful +expression, proper for a young man with high connections, whose mother +had a big farm in the Elbe valley. There was often an interesting +discontent in his blue eyes, and every Bohemian girl he met imagined +herself the cause of that unsatisfied expression. He had a way of +drawing out his cambric handkerchief slowly, by one corner, from his +breast-pocket, that was melancholy and romantic in the extreme. He took +a little flight with each of the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it +was when he was with little Marie Tovesky that he drew his handkerchief +out most slowly, and, after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match +most despairingly. Any one could see, with half an eye, that his proud heart was bleeding for somebody. -One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie's graduation, she met -Frank at a Bohemian picnic down the river and went rowing with him -all the afternoon. When she got home that evening she went straight -to her father's room and told him that she was engaged to Shabata. -Old Tovesky was having a comfortable pipe before he went to bed. -When he heard his daughter's announcement, he first prudently -corked his beer bottle and then leaped to his feet and had a turn -of temper. He characterized Frank Shabata by a Bohemian expression -which is the equivalent of stuffed shirt. - -“Why don't he go to work like the rest of us did? His farm in the -Elbe valley, indeed! Ain't he got plenty brothers and sisters? -It's his mother's farm, and why don't he stay at home and help her? -Haven't I seen his mother out in the morning at five o'clock with -her ladle and her big bucket on wheels, putting liquid manure on -the cabbages? Don't I know the look of old Eva Shabata's hands? -Like an old horse's hoofs they are--and this fellow wearing gloves -and rings! Engaged, indeed! You aren't fit to be out of school, -and that's what's the matter with you. I will send you off to the -Sisters of the Sacred Heart in St. Louis, and they will teach you -some sense, _I_ guess!” - -Accordingly, the very next week, Albert Tovesky took his daughter, -pale and tearful, down the river to the convent. But the way to -make Frank want anything was to tell him he couldn't have it. He -managed to have an interview with Marie before she went away, -and whereas he had been only half in love with her before, he now -persuaded himself that he would not stop at anything. Marie took -with her to the convent, under the canvas lining of her trunk, the -results of a laborious and satisfying morning on Frank's part; no -less than a dozen photographs of himself, taken in a dozen different -love-lorn attitudes. There was a little round photograph for her -watch-case, photographs for her wall and dresser, and even long -narrow ones to be used as bookmarks. More than once the handsome -gentleman was torn to pieces before the French class by an indignant -nun. +One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie’s graduation, she met Frank +at a Bohemian picnic down the river and went rowing with him all the +afternoon. When she got home that evening she went straight to her +father’s room and told him that she was engaged to Shabata. Old Tovesky +was having a comfortable pipe before he went to bed. When he heard his +daughter’s announcement, he first prudently corked his beer bottle and +then leaped to his feet and had a turn of temper. He characterized +Frank Shabata by a Bohemian expression which is the equivalent of +stuffed shirt. + +“Why don’t he go to work like the rest of us did? His farm in the Elbe +valley, indeed! Ain’t he got plenty brothers and sisters? It’s his +mother’s farm, and why don’t he stay at home and help her? Haven’t I +seen his mother out in the morning at five o’clock with her ladle and +her big bucket on wheels, putting liquid manure on the cabbages? Don’t +I know the look of old Eva Shabata’s hands? Like an old horse’s hoofs +they are—and this fellow wearing gloves and rings! Engaged, indeed! You +aren’t fit to be out of school, and that’s what’s the matter with you. +I will send you off to the Sisters of the Sacred Heart in St. Louis, +and they will teach you some sense, _I_ guess!” + +Accordingly, the very next week, Albert Tovesky took his daughter, pale +and tearful, down the river to the convent. But the way to make Frank +want anything was to tell him he couldn’t have it. He managed to have +an interview with Marie before she went away, and whereas he had been +only half in love with her before, he now persuaded himself that he +would not stop at anything. Marie took with her to the convent, under +the canvas lining of her trunk, the results of a laborious and +satisfying morning on Frank’s part; no less than a dozen photographs of +himself, taken in a dozen different love-lorn attitudes. There was a +little round photograph for her watch-case, photographs for her wall +and dresser, and even long narrow ones to be used as bookmarks. More +than once the handsome gentleman was torn to pieces before the French +class by an indignant nun. Marie pined in the convent for a year, until her eighteenth birthday -was passed. Then she met Frank Shabata in the Union Station in -St. Louis and ran away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his daughter -because there was nothing else to do, and bought her a farm in -the country that she had loved so well as a child. Since then her -story had been a part of the history of the Divide. She and Frank -had been living there for five years when Carl Linstrum came back -to pay his long deferred visit to Alexandra. Frank had, on the -whole, done better than one might have expected. He had flung -himself at the soil with savage energy. Once a year he went to -Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He stayed away for a week or -two, and then came home and worked like a demon. He did work; if -he felt sorry for himself, that was his own affair. +was passed. Then she met Frank Shabata in the Union Station in St. +Louis and ran away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his daughter because +there was nothing else to do, and bought her a farm in the country that +she had loved so well as a child. Since then her story had been a part +of the history of the Divide. She and Frank had been living there for +five years when Carl Linstrum came back to pay his long deferred visit +to Alexandra. Frank had, on the whole, done better than one might have +expected. He had flung himself at the soil with savage energy. Once a +year he went to Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He stayed away for a +week or two, and then came home and worked like a demon. He did work; +if he felt sorry for himself, that was his own affair. VIII -On the evening of the day of Alexandra's call at the Shabatas', -a heavy rain set in. Frank sat up until a late hour reading the -Sunday newspapers. One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, and -Frank took it as a personal affront. In printing the story of the -young man's marital troubles, the knowing editor gave a sufficiently -colored account of his career, stating the amount of his income -and the manner in which he was supposed to spend it. Frank read -English slowly, and the more he read about this divorce case, the -angrier he grew. At last he threw down the page with a snort. He -turned to his farm-hand who was reading the other half of the paper. - -“By God! if I have that young feller in de hayfield once, I show -him someting. Listen here what he do wit his money.” And Frank -began the catalogue of the young man's reputed extravagances. - -Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the Goulds, for whom she -had nothing but good will, should make her so much trouble. She -hated to see the Sunday newspapers come into the house. Frank was -always reading about the doings of rich people and feeling outraged. -He had an inexhaustible stock of stories about their crimes and -follies, how they bribed the courts and shot down their butlers -with impunity whenever they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson had very -similar ideas, and they were two of the political agitators of the -county. - -The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the -ground was too wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to -Sainte-Agnes to spend the day at Moses Marcel's saloon. After he -was gone, Marie went out to the back porch to begin her butter-making. -A brisk wind had come up and was driving puffy white clouds across -the sky. The orchard was sparkling and rippling in the sun. Marie -stood looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid of the -churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the air, the merry sound of -the whetstone on the scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran -into the house, put on a short skirt and a pair of her husband's -boots, caught up a tin pail and started for the orchard. Emil -had already begun work and was mowing vigorously. When he saw her -coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. His yellow canvas leggings -and khaki trousers were splashed to the knees. - -“Don't let me disturb you, Emil. I'm going to pick cherries. -Isn't everything beautiful after the rain? Oh, but I'm glad to get -this place mowed! When I heard it raining in the night, I thought -maybe you would come and do it for me to-day. The wind wakened -me. Didn't it blow dreadfully? Just smell the wild roses! They -are always so spicy after a rain. We never had so many of them -in here before. I suppose it's the wet season. Will you have to -cut them, too?” - -“If I cut the grass, I will,” Emil said teasingly. “What's the -matter with you? What makes you so flighty?” - -“Am I flighty? I suppose that's the wet season, too, then. It's -exciting to see everything growing so fast,--and to get the grass -cut! Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut them. Oh, -I don't mean all of them, I mean that low place down by my tree, where -there are so many. Aren't you splashed! Look at the spider-webs -all over the grass. Good-bye. I'll call you if I see a snake.” - -She tripped away and Emil stood looking after her. In a few moments -he heard the cherries dropping smartly into the pail, and he began -to swing his scythe with that long, even stroke that few American -boys ever learn. Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, -stripping one glittering branch after another, shivering when she -caught a shower of raindrops on her neck and hair. And Emil mowed -his way slowly down toward the cherry trees. - -That summer the rains had been so many and opportune that it was -almost more than Shabata and his man could do to keep up with the -corn; the orchard was a neglected wilderness. All sorts of weeds and -herbs and flowers had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, -pale green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, plantations of wild -cotton, tangles of foxtail and wild wheat. South of the apricot -trees, cornering on the wheatfield, was Frank's alfalfa, where -myriads of white and yellow butterflies were always fluttering -above the purple blossoms. When Emil reached the lower corner by -the hedge, Marie was sitting under her white mulberry tree, the -pailful of cherries beside her, looking off at the gentle, tireless -swelling of the wheat. - -“Emil,” she said suddenly--he was mowing quietly about under the -tree so as not to disturb her--“what religion did the Swedes have -away back, before they were Christians?” - -Emil paused and straightened his back. “I don't know. About like -the Germans', wasn't it?” - -Marie went on as if she had not heard him. “The Bohemians, you -know, were tree worshipers before the missionaries came. Father says -the people in the mountains still do queer things, sometimes,--they -believe that trees bring good or bad luck.” - -Emil looked superior. “Do they? Well, which are the lucky trees? -I'd like to know.” - -“I don't know all of them, but I know lindens are. The old people -in the mountains plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do away -with the spells that come from the old trees they say have lasted -from heathen times. I'm a good Catholic, but I think I could get -along with caring for trees, if I hadn't anything else.” - -“That's a poor saying,” said Emil, stooping over to wipe his hands -in the wet grass. - -“Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that way. I like trees -because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than -other things do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever -think of when I sit here. When I come back to it, I never have to -remind it of anything; I begin just where I left off.” - -Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached up among the branches -and began to pick the sweet, insipid fruit,--long ivory-colored -berries, tipped with faint pink, like white coral, that fall to -the ground unheeded all summer through. He dropped a handful into -her lap. + +On the evening of the day of Alexandra’s call at the Shabatas’, a heavy +rain set in. Frank sat up until a late hour reading the Sunday +newspapers. One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, and Frank took it +as a personal affront. In printing the story of the young man’s marital +troubles, the knowing editor gave a sufficiently colored account of his +career, stating the amount of his income and the manner in which he was +supposed to spend it. Frank read English slowly, and the more he read +about this divorce case, the angrier he grew. At last he threw down the +page with a snort. He turned to his farm-hand who was reading the other +half of the paper. + +“By God! if I have that young feller in de hayfield once, I show him +someting. Listen here what he do wit his money.” And Frank began the +catalogue of the young man’s reputed extravagances. + +Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the Goulds, for whom she had +nothing but good will, should make her so much trouble. She hated to +see the Sunday newspapers come into the house. Frank was always reading +about the doings of rich people and feeling outraged. He had an +inexhaustible stock of stories about their crimes and follies, how they +bribed the courts and shot down their butlers with impunity whenever +they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson had very similar ideas, and they were +two of the political agitators of the county. + +The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the ground +was too wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to +Sainte-Agnes to spend the day at Moses Marcel’s saloon. After he was +gone, Marie went out to the back porch to begin her butter-making. A +brisk wind had come up and was driving puffy white clouds across the +sky. The orchard was sparkling and rippling in the sun. Marie stood +looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid of the churn, when she +heard a sharp ring in the air, the merry sound of the whetstone on the +scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran into the house, put on a +short skirt and a pair of her husband’s boots, caught up a tin pail and +started for the orchard. Emil had already begun work and was mowing +vigorously. When he saw her coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. His +yellow canvas leggings and khaki trousers were splashed to the knees. + +“Don’t let me disturb you, Emil. I’m going to pick cherries. Isn’t +everything beautiful after the rain? Oh, but I’m glad to get this place +mowed! When I heard it raining in the night, I thought maybe you would +come and do it for me to-day. The wind wakened me. Didn’t it blow +dreadfully? Just smell the wild roses! They are always so spicy after a +rain. We never had so many of them in here before. I suppose it’s the +wet season. Will you have to cut them, too?” + +“If I cut the grass, I will,” Emil said teasingly. “What’s the matter +with you? What makes you so flighty?” + +“Am I flighty? I suppose that’s the wet season, too, then. It’s +exciting to see everything growing so fast,—and to get the grass cut! +Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut them. Oh, I don’t +mean all of them, I mean that low place down by my tree, where there +are so many. Aren’t you splashed! Look at the spider-webs all over the +grass. Good-bye. I’ll call you if I see a snake.” + +She tripped away and Emil stood looking after her. In a few moments he +heard the cherries dropping smartly into the pail, and he began to +swing his scythe with that long, even stroke that few American boys +ever learn. Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, stripping +one glittering branch after another, shivering when she caught a shower +of raindrops on her neck and hair. And Emil mowed his way slowly down +toward the cherry trees. + +That summer the rains had been so many and opportune that it was almost +more than Shabata and his man could do to keep up with the corn; the +orchard was a neglected wilderness. All sorts of weeds and herbs and +flowers had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, pale +green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, plantations of wild cotton, +tangles of foxtail and wild wheat. South of the apricot trees, +cornering on the wheatfield, was Frank’s alfalfa, where myriads of +white and yellow butterflies were always fluttering above the purple +blossoms. When Emil reached the lower corner by the hedge, Marie was +sitting under her white mulberry tree, the pailful of cherries beside +her, looking off at the gentle, tireless swelling of the wheat. + +“Emil,” she said suddenly—he was mowing quietly about under the tree so +as not to disturb her—“what religion did the Swedes have away back, +before they were Christians?” + +Emil paused and straightened his back. “I don’t know. About like the +Germans’, wasn’t it?” + +Marie went on as if she had not heard him. “The Bohemians, you know, +were tree worshipers before the missionaries came. Father says the +people in the mountains still do queer things, sometimes,—they believe +that trees bring good or bad luck.” + +Emil looked superior. “Do they? Well, which are the lucky trees? I’d +like to know.” + +“I don’t know all of them, but I know lindens are. The old people in +the mountains plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do away with +the spells that come from the old trees they say have lasted from +heathen times. I’m a good Catholic, but I think I could get along with +caring for trees, if I hadn’t anything else.” + +“That’s a poor saying,” said Emil, stooping over to wipe his hands in +the wet grass. + +“Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that way. I like trees because +they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things +do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever think of when I sit +here. When I come back to it, I never have to remind it of anything; I +begin just where I left off.” + +Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached up among the branches and +began to pick the sweet, insipid fruit,—long ivory-colored berries, +tipped with faint pink, like white coral, that fall to the ground +unheeded all summer through. He dropped a handful into her lap. “Do you like Mr. Linstrum?” Marie asked suddenly. -“Yes. Don't you?” +“Yes. Don’t you?” “Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of staid and school-teachery. -But, of course, he is older than Frank, even. I'm sure I don't -want to live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you think Alexandra -likes him very much?” +But, of course, he is older than Frank, even. I’m sure I don’t want to +live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you think Alexandra likes him +very much?” “I suppose so. They were old friends.” “Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!” Marie tossed her head impatiently. -“Does she really care about him? When she used to tell me about -him, I always wondered whether she wasn't a little in love with -him.” +“Does she really care about him? When she used to tell me about him, I +always wondered whether she wasn’t a little in love with him.” -“Who, Alexandra?” Emil laughed and thrust his hands into his -trousers pockets. “Alexandra's never been in love, you crazy!” He -laughed again. “She wouldn't know how to go about it. The idea!” +“Who, Alexandra?” Emil laughed and thrust his hands into his trousers +pockets. “Alexandra’s never been in love, you crazy!” He laughed again. +“She wouldn’t know how to go about it. The idea!” -Marie shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, you don't know Alexandra as well -as you think you do! If you had any eyes, you would see that she -is very fond of him. It would serve you all right if she walked -off with Carl. I like him because he appreciates her more than -you do.” +Marie shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, you don’t know Alexandra as well as +you think you do! If you had any eyes, you would see that she is very +fond of him. It would serve you all right if she walked off with Carl. +I like him because he appreciates her more than you do.” -Emil frowned. “What are you talking about, Marie? Alexandra's -all right. She and I have always been good friends. What more do -you want? I like to talk to Carl about New York and what a fellow -can do there.” +Emil frowned. “What are you talking about, Marie? Alexandra’s all +right. She and I have always been good friends. What more do you want? +I like to talk to Carl about New York and what a fellow can do there.” “Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of going off there?” -“Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn't I?” The young man took up -his scythe and leaned on it. “Would you rather I went off in the -sand hills and lived like Ivar?” +“Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn’t I?” The young man took up his +scythe and leaned on it. “Would you rather I went off in the sand hills +and lived like Ivar?” -Marie's face fell under his brooding gaze. She looked down at his -wet leggings. “I'm sure Alexandra hopes you will stay on here,” - she murmured. +Marie’s face fell under his brooding gaze. She looked down at his wet +leggings. “I’m sure Alexandra hopes you will stay on here,” she +murmured. “Then Alexandra will be disappointed,” the young man said roughly. -“What do I want to hang around here for? Alexandra can run the -farm all right, without me. I don't want to stand around and look -on. I want to be doing something on my own account.” +“What do I want to hang around here for? Alexandra can run the farm all +right, without me. I don’t want to stand around and look on. I want to +be doing something on my own account.” -“That's so,” Marie sighed. “There are so many, many things you -can do. Almost anything you choose.” +“That’s so,” Marie sighed. “There are so many, many things you can do. +Almost anything you choose.” -“And there are so many, many things I can't do.” Emil echoed her -tone sarcastically. “Sometimes I don't want to do anything at -all, and sometimes I want to pull the four corners of the Divide -together,”--he threw out his arm and brought it back with a jerk,--“so, -like a table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses going up -and down, up and down.” +“And there are so many, many things I can’t do.” Emil echoed her tone +sarcastically. “Sometimes I don’t want to do anything at all, and +sometimes I want to pull the four corners of the Divide together,”—he +threw out his arm and brought it back with a jerk,—“so, like a +table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses going up and down, up +and down.” -Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her face clouded. “I wish -you weren't so restless, and didn't get so worked up over things,” - she said sadly. +Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her face clouded. “I wish you +weren’t so restless, and didn’t get so worked up over things,” she said +sadly. “Thank you,” he returned shortly. -She sighed despondently. “Everything I say makes you cross, don't -it? And you never used to be cross to me.” - -Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning down at her bent head. -He stood in an attitude of self-defense, his feet well apart, his -hands clenched and drawn up at his sides, so that the cords stood -out on his bare arms. “I can't play with you like a little boy -any more,” he said slowly. “That's what you miss, Marie. You'll -have to get some other little boy to play with.” He stopped and took -a deep breath. Then he went on in a low tone, so intense that it -was almost threatening: “Sometimes you seem to understand perfectly, -and then sometimes you pretend you don't. You don't help things -any by pretending. It's then that I want to pull the corners of -the Divide together. If you WON'T understand, you know, I could -make you!” +She sighed despondently. “Everything I say makes you cross, don’t it? +And you never used to be cross to me.” + +Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning down at her bent head. He +stood in an attitude of self-defense, his feet well apart, his hands +clenched and drawn up at his sides, so that the cords stood out on his +bare arms. “I can’t play with you like a little boy any more,” he said +slowly. “That’s what you miss, Marie. You’ll have to get some other +little boy to play with.” He stopped and took a deep breath. Then he +went on in a low tone, so intense that it was almost threatening: +“Sometimes you seem to understand perfectly, and then sometimes you +pretend you don’t. You don’t help things any by pretending. It’s then +that I want to pull the corners of the Divide together. If you WON’T +understand, you know, I could make you!” Marie clasped her hands and started up from her seat. She had grown -very pale and her eyes were shining with excitement and distress. -“But, Emil, if I understand, then all our good times are over, we -can never do nice things together any more. We shall have to behave -like Mr. Linstrum. And, anyhow, there's nothing to understand!” - She struck the ground with her little foot fiercely. “That won't -last. It will go away, and things will be just as they used to. -I wish you were a Catholic. The Church helps people, indeed it -does. I pray for you, but that's not the same as if you prayed -yourself.” +very pale and her eyes were shining with excitement and distress. “But, +Emil, if I understand, then all our good times are over, we can never +do nice things together any more. We shall have to behave like Mr. +Linstrum. And, anyhow, there’s nothing to understand!” She struck the +ground with her little foot fiercely. “That won’t last. It will go +away, and things will be just as they used to. I wish you were a +Catholic. The Church helps people, indeed it does. I pray for you, but +that’s not the same as if you prayed yourself.” -She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked entreatingly into his -face. Emil stood defiant, gazing down at her. +She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked entreatingly into his face. +Emil stood defiant, gazing down at her. -“I can't pray to have the things I want,” he said slowly, “and I -won't pray not to have them, not if I'm damned for it.” +“I can’t pray to have the things I want,” he said slowly, “and I won’t +pray not to have them, not if I’m damned for it.” -Marie turned away, wringing her hands. “Oh, Emil, you won't try! -Then all our good times are over.” +Marie turned away, wringing her hands. “Oh, Emil, you won’t try! Then +all our good times are over.” “Yes; over. I never expect to have any more.” -Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe and began to mow. Marie -took up her cherries and went slowly toward the house, crying -bitterly. +Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe and began to mow. Marie took +up her cherries and went slowly toward the house, crying bitterly. IX -On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl Linstrum's arrival, he rode -with Emil up into the French country to attend a Catholic fair. He -sat for most of the afternoon in the basement of the church, where -the fair was held, talking to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the -gravel terrace, thrown up on the hillside in front of the basement -doors, where the French boys were jumping and wrestling and throwing -the discus. Some of the boys were in their white baseball suits; -they had just come up from a Sunday practice game down in the -ballgrounds. Amedee, the newly married, Emil's best friend, was -their pitcher, renowned among the country towns for his dash and -skill. Amedee was a little fellow, a year younger than Emil and -much more boyish in appearance; very lithe and active and neatly -made, with a clear brown and white skin, and flashing white teeth. -The Sainte-Agnes boys were to play the Hastings nine in a fortnight, -and Amedee's lightning balls were the hope of his team. The little -Frenchman seemed to get every ounce there was in him behind the -ball as it left his hand. - -“You'd have made the battery at the University for sure, 'Medee,” - Emil said as they were walking from the ball-grounds back to the -church on the hill. “You're pitching better than you did in the -spring.” - -Amedee grinned. “Sure! A married man don't lose his head no more.” - He slapped Emil on the back as he caught step with him. “Oh, Emil, -you wanna get married right off quick! It's the greatest thing -ever!” + +On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl Linstrum’s arrival, he rode +with Emil up into the French country to attend a Catholic fair. He sat +for most of the afternoon in the basement of the church, where the fair +was held, talking to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the gravel +terrace, thrown up on the hillside in front of the basement doors, +where the French boys were jumping and wrestling and throwing the +discus. Some of the boys were in their white baseball suits; they had +just come up from a Sunday practice game down in the ballgrounds. +Amédée, the newly married, Emil’s best friend, was their pitcher, +renowned among the country towns for his dash and skill. Amédée was a +little fellow, a year younger than Emil and much more boyish in +appearance; very lithe and active and neatly made, with a clear brown +and white skin, and flashing white teeth. The Sainte-Agnes boys were to +play the Hastings nine in a fortnight, and Amédée’s lightning balls +were the hope of his team. The little Frenchman seemed to get every +ounce there was in him behind the ball as it left his hand. + +“You’d have made the battery at the University for sure, ’Médée,” Emil +said as they were walking from the ball-grounds back to the church on +the hill. “You’re pitching better than you did in the spring.” + +Amédée grinned. “Sure! A married man don’t lose his head no more.” He +slapped Emil on the back as he caught step with him. “Oh, Emil, you +wanna get married right off quick! It’s the greatest thing ever!” Emil laughed. “How am I going to get married without any girl?” -Amedee took his arm. “Pooh! There are plenty girls will have -you. You wanna get some nice French girl, now. She treat you well; -always be jolly. See,”--he began checking off on his fingers,--“there -is Severine, and Alphosen, and Josephine, and Hectorine, and Louise, -and Malvina--why, I could love any of them girls! Why don't you -get after them? Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the matter -with you? I never did know a boy twenty-two years old before that -didn't have no girl. You wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a for me!” - Amedee swaggered. “I bring many good Catholics into this world, -I hope, and that's a way I help the Church.” - -Emil looked down and patted him on the shoulder. “Now you're windy, -'Medee. You Frenchies like to brag.” - -But Amedee had the zeal of the newly married, and he was not -to be lightly shaken off. “Honest and true, Emil, don't you want -ANY girl? Maybe there's some young lady in Lincoln, now, very -grand,”--Amedee waved his hand languidly before his face to denote -the fan of heartless beauty,--“and you lost your heart up there. -Is that it?” +Amédée took his arm. “Pooh! There are plenty girls will have you. You +wanna get some nice French girl, now. She treat you well; always be +jolly. See,”—he began checking off on his fingers,—“there is Sévérine, +and Alphosen, and Joséphine, and Hectorine, and Louise, and +Malvina—why, I could love any of them girls! Why don’t you get after +them? Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the matter with you? I +never did know a boy twenty-two years old before that didn’t have no +girl. You wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a for me!” Amédée swaggered. “I +bring many good Catholics into this world, I hope, and that’s a way I +help the Church.” + +Emil looked down and patted him on the shoulder. “Now you’re windy, +’Médée. You Frenchies like to brag.” + +But Amédée had the zeal of the newly married, and he was not to be +lightly shaken off. “Honest and true, Emil, don’t you want ANY girl? +Maybe there’s some young lady in Lincoln, now, very grand,”—Amédée +waved his hand languidly before his face to denote the fan of heartless +beauty,—“and you lost your heart up there. Is that it?” “Maybe,” said Emil. -But Amedee saw no appropriate glow in his friend's face. “Bah!” - he exclaimed in disgust. “I tell all the French girls to keep 'way -from you. You gotta rock in there,” thumping Emil on the ribs. +But Amédée saw no appropriate glow in his friend’s face. “Bah!” he +exclaimed in disgust. “I tell all the French girls to keep ’way from +you. You gotta rock in there,” thumping Emil on the ribs. -When they reached the terrace at the side of the church, Amedee, -who was excited by his success on the ball-grounds, challenged -Emil to a jumping-match, though he knew he would be beaten. They -belted themselves up, and Raoul Marcel, the choir tenor and Father -Duchesne's pet, and Jean Bordelau, held the string over which they -vaulted. All the French boys stood round, cheering and humping -themselves up when Emil or Amedee went over the wire, as if they -were helping in the lift. Emil stopped at five-feet-five, declaring -that he would spoil his appetite for supper if he jumped any more. +When they reached the terrace at the side of the church, Amédée, who +was excited by his success on the ball-grounds, challenged Emil to a +jumping-match, though he knew he would be beaten. They belted +themselves up, and Raoul Marcel, the choir tenor and Father Duchesne’s +pet, and Jean Bordelau, held the string over which they vaulted. All +the French boys stood round, cheering and humping themselves up when +Emil or Amédée went over the wire, as if they were helping in the lift. +Emil stopped at five-feet-five, declaring that he would spoil his +appetite for supper if he jumped any more. -Angelique, Amedee's pretty bride, as blonde and fair as her name, -who had come out to watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and -said:-- +Angélique, Amédée’s pretty bride, as blonde and fair as her name, who +had come out to watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and said:— -“'Medee could jump much higher than you if he were as tall. And -anyhow, he is much more graceful. He goes over like a bird, and -you have to hump yourself all up.” +“’Médée could jump much higher than you if he were as tall. And anyhow, +he is much more graceful. He goes over like a bird, and you have to +hump yourself all up.” “Oh, I do, do I?” Emil caught her and kissed her saucy mouth squarely, -while she laughed and struggled and called, “'Medee! 'Medee!” - -“There, you see your 'Medee isn't even big enough to get you away -from me. I could run away with you right now and he could only -sit down and cry about it. I'll show you whether I have to hump -myself!” Laughing and panting, he picked Angelique up in his arms -and began running about the rectangle with her. Not until he saw -Marie Shabata's tiger eyes flashing from the gloom of the basement -doorway did he hand the disheveled bride over to her husband. -“There, go to your graceful; I haven't the heart to take you away -from him.” - -Angelique clung to her husband and made faces at Emil over the -white shoulder of Amedee's ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused at -her air of proprietorship and at Amedee's shameless submission to -it. He was delighted with his friend's good fortune. He liked to -see and to think about Amedee's sunny, natural, happy love. - -He and Amedee had ridden and wrestled and larked together since -they were lads of twelve. On Sundays and holidays they were always -arm in arm. It seemed strange that now he should have to hide the -thing that Amedee was so proud of, that the feeling which gave one -of them such happiness should bring the other such despair. It -was like that when Alexandra tested her seed-corn in the spring, -he mused. From two ears that had grown side by side, the grains -of one shot up joyfully into the light, projecting themselves into -the future, and the grains from the other lay still in the earth -and rotted; and nobody knew why. +while she laughed and struggled and called, “’Médée! ’Médée!” + +“There, you see your ’Médée isn’t even big enough to get you away from +me. I could run away with you right now and he could only sit down and +cry about it. I’ll show you whether I have to hump myself!” Laughing +and panting, he picked Angélique up in his arms and began running about +the rectangle with her. Not until he saw Marie Shabata’s tiger eyes +flashing from the gloom of the basement doorway did he hand the +disheveled bride over to her husband. “There, go to your graceful; I +haven’t the heart to take you away from him.” + +Angélique clung to her husband and made faces at Emil over the white +shoulder of Amédée’s ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused at her air of +proprietorship and at Amédée’s shameless submission to it. He was +delighted with his friend’s good fortune. He liked to see and to think +about Amédée’s sunny, natural, happy love. + +He and Amédée had ridden and wrestled and larked together since they +were lads of twelve. On Sundays and holidays they were always arm in +arm. It seemed strange that now he should have to hide the thing that +Amédée was so proud of, that the feeling which gave one of them such +happiness should bring the other such despair. It was like that when +Alexandra tested her seed-corn in the spring, he mused. From two ears +that had grown side by side, the grains of one shot up joyfully into +the light, projecting themselves into the future, and the grains from +the other lay still in the earth and rotted; and nobody knew why. X -While Emil and Carl were amusing themselves at the fair, Alexandra -was at home, busy with her account-books, which had been neglected -of late. She was almost through with her figures when she heard -a cart drive up to the gate, and looking out of the window she saw -her two older brothers. They had seemed to avoid her ever since -Carl Linstrum's arrival, four weeks ago that day, and she hurried -to the door to welcome them. She saw at once that they had come -with some very definite purpose. They followed her stiffly into -the sitting-room. Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the window -and remained standing, his hands behind him. -“You are by yourself?” he asked, looking toward the doorway into -the parlor. +While Emil and Carl were amusing themselves at the fair, Alexandra was +at home, busy with her account-books, which had been neglected of late. +She was almost through with her figures when she heard a cart drive up +to the gate, and looking out of the window she saw her two older +brothers. They had seemed to avoid her ever since Carl Linstrum’s +arrival, four weeks ago that day, and she hurried to the door to +welcome them. She saw at once that they had come with some very +definite purpose. They followed her stiffly into the sitting-room. +Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the window and remained +standing, his hands behind him. + +“You are by yourself?” he asked, looking toward the doorway into the +parlor. “Yes. Carl and Emil went up to the Catholic fair.” For a few moments neither of the men spoke. -Then Lou came out sharply. “How soon does he intend to go away -from here?” +Then Lou came out sharply. “How soon does he intend to go away from +here?” -“I don't know, Lou. Not for some time, I hope.” Alexandra spoke -in an even, quiet tone that often exasperated her brothers. They -felt that she was trying to be superior with them. +“I don’t know, Lou. Not for some time, I hope.” Alexandra spoke in an +even, quiet tone that often exasperated her brothers. They felt that +she was trying to be superior with them. Oscar spoke up grimly. “We thought we ought to tell you that people have begun to talk,” he said meaningly. Alexandra looked at him. “What about?” -Oscar met her eyes blankly. “About you, keeping him here so long. -It looks bad for him to be hanging on to a woman this way. People -think you're getting taken in.” +Oscar met her eyes blankly. “About you, keeping him here so long. It +looks bad for him to be hanging on to a woman this way. People think +you’re getting taken in.” Alexandra shut her account-book firmly. “Boys,” she said seriously, -“don't let's go on with this. We won't come out anywhere. I can't -take advice on such a matter. I know you mean well, but you must -not feel responsible for me in things of this sort. If we go on -with this talk it will only make hard feeling.” +“don’t let’s go on with this. We won’t come out anywhere. I can’t take +advice on such a matter. I know you mean well, but you must not feel +responsible for me in things of this sort. If we go on with this talk +it will only make hard feeling.” -Lou whipped about from the window. “You ought to think a little -about your family. You're making us all ridiculous.” +Lou whipped about from the window. “You ought to think a little about +your family. You’re making us all ridiculous.” “How am I?” @@ -3284,2490 +3228,2418 @@ about your family. You're making us all ridiculous.” “Well, and what is ridiculous about that?” -Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. “Alexandra! Can't you -see he's just a tramp and he's after your money? He wants to be -taken care of, he does!” +Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. “Alexandra! Can’t you see he’s +just a tramp and he’s after your money? He wants to be taken care of, +he does!” -“Well, suppose I want to take care of him? Whose business is it -but my own?” +“Well, suppose I want to take care of him? Whose business is it but my +own?” -“Don't you know he'd get hold of your property?” +“Don’t you know he’d get hold of your property?” -“He'd get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly.” +“He’d get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly.” Oscar sat up suddenly and Lou clutched at his bristly hair. “Give him?” Lou shouted. “Our property, our homestead?” -“I don't know about the homestead,” said Alexandra quietly. “I -know you and Oscar have always expected that it would be left to -your children, and I'm not sure but what you're right. But I'll -do exactly as I please with the rest of my land, boys.” +“I don’t know about the homestead,” said Alexandra quietly. “I know you +and Oscar have always expected that it would be left to your children, +and I’m not sure but what you’re right. But I’ll do exactly as I please +with the rest of my land, boys.” -“The rest of your land!” cried Lou, growing more excited every -minute. “Didn't all the land come out of the homestead? It was -bought with money borrowed on the homestead, and Oscar and me worked -ourselves to the bone paying interest on it.” +“The rest of your land!” cried Lou, growing more excited every minute. +“Didn’t all the land come out of the homestead? It was bought with +money borrowed on the homestead, and Oscar and me worked ourselves to +the bone paying interest on it.” -“Yes, you paid the interest. But when you married we made a division -of the land, and you were satisfied. I've made more on my farms -since I've been alone than when we all worked together.” +“Yes, you paid the interest. But when you married we made a division of +the land, and you were satisfied. I’ve made more on my farms since I’ve +been alone than when we all worked together.” -“Everything you've made has come out of the original land that us -boys worked for, hasn't it? The farms and all that comes out of -them belongs to us as a family.” +“Everything you’ve made has come out of the original land that us boys +worked for, hasn’t it? The farms and all that comes out of them belongs +to us as a family.” -Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. “Come now, Lou. Stick to -the facts. You are talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and -ask him who owns my land, and whether my titles are good.” +Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. “Come now, Lou. Stick to the +facts. You are talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and ask him who +owns my land, and whether my titles are good.” Lou turned to his brother. “This is what comes of letting a woman -meddle in business,” he said bitterly. “We ought to have taken -things in our own hands years ago. But she liked to run things, -and we humored her. We thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We -never thought you'd do anything foolish.” - -Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk with her knuckles. -“Listen, Lou. Don't talk wild. You say you ought to have taken -things into your own hands years ago. I suppose you mean before -you left home. But how could you take hold of what wasn't there? -I've got most of what I have now since we divided the property; -I've built it up myself, and it has nothing to do with you.” - -Oscar spoke up solemnly. “The property of a family really belongs -to the men of the family, no matter about the title. If anything -goes wrong, it's the men that are held responsible.” - -“Yes, of course,” Lou broke in. “Everybody knows that. Oscar and -me have always been easy-going and we've never made any fuss. We -were willing you should hold the land and have the good of it, but -you got no right to part with any of it. We worked in the fields -to pay for the first land you bought, and whatever's come out of -it has got to be kept in the family.” - -Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed on the one point he -could see. “The property of a family belongs to the men of the -family, because they are held responsible, and because they do the -work.” +meddle in business,” he said bitterly. “We ought to have taken things +in our own hands years ago. But she liked to run things, and we humored +her. We thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We never thought you’d +do anything foolish.” + +Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk with her knuckles. “Listen, +Lou. Don’t talk wild. You say you ought to have taken things into your +own hands years ago. I suppose you mean before you left home. But how +could you take hold of what wasn’t there? I’ve got most of what I have +now since we divided the property; I’ve built it up myself, and it has +nothing to do with you.” + +Oscar spoke up solemnly. “The property of a family really belongs to +the men of the family, no matter about the title. If anything goes +wrong, it’s the men that are held responsible.” + +“Yes, of course,” Lou broke in. “Everybody knows that. Oscar and me +have always been easy-going and we’ve never made any fuss. We were +willing you should hold the land and have the good of it, but you got +no right to part with any of it. We worked in the fields to pay for the +first land you bought, and whatever’s come out of it has got to be kept +in the family.” + +Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed on the one point he could +see. “The property of a family belongs to the men of the family, +because they are held responsible, and because they do the work.” Alexandra looked from one to the other, her eyes full of indignation. -She had been impatient before, but now she was beginning to feel -angry. “And what about my work?” she asked in an unsteady voice. - -Lou looked at the carpet. “Oh, now, Alexandra, you always took -it pretty easy! Of course we wanted you to. You liked to manage -round, and we always humored you. We realize you were a great -deal of help to us. There's no woman anywhere around that knows -as much about business as you do, and we've always been proud of -that, and thought you were pretty smart. But, of course, the real -work always fell on us. Good advice is all right, but it don't -get the weeds out of the corn.” - -“Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the crop, and it sometimes -keeps the fields for corn to grow in,” said Alexandra dryly. “Why, -Lou, I can remember when you and Oscar wanted to sell this homestead -and all the improvements to old preacher Ericson for two thousand -dollars. If I'd consented, you'd have gone down to the river and -scraped along on poor farms for the rest of your lives. When I put -in our first field of alfalfa you both opposed me, just because I -first heard about it from a young man who had been to the University. -You said I was being taken in then, and all the neighbors said -so. You know as well as I do that alfalfa has been the salvation -of this country. You all laughed at me when I said our land here -was about ready for wheat, and I had to raise three big wheat crops -before the neighbors quit putting all their land in corn. Why, I -remember you cried, Lou, when we put in the first big wheat-planting, -and said everybody was laughing at us.” - -Lou turned to Oscar. “That's the woman of it; if she tells you to -put in a crop, she thinks she's put it in. It makes women conceited -to meddle in business. I shouldn't think you'd want to remind us -how hard you were on us, Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil.” - -“Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. Conditions were hard. -Maybe I would never have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly -didn't choose to be the kind of girl I was. If you take even a -vine and cut it back again and again, it grows hard, like a tree.” - -Lou felt that they were wandering from the point, and that -in digression Alexandra might unnerve him. He wiped his forehead -with a jerk of his handkerchief. “We never doubted you, Alexandra. -We never questioned anything you did. You've always had your own -way. But you can't expect us to sit like stumps and see you done -out of the property by any loafer who happens along, and making -yourself ridiculous into the bargain.” - -Oscar rose. “Yes,” he broke in, “everybody's laughing to see you -get took in; at your age, too. Everybody knows he's nearly five -years younger than you, and is after your money. Why, Alexandra, -you are forty years old!” - -“All that doesn't concern anybody but Carl and me. Go to town and -ask your lawyers what you can do to restrain me from disposing of -my own property. And I advise you to do what they tell you; for -the authority you can exert by law is the only influence you will -ever have over me again.” Alexandra rose. “I think I would rather -not have lived to find out what I have to-day,” she said quietly, -closing her desk. - -Lou and Oscar looked at each other questioningly. There seemed to -be nothing to do but to go, and they walked out. - -“You can't do business with women,” Oscar said heavily as he -clambered into the cart. “But anyhow, we've had our say, at last.” +She had been impatient before, but now she was beginning to feel angry. +“And what about my work?” she asked in an unsteady voice. + +Lou looked at the carpet. “Oh, now, Alexandra, you always took it +pretty easy! Of course we wanted you to. You liked to manage round, and +we always humored you. We realize you were a great deal of help to us. +There’s no woman anywhere around that knows as much about business as +you do, and we’ve always been proud of that, and thought you were +pretty smart. But, of course, the real work always fell on us. Good +advice is all right, but it don’t get the weeds out of the corn.” + +“Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the crop, and it sometimes keeps +the fields for corn to grow in,” said Alexandra dryly. “Why, Lou, I can +remember when you and Oscar wanted to sell this homestead and all the +improvements to old preacher Ericson for two thousand dollars. If I’d +consented, you’d have gone down to the river and scraped along on poor +farms for the rest of your lives. When I put in our first field of +alfalfa you both opposed me, just because I first heard about it from a +young man who had been to the University. You said I was being taken in +then, and all the neighbors said so. You know as well as I do that +alfalfa has been the salvation of this country. You all laughed at me +when I said our land here was about ready for wheat, and I had to raise +three big wheat crops before the neighbors quit putting all their land +in corn. Why, I remember you cried, Lou, when we put in the first big +wheat-planting, and said everybody was laughing at us.” + +Lou turned to Oscar. “That’s the woman of it; if she tells you to put +in a crop, she thinks she’s put it in. It makes women conceited to +meddle in business. I shouldn’t think you’d want to remind us how hard +you were on us, Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil.” + +“Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. Conditions were hard. Maybe I +would never have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly didn’t choose +to be the kind of girl I was. If you take even a vine and cut it back +again and again, it grows hard, like a tree.” + +Lou felt that they were wandering from the point, and that in +digression Alexandra might unnerve him. He wiped his forehead with a +jerk of his handkerchief. “We never doubted you, Alexandra. We never +questioned anything you did. You’ve always had your own way. But you +can’t expect us to sit like stumps and see you done out of the property +by any loafer who happens along, and making yourself ridiculous into +the bargain.” + +Oscar rose. “Yes,” he broke in, “everybody’s laughing to see you get +took in; at your age, too. Everybody knows he’s nearly five years +younger than you, and is after your money. Why, Alexandra, you are +forty years old!” + +“All that doesn’t concern anybody but Carl and me. Go to town and ask +your lawyers what you can do to restrain me from disposing of my own +property. And I advise you to do what they tell you; for the authority +you can exert by law is the only influence you will ever have over me +again.” Alexandra rose. “I think I would rather not have lived to find +out what I have to-day,” she said quietly, closing her desk. + +Lou and Oscar looked at each other questioningly. There seemed to be +nothing to do but to go, and they walked out. + +“You can’t do business with women,” Oscar said heavily as he clambered +into the cart. “But anyhow, we’ve had our say, at last.” Lou scratched his head. “Talk of that kind might come too high, you -know; but she's apt to be sensible. You hadn't ought to said that -about her age, though, Oscar. I'm afraid that hurt her feelings; -and the worst thing we can do is to make her sore at us. She'd -marry him out of contrariness.” +know; but she’s apt to be sensible. You hadn’t ought to said that about +her age, though, Oscar. I’m afraid that hurt her feelings; and the +worst thing we can do is to make her sore at us. She’d marry him out of +contrariness.” -“I only meant,” said Oscar, “that she is old enough to know better, -and she is. If she was going to marry, she ought to done it long -ago, and not go making a fool of herself now.” +“I only meant,” said Oscar, “that she is old enough to know better, and +she is. If she was going to marry, she ought to done it long ago, and +not go making a fool of herself now.” Lou looked anxious, nevertheless. “Of course,” he reflected hopefully -and inconsistently, “Alexandra ain't much like other women-folks. -Maybe it won't make her sore. Maybe she'd as soon be forty as -not!” +and inconsistently, “Alexandra ain’t much like other women-folks. Maybe +it won’t make her sore. Maybe she’d as soon be forty as not!” XI -Emil came home at about half-past seven o'clock that evening. Old -Ivar met him at the windmill and took his horse, and the young -man went directly into the house. He called to his sister and she -answered from her bedroom, behind the sitting-room, saying that -she was lying down. + +Emil came home at about half-past seven o’clock that evening. Old Ivar +met him at the windmill and took his horse, and the young man went +directly into the house. He called to his sister and she answered from +her bedroom, behind the sitting-room, saying that she was lying down. Emil went to her door. -“Can I see you for a minute?” he asked. “I want to talk to you -about something before Carl comes.” +“Can I see you for a minute?” he asked. “I want to talk to you about +something before Carl comes.” Alexandra rose quickly and came to the door. “Where is Carl?” -“Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted to talk to him, so he -rode over to Oscar's with them. Are you coming out?” Emil asked -impatiently. +“Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted to talk to him, so he rode +over to Oscar’s with them. Are you coming out?” Emil asked impatiently. -“Yes, sit down. I'll be dressed in a moment.” +“Yes, sit down. I’ll be dressed in a moment.” Alexandra closed her door, and Emil sank down on the old slat lounge -and sat with his head in his hands. When his sister came out, he -looked up, not knowing whether the interval had been short or long, -and he was surprised to see that the room had grown quite dark. -That was just as well; it would be easier to talk if he were not -under the gaze of those clear, deliberate eyes, that saw so far in -some directions and were so blind in others. Alexandra, too, was -glad of the dusk. Her face was swollen from crying. - -Emil started up and then sat down again. “Alexandra,” he said -slowly, in his deep young baritone, “I don't want to go away to -law school this fall. Let me put it off another year. I want to -take a year off and look around. It's awfully easy to rush into -a profession you don't really like, and awfully hard to get out of -it. Linstrum and I have been talking about that.” - -“Very well, Emil. Only don't go off looking for land.” She came -up and put her hand on his shoulder. “I've been wishing you could -stay with me this winter.” - -“That's just what I don't want to do, Alexandra. I'm restless. -I want to go to a new place. I want to go down to the City of -Mexico to join one of the University fellows who's at the head of -an electrical plant. He wrote me he could give me a little job, -enough to pay my way, and I could look around and see what I want -to do. I want to go as soon as harvest is over. I guess Lou and -Oscar will be sore about it.” - -“I suppose they will.” Alexandra sat down on the lounge beside -him. “They are very angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. -They will not come here again.” - -Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he did not notice the -sadness of her tone. He was thinking about the reckless life he -meant to live in Mexico. +and sat with his head in his hands. When his sister came out, he looked +up, not knowing whether the interval had been short or long, and he was +surprised to see that the room had grown quite dark. That was just as +well; it would be easier to talk if he were not under the gaze of those +clear, deliberate eyes, that saw so far in some directions and were so +blind in others. Alexandra, too, was glad of the dusk. Her face was +swollen from crying. + +Emil started up and then sat down again. “Alexandra,” he said slowly, +in his deep young baritone, “I don’t want to go away to law school this +fall. Let me put it off another year. I want to take a year off and +look around. It’s awfully easy to rush into a profession you don’t +really like, and awfully hard to get out of it. Linstrum and I have +been talking about that.” + +“Very well, Emil. Only don’t go off looking for land.” She came up and +put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been wishing you could stay with me +this winter.” + +“That’s just what I don’t want to do, Alexandra. I’m restless. I want +to go to a new place. I want to go down to the City of Mexico to join +one of the University fellows who’s at the head of an electrical plant. +He wrote me he could give me a little job, enough to pay my way, and I +could look around and see what I want to do. I want to go as soon as +harvest is over. I guess Lou and Oscar will be sore about it.” + +“I suppose they will.” Alexandra sat down on the lounge beside him. +“They are very angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. They will +not come here again.” + +Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he did not notice the sadness +of her tone. He was thinking about the reckless life he meant to live +in Mexico. “What about?” he asked absently. -“About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am going to marry him, -and that some of my property will get away from them.” +“About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am going to marry him, and that +some of my property will get away from them.” -Emil shrugged his shoulders. “What nonsense!” he murmured. “Just -like them.” +Emil shrugged his shoulders. “What nonsense!” he murmured. “Just like +them.” Alexandra drew back. “Why nonsense, Emil?” -“Why, you've never thought of such a thing, have you? They always -have to have something to fuss about.” +“Why, you’ve never thought of such a thing, have you? They always have +to have something to fuss about.” “Emil,” said his sister slowly, “you ought not to take things for -granted. Do you agree with them that I have no right to change my -way of living?” +granted. Do you agree with them that I have no right to change my way +of living?” -Emil looked at the outline of his sister's head in the dim light. -They were sitting close together and he somehow felt that she -could hear his thoughts. He was silent for a moment, and then said -in an embarrassed tone, “Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do -whatever you want to. I'll always back you.” +Emil looked at the outline of his sister’s head in the dim light. They +were sitting close together and he somehow felt that she could hear his +thoughts. He was silent for a moment, and then said in an embarrassed +tone, “Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do whatever you want to. +I’ll always back you.” -“But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to you if I married -Carl?” +“But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to you if I married Carl?” Emil fidgeted. The issue seemed to him too far-fetched to warrant -discussion. “Why, no. I should be surprised if you wanted to. I -can't see exactly why. But that's none of my business. You ought -to do as you please. Certainly you ought not to pay any attention -to what the boys say.” - -Alexandra sighed. “I had hoped you might understand, a little, -why I do want to. But I suppose that's too much to expect. I've -had a pretty lonely life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is the only -friend I have ever had.” - -Emil was awake now; a name in her last sentence roused him. He -put out his hand and took his sister's awkwardly. “You ought to -do just as you wish, and I think Carl's a fine fellow. He and I -would always get on. I don't believe any of the things the boys -say about him, honest I don't. They are suspicious of him because -he's intelligent. You know their way. They've been sore at me -ever since you let me go away to college. They're always trying to -catch me up. If I were you, I wouldn't pay any attention to them. -There's nothing to get upset about. Carl's a sensible fellow. He -won't mind them.” - -“I don't know. If they talk to him the way they did to me, I think -he'll go away.” - -Emil grew more and more uneasy. “Think so? Well, Marie said it -would serve us all right if you walked off with him.” - -“Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would.” Alexandra's voice -broke. - -Emil began unlacing his leggings. “Why don't you talk to her about -it? There's Carl, I hear his horse. I guess I'll go upstairs and -get my boots off. No, I don't want any supper. We had supper at -five o'clock, at the fair.” +discussion. “Why, no. I should be surprised if you wanted to. I can’t +see exactly why. But that’s none of my business. You ought to do as you +please. Certainly you ought not to pay any attention to what the boys +say.” + +Alexandra sighed. “I had hoped you might understand, a little, why I do +want to. But I suppose that’s too much to expect. I’ve had a pretty +lonely life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is the only friend I have ever +had.” + +Emil was awake now; a name in her last sentence roused him. He put out +his hand and took his sister’s awkwardly. “You ought to do just as you +wish, and I think Carl’s a fine fellow. He and I would always get on. I +don’t believe any of the things the boys say about him, honest I don’t. +They are suspicious of him because he’s intelligent. You know their +way. They’ve been sore at me ever since you let me go away to college. +They’re always trying to catch me up. If I were you, I wouldn’t pay any +attention to them. There’s nothing to get upset about. Carl’s a +sensible fellow. He won’t mind them.” + +“I don’t know. If they talk to him the way they did to me, I think +he’ll go away.” + +Emil grew more and more uneasy. “Think so? Well, Marie said it would +serve us all right if you walked off with him.” + +“Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would.” Alexandra’s voice broke. + +Emil began unlacing his leggings. “Why don’t you talk to her about it? +There’s Carl, I hear his horse. I guess I’ll go upstairs and get my +boots off. No, I don’t want any supper. We had supper at five o’clock, +at the fair.” Emil was glad to escape and get to his own room. He was a little -ashamed for his sister, though he had tried not to show it. He -felt that there was something indecorous in her proposal, and she -did seem to him somewhat ridiculous. There was trouble enough in -the world, he reflected, as he threw himself upon his bed, without -people who were forty years old imagining they wanted to get -married. In the darkness and silence Emil was not likely to think -long about Alexandra. Every image slipped away but one. He had -seen Marie in the crowd that afternoon. She sold candy at the -fair. WHY had she ever run away with Frank Shabata, and how could -she go on laughing and working and taking an interest in things? -Why did she like so many people, and why had she seemed pleased when -all the French and Bohemian boys, and the priest himself, crowded -round her candy stand? Why did she care about any one but him? Why -could he never, never find the thing he looked for in her playful, -affectionate eyes? - -Then he fell to imagining that he looked once more and found it -there, and what it would be like if she loved him,--she who, as -Alexandra said, could give her whole heart. In that dream he could -lie for hours, as if in a trance. His spirit went out of his body -and crossed the fields to Marie Shabata. - -At the University dances the girls had often looked wonderingly -at the tall young Swede with the fine head, leaning against the -wall and frowning, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling -or the floor. All the girls were a little afraid of him. He was -distinguished-looking, and not the jollying kind. They felt that -he was too intense and preoccupied. There was something queer about -him. Emil's fraternity rather prided itself upon its dances, and -sometimes he did his duty and danced every dance. But whether he -was on the floor or brooding in a corner, he was always thinking -about Marie Shabata. For two years the storm had been gathering -in him. +ashamed for his sister, though he had tried not to show it. He felt +that there was something indecorous in her proposal, and she did seem +to him somewhat ridiculous. There was trouble enough in the world, he +reflected, as he threw himself upon his bed, without people who were +forty years old imagining they wanted to get married. In the darkness +and silence Emil was not likely to think long about Alexandra. Every +image slipped away but one. He had seen Marie in the crowd that +afternoon. She sold candy at the fair. _Why_ had she ever run away with +Frank Shabata, and how could she go on laughing and working and taking +an interest in things? Why did she like so many people, and why had she +seemed pleased when all the French and Bohemian boys, and the priest +himself, crowded round her candy stand? Why did she care about any one +but him? Why could he never, never find the thing he looked for in her +playful, affectionate eyes? + +Then he fell to imagining that he looked once more and found it there, +and what it would be like if she loved him,—she who, as Alexandra said, +could give her whole heart. In that dream he could lie for hours, as if +in a trance. His spirit went out of his body and crossed the fields to +Marie Shabata. + +At the University dances the girls had often looked wonderingly at the +tall young Swede with the fine head, leaning against the wall and +frowning, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling or the floor. +All the girls were a little afraid of him. He was +distinguished-looking, and not the jollying kind. They felt that he was +too intense and preoccupied. There was something queer about him. +Emil’s fraternity rather prided itself upon its dances, and sometimes +he did his duty and danced every dance. But whether he was on the floor +or brooding in a corner, he was always thinking about Marie Shabata. +For two years the storm had been gathering in him. XII -Carl came into the sitting-room while Alexandra was lighting the -lamp. She looked up at him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp -shoulders stooped as if he were very tired, his face was pale, -and there were bluish shadows under his dark eyes. His anger had -burned itself out and left him sick and disgusted. + +Carl came into the sitting-room while Alexandra was lighting the lamp. +She looked up at him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp shoulders +stooped as if he were very tired, his face was pale, and there were +bluish shadows under his dark eyes. His anger had burned itself out and +left him sick and disgusted. “You have seen Lou and Oscar?” Alexandra asked. “Yes.” His eyes avoided hers. -Alexandra took a deep breath. “And now you are going away. I -thought so.” +Alexandra took a deep breath. “And now you are going away. I thought +so.” -Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed the dark lock back -from his forehead with his white, nervous hand. “What a hopeless -position you are in, Alexandra!” he exclaimed feverishly. “It is -your fate to be always surrounded by little men. And I am no better -than the rest. I am too little to face the criticism of even such -men as Lou and Oscar. Yes, I am going away; to-morrow. I cannot -even ask you to give me a promise until I have something to offer -you. I thought, perhaps, I could do that; but I find I can't.” +Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed the dark lock back from his +forehead with his white, nervous hand. “What a hopeless position you +are in, Alexandra!” he exclaimed feverishly. “It is your fate to be +always surrounded by little men. And I am no better than the rest. I am +too little to face the criticism of even such men as Lou and Oscar. +Yes, I am going away; to-morrow. I cannot even ask you to give me a +promise until I have something to offer you. I thought, perhaps, I +could do that; but I find I can’t.” -“What good comes of offering people things they don't need?” - Alexandra asked sadly. “I don't need money. But I have needed -you for a great many years. I wonder why I have been permitted to -prosper, if it is only to take my friends away from me.” +“What good comes of offering people things they don’t need?” Alexandra +asked sadly. “I don’t need money. But I have needed you for a great +many years. I wonder why I have been permitted to prosper, if it is +only to take my friends away from me.” -“I don't deceive myself,” Carl said frankly. “I know that I am -going away on my own account. I must make the usual effort. I -must have something to show for myself. To take what you would -give me, I should have to be either a very large man or a very -small one, and I am only in the middle class.” +“I don’t deceive myself,” Carl said frankly. “I know that I am going +away on my own account. I must make the usual effort. I must have +something to show for myself. To take what you would give me, I should +have to be either a very large man or a very small one, and I am only +in the middle class.” -Alexandra sighed. “I have a feeling that if you go away, you will -not come back. Something will happen to one of us, or to both. -People have to snatch at happiness when they can, in this world. -It is always easier to lose than to find. What I have is yours, -if you care enough about me to take it.” +Alexandra sighed. “I have a feeling that if you go away, you will not +come back. Something will happen to one of us, or to both. People have +to snatch at happiness when they can, in this world. It is always +easier to lose than to find. What I have is yours, if you care enough +about me to take it.” -Carl rose and looked up at the picture of John Bergson. “But I -can't, my dear, I can't! I will go North at once. Instead of idling -about in California all winter, I shall be getting my bearings up -there. I won't waste another week. Be patient with me, Alexandra. -Give me a year!” +Carl rose and looked up at the picture of John Bergson. “But I can’t, +my dear, I can’t! I will go North at once. Instead of idling about in +California all winter, I shall be getting my bearings up there. I won’t +waste another week. Be patient with me, Alexandra. Give me a year!” -“As you will,” said Alexandra wearily. “All at once, in a single -day, I lose everything; and I do not know why. Emil, too, is going -away.” Carl was still studying John Bergson's face and Alexandra's -eyes followed his. “Yes,” she said, “if he could have seen all -that would come of the task he gave me, he would have been sorry. -I hope he does not see me now. I hope that he is among the old -people of his blood and country, and that tidings do not reach him -from the New World.” +“As you will,” said Alexandra wearily. “All at once, in a single day, I +lose everything; and I do not know why. Emil, too, is going away.” Carl +was still studying John Bergson’s face and Alexandra’s eyes followed +his. “Yes,” she said, “if he could have seen all that would come of the +task he gave me, he would have been sorry. I hope he does not see me +now. I hope that he is among the old people of his blood and country, +and that tidings do not reach him from the New World.” -PART III. Winter Memories +PART III. +Winter Memories I -Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season in -which Nature recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between the -fruitfulness of autumn and the passion of spring. The birds have -gone. The teeming life that goes on down in the long grass is -exterminated. The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run -shivering from one frozen garden patch to another and are hard put -to it to find frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes -roam the wintry waste, howling for food. The variegated fields -are all one color now; the pastures, the stubble, the roads, the -sky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcely -perceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they have taken -on. The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walk -in the roads or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country, -and the spirit is oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One could -easily believe that in that dead landscape the germs of life and -fruitfulness were extinct forever. + +Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season in which +Nature recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between the +fruitfulness of autumn and the passion of spring. The birds have gone. +The teeming life that goes on down in the long grass is exterminated. +The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run shivering from one +frozen garden patch to another and are hard put to it to find +frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes roam the wintry +waste, howling for food. The variegated fields are all one color now; +the pastures, the stubble, the roads, the sky are the same leaden gray. +The hedgerows and trees are scarcely perceptible against the bare +earth, whose slaty hue they have taken on. The ground is frozen so hard +that it bruises the foot to walk in the roads or in the ploughed +fields. It is like an iron country, and the spirit is oppressed by its +rigor and melancholy. One could easily believe that in that dead +landscape the germs of life and fruitfulness were extinct forever. Alexandra has settled back into her old routine. There are weekly -letters from Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl -went away. To avoid awkward encounters in the presence of curious -spectators, she has stopped going to the Norwegian Church and drives -up to the Reform Church at Hanover, or goes with Marie Shabata to -the Catholic Church, locally known as “the French Church.” She has -not told Marie about Carl, or her differences with her brothers. -She was never very communicative about her own affairs, and when -she came to the point, an instinct told her that about such things -she and Marie would not understand one another. +letters from Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl went away. +To avoid awkward encounters in the presence of curious spectators, she +has stopped going to the Norwegian Church and drives up to the Reform +Church at Hanover, or goes with Marie Shabata to the Catholic Church, +locally known as “the French Church.” She has not told Marie about +Carl, or her differences with her brothers. She was never very +communicative about her own affairs, and when she came to the point, an +instinct told her that about such things she and Marie would not +understand one another. Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family misunderstandings might -deprive her of her yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day -of December Alexandra telephoned Annie that to-morrow she would -send Ivar over for her mother, and the next day the old lady arrived -with her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee had always entered -Alexandra's sitting-room with the same exclamation, “Now we be yust-a -like old times!” She enjoyed the liberty Alexandra gave her, and -hearing her own language about her all day long. Here she could -wear her nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, listen -to Ivar reading the Bible, and here she could run about among the -stables in a pair of Emil's old boots. Though she was bent almost -double, she was as spry as a gopher. Her face was as brown as if -it had been varnished, and as full of wrinkles as a washerwoman's -hands. She had three jolly old teeth left in the front of her -mouth, and when she grinned she looked very knowing, as if when -you found out how to take it, life wasn't half bad. While she and -Alexandra patched and pieced and quilted, she talked incessantly -about stories she read in a Swedish family paper, telling the plots -in great detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in Gottland -when she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot which were the printed -stories and which were the real stories, it all seemed so far away. -She loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, before -she went to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. “It +deprive her of her yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day of +December Alexandra telephoned Annie that to-morrow she would send Ivar +over for her mother, and the next day the old lady arrived with her +bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee had always entered Alexandra’s +sitting-room with the same exclamation, “Now we be yust-a like old +times!” She enjoyed the liberty Alexandra gave her, and hearing her own +language about her all day long. Here she could wear her nightcap and +sleep with all her windows shut, listen to Ivar reading the Bible, and +here she could run about among the stables in a pair of Emil’s old +boots. Though she was bent almost double, she was as spry as a gopher. +Her face was as brown as if it had been varnished, and as full of +wrinkles as a washerwoman’s hands. She had three jolly old teeth left +in the front of her mouth, and when she grinned she looked very +knowing, as if when you found out how to take it, life wasn’t half bad. +While she and Alexandra patched and pieced and quilted, she talked +incessantly about stories she read in a Swedish family paper, telling +the plots in great detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in +Gottland when she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot which were the +printed stories and which were the real stories, it all seemed so far +away. She loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, +before she went to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. “It sends good dreams,” she would say with a twinkle in her eye. When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for a week, Marie Shabata -telephoned one morning to say that Frank had gone to town for the -day, and she would like them to come over for coffee in the afternoon. -Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out and iron her new cross-stitched apron, -which she had finished only the night before; a checked gingham -apron worked with a design ten inches broad across the bottom; -a hunting scene, with fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen. -Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and refused a second -helping of apple dumplings. “I ta-ank I save up,” she said with -a giggle. - -At two o'clock in the afternoon Alexandra's cart drove up to the -Shabatas' gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee's red shawl come bobbing up -the path. She ran to the door and pulled the old woman into the -house with a hug, helping her to take off her wraps while Alexandra -blanketed the horse outside. Mrs. Lee had put on her best black -satine dress--she abominated woolen stuffs, even in winter--and -a crocheted collar, fastened with a big pale gold pin, containing -faded daguerreotypes of her father and mother. She had not worn -her apron for fear of rumpling it, and now she shook it out and -tied it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie drew back and -threw up her hands, exclaiming, “Oh, what a beauty! I've never -seen this one before, have I, Mrs. Lee?” - -The old woman giggled and ducked her head. “No, yust las' night I -ma-ake. See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My -sister send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis.” - -Marie ran to the door again. “Come in, Alexandra. I have been -looking at Mrs. Lee's apron. Do stop on your way home and show it -to Mrs. Hiller. She's crazy about cross-stitch.” +telephoned one morning to say that Frank had gone to town for the day, +and she would like them to come over for coffee in the afternoon. Mrs. +Lee hurried to wash out and iron her new cross-stitched apron, which +she had finished only the night before; a checked gingham apron worked +with a design ten inches broad across the bottom; a hunting scene, with +fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen. Mrs. Lee was firm with +herself at dinner, and refused a second helping of apple dumplings. “I +ta-ank I save up,” she said with a giggle. + +At two o’clock in the afternoon Alexandra’s cart drove up to the +Shabatas’ gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee’s red shawl come bobbing up the +path. She ran to the door and pulled the old woman into the house with +a hug, helping her to take off her wraps while Alexandra blanketed the +horse outside. Mrs. Lee had put on her best black satine dress—she +abominated woolen stuffs, even in winter—and a crocheted collar, +fastened with a big pale gold pin, containing faded daguerreotypes of +her father and mother. She had not worn her apron for fear of rumpling +it, and now she shook it out and tied it round her waist with a +conscious air. Marie drew back and threw up her hands, exclaiming, “Oh, +what a beauty! I’ve never seen this one before, have I, Mrs. Lee?” + +The old woman giggled and ducked her head. “No, yust las’ night I +ma-ake. See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My sister +send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis.” + +Marie ran to the door again. “Come in, Alexandra. I have been looking +at Mrs. Lee’s apron. Do stop on your way home and show it to Mrs. +Hiller. She’s crazy about cross-stitch.” While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, Mrs. Lee went out to the kitchen and settled herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove, looking with great interest at the table, set for three, with a white -cloth, and a pot of pink geraniums in the middle. “My, a-an't you -gotta fine plants; such-a much flower. How you keep from freeze?” +cloth, and a pot of pink geraniums in the middle. “My, a-an’t you gotta +fine plants; such-a much flower. How you keep from freeze?” She pointed to the window-shelves, full of blooming fuchsias and geraniums. -“I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it's very cold I put -them all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights I -only put newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing, -but when they don't bloom he says, 'What's the matter with the -darned things?'--What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?” - -“He got to Dawson before the river froze, and now I suppose I won't -hear any more until spring. Before he left California he sent me -a box of orange flowers, but they didn't keep very well. I have -brought a bunch of Emil's letters for you.” Alexandra came out -from the sitting-room and pinched Marie's cheek playfully. “You -don't look as if the weather ever froze you up. Never have colds, -do you? That's a good girl. She had dark red cheeks like this -when she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She looked like some queer -foreign kind of a doll. I've never forgot the first time I saw -you in Mieklejohn's store, Marie, the time father was lying sick. -Carl and I were talking about that before he went away.” - -“I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. When are you going to -send Emil's Christmas box?” - -“It ought to have gone before this. I'll have to send it by mail -now, to get it there in time.” - -Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbasket. “I -knit this for him. It's a good color, don't you think? Will you -please put it in with your things and tell him it's from me, to -wear when he goes serenading.” - -Alexandra laughed. “I don't believe he goes serenading much. He -says in one letter that the Mexican ladies are said to be very -beautiful, but that don't seem to me very warm praise.” - -Marie tossed her head. “Emil can't fool me. If he's bought a -guitar, he goes serenading. Who wouldn't, with all those Spanish -girls dropping flowers down from their windows! I'd sing to them -every night, wouldn't you, Mrs. Lee?” - -The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent down and -opened the oven door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the -tidy kitchen. “My, somet'ing smell good!” She turned to Alexandra -with a wink, her three yellow teeth making a brave show, “I ta-ank -dat stop my yaw from ache no more!” she said contentedly. +“I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it’s very cold I put +them all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights I only +put newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing, but when +they don’t bloom he says, ‘What’s the matter with the darned +things?’—What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?” + +“He got to Dawson before the river froze, and now I suppose I won’t +hear any more until spring. Before he left California he sent me a box +of orange flowers, but they didn’t keep very well. I have brought a +bunch of Emil’s letters for you.” Alexandra came out from the +sitting-room and pinched Marie’s cheek playfully. “You don’t look as if +the weather ever froze you up. Never have colds, do you? That’s a good +girl. She had dark red cheeks like this when she was a little girl, +Mrs. Lee. She looked like some queer foreign kind of a doll. I’ve never +forgot the first time I saw you in Mieklejohn’s store, Marie, the time +father was lying sick. Carl and I were talking about that before he +went away.” + +“I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. When are you going to send +Emil’s Christmas box?” + +“It ought to have gone before this. I’ll have to send it by mail now, +to get it there in time.” + +Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbasket. “I knit +this for him. It’s a good color, don’t you think? Will you please put +it in with your things and tell him it’s from me, to wear when he goes +serenading.” + +Alexandra laughed. “I don’t believe he goes serenading much. He says in +one letter that the Mexican ladies are said to be very beautiful, but +that don’t seem to me very warm praise.” + +Marie tossed her head. “Emil can’t fool me. If he’s bought a guitar, he +goes serenading. Who wouldn’t, with all those Spanish girls dropping +flowers down from their windows! I’d sing to them every night, wouldn’t +you, Mrs. Lee?” + +The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent down and opened +the oven door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the tidy +kitchen. “My, somet’ing smell good!” She turned to Alexandra with a +wink, her three yellow teeth making a brave show, “I ta-ank dat stop my +yaw from ache no more!” she said contentedly. Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, stuffed with stewed apricots, and began to dust them over with powdered sugar. “I hope -you'll like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians always -like them with their coffee. But if you don't, I have a coffee-cake -with nuts and poppy seeds. Alexandra, will you get the cream jug? -I put it in the window to keep cool.” +you’ll like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians always like +them with their coffee. But if you don’t, I have a coffee-cake with +nuts and poppy seeds. Alexandra, will you get the cream jug? I put it +in the window to keep cool.” “The Bohemians,” said Alexandra, as they drew up to the table, -“certainly know how to make more kinds of bread than any other -people in the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the church -supper that she could make seven kinds of fancy bread, but Marie -could make a dozen.” - -Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumb -and forefinger and weighed it critically. “Yust like-a fedders,” - she pronounced with satisfaction. “My, a-an't dis nice!” she -exclaimed as she stirred her coffee. “I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly -now, too, I ta-ank.” - -Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell to -talking of their own affairs. “I was afraid you had a cold when -I talked to you over the telephone the other night, Marie. What -was the matter, had you been crying?” - -“Maybe I had,” Marie smiled guiltily. “Frank was out late that -night. Don't you get lonely sometimes in the winter, when everybody -has gone away?” - -“I thought it was something like that. If I hadn't had company, -I'd have run over to see for myself. If you get down-hearted, what -will become of the rest of us?” Alexandra asked. - -“I don't, very often. There's Mrs. Lee without any coffee!” - -Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marie -and Alexandra went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the -old lady wanted to borrow. “Better put on your coat, Alexandra. -It's cold up there, and I have no idea where those patterns are. I -may have to look through my old trunks.” Marie caught up a shawl -and opened the stair door, running up the steps ahead of her guest. -“While I go through the bureau drawers, you might look in those -hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over where Frank's clothes hang. -There are a lot of odds and ends in them.” - -She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandra -went into the clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding a -slender elastic yellow stick in her hand. - -“What in the world is this, Marie? You don't mean to tell me Frank -ever carried such a thing?” - -Marie blinked at it with astonishment and sat down on the floor. -“Where did you find it? I didn't know he had kept it. I haven't -seen it for years.” +“certainly know how to make more kinds of bread than any other people +in the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the church supper that +she could make seven kinds of fancy bread, but Marie could make a +dozen.” + +Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumb and +forefinger and weighed it critically. “Yust like-a fedders,” she +pronounced with satisfaction. “My, a-an’t dis nice!” she exclaimed as +she stirred her coffee. “I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly now, too, I +ta-ank.” + +Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell to talking +of their own affairs. “I was afraid you had a cold when I talked to you +over the telephone the other night, Marie. What was the matter, had you +been crying?” + +“Maybe I had,” Marie smiled guiltily. “Frank was out late that night. +Don’t you get lonely sometimes in the winter, when everybody has gone +away?” + +“I thought it was something like that. If I hadn’t had company, I’d +have run over to see for myself. If you get down-hearted, what will +become of the rest of us?” Alexandra asked. + +“I don’t, very often. There’s Mrs. Lee without any coffee!” + +Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marie and +Alexandra went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the old lady +wanted to borrow. “Better put on your coat, Alexandra. It’s cold up +there, and I have no idea where those patterns are. I may have to look +through my old trunks.” Marie caught up a shawl and opened the stair +door, running up the steps ahead of her guest. “While I go through the +bureau drawers, you might look in those hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, +over where Frank’s clothes hang. There are a lot of odds and ends in +them.” + +She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandra went +into the clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding a slender +elastic yellow stick in her hand. + +“What in the world is this, Marie? You don’t mean to tell me Frank ever +carried such a thing?” + +Marie blinked at it with astonishment and sat down on the floor. “Where +did you find it? I didn’t know he had kept it. I haven’t seen it for +years.” “It really is a cane, then?” -“Yes. One he brought from the old country. He used to carry it -when I first knew him. Isn't it foolish? Poor Frank!” +“Yes. One he brought from the old country. He used to carry it when I +first knew him. Isn’t it foolish? Poor Frank!” -Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. “He must -have looked funny!” +Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. “He must have +looked funny!” -Marie was thoughtful. “No, he didn't, really. It didn't seem out -of place. He used to be awfully gay like that when he was a young -man. I guess people always get what's hardest for them, Alexandra.” - Marie gathered the shawl closer about her and still looked hard at -the cane. “Frank would be all right in the right place,” she said -reflectively. “He ought to have a different kind of wife, for one -thing. Do you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly the right -sort of woman for Frank--now. The trouble is you almost have -to marry a man before you can find out the sort of wife he needs; -and usually it's exactly the sort you are not. Then what are you -going to do about it?” she asked candidly. +Marie was thoughtful. “No, he didn’t, really. It didn’t seem out of +place. He used to be awfully gay like that when he was a young man. I +guess people always get what’s hardest for them, Alexandra.” Marie +gathered the shawl closer about her and still looked hard at the cane. +“Frank would be all right in the right place,” she said reflectively. +“He ought to have a different kind of wife, for one thing. Do you know, +Alexandra, I could pick out exactly the right sort of woman for +Frank—now. The trouble is you almost have to marry a man before you can +find out the sort of wife he needs; and usually it’s exactly the sort +you are not. Then what are you going to do about it?” she asked +candidly. -Alexandra confessed she didn't know. “However,” she added, “it -seems to me that you get along with Frank about as well as any -woman I've ever seen or heard of could.” +Alexandra confessed she didn’t know. “However,” she added, “it seems to +me that you get along with Frank about as well as any woman I’ve ever +seen or heard of could.” Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and blowing her warm breath -softly out into the frosty air. “No; I was spoiled at home. I -like my own way, and I have a quick tongue. When Frank brags, I -say sharp things, and he never forgets. He goes over and over it -in his mind; I can feel him. Then I'm too giddy. Frank's wife -ought to be timid, and she ought not to care about another living -thing in the world but just Frank! I didn't, when I married him, -but I suppose I was too young to stay like that.” Marie sighed. +softly out into the frosty air. “No; I was spoiled at home. I like my +own way, and I have a quick tongue. When Frank brags, I say sharp +things, and he never forgets. He goes over and over it in his mind; I +can feel him. Then I’m too giddy. Frank’s wife ought to be timid, and +she ought not to care about another living thing in the world but just +Frank! I didn’t, when I married him, but I suppose I was too young to +stay like that.” Marie sighed. Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so frankly about her husband -before, and she felt that it was wiser not to encourage her. No -good, she reasoned, ever came from talking about such things, and -while Marie was thinking aloud, Alexandra had been steadily searching -the hat-boxes. “Aren't these the patterns, Maria?” +before, and she felt that it was wiser not to encourage her. No good, +she reasoned, ever came from talking about such things, and while Marie +was thinking aloud, Alexandra had been steadily searching the +hat-boxes. “Aren’t these the patterns, Maria?” -Maria sprang up from the floor. “Sure enough, we were looking -for patterns, weren't we? I'd forgot about everything but Frank's -other wife. I'll put that away.” +Maria sprang up from the floor. “Sure enough, we were looking for +patterns, weren’t we? I’d forgot about everything but Frank’s other +wife. I’ll put that away.” -She poked the cane behind Frank's Sunday clothes, and though she +She poked the cane behind Frank’s Sunday clothes, and though she laughed, Alexandra saw there were tears in her eyes. -When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall, -and Marie's visitors thought they must be getting home. She went -out to the cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs. -Lee while Alexandra took the blanket off her horse. As they drove -away, Marie turned and went slowly back to the house. She took up -the package of letters Alexandra had brought, but she did not read -them. She turned them over and looked at the foreign stamps, and -then sat watching the flying snow while the dusk deepened in the -kitchen and the stove sent out a red glow. - -Marie knew perfectly well that Emil's letters were written more for -her than for Alexandra. They were not the sort of letters that a -young man writes to his sister. They were both more personal and -more painstaking; full of descriptions of the gay life in the old -Mexican capital in the days when the strong hand of Porfirio Diaz -was still strong. He told about bull-fights and cock-fights, -churches and FIESTAS, the flower-markets and the fountains, the -music and dancing, the people of all nations he met in the Italian -restaurants on San Francisco Street. In short, they were the kind -of letters a young man writes to a woman when he wishes himself -and his life to seem interesting to her, when he wishes to enlist -her imagination in his behalf. - -Marie, when she was alone or when she sat sewing in the evening, -often thought about what it must be like down there where Emil was; -where there were flowers and street bands everywhere, and carriages -rattling up and down, and where there was a little blind boot-black -in front of the cathedral who could play any tune you asked for -by dropping the lids of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When -everything is done and over for one at twenty-three, it is pleasant -to let the mind wander forth and follow a young adventurer who has -life before him. “And if it had not been for me,” she thought, -“Frank might still be free like that, and having a good time making -people admire him. Poor Frank, getting married wasn't very good -for him either. I'm afraid I do set people against him, as he says. -I seem, somehow, to give him away all the time. Perhaps he would -try to be agreeable to people again, if I were not around. It -seems as if I always make him just as bad as he can be.” - -Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon as -the last satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After that -day the younger woman seemed to shrink more and more into herself. -When she was with Alexandra she was not spontaneous and frank -as she used to be. She seemed to be brooding over something, and -holding something back. The weather had a good deal to do with -their seeing less of each other than usual. There had not been -such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path across the fields was -drifted deep from Christmas until March. When the two neighbors -went to see each other, they had to go round by the wagon-road, -which was twice as far. They telephoned each other almost every -night, though in January there was a stretch of three weeks when +When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall, and +Marie’s visitors thought they must be getting home. She went out to the +cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs. Lee while Alexandra +took the blanket off her horse. As they drove away, Marie turned and +went slowly back to the house. She took up the package of letters +Alexandra had brought, but she did not read them. She turned them over +and looked at the foreign stamps, and then sat watching the flying snow +while the dusk deepened in the kitchen and the stove sent out a red +glow. + +Marie knew perfectly well that Emil’s letters were written more for her +than for Alexandra. They were not the sort of letters that a young man +writes to his sister. They were both more personal and more +painstaking; full of descriptions of the gay life in the old Mexican +capital in the days when the strong hand of Porfirio Diaz was still +strong. He told about bull-fights and cock-fights, churches and +_fiestas_, the flower-markets and the fountains, the music and dancing, +the people of all nations he met in the Italian restaurants on San +Francisco Street. In short, they were the kind of letters a young man +writes to a woman when he wishes himself and his life to seem +interesting to her, when he wishes to enlist her imagination in his +behalf. + +Marie, when she was alone or when she sat sewing in the evening, often +thought about what it must be like down there where Emil was; where +there were flowers and street bands everywhere, and carriages rattling +up and down, and where there was a little blind boot-black in front of +the cathedral who could play any tune you asked for by dropping the +lids of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When everything is done and +over for one at twenty-three, it is pleasant to let the mind wander +forth and follow a young adventurer who has life before him. “And if it +had not been for me,” she thought, “Frank might still be free like +that, and having a good time making people admire him. Poor Frank, +getting married wasn’t very good for him either. I’m afraid I do set +people against him, as he says. I seem, somehow, to give him away all +the time. Perhaps he would try to be agreeable to people again, if I +were not around. It seems as if I always make him just as bad as he can +be.” + +Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon as the +last satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After that day the +younger woman seemed to shrink more and more into herself. When she was +with Alexandra she was not spontaneous and frank as she used to be. She +seemed to be brooding over something, and holding something back. The +weather had a good deal to do with their seeing less of each other than +usual. There had not been such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path +across the fields was drifted deep from Christmas until March. When the +two neighbors went to see each other, they had to go round by the +wagon-road, which was twice as far. They telephoned each other almost +every night, though in January there was a stretch of three weeks when the wires were down, and when the postman did not come at all. -Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. Hiller, -who was crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lame -shoemaker, to take care of her; and she went to the French Church, -whatever the weather. She was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed -for herself and for Frank, and for Emil, among the temptations of -that gay, corrupt old city. She found more comfort in the Church -that winter than ever before. It seemed to come closer to her, -and to fill an emptiness that ached in her heart. She tried to -be patient with her husband. He and his hired man usually played -California Jack in the evening. Marie sat sewing or crocheting and -tried to take a friendly interest in the game, but she was always -thinking about the wide fields outside, where the snow was drifting -over the fences; and about the orchard, where the snow was falling -and packing, crust over crust. When she went out into the dark -kitchen to fix her plants for the night, she used to stand by the -window and look out at the white fields, or watch the currents of -snow whirling over the orchard. She seemed to feel the weight of -all the snow that lay down there. The branches had become so hard -that they wounded your hand if you but tried to break a twig. And -yet, down under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, the -secret of life was still safe, warm as the blood in one's heart; -and the spring would come again! Oh, it would come again! +Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. Hiller, who +was crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lame shoemaker, +to take care of her; and she went to the French Church, whatever the +weather. She was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed for herself and +for Frank, and for Emil, among the temptations of that gay, corrupt old +city. She found more comfort in the Church that winter than ever +before. It seemed to come closer to her, and to fill an emptiness that +ached in her heart. She tried to be patient with her husband. He and +his hired man usually played California Jack in the evening. Marie sat +sewing or crocheting and tried to take a friendly interest in the game, +but she was always thinking about the wide fields outside, where the +snow was drifting over the fences; and about the orchard, where the +snow was falling and packing, crust over crust. When she went out into +the dark kitchen to fix her plants for the night, she used to stand by +the window and look out at the white fields, or watch the currents of +snow whirling over the orchard. She seemed to feel the weight of all +the snow that lay down there. The branches had become so hard that they +wounded your hand if you but tried to break a twig. And yet, down under +the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, the secret of life was +still safe, warm as the blood in one’s heart; and the spring would come +again! Oh, it would come again! II -If Alexandra had had much imagination she might have guessed what -was going on in Marie's mind, and she would have seen long before -what was going on in Emil's. But that, as Emil himself had more -than once reflected, was Alexandra's blind side, and her life had -not been of the kind to sharpen her vision. Her training had all -been toward the end of making her proficient in what she had undertaken -to do. Her personal life, her own realization of herself, was -almost a subconscious existence; like an underground river that -came to the surface only here and there, at intervals months apart, -and then sank again to flow on under her own fields. Nevertheless, -the underground stream was there, and it was because she had so much -personality to put into her enterprises and succeeded in putting -it into them so completely, that her affairs prospered better than -those of her neighbors. + +If Alexandra had had much imagination she might have guessed what was +going on in Marie’s mind, and she would have seen long before what was +going on in Emil’s. But that, as Emil himself had more than once +reflected, was Alexandra’s blind side, and her life had not been of the +kind to sharpen her vision. Her training had all been toward the end of +making her proficient in what she had undertaken to do. Her personal +life, her own realization of herself, was almost a subconscious +existence; like an underground river that came to the surface only here +and there, at intervals months apart, and then sank again to flow on +under her own fields. Nevertheless, the underground stream was there, +and it was because she had so much personality to put into her +enterprises and succeeded in putting it into them so completely, that +her affairs prospered better than those of her neighbors. There were certain days in her life, outwardly uneventful, which -Alexandra remembered as peculiarly happy; days when she was close -to the flat, fallow world about her, and felt, as it were, in her -own body the joyous germination in the soil. There were days, -too, which she and Emil had spent together, upon which she loved -to look back. There had been such a day when they were down on -the river in the dry year, looking over the land. They had made -an early start one morning and had driven a long way before noon. -When Emil said he was hungry, they drew back from the road, gave -Brigham his oats among the bushes, and climbed up to the top of a -grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the shade of some little elm -trees. The river was clear there, and shallow, since there had -been no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling sand. Under -the overhanging willows of the opposite bank there was an inlet where -the water was deeper and flowed so slowly that it seemed to sleep +Alexandra remembered as peculiarly happy; days when she was close to +the flat, fallow world about her, and felt, as it were, in her own body +the joyous germination in the soil. There were days, too, which she and +Emil had spent together, upon which she loved to look back. There had +been such a day when they were down on the river in the dry year, +looking over the land. They had made an early start one morning and had +driven a long way before noon. When Emil said he was hungry, they drew +back from the road, gave Brigham his oats among the bushes, and climbed +up to the top of a grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the shade of +some little elm trees. The river was clear there, and shallow, since +there had been no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling sand. +Under the overhanging willows of the opposite bank there was an inlet +where the water was deeper and flowed so slowly that it seemed to sleep in the sun. In this little bay a single wild duck was swimming and -diving and preening her feathers, disporting herself very happily -in the flickering light and shade. They sat for a long time, -watching the solitary bird take its pleasure. No living thing -had ever seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild duck. Emil -must have felt about it as she did, for afterward, when they were -at home, he used sometimes to say, “Sister, you know our duck down -there--” Alexandra remembered that day as one of the happiest in -her life. Years afterward she thought of the duck as still there, -swimming and diving all by herself in the sunlight, a kind of -enchanted bird that did not know age or change. - -Most of Alexandra's happy memories were as impersonal as this one; -yet to her they were very personal. Her mind was a white book, -with clear writing about weather and beasts and growing things. -Not many people would have cared to read it; only a happy few. -She had never been in love, she had never indulged in sentimental -reveries. Even as a girl she had looked upon men as work-fellows. -She had grown up in serious times. - -There was one fancy indeed, which persisted through her girlhood. -It most often came to her on Sunday mornings, the one day in -the week when she lay late abed listening to the familiar morning -sounds; the windmill singing in the brisk breeze, Emil whistling -as he blacked his boots down by the kitchen door. Sometimes, as -she lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes closed, she used to have -an illusion of being lifted up bodily and carried lightly by some -one very strong. It was a man, certainly, who carried her, but -he was like no man she knew; he was much larger and stronger and -swifter, and he carried her as easily as if she were a sheaf of -wheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes closed, she could feel -that he was yellow like the sunlight, and there was the smell of -ripe cornfields about him. She could feel him approach, bend over -her and lift her, and then she could feel herself being carried +diving and preening her feathers, disporting herself very happily in +the flickering light and shade. They sat for a long time, watching the +solitary bird take its pleasure. No living thing had ever seemed to +Alexandra as beautiful as that wild duck. Emil must have felt about it +as she did, for afterward, when they were at home, he used sometimes to +say, “Sister, you know our duck down there—” Alexandra remembered that +day as one of the happiest in her life. Years afterward she thought of +the duck as still there, swimming and diving all by herself in the +sunlight, a kind of enchanted bird that did not know age or change. + +Most of Alexandra’s happy memories were as impersonal as this one; yet +to her they were very personal. Her mind was a white book, with clear +writing about weather and beasts and growing things. Not many people +would have cared to read it; only a happy few. She had never been in +love, she had never indulged in sentimental reveries. Even as a girl +she had looked upon men as work-fellows. She had grown up in serious +times. + +There was one fancy indeed, which persisted through her girlhood. It +most often came to her on Sunday mornings, the one day in the week when +she lay late abed listening to the familiar morning sounds; the +windmill singing in the brisk breeze, Emil whistling as he blacked his +boots down by the kitchen door. Sometimes, as she lay thus luxuriously +idle, her eyes closed, she used to have an illusion of being lifted up +bodily and carried lightly by some one very strong. It was a man, +certainly, who carried her, but he was like no man she knew; he was +much larger and stronger and swifter, and he carried her as easily as +if she were a sheaf of wheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes closed, +she could feel that he was yellow like the sunlight, and there was the +smell of ripe cornfields about him. She could feel him approach, bend +over her and lift her, and then she could feel herself being carried swiftly off across the fields. After such a reverie she would rise -hastily, angry with herself, and go down to the bath-house that -was partitioned off the kitchen shed. There she would stand in a -tin tub and prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by pouring -buckets of cold well-water over her gleaming white body which no -man on the Divide could have carried very far. +hastily, angry with herself, and go down to the bath-house that was +partitioned off the kitchen shed. There she would stand in a tin tub +and prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by pouring buckets of +cold well-water over her gleaming white body which no man on the Divide +could have carried very far. -As she grew older, this fancy more often came to her when she was -tired than when she was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had -been in the open all day, overseeing the branding of the cattle or -the loading of the pigs, she would come in chilled, take a concoction -of spices and warm home-made wine, and go to bed with her body -actually aching with fatigue. Then, just before she went to sleep, -she had the old sensation of being lifted and carried by a strong -being who took from her all her bodily weariness. +As she grew older, this fancy more often came to her when she was tired +than when she was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had been in +the open all day, overseeing the branding of the cattle or the loading +of the pigs, she would come in chilled, take a concoction of spices and +warm home-made wine, and go to bed with her body actually aching with +fatigue. Then, just before she went to sleep, she had the old sensation +of being lifted and carried by a strong being who took from her all her +bodily weariness. -PART IV. The White Mulberry Tree +PART IV. +The White Mulberry Tree I -The French Church, properly the Church of Sainte-Agnes, stood -upon a hill. The high, narrow, red-brick building, with its tall -steeple and steep roof, could be seen for miles across the wheatfields, -though the little town of Sainte-Agnes was completely hidden away -at the foot of the hill. The church looked powerful and triumphant -there on its eminence, so high above the rest of the landscape, -with miles of warm color lying at its feet, and by its position and -setting it reminded one of some of the churches built long ago in -the wheat-lands of middle France. - -Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson was driving along one -of the many roads that led through the rich French farming country -to the big church. The sunlight was shining directly in her face, -and there was a blaze of light all about the red church on the -hill. Beside Alexandra lounged a strikingly exotic figure in a -tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, and a black velvet jacket sewn with -silver buttons. Emil had returned only the night before, and his -sister was so proud of him that she decided at once to take him up -to the church supper, and to make him wear the Mexican costume he -had brought home in his trunk. “All the girls who have stands are -going to wear fancy costumes,” she argued, “and some of the boys. -Marie is going to tell fortunes, and she sent to Omaha for a Bohemian -dress her father brought back from a visit to the old country. -If you wear those clothes, they will all be pleased. And you must -take your guitar. Everybody ought to do what they can to help + +The French Church, properly the Church of Sainte-Agnes, stood upon a +hill. The high, narrow, red-brick building, with its tall steeple and +steep roof, could be seen for miles across the wheatfields, though the +little town of Sainte-Agnes was completely hidden away at the foot of +the hill. The church looked powerful and triumphant there on its +eminence, so high above the rest of the landscape, with miles of warm +color lying at its feet, and by its position and setting it reminded +one of some of the churches built long ago in the wheat-lands of middle +France. + +Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson was driving along one of the +many roads that led through the rich French farming country to the big +church. The sunlight was shining directly in her face, and there was a +blaze of light all about the red church on the hill. Beside Alexandra +lounged a strikingly exotic figure in a tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, +and a black velvet jacket sewn with silver buttons. Emil had returned +only the night before, and his sister was so proud of him that she +decided at once to take him up to the church supper, and to make him +wear the Mexican costume he had brought home in his trunk. “All the +girls who have stands are going to wear fancy costumes,” she argued, +“and some of the boys. Marie is going to tell fortunes, and she sent to +Omaha for a Bohemian dress her father brought back from a visit to the +old country. If you wear those clothes, they will all be pleased. And +you must take your guitar. Everybody ought to do what they can to help along, and we have never done much. We are not a talented family.” -The supper was to be at six o'clock, in the basement of the church, -and afterward there would be a fair, with charades and an auction. -Alexandra had set out from home early, leaving the house to Signa -and Nelse Jensen, who were to be married next week. Signa had -shyly asked to have the wedding put off until Emil came home. - -Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. As they drove -through the rolling French country toward the westering sun and the -stalwart church, she was thinking of that time long ago when she -and Emil drove back from the river valley to the still unconquered -Divide. Yes, she told herself, it had been worth while; both Emil -and the country had become what she had hoped. Out of her father's -children there was one who was fit to cope with the world, who had -not been tied to the plow, and who had a personality apart from the -soil. And that, she reflected, was what she had worked for. She -felt well satisfied with her life. - -When they reached the church, a score of teams were hitched in -front of the basement doors that opened from the hillside upon the -sanded terrace, where the boys wrestled and had jumping-matches. -Amedee Chevalier, a proud father of one week, rushed out and -embraced Emil. Amedee was an only son,--hence he was a very rich -young man,--but he meant to have twenty children himself, like -his uncle Xavier. “Oh, Emil,” he cried, hugging his old friend -rapturously, “why ain't you been up to see my boy? You come -to-morrow, sure? Emil, you wanna get a boy right off! It's the -greatest thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick at all. Everything -just fine. That boy he come into this world laughin', and he been -laughin' ever since. You come an' see!” He pounded Emil's ribs -to emphasize each announcement. - -Emil caught his arms. “Stop, Amedee. You're knocking the wind out -of me. I brought him cups and spoons and blankets and moccasins -enough for an orphan asylum. I'm awful glad it's a boy, sure -enough!” - -The young men crowded round Emil to admire his costume and to tell -him in a breath everything that had happened since he went away. -Emil had more friends up here in the French country than down on -Norway Creek. The French and Bohemian boys were spirited and jolly, -liked variety, and were as much predisposed to favor anything new -as the Scandinavian boys were to reject it. The Norwegian and -Swedish lads were much more self-centred, apt to be egotistical -and jealous. They were cautious and reserved with Emil because he -had been away to college, and were prepared to take him down if he -should try to put on airs with them. The French boys liked a bit -of swagger, and they were always delighted to hear about anything -new: new clothes, new games, new songs, new dances. Now they -carried Emil off to show him the club room they had just fitted up -over the post-office, down in the village. They ran down the hill -in a drove, all laughing and chattering at once, some in French, -some in English. - -Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed basement where the women -were setting the tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building -a little tent of shawls where she was to tell fortunes. She sprang -down and ran toward Alexandra, stopping short and looking at her -in disappointment. Alexandra nodded to her encouragingly. - -“Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have taken him off to show -him something. You won't know him. He is a man now, sure enough. -I have no boy left. He smokes terrible-smelling Mexican cigarettes -and talks Spanish. How pretty you look, child. Where did you get -those beautiful earrings?” - -“They belonged to father's mother. He always promised them to me. -He sent them with the dress and said I could keep them.” - -Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven cloth, a white bodice -and kirtle, a yellow silk turban wound low over her brown curls, -and long coral pendants in her ears. Her ears had been pierced -against a piece of cork by her great-aunt when she was seven years -old. In those germless days she had worn bits of broom-straw, plucked -from the common sweeping-broom, in the lobes until the holes were -healed and ready for little gold rings. +The supper was to be at six o’clock, in the basement of the church, and +afterward there would be a fair, with charades and an auction. +Alexandra had set out from home early, leaving the house to Signa and +Nelse Jensen, who were to be married next week. Signa had shyly asked +to have the wedding put off until Emil came home. + +Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. As they drove through +the rolling French country toward the westering sun and the stalwart +church, she was thinking of that time long ago when she and Emil drove +back from the river valley to the still unconquered Divide. Yes, she +told herself, it had been worth while; both Emil and the country had +become what she had hoped. Out of her father’s children there was one +who was fit to cope with the world, who had not been tied to the plow, +and who had a personality apart from the soil. And that, she reflected, +was what she had worked for. She felt well satisfied with her life. + +When they reached the church, a score of teams were hitched in front of +the basement doors that opened from the hillside upon the sanded +terrace, where the boys wrestled and had jumping-matches. Amédée +Chevalier, a proud father of one week, rushed out and embraced Emil. +Amédée was an only son,—hence he was a very rich young man,—but he +meant to have twenty children himself, like his uncle Xavier. “Oh, +Emil,” he cried, hugging his old friend rapturously, “why ain’t you +been up to see my boy? You come to-morrow, sure? Emil, you wanna get a +boy right off! It’s the greatest thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick +at all. Everything just fine. That boy he come into this world +laughin’, and he been laughin’ ever since. You come an’ see!” He +pounded Emil’s ribs to emphasize each announcement. + +Emil caught his arms. “Stop, Amédée. You’re knocking the wind out of +me. I brought him cups and spoons and blankets and moccasins enough for +an orphan asylum. I’m awful glad it’s a boy, sure enough!” + +The young men crowded round Emil to admire his costume and to tell him +in a breath everything that had happened since he went away. Emil had +more friends up here in the French country than down on Norway Creek. +The French and Bohemian boys were spirited and jolly, liked variety, +and were as much predisposed to favor anything new as the Scandinavian +boys were to reject it. The Norwegian and Swedish lads were much more +self-centred, apt to be egotistical and jealous. They were cautious and +reserved with Emil because he had been away to college, and were +prepared to take him down if he should try to put on airs with them. +The French boys liked a bit of swagger, and they were always delighted +to hear about anything new: new clothes, new games, new songs, new +dances. Now they carried Emil off to show him the club room they had +just fitted up over the post-office, down in the village. They ran down +the hill in a drove, all laughing and chattering at once, some in +French, some in English. + +Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed basement where the women were +setting the tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building a little +tent of shawls where she was to tell fortunes. She sprang down and ran +toward Alexandra, stopping short and looking at her in disappointment. +Alexandra nodded to her encouragingly. + +“Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have taken him off to show him +something. You won’t know him. He is a man now, sure enough. I have no +boy left. He smokes terrible-smelling Mexican cigarettes and talks +Spanish. How pretty you look, child. Where did you get those beautiful +earrings?” + +“They belonged to father’s mother. He always promised them to me. He +sent them with the dress and said I could keep them.” + +Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven cloth, a white bodice and +kirtle, a yellow silk turban wound low over her brown curls, and long +coral pendants in her ears. Her ears had been pierced against a piece +of cork by her great-aunt when she was seven years old. In those +germless days she had worn bits of broom-straw, plucked from the common +sweeping-broom, in the lobes until the holes were healed and ready for +little gold rings. When Emil came back from the village, he lingered outside on the -terrace with the boys. Marie could hear him talking and strumming -on his guitar while Raoul Marcel sang falsetto. She was vexed -with him for staying out there. It made her very nervous to hear -him and not to see him; for, certainly, she told herself, she was -not going out to look for him. When the supper bell rang and the -boys came trooping in to get seats at the first table, she forgot -all about her annoyance and ran to greet the tallest of the crowd, -in his conspicuous attire. She didn't mind showing her embarrassment -at all. She blushed and laughed excitedly as she gave Emil her -hand, and looked delightedly at the black velvet coat that brought -out his fair skin and fine blond head. Marie was incapable of being -lukewarm about anything that pleased her. She simply did not know -how to give a half-hearted response. When she was delighted, she -was as likely as not to stand on her tip-toes and clap her hands. -If people laughed at her, she laughed with them. +terrace with the boys. Marie could hear him talking and strumming on +his guitar while Raoul Marcel sang falsetto. She was vexed with him for +staying out there. It made her very nervous to hear him and not to see +him; for, certainly, she told herself, she was not going out to look +for him. When the supper bell rang and the boys came trooping in to get +seats at the first table, she forgot all about her annoyance and ran to +greet the tallest of the crowd, in his conspicuous attire. She didn’t +mind showing her embarrassment at all. She blushed and laughed +excitedly as she gave Emil her hand, and looked delightedly at the +black velvet coat that brought out his fair skin and fine blond head. +Marie was incapable of being lukewarm about anything that pleased her. +She simply did not know how to give a half-hearted response. When she +was delighted, she was as likely as not to stand on her tip-toes and +clap her hands. If people laughed at her, she laughed with them. “Do the men wear clothes like that every day, in the street?” She caught Emil by his sleeve and turned him about. “Oh, I wish I lived -where people wore things like that! Are the buttons real silver? -Put on the hat, please. What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear -it? Why don't you tell us about the bull-fights?” +where people wore things like that! Are the buttons real silver? Put on +the hat, please. What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear it? Why don’t +you tell us about the bull-fights?” She wanted to wring all his experiences from him at once, without -waiting a moment. Emil smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at -her with his old, brooding gaze, while the French girls fluttered -about him in their white dresses and ribbons, and Alexandra watched -the scene with pride. Several of the French girls, Marie knew, were -hoping that Emil would take them to supper, and she was relieved -when he took only his sister. Marie caught Frank's arm and dragged -him to the same table, managing to get seats opposite the Bergsons, -so that she could hear what they were talking about. Alexandra -made Emil tell Mrs. Xavier Chevalier, the mother of the twenty, -about how he had seen a famous matador killed in the bull-ring. -Marie listened to every word, only taking her eyes from Emil to -watch Frank's plate and keep it filled. When Emil finished his -account,--bloody enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier and to make her -feel thankful that she was not a matador,--Marie broke out with -a volley of questions. How did the women dress when they went to -bull-fights? Did they wear mantillas? Did they never wear hats? - -After supper the young people played charades for the amusement -of their elders, who sat gossiping between their guesses. All the -shops in Sainte-Agnes were closed at eight o'clock that night, so -that the merchants and their clerks could attend the fair. The -auction was the liveliest part of the entertainment, for the French -boys always lost their heads when they began to bid, satisfied that -their extravagance was in a good cause. After all the pincushions -and sofa pillows and embroidered slippers were sold, Emil precipitated -a panic by taking out one of his turquoise shirt studs, which every -one had been admiring, and handing it to the auctioneer. All the -French girls clamored for it, and their sweethearts bid against -each other recklessly. Marie wanted it, too, and she kept making -signals to Frank, which he took a sour pleasure in disregarding. -He didn't see the use of making a fuss over a fellow just because -he was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise went to Malvina -Sauvage, the French banker's daughter, Marie shrugged her shoulders -and betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where she began -to shuffle her cards by the light of a tallow candle, calling out, -“Fortunes, fortunes!” - -The young priest, Father Duchesne, went first to have his fortune -read. Marie took his long white hand, looked at it, and then -began to run off her cards. “I see a long journey across water for -you, Father. You will go to a town all cut up by water; built on -islands, it seems to be, with rivers and green fields all about. -And you will visit an old lady with a white cap and gold hoops in -her ears, and you will be very happy there.” - -“Mais, oui,” said the priest, with a melancholy smile. “C'est -L'Isle-Adam, chez ma mere. Vous etes tres savante, ma fille.” He -patted her yellow turban, calling, “Venez donc, mes garcons! Il -y a ici une veritable clairvoyante!” - -Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulging in a light irony -that amused the crowd. She told old Brunot, the miser, that he -would lose all his money, marry a girl of sixteen, and live happily -on a crust. Sholte, the fat Russian boy, who lived for his stomach, -was to be disappointed in love, grow thin, and shoot himself from -despondency. Amedee was to have twenty children, and nineteen of -them were to be girls. Amedee slapped Frank on the back and asked -him why he didn't see what the fortune-teller would promise him. -But Frank shook off his friendly hand and grunted, “She tell my -fortune long ago; bad enough!” Then he withdrew to a corner and -sat glowering at his wife. - -Frank's case was all the more painful because he had no one -in particular to fix his jealousy upon. Sometimes he could have -thanked the man who would bring him evidence against his wife. -He had discharged a good farm-boy, Jan Smirka, because he thought -Marie was fond of him; but she had not seemed to miss Jan when -he was gone, and she had been just as kind to the next boy. The -farm-hands would always do anything for Marie; Frank couldn't find -one so surly that he would not make an effort to please her. At -the bottom of his heart Frank knew well enough that if he could once -give up his grudge, his wife would come back to him. But he could -never in the world do that. The grudge was fundamental. Perhaps -he could not have given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he got more -satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than he would have got -out of being loved. If he could once have made Marie thoroughly -unhappy, he might have relented and raised her from the dust. But -she had never humbled herself. In the first days of their love -she had been his slave; she had admired him abandonedly. But the -moment he began to bully her and to be unjust, she began to draw -away; at first in tearful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken disgust. -The distance between them had widened and hardened. It no longer -contracted and brought them suddenly together. The spark of her -life went somewhere else, and he was always watching to surprise -it. He knew that somewhere she must get a feeling to live upon, -for she was not a woman who could live without loving. He wanted -to prove to himself the wrong he felt. What did she hide in her -heart? Where did it go? Even Frank had his churlish delicacies; -he never reminded her of how much she had once loved him. For that -Marie was grateful to him. - -While Marie was chattering to the French boys, Amedee called Emil -to the back of the room and whispered to him that they were going -to play a joke on the girls. At eleven o'clock, Amedee was to go -up to the switchboard in the vestibule and turn off the electric -lights, and every boy would have a chance to kiss his sweetheart -before Father Duchesne could find his way up the stairs to turn the -current on again. The only difficulty was the candle in Marie's -tent; perhaps, as Emil had no sweetheart, he would oblige the boys -by blowing out the candle. Emil said he would undertake to do -that. - -At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to Marie's booth, and -the French boys dispersed to find their girls. He leaned over the -card-table and gave himself up to looking at her. “Do you think -you could tell my fortune?” he murmured. It was the first word he -had had alone with her for almost a year. “My luck hasn't changed -any. It's just the same.” - -Marie had often wondered whether there was anyone else who could -look his thoughts to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met his -steady, powerful eyes, it was impossible not to feel the sweetness -of the dream he was dreaming; it reached her before she could shut -it out, and hid itself in her heart. She began to shuffle her -cards furiously. “I'm angry with you, Emil,” she broke out with -petulance. “Why did you give them that lovely blue stone to sell? -You might have known Frank wouldn't buy it for me, and I wanted it -awfully!” - -Emil laughed shortly. “People who want such little things surely -ought to have them,” he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the -pocket of his velvet trousers and brought out a handful of uncut -turquoises, as big as marbles. Leaning over the table he dropped -them into her lap. “There, will those do? Be careful, don't let -any one see them. Now, I suppose you want me to go away and let -you play with them?” - -Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue color of the stones. -“Oh, Emil! Is everything down there beautiful like these? How -could you ever come away?” - -At that instant Amedee laid hands on the switchboard. There was a +waiting a moment. Emil smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at her +with his old, brooding gaze, while the French girls fluttered about him +in their white dresses and ribbons, and Alexandra watched the scene +with pride. Several of the French girls, Marie knew, were hoping that +Emil would take them to supper, and she was relieved when he took only +his sister. Marie caught Frank’s arm and dragged him to the same table, +managing to get seats opposite the Bergsons, so that she could hear +what they were talking about. Alexandra made Emil tell Mrs. Xavier +Chevalier, the mother of the twenty, about how he had seen a famous +matador killed in the bull-ring. Marie listened to every word, only +taking her eyes from Emil to watch Frank’s plate and keep it filled. +When Emil finished his account,—bloody enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier +and to make her feel thankful that she was not a matador,—Marie broke +out with a volley of questions. How did the women dress when they went +to bull-fights? Did they wear mantillas? Did they never wear hats? + +After supper the young people played charades for the amusement of +their elders, who sat gossiping between their guesses. All the shops in +Sainte-Agnes were closed at eight o’clock that night, so that the +merchants and their clerks could attend the fair. The auction was the +liveliest part of the entertainment, for the French boys always lost +their heads when they began to bid, satisfied that their extravagance +was in a good cause. After all the pincushions and sofa pillows and +embroidered slippers were sold, Emil precipitated a panic by taking out +one of his turquoise shirt studs, which every one had been admiring, +and handing it to the auctioneer. All the French girls clamored for it, +and their sweethearts bid against each other recklessly. Marie wanted +it, too, and she kept making signals to Frank, which he took a sour +pleasure in disregarding. He didn’t see the use of making a fuss over a +fellow just because he was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise +went to Malvina Sauvage, the French banker’s daughter, Marie shrugged +her shoulders and betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where +she began to shuffle her cards by the light of a tallow candle, calling +out, “Fortunes, fortunes!” + +The young priest, Father Duchesne, went first to have his fortune read. +Marie took his long white hand, looked at it, and then began to run off +her cards. “I see a long journey across water for you, Father. You will +go to a town all cut up by water; built on islands, it seems to be, +with rivers and green fields all about. And you will visit an old lady +with a white cap and gold hoops in her ears, and you will be very happy +there.” + +“Mais, oui,” said the priest, with a melancholy smile. “C’est +L’Isle-Adam, chez ma mère. Vous êtes très savante, ma fille.” He patted +her yellow turban, calling, “Venez donc, mes garçons! Il y a ici une +véritable clairvoyante!” + +Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulging in a light irony that +amused the crowd. She told old Brunot, the miser, that he would lose +all his money, marry a girl of sixteen, and live happily on a crust. +Sholte, the fat Russian boy, who lived for his stomach, was to be +disappointed in love, grow thin, and shoot himself from despondency. +Amédée was to have twenty children, and nineteen of them were to be +girls. Amédée slapped Frank on the back and asked him why he didn’t see +what the fortune-teller would promise him. But Frank shook off his +friendly hand and grunted, “She tell my fortune long ago; bad enough!” +Then he withdrew to a corner and sat glowering at his wife. + +Frank’s case was all the more painful because he had no one in +particular to fix his jealousy upon. Sometimes he could have thanked +the man who would bring him evidence against his wife. He had +discharged a good farm-boy, Jan Smirka, because he thought Marie was +fond of him; but she had not seemed to miss Jan when he was gone, and +she had been just as kind to the next boy. The farm-hands would always +do anything for Marie; Frank couldn’t find one so surly that he would +not make an effort to please her. At the bottom of his heart Frank knew +well enough that if he could once give up his grudge, his wife would +come back to him. But he could never in the world do that. The grudge +was fundamental. Perhaps he could not have given it up if he had tried. +Perhaps he got more satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than he +would have got out of being loved. If he could once have made Marie +thoroughly unhappy, he might have relented and raised her from the +dust. But she had never humbled herself. In the first days of their +love she had been his slave; she had admired him abandonedly. But the +moment he began to bully her and to be unjust, she began to draw away; +at first in tearful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken disgust. The +distance between them had widened and hardened. It no longer contracted +and brought them suddenly together. The spark of her life went +somewhere else, and he was always watching to surprise it. He knew that +somewhere she must get a feeling to live upon, for she was not a woman +who could live without loving. He wanted to prove to himself the wrong +he felt. What did she hide in her heart? Where did it go? Even Frank +had his churlish delicacies; he never reminded her of how much she had +once loved him. For that Marie was grateful to him. + +While Marie was chattering to the French boys, Amédée called Emil to +the back of the room and whispered to him that they were going to play +a joke on the girls. At eleven o’clock, Amédée was to go up to the +switchboard in the vestibule and turn off the electric lights, and +every boy would have a chance to kiss his sweetheart before Father +Duchesne could find his way up the stairs to turn the current on again. +The only difficulty was the candle in Marie’s tent; perhaps, as Emil +had no sweetheart, he would oblige the boys by blowing out the candle. +Emil said he would undertake to do that. + +At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to Marie’s booth, and the +French boys dispersed to find their girls. He leaned over the +card-table and gave himself up to looking at her. “Do you think you +could tell my fortune?” he murmured. It was the first word he had had +alone with her for almost a year. “My luck hasn’t changed any. It’s +just the same.” + +Marie had often wondered whether there was anyone else who could look +his thoughts to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met his steady, +powerful eyes, it was impossible not to feel the sweetness of the dream +he was dreaming; it reached her before she could shut it out, and hid +itself in her heart. She began to shuffle her cards furiously. “I’m +angry with you, Emil,” she broke out with petulance. “Why did you give +them that lovely blue stone to sell? You might have known Frank +wouldn’t buy it for me, and I wanted it awfully!” + +Emil laughed shortly. “People who want such little things surely ought +to have them,” he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the pocket of his +velvet trousers and brought out a handful of uncut turquoises, as big +as marbles. Leaning over the table he dropped them into her lap. +“There, will those do? Be careful, don’t let any one see them. Now, I +suppose you want me to go away and let you play with them?” + +Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue color of the stones. “Oh, +Emil! Is everything down there beautiful like these? How could you ever +come away?” + +At that instant Amédée laid hands on the switchboard. There was a shiver and a giggle, and every one looked toward the red blur that -Marie's candle made in the dark. Immediately that, too, was gone. -Little shrieks and currents of soft laughter ran up and down the -dark hall. Marie started up,--directly into Emil's arms. In the -same instant she felt his lips. The veil that had hung uncertainly -between them for so long was dissolved. Before she knew what she -was doing, she had committed herself to that kiss that was at once -a boy's and a man's, as timid as it was tender; so like Emil and -so unlike any one else in the world. Not until it was over did -she realize what it meant. And Emil, who had so often imagined -the shock of this first kiss, was surprised at its gentleness and -naturalness. It was like a sigh which they had breathed together; -almost sorrowful, as if each were afraid of wakening something in -the other. - -When the lights came on again, everybody was laughing and shouting, -and all the French girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only -Marie, in her little tent of shawls, was pale and quiet. Under her -yellow turban the red coral pendants swung against white cheeks. -Frank was still staring at her, but he seemed to see nothing. Years -ago, he himself had had the power to take the blood from her cheeks -like that. Perhaps he did not remember--perhaps he had never -noticed! Emil was already at the other end of the hall, walking -about with the shoulder-motion he had acquired among the Mexicans, -studying the floor with his intent, deep-set eyes. Marie began to -take down and fold her shawls. She did not glance up again. The -young people drifted to the other end of the hall where the guitar -was sounding. In a moment she heard Emil and Raoul singing:-- - - -“Across the Rio Grand-e There lies a sunny land-e, My bright-eyed -Mexico!” - - -Alexandra Bergson came up to the card booth. “Let me help you, -Marie. You look tired.” - -She placed her hand on Marie's arm and felt her shiver. Marie -stiffened under that kind, calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed -and hurt. +Marie’s candle made in the dark. Immediately that, too, was gone. +Little shrieks and currents of soft laughter ran up and down the dark +hall. Marie started up,—directly into Emil’s arms. In the same instant +she felt his lips. The veil that had hung uncertainly between them for +so long was dissolved. Before she knew what she was doing, she had +committed herself to that kiss that was at once a boy’s and a man’s, as +timid as it was tender; so like Emil and so unlike any one else in the +world. Not until it was over did she realize what it meant. And Emil, +who had so often imagined the shock of this first kiss, was surprised +at its gentleness and naturalness. It was like a sigh which they had +breathed together; almost sorrowful, as if each were afraid of wakening +something in the other. + +When the lights came on again, everybody was laughing and shouting, and +all the French girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only Marie, in +her little tent of shawls, was pale and quiet. Under her yellow turban +the red coral pendants swung against white cheeks. Frank was still +staring at her, but he seemed to see nothing. Years ago, he himself had +had the power to take the blood from her cheeks like that. Perhaps he +did not remember—perhaps he had never noticed! Emil was already at the +other end of the hall, walking about with the shoulder-motion he had +acquired among the Mexicans, studying the floor with his intent, +deep-set eyes. Marie began to take down and fold her shawls. She did +not glance up again. The young people drifted to the other end of the +hall where the guitar was sounding. In a moment she heard Emil and +Raoul singing:— + +“Across the Rio Grand-e +There lies a sunny land-e, +My bright-eyed Mexico!” + + +Alexandra Bergson came up to the card booth. “Let me help you, Marie. +You look tired.” + +She placed her hand on Marie’s arm and felt her shiver. Marie stiffened +under that kind, calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed and hurt. There was about Alexandra something of the impervious calm of the -fatalist, always disconcerting to very young people, who cannot -feel that the heart lives at all unless it is still at the mercy -of storms; unless its strings can scream to the touch of pain. +fatalist, always disconcerting to very young people, who cannot feel +that the heart lives at all unless it is still at the mercy of storms; +unless its strings can scream to the touch of pain. II -Signa's wedding supper was over. The guests, and the tiresome -little Norwegian preacher who had performed the marriage ceremony, -were saying good-night. Old Ivar was hitching the horses to the -wagon to take the wedding presents and the bride and groom up to -their new home, on Alexandra's north quarter. When Ivar drove up -to the gate, Emil and Marie Shabata began to carry out the presents, -and Alexandra went into her bedroom to bid Signa good-bye and to -give her a few words of good counsel. She was surprised to find -that the bride had changed her slippers for heavy shoes and was -pinning up her skirts. At that moment Nelse appeared at the gate -with the two milk cows that Alexandra had given Signa for a wedding -present. - -Alexandra began to laugh. “Why, Signa, you and Nelse are to ride -home. I'll send Ivar over with the cows in the morning.” - -Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When her husband called her, -she pinned her hat on resolutely. “I ta-ank I better do yust like -he say,” she murmured in confusion. - -Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to the gate and saw the -party set off, old Ivar driving ahead in the wagon and the bride -and groom following on foot, each leading a cow. Emil burst into -a laugh before they were out of hearing. + +Signa’s wedding supper was over. The guests, and the tiresome little +Norwegian preacher who had performed the marriage ceremony, were saying +good-night. Old Ivar was hitching the horses to the wagon to take the +wedding presents and the bride and groom up to their new home, on +Alexandra’s north quarter. When Ivar drove up to the gate, Emil and +Marie Shabata began to carry out the presents, and Alexandra went into +her bedroom to bid Signa good-bye and to give her a few words of good +counsel. She was surprised to find that the bride had changed her +slippers for heavy shoes and was pinning up her skirts. At that moment +Nelse appeared at the gate with the two milk cows that Alexandra had +given Signa for a wedding present. + +Alexandra began to laugh. “Why, Signa, you and Nelse are to ride home. +I’ll send Ivar over with the cows in the morning.” + +Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When her husband called her, she +pinned her hat on resolutely. “I ta-ank I better do yust like he say,” +she murmured in confusion. + +Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to the gate and saw the party set +off, old Ivar driving ahead in the wagon and the bride and groom +following on foot, each leading a cow. Emil burst into a laugh before +they were out of hearing. “Those two will get on,” said Alexandra as they turned back to the -house. “They are not going to take any chances. They will feel -safer with those cows in their own stable. Marie, I am going to -send for an old woman next. As soon as I get the girls broken in, -I marry them off.” - -“I've no patience with Signa, marrying that grumpy fellow!” Marie -declared. “I wanted her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked -for us last winter. I think she liked him, too.” - -“Yes, I think she did,” Alexandra assented, “but I suppose she was -too much afraid of Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think -of it, most of my girls have married men they were afraid of. I -believe there is a good deal of the cow in most Swedish girls. -You high-strung Bohemian can't understand us. We're a terribly -practical people, and I guess we think a cross man makes a good -manager.” - -Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to pin up a lock of hair -that had fallen on her neck. Somehow Alexandra had irritated her -of late. Everybody irritated her. She was tired of everybody. “I'm -going home alone, Emil, so you needn't get your hat,” she said as -she wound her scarf quickly about her head. “Good-night, Alexandra,” - she called back in a strained voice, running down the gravel walk. +house. “They are not going to take any chances. They will feel safer +with those cows in their own stable. Marie, I am going to send for an +old woman next. As soon as I get the girls broken in, I marry them +off.” + +“I’ve no patience with Signa, marrying that grumpy fellow!” Marie +declared. “I wanted her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked for us +last winter. I think she liked him, too.” + +“Yes, I think she did,” Alexandra assented, “but I suppose she was too +much afraid of Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think of it, +most of my girls have married men they were afraid of. I believe there +is a good deal of the cow in most Swedish girls. You high-strung +Bohemian can’t understand us. We’re a terribly practical people, and I +guess we think a cross man makes a good manager.” + +Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to pin up a lock of hair that +had fallen on her neck. Somehow Alexandra had irritated her of late. +Everybody irritated her. She was tired of everybody. “I’m going home +alone, Emil, so you needn’t get your hat,” she said as she wound her +scarf quickly about her head. “Good-night, Alexandra,” she called back +in a strained voice, running down the gravel walk. Emil followed with long strides until he overtook her. Then she began -to walk slowly. It was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, -and the fireflies were glimmering over the wheat. +to walk slowly. It was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, and +the fireflies were glimmering over the wheat. -“Marie,” said Emil after they had walked for a while, “I wonder if -you know how unhappy I am?” +“Marie,” said Emil after they had walked for a while, “I wonder if you +know how unhappy I am?” -Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its white scarf, drooped -forward a little. +Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its white scarf, drooped forward +a little. -Emil kicked a clod from the path and went on:-- +Emil kicked a clod from the path and went on:— “I wonder whether you are really shallow-hearted, like you seem? -Sometimes I think one boy does just as well as another for you. -It never seems to make much difference whether it is me or Raoul -Marcel or Jan Smirka. Are you really like that?” +Sometimes I think one boy does just as well as another for you. It +never seems to make much difference whether it is me or Raoul Marcel or +Jan Smirka. Are you really like that?” -“Perhaps I am. What do you want me to do? Sit round and cry all -day? When I've cried until I can't cry any more, then--then I must -do something else.” +“Perhaps I am. What do you want me to do? Sit round and cry all day? +When I’ve cried until I can’t cry any more, then—then I must do +something else.” “Are you sorry for me?” he persisted. -“No, I'm not. If I were big and free like you, I wouldn't let -anything make me unhappy. As old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, -I wouldn't go lovering after no woman. I'd take the first train -and go off and have all the fun there is.” +“No, I’m not. If I were big and free like you, I wouldn’t let anything +make me unhappy. As old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, I wouldn’t go +lovering after no woman. I’d take the first train and go off and have +all the fun there is.” -“I tried that, but it didn't do any good. Everything reminded me. -The nicer the place was, the more I wanted you.” They had come to -the stile and Emil pointed to it persuasively. “Sit down a moment, -I want to ask you something.” Marie sat down on the top step and -Emil drew nearer. “Would you tell me something that's none of my -business if you thought it would help me out? Well, then, tell -me, PLEASE tell me, why you ran away with Frank Shabata!” +“I tried that, but it didn’t do any good. Everything reminded me. The +nicer the place was, the more I wanted you.” They had come to the stile +and Emil pointed to it persuasively. “Sit down a moment, I want to ask +you something.” Marie sat down on the top step and Emil drew nearer. +“Would you tell me something that’s none of my business if you thought +it would help me out? Well, then, tell me, _please_ tell me, why you +ran away with Frank Shabata!” Marie drew back. “Because I was in love with him,” she said firmly. “Really?” he asked incredulously. -“Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. I think I was the one -who suggested our running away. From the first it was more my -fault than his.” +“Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. I think I was the one who +suggested our running away. From the first it was more my fault than +his.” Emil turned away his face. -“And now,” Marie went on, “I've got to remember that. Frank is -just the same now as he was then, only then I would see him as I -wanted him to be. I would have my own way. And now I pay for it.” +“And now,” Marie went on, “I’ve got to remember that. Frank is just the +same now as he was then, only then I would see him as I wanted him to +be. I would have my own way. And now I pay for it.” -“You don't do all the paying.” +“You don’t do all the paying.” -“That's it. When one makes a mistake, there's no telling where -it will stop. But you can go away; you can leave all this behind -you.” +“That’s it. When one makes a mistake, there’s no telling where it will +stop. But you can go away; you can leave all this behind you.” -“Not everything. I can't leave you behind. Will you go away with -me, Marie?” +“Not everything. I can’t leave you behind. Will you go away with me, +Marie?” -Marie started up and stepped across the stile. “Emil! How wickedly -you talk! I am not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But what -am I going to do if you keep tormenting me like this!” she added +Marie started up and stepped across the stile. “Emil! How wickedly you +talk! I am not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But what am I +going to do if you keep tormenting me like this!” she added plaintively. -“Marie, I won't bother you any more if you will tell me just -one thing. Stop a minute and look at me. No, nobody can see us. -Everybody's asleep. That was only a firefly. Marie, STOP and tell -me!” +“Marie, I won’t bother you any more if you will tell me just one thing. +Stop a minute and look at me. No, nobody can see us. Everybody’s +asleep. That was only a firefly. Marie, _stop_ and tell me!” -Emil overtook her and catching her by the shoulders shook her -gently, as if he were trying to awaken a sleepwalker. +Emil overtook her and catching her by the shoulders shook her gently, +as if he were trying to awaken a sleepwalker. -Marie hid her face on his arm. “Don't ask me anything more. I -don't know anything except how miserable I am. And I thought it -would be all right when you came back. Oh, Emil,” she clutched his -sleeve and began to cry, “what am I to do if you don't go away? I -can't go, and one of us must. Can't you see?” +Marie hid her face on his arm. “Don’t ask me anything more. I don’t +know anything except how miserable I am. And I thought it would be all +right when you came back. Oh, Emil,” she clutched his sleeve and began +to cry, “what am I to do if you don’t go away? I can’t go, and one of +us must. Can’t you see?” Emil stood looking down at her, holding his shoulders stiff and -stiffening the arm to which she clung. Her white dress looked -gray in the darkness. She seemed like a troubled spirit, like some -shadow out of the earth, clinging to him and entreating him to give -her peace. Behind her the fireflies were weaving in and out over -the wheat. He put his hand on her bent head. “On my honor, Marie, -if you will say you love me, I will go away.” +stiffening the arm to which she clung. Her white dress looked gray in +the darkness. She seemed like a troubled spirit, like some shadow out +of the earth, clinging to him and entreating him to give her peace. +Behind her the fireflies were weaving in and out over the wheat. He put +his hand on her bent head. “On my honor, Marie, if you will say you +love me, I will go away.” -She lifted her face to his. “How could I help it? Didn't you -know?” +She lifted her face to his. “How could I help it? Didn’t you know?” -Emil was the one who trembled, through all his frame. After he -left Marie at her gate, he wandered about the fields all night, -till morning put out the fireflies and the stars. +Emil was the one who trembled, through all his frame. After he left +Marie at her gate, he wandered about the fields all night, till morning +put out the fireflies and the stars. III -One evening, a week after Signa's wedding, Emil was kneeling before -a box in the sitting-room, packing his books. From time to time -he rose and wandered about the house, picking up stray volumes and -bringing them listlessly back to his box. He was packing without -enthusiasm. He was not very sanguine about his future. Alexandra -sat sewing by the table. She had helped him pack his trunk in -the afternoon. As Emil came and went by her chair with his books, -he thought to himself that it had not been so hard to leave his -sister since he first went away to school. He was going directly -to Omaha, to read law in the office of a Swedish lawyer until -October, when he would enter the law school at Ann Arbor. They -had planned that Alexandra was to come to Michigan--a long journey -for her--at Christmas time, and spend several weeks with him. -Nevertheless, he felt that this leave-taking would be more final -than his earlier ones had been; that it meant a definite break with -his old home and the beginning of something new--he did not know -what. His ideas about the future would not crystallize; the more -he tried to think about it, the vaguer his conception of it became. -But one thing was clear, he told himself; it was high time that he -made good to Alexandra, and that ought to be incentive enough to -begin with. - -As he went about gathering up his books he felt as if he were -uprooting things. At last he threw himself down on the old slat -lounge where he had slept when he was little, and lay looking up -at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. + +One evening, a week after Signa’s wedding, Emil was kneeling before a +box in the sitting-room, packing his books. From time to time he rose +and wandered about the house, picking up stray volumes and bringing +them listlessly back to his box. He was packing without enthusiasm. He +was not very sanguine about his future. Alexandra sat sewing by the +table. She had helped him pack his trunk in the afternoon. As Emil came +and went by her chair with his books, he thought to himself that it had +not been so hard to leave his sister since he first went away to +school. He was going directly to Omaha, to read law in the office of a +Swedish lawyer until October, when he would enter the law school at Ann +Arbor. They had planned that Alexandra was to come to Michigan—a long +journey for her—at Christmas time, and spend several weeks with him. +Nevertheless, he felt that this leave-taking would be more final than +his earlier ones had been; that it meant a definite break with his old +home and the beginning of something new—he did not know what. His ideas +about the future would not crystallize; the more he tried to think +about it, the vaguer his conception of it became. But one thing was +clear, he told himself; it was high time that he made good to +Alexandra, and that ought to be incentive enough to begin with. + +As he went about gathering up his books he felt as if he were uprooting +things. At last he threw himself down on the old slat lounge where he +had slept when he was little, and lay looking up at the familiar cracks +in the ceiling. “Tired, Emil?” his sister asked. -“Lazy,” he murmured, turning on his side and looking at her. He -studied Alexandra's face for a long time in the lamplight. It had -never occurred to him that his sister was a handsome woman until -Marie Shabata had told him so. Indeed, he had never thought of -her as being a woman at all, only a sister. As he studied her bent -head, he looked up at the picture of John Bergson above the lamp. -“No,” he thought to himself, “she didn't get it there. I suppose -I am more like that.” - -“Alexandra,” he said suddenly, “that old walnut secretary you use -for a desk was father's, wasn't it?” - -Alexandra went on stitching. “Yes. It was one of the first things -he bought for the old log house. It was a great extravagance -in those days. But he wrote a great many letters back to the old -country. He had many friends there, and they wrote to him up to the -time he died. No one ever blamed him for grandfather's disgrace. -I can see him now, sitting there on Sundays, in his white shirt, -writing pages and pages, so carefully. He wrote a fine, regular -hand, almost like engraving. Yours is something like his, when -you take pains.” +“Lazy,” he murmured, turning on his side and looking at her. He studied +Alexandra’s face for a long time in the lamplight. It had never +occurred to him that his sister was a handsome woman until Marie +Shabata had told him so. Indeed, he had never thought of her as being a +woman at all, only a sister. As he studied her bent head, he looked up +at the picture of John Bergson above the lamp. “No,” he thought to +himself, “she didn’t get it there. I suppose I am more like that.” + +“Alexandra,” he said suddenly, “that old walnut secretary you use for a +desk was father’s, wasn’t it?” + +Alexandra went on stitching. “Yes. It was one of the first things he +bought for the old log house. It was a great extravagance in those +days. But he wrote a great many letters back to the old country. He had +many friends there, and they wrote to him up to the time he died. No +one ever blamed him for grandfather’s disgrace. I can see him now, +sitting there on Sundays, in his white shirt, writing pages and pages, +so carefully. He wrote a fine, regular hand, almost like engraving. +Yours is something like his, when you take pains.” “Grandfather was really crooked, was he?” -“He married an unscrupulous woman, and then--then I'm afraid he -was really crooked. When we first came here father used to have -dreams about making a great fortune and going back to Sweden to -pay back to the poor sailors the money grandfather had lost.” - -Emil stirred on the lounge. “I say, that would have been worth -while, wouldn't it? Father wasn't a bit like Lou or Oscar, was -he? I can't remember much about him before he got sick.” - -“Oh, not at all!” Alexandra dropped her sewing on her knee. “He -had better opportunities; not to make money, but to make something -of himself. He was a quiet man, but he was very intelligent. You -would have been proud of him, Emil.” - -Alexandra felt that he would like to know there had been a man of -his kin whom he could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed of -Lou and Oscar, because they were bigoted and self-satisfied. He -never said much about them, but she could feel his disgust. His -brothers had shown their disapproval of him ever since he first -went away to school. The only thing that would have satisfied them -would have been his failure at the University. As it was, they -resented every change in his speech, in his dress, in his point of -view; though the latter they had to conjecture, for Emil avoided -talking to them about any but family matters. All his interests -they treated as affectations. - -Alexandra took up her sewing again. “I can remember father when -he was quite a young man. He belonged to some kind of a musical -society, a male chorus, in Stockholm. I can remember going with -mother to hear them sing. There must have been a hundred of them, -and they all wore long black coats and white neckties. I was -used to seeing father in a blue coat, a sort of jacket, and when I -recognized him on the platform, I was very proud. Do you remember -that Swedish song he taught you, about the ship boy?” - -“Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. They like anything -different.” Emil paused. “Father had a hard fight here, didn't -he?” he added thoughtfully. - -“Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he had hope. He believed -in the land.” - -“And in you, I guess,” Emil said to himself. There was another -period of silence; that warm, friendly silence, full of perfect -understanding, in which Emil and Alexandra had spent many of their -happiest half-hours. - -At last Emil said abruptly, “Lou and Oscar would be better off if -they were poor, wouldn't they?” - -Alexandra smiled. “Maybe. But their children wouldn't. I have -great hopes of Milly.” - -Emil shivered. “I don't know. Seems to me it gets worse as it -goes on. The worst of the Swedes is that they're never willing -to find out how much they don't know. It was like that at the -University. Always so pleased with themselves! There's no getting -behind that conceited Swedish grin. The Bohemians and Germans were -so different.” - -“Come, Emil, don't go back on your own people. Father wasn't -conceited, Uncle Otto wasn't. Even Lou and Oscar weren't when they -were boys.” - -Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dispute the point. He -turned on his back and lay still for a long time, his hands locked -under his head, looking up at the ceiling. Alexandra knew that he -was thinking of many things. She felt no anxiety about Emil. She -had always believed in him, as she had believed in the land. He -had been more like himself since he got back from Mexico; seemed -glad to be at home, and talked to her as he used to do. She had -no doubt that his wandering fit was over, and that he would soon -be settled in life. - -“Alexandra,” said Emil suddenly, “do you remember the wild duck we -saw down on the river that time?” - -His sister looked up. “I often think of her. It always seems to -me she's there still, just like we saw her.” - -“I know. It's queer what things one remembers and what things one -forgets.” Emil yawned and sat up. “Well, it's time to turn in.” - He rose, and going over to Alexandra stooped down and kissed her -lightly on the cheek. “Good-night, sister. I think you did pretty -well by us.” - -Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. Alexandra sat finishing -his new nightshirt, that must go in the top tray of his trunk. +“He married an unscrupulous woman, and then—then I’m afraid he was +really crooked. When we first came here father used to have dreams +about making a great fortune and going back to Sweden to pay back to +the poor sailors the money grandfather had lost.” + +Emil stirred on the lounge. “I say, that would have been worth while, +wouldn’t it? Father wasn’t a bit like Lou or Oscar, was he? I can’t +remember much about him before he got sick.” + +“Oh, not at all!” Alexandra dropped her sewing on her knee. “He had +better opportunities; not to make money, but to make something of +himself. He was a quiet man, but he was very intelligent. You would +have been proud of him, Emil.” + +Alexandra felt that he would like to know there had been a man of his +kin whom he could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed of Lou and +Oscar, because they were bigoted and self-satisfied. He never said much +about them, but she could feel his disgust. His brothers had shown +their disapproval of him ever since he first went away to school. The +only thing that would have satisfied them would have been his failure +at the University. As it was, they resented every change in his speech, +in his dress, in his point of view; though the latter they had to +conjecture, for Emil avoided talking to them about any but family +matters. All his interests they treated as affectations. + +Alexandra took up her sewing again. “I can remember father when he was +quite a young man. He belonged to some kind of a musical society, a +male chorus, in Stockholm. I can remember going with mother to hear +them sing. There must have been a hundred of them, and they all wore +long black coats and white neckties. I was used to seeing father in a +blue coat, a sort of jacket, and when I recognized him on the platform, +I was very proud. Do you remember that Swedish song he taught you, +about the ship boy?” + +“Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. They like anything different.” +Emil paused. “Father had a hard fight here, didn’t he?” he added +thoughtfully. + +“Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he had hope. He believed in +the land.” + +“And in you, I guess,” Emil said to himself. There was another period +of silence; that warm, friendly silence, full of perfect understanding, +in which Emil and Alexandra had spent many of their happiest +half-hours. + +At last Emil said abruptly, “Lou and Oscar would be better off if they +were poor, wouldn’t they?” + +Alexandra smiled. “Maybe. But their children wouldn’t. I have great +hopes of Milly.” + +Emil shivered. “I don’t know. Seems to me it gets worse as it goes on. +The worst of the Swedes is that they’re never willing to find out how +much they don’t know. It was like that at the University. Always so +pleased with themselves! There’s no getting behind that conceited +Swedish grin. The Bohemians and Germans were so different.” + +“Come, Emil, don’t go back on your own people. Father wasn’t conceited, +Uncle Otto wasn’t. Even Lou and Oscar weren’t when they were boys.” + +Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dispute the point. He turned on +his back and lay still for a long time, his hands locked under his +head, looking up at the ceiling. Alexandra knew that he was thinking of +many things. She felt no anxiety about Emil. She had always believed in +him, as she had believed in the land. He had been more like himself +since he got back from Mexico; seemed glad to be at home, and talked to +her as he used to do. She had no doubt that his wandering fit was over, +and that he would soon be settled in life. + +“Alexandra,” said Emil suddenly, “do you remember the wild duck we saw +down on the river that time?” + +His sister looked up. “I often think of her. It always seems to me +she’s there still, just like we saw her.” + +“I know. It’s queer what things one remembers and what things one +forgets.” Emil yawned and sat up. “Well, it’s time to turn in.” He +rose, and going over to Alexandra stooped down and kissed her lightly +on the cheek. “Good-night, sister. I think you did pretty well by us.” + +Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. Alexandra sat finishing his +new nightshirt, that must go in the top tray of his trunk. IV -The next morning Angelique, Amedee's wife, was in the kitchen baking -pies, assisted by old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board -and the stove stood the old cradle that had been Amedee's, and in -it was his black-eyed son. As Angelique, flushed and excited, with -flour on her hands, stopped to smile at the baby, Emil Bergson rode -up to the kitchen door on his mare and dismounted. - -“'Medee is out in the field, Emil,” Angelique called as she ran -across the kitchen to the oven. “He begins to cut his wheat to-day; -the first wheat ready to cut anywhere about here. He bought a new -header, you know, because all the wheat's so short this year. I -hope he can rent it to the neighbors, it cost so much. He and his -cousins bought a steam thresher on shares. You ought to go out and -see that header work. I watched it an hour this morning, busy as -I am with all the men to feed. He has a lot of hands, but he's -the only one that knows how to drive the header or how to run the -engine, so he has to be everywhere at once. He's sick, too, and -ought to be in his bed.” + +The next morning Angélique, Amédée’s wife, was in the kitchen baking +pies, assisted by old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board and the +stove stood the old cradle that had been Amédée’s, and in it was his +black-eyed son. As Angélique, flushed and excited, with flour on her +hands, stopped to smile at the baby, Emil Bergson rode up to the +kitchen door on his mare and dismounted. + +“’Médée is out in the field, Emil,” Angélique called as she ran across +the kitchen to the oven. “He begins to cut his wheat to-day; the first +wheat ready to cut anywhere about here. He bought a new header, you +know, because all the wheat’s so short this year. I hope he can rent it +to the neighbors, it cost so much. He and his cousins bought a steam +thresher on shares. You ought to go out and see that header work. I +watched it an hour this morning, busy as I am with all the men to feed. +He has a lot of hands, but he’s the only one that knows how to drive +the header or how to run the engine, so he has to be everywhere at +once. He’s sick, too, and ought to be in his bed.” Emil bent over Hector Baptiste, trying to make him blink his round, -bead-like black eyes. “Sick? What's the matter with your daddy, -kid? Been making him walk the floor with you?” - -Angelique sniffed. “Not much! We don't have that kind of babies. -It was his father that kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be -getting up and making mustard plasters to put on his stomach. He -had an awful colic. He said he felt better this morning, but I -don't think he ought to be out in the field, overheating himself.” - -Angelique did not speak with much anxiety, not because she was -indifferent, but because she felt so secure in their good fortune. -Only good things could happen to a rich, energetic, handsome young -man like Amedee, with a new baby in the cradle and a new header in -the field. - -Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste's head. “I say, Angelique, -one of 'Medee's grandmothers, 'way back, must have been a squaw. -This kid looks exactly like the Indian babies.” - -Angelique made a face at him, but old Mrs. Chevalier had been -touched on a sore point, and she let out such a stream of fiery -PATOIS that Emil fled from the kitchen and mounted his mare. - -Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, Emil rode across the field -to the clearing where the thresher stood, driven by a stationary -engine and fed from the header boxes. As Amedee was not on the -engine, Emil rode on to the wheatfield, where he recognized, on -the header, the slight, wiry figure of his friend, coatless, his -white shirt puffed out by the wind, his straw hat stuck jauntily -on the side of his head. The six big work-horses that drew, or -rather pushed, the header, went abreast at a rapid walk, and as they -were still green at the work they required a good deal of management -on Amedee's part; especially when they turned the corners, where -they divided, three and three, and then swung round into line again -with a movement that looked as complicated as a wheel of artillery. -Emil felt a new thrill of admiration for his friend, and with it -the old pang of envy at the way in which Amedee could do with his -might what his hand found to do, and feel that, whatever it was, -it was the most important thing in the world. “I'll have to bring -Alexandra up to see this thing work,” Emil thought; “it's splendid!” - -When he saw Emil, Amedee waved to him and called to one of his -twenty cousins to take the reins. Stepping off the header without -stopping it, he ran up to Emil who had dismounted. “Come along,” - he called. “I have to go over to the engine for a minute. I gotta -green man running it, and I gotta to keep an eye on him.” - -Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed and more excited than -even the cares of managing a big farm at a critical time warranted. -As they passed behind a last year's stack, Amedee clutched at his -right side and sank down for a moment on the straw. - -“Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. Something's the matter -with my insides, for sure.” - -Emil felt his fiery cheek. “You ought to go straight to bed, -'Medee, and telephone for the doctor; that's what you ought to do.” - -Amedee staggered up with a gesture of despair. “How can I? I got -no time to be sick. Three thousand dollars' worth of new machinery -to manage, and the wheat so ripe it will begin to shatter next -week. My wheat's short, but it's gotta grand full berries. What's -he slowing down for? We haven't got header boxes enough to feed -the thresher, I guess.” - -Amedee started hot-foot across the stubble, leaning a little to the +bead-like black eyes. “Sick? What’s the matter with your daddy, kid? +Been making him walk the floor with you?” + +Angélique sniffed. “Not much! We don’t have that kind of babies. It was +his father that kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be getting up +and making mustard plasters to put on his stomach. He had an awful +colic. He said he felt better this morning, but I don’t think he ought +to be out in the field, overheating himself.” + +Angélique did not speak with much anxiety, not because she was +indifferent, but because she felt so secure in their good fortune. Only +good things could happen to a rich, energetic, handsome young man like +Amédée, with a new baby in the cradle and a new header in the field. + +Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste’s head. “I say, Angélique, one +of ’Médée’s grandmothers, ’way back, must have been a squaw. This kid +looks exactly like the Indian babies.” + +Angélique made a face at him, but old Mrs. Chevalier had been touched +on a sore point, and she let out such a stream of fiery _patois_ that +Emil fled from the kitchen and mounted his mare. + +Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, Emil rode across the field to +the clearing where the thresher stood, driven by a stationary engine +and fed from the header boxes. As Amédée was not on the engine, Emil +rode on to the wheatfield, where he recognized, on the header, the +slight, wiry figure of his friend, coatless, his white shirt puffed out +by the wind, his straw hat stuck jauntily on the side of his head. The +six big work-horses that drew, or rather pushed, the header, went +abreast at a rapid walk, and as they were still green at the work they +required a good deal of management on Amédée’s part; especially when +they turned the corners, where they divided, three and three, and then +swung round into line again with a movement that looked as complicated +as a wheel of artillery. Emil felt a new thrill of admiration for his +friend, and with it the old pang of envy at the way in which Amédée +could do with his might what his hand found to do, and feel that, +whatever it was, it was the most important thing in the world. “I’ll +have to bring Alexandra up to see this thing work,” Emil thought; “it’s +splendid!” + +When he saw Emil, Amédée waved to him and called to one of his twenty +cousins to take the reins. Stepping off the header without stopping it, +he ran up to Emil who had dismounted. “Come along,” he called. “I have +to go over to the engine for a minute. I gotta green man running it, +and I gotta to keep an eye on him.” + +Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed and more excited than even +the cares of managing a big farm at a critical time warranted. As they +passed behind a last year’s stack, Amédée clutched at his right side +and sank down for a moment on the straw. + +“Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. Something’s the matter with my +insides, for sure.” + +Emil felt his fiery cheek. “You ought to go straight to bed, ’Médée, +and telephone for the doctor; that’s what you ought to do.” + +Amédée staggered up with a gesture of despair. “How can I? I got no +time to be sick. Three thousand dollars’ worth of new machinery to +manage, and the wheat so ripe it will begin to shatter next week. My +wheat’s short, but it’s gotta grand full berries. What’s he slowing +down for? We haven’t got header boxes enough to feed the thresher, I +guess.” + +Amédée started hot-foot across the stubble, leaning a little to the right as he ran, and waved to the engineer not to stop the engine. Emil saw that this was no time to talk about his own affairs. He -mounted his mare and rode on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends -there good-bye. He went first to see Raoul Marcel, and found him -innocently practising the “Gloria” for the big confirmation service -on Sunday while he polished the mirrors of his father's saloon. +mounted his mare and rode on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends there +good-bye. He went first to see Raoul Marcel, and found him innocently +practising the “Gloria” for the big confirmation service on Sunday +while he polished the mirrors of his father’s saloon. -As Emil rode homewards at three o'clock in the afternoon, he saw -Amedee staggering out of the wheatfield, supported by two of his -cousins. Emil stopped and helped them put the boy to bed. +As Emil rode homewards at three o’clock in the afternoon, he saw Amédée +staggering out of the wheatfield, supported by two of his cousins. Emil +stopped and helped them put the boy to bed. V -When Frank Shabata came in from work at five o'clock that evening, -old Moses Marcel, Raoul's father, telephoned him that Amedee had -had a seizure in the wheatfield, and that Doctor Paradis was going -to operate on him as soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. -Frank dropped a word of this at the table, bolted his supper, and -rode off to Sainte-Agnes, where there would be sympathetic discussion -of Amedee's case at Marcel's saloon. - -As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned Alexandra. It was a -comfort to hear her friend's voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there -was to be known about Amedee. Emil had been there when they carried -him out of the field, and had stayed with him until the doctors -operated for appendicitis at five o'clock. They were afraid it -was too late to do much good; it should have been done three days -ago. Amedee was in a very bad way. Emil had just come home, worn -out and sick himself. She had given him some brandy and put him -to bed. - -Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amedee's illness had taken on a -new meaning to her, now that she knew Emil had been with him. And -it might so easily have been the other way--Emil who was ill and -Amedee who was sad! Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. -She had seldom felt so utterly lonely. If Emil was asleep, there -was not even a chance of his coming; and she could not go to -Alexandra for sympathy. She meant to tell Alexandra everything, -as soon as Emil went away. Then whatever was left between them -would be honest. - -But she could not stay in the house this evening. Where should she -go? She walked slowly down through the orchard, where the evening -air was heavy with the smell of wild cotton. The fresh, salty scent -of the wild roses had given way before this more powerful perfume -of midsummer. Wherever those ashes-of-rose balls hung on their -milky stalks, the air about them was saturated with their breath. -The sky was still red in the west and the evening star hung -directly over the Bergsons' wind-mill. Marie crossed the fence at -the wheatfield corner, and walked slowly along the path that led -to Alexandra's. She could not help feeling hurt that Emil had not -come to tell her about Amedee. It seemed to her most unnatural -that he should not have come. If she were in trouble, certainly -he was the one person in the world she would want to see. Perhaps -he wished her to understand that for her he was as good as gone -already. + +When Frank Shabata came in from work at five o’clock that evening, old +Moses Marcel, Raoul’s father, telephoned him that Amédée had had a +seizure in the wheatfield, and that Doctor Paradis was going to operate +on him as soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. Frank dropped a +word of this at the table, bolted his supper, and rode off to +Sainte-Agnes, where there would be sympathetic discussion of Amédée’s +case at Marcel’s saloon. + +As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned Alexandra. It was a comfort +to hear her friend’s voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there was to be +known about Amédée. Emil had been there when they carried him out of +the field, and had stayed with him until the doctors operated for +appendicitis at five o’clock. They were afraid it was too late to do +much good; it should have been done three days ago. Amédée was in a +very bad way. Emil had just come home, worn out and sick himself. She +had given him some brandy and put him to bed. + +Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amédée’s illness had taken on a new +meaning to her, now that she knew Emil had been with him. And it might +so easily have been the other way—Emil who was ill and Amédée who was +sad! Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. She had seldom felt so +utterly lonely. If Emil was asleep, there was not even a chance of his +coming; and she could not go to Alexandra for sympathy. She meant to +tell Alexandra everything, as soon as Emil went away. Then whatever was +left between them would be honest. + +But she could not stay in the house this evening. Where should she go? +She walked slowly down through the orchard, where the evening air was +heavy with the smell of wild cotton. The fresh, salty scent of the wild +roses had given way before this more powerful perfume of midsummer. +Wherever those ashes-of-rose balls hung on their milky stalks, the air +about them was saturated with their breath. The sky was still red in +the west and the evening star hung directly over the Bergsons’ +wind-mill. Marie crossed the fence at the wheatfield corner, and walked +slowly along the path that led to Alexandra’s. She could not help +feeling hurt that Emil had not come to tell her about Amédée. It seemed +to her most unnatural that he should not have come. If she were in +trouble, certainly he was the one person in the world she would want to +see. Perhaps he wished her to understand that for her he was as good as +gone already. Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the path, like a white -night-moth out of the fields. The years seemed to stretch before -her like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always -the same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; -always the same yearning, the same pulling at the chain--until the -instinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last -time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously -be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted toward the remote, -inaccessible evening star. - -When she reached the stile she sat down and waited. How terrible -it was to love people when you could not really share their lives! +night-moth out of the fields. The years seemed to stretch before her +like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always the same +patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; always the +same yearning, the same pulling at the chain—until the instinct to live +had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last time, until the +chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously be released. Marie +walked on, her face lifted toward the remote, inaccessible evening +star. + +When she reached the stile she sat down and waited. How terrible it was +to love people when you could not really share their lives! Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was already gone. They -couldn't meet any more. There was nothing for them to say. They -had spent the last penny of their small change; there was nothing -left but gold. The day of love-tokens was past. They had now -only their hearts to give each other. And Emil being gone, what -was her life to be like? In some ways, it would be easier. She -would not, at least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were once -away and settled at work, she would not have the feeling that she -was spoiling his life. With the memory he left her, she could be -as rash as she chose. Nobody could be the worse for it but herself; -and that, surely, did not matter. Her own case was clear. When a -girl had loved one man, and then loved another while that man was -still alive, everybody knew what to think of her. What happened +couldn’t meet any more. There was nothing for them to say. They had +spent the last penny of their small change; there was nothing left but +gold. The day of love-tokens was past. They had now only their hearts +to give each other. And Emil being gone, what was her life to be like? +In some ways, it would be easier. She would not, at least, live in +perpetual fear. If Emil were once away and settled at work, she would +not have the feeling that she was spoiling his life. With the memory he +left her, she could be as rash as she chose. Nobody could be the worse +for it but herself; and that, surely, did not matter. Her own case was +clear. When a girl had loved one man, and then loved another while that +man was still alive, everybody knew what to think of her. What happened to her was of little consequence, so long as she did not drag other -people down with her. Emil once away, she could let everything -else go and live a new life of perfect love. +people down with her. Emil once away, she could let everything else go +and live a new life of perfect love. -Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, after all, thought he -might come. And how glad she ought to be, she told herself, that -he was asleep. She left the path and went across the pasture. The -moon was almost full. An owl was hooting somewhere in the fields. -She had scarcely thought about where she was going when the pond -glittered before her, where Emil had shot the ducks. She stopped -and looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty way out of life, if -one chose to take it. But she did not want to die. She wanted to -live and dream--a hundred years, forever! As long as this sweetness -welled up in her heart, as long as her breast could hold this -treasure of pain! She felt as the pond must feel when it held the -moon like that; when it encircled and swelled with that image of -gold. +Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, after all, thought he might +come. And how glad she ought to be, she told herself, that he was +asleep. She left the path and went across the pasture. The moon was +almost full. An owl was hooting somewhere in the fields. She had +scarcely thought about where she was going when the pond glittered +before her, where Emil had shot the ducks. She stopped and looked at +it. Yes, there would be a dirty way out of life, if one chose to take +it. But she did not want to die. She wanted to live and dream—a hundred +years, forever! As long as this sweetness welled up in her heart, as +long as her breast could hold this treasure of pain! She felt as the +pond must feel when it held the moon like that; when it encircled and +swelled with that image of gold. -In the morning, when Emil came down-stairs, Alexandra met him -in the sitting-room and put her hands on his shoulders. “Emil, I -went to your room as soon as it was light, but you were sleeping -so sound I hated to wake you. There was nothing you could do, so -I let you sleep. They telephoned from Sainte-Agnes that Amedee -died at three o'clock this morning.” +In the morning, when Emil came down-stairs, Alexandra met him in the +sitting-room and put her hands on his shoulders. “Emil, I went to your +room as soon as it was light, but you were sleeping so sound I hated to +wake you. There was nothing you could do, so I let you sleep. They +telephoned from Sainte-Agnes that Amédée died at three o’clock this +morning.” VI + The Church has always held that life is for the living. On Saturday, -while half the village of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Amedee and -preparing the funeral black for his burial on Monday, the other -half was busy with white dresses and white veils for the great -confirmation service to-morrow, when the bishop was to confirm a -class of one hundred boys and girls. Father Duchesne divided his -time between the living and the dead. All day Saturday the church -was a scene of bustling activity, a little hushed by the thought -of Amedee. The choir were busy rehearsing a mass of Rossini, which -they had studied and practised for this occasion. The women were -trimming the altar, the boys and girls were bringing flowers. - -On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive overland to Sainte-Agnes -from Hanover, and Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place of -one of Amedee's cousins in the cavalcade of forty French boys who -were to ride across country to meet the bishop's carriage. At -six o'clock on Sunday morning the boys met at the church. As they -stood holding their horses by the bridle, they talked in low tones -of their dead comrade. They kept repeating that Amedee had always -been a good boy, glancing toward the red brick church which had -played so large a part in Amedee's life, had been the scene of his -most serious moments and of his happiest hours. He had played and -wrestled and sung and courted under its shadow. Only three weeks -ago he had proudly carried his baby there to be christened. They -could not doubt that that invisible arm was still about Amedee; that -through the church on earth he had passed to the church triumphant, -the goal of the hopes and faith of so many hundred years. - -When the word was given to mount, the young men rode at a walk out -of the village; but once out among the wheatfields in the morning -sun, their horses and their own youth got the better of them. A -wave of zeal and fiery enthusiasm swept over them. They longed -for a Jerusalem to deliver. The thud of their galloping hoofs -interrupted many a country breakfast and brought many a woman and -child to the door of the farmhouses as they passed. Five miles east -of Sainte-Agnes they met the bishop in his open carriage, attended -by two priests. Like one man the boys swung off their hats in a -broad salute, and bowed their heads as the handsome old man lifted -his two fingers in the episcopal blessing. The horsemen closed -about the carriage like a guard, and whenever a restless horse broke -from control and shot down the road ahead of the body, the bishop -laughed and rubbed his plump hands together. “What fine boys!” he -said to his priests. “The Church still has her cavalry.” - -As the troop swept past the graveyard half a mile east of the -town,--the first frame church of the parish had stood there,--old -Pierre Seguin was already out with his pick and spade, digging -Amedee's grave. He knelt and uncovered as the bishop passed. The -boys with one accord looked away from old Pierre to the red church -on the hill, with the gold cross flaming on its steeple. +while half the village of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Amédée and +preparing the funeral black for his burial on Monday, the other half +was busy with white dresses and white veils for the great confirmation +service to-morrow, when the bishop was to confirm a class of one +hundred boys and girls. Father Duchesne divided his time between the +living and the dead. All day Saturday the church was a scene of +bustling activity, a little hushed by the thought of Amédée. The choir +were busy rehearsing a mass of Rossini, which they had studied and +practised for this occasion. The women were trimming the altar, the +boys and girls were bringing flowers. + +On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive overland to Sainte-Agnes from +Hanover, and Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place of one of +Amédée’s cousins in the cavalcade of forty French boys who were to ride +across country to meet the bishop’s carriage. At six o’clock on Sunday +morning the boys met at the church. As they stood holding their horses +by the bridle, they talked in low tones of their dead comrade. They +kept repeating that Amédée had always been a good boy, glancing toward +the red brick church which had played so large a part in Amédée’s life, +had been the scene of his most serious moments and of his happiest +hours. He had played and wrestled and sung and courted under its +shadow. Only three weeks ago he had proudly carried his baby there to +be christened. They could not doubt that that invisible arm was still +about Amédée; that through the church on earth he had passed to the +church triumphant, the goal of the hopes and faith of so many hundred +years. + +When the word was given to mount, the young men rode at a walk out of +the village; but once out among the wheatfields in the morning sun, +their horses and their own youth got the better of them. A wave of zeal +and fiery enthusiasm swept over them. They longed for a Jerusalem to +deliver. The thud of their galloping hoofs interrupted many a country +breakfast and brought many a woman and child to the door of the +farmhouses as they passed. Five miles east of Sainte-Agnes they met the +bishop in his open carriage, attended by two priests. Like one man the +boys swung off their hats in a broad salute, and bowed their heads as +the handsome old man lifted his two fingers in the episcopal blessing. +The horsemen closed about the carriage like a guard, and whenever a +restless horse broke from control and shot down the road ahead of the +body, the bishop laughed and rubbed his plump hands together. “What +fine boys!” he said to his priests. “The Church still has her cavalry.” + +As the troop swept past the graveyard half a mile east of the town,—the +first frame church of the parish had stood there,—old Pierre Seguin was +already out with his pick and spade, digging Amédée’s grave. He knelt +and uncovered as the bishop passed. The boys with one accord looked +away from old Pierre to the red church on the hill, with the gold cross +flaming on its steeple. Mass was at eleven. While the church was filling, Emil Bergson waited -outside, watching the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After -the bell began to ring, he saw Frank Shabata ride up on horseback -and tie his horse to the hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. -Emil turned and went into the church. Amedee's was the only empty -pew, and he sat down in it. Some of Amedee's cousins were there, -dressed in black and weeping. When all the pews were full, the -old men and boys packed the open space at the back of the church, -kneeling on the floor. There was scarcely a family in town that was -not represented in the confirmation class, by a cousin, at least. -The new communicants, with their clear, reverent faces, were beautiful -to look upon as they entered in a body and took the front benches -reserved for them. Even before the Mass began, the air was charged -with feeling. The choir had never sung so well and Raoul Marcel, -in the “Gloria,” drew even the bishop's eyes to the organ loft. -For the offertory he sang Gounod's “Ave Maria,”--always spoken of -in Sainte-Agnes as “the Ave Maria.” - -Emil began to torture himself with questions about Marie. Was she -ill? Had she quarreled with her husband? Was she too unhappy to -find comfort even here? Had she, perhaps, thought that he would -come to her? Was she waiting for him? Overtaxed by excitement -and sorrow as he was, the rapture of the service took hold upon his -body and mind. As he listened to Raoul, he seemed to emerge from -the conflicting emotions which had been whirling him about and -sucking him under. He felt as if a clear light broke upon his -mind, and with it a conviction that good was, after all, stronger -than evil, and that good was possible to men. He seemed to discover -that there was a kind of rapture in which he could love forever -without faltering and without sin. He looked across the heads of -the people at Frank Shabata with calmness. That rapture was for those -who could feel it; for people who could not, it was non-existent. -He coveted nothing that was Frank Shabata's. The spirit he had -met in music was his own. Frank Shabata had never found it; would -never find it if he lived beside it a thousand years; would have -destroyed it if he had found it, as Herod slew the innocents, as -Rome slew the martyrs. - -SAN--CTA MARI-I-I-A, +outside, watching the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After the +bell began to ring, he saw Frank Shabata ride up on horseback and tie +his horse to the hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. Emil turned +and went into the church. Amédée’s was the only empty pew, and he sat +down in it. Some of Amédée’s cousins were there, dressed in black and +weeping. When all the pews were full, the old men and boys packed the +open space at the back of the church, kneeling on the floor. There was +scarcely a family in town that was not represented in the confirmation +class, by a cousin, at least. The new communicants, with their clear, +reverent faces, were beautiful to look upon as they entered in a body +and took the front benches reserved for them. Even before the Mass +began, the air was charged with feeling. The choir had never sung so +well and Raoul Marcel, in the “Gloria,” drew even the bishop’s eyes to +the organ loft. For the offertory he sang Gounod’s “Ave Maria,”—always +spoken of in Sainte-Agnes as “the Ave Maria.” + +Emil began to torture himself with questions about Marie. Was she ill? +Had she quarreled with her husband? Was she too unhappy to find comfort +even here? Had she, perhaps, thought that he would come to her? Was she +waiting for him? Overtaxed by excitement and sorrow as he was, the +rapture of the service took hold upon his body and mind. As he listened +to Raoul, he seemed to emerge from the conflicting emotions which had +been whirling him about and sucking him under. He felt as if a clear +light broke upon his mind, and with it a conviction that good was, +after all, stronger than evil, and that good was possible to men. He +seemed to discover that there was a kind of rapture in which he could +love forever without faltering and without sin. He looked across the +heads of the people at Frank Shabata with calmness. That rapture was +for those who could feel it; for people who could not, it was +non-existent. He coveted nothing that was Frank Shabata’s. The spirit +he had met in music was his own. Frank Shabata had never found it; +would never find it if he lived beside it a thousand years; would have +destroyed it if he had found it, as Herod slew the innocents, as Rome +slew the martyrs. + +San—cta Mari-i-i-a, + wailed Raoul from the organ loft; -O--RA PRO NO-O-BIS! +O—ra pro no-o-bis! + And it did not occur to Emil that any one had ever reasoned thus before, that music had ever before given a man this equivocal revelation. The confirmation service followed the Mass. When it was over, the -congregation thronged about the newly confirmed. The girls, and -even the boys, were kissed and embraced and wept over. All the -aunts and grandmothers wept with joy. The housewives had much ado -to tear themselves away from the general rejoicing and hurry back -to their kitchens. The country parishioners were staying in town -for dinner, and nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes entertained -visitors that day. Father Duchesne, the bishop, and the visiting -priests dined with Fabien Sauvage, the banker. Emil and Frank -Shabata were both guests of old Moise Marcel. After dinner Frank -and old Moise retired to the rear room of the saloon to play -California Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil went over to the -banker's with Raoul, who had been asked to sing for the bishop. - -At three o'clock, Emil felt that he could stand it no longer. He -slipped out under cover of “The Holy City,” followed by Malvina's -wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. He was at that -height of excitement from which everything is foreshortened, from -which life seems short and simple, death very near, and the soul -seems to soar like an eagle. As he rode past the graveyard he looked -at the brown hole in the earth where Amedee was to lie, and felt -no horror. That, too, was beautiful, that simple doorway into -forgetfulness. The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for -that brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old -and the poor and the maimed who shrink from that brown hole; its -wooers are found among the young, the passionate, the gallant-hearted. -It was not until he had passed the graveyard that Emil realized -where he was going. It was the hour for saying good-bye. It might -be the last time that he would see her alone, and today he could -leave her without rancor, without bitterness. - -Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of -the smell of the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an -oven. The breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed him like -pleasant things in a dream. He could feel nothing but the sense of -diminishing distance. It seemed to him that his mare was flying, -or running on wheels, like a railway train. The sunlight, flashing -on the window-glass of the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. -He was like an arrow shot from the bow. His life poured itself -out along the road before him as he rode to the Shabata farm. - -When Emil alighted at the Shabatas' gate, his horse was in a lather. -He tied her in the stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. -She might be at Mrs. Hiller's or with Alexandra. But anything -that reminded him of her would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry -tree... When he reached the orchard the sun was hanging low over -the wheatfield. Long fingers of light reached through the apple -branches as through a net; the orchard was riddled and shot with -gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely interferences -that reflected and refracted light. Emil went softly down between -the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. When he came to the corner, -he stopped short and put his hand over his mouth. Marie was lying -on her side under the white mulberry tree, her face half hidden in -the grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply where they had -happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new life of perfect -love, and it had left her like this. Her breast rose and fell -faintly, as if she were asleep. Emil threw himself down beside -her and took her in his arms. The blood came back to her cheeks, -her amber eyes opened slowly, and in them Emil saw his own face -and the orchard and the sun. “I was dreaming this,” she whispered, -hiding her face against him, “don't take my dream away!” +congregation thronged about the newly confirmed. The girls, and even +the boys, were kissed and embraced and wept over. All the aunts and +grandmothers wept with joy. The housewives had much ado to tear +themselves away from the general rejoicing and hurry back to their +kitchens. The country parishioners were staying in town for dinner, and +nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes entertained visitors that day. +Father Duchesne, the bishop, and the visiting priests dined with Fabien +Sauvage, the banker. Emil and Frank Shabata were both guests of old +Moise Marcel. After dinner Frank and old Moise retired to the rear room +of the saloon to play California Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil +went over to the banker’s with Raoul, who had been asked to sing for +the bishop. + +At three o’clock, Emil felt that he could stand it no longer. He +slipped out under cover of “The Holy City,” followed by Malvina’s +wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. He was at that height +of excitement from which everything is foreshortened, from which life +seems short and simple, death very near, and the soul seems to soar +like an eagle. As he rode past the graveyard he looked at the brown +hole in the earth where Amédée was to lie, and felt no horror. That, +too, was beautiful, that simple doorway into forgetfulness. The heart, +when it is too much alive, aches for that brown earth, and ecstasy has +no fear of death. It is the old and the poor and the maimed who shrink +from that brown hole; its wooers are found among the young, the +passionate, the gallant-hearted. It was not until he had passed the +graveyard that Emil realized where he was going. It was the hour for +saying good-bye. It might be the last time that he would see her alone, +and today he could leave her without rancor, without bitterness. + +Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of the +smell of the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an oven. The +breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed him like pleasant +things in a dream. He could feel nothing but the sense of diminishing +distance. It seemed to him that his mare was flying, or running on +wheels, like a railway train. The sunlight, flashing on the +window-glass of the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. He was like +an arrow shot from the bow. His life poured itself out along the road +before him as he rode to the Shabata farm. + +When Emil alighted at the Shabatas’ gate, his horse was in a lather. He +tied her in the stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. She +might be at Mrs. Hiller’s or with Alexandra. But anything that reminded +him of her would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry tree... When he +reached the orchard the sun was hanging low over the wheatfield. Long +fingers of light reached through the apple branches as through a net; +the orchard was riddled and shot with gold; light was the reality, the +trees were merely interferences that reflected and refracted light. +Emil went softly down between the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. +When he came to the corner, he stopped short and put his hand over his +mouth. Marie was lying on her side under the white mulberry tree, her +face half hidden in the grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply +where they had happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new life of +perfect love, and it had left her like this. Her breast rose and fell +faintly, as if she were asleep. Emil threw himself down beside her and +took her in his arms. The blood came back to her cheeks, her amber eyes +opened slowly, and in them Emil saw his own face and the orchard and +the sun. “I was dreaming this,” she whispered, hiding her face against +him, “don’t take my dream away!” VII -When Frank Shabata got home that night, he found Emil's mare in -his stable. Such an impertinence amazed him. Like everybody else, -Frank had had an exciting day. Since noon he had been drinking too -much, and he was in a bad temper. He talked bitterly to himself -while he put his own horse away, and as he went up the path and -saw that the house was dark he felt an added sense of injury. He -approached quietly and listened on the doorstep. Hearing nothing, -he opened the kitchen door and went softly from one room to another. -Then he went through the house again, upstairs and down, with no -better result. He sat down on the bottom step of the box stairway -and tried to get his wits together. In that unnatural quiet there -was no sound but his own heavy breathing. Suddenly an owl began -to hoot out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. An idea flashed -into his mind, and his sense of injury and outrage grew. He went -into his bedroom and took his murderous 405 Winchester from the -closet. - -When Frank took up his gun and walked out of the house, he had not -the faintest purpose of doing anything with it. He did not believe -that he had any real grievance. But it gratified him to feel like -a desperate man. He had got into the habit of seeing himself always -in desperate straits. His unhappy temperament was like a cage; he -could never get out of it; and he felt that other people, his wife -in particular, must have put him there. It had never more than -dimly occurred to Frank that he made his own unhappiness. Though -he took up his gun with dark projects in his mind, he would have -been paralyzed with fright had he known that there was the slightest -probability of his ever carrying any of them out. - -Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, stopped and stood for -a moment lost in thought. He retraced his steps and looked through -the barn and the hayloft. Then he went out to the road, where he -took the foot-path along the outside of the orchard hedge. The -hedge was twice as tall as Frank himself, and so dense that one -could see through it only by peering closely between the leaves. -He could see the empty path a long way in the moonlight. His mind -traveled ahead to the stile, which he always thought of as haunted -by Emil Bergson. But why had he left his horse? - -At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard hedge ended and the -path led across the pasture to the Bergsons', Frank stopped. In -the warm, breathless night air he heard a murmuring sound, perfectly -inarticulate, as low as the sound of water coming from a spring, -where there is no fall, and where there are no stones to fret it. -Frank strained his ears. It ceased. He held his breath and began -to tremble. Resting the butt of his gun on the ground, he parted -the mulberry leaves softly with his fingers and peered through -the hedge at the dark figures on the grass, in the shadow of the -mulberry tree. It seemed to him that they must feel his eyes, -that they must hear him breathing. But they did not. Frank, who -had always wanted to see things blacker than they were, for once -wanted to believe less than he saw. The woman lying in the shadow -might so easily be one of the Bergsons' farm-girls.... Again -the murmur, like water welling out of the ground. This time he -heard it more distinctly, and his blood was quicker than his brain. -He began to act, just as a man who falls into the fire begins to -act. The gun sprang to his shoulder, he sighted mechanically and -fired three times without stopping, stopped without knowing why. + +When Frank Shabata got home that night, he found Emil’s mare in his +stable. Such an impertinence amazed him. Like everybody else, Frank had +had an exciting day. Since noon he had been drinking too much, and he +was in a bad temper. He talked bitterly to himself while he put his own +horse away, and as he went up the path and saw that the house was dark +he felt an added sense of injury. He approached quietly and listened on +the doorstep. Hearing nothing, he opened the kitchen door and went +softly from one room to another. Then he went through the house again, +upstairs and down, with no better result. He sat down on the bottom +step of the box stairway and tried to get his wits together. In that +unnatural quiet there was no sound but his own heavy breathing. +Suddenly an owl began to hoot out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. +An idea flashed into his mind, and his sense of injury and outrage +grew. He went into his bedroom and took his murderous 405 Winchester +from the closet. + +When Frank took up his gun and walked out of the house, he had not the +faintest purpose of doing anything with it. He did not believe that he +had any real grievance. But it gratified him to feel like a desperate +man. He had got into the habit of seeing himself always in desperate +straits. His unhappy temperament was like a cage; he could never get +out of it; and he felt that other people, his wife in particular, must +have put him there. It had never more than dimly occurred to Frank that +he made his own unhappiness. Though he took up his gun with dark +projects in his mind, he would have been paralyzed with fright had he +known that there was the slightest probability of his ever carrying any +of them out. + +Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, stopped and stood for a +moment lost in thought. He retraced his steps and looked through the +barn and the hayloft. Then he went out to the road, where he took the +foot-path along the outside of the orchard hedge. The hedge was twice +as tall as Frank himself, and so dense that one could see through it +only by peering closely between the leaves. He could see the empty path +a long way in the moonlight. His mind traveled ahead to the stile, +which he always thought of as haunted by Emil Bergson. But why had he +left his horse? + +At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard hedge ended and the path +led across the pasture to the Bergsons’, Frank stopped. In the warm, +breathless night air he heard a murmuring sound, perfectly +inarticulate, as low as the sound of water coming from a spring, where +there is no fall, and where there are no stones to fret it. Frank +strained his ears. It ceased. He held his breath and began to tremble. +Resting the butt of his gun on the ground, he parted the mulberry +leaves softly with his fingers and peered through the hedge at the dark +figures on the grass, in the shadow of the mulberry tree. It seemed to +him that they must feel his eyes, that they must hear him breathing. +But they did not. Frank, who had always wanted to see things blacker +than they were, for once wanted to believe less than he saw. The woman +lying in the shadow might so easily be one of the Bergsons’ +farm-girls.... Again the murmur, like water welling out of the ground. +This time he heard it more distinctly, and his blood was quicker than +his brain. He began to act, just as a man who falls into the fire +begins to act. The gun sprang to his shoulder, he sighted mechanically +and fired three times without stopping, stopped without knowing why. Either he shut his eyes or he had vertigo. He did not see anything -while he was firing. He thought he heard a cry simultaneous with -the second report, but he was not sure. He peered again through -the hedge, at the two dark figures under the tree. They had fallen -a little apart from each other, and were perfectly still--No, -not quite; in a white patch of light, where the moon shone through -the branches, a man's hand was plucking spasmodically at the grass. +while he was firing. He thought he heard a cry simultaneous with the +second report, but he was not sure. He peered again through the hedge, +at the two dark figures under the tree. They had fallen a little apart +from each other, and were perfectly still—No, not quite; in a white +patch of light, where the moon shone through the branches, a man’s hand +was plucking spasmodically at the grass. Suddenly the woman stirred and uttered a cry, then another, and -another. She was living! She was dragging herself toward the -hedge! Frank dropped his gun and ran back along the path, shaking, -stumbling, gasping. He had never imagined such horror. The -cries followed him. They grew fainter and thicker, as if she were -choking. He dropped on his knees beside the hedge and crouched -like a rabbit, listening; fainter, fainter; a sound like a whine; -again--a moan--another--silence. Frank scrambled to his feet and -ran on, groaning and praying. From habit he went toward the house, -where he was used to being soothed when he had worked himself into -a frenzy, but at the sight of the black, open door, he started back. -He knew that he had murdered somebody, that a woman was bleeding -and moaning in the orchard, but he had not realized before that -it was his wife. The gate stared him in the face. He threw his -hands over his head. Which way to turn? He lifted his tormented -face and looked at the sky. “Holy Mother of God, not to suffer! -She was a good girl--not to suffer!” - -Frank had been wont to see himself in dramatic situations; but -now, when he stood by the windmill, in the bright space between the -barn and the house, facing his own black doorway, he did not see -himself at all. He stood like the hare when the dogs are approaching -from all sides. And he ran like a hare, back and forth about that -moonlit space, before he could make up his mind to go into the -dark stable for a horse. The thought of going into a doorway was -terrible to him. He caught Emil's horse by the bit and led it out. -He could not have buckled a bridle on his own. After two or three -attempts, he lifted himself into the saddle and started for Hanover. -If he could catch the one o'clock train, he had money enough to -get as far as Omaha. - -While he was thinking dully of this in some less sensitized part -of his brain, his acuter faculties were going over and over the -cries he had heard in the orchard. Terror was the only thing that -kept him from going back to her, terror that she might still be -she, that she might still be suffering. A woman, mutilated and -bleeding in his orchard--it was because it was a woman that he -was so afraid. It was inconceivable that he should have hurt a -woman. He would rather be eaten by wild beasts than see her move -on the ground as she had moved in the orchard. Why had she been -so careless? She knew he was like a crazy man when he was angry. -She had more than once taken that gun away from him and held it, -when he was angry with other people. Once it had gone off while -they were struggling over it. She was never afraid. But, when -she knew him, why hadn't she been more careful? Didn't she have -all summer before her to love Emil Bergson in, without taking such -chances? Probably she had met the Smirka boy, too, down there in -the orchard. He didn't care. She could have met all the men on the -Divide there, and welcome, if only she hadn't brought this horror -on him. - -There was a wrench in Frank's mind. He did not honestly believe that -of her. He knew that he was doing her wrong. He stopped his horse -to admit this to himself the more directly, to think it out the more -clearly. He knew that he was to blame. For three years he had been -trying to break her spirit. She had a way of making the best of -things that seemed to him a sentimental affectation. He wanted his -wife to resent that he was wasting his best years among these stupid -and unappreciative people; but she had seemed to find the people -quite good enough. If he ever got rich he meant to buy her pretty -clothes and take her to California in a Pullman car, and treat her -like a lady; but in the mean time he wanted her to feel that life was -as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. He had tried to make her life -ugly. He had refused to share any of the little pleasures she was so -plucky about making for herself. She could be gay about the least -thing in the world; but she must be gay! When she first came to him, -her faith in him, her adoration--Frank struck the mare with his fist. -Why had Marie made him do this thing; why had she brought this upon -him? He was overwhelmed by sickening misfortune. All at once he -heard her cries again--he had forgotten for a moment. “Maria,” he +another. She was living! She was dragging herself toward the hedge! +Frank dropped his gun and ran back along the path, shaking, stumbling, +gasping. He had never imagined such horror. The cries followed him. +They grew fainter and thicker, as if she were choking. He dropped on +his knees beside the hedge and crouched like a rabbit, listening; +fainter, fainter; a sound like a whine; again—a moan—another—silence. +Frank scrambled to his feet and ran on, groaning and praying. From +habit he went toward the house, where he was used to being soothed when +he had worked himself into a frenzy, but at the sight of the black, +open door, he started back. He knew that he had murdered somebody, that +a woman was bleeding and moaning in the orchard, but he had not +realized before that it was his wife. The gate stared him in the face. +He threw his hands over his head. Which way to turn? He lifted his +tormented face and looked at the sky. “Holy Mother of God, not to +suffer! She was a good girl—not to suffer!” + +Frank had been wont to see himself in dramatic situations; but now, +when he stood by the windmill, in the bright space between the barn and +the house, facing his own black doorway, he did not see himself at all. +He stood like the hare when the dogs are approaching from all sides. +And he ran like a hare, back and forth about that moonlit space, before +he could make up his mind to go into the dark stable for a horse. The +thought of going into a doorway was terrible to him. He caught Emil’s +horse by the bit and led it out. He could not have buckled a bridle on +his own. After two or three attempts, he lifted himself into the saddle +and started for Hanover. If he could catch the one o’clock train, he +had money enough to get as far as Omaha. + +While he was thinking dully of this in some less sensitized part of his +brain, his acuter faculties were going over and over the cries he had +heard in the orchard. Terror was the only thing that kept him from +going back to her, terror that she might still be she, that she might +still be suffering. A woman, mutilated and bleeding in his orchard—it +was because it was a woman that he was so afraid. It was inconceivable +that he should have hurt a woman. He would rather be eaten by wild +beasts than see her move on the ground as she had moved in the orchard. +Why had she been so careless? She knew he was like a crazy man when he +was angry. She had more than once taken that gun away from him and held +it, when he was angry with other people. Once it had gone off while +they were struggling over it. She was never afraid. But, when she knew +him, why hadn’t she been more careful? Didn’t she have all summer +before her to love Emil Bergson in, without taking such chances? +Probably she had met the Smirka boy, too, down there in the orchard. He +didn’t care. She could have met all the men on the Divide there, and +welcome, if only she hadn’t brought this horror on him. + +There was a wrench in Frank’s mind. He did not honestly believe that of +her. He knew that he was doing her wrong. He stopped his horse to admit +this to himself the more directly, to think it out the more clearly. He +knew that he was to blame. For three years he had been trying to break +her spirit. She had a way of making the best of things that seemed to +him a sentimental affectation. He wanted his wife to resent that he was +wasting his best years among these stupid and unappreciative people; +but she had seemed to find the people quite good enough. If he ever got +rich he meant to buy her pretty clothes and take her to California in a +Pullman car, and treat her like a lady; but in the mean time he wanted +her to feel that life was as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. He had +tried to make her life ugly. He had refused to share any of the little +pleasures she was so plucky about making for herself. She could be gay +about the least thing in the world; but she must be gay! When she first +came to him, her faith in him, her adoration—Frank struck the mare with +his fist. Why had Marie made him do this thing; why had she brought +this upon him? He was overwhelmed by sickening misfortune. All at once +he heard her cries again—he had forgotten for a moment. “Maria,” he sobbed aloud, “Maria!” -When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the motion of his horse brought -on a violent attack of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on -again, but he could think of nothing except his physical weakness -and his desire to be comforted by his wife. He wanted to get into -his own bed. Had his wife been at home, he would have turned and -gone back to her meekly enough. +When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the motion of his horse brought on a +violent attack of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on again, but he +could think of nothing except his physical weakness and his desire to +be comforted by his wife. He wanted to get into his own bed. Had his +wife been at home, he would have turned and gone back to her meekly +enough. VIII -When old Ivar climbed down from his loft at four o'clock the next -morning, he came upon Emil's mare, jaded and lather-stained, her -bridle broken, chewing the scattered tufts of hay outside the stable -door. The old man was thrown into a fright at once. He put the -mare in her stall, threw her a measure of oats, and then set out -as fast as his bow-legs could carry him on the path to the nearest -neighbor. - -“Something is wrong with that boy. Some misfortune has come upon -us. He would never have used her so, in his right senses. It is -not his way to abuse his mare,” the old man kept muttering, as he -scuttled through the short, wet pasture grass on his bare feet. - -While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the first long rays of -the sun were reaching down between the orchard boughs to those two + +When old Ivar climbed down from his loft at four o’clock the next +morning, he came upon Emil’s mare, jaded and lather-stained, her bridle +broken, chewing the scattered tufts of hay outside the stable door. The +old man was thrown into a fright at once. He put the mare in her stall, +threw her a measure of oats, and then set out as fast as his bow-legs +could carry him on the path to the nearest neighbor. + +“Something is wrong with that boy. Some misfortune has come upon us. He +would never have used her so, in his right senses. It is not his way to +abuse his mare,” the old man kept muttering, as he scuttled through the +short, wet pasture grass on his bare feet. + +While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the first long rays of the +sun were reaching down between the orchard boughs to those two dew-drenched figures. The story of what had happened was written plainly on the orchard grass, and on the white mulberries that had fallen in the night and were covered with dark stain. For Emil the -chapter had been short. He was shot in the heart, and had rolled -over on his back and died. His face was turned up to the sky and -his brows were drawn in a frown, as if he had realized that something -had befallen him. But for Marie Shabata it had not been so easy. -One ball had torn through her right lung, another had shattered -the carotid artery. She must have started up and gone toward the -hedge, leaving a trail of blood. There she had fallen and bled. -From that spot there was another trail, heavier than the first, -where she must have dragged herself back to Emil's body. Once -there, she seemed not to have struggled any more. She had lifted -her head to her lover's breast, taken his hand in both her own, -and bled quietly to death. She was lying on her right side in an -easy and natural position, her cheek on Emil's shoulder. On her -face there was a look of ineffable content. Her lips were parted -a little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a day-dream or a -light slumber. After she lay down there, she seemed not to have -moved an eyelash. The hand she held was covered with dark stains, -where she had kissed it. +chapter had been short. He was shot in the heart, and had rolled over +on his back and died. His face was turned up to the sky and his brows +were drawn in a frown, as if he had realized that something had +befallen him. But for Marie Shabata it had not been so easy. One ball +had torn through her right lung, another had shattered the carotid +artery. She must have started up and gone toward the hedge, leaving a +trail of blood. There she had fallen and bled. From that spot there was +another trail, heavier than the first, where she must have dragged +herself back to Emil’s body. Once there, she seemed not to have +struggled any more. She had lifted her head to her lover’s breast, +taken his hand in both her own, and bled quietly to death. She was +lying on her right side in an easy and natural position, her cheek on +Emil’s shoulder. On her face there was a look of ineffable content. Her +lips were parted a little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a +day-dream or a light slumber. After she lay down there, she seemed not +to have moved an eyelash. The hand she held was covered with dark +stains, where she had kissed it. But the stained, slippery grass, the darkened mulberries, told only half the story. Above Marie and Emil, two white butterflies from -Frank's alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out among the interlacing -shadows; diving and soaring, now close together, now far apart; -and in the long grass by the fence the last wild roses of the year -opened their pink hearts to die. +Frank’s alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out among the interlacing +shadows; diving and soaring, now close together, now far apart; and in +the long grass by the fence the last wild roses of the year opened +their pink hearts to die. -When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he saw Shabata's rifle -lying in the way. He turned and peered through the branches, -falling upon his knees as if his legs had been mowed from under -him. “Merciful God!” he groaned. +When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he saw Shabata’s rifle lying +in the way. He turned and peered through the branches, falling upon his +knees as if his legs had been mowed from under him. “Merciful God!” he +groaned. Alexandra, too, had risen early that morning, because of her anxiety -about Emil. She was in Emil's room upstairs when, from the window, -she saw Ivar coming along the path that led from the Shabatas'. -He was running like a spent man, tottering and lurching from side -to side. Ivar never drank, and Alexandra thought at once that one -of his spells had come upon him, and that he must be in a very bad -way indeed. She ran downstairs and hurried out to meet him, to -hide his infirmity from the eyes of her household. The old man -fell in the road at her feet and caught her hand, over which he -bowed his shaggy head. “Mistress, mistress,” he sobbed, “it has -fallen! Sin and death for the young ones! God have mercy upon -us!” +about Emil. She was in Emil’s room upstairs when, from the window, she +saw Ivar coming along the path that led from the Shabatas’. He was +running like a spent man, tottering and lurching from side to side. +Ivar never drank, and Alexandra thought at once that one of his spells +had come upon him, and that he must be in a very bad way indeed. She +ran downstairs and hurried out to meet him, to hide his infirmity from +the eyes of her household. The old man fell in the road at her feet and +caught her hand, over which he bowed his shaggy head. “Mistress, +mistress,” he sobbed, “it has fallen! Sin and death for the young ones! +God have mercy upon us!” -PART V. Alexandra +PART V. +Alexandra I -Ivar was sitting at a cobbler's bench in the barn, mending harness -by the light of a lantern and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. -It was only five o'clock of a mid-October day, but a storm had -come up in the afternoon, bringing black clouds, a cold wind and -torrents of rain. The old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, and -occasionally stopped to warm his fingers at the lantern. Suddenly -a woman burst into the shed, as if she had been blown in, accompanied by -a shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, wrapped in a man's overcoat -and wearing a pair of boots over her shoes. In time of trouble -Signa had come back to stay with her mistress, for she was the only -one of the maids from whom Alexandra would accept much personal -service. It was three months now since the news of the terrible -thing that had happened in Frank Shabata's orchard had first run -like a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were staying on with -Alexandra until winter. - -“Ivar,” Signa exclaimed as she wiped the rain from her face, “do -you know where she is?” - -The old man put down his cobbler's knife. “Who, the mistress?” - -“Yes. She went away about three o'clock. I happened to look out -of the window and saw her going across the fields in her thin dress -and sun-hat. And now this storm has come on. I thought she was -going to Mrs. Hiller's, and I telephoned as soon as the thunder -stopped, but she had not been there. I'm afraid she is out somewhere -and will get her death of cold.” - -Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. “JA, JA, we will see. -I will hitch the boy's mare to the cart and go.” - -Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses' stable. -She was shivering with cold and excitement. “Where do you suppose -she can be, Ivar?” - -The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg. -“How should I know?” - -“But you think she is at the graveyard, don't you?” Signa persisted. -“So do I. Oh, I wish she would be more like herself! I can't -believe it's Alexandra Bergson come to this, with no head about -anything. I have to tell her when to eat and when to go to bed.” - -“Patience, patience, sister,” muttered Ivar as he settled the bit -in the horse's mouth. “When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the -eyes of the spirit are open. She will have a message from those -who are gone, and that will bring her peace. Until then we must -bear with her. You and I are the only ones who have weight with -her. She trusts us.” - -“How awful it's been these last three months.” Signa held the -lantern so that he could see to buckle the straps. “It don't seem -right that we must all be so miserable. Why do we all have to be -punished? Seems to me like good times would never come again.” - -Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but said nothing. He stooped -and took a sandburr from his toe. + +Ivar was sitting at a cobbler’s bench in the barn, mending harness by +the light of a lantern and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. It was +only five o’clock of a mid-October day, but a storm had come up in the +afternoon, bringing black clouds, a cold wind and torrents of rain. The +old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, and occasionally stopped to warm +his fingers at the lantern. Suddenly a woman burst into the shed, as if +she had been blown in, accompanied by a shower of rain-drops. It was +Signa, wrapped in a man’s overcoat and wearing a pair of boots over her +shoes. In time of trouble Signa had come back to stay with her +mistress, for she was the only one of the maids from whom Alexandra +would accept much personal service. It was three months now since the +news of the terrible thing that had happened in Frank Shabata’s orchard +had first run like a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were staying +on with Alexandra until winter. + +“Ivar,” Signa exclaimed as she wiped the rain from her face, “do you +know where she is?” + +The old man put down his cobbler’s knife. “Who, the mistress?” + +“Yes. She went away about three o’clock. I happened to look out of the +window and saw her going across the fields in her thin dress and +sun-hat. And now this storm has come on. I thought she was going to +Mrs. Hiller’s, and I telephoned as soon as the thunder stopped, but she +had not been there. I’m afraid she is out somewhere and will get her +death of cold.” + +Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. “_Ja_, _ja_, we will see. +I will hitch the boy’s mare to the cart and go.” + +Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses’ stable. She was +shivering with cold and excitement. “Where do you suppose she can be, +Ivar?” + +The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg. “How +should I know?” + +“But you think she is at the graveyard, don’t you?” Signa persisted. +“So do I. Oh, I wish she would be more like herself! I can’t believe +it’s Alexandra Bergson come to this, with no head about anything. I +have to tell her when to eat and when to go to bed.” + +“Patience, patience, sister,” muttered Ivar as he settled the bit in +the horse’s mouth. “When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the eyes of +the spirit are open. She will have a message from those who are gone, +and that will bring her peace. Until then we must bear with her. You +and I are the only ones who have weight with her. She trusts us.” + +“How awful it’s been these last three months.” Signa held the lantern +so that he could see to buckle the straps. “It don’t seem right that we +must all be so miserable. Why do we all have to be punished? Seems to +me like good times would never come again.” + +Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but said nothing. He stooped and +took a sandburr from his toe. “Ivar,” Signa asked suddenly, “will you tell me why you go barefoot? -All the time I lived here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it -for a penance, or what?” - -“No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the body. From my youth -up I have had a strong, rebellious body, and have been subject to -every kind of temptation. Even in age my temptations are prolonged. -It was necessary to make some allowances; and the feet, as I -understand it, are free members. There is no divine prohibition -for them in the Ten Commandments. The hands, the tongue, the eyes, -the heart, all the bodily desires we are commanded to subdue; but -the feet are free members. I indulge them without harm to any -one, even to trampling in filth when my desires are low. They are -quickly cleaned again.” - -Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful as she followed Ivar out -to the wagon-shed and held the shafts up for him, while he backed -in the mare and buckled the hold-backs. “You have been a good -friend to the mistress, Ivar,” she murmured. - -“And you, God be with you,” replied Ivar as he clambered into the -cart and put the lantern under the oilcloth lap-cover. “Now for -a ducking, my girl,” he said to the mare, gathering up the reins. +All the time I lived here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it for a +penance, or what?” + +“No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the body. From my youth up I +have had a strong, rebellious body, and have been subject to every kind +of temptation. Even in age my temptations are prolonged. It was +necessary to make some allowances; and the feet, as I understand it, +are free members. There is no divine prohibition for them in the Ten +Commandments. The hands, the tongue, the eyes, the heart, all the +bodily desires we are commanded to subdue; but the feet are free +members. I indulge them without harm to any one, even to trampling in +filth when my desires are low. They are quickly cleaned again.” + +Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful as she followed Ivar out to +the wagon-shed and held the shafts up for him, while he backed in the +mare and buckled the hold-backs. “You have been a good friend to the +mistress, Ivar,” she murmured. + +“And you, God be with you,” replied Ivar as he clambered into the cart +and put the lantern under the oilcloth lap-cover. “Now for a ducking, +my girl,” he said to the mare, gathering up the reins. As they emerged from the shed, a stream of water, running off the thatch, struck the mare on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly, then struck out bravely on the soft ground, slipping back again and -again as she climbed the hill to the main road. Between the rain -and the darkness Ivar could see very little, so he let Emil's mare -have the rein, keeping her head in the right direction. When the -ground was level, he turned her out of the dirt road upon the sod, -where she was able to trot without slipping. - -Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three miles from the house, -the storm had spent itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, -dripping rain. The sky and the land were a dark smoke color, and -seemed to be coming together, like two waves. When Ivar stopped -at the gate and swung out his lantern, a white figure rose from -beside John Bergson's white stone. - -The old man sprang to the ground and shuffled toward the gate -calling, “Mistress, mistress!” +again as she climbed the hill to the main road. Between the rain and +the darkness Ivar could see very little, so he let Emil’s mare have the +rein, keeping her head in the right direction. When the ground was +level, he turned her out of the dirt road upon the sod, where she was +able to trot without slipping. + +Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three miles from the house, the +storm had spent itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, dripping +rain. The sky and the land were a dark smoke color, and seemed to be +coming together, like two waves. When Ivar stopped at the gate and +swung out his lantern, a white figure rose from beside John Bergson’s +white stone. + +The old man sprang to the ground and shuffled toward the gate calling, +“Mistress, mistress!” Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her hand on his shoulder. -“TYST! Ivar. There's nothing to be worried about. I'm sorry if -I've scared you all. I didn't notice the storm till it was on me, -and I couldn't walk against it. I'm glad you've come. I am so -tired I didn't know how I'd ever get home.” - -Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in her face. “GUD! -You are enough to frighten us, mistress. You look like a drowned -woman. How could you do such a thing!” - -Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the gate and helped her -into the cart, wrapping her in the dry blankets on which he had -been sitting. - -Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. “Not much use in that, Ivar. -You will only shut the wet in. I don't feel so cold now; but I'm -heavy and numb. I'm glad you came.” - -Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a sliding trot. Her feet -sent back a continual spatter of mud. - -Alexandra spoke to the old man as they jogged along through the -sullen gray twilight of the storm. “Ivar, I think it has done me -good to get cold clear through like this, once. I don't believe -I shall suffer so much any more. When you get so near the dead, -they seem more real than the living. Worldly thoughts leave one. -Ever since Emil died, I've suffered so when it rained. Now that -I've been out in it with him, I shan't dread it. After you once -get cold clear through, the feeling of the rain on you is sweet. -It seems to bring back feelings you had when you were a baby. It -carries you back into the dark, before you were born; you can't -see things, but they come to you, somehow, and you know them and -aren't afraid of them. Maybe it's like that with the dead. If -they feel anything at all, it's the old things, before they were -born, that comfort people like the feeling of their own bed does -when they are little.” - -“Mistress,” said Ivar reproachfully, “those are bad thoughts. The -dead are in Paradise.” +“_Tyst!_ Ivar. There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m sorry if I’ve +scared you all. I didn’t notice the storm till it was on me, and I +couldn’t walk against it. I’m glad you’ve come. I am so tired I didn’t +know how I’d ever get home.” + +Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in her face. “_Gud!_ You are +enough to frighten us, mistress. You look like a drowned woman. How +could you do such a thing!” + +Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the gate and helped her into +the cart, wrapping her in the dry blankets on which he had been +sitting. + +Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. “Not much use in that, Ivar. You +will only shut the wet in. I don’t feel so cold now; but I’m heavy and +numb. I’m glad you came.” + +Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a sliding trot. Her feet sent +back a continual spatter of mud. + +Alexandra spoke to the old man as they jogged along through the sullen +gray twilight of the storm. “Ivar, I think it has done me good to get +cold clear through like this, once. I don’t believe I shall suffer so +much any more. When you get so near the dead, they seem more real than +the living. Worldly thoughts leave one. Ever since Emil died, I’ve +suffered so when it rained. Now that I’ve been out in it with him, I +shan’t dread it. After you once get cold clear through, the feeling of +the rain on you is sweet. It seems to bring back feelings you had when +you were a baby. It carries you back into the dark, before you were +born; you can’t see things, but they come to you, somehow, and you know +them and aren’t afraid of them. Maybe it’s like that with the dead. If +they feel anything at all, it’s the old things, before they were born, +that comfort people like the feeling of their own bed does when they +are little.” + +“Mistress,” said Ivar reproachfully, “those are bad thoughts. The dead +are in Paradise.” Then he hung his head, for he did not believe that Emil was in Paradise. -When they got home, Signa had a fire burning in the sitting-room -stove. She undressed Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while -Ivar made ginger tea in the kitchen. When Alexandra was in bed, -wrapped in hot blankets, Ivar came in with his tea and saw that -she drank it. Signa asked permission to sleep on the slat lounge -outside her door. Alexandra endured their attentions patiently, -but she was glad when they put out the lamp and left her. As she -lay alone in the dark, it occurred to her for the first time that -perhaps she was actually tired of life. All the physical operations -of life seemed difficult and painful. She longed to be free from -her own body, which ached and was so heavy. And longing itself -was heavy: she yearned to be free of that. - -As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, more vividly than -for many years, the old illusion of her girlhood, of being lifted -and carried lightly by some one very strong. He was with her -a long while this time, and carried her very far, and in his arms -she felt free from pain. When he laid her down on her bed again, -she opened her eyes, and, for the first time in her life, she saw -him, saw him clearly, though the room was dark, and his face was -covered. He was standing in the doorway of her room. His white -cloak was thrown over his face, and his head was bent a little -forward. His shoulders seemed as strong as the foundations of the -world. His right arm, bared from the elbow, was dark and gleaming, -like bronze, and she knew at once that it was the arm of the -mightiest of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it was she had -waited, and where he would carry her. That, she told herself, was -very well. Then she went to sleep. +When they got home, Signa had a fire burning in the sitting-room stove. +She undressed Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while Ivar made +ginger tea in the kitchen. When Alexandra was in bed, wrapped in hot +blankets, Ivar came in with his tea and saw that she drank it. Signa +asked permission to sleep on the slat lounge outside her door. +Alexandra endured their attentions patiently, but she was glad when +they put out the lamp and left her. As she lay alone in the dark, it +occurred to her for the first time that perhaps she was actually tired +of life. All the physical operations of life seemed difficult and +painful. She longed to be free from her own body, which ached and was +so heavy. And longing itself was heavy: she yearned to be free of that. + +As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, more vividly than for +many years, the old illusion of her girlhood, of being lifted and +carried lightly by some one very strong. He was with her a long while +this time, and carried her very far, and in his arms she felt free from +pain. When he laid her down on her bed again, she opened her eyes, and, +for the first time in her life, she saw him, saw him clearly, though +the room was dark, and his face was covered. He was standing in the +doorway of her room. His white cloak was thrown over his face, and his +head was bent a little forward. His shoulders seemed as strong as the +foundations of the world. His right arm, bared from the elbow, was dark +and gleaming, like bronze, and she knew at once that it was the arm of +the mightiest of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it was she had +waited, and where he would carry her. That, she told herself, was very +well. Then she went to sleep. Alexandra wakened in the morning with nothing worse than a hard cold -and a stiff shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, and it -was during that time that she formed a resolution to go to Lincoln -to see Frank Shabata. Ever since she last saw him in the courtroom, -Frank's haggard face and wild eyes had haunted her. The trial had -lasted only three days. Frank had given himself up to the police -in Omaha and pleaded guilty of killing without malice and without -premeditation. The gun was, of course, against him, and the judge -had given him the full sentence,--ten years. He had now been in -the State Penitentiary for a month. - -Frank was the only one, Alexandra told herself, for whom anything -could be done. He had been less in the wrong than any of them, -and he was paying the heaviest penalty. She often felt that she -herself had been more to blame than poor Frank. From the time the -Shabatas had first moved to the neighboring farm, she had omitted -no opportunity of throwing Marie and Emil together. Because she -knew Frank was surly about doing little things to help his wife, -she was always sending Emil over to spade or plant or carpenter -for Marie. She was glad to have Emil see as much as possible of an -intelligent, city-bred girl like their neighbor; she noticed that -it improved his manners. She knew that Emil was fond of Marie, but -it had never occurred to her that Emil's feeling might be different -from her own. She wondered at herself now, but she had never -thought of danger in that direction. If Marie had been unmarried,--oh, -yes! Then she would have kept her eyes open. But the mere fact that -she was Shabata's wife, for Alexandra, settled everything. That she was -beautiful, impulsive, barely two years older than Emil, these facts had -had no weight with Alexandra. Emil was a good boy, and only bad boys -ran after married women. - -Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize that Marie was, after -all, Marie; not merely a “married woman.” Sometimes, when Alexandra -thought of her, it was with an aching tenderness. The moment she -had reached them in the orchard that morning, everything was clear -to her. There was something about those two lying in the grass, -something in the way Marie had settled her cheek on Emil's shoulder, -that told her everything. She wondered then how they could have -helped loving each other; how she could have helped knowing that -they must. Emil's cold, frowning face, the girl's content--Alexandra -had felt awe of them, even in the first shock of her grief. +and a stiff shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, and it was +during that time that she formed a resolution to go to Lincoln to see +Frank Shabata. Ever since she last saw him in the courtroom, Frank’s +haggard face and wild eyes had haunted her. The trial had lasted only +three days. Frank had given himself up to the police in Omaha and +pleaded guilty of killing without malice and without premeditation. The +gun was, of course, against him, and the judge had given him the full +sentence,—ten years. He had now been in the State Penitentiary for a +month. + +Frank was the only one, Alexandra told herself, for whom anything could +be done. He had been less in the wrong than any of them, and he was +paying the heaviest penalty. She often felt that she herself had been +more to blame than poor Frank. From the time the Shabatas had first +moved to the neighboring farm, she had omitted no opportunity of +throwing Marie and Emil together. Because she knew Frank was surly +about doing little things to help his wife, she was always sending Emil +over to spade or plant or carpenter for Marie. She was glad to have +Emil see as much as possible of an intelligent, city-bred girl like +their neighbor; she noticed that it improved his manners. She knew that +Emil was fond of Marie, but it had never occurred to her that Emil’s +feeling might be different from her own. She wondered at herself now, +but she had never thought of danger in that direction. If Marie had +been unmarried,—oh, yes! Then she would have kept her eyes open. But +the mere fact that she was Shabata’s wife, for Alexandra, settled +everything. That she was beautiful, impulsive, barely two years older +than Emil, these facts had had no weight with Alexandra. Emil was a +good boy, and only bad boys ran after married women. + +Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize that Marie was, after all, +Marie; not merely a “married woman.” Sometimes, when Alexandra thought +of her, it was with an aching tenderness. The moment she had reached +them in the orchard that morning, everything was clear to her. There +was something about those two lying in the grass, something in the way +Marie had settled her cheek on Emil’s shoulder, that told her +everything. She wondered then how they could have helped loving each +other; how she could have helped knowing that they must. Emil’s cold, +frowning face, the girl’s content—Alexandra had felt awe of them, even +in the first shock of her grief. The idleness of those days in bed, the relaxation of body which -attended them, enabled Alexandra to think more calmly than she had -done since Emil's death. She and Frank, she told herself, were left -out of that group of friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster. -She must certainly see Frank Shabata. Even in the courtroom her -heart had grieved for him. He was in a strange country, he had no -kinsmen or friends, and in a moment he had ruined his life. Being -what he was, she felt, Frank could not have acted otherwise. She -could understand his behavior more easily than she could understand -Marie's. Yes, she must go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. - -The day after Emil's funeral, Alexandra had written to Carl Linstrum; -a single page of notepaper, a bare statement of what had happened. -She was not a woman who could write much about such a thing, and -about her own feelings she could never write very freely. She knew -that Carl was away from post-offices, prospecting somewhere in the -interior. Before he started he had written her where he expected -to go, but her ideas about Alaska were vague. As the weeks went -by and she heard nothing from him, it seemed to Alexandra that -her heart grew hard against Carl. She began to wonder whether she -would not do better to finish her life alone. What was left of -life seemed unimportant. +attended them, enabled Alexandra to think more calmly than she had done +since Emil’s death. She and Frank, she told herself, were left out of +that group of friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster. She must +certainly see Frank Shabata. Even in the courtroom her heart had +grieved for him. He was in a strange country, he had no kinsmen or +friends, and in a moment he had ruined his life. Being what he was, she +felt, Frank could not have acted otherwise. She could understand his +behavior more easily than she could understand Marie’s. Yes, she must +go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. + +The day after Emil’s funeral, Alexandra had written to Carl Linstrum; a +single page of notepaper, a bare statement of what had happened. She +was not a woman who could write much about such a thing, and about her +own feelings she could never write very freely. She knew that Carl was +away from post-offices, prospecting somewhere in the interior. Before +he started he had written her where he expected to go, but her ideas +about Alaska were vague. As the weeks went by and she heard nothing +from him, it seemed to Alexandra that her heart grew hard against Carl. +She began to wonder whether she would not do better to finish her life +alone. What was left of life seemed unimportant. II + Late in the afternoon of a brilliant October day, Alexandra Bergson, dressed in a black suit and traveling-hat, alighted at the Burlington -depot in Lincoln. She drove to the Lindell Hotel, where she had -stayed two years ago when she came up for Emil's Commencement. In -spite of her usual air of sureness and self-possession, Alexandra -felt ill at ease in hotels, and she was glad, when she went to the -clerk's desk to register, that there were not many people in the -lobby. She had her supper early, wearing her hat and black jacket -down to the dining-room and carrying her handbag. After supper -she went out for a walk. - -It was growing dark when she reached the university campus. She -did not go into the grounds, but walked slowly up and down the -stone walk outside the long iron fence, looking through at the young -men who were running from one building to another, at the lights -shining from the armory and the library. A squad of cadets were -going through their drill behind the armory, and the commands of -their young officer rang out at regular intervals, so sharp and -quick that Alexandra could not understand them. Two stalwart girls -came down the library steps and out through one of the iron gates. -As they passed her, Alexandra was pleased to hear them speaking -Bohemian to each other. Every few moments a boy would come running -down the flagged walk and dash out into the street as if he were -rushing to announce some wonder to the world. Alexandra felt a -great tenderness for them all. She wished one of them would stop -and speak to her. She wished she could ask them whether they had -known Emil. - -As she lingered by the south gate she actually did encounter one -of the boys. He had on his drill cap and was swinging his books -at the end of a long strap. It was dark by this time; he did not -see her and ran against her. He snatched off his cap and stood -bareheaded and panting. “I'm awfully sorry,” he said in a bright, -clear voice, with a rising inflection, as if he expected her to -say something. - -“Oh, it was my fault!” said Alexandra eagerly. “Are you an old -student here, may I ask?” - -“No, ma'am. I'm a Freshie, just off the farm. Cherry County. -Were you hunting somebody?” - -“No, thank you. That is--” Alexandra wanted to detain him. “That -is, I would like to find some of my brother's friends. He graduated -two years ago.” - -“Then you'd have to try the Seniors, wouldn't you? Let's see; I -don't know any of them yet, but there'll be sure to be some of them -around the library. That red building, right there,” he pointed. - -“Thank you, I'll try there,” said Alexandra lingeringly. - -“Oh, that's all right! Good-night.” The lad clapped his cap on -his head and ran straight down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked -after him wistfully. - -She walked back to her hotel unreasonably comforted. “What a nice -voice that boy had, and how polite he was. I know Emil was always -like that to women.” And again, after she had undressed and was -standing in her nightgown, brushing her long, heavy hair by the -electric light, she remembered him and said to herself, “I don't -think I ever heard a nicer voice than that boy had. I hope he -will get on well here. Cherry County; that's where the hay is so -fine, and the coyotes can scratch down to water.” - -At nine o'clock the next morning Alexandra presented herself -at the warden's office in the State Penitentiary. The warden was -a German, a ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had formerly been a -harness-maker. Alexandra had a letter to him from the German banker -in Hanover. As he glanced at the letter, Mr. Schwartz put away -his pipe. - -“That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he's gettin' along fine,” said -Mr. Schwartz cheerfully. - -“I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he might be quarrelsome and -get himself into more trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I -would like to tell you a little about Frank Shabata, and why I am -interested in him.” - -The warden listened genially while she told him briefly something -of Frank's history and character, but he did not seem to find -anything unusual in her account. - -“Sure, I'll keep an eye on him. We'll take care of him all right,” - he said, rising. “You can talk to him here, while I go to see to -things in the kitchen. I'll have him sent in. He ought to be done -washing out his cell by this time. We have to keep 'em clean, you -know.” - -The warden paused at the door, speaking back over his shoulder to -a pale young man in convicts' clothes who was seated at a desk in -the corner, writing in a big ledger. - -“Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just step out and give this -lady a chance to talk.” +depot in Lincoln. She drove to the Lindell Hotel, where she had stayed +two years ago when she came up for Emil’s Commencement. In spite of her +usual air of sureness and self-possession, Alexandra felt ill at ease +in hotels, and she was glad, when she went to the clerk’s desk to +register, that there were not many people in the lobby. She had her +supper early, wearing her hat and black jacket down to the dining-room +and carrying her handbag. After supper she went out for a walk. + +It was growing dark when she reached the university campus. She did not +go into the grounds, but walked slowly up and down the stone walk +outside the long iron fence, looking through at the young men who were +running from one building to another, at the lights shining from the +armory and the library. A squad of cadets were going through their +drill behind the armory, and the commands of their young officer rang +out at regular intervals, so sharp and quick that Alexandra could not +understand them. Two stalwart girls came down the library steps and out +through one of the iron gates. As they passed her, Alexandra was +pleased to hear them speaking Bohemian to each other. Every few moments +a boy would come running down the flagged walk and dash out into the +street as if he were rushing to announce some wonder to the world. +Alexandra felt a great tenderness for them all. She wished one of them +would stop and speak to her. She wished she could ask them whether they +had known Emil. + +As she lingered by the south gate she actually did encounter one of the +boys. He had on his drill cap and was swinging his books at the end of +a long strap. It was dark by this time; he did not see her and ran +against her. He snatched off his cap and stood bareheaded and panting. +“I’m awfully sorry,” he said in a bright, clear voice, with a rising +inflection, as if he expected her to say something. + +“Oh, it was my fault!” said Alexandra eagerly. “Are you an old student +here, may I ask?” + +“No, ma’am. I’m a Freshie, just off the farm. Cherry County. Were you +hunting somebody?” + +“No, thank you. That is—” Alexandra wanted to detain him. “That is, I +would like to find some of my brother’s friends. He graduated two years +ago.” + +“Then you’d have to try the Seniors, wouldn’t you? Let’s see; I don’t +know any of them yet, but there’ll be sure to be some of them around +the library. That red building, right there,” he pointed. + +“Thank you, I’ll try there,” said Alexandra lingeringly. + +“Oh, that’s all right! Good-night.” The lad clapped his cap on his head +and ran straight down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked after him +wistfully. + +She walked back to her hotel unreasonably comforted. “What a nice voice +that boy had, and how polite he was. I know Emil was always like that +to women.” And again, after she had undressed and was standing in her +nightgown, brushing her long, heavy hair by the electric light, she +remembered him and said to herself, “I don’t think I ever heard a nicer +voice than that boy had. I hope he will get on well here. Cherry +County; that’s where the hay is so fine, and the coyotes can scratch +down to water.” + +At nine o’clock the next morning Alexandra presented herself at the +warden’s office in the State Penitentiary. The warden was a German, a +ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had formerly been a harness-maker. +Alexandra had a letter to him from the German banker in Hanover. As he +glanced at the letter, Mr. Schwartz put away his pipe. + +“That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he’s gettin’ along fine,” said Mr. +Schwartz cheerfully. + +“I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he might be quarrelsome and get +himself into more trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I would like +to tell you a little about Frank Shabata, and why I am interested in +him.” + +The warden listened genially while she told him briefly something of +Frank’s history and character, but he did not seem to find anything +unusual in her account. + +“Sure, I’ll keep an eye on him. We’ll take care of him all right,” he +said, rising. “You can talk to him here, while I go to see to things in +the kitchen. I’ll have him sent in. He ought to be done washing out his +cell by this time. We have to keep ’em clean, you know.” + +The warden paused at the door, speaking back over his shoulder to a +pale young man in convicts’ clothes who was seated at a desk in the +corner, writing in a big ledger. + +“Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just step out and give this lady +a chance to talk.” The young man bowed his head and bent over his ledger again. When Mr. Schwartz disappeared, Alexandra thrust her black-edged handkerchief nervously into her handbag. Coming out on the streetcar -she had not had the least dread of meeting Frank. But since she -had been here the sounds and smells in the corridor, the look of the -men in convicts' clothes who passed the glass door of the warden's -office, affected her unpleasantly. - -The warden's clock ticked, the young convict's pen scratched -busily in the big book, and his sharp shoulders were shaken every -few seconds by a loose cough which he tried to smother. It was easy -to see that he was a sick man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, -but he did not once raise his eyes. He wore a white shirt under -his striped jacket, a high collar, and a necktie, very carefully -tied. His hands were thin and white and well cared for, and he had -a seal ring on his little finger. When he heard steps approaching -in the corridor, he rose, blotted his book, put his pen in the rack, -and left the room without raising his eyes. Through the door he -opened a guard came in, bringing Frank Shabata. - -“You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? Here he is. Be on your -good behavior, now. He can set down, lady,” seeing that Alexandra -remained standing. “Push that white button when you're through -with him, and I'll come.” +she had not had the least dread of meeting Frank. But since she had +been here the sounds and smells in the corridor, the look of the men in +convicts’ clothes who passed the glass door of the warden’s office, +affected her unpleasantly. + +The warden’s clock ticked, the young convict’s pen scratched busily in +the big book, and his sharp shoulders were shaken every few seconds by +a loose cough which he tried to smother. It was easy to see that he was +a sick man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, but he did not once raise +his eyes. He wore a white shirt under his striped jacket, a high +collar, and a necktie, very carefully tied. His hands were thin and +white and well cared for, and he had a seal ring on his little finger. +When he heard steps approaching in the corridor, he rose, blotted his +book, put his pen in the rack, and left the room without raising his +eyes. Through the door he opened a guard came in, bringing Frank +Shabata. + +“You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? Here he is. Be on your good +behavior, now. He can set down, lady,” seeing that Alexandra remained +standing. “Push that white button when you’re through with him, and +I’ll come.” The guard went out and Alexandra and Frank were left alone. Alexandra tried not to see his hideous clothes. She tried to look -straight into his face, which she could scarcely believe was his. -It was already bleached to a chalky gray. His lips were colorless, -his fine teeth looked yellowish. He glanced at Alexandra sullenly, -blinked as if he had come from a dark place, and one eyebrow twitched -continually. She felt at once that this interview was a terrible -ordeal to him. His shaved head, showing the conformation of his -skull, gave him a criminal look which he had not had during the -trial. +straight into his face, which she could scarcely believe was his. It +was already bleached to a chalky gray. His lips were colorless, his +fine teeth looked yellowish. He glanced at Alexandra sullenly, blinked +as if he had come from a dark place, and one eyebrow twitched +continually. She felt at once that this interview was a terrible ordeal +to him. His shaved head, showing the conformation of his skull, gave +him a criminal look which he had not had during the trial. Alexandra held out her hand. “Frank,” she said, her eyes filling -suddenly, “I hope you'll let me be friendly with you. I understand -how you did it. I don't feel hard toward you. They were more to -blame than you.” - -Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from his trousers pocket. -He had begun to cry. He turned away from Alexandra. “I never -did mean to do not'ing to dat woman,” he muttered. “I never mean -to do not'ing to dat boy. I ain't had not'ing ag'in' dat boy. I -always like dat boy fine. An' then I find him--” He stopped. The -feeling went out of his face and eyes. He dropped into a chair -and sat looking stolidly at the floor, his hands hanging loosely -between his knees, the handkerchief lying across his striped leg. -He seemed to have stirred up in his mind a disgust that had paralyzed -his faculties. - -“I haven't come up here to blame you, Frank. I think they were -more to blame than you.” Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. - -Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of the office window. “I -guess dat place all go to hell what I work so hard on,” he said -with a slow, bitter smile. “I not care a damn.” He stopped and -rubbed the palm of his hand over the light bristles on his head -with annoyance. “I no can t'ink without my hair,” he complained. -“I forget English. We not talk here, except swear.” - -Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to have undergone a change -of personality. There was scarcely anything by which she could -recognize her handsome Bohemian neighbor. He seemed, somehow, not -altogether human. She did not know what to say to him. +suddenly, “I hope you’ll let me be friendly with you. I understand how +you did it. I don’t feel hard toward you. They were more to blame than +you.” + +Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from his trousers pocket. He had +begun to cry. He turned away from Alexandra. “I never did mean to do +not’ing to dat woman,” he muttered. “I never mean to do not’ing to dat +boy. I ain’t had not’ing ag’in’ dat boy. I always like dat boy fine. +An’ then I find him—” He stopped. The feeling went out of his face and +eyes. He dropped into a chair and sat looking stolidly at the floor, +his hands hanging loosely between his knees, the handkerchief lying +across his striped leg. He seemed to have stirred up in his mind a +disgust that had paralyzed his faculties. + +“I haven’t come up here to blame you, Frank. I think they were more to +blame than you.” Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. + +Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of the office window. “I guess +dat place all go to hell what I work so hard on,” he said with a slow, +bitter smile. “I not care a damn.” He stopped and rubbed the palm of +his hand over the light bristles on his head with annoyance. “I no can +t’ink without my hair,” he complained. “I forget English. We not talk +here, except swear.” + +Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to have undergone a change of +personality. There was scarcely anything by which she could recognize +her handsome Bohemian neighbor. He seemed, somehow, not altogether +human. She did not know what to say to him. “You do not feel hard to me, Frank?” she asked at last. -Frank clenched his fist and broke out in excitement. “I not feel -hard at no woman. I tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit -my wife. No, never I hurt her when she devil me something awful!” - He struck his fist down on the warden's desk so hard that he -afterward stroked it absently. A pale pink crept over his neck and -face. “Two, t'ree years I know dat woman don' care no more 'bout -me, Alexandra Bergson. I know she after some other man. I know -her, oo-oo! An' I ain't never hurt her. I never would-a done -dat, if I ain't had dat gun along. I don' know what in hell make -me take dat gun. She always say I ain't no man to carry gun. If -she been in dat house, where she ought-a been--But das a foolish -talk.” - -Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, as he had stopped -before. Alexandra felt that there was something strange in the way -he chilled off, as if something came up in him that extinguished -his power of feeling or thinking. - -“Yes, Frank,” she said kindly. “I know you never meant to hurt -Marie.” - -Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled slowly with tears. -“You know, I most forgit dat woman's name. She ain't got no name -for me no more. I never hate my wife, but dat woman what make me -do dat--Honest to God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I -don' want to kill no boy and no woman. I not care how many men -she take under dat tree. I no care for not'ing but dat fine boy -I kill, Alexandra Bergson. I guess I go crazy sure 'nough.” - -Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane she had found in Frank's -clothes-closet. She thought of how he had come to this country a -gay young fellow, so attractive that the prettiest Bohemian girl -in Omaha had run away with him. It seemed unreasonable that life -should have landed him in such a place as this. She blamed Marie -bitterly. And why, with her happy, affectionate nature, should -she have brought destruction and sorrow to all who had loved her, -even to poor old Joe Tovesky, the uncle who used to carry her about -so proudly when she was a little girl? That was the strangest thing -of all. Was there, then, something wrong in being warm-hearted -and impulsive like that? Alexandra hated to think so. But there -was Emil, in the Norwegian graveyard at home, and here was Frank -Shabata. Alexandra rose and took him by the hand. +Frank clenched his fist and broke out in excitement. “I not feel hard +at no woman. I tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit my wife. No, +never I hurt her when she devil me something awful!” He struck his fist +down on the warden’s desk so hard that he afterward stroked it +absently. A pale pink crept over his neck and face. “Two, t’ree years I +know dat woman don’ care no more ’bout me, Alexandra Bergson. I know +she after some other man. I know her, oo-oo! An’ I ain’t never hurt +her. I never would-a done dat, if I ain’t had dat gun along. I don’ +know what in hell make me take dat gun. She always say I ain’t no man +to carry gun. If she been in dat house, where she ought-a been—But das +a foolish talk.” + +Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, as he had stopped before. +Alexandra felt that there was something strange in the way he chilled +off, as if something came up in him that extinguished his power of +feeling or thinking. + +“Yes, Frank,” she said kindly. “I know you never meant to hurt Marie.” + +Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled slowly with tears. “You +know, I most forgit dat woman’s name. She ain’t got no name for me no +more. I never hate my wife, but dat woman what make me do dat—Honest to +God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I don’ want to kill no boy and +no woman. I not care how many men she take under dat tree. I no care +for not’ing but dat fine boy I kill, Alexandra Bergson. I guess I go +crazy sure ’nough.” + +Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane she had found in Frank’s +clothes-closet. She thought of how he had come to this country a gay +young fellow, so attractive that the prettiest Bohemian girl in Omaha +had run away with him. It seemed unreasonable that life should have +landed him in such a place as this. She blamed Marie bitterly. And why, +with her happy, affectionate nature, should she have brought +destruction and sorrow to all who had loved her, even to poor old Joe +Tovesky, the uncle who used to carry her about so proudly when she was +a little girl? That was the strangest thing of all. Was there, then, +something wrong in being warm-hearted and impulsive like that? +Alexandra hated to think so. But there was Emil, in the Norwegian +graveyard at home, and here was Frank Shabata. Alexandra rose and took +him by the hand. “Frank Shabata, I am never going to stop trying until I get you -pardoned. I'll never give the Governor any peace. I know I can -get you out of this place.” +pardoned. I’ll never give the Governor any peace. I know I can get you +out of this place.” -Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he gathered confidence from -her face. “Alexandra,” he said earnestly, “if I git out-a here, -I not trouble dis country no more. I go back where I come from; -see my mother.” +Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he gathered confidence from her +face. “Alexandra,” he said earnestly, “if I git out-a here, I not +trouble dis country no more. I go back where I come from; see my +mother.” Alexandra tried to withdraw her hand, but Frank held on to it -nervously. He put out his finger and absently touched a button -on her black jacket. “Alexandra,” he said in a low tone, looking -steadily at the button, “you ain' t'ink I use dat girl awful bad -before--” - -“No, Frank. We won't talk about that,” Alexandra said, pressing -his hand. “I can't help Emil now, so I'm going to do what I can -for you. You know I don't go away from home often, and I came up -here on purpose to tell you this.” - -The warden at the glass door looked in inquiringly. Alexandra -nodded, and he came in and touched the white button on his desk. -The guard appeared, and with a sinking heart Alexandra saw Frank -led away down the corridor. After a few words with Mr. Schwartz, -she left the prison and made her way to the street-car. She had -refused with horror the warden's cordial invitation to “go through -the institution.” As the car lurched over its uneven roadbed, back -toward Lincoln, Alexandra thought of how she and Frank had been -wrecked by the same storm and of how, although she could come out -into the sunlight, she had not much more left in her life than -he. She remembered some lines from a poem she had liked in her -schooldays:-- - - Henceforth the world will only be - A wider prison-house to me,-- - -and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her heart; some such -feeling as had twice frozen Frank Shabata's features while they -talked together. She wished she were back on the Divide. - -When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk held up one finger -and beckoned to her. As she approached his desk, he handed her a -telegram. Alexandra took the yellow envelope and looked at it in -perplexity, then stepped into the elevator without opening it. As -she walked down the corridor toward her room, she reflected that -she was, in a manner, immune from evil tidings. On reaching her -room she locked the door, and sitting down on a chair by the dresser, -opened the telegram. It was from Hanover, and it read:-- - - Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait here until you come. - Please hurry. CARL LINSTRUM. +nervously. He put out his finger and absently touched a button on her +black jacket. “Alexandra,” he said in a low tone, looking steadily at +the button, “you ain’ t’ink I use dat girl awful bad before—” + +“No, Frank. We won’t talk about that,” Alexandra said, pressing his +hand. “I can’t help Emil now, so I’m going to do what I can for you. +You know I don’t go away from home often, and I came up here on purpose +to tell you this.” + +The warden at the glass door looked in inquiringly. Alexandra nodded, +and he came in and touched the white button on his desk. The guard +appeared, and with a sinking heart Alexandra saw Frank led away down +the corridor. After a few words with Mr. Schwartz, she left the prison +and made her way to the street-car. She had refused with horror the +warden’s cordial invitation to “go through the institution.” As the car +lurched over its uneven roadbed, back toward Lincoln, Alexandra thought +of how she and Frank had been wrecked by the same storm and of how, +although she could come out into the sunlight, she had not much more +left in her life than he. She remembered some lines from a poem she had +liked in her schooldays:— + +Henceforth the world will only be +A wider prison-house to me,— + + +and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her heart; some such feeling +as had twice frozen Frank Shabata’s features while they talked +together. She wished she were back on the Divide. + +When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk held up one finger and +beckoned to her. As she approached his desk, he handed her a telegram. +Alexandra took the yellow envelope and looked at it in perplexity, then +stepped into the elevator without opening it. As she walked down the +corridor toward her room, she reflected that she was, in a manner, +immune from evil tidings. On reaching her room she locked the door, and +sitting down on a chair by the dresser, opened the telegram. It was +from Hanover, and it read:— + +Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait here until you come. Please +hurry. + + +CARL LINSTRUM. + Alexandra put her head down on the dresser and burst into tears. @@ -5776,529 +5648,508 @@ Alexandra put her head down on the dresser and burst into tears. III + The next afternoon Carl and Alexandra were walking across the fields -from Mrs. Hiller's. Alexandra had left Lincoln after midnight, -and Carl had met her at the Hanover station early in the morning. -After they reached home, Alexandra had gone over to Mrs. Hiller's -to leave a little present she had bought for her in the city. They -stayed at the old lady's door but a moment, and then came out to -spend the rest of the afternoon in the sunny fields. - -Alexandra had taken off her black traveling suit and put on -a white dress; partly because she saw that her black clothes made -Carl uncomfortable and partly because she felt oppressed by them -herself. They seemed a little like the prison where she had worn -them yesterday, and to be out of place in the open fields. Carl -had changed very little. His cheeks were browner and fuller. He -looked less like a tired scholar than when he went away a year ago, -but no one, even now, would have taken him for a man of business. -His soft, lustrous black eyes, his whimsical smile, would be less -against him in the Klondike than on the Divide. There are always -dreamers on the frontier. - -Carl and Alexandra had been talking since morning. Her letter had -never reached him. He had first learned of her misfortune from -a San Francisco paper, four weeks old, which he had picked up in -a saloon, and which contained a brief account of Frank Shabata's -trial. When he put down the paper, he had already made up his -mind that he could reach Alexandra as quickly as a letter could; -and ever since he had been on the way; day and night, by the fastest -boats and trains he could catch. His steamer had been held back -two days by rough weather. - -As they came out of Mrs. Hiller's garden they took up their talk -again where they had left it. +from Mrs. Hiller’s. Alexandra had left Lincoln after midnight, and Carl +had met her at the Hanover station early in the morning. After they +reached home, Alexandra had gone over to Mrs. Hiller’s to leave a +little present she had bought for her in the city. They stayed at the +old lady’s door but a moment, and then came out to spend the rest of +the afternoon in the sunny fields. + +Alexandra had taken off her black traveling suit and put on a white +dress; partly because she saw that her black clothes made Carl +uncomfortable and partly because she felt oppressed by them herself. +They seemed a little like the prison where she had worn them yesterday, +and to be out of place in the open fields. Carl had changed very +little. His cheeks were browner and fuller. He looked less like a tired +scholar than when he went away a year ago, but no one, even now, would +have taken him for a man of business. His soft, lustrous black eyes, +his whimsical smile, would be less against him in the Klondike than on +the Divide. There are always dreamers on the frontier. + +Carl and Alexandra had been talking since morning. Her letter had never +reached him. He had first learned of her misfortune from a San +Francisco paper, four weeks old, which he had picked up in a saloon, +and which contained a brief account of Frank Shabata’s trial. When he +put down the paper, he had already made up his mind that he could reach +Alexandra as quickly as a letter could; and ever since he had been on +the way; day and night, by the fastest boats and trains he could catch. +His steamer had been held back two days by rough weather. + +As they came out of Mrs. Hiller’s garden they took up their talk again +where they had left it. “But could you come away like that, Carl, without arranging things? Could you just walk off and leave your business?” Alexandra asked. -Carl laughed. “Prudent Alexandra! You see, my dear, I happen to -have an honest partner. I trust him with everything. In fact, -it's been his enterprise from the beginning, you know. I'm in it -only because he took me in. I'll have to go back in the spring. -Perhaps you will want to go with me then. We haven't turned up -millions yet, but we've got a start that's worth following. But -this winter I'd like to spend with you. You won't feel that we -ought to wait longer, on Emil's account, will you, Alexandra?” - -Alexandra shook her head. “No, Carl; I don't feel that way about -it. And surely you needn't mind anything Lou and Oscar say now. -They are much angrier with me about Emil, now, than about you. -They say it was all my fault. That I ruined him by sending him to -college.” - -“No, I don't care a button for Lou or Oscar. The moment I knew -you were in trouble, the moment I thought you might need me, it all -looked different. You've always been a triumphant kind of person.” - Carl hesitated, looking sidewise at her strong, full figure. “But -you do need me now, Alexandra?” - -She put her hand on his arm. “I needed you terribly when it -happened, Carl. I cried for you at night. Then everything seemed -to get hard inside of me, and I thought perhaps I should never care -for you again. But when I got your telegram yesterday, then--then -it was just as it used to be. You are all I have in the world, -you know.” - -Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were passing the Shabatas' -empty house now, but they avoided the orchard path and took one -that led over by the pasture pond. - -“Can you understand it, Carl?” Alexandra murmured. “I have had -nobody but Ivar and Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you -understand it? Could you have believed that of Marie Tovesky? I -would have been cut to pieces, little by little, before I would -have betrayed her trust in me!” - -Carl looked at the shining spot of water before them. “Maybe she -was cut to pieces, too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they -both did. That was why Emil went to Mexico, of course. And he was -going away again, you tell me, though he had only been home three -weeks. You remember that Sunday when I went with Emil up to -the French Church fair? I thought that day there was some kind -of feeling, something unusual, between them. I meant to talk to -you about it. But on my way back I met Lou and Oscar and got so -angry that I forgot everything else. You mustn't be hard on them, -Alexandra. Sit down here by the pond a minute. I want to tell -you something.” +Carl laughed. “Prudent Alexandra! You see, my dear, I happen to have an +honest partner. I trust him with everything. In fact, it’s been his +enterprise from the beginning, you know. I’m in it only because he took +me in. I’ll have to go back in the spring. Perhaps you will want to go +with me then. We haven’t turned up millions yet, but we’ve got a start +that’s worth following. But this winter I’d like to spend with you. You +won’t feel that we ought to wait longer, on Emil’s account, will you, +Alexandra?” + +Alexandra shook her head. “No, Carl; I don’t feel that way about it. +And surely you needn’t mind anything Lou and Oscar say now. They are +much angrier with me about Emil, now, than about you. They say it was +all my fault. That I ruined him by sending him to college.” + +“No, I don’t care a button for Lou or Oscar. The moment I knew you were +in trouble, the moment I thought you might need me, it all looked +different. You’ve always been a triumphant kind of person.” Carl +hesitated, looking sidewise at her strong, full figure. “But you do +need me now, Alexandra?” + +She put her hand on his arm. “I needed you terribly when it happened, +Carl. I cried for you at night. Then everything seemed to get hard +inside of me, and I thought perhaps I should never care for you again. +But when I got your telegram yesterday, then—then it was just as it +used to be. You are all I have in the world, you know.” + +Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were passing the Shabatas’ empty +house now, but they avoided the orchard path and took one that led over +by the pasture pond. + +“Can you understand it, Carl?” Alexandra murmured. “I have had nobody +but Ivar and Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you understand it? +Could you have believed that of Marie Tovesky? I would have been cut to +pieces, little by little, before I would have betrayed her trust in +me!” + +Carl looked at the shining spot of water before them. “Maybe she was +cut to pieces, too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they both did. +That was why Emil went to Mexico, of course. And he was going away +again, you tell me, though he had only been home three weeks. You +remember that Sunday when I went with Emil up to the French Church +fair? I thought that day there was some kind of feeling, something +unusual, between them. I meant to talk to you about it. But on my way +back I met Lou and Oscar and got so angry that I forgot everything +else. You mustn’t be hard on them, Alexandra. Sit down here by the pond +a minute. I want to tell you something.” They sat down on the grass-tufted bank and Carl told her how he had -seen Emil and Marie out by the pond that morning, more than a year -ago, and how young and charming and full of grace they had seemed -to him. “It happens like that in the world sometimes, Alexandra,” - he added earnestly. “I've seen it before. There are women who -spread ruin around them through no fault of theirs, just by being -too beautiful, too full of life and love. They can't help it. -People come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter. I used -to feel that in her when she was a little girl. Do you remember -how all the Bohemians crowded round her in the store that day, when -she gave Emil her candy? You remember those yellow sparks in her -eyes?” - -Alexandra sighed. “Yes. People couldn't help loving her. Poor -Frank does, even now, I think; though he's got himself in such -a tangle that for a long time his love has been bitterer than his -hate. But if you saw there was anything wrong, you ought to have -told me, Carl.” - -Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. “My dear, it was something -one felt in the air, as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in -summer. I didn't SEE anything. Simply, when I was with those two -young things, I felt my blood go quicker, I felt--how shall I say -it?--an acceleration of life. After I got away, it was all too -delicate, too intangible, to write about.” - -Alexandra looked at him mournfully. “I try to be more liberal -about such things than I used to be. I try to realize that we are -not all made alike. Only, why couldn't it have been Raoul Marcel, -or Jan Smirka? Why did it have to be my boy?” - -“Because he was the best there was, I suppose. They were both the -best you had here.” - -The sun was dropping low in the west when the two friends rose and -took the path again. The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, -the owls were flying home to the prairie-dog town. When they came -to the corner where the pastures joined, Alexandra's twelve young -colts were galloping in a drove over the brow of the hill. - -“Carl,” said Alexandra, “I should like to go up there with you in -the spring. I haven't been on the water since we crossed the ocean, -when I was a little girl. After we first came out here I used -to dream sometimes about the shipyard where father worked, and a -little sort of inlet, full of masts.” Alexandra paused. After a -moment's thought she said, “But you would never ask me to go away -for good, would you?” +seen Emil and Marie out by the pond that morning, more than a year ago, +and how young and charming and full of grace they had seemed to him. +“It happens like that in the world sometimes, Alexandra,” he added +earnestly. “I’ve seen it before. There are women who spread ruin around +them through no fault of theirs, just by being too beautiful, too full +of life and love. They can’t help it. People come to them as people go +to a warm fire in winter. I used to feel that in her when she was a +little girl. Do you remember how all the Bohemians crowded round her in +the store that day, when she gave Emil her candy? You remember those +yellow sparks in her eyes?” + +Alexandra sighed. “Yes. People couldn’t help loving her. Poor Frank +does, even now, I think; though he’s got himself in such a tangle that +for a long time his love has been bitterer than his hate. But if you +saw there was anything wrong, you ought to have told me, Carl.” + +Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. “My dear, it was something one +felt in the air, as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in summer. I +didn’t _see_ anything. Simply, when I was with those two young things, +I felt my blood go quicker, I felt—how shall I say it?—an acceleration +of life. After I got away, it was all too delicate, too intangible, to +write about.” + +Alexandra looked at him mournfully. “I try to be more liberal about +such things than I used to be. I try to realize that we are not all +made alike. Only, why couldn’t it have been Raoul Marcel, or Jan +Smirka? Why did it have to be my boy?” + +“Because he was the best there was, I suppose. They were both the best +you had here.” + +The sun was dropping low in the west when the two friends rose and took +the path again. The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, the owls +were flying home to the prairie-dog town. When they came to the corner +where the pastures joined, Alexandra’s twelve young colts were +galloping in a drove over the brow of the hill. + +“Carl,” said Alexandra, “I should like to go up there with you in the +spring. I haven’t been on the water since we crossed the ocean, when I +was a little girl. After we first came out here I used to dream +sometimes about the shipyard where father worked, and a little sort of +inlet, full of masts.” Alexandra paused. After a moment’s thought she +said, “But you would never ask me to go away for good, would you?” “Of course not, my dearest. I think I know how you feel about this -country as well as you do yourself.” Carl took her hand in both -his own and pressed it tenderly. - -“Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is gone. When I was on -the train this morning, and we got near Hanover, I felt something -like I did when I drove back with Emil from the river that time, -in the dry year. I was glad to come back to it. I've lived here -a long time. There is great peace here, Carl, and freedom.... -I thought when I came out of that prison, where poor Frank is, -that I should never feel free again. But I do, here.” Alexandra -took a deep breath and looked off into the red west. - -“You belong to the land,” Carl murmured, “as you have always said. -Now more than ever.” - -“Yes, now more than ever. You remember what you once said about -the graveyard, and the old story writing itself over? Only it is -we who write it, with the best we have.” - -They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, overlooking the -house and the windmill and the stables that marked the site of John -Bergson's homestead. On every side the brown waves of the earth -rolled away to meet the sky. - -“Lou and Oscar can't see those things,” said Alexandra suddenly. -“Suppose I do will my land to their children, what difference will -that make? The land belongs to the future, Carl; that's the way -it seems to me. How many of the names on the county clerk's plat -will be there in fifty years? I might as well try to will the -sunset over there to my brother's children. We come and go, but -the land is always here. And the people who love it and understand -it are the people who own it--for a little while.” - -Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was still gazing into the west, -and in her face there was that exalted serenity that sometimes came -to her at moments of deep feeling. The level rays of the sinking -sun shone in her clear eyes. +country as well as you do yourself.” Carl took her hand in both his own +and pressed it tenderly. + +“Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is gone. When I was on the +train this morning, and we got near Hanover, I felt something like I +did when I drove back with Emil from the river that time, in the dry +year. I was glad to come back to it. I’ve lived here a long time. There +is great peace here, Carl, and freedom.... I thought when I came out of +that prison, where poor Frank is, that I should never feel free again. +But I do, here.” Alexandra took a deep breath and looked off into the +red west. + +“You belong to the land,” Carl murmured, “as you have always said. Now +more than ever.” + +“Yes, now more than ever. You remember what you once said about the +graveyard, and the old story writing itself over? Only it is we who +write it, with the best we have.” + +They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, overlooking the house and +the windmill and the stables that marked the site of John Bergson’s +homestead. On every side the brown waves of the earth rolled away to +meet the sky. + +“Lou and Oscar can’t see those things,” said Alexandra suddenly. +“Suppose I do will my land to their children, what difference will that +make? The land belongs to the future, Carl; that’s the way it seems to +me. How many of the names on the county clerk’s plat will be there in +fifty years? I might as well try to will the sunset over there to my +brother’s children. We come and go, but the land is always here. And +the people who love it and understand it are the people who own it—for +a little while.” + +Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was still gazing into the west, and +in her face there was that exalted serenity that sometimes came to her +at moments of deep feeling. The level rays of the sinking sun shone in +her clear eyes. “Why are you thinking of such things now, Alexandra?” -“I had a dream before I went to Lincoln--But I will tell you about -that afterward, after we are married. It will never come true, -now, in the way I thought it might.” She took Carl's arm and they -walked toward the gate. “How many times we have walked this path -together, Carl. How many times we will walk it again! Does it seem -to you like coming back to your own place? Do you feel at peace -with the world here? I think we shall be very happy. I haven't -any fears. I think when friends marry, they are safe. We don't -suffer like--those young ones.” Alexandra ended with a sigh. +“I had a dream before I went to Lincoln—But I will tell you about that +afterward, after we are married. It will never come true, now, in the +way I thought it might.” She took Carl’s arm and they walked toward the +gate. “How many times we have walked this path together, Carl. How many +times we will walk it again! Does it seem to you like coming back to +your own place? Do you feel at peace with the world here? I think we +shall be very happy. I haven’t any fears. I think when friends marry, +they are safe. We don’t suffer like—those young ones.” Alexandra ended +with a sigh. -They had reached the gate. Before Carl opened it, he drew Alexandra -to him and kissed her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. +They had reached the gate. Before Carl opened it, he drew Alexandra to +him and kissed her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. -She leaned heavily on his shoulder. “I am tired,” she murmured. -“I have been very lonely, Carl.” +She leaned heavily on his shoulder. “I am tired,” she murmured. “I have +been very lonely, Carl.” They went into the house together, leaving the Divide behind them, -under the evening star. Fortunate country, that is one day to -receive hearts like Alexandra's into its bosom, to give them out -again in the yellow wheat, in the rustling corn, in the shining -eyes of youth! +under the evening star. Fortunate country, that is one day to receive +hearts like Alexandra’s into its bosom, to give them out again in the +yellow wheat, in the rustling corn, in the shining eyes of youth! +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! *** -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of O Pioneers!, by Willa Cather +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! *** +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-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: O Pioneers! - -Author: Willa Cather - -Release Date: June 25, 2008 [EBook #24] -Last Updated: March 9, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! *** - - - - -Produced by Martin Robb and David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h1> - O PIONEERS! - </h1> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h2> - by Willa Cather - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <a href="#link2H_PART"> <b>PART I. The Wild Land</b> </a><br /> <a - href="#link2H_4_0002"> I </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II - </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V - </a><br /> <br /> <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART II. Neighboring Fields</b> - </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> I </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0009"> II </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> III - </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IV </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0012"> V </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> VI - </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> VII </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0015"> VIII </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> - IX </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> X </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0018"> XI </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XII - </a><br /> <br /> <a href="#link2H_PART3"> <b>PART III. Winter Memories</b> - </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> I </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0022"> II </a><br /> <br /> <a - href="#link2H_PART4"> <b>PART IV. The White Mulberry Tree</b> </a><br /> - <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> I </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> - II </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> III </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0027"> IV </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> V - </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> VI </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0030"> VII </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> - VIII </a><br /> <br /> <a href="#link2H_PART5"> <b>PART V. - Alexandra</b> </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> I </a> <a - href="#link2H_4_0034"> II </a> <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> III - </a> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <h2> - PART I. The Wild Land - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I - </h2> - <p> - One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, anchored on - a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown away. A mist of - fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the cluster of low drab - buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a gray sky. The - dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the tough prairie sod; some of - them looked as if they had been moved in overnight, and others as if they - were straying off by themselves, headed straight for the open plain. None - of them had any appearance of permanence, and the howling wind blew under - them as well as over them. The main street was a deeply rutted road, now - frozen hard, which ran from the squat red railway station and the grain - “elevator” at the north end of the town to the lumber yard and the horse - pond at the south end. On either side of this road straggled two uneven - rows of wooden buildings; the general merchandise stores, the two banks, - the drug store, the feed store, the saloon, the post-office. The board - sidewalks were gray with trampled snow, but at two o'clock in the - afternoon the shopkeepers, having come back from dinner, were keeping well - behind their frosty windows. The children were all in school, and there - was nobody abroad in the streets but a few rough-looking countrymen in - coarse overcoats, with their long caps pulled down to their noses. Some of - them had brought their wives to town, and now and then a red or a plaid - shawl flashed out of one store into the shelter of another. At the - hitch-bars along the street a few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm - wagons, shivered under their blankets. About the station everything was - quiet, for there would not be another train in until night. - </p> - <p> - On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede boy, - crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth coat was - much too big for him and made him look like a little old man. His shrunken - brown flannel dress had been washed many times and left a long stretch of - stocking between the hem of his skirt and the tops of his clumsy, - copper-toed shoes. His cap was pulled down over his ears; his nose and his - chubby cheeks were chapped and red with cold. He cried quietly, and the - few people who hurried by did not notice him. He was afraid to stop any - one, afraid to go into the store and ask for help, so he sat wringing his - long sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole beside him, whimpering, “My - kitten, oh, my kitten! Her will fweeze!” At the top of the pole crouched a - shivering gray kitten, mewing faintly and clinging desperately to the wood - with her claws. The boy had been left at the store while his sister went - to the doctor's office, and in her absence a dog had chased his kitten up - the pole. The little creature had never been so high before, and she was - too frightened to move. Her master was sunk in despair. He was a little - country boy, and this village was to him a very strange and perplexing - place, where people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. He always felt - shy and awkward here, and wanted to hide behind things for fear some one - might laugh at him. Just now, he was too unhappy to care who laughed. At - last he seemed to see a ray of hope: his sister was coming, and he got up - and ran toward her in his heavy shoes. - </p> - <p> - His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she walked rapidly and resolutely, - as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she was going to do - next. She wore a man's long ulster (not as if it were an affliction, but - as if it were very comfortable and belonged to her; carried it like a - young soldier), and a round plush cap, tied down with a thick veil. She - had a serious, thoughtful face, and her clear, deep blue eyes were fixed - intently on the distance, without seeming to see anything, as if she were - in trouble. She did not notice the little boy until he pulled her by the - coat. Then she stopped short and stooped down to wipe his wet face. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. What is - the matter with you?” - </p> - <p> - “My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased her up - there.” His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his coat, pointed up - to the wretched little creature on the pole. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Emil! Didn't I tell you she'd get us into trouble of some kind, if - you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, I ought to have - known better myself.” She went to the foot of the pole and held out her - arms, crying, “Kitty, kitty, kitty,” but the kitten only mewed and faintly - waved its tail. Alexandra turned away decidedly. “No, she won't come down. - Somebody will have to go up after her. I saw the Linstrums' wagon in town. - I'll go and see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do something. Only you - must stop crying, or I won't go a step. Where's your comforter? Did you - leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold still, till I put this on you.” - </p> - <p> - She unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his throat. A - shabby little traveling man, who was just then coming out of the store on - his way to the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly at the shining mass of - hair she bared when she took off her veil; two thick braids, pinned about - her head in the German way, with a fringe of reddish-yellow curls blowing - out from under her cap. He took his cigar out of his mouth and held the - wet end between the fingers of his woolen glove. “My God, girl, what a - head of hair!” he exclaimed, quite innocently and foolishly. She stabbed - him with a glance of Amazonian fierceness and drew in her lower lip—most - unnecessary severity. It gave the little clothing drummer such a start - that he actually let his cigar fall to the sidewalk and went off weakly in - the teeth of the wind to the saloon. His hand was still unsteady when he - took his glass from the bartender. His feeble flirtatious instincts had - been crushed before, but never so mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, - as if some one had taken advantage of him. When a drummer had been - knocking about in little drab towns and crawling across the wintry country - in dirty smoking-cars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced upon a fine - human creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a man? - </p> - <p> - While the little drummer was drinking to recover his nerve, Alexandra - hurried to the drug store as the most likely place to find Carl Linstrum. - There he was, turning over a portfolio of chromo “studies” which the - druggist sold to the Hanover women who did china-painting. Alexandra - explained her predicament, and the boy followed her to the corner, where - Emil still sat by the pole. - </p> - <p> - “I'll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot they have - some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute.” Carl thrust his hands - into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up the street against the - north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, slight and narrow-chested. When - he came back with the spikes, Alexandra asked him what he had done with - his overcoat. - </p> - <p> - “I left it in the drug store. I couldn't climb in it, anyhow. Catch me if - I fall, Emil,” he called back as he began his ascent. Alexandra watched - him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the ground. The kitten would - not budge an inch. Carl had to go to the very top of the pole, and then - had some difficulty in tearing her from her hold. When he reached the - ground, he handed the cat to her tearful little master. “Now go into the - store with her, Emil, and get warm.” He opened the door for the child. - “Wait a minute, Alexandra. Why can't I drive for you as far as our place? - It's getting colder every minute. Have you seen the doctor?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father can't get better; - can't get well.” The girl's lip trembled. She looked fixedly up the bleak - street as if she were gathering her strength to face something, as if she - were trying with all her might to grasp a situation which, no matter how - painful, must be met and dealt with somehow. The wind flapped the skirts - of her heavy coat about her. - </p> - <p> - Carl did not say anything, but she felt his sympathy. He, too, was lonely. - He was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very quiet in all his - movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin face, and his mouth was - too sensitive for a boy's. The lips had already a little curl of - bitterness and skepticism. The two friends stood for a few moments on the - windy street corner, not speaking a word, as two travelers, who have lost - their way, sometimes stand and admit their perplexity in silence. When - Carl turned away he said, “I'll see to your team.” Alexandra went into the - store to have her purchases packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm - before she set out on her long cold drive. - </p> - <p> - When she looked for Emil, she found him sitting on a step of the staircase - that led up to the clothing and carpet department. He was playing with a - little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was tying her handkerchief over - the kitten's head for a bonnet. Marie was a stranger in the country, - having come from Omaha with her mother to visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. - She was a dark child, with brown curly hair, like a brunette doll's, a - coaxing little red mouth, and round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one noticed - her eyes; the brown iris had golden glints that made them look like - gold-stone, or, in softer lights, like that Colorado mineral called - tiger-eye. - </p> - <p> - The country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their shoe-tops, - but this city child was dressed in what was then called the “Kate - Greenaway” manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered full from the - yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her poke bonnet, gave her the - look of a quaint little woman. She had a white fur tippet about her neck - and made no fussy objections when Emil fingered it admiringly. Alexandra - had not the heart to take him away from so pretty a playfellow, and she - let them tease the kitten together until Joe Tovesky came in noisily and - picked up his little niece, setting her on his shoulder for every one to - see. His children were all boys, and he adored this little creature. His - cronies formed a circle about him, admiring and teasing the little girl, - who took their jokes with great good nature. They were all delighted with - her, for they seldom saw so pretty and carefully nurtured a child. They - told her that she must choose one of them for a sweetheart, and each began - pressing his suit and offering her bribes; candy, and little pigs, and - spotted calves. She looked archly into the big, brown, mustached faces, - smelling of spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny forefinger - delicately over Joe's bristly chin and said, “Here is my sweetheart.” - </p> - <p> - The Bohemians roared with laughter, and Marie's uncle hugged her until she - cried, “Please don't, Uncle Joe! You hurt me.” Each of Joe's friends gave - her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all around, though she did not - like country candy very well. Perhaps that was why she bethought herself - of Emil. “Let me down, Uncle Joe,” she said, “I want to give some of my - candy to that nice little boy I found.” She walked graciously over to - Emil, followed by her lusty admirers, who formed a new circle and teased - the little boy until he hid his face in his sister's skirts, and she had - to scold him for being such a baby. - </p> - <p> - The farm people were making preparations to start for home. The women were - checking over their groceries and pinning their big red shawls about their - heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy with what money they had - left, were showing each other new boots and gloves and blue flannel - shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking raw alcohol, tinctured with oil - of cinnamon. This was said to fortify one effectually against the cold, - and they smacked their lips after each pull at the flask. Their volubility - drowned every other noise in the place, and the overheated store sounded - of their spirited language as it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens, and - kerosene. - </p> - <p> - Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with a brass - handle. “Come,” he said, “I've fed and watered your team, and the wagon is - ready.” He carried Emil out and tucked him down in the straw in the - wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy sleepy, but he still clung to - his kitten. - </p> - <p> - “You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. When I get - big I'll climb and get little boys' kittens for them,” he murmured - drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, Emil and his cat - were both fast asleep. - </p> - <p> - Although it was only four o'clock, the winter day was fading. The road led - southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that glimmered in the - leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young faces that were turned - mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, who seemed to be looking with - such anguished perplexity into the future; upon the sombre eyes of the - boy, who seemed already to be looking into the past. The little town - behind them had vanished as if it had never been, had fallen behind the - swell of the prairie, and the stern frozen country received them into its - bosom. The homesteads were few and far apart; here and there a windmill - gaunt against the sky, a sod house crouching in a hollow. But the great - fact was the land itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little beginnings - of human society that struggled in its sombre wastes. It was from facing - this vast hardness that the boy's mouth had become so bitter; because he - felt that men were too weak to make any mark here, that the land wanted to - be let alone, to preserve its own fierce strength, its peculiar, savage - kind of beauty, its uninterrupted mournfulness. - </p> - <p> - The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had less to - say to each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow penetrated to - their hearts. - </p> - <p> - “Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut wood to-day?” Carl asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I'm almost sorry I let them go, it's turned so cold. But mother - frets if the wood gets low.” She stopped and put her hand to her forehead, - brushing back her hair. “I don't know what is to become of us, Carl, if - father has to die. I don't dare to think about it. I wish we could all go - with him and let the grass grow back over everything.” - </p> - <p> - Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was the Norwegian graveyard, where - the grass had, indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy and red, hiding - even the wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a very helpful - companion, but there was nothing he could say. - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, “the boys - are strong and work hard, but we've always depended so on father that I - don't see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if there were nothing to - go ahead for.” - </p> - <p> - “Does your father know?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. I think - he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It's a comfort to him - that my chickens are laying right on through the cold weather and bringing - in a little money. I wish we could keep his mind off such things, but I - don't have much time to be with him now.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if he'd like to have me bring my magic lantern over some - evening?” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra turned her face toward him. “Oh, Carl! Have you got it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. It's back there in the straw. Didn't you notice the box I was - carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, and it worked - ever so well, makes fine big pictures.” - </p> - <p> - “What are they about?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny pictures - about cannibals. I'm going to paint some slides for it on glass, out of - the Hans Andersen book.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of the child - left in people who have had to grow up too soon. “Do bring it over, Carl. - I can hardly wait to see it, and I'm sure it will please father. Are the - pictures colored? Then I know he'll like them. He likes the calendars I - get him in town. I wish I could get more. You must leave me here, mustn't - you? It's been nice to have company.” - </p> - <p> - Carl stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. “It's - pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but I think I'd - better light your lantern, in case you should need it.” - </p> - <p> - He gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where he - crouched down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen trials he - succeeded in lighting the lantern, which he placed in front of Alexandra, - half covering it with a blanket so that the light would not shine in her - eyes. “Now, wait until I find my box. Yes, here it is. Good-night, - Alexandra. Try not to worry.” Carl sprang to the ground and ran off across - the fields toward the Linstrum homestead. “Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!” he called back - as he disappeared over a ridge and dropped into a sand gully. The wind - answered him like an echo, “Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!” Alexandra drove off - alone. The rattle of her wagon was lost in the howling of the wind, but - her lantern, held firmly between her feet, made a moving point of light - along the highway, going deeper and deeper into the dark country. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II - </h2> - <p> - On one of the ridges of that wintry waste stood the low log house in which - John Bergson was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier to find than many - another, because it overlooked Norway Creek, a shallow, muddy stream that - sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood still, at the bottom of a winding - ravine with steep, shelving sides overgrown with brush and cottonwoods and - dwarf ash. This creek gave a sort of identity to the farms that bordered - upon it. Of all the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of - human landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening. The - houses on the Divide were small and were usually tucked away in low - places; you did not see them until you came directly upon them. Most of - them were built of the sod itself, and were only the unescapable ground in - another form. The roads were but faint tracks in the grass, and the fields - were scarcely noticeable. The record of the plow was insignificant, like - the feeble scratches on stone left by prehistoric races, so indeterminate - that they may, after all, be only the markings of glaciers, and not a - record of human strivings. - </p> - <p> - In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression upon the - wild land he had come to tame. It was still a wild thing that had its ugly - moods; and no one knew when they were likely to come, or why. Mischance - hung over it. Its Genius was unfriendly to man. The sick man was feeling - this as he lay looking out of the window, after the doctor had left him, - on the day following Alexandra's trip to town. There it lay outside his - door, the same land, the same lead-colored miles. He knew every ridge and - draw and gully between him and the horizon. To the south, his plowed - fields; to the east, the sod stables, the cattle corral, the pond,—and - then the grass. - </p> - <p> - Bergson went over in his mind the things that had held him back. One - winter his cattle had perished in a blizzard. The next summer one of his - plow horses broke its leg in a prairiedog hole and had to be shot. Another - summer he lost his hogs from cholera, and a valuable stallion died from a - rattlesnake bite. Time and again his crops had failed. He had lost two - children, boys, that came between Lou and Emil, and there had been the - cost of sickness and death. Now, when he had at last struggled out of - debt, he was going to die himself. He was only forty-six, and had, of - course, counted upon more time. - </p> - <p> - Bergson had spent his first five years on the Divide getting into debt, - and the last six getting out. He had paid off his mortgages and had ended - pretty much where he began, with the land. He owned exactly six hundred - and forty acres of what stretched outside his door; his own original - homestead and timber claim, making three hundred and twenty acres, and the - half-section adjoining, the homestead of a younger brother who had given - up the fight, gone back to Chicago to work in a fancy bakery and - distinguish himself in a Swedish athletic club. So far John had not - attempted to cultivate the second half-section, but used it for pasture - land, and one of his sons rode herd there in open weather. - </p> - <p> - John Bergson had the Old-World belief that land, in itself, is desirable. - But this land was an enigma. It was like a horse that no one knows how to - break to harness, that runs wild and kicks things to pieces. He had an - idea that no one understood how to farm it properly, and this he often - discussed with Alexandra. Their neighbors, certainly, knew even less about - farming than he did. Many of them had never worked on a farm until they - took up their homesteads. They had been HANDWERKERS at home; tailors, - locksmiths, joiners, cigar-makers, etc. Bergson himself had worked in a - shipyard. - </p> - <p> - For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking about these things. His bed - stood in the sitting-room, next to the kitchen. Through the day, while the - baking and washing and ironing were going on, the father lay and looked up - at the roof beams that he himself had hewn, or out at the cattle in the - corral. He counted the cattle over and over. It diverted him to speculate - as to how much weight each of the steers would probably put on by spring. - He often called his daughter in to talk to her about this. Before - Alexandra was twelve years old she had begun to be a help to him, and as - she grew older he had come to depend more and more upon her - resourcefulness and good judgment. His boys were willing enough to work, - but when he talked with them they usually irritated him. It was Alexandra - who read the papers and followed the markets, and who learned by the - mistakes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who could always tell about - what it had cost to fatten each steer, and who could guess the weight of a - hog before it went on the scales closer than John Bergson himself. Lou and - Oscar were industrious, but he could never teach them to use their heads - about their work. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra, her father often said to himself, was like her grandfather; - which was his way of saying that she was intelligent. John Bergson's - father had been a shipbuilder, a man of considerable force and of some - fortune. Late in life he married a second time, a Stockholm woman of - questionable character, much younger than he, who goaded him into every - sort of extravagance. On the shipbuilder's part, this marriage was an - infatuation, the despairing folly of a powerful man who cannot bear to - grow old. In a few years his unprincipled wife warped the probity of a - lifetime. He speculated, lost his own fortune and funds entrusted to him - by poor seafaring men, and died disgraced, leaving his children nothing. - But when all was said, he had come up from the sea himself, had built up a - proud little business with no capital but his own skill and foresight, and - had proved himself a man. In his daughter, John Bergson recognized the - strength of will, and the simple direct way of thinking things out, that - had characterized his father in his better days. He would much rather, of - course, have seen this likeness in one of his sons, but it was not a - question of choice. As he lay there day after day he had to accept the - situation as it was, and to be thankful that there was one among his - children to whom he could entrust the future of his family and the - possibilities of his hard-won land. - </p> - <p> - The winter twilight was fading. The sick man heard his wife strike a match - in the kitchen, and the light of a lamp glimmered through the cracks of - the door. It seemed like a light shining far away. He turned painfully in - his bed and looked at his white hands, with all the work gone out of them. - He was ready to give up, he felt. He did not know how it had come about, - but he was quite willing to go deep under his fields and rest, where the - plow could not find him. He was tired of making mistakes. He was content - to leave the tangle to other hands; he thought of his Alexandra's strong - ones. - </p> - <p> - “DOTTER,” he called feebly, “DOTTER!” He heard her quick step and saw her - tall figure appear in the doorway, with the light of the lamp behind her. - He felt her youth and strength, how easily she moved and stooped and - lifted. But he would not have had it again if he could, not he! He knew - the end too well to wish to begin again. He knew where it all went to, - what it all became. - </p> - <p> - His daughter came and lifted him up on his pillows. She called him by an - old Swedish name that she used to call him when she was little and took - his dinner to him in the shipyard. - </p> - <p> - “Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I want to speak to them.” - </p> - <p> - “They are feeding the horses, father. They have just come back from the - Blue. Shall I call them?” - </p> - <p> - He sighed. “No, no. Wait until they come in. Alexandra, you will have to - do the best you can for your brothers. Everything will come on you.” - </p> - <p> - “I will do all I can, father.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't let them get discouraged and go off like Uncle Otto. I want them to - keep the land.” - </p> - <p> - “We will, father. We will never lose the land.” - </p> - <p> - There was a sound of heavy feet in the kitchen. Alexandra went to the door - and beckoned to her brothers, two strapping boys of seventeen and - nineteen. They came in and stood at the foot of the bed. Their father - looked at them searchingly, though it was too dark to see their faces; - they were just the same boys, he told himself, he had not been mistaken in - them. The square head and heavy shoulders belonged to Oscar, the elder. - The younger boy was quicker, but vacillating. - </p> - <p> - “Boys,” said the father wearily, “I want you to keep the land together and - to be guided by your sister. I have talked to her since I have been sick, - and she knows all my wishes. I want no quarrels among my children, and so - long as there is one house there must be one head. Alexandra is the - oldest, and she knows my wishes. She will do the best she can. If she - makes mistakes, she will not make so many as I have made. When you marry, - and want a house of your own, the land will be divided fairly, according - to the courts. But for the next few years you will have it hard, and you - must all keep together. Alexandra will manage the best she can.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, replied because he was the - older, “Yes, father. It would be so anyway, without your speaking. We will - all work the place together.” - </p> - <p> - “And you will be guided by your sister, boys, and be good brothers to her, - and good sons to your mother? That is good. And Alexandra must not work in - the fields any more. There is no necessity now. Hire a man when you need - help. She can make much more with her eggs and butter than the wages of a - man. It was one of my mistakes that I did not find that out sooner. Try to - break a little more land every year; sod corn is good for fodder. Keep - turning the land, and always put up more hay than you need. Don't grudge - your mother a little time for plowing her garden and setting out fruit - trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has been a good mother to - you, and she has always missed the old country.” - </p> - <p> - When they went back to the kitchen the boys sat down silently at the - table. Throughout the meal they looked down at their plates and did not - lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, although they had been working - in the cold all day, and there was a rabbit stewed in gravy for supper, - and prune pies. - </p> - <p> - John Bergson had married beneath him, but he had married a good housewife. - Mrs. Bergson was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy and placid like - her son, Oscar, but there was something comfortable about her; perhaps it - was her own love of comfort. For eleven years she had worthily striven to - maintain some semblance of household order amid conditions that made order - very difficult. Habit was very strong with Mrs. Bergson, and her - unremitting efforts to repeat the routine of her old life among new - surroundings had done a great deal to keep the family from disintegrating - morally and getting careless in their ways. The Bergsons had a log house, - for instance, only because Mrs. Bergson would not live in a sod house. She - missed the fish diet of her own country, and twice every summer she sent - the boys to the river, twenty miles to the southward, to fish for channel - cat. When the children were little she used to load them all into the - wagon, the baby in its crib, and go fishing herself. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra often said that if her mother were cast upon a desert island, - she would thank God for her deliverance, make a garden, and find something - to preserve. Preserving was almost a mania with Mrs. Bergson. Stout as she - was, she roamed the scrubby banks of Norway Creek looking for fox grapes - and goose plums, like a wild creature in search of prey. She made a yellow - jam of the insipid ground-cherries that grew on the prairie, flavoring it - with lemon peel; and she made a sticky dark conserve of garden tomatoes. - She had experimented even with the rank buffalo-pea, and she could not see - a fine bronze cluster of them without shaking her head and murmuring, - “What a pity!” When there was nothing more to preserve, she began to - pickle. The amount of sugar she used in these processes was sometimes a - serious drain upon the family resources. She was a good mother, but she - was glad when her children were old enough not to be in her way in the - kitchen. She had never quite forgiven John Bergson for bringing her to the - end of the earth; but, now that she was there, she wanted to be let alone - to reconstruct her old life in so far as that was possible. She could - still take some comfort in the world if she had bacon in the cave, glass - jars on the shelves, and sheets in the press. She disapproved of all her - neighbors because of their slovenly housekeeping, and the women thought - her very proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on her way to Norway Creek, - stopped to see old Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in the haymow “for fear - Mis' Bergson would catch her barefoot.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III - </h2> - <p> - One Sunday afternoon in July, six months after John Bergson's death, Carl - was sitting in the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming over an - illustrated paper, when he heard the rattle of a wagon along the hill - road. Looking up he recognized the Bergsons' team, with two seats in the - wagon, which meant they were off for a pleasure excursion. Oscar and Lou, - on the front seat, wore their cloth hats and coats, never worn except on - Sundays, and Emil, on the second seat with Alexandra, sat proudly in his - new trousers, made from a pair of his father's, and a pink-striped shirt, - with a wide ruffled collar. Oscar stopped the horses and waved to Carl, - who caught up his hat and ran through the melon patch to join them. - </p> - <p> - “Want to go with us?” Lou called. “We're going to Crazy Ivar's to buy a - hammock.” - </p> - <p> - “Sure.” Carl ran up panting, and clambering over the wheel sat down beside - Emil. “I've always wanted to see Ivar's pond. They say it's the biggest in - all the country. Aren't you afraid to go to Ivar's in that new shirt, - Emil? He might want it and take it right off your back.” - </p> - <p> - Emil grinned. “I'd be awful scared to go,” he admitted, “if you big boys - weren't along to take care of me. Did you ever hear him howl, Carl? People - say sometimes he runs about the country howling at night because he is - afraid the Lord will destroy him. Mother thinks he must have done - something awful wicked.” - </p> - <p> - Lou looked back and winked at Carl. “What would you do, Emil, if you was - out on the prairie by yourself and seen him coming?” - </p> - <p> - Emil stared. “Maybe I could hide in a badger-hole,” he suggested - doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - “But suppose there wasn't any badger-hole,” Lou persisted. “Would you - run?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I'd be too scared to run,” Emil admitted mournfully, twisting his - fingers. “I guess I'd sit right down on the ground and say my prayers.” - </p> - <p> - The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished his whip over the broad backs - of the horses. - </p> - <p> - “He wouldn't hurt you, Emil,” said Carl persuasively. “He came to doctor - our mare when she ate green corn and swelled up most as big as the - water-tank. He petted her just like you do your cats. I couldn't - understand much he said, for he don't talk any English, but he kept - patting her and groaning as if he had the pain himself, and saying, 'There - now, sister, that's easier, that's better!'” - </p> - <p> - Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled delightedly and looked up at his - sister. - </p> - <p> - “I don't think he knows anything at all about doctoring,” said Oscar - scornfully. “They say when horses have distemper he takes the medicine - himself, and then prays over the horses.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra spoke up. “That's what the Crows said, but he cured their - horses, all the same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. But if you can - get him on a clear day, you can learn a great deal from him. He - understands animals. Didn't I see him take the horn off the Berquist's cow - when she had torn it loose and went crazy? She was tearing all over the - place, knocking herself against things. And at last she ran out on the - roof of the old dugout and her legs went through and there she stuck, - bellowing. Ivar came running with his white bag, and the moment he got to - her she was quiet and let him saw her horn off and daub the place with - tar.” - </p> - <p> - Emil had been watching his sister, his face reflecting the sufferings of - the cow. “And then didn't it hurt her any more?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra patted him. “No, not any more. And in two days they could use - her milk again.” - </p> - <p> - The road to Ivar's homestead was a very poor one. He had settled in the - rough country across the county line, where no one lived but some - Russians,—half a dozen families who dwelt together in one long - house, divided off like barracks. Ivar had explained his choice by saying - that the fewer neighbors he had, the fewer temptations. Nevertheless, when - one considered that his chief business was horse-doctoring, it seemed - rather short-sighted of him to live in the most inaccessible place he - could find. The Bergson wagon lurched along over the rough hummocks and - grass banks, followed the bottom of winding draws, or skirted the margin - of wide lagoons, where the golden coreopsis grew up out of the clear water - and the wild ducks rose with a whirr of wings. - </p> - <p> - Lou looked after them helplessly. “I wish I'd brought my gun, anyway, - Alexandra,” he said fretfully. “I could have hidden it under the straw in - the bottom of the wagon.” - </p> - <p> - “Then we'd have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, they say he can smell dead - birds. And if he knew, we wouldn't get anything out of him, not even a - hammock. I want to talk to him, and he won't talk sense if he's angry. It - makes him foolish.” - </p> - <p> - Lou sniffed. “Whoever heard of him talking sense, anyhow! I'd rather have - ducks for supper than Crazy Ivar's tongue.” - </p> - <p> - Emil was alarmed. “Oh, but, Lou, you don't want to make him mad! He might - howl!” - </p> - <p> - They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the horses up the crumbling side - of a clay bank. They had left the lagoons and the red grass behind them. - In Crazy Ivar's country the grass was short and gray, the draws deeper - than they were in the Bergsons' neighborhood, and the land was all broken - up into hillocks and clay ridges. The wild flowers disappeared, and only - in the bottom of the draws and gullies grew a few of the very toughest and - hardiest: shoestring, and ironweed, and snow-on-the-mountain. - </p> - <p> - “Look, look, Emil, there's Ivar's big pond!” Alexandra pointed to a - shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. At one - end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow bushes, and - above it a door and a single window were set into the hillside. You would - not have seen them at all but for the reflection of the sunlight upon the - four panes of window-glass. And that was all you saw. Not a shed, not a - corral, not a well, not even a path broken in the curly grass. But for the - piece of rusty stovepipe sticking up through the sod, you could have - walked over the roof of Ivar's dwelling without dreaming that you were - near a human habitation. Ivar had lived for three years in the clay bank, - without defiling the face of nature any more than the coyote that had - lived there before him had done. - </p> - <p> - When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar was sitting in the doorway of - his house, reading the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly shaped old man, - with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs. His shaggy white hair, - falling in a thick mane about his ruddy cheeks, made him look older than - he was. He was barefoot, but he wore a clean shirt of unbleached cotton, - open at the neck. He always put on a clean shirt when Sunday morning came - round, though he never went to church. He had a peculiar religion of his - own and could not get on with any of the denominations. Often he did not - see anybody from one week's end to another. He kept a calendar, and every - morning he checked off a day, so that he was never in any doubt as to - which day of the week it was. Ivar hired himself out in threshing and - corn-husking time, and he doctored sick animals when he was sent for. When - he was at home, he made hammocks out of twine and committed chapters of - the Bible to memory. - </p> - <p> - Ivar found contentment in the solitude he had sought out for himself. He - disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the bits of - broken china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown into the - sunflower patch. He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of the wild sod. - He always said that the badgers had cleaner houses than people, and that - when he took a housekeeper her name would be Mrs. Badger. He best - expressed his preference for his wild homestead by saying that his Bible - seemed truer to him there. If one stood in the doorway of his cave, and - looked off at the rough land, the smiling sky, the curly grass white in - the hot sunlight; if one listened to the rapturous song of the lark, the - drumming of the quail, the burr of the locust against that vast silence, - one understood what Ivar meant. - </p> - <p> - On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with happiness. He closed the book - on his knee, keeping the place with his horny finger, and repeated softly:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills; - - They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench - their thirst. - - The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which - he hath planted; - - Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees - are her house. - - The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for - the conies. -</pre> - <p> - Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard the Bergsons' wagon - approaching, and he sprang up and ran toward it. - </p> - <p> - “No guns, no guns!” he shouted, waving his arms distractedly. - </p> - <p> - “No, Ivar, no guns,” Alexandra called reassuringly. - </p> - <p> - He dropped his arms and went up to the wagon, smiling amiably and looking - at them out of his pale blue eyes. - </p> - <p> - “We want to buy a hammock, if you have one,” Alexandra explained, “and my - little brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where so many birds - come.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the horses' noses and feeling - about their mouths behind the bits. “Not many birds just now. A few ducks - this morning; and some snipe come to drink. But there was a crane last - week. She spent one night and came back the next evening. I don't know - why. It is not her season, of course. Many of them go over in the fall. - Then the pond is full of strange voices every night.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked thoughtful. “Ask him, Alexandra, - if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have heard so.” - </p> - <p> - She had some difficulty in making the old man understand. - </p> - <p> - He looked puzzled at first, then smote his hands together as he - remembered. “Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and pink feet. - My! what a voice she had! She came in the afternoon and kept flying about - the pond and screaming until dark. She was in trouble of some sort, but I - could not understand her. She was going over to the other ocean, maybe, - and did not know how far it was. She was afraid of never getting there. - She was more mournful than our birds here; she cried in the night. She saw - the light from my window and darted up to it. Maybe she thought my house - was a boat, she was such a wild thing. Next morning, when the sun rose, I - went out to take her food, but she flew up into the sky and went on her - way.” Ivar ran his fingers through his thick hair. “I have many strange - birds stop with me here. They come from very far away and are great - company. I hope you boys never shoot wild birds?” - </p> - <p> - Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his bushy head. “Yes, I know boys - are thoughtless. But these wild things are God's birds. He watches over - them and counts them, as we do our cattle; Christ says so in the New - Testament.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, Ivar,” Lou asked, “may we water our horses at your pond and give - them some feed? It's a bad road to your place.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, it is.” The old man scrambled about and began to loose the - tugs. “A bad road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at home!” - </p> - <p> - Oscar brushed the old man aside. “We'll take care of the horses, Ivar. - You'll be finding some disease on them. Alexandra wants to see your - hammocks.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little cave house. He had but one room, - neatly plastered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden floor. There was - a kitchen stove, a table covered with oilcloth, two chairs, a clock, a - calendar, a few books on the window-shelf; nothing more. But the place was - as clean as a cupboard. - </p> - <p> - “But where do you sleep, Ivar?” Emil asked, looking about. - </p> - <p> - Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the wall; in it was rolled a buffalo - robe. “There, my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in winter I wrap up in - this skin. Where I go to work, the beds are not half so easy as this.” - </p> - <p> - By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. He thought a cave a very - superior kind of house. There was something pleasantly unusual about it - and about Ivar. “Do the birds know you will be kind to them, Ivar? Is that - why so many come?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his feet under him. “See, little - brother, they have come from a long way, and they are very tired. From up - there where they are flying, our country looks dark and flat. They must - have water to drink and to bathe in before they can go on with their - journey. They look this way and that, and far below them they see - something shining, like a piece of glass set in the dark earth. That is my - pond. They come to it and are not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a little - corn. They tell the other birds, and next year more come this way. They - have their roads up there, as we have down here.” - </p> - <p> - Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. “And is that true, Ivar, about the - head ducks falling back when they are tired, and the hind ones taking - their place?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst of it; they cut the wind. They - can only stand it there a little while—half an hour, maybe. Then - they fall back and the wedge splits a little, while the rear ones come up - the middle to the front. Then it closes up and they fly on, with a new - edge. They are always changing like that, up in the air. Never any - confusion; just like soldiers who have been drilled.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra had selected her hammock by the time the boys came up from the - pond. They would not come in, but sat in the shade of the bank outside - while Alexandra and Ivar talked about the birds and about his - housekeeping, and why he never ate meat, fresh or salt. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, her arms resting on the - table. Ivar was sitting on the floor at her feet. “Ivar,” she said - suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the oilcloth with her - forefinger, “I came to-day more because I wanted to talk to you than - because I wanted to buy a hammock.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” The old man scraped his bare feet on the plank floor. - </p> - <p> - “We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I wouldn't sell in the spring, when - everybody advised me to, and now so many people are losing their hogs that - I am frightened. What can be done?” - </p> - <p> - Ivar's little eyes began to shine. They lost their vagueness. - </p> - <p> - “You feed them swill and such stuff? Of course! And sour milk? Oh, yes! - And keep them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, the hogs of this - country are put upon! They become unclean, like the hogs in the Bible. If - you kept your chickens like that, what would happen? You have a little - sorghum patch, maybe? Put a fence around it, and turn the hogs in. Build a - shed to give them shade, a thatch on poles. Let the boys haul water to - them in barrels, clean water, and plenty. Get them off the old stinking - ground, and do not let them go back there until winter. Give them only - grain and clean feed, such as you would give horses or cattle. Hogs do not - like to be filthy.” - </p> - <p> - The boys outside the door had been listening. Lou nudged his brother. - “Come, the horses are done eating. Let's hitch up and get out of here. - He'll fill her full of notions. She'll be for having the pigs sleep with - us, next.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could not understand what Ivar said, - saw that the two boys were displeased. They did not mind hard work, but - they hated experiments and could never see the use of taking pains. Even - Lou, who was more elastic than his older brother, disliked to do anything - different from their neighbors. He felt that it made them conspicuous and - gave people a chance to talk about them. - </p> - <p> - Once they were on the homeward road, the boys forgot their ill-humor and - joked about Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose any reforms in - the care of the pigs, and they hoped she had forgotten Ivar's talk. They - agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would never be able to prove up - on his land because he worked it so little. Alexandra privately resolved - that she would have a talk with Ivar about this and stir him up. The boys - persuaded Carl to stay for supper and go swimming in the pasture pond - after dark. - </p> - <p> - That evening, after she had washed the supper dishes, Alexandra sat down - on the kitchen doorstep, while her mother was mixing the bread. It was a - still, deep-breathing summer night, full of the smell of the hay fields. - Sounds of laughter and splashing came up from the pasture, and when the - moon rose rapidly above the bare rim of the prairie, the pond glittered - like polished metal, and she could see the flash of white bodies as the - boys ran about the edge, or jumped into the water. Alexandra watched the - shimmering pool dreamily, but eventually her eyes went back to the sorghum - patch south of the barn, where she was planning to make her new pig - corral. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IV - </h2> - <p> - For the first three years after John Bergson's death, the affairs of his - family prospered. Then came the hard times that brought every one on the - Divide to the brink of despair; three years of drouth and failure, the - last struggle of a wild soil against the encroaching plowshare. The first - of these fruitless summers the Bergson boys bore courageously. The failure - of the corn crop made labor cheap. Lou and Oscar hired two men and put in - bigger crops than ever before. They lost everything they spent. The whole - country was discouraged. Farmers who were already in debt had to give up - their land. A few foreclosures demoralized the county. The settlers sat - about on the wooden sidewalks in the little town and told each other that - the country was never meant for men to live in; the thing to do was to get - back to Iowa, to Illinois, to any place that had been proved habitable. - The Bergson boys, certainly, would have been happier with their uncle - Otto, in the bakery shop in Chicago. Like most of their neighbors, they - were meant to follow in paths already marked out for them, not to break - trails in a new country. A steady job, a few holidays, nothing to think - about, and they would have been very happy. It was no fault of theirs that - they had been dragged into the wilderness when they were little boys. A - pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of - things more than the things themselves. - </p> - <p> - The second of these barren summers was passing. One September afternoon - Alexandra had gone over to the garden across the draw to dig sweet - potatoes—they had been thriving upon the weather that was fatal to - everything else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the garden rows to find - her, she was not working. She was standing lost in thought, leaning upon - her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying beside her on the ground. The dry - garden patch smelled of drying vines and was strewn with yellow - seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and citrons. At one end, next the rhubarb, - grew feathery asparagus, with red berries. Down the middle of the garden - was a row of gooseberry and currant bushes. A few tough zenias and - marigolds and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the buckets of water - that Mrs. Bergson had carried there after sundown, against the prohibition - of her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the garden path, looking - intently at Alexandra. She did not hear him. She was standing perfectly - still, with that serious ease so characteristic of her. Her thick, reddish - braids, twisted about her head, fairly burned in the sunlight. The air was - cool enough to make the warm sun pleasant on one's back and shoulders, and - so clear that the eye could follow a hawk up and up, into the blazing blue - depths of the sky. Even Carl, never a very cheerful boy, and considerably - darkened by these last two bitter years, loved the country on days like - this, felt something strong and young and wild come out of it, that - laughed at care. - </p> - <p> - “Alexandra,” he said as he approached her, “I want to talk to you. Let's - sit down by the gooseberry bushes.” He picked up her sack of potatoes and - they crossed the garden. “Boys gone to town?” he asked as he sank down on - the warm, sun-baked earth. “Well, we have made up our minds at last, - Alexandra. We are really going away.” - </p> - <p> - She looked at him as if she were a little frightened. “Really, Carl? Is it - settled?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and they will give him back his old - job in the cigar factory. He must be there by the first of November. They - are taking on new men then. We will sell the place for whatever we can - get, and auction the stock. We haven't enough to ship. I am going to learn - engraving with a German engraver there, and then try to get work in - Chicago.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra's hands dropped in her lap. Her eyes became dreamy and filled - with tears. - </p> - <p> - Carl's sensitive lower lip trembled. He scratched in the soft earth beside - him with a stick. “That's all I hate about it, Alexandra,” he said slowly. - “You've stood by us through so much and helped father out so many times, - and now it seems as if we were running off and leaving you to face the - worst of it. But it isn't as if we could really ever be of any help to - you. We are only one more drag, one more thing you look out for and feel - responsible for. Father was never meant for a farmer, you know that. And I - hate it. We'd only get in deeper and deeper.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting your life here. You are able to - do much better things. You are nearly nineteen now, and I wouldn't have - you stay. I've always hoped you would get away. But I can't help feeling - scared when I think how I will miss you—more than you will ever - know.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks, not trying to hide them. - </p> - <p> - “But, Alexandra,” he said sadly and wistfully, “I've never been any real - help to you, beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in a good humor.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra smiled and shook her head. “Oh, it's not that. Nothing like - that. It's by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, that you've - helped me. I expect that is the only way one person ever really can help - another. I think you are about the only one that ever helped me. Somehow - it will take more courage to bear your going than everything that has - happened before.” - </p> - <p> - Carl looked at the ground. “You see, we've all depended so on you,” he - said, “even father. He makes me laugh. When anything comes up he always - says, 'I wonder what the Bergsons are going to do about that? I guess I'll - go and ask her.' I'll never forget that time, when we first came here, and - our horse had the colic, and I ran over to your place—your father - was away, and you came home with me and showed father how to let the wind - out of the horse. You were only a little girl then, but you knew ever so - much more about farm work than poor father. You remember how homesick I - used to get, and what long talks we used to have coming from school? We've - someway always felt alike about things.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's it; we've liked the same things and we've liked them - together, without anybody else knowing. And we've had good times, hunting - for Christmas trees and going for ducks and making our plum wine together - every year. We've never either of us had any other close friend. And now—” - Alexandra wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, “and now I must - remember that you are going where you will have many friends, and will - find the work you were meant to do. But you'll write to me, Carl? That - will mean a great deal to me here.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll write as long as I live,” cried the boy impetuously. “And I'll be - working for you as much as for myself, Alexandra. I want to do something - you'll like and be proud of. I'm a fool here, but I know I can do - something!” He sat up and frowned at the red grass. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra sighed. “How discouraged the boys will be when they hear. They - always come home from town discouraged, anyway. So many people are trying - to leave the country, and they talk to our boys and make them - low-spirited. I'm afraid they are beginning to feel hard toward me because - I won't listen to any talk about going. Sometimes I feel like I'm getting - tired of standing up for this country.” - </p> - <p> - “I won't tell the boys yet, if you'd rather not.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I'll tell them myself, to-night, when they come home. They'll be - talking wild, anyway, and no good comes of keeping bad news. It's all - harder on them than it is on me. Lou wants to get married, poor boy, and - he can't until times are better. See, there goes the sun, Carl. I must be - getting back. Mother will want her potatoes. It's chilly already, the - moment the light goes.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden afterglow throbbed in the west, - but the country already looked empty and mournful. A dark moving mass came - over the western hill, the Lee boy was bringing in the herd from the other - half-section. Emil ran from the windmill to open the corral gate. From the - log house, on the little rise across the draw, the smoke was curling. The - cattle lowed and bellowed. In the sky the pale half-moon was slowly - silvering. Alexandra and Carl walked together down the potato rows. “I - have to keep telling myself what is going to happen,” she said softly. - “Since you have been here, ten years now, I have never really been lonely. - But I can remember what it was like before. Now I shall have nobody but - Emil. But he is my boy, and he is tender-hearted.” - </p> - <p> - That night, when the boys were called to supper, they sat down moodily. - They had worn their coats to town, but they ate in their striped shirts - and suspenders. They were grown men now, and, as Alexandra said, for the - last few years they had been growing more and more like themselves. Lou - was still the slighter of the two, the quicker and more intelligent, but - apt to go off at half-cock. He had a lively blue eye, a thin, fair skin - (always burned red to the neckband of his shirt in summer), stiff, yellow - hair that would not lie down on his head, and a bristly little yellow - mustache, of which he was very proud. Oscar could not grow a mustache; his - pale face was as bare as an egg, and his white eyebrows gave it an empty - look. He was a man of powerful body and unusual endurance; the sort of man - you could attach to a corn-sheller as you would an engine. He would turn - it all day, without hurrying, without slowing down. But he was as indolent - of mind as he was unsparing of his body. His love of routine amounted to a - vice. He worked like an insect, always doing the same thing over in the - same way, regardless of whether it was best or no. He felt that there was - a sovereign virtue in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to do things - in the hardest way. If a field had once been in corn, he couldn't bear to - put it into wheat. He liked to begin his corn-planting at the same time - every year, whether the season were backward or forward. He seemed to feel - that by his own irreproachable regularity he would clear himself of blame - and reprove the weather. When the wheat crop failed, he threshed the straw - at a dead loss to demonstrate how little grain there was, and thus prove - his case against Providence. - </p> - <p> - Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and flighty; always planned to get - through two days' work in one, and often got only the least important - things done. He liked to keep the place up, but he never got round to - doing odd jobs until he had to neglect more pressing work to attend to - them. In the middle of the wheat harvest, when the grain was over-ripe and - every hand was needed, he would stop to mend fences or to patch the - harness; then dash down to the field and overwork and be laid up in bed - for a week. The two boys balanced each other, and they pulled well - together. They had been good friends since they were children. One seldom - went anywhere, even to town, without the other. - </p> - <p> - To-night, after they sat down to supper, Oscar kept looking at Lou as if - he expected him to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes and frowned at - his plate. It was Alexandra herself who at last opened the discussion. - </p> - <p> - “The Linstrums,” she said calmly, as she put another plate of hot biscuit - on the table, “are going back to St. Louis. The old man is going to work - in the cigar factory again.” - </p> - <p> - At this Lou plunged in. “You see, Alexandra, everybody who can crawl out - is going away. There's no use of us trying to stick it out, just to be - stubborn. There's something in knowing when to quit.” - </p> - <p> - “Where do you want to go, Lou?” - </p> - <p> - “Any place where things will grow,” said Oscar grimly. - </p> - <p> - Lou reached for a potato. “Chris Arnson has traded his half-section for a - place down on the river.” - </p> - <p> - “Who did he trade with?” - </p> - <p> - “Charley Fuller, in town.” - </p> - <p> - “Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, that Fuller has a head on him. - He's buying and trading for every bit of land he can get up here. It'll - make him a rich man, some day.” - </p> - <p> - “He's rich now, that's why he can take a chance.” - </p> - <p> - “Why can't we? We'll live longer than he will. Some day the land itself - will be worth more than all we can ever raise on it.” - </p> - <p> - Lou laughed. “It could be worth that, and still not be worth much. Why, - Alexandra, you don't know what you're talking about. Our place wouldn't - bring now what it would six years ago. The fellows that settled up here - just made a mistake. Now they're beginning to see this high land wasn't - never meant to grow nothing on, and everybody who ain't fixed to graze - cattle is trying to crawl out. It's too high to farm up here. All the - Americans are skinning out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, told me - that he was going to let Fuller take his land and stuff for four hundred - dollars and a ticket to Chicago.” - </p> - <p> - “There's Fuller again!” Alexandra exclaimed. “I wish that man would take - me for a partner. He's feathering his nest! If only poor people could - learn a little from rich people! But all these fellows who are running off - are bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. They couldn't get ahead even in - good years, and they all got into debt while father was getting out. I - think we ought to hold on as long as we can on father's account. He was so - set on keeping this land. He must have seen harder times than this, here. - How was it in the early days, mother?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These family discussions always - depressed her, and made her remember all that she had been torn away from. - “I don't see why the boys are always taking on about going away,” she - said, wiping her eyes. “I don't want to move again; out to some raw place, - maybe, where we'd be worse off than we are here, and all to do over again. - I won't move! If the rest of you go, I will ask some of the neighbors to - take me in, and stay and be buried by father. I'm not going to leave him - by himself on the prairie, for cattle to run over.” She began to cry more - bitterly. - </p> - <p> - The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a soothing hand on her mother's - shoulder. “There's no question of that, mother. You don't have to go if - you don't want to. A third of the place belongs to you by American law, - and we can't sell without your consent. We only want you to advise us. How - did it use to be when you and father first came? Was it really as bad as - this, or not?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, worse! Much worse,” moaned Mrs. Bergson. “Drouth, chince-bugs, hail, - everything! My garden all cut to pieces like sauerkraut. No grapes on the - creek, no nothing. The people all lived just like coyotes.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. Lou followed him. They felt - that Alexandra had taken an unfair advantage in turning their mother loose - on them. The next morning they were silent and reserved. They did not - offer to take the women to church, but went down to the barn immediately - after breakfast and stayed there all day. When Carl Linstrum came over in - the afternoon, Alexandra winked to him and pointed toward the barn. He - understood her and went down to play cards with the boys. They believed - that a very wicked thing to do on Sunday, and it relieved their feelings. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Bergson always - took a nap, and Alexandra read. During the week she read only the - newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long evenings of winter, she read a - good deal; read a few things over a great many times. She knew long - portions of the “Frithjof Saga” by heart, and, like most Swedes who read - at all, she was fond of Longfellow's verse,—the ballads and the - “Golden Legend” and “The Spanish Student.” To-day she sat in the wooden - rocking-chair with the Swedish Bible open on her knees, but she was not - reading. She was looking thoughtfully away at the point where the upland - road disappeared over the rim of the prairie. Her body was in an attitude - of perfect repose, such as it was apt to take when she was thinking - earnestly. Her mind was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not the least - spark of cleverness. - </p> - <p> - All afternoon the sitting-room was full of quiet and sunlight. Emil was - making rabbit traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were clucking and - scratching brown holes in the flower beds, and the wind was teasing the - prince's feather by the door. - </p> - <p> - That evening Carl came in with the boys to supper. - </p> - <p> - “Emil,” said Alexandra, when they were all seated at the table, “how would - you like to go traveling? Because I am going to take a trip, and you can - go with me if you want to.” - </p> - <p> - The boys looked up in amazement; they were always afraid of Alexandra's - schemes. Carl was interested. - </p> - <p> - “I've been thinking, boys,” she went on, “that maybe I am too set against - making a change. I'm going to take Brigham and the buckboard to-morrow and - drive down to the river country and spend a few days looking over what - they've got down there. If I find anything good, you boys can go down and - make a trade.” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody down there will trade for anything up here,” said Oscar gloomily. - </p> - <p> - “That's just what I want to find out. Maybe they are just as discontented - down there as we are up here. Things away from home often look better than - they are. You know what your Hans Andersen book says, Carl, about the - Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and the Danes liking to buy Swedish - bread, because people always think the bread of another country is better - than their own. Anyway, I've heard so much about the river farms, I won't - be satisfied till I've seen for myself.” - </p> - <p> - Lou fidgeted. “Look out! Don't agree to anything. Don't let them fool - you.” - </p> - <p> - Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not yet learned to keep away from - the shell-game wagons that followed the circus. - </p> - <p> - After supper Lou put on a necktie and went across the fields to court - Annie Lee, and Carl and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, while - Alexandra read “The Swiss Family Robinson” aloud to her mother and Emil. - It was not long before the two boys at the table neglected their game to - listen. They were all big children together, and they found the adventures - of the family in the tree house so absorbing that they gave them their - undivided attention. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - V - </h2> - <p> - Alexandra and Emil spent five days down among the river farms, driving up - and down the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about their crops and to - the women about their poultry. She spent a whole day with one young farmer - who had been away at school, and who was experimenting with a new kind of - clover hay. She learned a great deal. As they drove along, she and Emil - talked and planned. At last, on the sixth day, Alexandra turned Brigham's - head northward and left the river behind. - </p> - <p> - “There's nothing in it for us down there, Emil. There are a few fine - farms, but they are owned by the rich men in town, and couldn't be bought. - Most of the land is rough and hilly. They can always scrape along down - there, but they can never do anything big. Down there they have a little - certainty, but up with us there is a big chance. We must have faith in the - high land, Emil. I want to hold on harder than ever, and when you're a man - you'll thank me.” She urged Brigham forward. - </p> - <p> - When the road began to climb the first long swells of the Divide, - Alexandra hummed an old Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his sister - looked so happy. Her face was so radiant that he felt shy about asking - her. For the first time, perhaps, since that land emerged from the waters - of geologic ages, a human face was set toward it with love and yearning. - It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. Her eyes drank - in the breadth of it, until her tears blinded her. Then the Genius of the - Divide, the great, free spirit which breathes across it, must have bent - lower than it ever bent to a human will before. The history of every - country begins in the heart of a man or a woman. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. That evening she held a family - council and told her brothers all that she had seen and heard. - </p> - <p> - “I want you boys to go down yourselves and look it over. Nothing will - convince you like seeing with your own eyes. The river land was settled - before this, and so they are a few years ahead of us, and have learned - more about farming. The land sells for three times as much as this, but in - five years we will double it. The rich men down there own all the best - land, and they are buying all they can get. The thing to do is to sell our - cattle and what little old corn we have, and buy the Linstrum place. Then - the next thing to do is to take out two loans on our half-sections, and - buy Peter Crow's place; raise every dollar we can, and buy every acre we - can.” - </p> - <p> - “Mortgage the homestead again?” Lou cried. He sprang up and began to wind - the clock furiously. “I won't slave to pay off another mortgage. I'll - never do it. You'd just as soon kill us all, Alexandra, to carry out some - scheme!” - </p> - <p> - Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. “How do you propose to pay off your - mortgages?” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra looked from one to the other and bit her lip. They had never - seen her so nervous. “See here,” she brought out at last. “We borrow the - money for six years. Well, with the money we buy a half-section from - Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter from Struble, maybe. That - will give us upwards of fourteen hundred acres, won't it? You won't have - to pay off your mortgages for six years. By that time, any of this land - will be worth thirty dollars an acre—it will be worth fifty, but - we'll say thirty; then you can sell a garden patch anywhere, and pay off a - debt of sixteen hundred dollars. It's not the principal I'm worried about, - it's the interest and taxes. We'll have to strain to meet the payments. - But as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can sit down here ten - years from now independent landowners, not struggling farmers any longer. - The chance that father was always looking for has come.” - </p> - <p> - Lou was pacing the floor. “But how do you KNOW that land is going to go up - enough to pay the mortgages and—” - </p> - <p> - “And make us rich besides?” Alexandra put in firmly. “I can't explain - that, Lou. You'll have to take my word for it. I KNOW, that's all. When - you drive about over the country you can feel it coming.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, his hands hanging between - his knees. “But we can't work so much land,” he said dully, as if he were - talking to himself. “We can't even try. It would just lie there and we'd - work ourselves to death.” He sighed, and laid his calloused fist on the - table. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra's eyes filled with tears. She put her hand on his shoulder. “You - poor boy, you won't have to work it. The men in town who are buying up - other people's land don't try to farm it. They are the men to watch, in a - new country. Let's try to do like the shrewd ones, and not like these - stupid fellows. I don't want you boys always to have to work like this. I - want you to be independent, and Emil to go to school.” - </p> - <p> - Lou held his head as if it were splitting. “Everybody will say we are - crazy. It must be crazy, or everybody would be doing it.” - </p> - <p> - “If they were, we wouldn't have much chance. No, Lou, I was talking about - that with the smart young man who is raising the new kind of clover. He - says the right thing is usually just what everybody don't do. Why are we - better fixed than any of our neighbors? Because father had more brains. - Our people were better people than these in the old country. We OUGHT to - do more than they do, and see further ahead. Yes, mother, I'm going to - clear the table now.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable to see to the stock, and they - were gone a long while. When they came back Lou played on his - DRAGHARMONIKA and Oscar sat figuring at his father's secretary all - evening. They said nothing more about Alexandra's project, but she felt - sure now that they would consent to it. Just before bedtime Oscar went out - for a pail of water. When he did not come back, Alexandra threw a shawl - over her head and ran down the path to the windmill. She found him sitting - there with his head in his hands, and she sat down beside him. - </p> - <p> - “Don't do anything you don't want to do, Oscar,” she whispered. She waited - a moment, but he did not stir. “I won't say any more about it, if you'd - rather not. What makes you so discouraged?” - </p> - <p> - “I dread signing my name to them pieces of paper,” he said slowly. “All - the time I was a boy we had a mortgage hanging over us.” - </p> - <p> - “Then don't sign one. I don't want you to, if you feel that way.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar shook his head. “No, I can see there's a chance that way. I've - thought a good while there might be. We're in so deep now, we might as - well go deeper. But it's hard work pulling out of debt. Like pulling a - threshing-machine out of the mud; breaks your back. Me and Lou's worked - hard, and I can't see it's got us ahead much.” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody knows about that as well as I do, Oscar. That's why I want to try - an easier way. I don't want you to have to grub for every dollar.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it'll come out right. But signing papers - is signing papers. There ain't no maybe about that.” He took his pail and - trudged up the path to the house. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against the - frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so keenly through - the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch them, to think of their - vastness and distance, and of their ordered march. It fortified her to - reflect upon the great operations of nature, and when she thought of the - law that lay behind them, she felt a sense of personal security. That - night she had a new consciousness of the country, felt almost a new - relation to it. Even her talk with the boys had not taken away the feeling - that had overwhelmed her when she drove back to the Divide that afternoon. - She had never known before how much the country meant to her. The chirping - of the insects down in the long grass had been like the sweetest music. - She had felt as if her heart were hiding down there, somewhere, with the - quail and the plover and all the little wild things that crooned or buzzed - in the sun. Under the long shaggy ridges, she felt the future stirring. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PART II. Neighboring Fields - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I - </h2> - <p> - IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. His wife now lies beside him, - and the white shaft that marks their graves gleams across the - wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, he would not know the country - under which he has been asleep. The shaggy coat of the prairie, which they - lifted to make him a bed, has vanished forever. From the Norwegian - graveyard one looks out over a vast checker-board, marked off in squares - of wheat and corn; light and dark, dark and light. Telephone wires hum - along the white roads, which always run at right angles. From the - graveyard gate one can count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the gilded - weather-vanes on the big red barns wink at each other across the green and - brown and yellow fields. The light steel windmills tremble throughout - their frames and tug at their moorings, as they vibrate in the wind that - often blows from one week's end to another across that high, active, - resolute stretch of country. - </p> - <p> - The Divide is now thickly populated. The rich soil yields heavy harvests; - the dry, bracing climate and the smoothness of the land make labor easy - for men and beasts. There are few scenes more gratifying than a spring - plowing in that country, where the furrows of a single field often lie a - mile in length, and the brown earth, with such a strong, clean smell, and - such a power of growth and fertility in it, yields itself eagerly to the - plow; rolls away from the shear, not even dimming the brightness of the - metal, with a soft, deep sigh of happiness. The wheat-cutting sometimes - goes on all night as well as all day, and in good seasons there are - scarcely men and horses enough to do the harvesting. The grain is so heavy - that it bends toward the blade and cuts like velvet. - </p> - <p> - There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face of the - country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, holding - nothing back. Like the plains of Lombardy, it seems to rise a little to - meet the sun. The air and the earth are curiously mated and intermingled, - as if the one were the breath of the other. You feel in the atmosphere the - same tonic, puissant quality that is in the tilth, the same strength and - resoluteness. - </p> - <p> - One June morning a young man stood at the gate of the Norwegian graveyard, - sharpening his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to the tune he was - whistling. He wore a flannel cap and duck trousers, and the sleeves of his - white flannel shirt were rolled back to the elbow. When he was satisfied - with the edge of his blade, he slipped the whetstone into his hip pocket - and began to swing his scythe, still whistling, but softly, out of respect - to the quiet folk about him. Unconscious respect, probably, for he seemed - intent upon his own thoughts, and, like the Gladiator's, they were far - away. He was a splendid figure of a boy, tall and straight as a young pine - tree, with a handsome head, and stormy gray eyes, deeply set under a - serious brow. The space between his two front teeth, which were unusually - far apart, gave him the proficiency in whistling for which he was - distinguished at college. (He also played the cornet in the University - band.) - </p> - <p> - When the grass required his close attention, or when he had to stoop to - cut about a head-stone, he paused in his lively air,—the “Jewel” - song,—taking it up where he had left it when his scythe swung free - again. He was not thinking about the tired pioneers over whom his blade - glittered. The old wild country, the struggle in which his sister was - destined to succeed while so many men broke their hearts and died, he can - scarcely remember. That is all among the dim things of childhood and has - been forgotten in the brighter pattern life weaves to-day, in the bright - facts of being captain of the track team, and holding the interstate - record for the high jump, in the all-suffusing brightness of being - twenty-one. Yet sometimes, in the pauses of his work, the young man - frowned and looked at the ground with an intentness which suggested that - even twenty-one might have its problems. - </p> - <p> - When he had been mowing the better part of an hour, he heard the rattle of - a light cart on the road behind him. Supposing that it was his sister - coming back from one of her farms, he kept on with his work. The cart - stopped at the gate and a merry contralto voice called, “Almost through, - Emil?” He dropped his scythe and went toward the fence, wiping his face - and neck with his handkerchief. In the cart sat a young woman who wore - driving gauntlets and a wide shade hat, trimmed with red poppies. Her - face, too, was rather like a poppy, round and brown, with rich color in - her cheeks and lips, and her dancing yellow-brown eyes bubbled with - gayety. The wind was flapping her big hat and teasing a curl of her - chestnut-colored hair. She shook her head at the tall youth. - </p> - <p> - “What time did you get over here? That's not much of a job for an athlete. - Here I've been to town and back. Alexandra lets you sleep late. Oh, I - know! Lou's wife was telling me about the way she spoils you. I was going - to give you a lift, if you were done.” She gathered up her reins. - </p> - <p> - “But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for me, Marie,” Emil coaxed. - “Alexandra sent me to mow our lot, but I've done half a dozen others, you - see. Just wait till I finish off the Kourdnas'. By the way, they were - Bohemians. Why aren't they up in the Catholic graveyard?” - </p> - <p> - “Free-thinkers,” replied the young woman laconically. - </p> - <p> - “Lots of the Bohemian boys at the University are,” said Emil, taking up - his scythe again. “What did you ever burn John Huss for, anyway? It's made - an awful row. They still jaw about it in history classes.” - </p> - <p> - “We'd do it right over again, most of us,” said the young woman hotly. - “Don't they ever teach you in your history classes that you'd all be - heathen Turks if it hadn't been for the Bohemians?” - </p> - <p> - Emil had fallen to mowing. “Oh, there's no denying you're a spunky little - bunch, you Czechs,” he called back over his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat and watched the rhythmical - movement of the young man's long arms, swinging her foot as if in time to - some air that was going through her mind. The minutes passed. Emil mowed - vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and watching the long grass fall. - She sat with the ease that belongs to persons of an essentially happy - nature, who can find a comfortable spot almost anywhere; who are supple, - and quick in adapting themselves to circumstances. After a final swish, - Emil snapped the gate and sprang into the cart, holding his scythe well - out over the wheel. “There,” he sighed. “I gave old man Lee a cut or so, - too. Lou's wife needn't talk. I never see Lou's scythe over here.” - </p> - <p> - Marie clucked to her horse. “Oh, you know Annie!” She looked at the young - man's bare arms. “How brown you've got since you came home. I wish I had - an athlete to mow my orchard. I get wet to my knees when I go down to pick - cherries.” - </p> - <p> - “You can have one, any time you want him. Better wait until after it - rains.” Emil squinted off at the horizon as if he were looking for clouds. - </p> - <p> - “Will you? Oh, there's a good boy!” She turned her head to him with a - quick, bright smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, he had looked - away with the purpose of not seeing it. “I've been up looking at - Angelique's wedding clothes,” Marie went on, “and I'm so excited I can - hardly wait until Sunday. Amedee will be a handsome bridegroom. Is anybody - but you going to stand up with him? Well, then it will be a handsome - wedding party.” She made a droll face at Emil, who flushed. “Frank,” Marie - continued, flicking her horse, “is cranky at me because I loaned his - saddle to Jan Smirka, and I'm terribly afraid he won't take me to the - dance in the evening. Maybe the supper will tempt him. All Angelique's - folks are baking for it, and all Amedee's twenty cousins. There will be - barrels of beer. If once I get Frank to the supper, I'll see that I stay - for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you mustn't dance with me but once or - twice. You must dance with all the French girls. It hurts their feelings - if you don't. They think you're proud because you've been away to school - or something.” - </p> - <p> - Emil sniffed. “How do you know they think that?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you didn't dance with them much at Raoul Marcel's party, and I - could tell how they took it by the way they looked at you—and at - me.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said Emil shortly, studying the glittering blade of his - scythe. - </p> - <p> - They drove westward toward Norway Creek, and toward a big white house that - stood on a hill, several miles across the fields. There were so many sheds - and outbuildings grouped about it that the place looked not unlike a tiny - village. A stranger, approaching it, could not help noticing the beauty - and fruitfulness of the outlying fields. There was something individual - about the great farm, a most unusual trimness and care for detail. On - either side of the road, for a mile before you reached the foot of the - hill, stood tall osage orange hedges, their glossy green marking off the - yellow fields. South of the hill, in a low, sheltered swale, surrounded by - a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, its fruit trees knee-deep in timothy - grass. Any one thereabouts would have told you that this was one of the - richest farms on the Divide, and that the farmer was a woman, Alexandra - Bergson. - </p> - <p> - If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra's big house, you will find that - it is curiously unfinished and uneven in comfort. One room is papered, - carpeted, over-furnished; the next is almost bare. The pleasantest rooms - in the house are the kitchen—where Alexandra's three young Swedish - girls chatter and cook and pickle and preserve all summer long—and - the sitting-room, in which Alexandra has brought together the old homely - furniture that the Bergsons used in their first log house, the family - portraits, and the few things her mother brought from Sweden. - </p> - <p> - When you go out of the house into the flower garden, there you feel again - the order and fine arrangement manifest all over the great farm; in the - fencing and hedging, in the windbreaks and sheds, in the symmetrical - pasture ponds, planted with scrub willows to give shade to the cattle in - fly-time. There is even a white row of beehives in the orchard, under the - walnut trees. You feel that, properly, Alexandra's house is the big - out-of-doors, and that it is in the soil that she expresses herself best. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II - </h2> - <p> - Emil reached home a little past noon, and when he went into the kitchen - Alexandra was already seated at the head of the long table, having dinner - with her men, as she always did unless there were visitors. He slipped - into his empty place at his sister's right. The three pretty young Swedish - girls who did Alexandra's housework were cutting pies, refilling - coffeecups, placing platters of bread and meat and potatoes upon the red - tablecloth, and continually getting in each other's way between the table - and the stove. To be sure they always wasted a good deal of time getting - in each other's way and giggling at each other's mistakes. But, as - Alexandra had pointedly told her sisters-in-law, it was to hear them - giggle that she kept three young things in her kitchen; the work she could - do herself, if it were necessary. These girls, with their long letters - from home, their finery, and their love-affairs, afforded her a great deal - of entertainment, and they were company for her when Emil was away at - school. - </p> - <p> - Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty figure, mottled pink cheeks, - and yellow hair, Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps a sharp eye upon - her. Signa is apt to be skittish at mealtime, when the men are about, and - to spill the coffee or upset the cream. It is supposed that Nelse Jensen, - one of the six men at the dinner-table, is courting Signa, though he has - been so careful not to commit himself that no one in the house, least of - all Signa, can tell just how far the matter has progressed. Nelse watches - her glumly as she waits upon the table, and in the evening he sits on a - bench behind the stove with his DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful airs and - watching her as she goes about her work. When Alexandra asked Signa - whether she thought Nelse was in earnest, the poor child hid her hands - under her apron and murmured, “I don't know, ma'm. But he scolds me about - everything, like as if he wanted to have me!” - </p> - <p> - At Alexandra's left sat a very old man, barefoot and wearing a long blue - blouse, open at the neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter than it was - sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes have become pale and watery, - and his ruddy face is withered, like an apple that has clung all winter to - the tree. When Ivar lost his land through mismanagement a dozen years ago, - Alexandra took him in, and he has been a member of her household ever - since. He is too old to work in the fields, but he hitches and unhitches - the work-teams and looks after the health of the stock. Sometimes of a - winter evening Alexandra calls him into the sitting-room to read the Bible - aloud to her, for he still reads very well. He dislikes human habitations, - so Alexandra has fitted him up a room in the barn, where he is very - comfortable, being near the horses and, as he says, further from - temptations. No one has ever found out what his temptations are. In cold - weather he sits by the kitchen fire and makes hammocks or mends harness - until it is time to go to bed. Then he says his prayers at great length - behind the stove, puts on his buffalo-skin coat and goes out to his room - in the barn. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller, and she - has more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous than she did as a - young girl. But she still has the same calmness and deliberation of - manner, the same clear eyes, and she still wears her hair in two braids - wound round her head. It is so curly that fiery ends escape from the - braids and make her head look like one of the big double sunflowers that - fringe her vegetable garden. Her face is always tanned in summer, for her - sunbonnet is oftener on her arm than on her head. But where her collar - falls away from her neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back from her - wrist, the skin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none but Swedish - women ever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow itself. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged her men to - talk, and she always listened attentively, even when they seemed to be - talking foolishly. - </p> - <p> - To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed Irishman who had been with - Alexandra for five years and who was actually her foreman, though he had - no such title, was grumbling about the new silo she had put up that - spring. It happened to be the first silo on the Divide, and Alexandra's - neighbors and her men were skeptical about it. “To be sure, if the thing - don't work, we'll have plenty of feed without it, indeed,” Barney - conceded. - </p> - <p> - Nelse Jensen, Signa's gloomy suitor, had his word. “Lou, he says he - wouldn't have no silo on his place if you'd give it to him. He says the - feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard of somebody lost four - head of horses, feedin' 'em that stuff.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. “Well, the only way - we can find out is to try. Lou and I have different notions about feeding - stock, and that's a good thing. It's bad if all the members of a family - think alike. They never get anywhere. Lou can learn by my mistakes and I - can learn by his. Isn't that fair, Barney?” - </p> - <p> - The Irishman laughed. He had no love for Lou, who was always uppish with - him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. “I've no thought - but to give the thing an honest try, mum. 'T would be only right, after - puttin' so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will come out an' have a look - at it wid me.” He pushed back his chair, took his hat from the nail, and - marched out with Emil, who, with his university ideas, was supposed to - have instigated the silo. The other hands followed them, all except old - Ivar. He had been depressed throughout the meal and had paid no heed to - the talk of the men, even when they mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which - he was sure to have opinions. - </p> - <p> - “Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?” Alexandra asked as she rose from the - table. “Come into the sitting-room.” - </p> - <p> - The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair he - shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him to speak. He - stood looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed, his hands clasped in - front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed to have grown shorter with years, - and they were completely misfitted to his broad, thick body and heavy - shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Ivar, what is it?” Alexandra asked after she had waited longer than - usual. - </p> - <p> - Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaint and - grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He always - addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hoping to set a good - example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too familiar in their - manners. - </p> - <p> - “Mistress,” he began faintly, without raising his eyes, “the folk have - been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been talk.” - </p> - <p> - “Talk about what, Ivar?” - </p> - <p> - “About sending me away; to the asylum.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. “Nobody has come to me with such - talk,” she said decidedly. “Why need you listen? You know I would never - consent to such a thing.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little eyes. - “They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain of me, if your - brothers complain to the authorities. They say that your brothers are - afraid—God forbid!—that I may do you some injury when my - spells are on me. Mistress, how can any one think that?—that I could - bite the hand that fed me!” The tears trickled down on the old man's - beard. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra frowned. “Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should come bothering - me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, and other people - have nothing to do with either you or me. So long as I am suited with you, - there is nothing to be said.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse and wiped - his eyes and beard. “But I should not wish you to keep me if, as they say, - it is against your interests, and if it is hard for you to get hands - because I am here.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his hand and - went on earnestly:— - </p> - <p> - “Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things into - account. You know that my spells come from God, and that I would not harm - any living creature. You believe that every one should worship God in the - way revealed to him. But that is not the way of this country. The way here - is for all to do alike. I am despised because I do not wear shoes, because - I do not cut my hair, and because I have visions. At home, in the old - country, there were many like me, who had been touched by God, or who had - seen things in the graveyard at night and were different afterward. We - thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But here, if a man is different - in his feet or in his head, they put him in the asylum. Look at Peter - Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out of a creek, he swallowed a snake, - and always after that he could eat only such food as the creature liked, - for when he ate anything else, it became enraged and gnawed him. When he - felt it whipping about in him, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some - ease for himself. He could work as good as any man, and his head was - clear, but they locked him up for being different in his stomach. That is - the way; they have built the asylum for people who are different, and they - will not even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Only your great - prosperity has protected me so far. If you had had ill-fortune, they would - have taken me to Hastings long ago.” - </p> - <p> - As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she could often - break his fasts and long penances by talking to him and letting him pour - out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy always cleared his mind, and - ridicule was poison to him. - </p> - <p> - “There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not they will be - wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; and then I may - take you with me. But at present I need you here. Only don't come to me - again telling me what people say. Let people go on talking as they like, - and we will go on living as we think best. You have been with me now for - twelve years, and I have gone to you for advice oftener than I have ever - gone to any one. That ought to satisfy you.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar bowed humbly. “Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with their talk - again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes all these years, - though you have never questioned me; washing them every night, even in - winter.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra laughed. “Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We can remember - when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expect old Mrs. Lee - would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if she dared. I'm glad I'm - not Lou's mother-in-law.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. - “You know what they have over at Lou's house? A great white tub, like the - stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash themselves in. When you - sent me over with the strawberries, they were all in town but the old - woman Lee and the baby. She took me in and showed me the thing, and she - told me it was impossible to wash yourself clean in it, because, in so - much water, you could not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up and - send her in there, she pretends, and makes a splashing noise. Then, when - they are all asleep, she washes herself in a little wooden tub she keeps - under her bed.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra shook with laughter. “Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won't let her wear - nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit me, she can do all - the old things in the old way, and have as much beer as she wants. We'll - start an asylum for old-time people, Ivar.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into his - blouse. “This is always the way, mistress. I come to you sorrowing, and - you send me away with a light heart. And will you be so good as to tell - the Irishman that he is not to work the brown gelding until the sore on - its shoulder is healed?” - </p> - <p> - “That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare to the cart. I am going to drive - up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is to buy my alfalfa - hay.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III - </h2> - <p> - Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar's case, however. On Sunday her married - brothers came to dinner. She had asked them for that day because Emil, who - hated family parties, would be absent, dancing at Amedee Chevalier's - wedding, up in the French country. The table was set for company in the - dining-room, where highly varnished wood and colored glass and useless - pieces of china were conspicuous enough to satisfy the standards of the - new prosperity. Alexandra had put herself into the hands of the Hanover - furniture dealer, and he had conscientiously done his best to make her - dining-room look like his display window. She said frankly that she knew - nothing about such things, and she was willing to be governed by the - general conviction that the more useless and utterly unusable objects - were, the greater their virtue as ornament. That seemed reasonable enough. - Since she liked plain things herself, it was all the more necessary to - have jars and punchbowls and candlesticks in the company rooms for people - who did appreciate them. Her guests liked to see about them these - reassuring emblems of prosperity. - </p> - <p> - The family party was complete except for Emil, and Oscar's wife who, in - the country phrase, “was not going anywhere just now.” Oscar sat at the - foot of the table and his four tow-headed little boys, aged from twelve to - five, were ranged at one side. Neither Oscar nor Lou has changed much; - they have simply, as Alexandra said of them long ago, grown to be more and - more like themselves. Lou now looks the older of the two; his face is thin - and shrewd and wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar's is thick and dull. - For all his dullness, however, Oscar makes more money than his brother, - which adds to Lou's sharpness and uneasiness and tempts him to make a - show. The trouble with Lou is that he is tricky, and his neighbors have - found out that, as Ivar says, he has not a fox's face for nothing. - Politics being the natural field for such talents, he neglects his farm to - attend conventions and to run for county offices. - </p> - <p> - Lou's wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to look curiously like her - husband. Her face has become longer, sharper, more aggressive. She wears - her yellow hair in a high pompadour, and is bedecked with rings and chains - and “beauty pins.” Her tight, high-heeled shoes give her an awkward walk, - and she is always more or less preoccupied with her clothes. As she sat at - the table, she kept telling her youngest daughter to “be careful now, and - not drop anything on mother.” - </p> - <p> - The conversation at the table was all in English. Oscar's wife, from the - malaria district of Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a foreigner, and his - boys do not understand a word of Swedish. Annie and Lou sometimes speak - Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as much afraid of being “caught” at - it as ever her mother was of being caught barefoot. Oscar still has a - thick accent, but Lou speaks like anybody from Iowa. - </p> - <p> - “When I was in Hastings to attend the convention,” he was saying, “I saw - the superintendent of the asylum, and I was telling him about Ivar's - symptoms. He says Ivar's case is one of the most dangerous kind, and it's - a wonder he hasn't done something violent before this.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. “Oh, nonsense, Lou! The doctors would - have us all crazy if they could. Ivar's queer, certainly, but he has more - sense than half the hands I hire.” - </p> - <p> - Lou flew at his fried chicken. “Oh, I guess the doctor knows his business, - Alexandra. He was very much surprised when I told him how you'd put up - with Ivar. He says he's likely to set fire to the barn any night, or to - take after you and the girls with an axe.” - </p> - <p> - Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, giggled and fled to the - kitchen. Alexandra's eyes twinkled. “That was too much for Signa, Lou. We - all know that Ivar's perfectly harmless. The girls would as soon expect me - to chase them with an axe.” - </p> - <p> - Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. “All the same, the neighbors will be - having a say about it before long. He may burn anybody's barn. It's only - necessary for one property-owner in the township to make complaint, and - he'll be taken up by force. You'd better send him yourself and not have - any hard feelings.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to gravy. “Well, Lou, if any of - the neighbors try that, I'll have myself appointed Ivar's guardian and - take the case to court, that's all. I am perfectly satisfied with him.” - </p> - <p> - “Pass the preserves, Lou,” said Annie in a warning tone. She had reasons - for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. “But don't you - sort of hate to have people see him around here, Alexandra?” she went on - with persuasive smoothness. “He IS a disgraceful object, and you're fixed - up so nice now. It sort of makes people distant with you, when they never - know when they'll hear him scratching about. My girls are afraid as death - of him, aren't you, Milly, dear?” - </p> - <p> - Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompadoured, with a creamy - complexion, square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She looked like her - grandmother Bergson, and had her comfortable and comfort-loving nature. - She grinned at her aunt, with whom she was a great deal more at ease than - she was with her mother. Alexandra winked a reply. - </p> - <p> - “Milly needn't be afraid of Ivar. She's an especial favorite of his. In my - opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of dressing and - thinking as we have. But I'll see that he doesn't bother other people. - I'll keep him at home, so don't trouble any more about him, Lou. I've been - wanting to ask you about your new bathtub. How does it work?” - </p> - <p> - Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. “Oh, it works - something grand! I can't keep him out of it. He washes himself all over - three times a week now, and uses all the hot water. I think it's weakening - to stay in as long as he does. You ought to have one, Alexandra.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar, if it will - ease people's minds. But before I get a bathtub, I'm going to get a piano - for Milly.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. “What does Milly - want of a pianny? What's the matter with her organ? She can make some use - of that, and play in church.” - </p> - <p> - Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say anything about - this plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous of what his sister did - for Lou's children. Alexandra did not get on with Oscar's wife at all. - “Milly can play in church just the same, and she'll still play on the - organ. But practising on it so much spoils her touch. Her teacher says - so,” Annie brought out with spirit. - </p> - <p> - Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, Milly must have got on pretty good if she's - got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that ain't,” he said - bluntly. - </p> - <p> - Annie threw up her chin. “She has got on good, and she's going to play for - her commencement when she graduates in town next year.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Alexandra firmly, “I think Milly deserves a piano. All the - girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but Milly is the - only one of them who can ever play anything when you ask her. I'll tell - you when I first thought I would like to give you a piano, Milly, and that - was when you learned that book of old Swedish songs that your grandfather - used to sing. He had a sweet tenor voice, and when he was a young man he - loved to sing. I can remember hearing him singing with the sailors down in - the shipyard, when I was no bigger than Stella here,” pointing to Annie's - younger daughter. - </p> - <p> - Milly and Stella both looked through the door into the sitting-room, where - a crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra had had it - made from a little photograph, taken for his friends just before he left - Sweden; a slender man of thirty-five, with soft hair curling about his - high forehead, a drooping mustache, and wondering, sad eyes that looked - forward into the distance, as if they already beheld the New World. - </p> - <p> - After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the orchard to pick cherries—they - had neither of them had the patience to grow an orchard of their own—and - Annie went down to gossip with Alexandra's kitchen girls while they washed - the dishes. She could always find out more about Alexandra's domestic - economy from the prattling maids than from Alexandra herself, and what she - discovered she used to her own advantage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers' - daughters no longer went out into service, so Alexandra got her girls from - Sweden, by paying their fare over. They stayed with her until they - married, and were replaced by sisters or cousins from the old country. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra took her three nieces into the flower garden. She was fond of - the little girls, especially of Milly, who came to spend a week with her - aunt now and then, and read aloud to her from the old books about the - house, or listened to stories about the early days on the Divide. While - they were walking among the flower beds, a buggy drove up the hill and - stopped in front of the gate. A man got out and stood talking to the - driver. The little girls were delighted at the advent of a stranger, some - one from very far away, they knew by his clothes, his gloves, and the - sharp, pointed cut of his dark beard. The girls fell behind their aunt and - peeped out at him from among the castor beans. The stranger came up to the - gate and stood holding his hat in his hand, smiling, while Alexandra - advanced slowly to meet him. As she approached he spoke in a low, pleasant - voice. - </p> - <p> - “Don't you know me, Alexandra? I would have known you, anywhere.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. Suddenly she took a quick step - forward. “Can it be!” she exclaimed with feeling; “can it be that it is - Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!” She threw out both her hands and caught - his across the gate. “Sadie, Milly, run tell your father and Uncle Oscar - that our old friend Carl Linstrum is here. Be quick! Why, Carl, how did it - happen? I can't believe this!” Alexandra shook the tears from her eyes and - laughed. - </p> - <p> - The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped his suitcase inside the fence, - and opened the gate. “Then you are glad to see me, and you can put me up - overnight? I couldn't go through this country without stopping off to have - a look at you. How little you have changed! Do you know, I was sure it - would be like that. You simply couldn't be different. How fine you are!” - He stepped back and looked at her admiringly. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra blushed and laughed again. “But you yourself, Carl—with - that beard—how could I have known you? You went away a little boy.” - She reached for his suitcase and when he intercepted her she threw up her - hands. “You see, I give myself away. I have only women come to visit me, - and I do not know how to behave. Where is your trunk?” - </p> - <p> - “It's in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. I am on my way to the - coast.” - </p> - <p> - They started up the path. “A few days? After all these years!” Alexandra - shook her finger at him. “See this, you have walked into a trap. You do - not get away so easy.” She put her hand affectionately on his shoulder. - “You owe me a visit for the sake of old times. Why must you go to the - coast at all?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From Seattle I go on to Alaska.” - </p> - <p> - “Alaska?” She looked at him in astonishment. “Are you going to paint the - Indians?” - </p> - <p> - “Paint?” the young man frowned. “Oh! I'm not a painter, Alexandra. I'm an - engraver. I have nothing to do with painting.” - </p> - <p> - “But on my parlor wall I have the paintings—” - </p> - <p> - He interrupted nervously. “Oh, water-color sketches—done for - amusement. I sent them to remind you of me, not because they were good. - What a wonderful place you have made of this, Alexandra.” He turned and - looked back at the wide, map-like prospect of field and hedge and pasture. - “I would never have believed it could be done. I'm disappointed in my own - eye, in my imagination.” - </p> - <p> - At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the hill from the orchard. They did - not quicken their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they did not openly - look in his direction. They advanced distrustfully, and as if they wished - the distance were longer. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra beckoned to them. “They think I am trying to fool them. Come, - boys, it's Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!” - </p> - <p> - Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance and thrust out his hand. - “Glad to see you.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar followed with “How d' do.” Carl could not tell whether their - offishness came from unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and - Alexandra led the way to the porch. - </p> - <p> - “Carl,” Alexandra explained, “is on his way to Seattle. He is going to - Alaska.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar studied the visitor's yellow shoes. “Got business there?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - Carl laughed. “Yes, very pressing business. I'm going there to get rich. - Engraving's a very interesting profession, but a man never makes any money - at it. So I'm going to try the goldfields.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, and Lou looked up with some - interest. “Ever done anything in that line before?” - </p> - <p> - “No, but I'm going to join a friend of mine who went out from New York and - has done well. He has offered to break me in.” - </p> - <p> - “Turrible cold winters, there, I hear,” remarked Oscar. “I thought people - went up there in the spring.” - </p> - <p> - “They do. But my friend is going to spend the winter in Seattle and I am - to stay with him there and learn something about prospecting before we - start north next year.” - </p> - <p> - Lou looked skeptical. “Let's see, how long have you been away from here?” - </p> - <p> - “Sixteen years. You ought to remember that, Lou, for you were married just - after we went away.” - </p> - <p> - “Going to stay with us some time?” Oscar asked. - </p> - <p> - “A few days, if Alexandra can keep me.” - </p> - <p> - “I expect you'll be wanting to see your old place,” Lou observed more - cordially. “You won't hardly know it. But there's a few chunks of your old - sod house left. Alexandra wouldn't never let Frank Shabata plough over - it.” - </p> - <p> - Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was announced, had been touching up - her hair and settling her lace and wishing she had worn another dress, now - emerged with her three daughters and introduced them. She was greatly - impressed by Carl's urban appearance, and in her excitement talked very - loud and threw her head about. “And you ain't married yet? At your age, - now! Think of that! You'll have to wait for Milly. Yes, we've got a boy, - too. The youngest. He's at home with his grandma. You must come over to - see mother and hear Milly play. She's the musician of the family. She does - pyrography, too. That's burnt wood, you know. You wouldn't believe what - she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes to school in town, and she is the - youngest in her class by two years.” - </p> - <p> - Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took her hand again. He liked her - creamy skin and happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her mother's - way of talking distressed her. “I'm sure she's a clever little girl,” he - murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. “Let me see—Ah, it's your - mother that she looks like, Alexandra. Mrs. Bergson must have looked just - like this when she was a little girl. Does Milly run about over the - country as you and Alexandra used to, Annie?” - </p> - <p> - Milly's mother protested. “Oh, my, no! Things has changed since we was - girls. Milly has it very different. We are going to rent the place and - move into town as soon as the girls are old enough to go out into company. - A good many are doing that here now. Lou is going into business.” - </p> - <p> - Lou grinned. “That's what she says. You better go get your things on. - Ivar's hitching up,” he added, turning to Annie. - </p> - <p> - Young farmers seldom address their wives by name. It is always “you,” or - “she.” - </p> - <p> - Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat down on the step and began to - whittle. “Well, what do folks in New York think of William Jennings - Bryan?” Lou began to bluster, as he always did when he talked politics. - “We gave Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all right, and we're fixing - another to hand them. Silver wasn't the only issue,” he nodded - mysteriously. “There's a good many things got to be changed. The West is - going to make itself heard.” - </p> - <p> - Carl laughed. “But, surely, it did do that, if nothing else.” - </p> - <p> - Lou's thin face reddened up to the roots of his bristly hair. “Oh, we've - only begun. We're waking up to a sense of our responsibilities, out here, - and we ain't afraid, neither. You fellows back there must be a tame lot. - If you had any nerve you'd get together and march down to Wall Street and - blow it up. Dynamite it, I mean,” with a threatening nod. - </p> - <p> - He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely knew how to answer him. “That - would be a waste of powder. The same business would go on in another - street. The street doesn't matter. But what have you fellows out here got - to kick about? You have the only safe place there is. Morgan himself - couldn't touch you. One only has to drive through this country to see that - you're all as rich as barons.” - </p> - <p> - “We have a good deal more to say than we had when we were poor,” said Lou - threateningly. “We're getting on to a whole lot of things.” - </p> - <p> - As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the gate, Annie came out in a hat - that looked like the model of a battleship. Carl rose and took her down to - the carriage, while Lou lingered for a word with his sister. - </p> - <p> - “What do you suppose he's come for?” he asked, jerking his head toward the - gate. - </p> - <p> - “Why, to pay us a visit. I've been begging him to for years.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar looked at Alexandra. “He didn't let you know he was coming?” - </p> - <p> - “No. Why should he? I told him to come at any time.” - </p> - <p> - Lou shrugged his shoulders. “He doesn't seem to have done much for - himself. Wandering around this way!” - </p> - <p> - Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of a cavern. “He never was much - account.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra left them and hurried down to the gate where Annie was rattling - on to Carl about her new dining-room furniture. “You must bring Mr. - Linstrum over real soon, only be sure to telephone me first,” she called - back, as Carl helped her into the carriage. Old Ivar, his white head bare, - stood holding the horses. Lou came down the path and climbed into the - front seat, took up the reins, and drove off without saying anything - further to any one. Oscar picked up his youngest boy and trudged off down - the road, the other three trotting after him. Carl, holding the gate open - for Alexandra, began to laugh. “Up and coming on the Divide, eh, - Alexandra?” he cried gayly. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IV - </h2> - <p> - Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less than one might have expected. - He had not become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There was still - something homely and wayward and definitely personal about him. Even his - clothes, his Norfolk coat and his very high collars, were a little - unconventional. He seemed to shrink into himself as he used to do; to hold - himself away from things, as if he were afraid of being hurt. In short, he - was more self-conscious than a man of thirty-five is expected to be. He - looked older than his years and not very strong. His black hair, which - still hung in a triangle over his pale forehead, was thin at the crown, - and there were fine, relentless lines about his eyes. His back, with its - high, sharp shoulders, looked like the back of an over-worked German - professor off on his holiday. His face was intelligent, sensitive, - unhappy. - </p> - <p> - That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the clump of - castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The gravel paths - glittered in the moonlight, and below them the fields lay white and still. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know, Alexandra,” he was saying, “I've been thinking how strangely - things work out. I've been away engraving other men's pictures, and you've - stayed at home and made your own.” He pointed with his cigar toward the - sleeping landscape. “How in the world have you done it? How have your - neighbors done it?” - </p> - <p> - “We hadn't any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. It had its - little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody knew how to work it - right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. It woke up out of its - sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, so rich, that we suddenly - found we were rich, just from sitting still. As for me, you remember when - I began to buy land. For years after that I was always squeezing and - borrowing until I was ashamed to show my face in the banks. And then, all - at once, men began to come to me offering to lend me money—and I - didn't need it! Then I went ahead and built this house. I really built it - for Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so different from the rest - of us!” - </p> - <p> - “How different?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you'll see! I'm sure it was to have sons like Emil, and to give them - a chance, that father left the old country. It's curious, too; on the - outside Emil is just like an American boy,—he graduated from the - State University in June, you know,—but underneath he is more - Swedish than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that he frightens - me; he is so violent in his feelings like that.” - </p> - <p> - “Is he going to farm here with you?” - </p> - <p> - “He shall do whatever he wants to,” Alexandra declared warmly. “He is - going to have a chance, a whole chance; that's what I've worked for. - Sometimes he talks about studying law, and sometimes, just lately, he's - been talking about going out into the sand hills and taking up more land. - He has his sad times, like father. But I hope he won't do that. We have - land enough, at last!” Alexandra laughed. - </p> - <p> - “How about Lou and Oscar? They've done well, haven't they?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, very well; but they are different, and now that they have farms of - their own I do not see so much of them. We divided the land equally when - Lou married. They have their own way of doing things, and they do not - altogether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps they think me too - independent. But I have had to think for myself a good many years and am - not likely to change. On the whole, though, we take as much comfort in - each other as most brothers and sisters do. And I am very fond of Lou's - oldest daughter.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, and they probably feel the - same about me. I even, if you can keep a secret,”—Carl leaned - forward and touched her arm, smiling,—“I even think I liked the old - country better. This is all very splendid in its way, but there was - something about this country when it was a wild old beast that has haunted - me all these years. Now, when I come back to all this milk and honey, I - feel like the old German song, 'Wo bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest - Land?'—Do you ever feel like that, I wonder?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sometimes, when I think about father and mother and those who are - gone; so many of our old neighbors.” Alexandra paused and looked up - thoughtfully at the stars. “We can remember the graveyard when it was wild - prairie, Carl, and now—” - </p> - <p> - “And now the old story has begun to write itself over there,” said Carl - softly. “Isn't it queer: there are only two or three human stories, and - they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened - before; like the larks in this country, that have been singing the same - five notes over for thousands of years.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! The young people, they live so hard. And yet I sometimes envy - them. There is my little neighbor, now; the people who bought your old - place. I wouldn't have sold it to any one else, but I was always fond of - that girl. You must remember her, little Marie Tovesky, from Omaha, who - used to visit here? When she was eighteen she ran away from the convent - school and got married, crazy child! She came out here a bride, with her - father and husband. He had nothing, and the old man was willing to buy - them a place and set them up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad to - have her so near me. I've never been sorry, either. I even try to get - along with Frank on her account.” - </p> - <p> - “Is Frank her husband?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. He's one of these wild fellows. Most Bohemians are good-natured, but - Frank thinks we don't appreciate him here, I guess. He's jealous about - everything, his farm and his horses and his pretty wife. Everybody likes - her, just the same as when she was little. Sometimes I go up to the - Catholic church with Emil, and it's funny to see Marie standing there - laughing and shaking hands with people, looking so excited and gay, with - Frank sulking behind her as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank's not a - bad neighbor, but to get on with him you've got to make a fuss over him - and act as if you thought he was a very important person all the time, and - different from other people. I find it hard to keep that up from one - year's end to another.” - </p> - <p> - “I shouldn't think you'd be very successful at that kind of thing, - Alexandra.” Carl seemed to find the idea amusing. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Alexandra firmly, “I do the best I can, on Marie's account. - She has it hard enough, anyway. She's too young and pretty for this sort - of life. We're all ever so much older and slower. But she's the kind that - won't be downed easily. She'll work all day and go to a Bohemian wedding - and dance all night, and drive the hay wagon for a cross man next morning. - I could stay by a job, but I never had the go in me that she has, when I - was going my best. I'll have to take you over to see her to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly among the castor beans and - sighed. “Yes, I suppose I must see the old place. I'm cowardly about - things that remind me of myself. It took courage to come at all, - Alexandra. I wouldn't have, if I hadn't wanted to see you very, very - much.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra looked at him with her calm, deliberate eyes. “Why do you dread - things like that, Carl?” she asked earnestly. “Why are you dissatisfied - with yourself?” - </p> - <p> - Her visitor winced. “How direct you are, Alexandra! Just like you used to - be. Do I give myself away so quickly? Well, you see, for one thing, - there's nothing to look forward to in my profession. Wood-engraving is the - only thing I care about, and that had gone out before I began. - Everything's cheap metal work nowadays, touching up miserable photographs, - forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good ones. I'm absolutely sick of - it all.” Carl frowned. “Alexandra, all the way out from New York I've been - planning how I could deceive you and make you think me a very enviable - fellow, and here I am telling you the truth the first night. I waste a lot - of time pretending to people, and the joke of it is, I don't think I ever - deceive any one. There are too many of my kind; people know us on sight.” - </p> - <p> - Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair back from her brow with a puzzled, - thoughtful gesture. “You see,” he went on calmly, “measured by your - standards here, I'm a failure. I couldn't buy even one of your cornfields. - I've enjoyed a great many things, but I've got nothing to show for it - all.” - </p> - <p> - “But you show for it yourself, Carl. I'd rather have had your freedom than - my land.” - </p> - <p> - Carl shook his head mournfully. “Freedom so often means that one isn't - needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a background of your - own, you would be missed. But off there in the cities there are thousands - of rolling stones like me. We are all alike; we have no ties, we know - nobody, we own nothing. When one of us dies, they scarcely know where to - bury him. Our landlady and the delicatessen man are our mourners, and we - leave nothing behind us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an easel, or a - typewriter, or whatever tool we got our living by. All we have ever - managed to do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent that one has to pay - for a few square feet of space near the heart of things. We have no house, - no place, no people of our own. We live in the streets, in the parks, in - the theatres. We sit in restaurants and concert halls and look about at - the hundreds of our own kind and shudder.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon made on - the surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that she understood - what he meant. At last she said slowly, “And yet I would rather have Emil - grow up like that than like his two brothers. We pay a high rent, too, - though we pay differently. We grow hard and heavy here. We don't move - lightly and easily as you do, and our minds get stiff. If the world were - no wider than my cornfields, if there were not something beside this, I - wouldn't feel that it was much worth while to work. No, I would rather - have Emil like you than like them. I felt that as soon as you came.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder why you feel like that?” Carl mused. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know. Perhaps I am like Carrie Jensen, the sister of one of my - hired men. She had never been out of the cornfields, and a few years ago - she got despondent and said life was just the same thing over and over, - and she didn't see the use of it. After she had tried to kill herself once - or twice, her folks got worried and sent her over to Iowa to visit some - relations. Ever since she's come back she's been perfectly cheerful, and - she says she's contented to live and work in a world that's so big and - interesting. She said that anything as big as the bridges over the Platte - and the Missouri reconciled her. And it's what goes on in the world that - reconciles me.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - V - </h2> - <p> - Alexandra did not find time to go to her neighbor's the next day, nor the - next. It was a busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing going on, - and even Emil was in the field with a team and cultivator. Carl went about - over the farms with Alexandra in the morning, and in the afternoon and - evening they found a great deal to talk about. Emil, for all his track - practice, did not stand up under farmwork very well, and by night he was - too tired to talk or even to practise on his cornet. - </p> - <p> - On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it was light, and stole downstairs - and out of the kitchen door just as old Ivar was making his morning - ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded to him and hurried up the draw, past - the garden, and into the pasture where the milking cows used to be kept. - </p> - <p> - The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire that was - burning under the edge of the world. The color was reflected in the - globules of dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass. Carl walked - rapidly until he came to the crest of the second hill, where the Bergson - pasture joined the one that had belonged to his father. There he sat down - and waited for the sun to rise. It was just there that he and Alexandra - used to do their milking together, he on his side of the fence, she on - hers. He could remember exactly how she looked when she came over the - close-cropped grass, her skirts pinned up, her head bare, a bright tin - pail in either hand, and the milky light of the early morning all about - her. Even as a boy he used to feel, when he saw her coming with her free - step, her upright head and calm shoulders, that she looked as if she had - walked straight out of the morning itself. Since then, when he had - happened to see the sun come up in the country or on the water, he had - often remembered the young Swedish girl and her milking pails. - </p> - <p> - Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in the grass - about him all the small creatures of day began to tune their tiny - instruments. Birds and insects without number began to chirp, to twitter, - to snap and whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill noises. The - pasture was flooded with light; every clump of ironweed and - snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden light seemed to - be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racing in. - </p> - <p> - He crossed the fence into the pasture that was now the Shabatas' and - continued his walk toward the pond. He had not gone far, however, when he - discovered that he was not the only person abroad. In the draw below, his - gun in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, with a young woman - beside him. They were moving softly, keeping close together, and Carl knew - that they expected to find ducks on the pond. At the moment when they came - in sight of the bright spot of water, he heard a whirr of wings and the - ducks shot up into the air. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and five - of the birds fell to the ground. Emil and his companion laughed - delightedly, and Emil ran to pick them up. When he came back, dangling the - ducks by their feet, Marie held her apron and he dropped them into it. As - she stood looking down at them, her face changed. She took up one of the - birds, a rumpled ball of feathers with the blood dripping slowly from its - mouth, and looked at the live color that still burned on its plumage. - </p> - <p> - As she let it fall, she cried in distress, “Oh, Emil, why did you?” - </p> - <p> - “I like that!” the boy exclaimed indignantly. “Why, Marie, you asked me to - come yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, I know,” she said tearfully, “but I didn't think. I hate to see - them when they are first shot. They were having such a good time, and - we've spoiled it all for them.” - </p> - <p> - Emil gave a rather sore laugh. “I should say we had! I'm not going hunting - with you any more. You're as bad as Ivar. Here, let me take them.” He - snatched the ducks out of her apron. - </p> - <p> - “Don't be cross, Emil. Only—Ivar's right about wild things. They're - too happy to kill. You can tell just how they felt when they flew up. They - were scared, but they didn't really think anything could hurt them. No, we - won't do that any more.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” Emil assented. “I'm sorry I made you feel bad.” As he looked - down into her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp young bitterness in - his own. - </p> - <p> - Carl watched them as they moved slowly down the draw. They had not seen - him at all. He had not overheard much of their dialogue, but he felt the - import of it. It made him, somehow, unreasonably mournful to find two - young things abroad in the pasture in the early morning. He decided that - he needed his breakfast. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VI - </h2> - <p> - At dinner that day Alexandra said she thought they must really manage to - go over to the Shabatas' that afternoon. “It's not often I let three days - go by without seeing Marie. She will think I have forsaken her, now that - my old friend has come back.” - </p> - <p> - After the men had gone back to work, Alexandra put on a white dress and - her sun-hat, and she and Carl set forth across the fields. “You see we - have kept up the old path, Carl. It has been so nice for me to feel that - there was a friend at the other end of it again.” - </p> - <p> - Carl smiled a little ruefully. “All the same, I hope it hasn't been QUITE - the same.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra looked at him with surprise. “Why, no, of course not. Not the - same. She could not very well take your place, if that's what you mean. - I'm friendly with all my neighbors, I hope. But Marie is really a - companion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. You wouldn't want me to - be more lonely than I have been, would you?” - </p> - <p> - Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular lock of hair with the edge of - his hat. “Of course I don't. I ought to be thankful that this path hasn't - been worn by—well, by friends with more pressing errands than your - little Bohemian is likely to have.” He paused to give Alexandra his hand - as she stepped over the stile. “Are you the least bit disappointed in our - coming together again?” he asked abruptly. “Is it the way you hoped it - would be?” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra smiled at this. “Only better. When I've thought about your - coming, I've sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have lived where - things move so fast, and everything is slow here; the people slowest of - all. Our lives are like the years, all made up of weather and crops and - cows. How you hated cows!” She shook her head and laughed to herself. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't when we milked together. I walked up to the pasture corners this - morning. I wonder whether I shall ever be able to tell you all that I was - thinking about up there. It's a strange thing, Alexandra; I find it easy - to be frank with you about everything under the sun except—yourself!” - </p> - <p> - “You are afraid of hurting my feelings, perhaps.” Alexandra looked at him - thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “No, I'm afraid of giving you a shock. You've seen yourself for so long in - the dull minds of the people about you, that if I were to tell you how you - seem to me, it would startle you. But you must see that you astonish me. - You must feel when people admire you.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra blushed and laughed with some confusion. “I felt that you were - pleased with me, if you mean that.” - </p> - <p> - “And you've felt when other people were pleased with you?” he insisted. - </p> - <p> - “Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the banks and the county offices, - seem glad to see me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant to do business - with people who are clean and healthy-looking,” she admitted blandly. - </p> - <p> - Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the Shabatas' gate for her. “Oh, - do you?” he asked dryly. - </p> - <p> - There was no sign of life about the Shabatas' house except a big yellow - cat, sunning itself on the kitchen doorstep. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra took the path that led to the orchard. “She often sits there and - sews. I didn't telephone her we were coming, because I didn't want her to - go to work and bake cake and freeze ice-cream. She'll always make a party - if you give her the least excuse. Do you recognize the apple trees, Carl?” - </p> - <p> - Linstrum looked about him. “I wish I had a dollar for every bucket of - water I've carried for those trees. Poor father, he was an easy man, but - he was perfectly merciless when it came to watering the orchard.” - </p> - <p> - “That's one thing I like about Germans; they make an orchard grow if they - can't make anything else. I'm so glad these trees belong to some one who - takes comfort in them. When I rented this place, the tenants never kept - the orchard up, and Emil and I used to come over and take care of it - ourselves. It needs mowing now. There she is, down in the corner. - Maria-a-a!” she called. - </p> - <p> - A recumbent figure started up from the grass and came running toward them - through the flickering screen of light and shade. - </p> - <p> - “Look at her! Isn't she like a little brown rabbit?” Alexandra laughed. - </p> - <p> - Maria ran up panting and threw her arms about Alexandra. “Oh, I had begun - to think you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you were so busy. Yes, - Emil told me about Mr. Linstrum being here. Won't you come up to the - house?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not sit down there in your corner? Carl wants to see the orchard. He - kept all these trees alive for years, watering them with his own back.” - </p> - <p> - Marie turned to Carl. “Then I'm thankful to you, Mr. Linstrum. We'd never - have bought the place if it hadn't been for this orchard, and then I - wouldn't have had Alexandra, either.” She gave Alexandra's arm a little - squeeze as she walked beside her. “How nice your dress smells, Alexandra; - you put rosemary leaves in your chest, like I told you.” - </p> - <p> - She led them to the northwest corner of the orchard, sheltered on one side - by a thick mulberry hedge and bordered on the other by a wheatfield, just - beginning to yellow. In this corner the ground dipped a little, and the - blue-grass, which the weeds had driven out in the upper part of the - orchard, grew thick and luxuriant. Wild roses were flaming in the tufts of - bunchgrass along the fence. Under a white mulberry tree there was an old - wagon-seat. Beside it lay a book and a workbasket. - </p> - <p> - “You must have the seat, Alexandra. The grass would stain your dress,” the - hostess insisted. She dropped down on the ground at Alexandra's side and - tucked her feet under her. Carl sat at a little distance from the two - women, his back to the wheatfield, and watched them. Alexandra took off - her shade-hat and threw it on the ground. Marie picked it up and played - with the white ribbons, twisting them about her brown fingers as she - talked. They made a pretty picture in the strong sunlight, the leafy - pattern surrounding them like a net; the Swedish woman so white and gold, - kindly and amused, but armored in calm, and the alert brown one, her full - lips parted, points of yellow light dancing in her eyes as she laughed and - chattered. Carl had never forgotten little Marie Tovesky's eyes, and he - was glad to have an opportunity to study them. The brown iris, he found, - was curiously slashed with yellow, the color of sunflower honey, or of old - amber. In each eye one of these streaks must have been larger than the - others, for the effect was that of two dancing points of light, two little - yellow bubbles, such as rise in a glass of champagne. Sometimes they - seemed like the sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily excited, to - kindle with a fierce little flame if one but breathed upon her. “What a - waste,” Carl reflected. “She ought to be doing all that for a sweetheart. - How awkwardly things come about!” - </p> - <p> - It was not very long before Marie sprang up out of the grass again. “Wait - a moment. I want to show you something.” She ran away and disappeared - behind the low-growing apple trees. - </p> - <p> - “What a charming creature,” Carl murmured. “I don't wonder that her - husband is jealous. But can't she walk? does she always run?” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra nodded. “Always. I don't see many people, but I don't believe - there are many like her, anywhere.” - </p> - <p> - Marie came back with a branch she had broken from an apricot tree, laden - with pale yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it beside Carl. “Did you - plant those, too? They are such beautiful little trees.” - </p> - <p> - Carl fingered the blue-green leaves, porous like blotting-paper and shaped - like birch leaves, hung on waxen red stems. “Yes, I think I did. Are these - the circus trees, Alexandra?” - </p> - <p> - “Shall I tell her about them?” Alexandra asked. “Sit down like a good - girl, Marie, and don't ruin my poor hat, and I'll tell you a story. A long - time ago, when Carl and I were, say, sixteen and twelve, a circus came to - Hanover and we went to town in our wagon, with Lou and Oscar, to see the - parade. We hadn't money enough to go to the circus. We followed the parade - out to the circus grounds and hung around until the show began and the - crowd went inside the tent. Then Lou was afraid we looked foolish standing - outside in the pasture, so we went back to Hanover feeling very sad. There - was a man in the streets selling apricots, and we had never seen any - before. He had driven down from somewhere up in the French country, and he - was selling them twenty-five cents a peck. We had a little money our - fathers had given us for candy, and I bought two pecks and Carl bought - one. They cheered us a good deal, and we saved all the seeds and planted - them. Up to the time Carl went away, they hadn't borne at all.” - </p> - <p> - “And now he's come back to eat them,” cried Marie, nodding at Carl. “That - IS a good story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Linstrum. I used to see - you in Hanover sometimes, when Uncle Joe took me to town. I remember you - because you were always buying pencils and tubes of paint at the drug - store. Once, when my uncle left me at the store, you drew a lot of little - birds and flowers for me on a piece of wrapping-paper. I kept them for a - long while. I thought you were very romantic because you could draw and - had such black eyes.” - </p> - <p> - Carl smiled. “Yes, I remember that time. Your uncle bought you some kind - of a mechanical toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman and smoking a - hookah, wasn't it? And she turned her head backwards and forwards.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! Wasn't she splendid! I knew well enough I ought not to tell - Uncle Joe I wanted it, for he had just come back from the saloon and was - feeling good. You remember how he laughed? She tickled him, too. But when - we got home, my aunt scolded him for buying toys when she needed so many - things. We wound our lady up every night, and when she began to move her - head my aunt used to laugh as hard as any of us. It was a music-box, you - know, and the Turkish lady played a tune while she smoked. That was how - she made you feel so jolly. As I remember her, she was lovely, and had a - gold crescent on her turban.” - </p> - <p> - Half an hour later, as they were leaving the house, Carl and Alexandra - were met in the path by a strapping fellow in overalls and a blue shirt. - He was breathing hard, as if he had been running, and was muttering to - himself. - </p> - <p> - Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the arm, gave him a little push - toward her guests. “Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum.” - </p> - <p> - Frank took off his broad straw hat and nodded to Alexandra. When he spoke - to Carl, he showed a fine set of white teeth. He was burned a dull red - down to his neckband, and there was a heavy three-days' stubble on his - face. Even in his agitation he was handsome, but he looked a rash and - violent man. - </p> - <p> - Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once to his wife and began, in - an outraged tone, “I have to leave my team to drive the old woman Hiller's - hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat old woman to de court if she ain't - careful, I tell you!” - </p> - <p> - His wife spoke soothingly. “But, Frank, she has only her lame boy to help - her. She does the best she can.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra looked at the excited man and offered a suggestion. “Why don't - you go over there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? You'd save time - for yourself in the end.” - </p> - <p> - Frank's neck stiffened. “Not-a-much, I won't. I keep my hogs home. Other - peoples can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend shoes, he can mend - fence.” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe,” said Alexandra placidly; “but I've found it sometimes pays to - mend other people's fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to see me soon.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra walked firmly down the path and Carl followed her. - </p> - <p> - Frank went into the house and threw himself on the sofa, his face to the - wall, his clenched fist on his hip. Marie, having seen her guests off, - came in and put her hand coaxingly on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Poor Frank! You've run until you've made your head ache, now haven't you? - Let me make you some coffee.” - </p> - <p> - “What else am I to do?” he cried hotly in Bohemian. “Am I to let any old - woman's hogs root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself to death for?” - </p> - <p> - “Don't worry about it, Frank. I'll speak to Mrs. Hiller again. But, - really, she almost cried last time they got out, she was so sorry.” - </p> - <p> - Frank bounced over on his other side. “That's it; you always side with - them against me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free to borrow the - mower and break it, or turn their hogs in on me. They know you won't - care!” - </p> - <p> - Marie hurried away to make his coffee. When she came back, he was fast - asleep. She sat down and looked at him for a long while, very - thoughtfully. When the kitchen clock struck six she went out to get - supper, closing the door gently behind her. She was always sorry for Frank - when he worked himself into one of these rages, and she was sorry to have - him rough and quarrelsome with his neighbors. She was perfectly aware that - the neighbors had a good deal to put up with, and that they bore with - Frank for her sake. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VII - </h2> - <p> - Marie's father, Albert Tovesky, was one of the more intelligent Bohemians - who came West in the early seventies. He settled in Omaha and became a - leader and adviser among his people there. Marie was his youngest child, - by a second wife, and was the apple of his eye. She was barely sixteen, - and was in the graduating class of the Omaha High School, when Frank - Shabata arrived from the old country and set all the Bohemian girls in a - flutter. He was easily the buck of the beer-gardens, and on Sunday he was - a sight to see, with his silk hat and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, - wearing gloves and carrying a little wisp of a yellow cane. He was tall - and fair, with splendid teeth and close-cropped yellow curls, and he wore - a slightly disdainful expression, proper for a young man with high - connections, whose mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. There was - often an interesting discontent in his blue eyes, and every Bohemian girl - he met imagined herself the cause of that unsatisfied expression. He had a - way of drawing out his cambric handkerchief slowly, by one corner, from - his breast-pocket, that was melancholy and romantic in the extreme. He - took a little flight with each of the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it - was when he was with little Marie Tovesky that he drew his handkerchief - out most slowly, and, after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match - most despairingly. Any one could see, with half an eye, that his proud - heart was bleeding for somebody. - </p> - <p> - One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie's graduation, she met Frank at - a Bohemian picnic down the river and went rowing with him all the - afternoon. When she got home that evening she went straight to her - father's room and told him that she was engaged to Shabata. Old Tovesky - was having a comfortable pipe before he went to bed. When he heard his - daughter's announcement, he first prudently corked his beer bottle and - then leaped to his feet and had a turn of temper. He characterized Frank - Shabata by a Bohemian expression which is the equivalent of stuffed shirt. - </p> - <p> - “Why don't he go to work like the rest of us did? His farm in the Elbe - valley, indeed! Ain't he got plenty brothers and sisters? It's his - mother's farm, and why don't he stay at home and help her? Haven't I seen - his mother out in the morning at five o'clock with her ladle and her big - bucket on wheels, putting liquid manure on the cabbages? Don't I know the - look of old Eva Shabata's hands? Like an old horse's hoofs they are—and - this fellow wearing gloves and rings! Engaged, indeed! You aren't fit to - be out of school, and that's what's the matter with you. I will send you - off to the Sisters of the Sacred Heart in St. Louis, and they will teach - you some sense, <i>I</i> guess!” - </p> - <p> - Accordingly, the very next week, Albert Tovesky took his daughter, pale - and tearful, down the river to the convent. But the way to make Frank want - anything was to tell him he couldn't have it. He managed to have an - interview with Marie before she went away, and whereas he had been only - half in love with her before, he now persuaded himself that he would not - stop at anything. Marie took with her to the convent, under the canvas - lining of her trunk, the results of a laborious and satisfying morning on - Frank's part; no less than a dozen photographs of himself, taken in a - dozen different love-lorn attitudes. There was a little round photograph - for her watch-case, photographs for her wall and dresser, and even long - narrow ones to be used as bookmarks. More than once the handsome gentleman - was torn to pieces before the French class by an indignant nun. - </p> - <p> - Marie pined in the convent for a year, until her eighteenth birthday was - passed. Then she met Frank Shabata in the Union Station in St. Louis and - ran away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his daughter because there was - nothing else to do, and bought her a farm in the country that she had - loved so well as a child. Since then her story had been a part of the - history of the Divide. She and Frank had been living there for five years - when Carl Linstrum came back to pay his long deferred visit to Alexandra. - Frank had, on the whole, done better than one might have expected. He had - flung himself at the soil with savage energy. Once a year he went to - Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He stayed away for a week or two, and - then came home and worked like a demon. He did work; if he felt sorry for - himself, that was his own affair. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VIII - </h2> - <p> - On the evening of the day of Alexandra's call at the Shabatas', a heavy - rain set in. Frank sat up until a late hour reading the Sunday newspapers. - One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, and Frank took it as a personal - affront. In printing the story of the young man's marital troubles, the - knowing editor gave a sufficiently colored account of his career, stating - the amount of his income and the manner in which he was supposed to spend - it. Frank read English slowly, and the more he read about this divorce - case, the angrier he grew. At last he threw down the page with a snort. He - turned to his farm-hand who was reading the other half of the paper. - </p> - <p> - “By God! if I have that young feller in de hayfield once, I show him - someting. Listen here what he do wit his money.” And Frank began the - catalogue of the young man's reputed extravagances. - </p> - <p> - Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the Goulds, for whom she had - nothing but good will, should make her so much trouble. She hated to see - the Sunday newspapers come into the house. Frank was always reading about - the doings of rich people and feeling outraged. He had an inexhaustible - stock of stories about their crimes and follies, how they bribed the - courts and shot down their butlers with impunity whenever they chose. - Frank and Lou Bergson had very similar ideas, and they were two of the - political agitators of the county. - </p> - <p> - The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the ground was - too wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to Sainte-Agnes to - spend the day at Moses Marcel's saloon. After he was gone, Marie went out - to the back porch to begin her butter-making. A brisk wind had come up and - was driving puffy white clouds across the sky. The orchard was sparkling - and rippling in the sun. Marie stood looking toward it wistfully, her hand - on the lid of the churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the air, the merry - sound of the whetstone on the scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran - into the house, put on a short skirt and a pair of her husband's boots, - caught up a tin pail and started for the orchard. Emil had already begun - work and was mowing vigorously. When he saw her coming, he stopped and - wiped his brow. His yellow canvas leggings and khaki trousers were - splashed to the knees. - </p> - <p> - “Don't let me disturb you, Emil. I'm going to pick cherries. Isn't - everything beautiful after the rain? Oh, but I'm glad to get this place - mowed! When I heard it raining in the night, I thought maybe you would - come and do it for me to-day. The wind wakened me. Didn't it blow - dreadfully? Just smell the wild roses! They are always so spicy after a - rain. We never had so many of them in here before. I suppose it's the wet - season. Will you have to cut them, too?” - </p> - <p> - “If I cut the grass, I will,” Emil said teasingly. “What's the matter with - you? What makes you so flighty?” - </p> - <p> - “Am I flighty? I suppose that's the wet season, too, then. It's exciting - to see everything growing so fast,—and to get the grass cut! Please - leave the roses till last, if you must cut them. Oh, I don't mean all of - them, I mean that low place down by my tree, where there are so many. - Aren't you splashed! Look at the spider-webs all over the grass. Good-bye. - I'll call you if I see a snake.” - </p> - <p> - She tripped away and Emil stood looking after her. In a few moments he - heard the cherries dropping smartly into the pail, and he began to swing - his scythe with that long, even stroke that few American boys ever learn. - Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, stripping one glittering - branch after another, shivering when she caught a shower of raindrops on - her neck and hair. And Emil mowed his way slowly down toward the cherry - trees. - </p> - <p> - That summer the rains had been so many and opportune that it was almost - more than Shabata and his man could do to keep up with the corn; the - orchard was a neglected wilderness. All sorts of weeds and herbs and - flowers had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, pale - green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, plantations of wild cotton, tangles - of foxtail and wild wheat. South of the apricot trees, cornering on the - wheatfield, was Frank's alfalfa, where myriads of white and yellow - butterflies were always fluttering above the purple blossoms. When Emil - reached the lower corner by the hedge, Marie was sitting under her white - mulberry tree, the pailful of cherries beside her, looking off at the - gentle, tireless swelling of the wheat. - </p> - <p> - “Emil,” she said suddenly—he was mowing quietly about under the tree - so as not to disturb her—“what religion did the Swedes have away - back, before they were Christians?” - </p> - <p> - Emil paused and straightened his back. “I don't know. About like the - Germans', wasn't it?” - </p> - <p> - Marie went on as if she had not heard him. “The Bohemians, you know, were - tree worshipers before the missionaries came. Father says the people in - the mountains still do queer things, sometimes,—they believe that - trees bring good or bad luck.” - </p> - <p> - Emil looked superior. “Do they? Well, which are the lucky trees? I'd like - to know.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know all of them, but I know lindens are. The old people in the - mountains plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do away with the - spells that come from the old trees they say have lasted from heathen - times. I'm a good Catholic, but I think I could get along with caring for - trees, if I hadn't anything else.” - </p> - <p> - “That's a poor saying,” said Emil, stooping over to wipe his hands in the - wet grass. - </p> - <p> - “Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that way. I like trees because they - seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do. I - feel as if this tree knows everything I ever think of when I sit here. - When I come back to it, I never have to remind it of anything; I begin - just where I left off.” - </p> - <p> - Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached up among the branches and - began to pick the sweet, insipid fruit,—long ivory-colored berries, - tipped with faint pink, like white coral, that fall to the ground unheeded - all summer through. He dropped a handful into her lap. - </p> - <p> - “Do you like Mr. Linstrum?” Marie asked suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Don't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of staid and school-teachery. But, - of course, he is older than Frank, even. I'm sure I don't want to live to - be more than thirty, do you? Do you think Alexandra likes him very much?” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose so. They were old friends.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!” Marie tossed her head impatiently. “Does - she really care about him? When she used to tell me about him, I always - wondered whether she wasn't a little in love with him.” - </p> - <p> - “Who, Alexandra?” Emil laughed and thrust his hands into his trousers - pockets. “Alexandra's never been in love, you crazy!” He laughed again. - “She wouldn't know how to go about it. The idea!” - </p> - <p> - Marie shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, you don't know Alexandra as well as you - think you do! If you had any eyes, you would see that she is very fond of - him. It would serve you all right if she walked off with Carl. I like him - because he appreciates her more than you do.” - </p> - <p> - Emil frowned. “What are you talking about, Marie? Alexandra's all right. - She and I have always been good friends. What more do you want? I like to - talk to Carl about New York and what a fellow can do there.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of going off there?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn't I?” The young man took up his - scythe and leaned on it. “Would you rather I went off in the sand hills - and lived like Ivar?” - </p> - <p> - Marie's face fell under his brooding gaze. She looked down at his wet - leggings. “I'm sure Alexandra hopes you will stay on here,” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “Then Alexandra will be disappointed,” the young man said roughly. “What - do I want to hang around here for? Alexandra can run the farm all right, - without me. I don't want to stand around and look on. I want to be doing - something on my own account.” - </p> - <p> - “That's so,” Marie sighed. “There are so many, many things you can do. - Almost anything you choose.” - </p> - <p> - “And there are so many, many things I can't do.” Emil echoed her tone - sarcastically. “Sometimes I don't want to do anything at all, and - sometimes I want to pull the four corners of the Divide together,”—he - threw out his arm and brought it back with a jerk,—“so, like a - table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses going up and down, up - and down.” - </p> - <p> - Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her face clouded. “I wish you - weren't so restless, and didn't get so worked up over things,” she said - sadly. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” he returned shortly. - </p> - <p> - She sighed despondently. “Everything I say makes you cross, don't it? And - you never used to be cross to me.” - </p> - <p> - Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning down at her bent head. He stood - in an attitude of self-defense, his feet well apart, his hands clenched - and drawn up at his sides, so that the cords stood out on his bare arms. - “I can't play with you like a little boy any more,” he said slowly. - “That's what you miss, Marie. You'll have to get some other little boy to - play with.” He stopped and took a deep breath. Then he went on in a low - tone, so intense that it was almost threatening: “Sometimes you seem to - understand perfectly, and then sometimes you pretend you don't. You don't - help things any by pretending. It's then that I want to pull the corners - of the Divide together. If you WON'T understand, you know, I could make - you!” - </p> - <p> - Marie clasped her hands and started up from her seat. She had grown very - pale and her eyes were shining with excitement and distress. “But, Emil, - if I understand, then all our good times are over, we can never do nice - things together any more. We shall have to behave like Mr. Linstrum. And, - anyhow, there's nothing to understand!” She struck the ground with her - little foot fiercely. “That won't last. It will go away, and things will - be just as they used to. I wish you were a Catholic. The Church helps - people, indeed it does. I pray for you, but that's not the same as if you - prayed yourself.” - </p> - <p> - She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked entreatingly into his face. Emil - stood defiant, gazing down at her. - </p> - <p> - “I can't pray to have the things I want,” he said slowly, “and I won't - pray not to have them, not if I'm damned for it.” - </p> - <p> - Marie turned away, wringing her hands. “Oh, Emil, you won't try! Then all - our good times are over.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; over. I never expect to have any more.” - </p> - <p> - Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe and began to mow. Marie took up - her cherries and went slowly toward the house, crying bitterly. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IX - </h2> - <p> - On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl Linstrum's arrival, he rode with - Emil up into the French country to attend a Catholic fair. He sat for most - of the afternoon in the basement of the church, where the fair was held, - talking to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the gravel terrace, thrown up - on the hillside in front of the basement doors, where the French boys were - jumping and wrestling and throwing the discus. Some of the boys were in - their white baseball suits; they had just come up from a Sunday practice - game down in the ballgrounds. Amedee, the newly married, Emil's best - friend, was their pitcher, renowned among the country towns for his dash - and skill. Amedee was a little fellow, a year younger than Emil and much - more boyish in appearance; very lithe and active and neatly made, with a - clear brown and white skin, and flashing white teeth. The Sainte-Agnes - boys were to play the Hastings nine in a fortnight, and Amedee's lightning - balls were the hope of his team. The little Frenchman seemed to get every - ounce there was in him behind the ball as it left his hand. - </p> - <p> - “You'd have made the battery at the University for sure, 'Medee,” Emil - said as they were walking from the ball-grounds back to the church on the - hill. “You're pitching better than you did in the spring.” - </p> - <p> - Amedee grinned. “Sure! A married man don't lose his head no more.” He - slapped Emil on the back as he caught step with him. “Oh, Emil, you wanna - get married right off quick! It's the greatest thing ever!” - </p> - <p> - Emil laughed. “How am I going to get married without any girl?” - </p> - <p> - Amedee took his arm. “Pooh! There are plenty girls will have you. You - wanna get some nice French girl, now. She treat you well; always be jolly. - See,”—he began checking off on his fingers,—“there is - Severine, and Alphosen, and Josephine, and Hectorine, and Louise, and - Malvina—why, I could love any of them girls! Why don't you get after - them? Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the matter with you? I never - did know a boy twenty-two years old before that didn't have no girl. You - wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a for me!” Amedee swaggered. “I bring many - good Catholics into this world, I hope, and that's a way I help the - Church.” - </p> - <p> - Emil looked down and patted him on the shoulder. “Now you're windy, - 'Medee. You Frenchies like to brag.” - </p> - <p> - But Amedee had the zeal of the newly married, and he was not to be lightly - shaken off. “Honest and true, Emil, don't you want ANY girl? Maybe there's - some young lady in Lincoln, now, very grand,”—Amedee waved his hand - languidly before his face to denote the fan of heartless beauty,—“and - you lost your heart up there. Is that it?” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe,” said Emil. - </p> - <p> - But Amedee saw no appropriate glow in his friend's face. “Bah!” he - exclaimed in disgust. “I tell all the French girls to keep 'way from you. - You gotta rock in there,” thumping Emil on the ribs. - </p> - <p> - When they reached the terrace at the side of the church, Amedee, who was - excited by his success on the ball-grounds, challenged Emil to a - jumping-match, though he knew he would be beaten. They belted themselves - up, and Raoul Marcel, the choir tenor and Father Duchesne's pet, and Jean - Bordelau, held the string over which they vaulted. All the French boys - stood round, cheering and humping themselves up when Emil or Amedee went - over the wire, as if they were helping in the lift. Emil stopped at - five-feet-five, declaring that he would spoil his appetite for supper if - he jumped any more. - </p> - <p> - Angelique, Amedee's pretty bride, as blonde and fair as her name, who had - come out to watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and said:— - </p> - <p> - “'Medee could jump much higher than you if he were as tall. And anyhow, he - is much more graceful. He goes over like a bird, and you have to hump - yourself all up.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I do, do I?” Emil caught her and kissed her saucy mouth squarely, - while she laughed and struggled and called, “'Medee! 'Medee!” - </p> - <p> - “There, you see your 'Medee isn't even big enough to get you away from me. - I could run away with you right now and he could only sit down and cry - about it. I'll show you whether I have to hump myself!” Laughing and - panting, he picked Angelique up in his arms and began running about the - rectangle with her. Not until he saw Marie Shabata's tiger eyes flashing - from the gloom of the basement doorway did he hand the disheveled bride - over to her husband. “There, go to your graceful; I haven't the heart to - take you away from him.” - </p> - <p> - Angelique clung to her husband and made faces at Emil over the white - shoulder of Amedee's ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused at her air of - proprietorship and at Amedee's shameless submission to it. He was - delighted with his friend's good fortune. He liked to see and to think - about Amedee's sunny, natural, happy love. - </p> - <p> - He and Amedee had ridden and wrestled and larked together since they were - lads of twelve. On Sundays and holidays they were always arm in arm. It - seemed strange that now he should have to hide the thing that Amedee was - so proud of, that the feeling which gave one of them such happiness should - bring the other such despair. It was like that when Alexandra tested her - seed-corn in the spring, he mused. From two ears that had grown side by - side, the grains of one shot up joyfully into the light, projecting - themselves into the future, and the grains from the other lay still in the - earth and rotted; and nobody knew why. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - X - </h2> - <p> - While Emil and Carl were amusing themselves at the fair, Alexandra was at - home, busy with her account-books, which had been neglected of late. She - was almost through with her figures when she heard a cart drive up to the - gate, and looking out of the window she saw her two older brothers. They - had seemed to avoid her ever since Carl Linstrum's arrival, four weeks ago - that day, and she hurried to the door to welcome them. She saw at once - that they had come with some very definite purpose. They followed her - stiffly into the sitting-room. Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the - window and remained standing, his hands behind him. - </p> - <p> - “You are by yourself?” he asked, looking toward the doorway into the - parlor. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Carl and Emil went up to the Catholic fair.” - </p> - <p> - For a few moments neither of the men spoke. - </p> - <p> - Then Lou came out sharply. “How soon does he intend to go away from here?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know, Lou. Not for some time, I hope.” Alexandra spoke in an - even, quiet tone that often exasperated her brothers. They felt that she - was trying to be superior with them. - </p> - <p> - Oscar spoke up grimly. “We thought we ought to tell you that people have - begun to talk,” he said meaningly. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra looked at him. “What about?” - </p> - <p> - Oscar met her eyes blankly. “About you, keeping him here so long. It looks - bad for him to be hanging on to a woman this way. People think you're - getting taken in.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra shut her account-book firmly. “Boys,” she said seriously, “don't - let's go on with this. We won't come out anywhere. I can't take advice on - such a matter. I know you mean well, but you must not feel responsible for - me in things of this sort. If we go on with this talk it will only make - hard feeling.” - </p> - <p> - Lou whipped about from the window. “You ought to think a little about your - family. You're making us all ridiculous.” - </p> - <p> - “How am I?” - </p> - <p> - “People are beginning to say you want to marry the fellow.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, and what is ridiculous about that?” - </p> - <p> - Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. “Alexandra! Can't you see he's - just a tramp and he's after your money? He wants to be taken care of, he - does!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, suppose I want to take care of him? Whose business is it but my - own?” - </p> - <p> - “Don't you know he'd get hold of your property?” - </p> - <p> - “He'd get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar sat up suddenly and Lou clutched at his bristly hair. - </p> - <p> - “Give him?” Lou shouted. “Our property, our homestead?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know about the homestead,” said Alexandra quietly. “I know you - and Oscar have always expected that it would be left to your children, and - I'm not sure but what you're right. But I'll do exactly as I please with - the rest of my land, boys.” - </p> - <p> - “The rest of your land!” cried Lou, growing more excited every minute. - “Didn't all the land come out of the homestead? It was bought with money - borrowed on the homestead, and Oscar and me worked ourselves to the bone - paying interest on it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you paid the interest. But when you married we made a division of - the land, and you were satisfied. I've made more on my farms since I've - been alone than when we all worked together.” - </p> - <p> - “Everything you've made has come out of the original land that us boys - worked for, hasn't it? The farms and all that comes out of them belongs to - us as a family.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. “Come now, Lou. Stick to the facts. - You are talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and ask him who owns my - land, and whether my titles are good.” - </p> - <p> - Lou turned to his brother. “This is what comes of letting a woman meddle - in business,” he said bitterly. “We ought to have taken things in our own - hands years ago. But she liked to run things, and we humored her. We - thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We never thought you'd do anything - foolish.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk with her knuckles. “Listen, Lou. - Don't talk wild. You say you ought to have taken things into your own - hands years ago. I suppose you mean before you left home. But how could - you take hold of what wasn't there? I've got most of what I have now since - we divided the property; I've built it up myself, and it has nothing to do - with you.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar spoke up solemnly. “The property of a family really belongs to the - men of the family, no matter about the title. If anything goes wrong, it's - the men that are held responsible.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, of course,” Lou broke in. “Everybody knows that. Oscar and me have - always been easy-going and we've never made any fuss. We were willing you - should hold the land and have the good of it, but you got no right to part - with any of it. We worked in the fields to pay for the first land you - bought, and whatever's come out of it has got to be kept in the family.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed on the one point he could - see. “The property of a family belongs to the men of the family, because - they are held responsible, and because they do the work.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra looked from one to the other, her eyes full of indignation. She - had been impatient before, but now she was beginning to feel angry. “And - what about my work?” she asked in an unsteady voice. - </p> - <p> - Lou looked at the carpet. “Oh, now, Alexandra, you always took it pretty - easy! Of course we wanted you to. You liked to manage round, and we always - humored you. We realize you were a great deal of help to us. There's no - woman anywhere around that knows as much about business as you do, and - we've always been proud of that, and thought you were pretty smart. But, - of course, the real work always fell on us. Good advice is all right, but - it don't get the weeds out of the corn.” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the crop, and it sometimes keeps the - fields for corn to grow in,” said Alexandra dryly. “Why, Lou, I can - remember when you and Oscar wanted to sell this homestead and all the - improvements to old preacher Ericson for two thousand dollars. If I'd - consented, you'd have gone down to the river and scraped along on poor - farms for the rest of your lives. When I put in our first field of alfalfa - you both opposed me, just because I first heard about it from a young man - who had been to the University. You said I was being taken in then, and - all the neighbors said so. You know as well as I do that alfalfa has been - the salvation of this country. You all laughed at me when I said our land - here was about ready for wheat, and I had to raise three big wheat crops - before the neighbors quit putting all their land in corn. Why, I remember - you cried, Lou, when we put in the first big wheat-planting, and said - everybody was laughing at us.” - </p> - <p> - Lou turned to Oscar. “That's the woman of it; if she tells you to put in a - crop, she thinks she's put it in. It makes women conceited to meddle in - business. I shouldn't think you'd want to remind us how hard you were on - us, Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil.” - </p> - <p> - “Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. Conditions were hard. Maybe I - would never have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly didn't choose to - be the kind of girl I was. If you take even a vine and cut it back again - and again, it grows hard, like a tree.” - </p> - <p> - Lou felt that they were wandering from the point, and that in digression - Alexandra might unnerve him. He wiped his forehead with a jerk of his - handkerchief. “We never doubted you, Alexandra. We never questioned - anything you did. You've always had your own way. But you can't expect us - to sit like stumps and see you done out of the property by any loafer who - happens along, and making yourself ridiculous into the bargain.” - </p> - <p> - Oscar rose. “Yes,” he broke in, “everybody's laughing to see you get took - in; at your age, too. Everybody knows he's nearly five years younger than - you, and is after your money. Why, Alexandra, you are forty years old!” - </p> - <p> - “All that doesn't concern anybody but Carl and me. Go to town and ask your - lawyers what you can do to restrain me from disposing of my own property. - And I advise you to do what they tell you; for the authority you can exert - by law is the only influence you will ever have over me again.” Alexandra - rose. “I think I would rather not have lived to find out what I have - to-day,” she said quietly, closing her desk. - </p> - <p> - Lou and Oscar looked at each other questioningly. There seemed to be - nothing to do but to go, and they walked out. - </p> - <p> - “You can't do business with women,” Oscar said heavily as he clambered - into the cart. “But anyhow, we've had our say, at last.” - </p> - <p> - Lou scratched his head. “Talk of that kind might come too high, you know; - but she's apt to be sensible. You hadn't ought to said that about her age, - though, Oscar. I'm afraid that hurt her feelings; and the worst thing we - can do is to make her sore at us. She'd marry him out of contrariness.” - </p> - <p> - “I only meant,” said Oscar, “that she is old enough to know better, and - she is. If she was going to marry, she ought to done it long ago, and not - go making a fool of herself now.” - </p> - <p> - Lou looked anxious, nevertheless. “Of course,” he reflected hopefully and - inconsistently, “Alexandra ain't much like other women-folks. Maybe it - won't make her sore. Maybe she'd as soon be forty as not!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XI - </h2> - <p> - Emil came home at about half-past seven o'clock that evening. Old Ivar met - him at the windmill and took his horse, and the young man went directly - into the house. He called to his sister and she answered from her bedroom, - behind the sitting-room, saying that she was lying down. - </p> - <p> - Emil went to her door. - </p> - <p> - “Can I see you for a minute?” he asked. “I want to talk to you about - something before Carl comes.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra rose quickly and came to the door. “Where is Carl?” - </p> - <p> - “Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted to talk to him, so he rode over - to Oscar's with them. Are you coming out?” Emil asked impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sit down. I'll be dressed in a moment.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra closed her door, and Emil sank down on the old slat lounge and - sat with his head in his hands. When his sister came out, he looked up, - not knowing whether the interval had been short or long, and he was - surprised to see that the room had grown quite dark. That was just as - well; it would be easier to talk if he were not under the gaze of those - clear, deliberate eyes, that saw so far in some directions and were so - blind in others. Alexandra, too, was glad of the dusk. Her face was - swollen from crying. - </p> - <p> - Emil started up and then sat down again. “Alexandra,” he said slowly, in - his deep young baritone, “I don't want to go away to law school this fall. - Let me put it off another year. I want to take a year off and look around. - It's awfully easy to rush into a profession you don't really like, and - awfully hard to get out of it. Linstrum and I have been talking about - that.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well, Emil. Only don't go off looking for land.” She came up and put - her hand on his shoulder. “I've been wishing you could stay with me this - winter.” - </p> - <p> - “That's just what I don't want to do, Alexandra. I'm restless. I want to - go to a new place. I want to go down to the City of Mexico to join one of - the University fellows who's at the head of an electrical plant. He wrote - me he could give me a little job, enough to pay my way, and I could look - around and see what I want to do. I want to go as soon as harvest is over. - I guess Lou and Oscar will be sore about it.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose they will.” Alexandra sat down on the lounge beside him. “They - are very angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. They will not come - here again.” - </p> - <p> - Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he did not notice the sadness of - her tone. He was thinking about the reckless life he meant to live in - Mexico. - </p> - <p> - “What about?” he asked absently. - </p> - <p> - “About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am going to marry him, and that - some of my property will get away from them.” - </p> - <p> - Emil shrugged his shoulders. “What nonsense!” he murmured. “Just like - them.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra drew back. “Why nonsense, Emil?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, you've never thought of such a thing, have you? They always have to - have something to fuss about.” - </p> - <p> - “Emil,” said his sister slowly, “you ought not to take things for granted. - Do you agree with them that I have no right to change my way of living?” - </p> - <p> - Emil looked at the outline of his sister's head in the dim light. They - were sitting close together and he somehow felt that she could hear his - thoughts. He was silent for a moment, and then said in an embarrassed - tone, “Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do whatever you want to. I'll - always back you.” - </p> - <p> - “But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to you if I married Carl?” - </p> - <p> - Emil fidgeted. The issue seemed to him too far-fetched to warrant - discussion. “Why, no. I should be surprised if you wanted to. I can't see - exactly why. But that's none of my business. You ought to do as you - please. Certainly you ought not to pay any attention to what the boys - say.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra sighed. “I had hoped you might understand, a little, why I do - want to. But I suppose that's too much to expect. I've had a pretty lonely - life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is the only friend I have ever had.” - </p> - <p> - Emil was awake now; a name in her last sentence roused him. He put out his - hand and took his sister's awkwardly. “You ought to do just as you wish, - and I think Carl's a fine fellow. He and I would always get on. I don't - believe any of the things the boys say about him, honest I don't. They are - suspicious of him because he's intelligent. You know their way. They've - been sore at me ever since you let me go away to college. They're always - trying to catch me up. If I were you, I wouldn't pay any attention to - them. There's nothing to get upset about. Carl's a sensible fellow. He - won't mind them.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know. If they talk to him the way they did to me, I think he'll - go away.” - </p> - <p> - Emil grew more and more uneasy. “Think so? Well, Marie said it would serve - us all right if you walked off with him.” - </p> - <p> - “Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would.” Alexandra's voice broke. - </p> - <p> - Emil began unlacing his leggings. “Why don't you talk to her about it? - There's Carl, I hear his horse. I guess I'll go upstairs and get my boots - off. No, I don't want any supper. We had supper at five o'clock, at the - fair.” - </p> - <p> - Emil was glad to escape and get to his own room. He was a little ashamed - for his sister, though he had tried not to show it. He felt that there was - something indecorous in her proposal, and she did seem to him somewhat - ridiculous. There was trouble enough in the world, he reflected, as he - threw himself upon his bed, without people who were forty years old - imagining they wanted to get married. In the darkness and silence Emil was - not likely to think long about Alexandra. Every image slipped away but - one. He had seen Marie in the crowd that afternoon. She sold candy at the - fair. WHY had she ever run away with Frank Shabata, and how could she go - on laughing and working and taking an interest in things? Why did she like - so many people, and why had she seemed pleased when all the French and - Bohemian boys, and the priest himself, crowded round her candy stand? Why - did she care about any one but him? Why could he never, never find the - thing he looked for in her playful, affectionate eyes? - </p> - <p> - Then he fell to imagining that he looked once more and found it there, and - what it would be like if she loved him,—she who, as Alexandra said, - could give her whole heart. In that dream he could lie for hours, as if in - a trance. His spirit went out of his body and crossed the fields to Marie - Shabata. - </p> - <p> - At the University dances the girls had often looked wonderingly at the - tall young Swede with the fine head, leaning against the wall and - frowning, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling or the floor. All - the girls were a little afraid of him. He was distinguished-looking, and - not the jollying kind. They felt that he was too intense and preoccupied. - There was something queer about him. Emil's fraternity rather prided - itself upon its dances, and sometimes he did his duty and danced every - dance. But whether he was on the floor or brooding in a corner, he was - always thinking about Marie Shabata. For two years the storm had been - gathering in him. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XII - </h2> - <p> - Carl came into the sitting-room while Alexandra was lighting the lamp. She - looked up at him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp shoulders stooped as - if he were very tired, his face was pale, and there were bluish shadows - under his dark eyes. His anger had burned itself out and left him sick and - disgusted. - </p> - <p> - “You have seen Lou and Oscar?” Alexandra asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” His eyes avoided hers. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra took a deep breath. “And now you are going away. I thought so.” - </p> - <p> - Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed the dark lock back from his - forehead with his white, nervous hand. “What a hopeless position you are - in, Alexandra!” he exclaimed feverishly. “It is your fate to be always - surrounded by little men. And I am no better than the rest. I am too - little to face the criticism of even such men as Lou and Oscar. Yes, I am - going away; to-morrow. I cannot even ask you to give me a promise until I - have something to offer you. I thought, perhaps, I could do that; but I - find I can't.” - </p> - <p> - “What good comes of offering people things they don't need?” Alexandra - asked sadly. “I don't need money. But I have needed you for a great many - years. I wonder why I have been permitted to prosper, if it is only to - take my friends away from me.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't deceive myself,” Carl said frankly. “I know that I am going away - on my own account. I must make the usual effort. I must have something to - show for myself. To take what you would give me, I should have to be - either a very large man or a very small one, and I am only in the middle - class.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra sighed. “I have a feeling that if you go away, you will not come - back. Something will happen to one of us, or to both. People have to - snatch at happiness when they can, in this world. It is always easier to - lose than to find. What I have is yours, if you care enough about me to - take it.” - </p> - <p> - Carl rose and looked up at the picture of John Bergson. “But I can't, my - dear, I can't! I will go North at once. Instead of idling about in - California all winter, I shall be getting my bearings up there. I won't - waste another week. Be patient with me, Alexandra. Give me a year!” - </p> - <p> - “As you will,” said Alexandra wearily. “All at once, in a single day, I - lose everything; and I do not know why. Emil, too, is going away.” Carl - was still studying John Bergson's face and Alexandra's eyes followed his. - “Yes,” she said, “if he could have seen all that would come of the task he - gave me, he would have been sorry. I hope he does not see me now. I hope - that he is among the old people of his blood and country, and that tidings - do not reach him from the New World.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PART III. Winter Memories - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I - </h2> - <p> - Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season in which Nature - recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between the fruitfulness of - autumn and the passion of spring. The birds have gone. The teeming life - that goes on down in the long grass is exterminated. The prairie-dog keeps - his hole. The rabbits run shivering from one frozen garden patch to - another and are hard put to it to find frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At - night the coyotes roam the wintry waste, howling for food. The variegated - fields are all one color now; the pastures, the stubble, the roads, the - sky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcely - perceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they have taken on. - The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walk in the roads - or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country, and the spirit is - oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One could easily believe that in - that dead landscape the germs of life and fruitfulness were extinct - forever. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra has settled back into her old routine. There are weekly letters - from Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl went away. To avoid - awkward encounters in the presence of curious spectators, she has stopped - going to the Norwegian Church and drives up to the Reform Church at - Hanover, or goes with Marie Shabata to the Catholic Church, locally known - as “the French Church.” She has not told Marie about Carl, or her - differences with her brothers. She was never very communicative about her - own affairs, and when she came to the point, an instinct told her that - about such things she and Marie would not understand one another. - </p> - <p> - Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family misunderstandings might deprive - her of her yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day of December - Alexandra telephoned Annie that to-morrow she would send Ivar over for her - mother, and the next day the old lady arrived with her bundles. For twelve - years Mrs. Lee had always entered Alexandra's sitting-room with the same - exclamation, “Now we be yust-a like old times!” She enjoyed the liberty - Alexandra gave her, and hearing her own language about her all day long. - Here she could wear her nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, - listen to Ivar reading the Bible, and here she could run about among the - stables in a pair of Emil's old boots. Though she was bent almost double, - she was as spry as a gopher. Her face was as brown as if it had been - varnished, and as full of wrinkles as a washerwoman's hands. She had three - jolly old teeth left in the front of her mouth, and when she grinned she - looked very knowing, as if when you found out how to take it, life wasn't - half bad. While she and Alexandra patched and pieced and quilted, she - talked incessantly about stories she read in a Swedish family paper, - telling the plots in great detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in - Gottland when she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot which were the printed - stories and which were the real stories, it all seemed so far away. She - loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, before she went - to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. “It sends good dreams,” - she would say with a twinkle in her eye. - </p> - <p> - When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for a week, Marie Shabata telephoned - one morning to say that Frank had gone to town for the day, and she would - like them to come over for coffee in the afternoon. Mrs. Lee hurried to - wash out and iron her new cross-stitched apron, which she had finished - only the night before; a checked gingham apron worked with a design ten - inches broad across the bottom; a hunting scene, with fir trees and a stag - and dogs and huntsmen. Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and - refused a second helping of apple dumplings. “I ta-ank I save up,” she - said with a giggle. - </p> - <p> - At two o'clock in the afternoon Alexandra's cart drove up to the Shabatas' - gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee's red shawl come bobbing up the path. She ran - to the door and pulled the old woman into the house with a hug, helping - her to take off her wraps while Alexandra blanketed the horse outside. - Mrs. Lee had put on her best black satine dress—she abominated - woolen stuffs, even in winter—and a crocheted collar, fastened with - a big pale gold pin, containing faded daguerreotypes of her father and - mother. She had not worn her apron for fear of rumpling it, and now she - shook it out and tied it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie drew - back and threw up her hands, exclaiming, “Oh, what a beauty! I've never - seen this one before, have I, Mrs. Lee?” - </p> - <p> - The old woman giggled and ducked her head. “No, yust las' night I ma-ake. - See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My sister send from - Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis.” - </p> - <p> - Marie ran to the door again. “Come in, Alexandra. I have been looking at - Mrs. Lee's apron. Do stop on your way home and show it to Mrs. Hiller. - She's crazy about cross-stitch.” - </p> - <p> - While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, Mrs. Lee went out to the kitchen - and settled herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove, looking with - great interest at the table, set for three, with a white cloth, and a pot - of pink geraniums in the middle. “My, a-an't you gotta fine plants; such-a - much flower. How you keep from freeze?” - </p> - <p> - She pointed to the window-shelves, full of blooming fuchsias and - geraniums. - </p> - <p> - “I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it's very cold I put them - all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights I only put - newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing, but when they - don't bloom he says, 'What's the matter with the darned things?'—What - do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?” - </p> - <p> - “He got to Dawson before the river froze, and now I suppose I won't hear - any more until spring. Before he left California he sent me a box of - orange flowers, but they didn't keep very well. I have brought a bunch of - Emil's letters for you.” Alexandra came out from the sitting-room and - pinched Marie's cheek playfully. “You don't look as if the weather ever - froze you up. Never have colds, do you? That's a good girl. She had dark - red cheeks like this when she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She looked like - some queer foreign kind of a doll. I've never forgot the first time I saw - you in Mieklejohn's store, Marie, the time father was lying sick. Carl and - I were talking about that before he went away.” - </p> - <p> - “I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. When are you going to send - Emil's Christmas box?” - </p> - <p> - “It ought to have gone before this. I'll have to send it by mail now, to - get it there in time.” - </p> - <p> - Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbasket. “I knit this - for him. It's a good color, don't you think? Will you please put it in - with your things and tell him it's from me, to wear when he goes - serenading.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra laughed. “I don't believe he goes serenading much. He says in - one letter that the Mexican ladies are said to be very beautiful, but that - don't seem to me very warm praise.” - </p> - <p> - Marie tossed her head. “Emil can't fool me. If he's bought a guitar, he - goes serenading. Who wouldn't, with all those Spanish girls dropping - flowers down from their windows! I'd sing to them every night, wouldn't - you, Mrs. Lee?” - </p> - <p> - The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent down and opened the - oven door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the tidy kitchen. “My, - somet'ing smell good!” She turned to Alexandra with a wink, her three - yellow teeth making a brave show, “I ta-ank dat stop my yaw from ache no - more!” she said contentedly. - </p> - <p> - Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, stuffed with stewed - apricots, and began to dust them over with powdered sugar. “I hope you'll - like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians always like them with - their coffee. But if you don't, I have a coffee-cake with nuts and poppy - seeds. Alexandra, will you get the cream jug? I put it in the window to - keep cool.” - </p> - <p> - “The Bohemians,” said Alexandra, as they drew up to the table, “certainly - know how to make more kinds of bread than any other people in the world. - Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the church supper that she could make - seven kinds of fancy bread, but Marie could make a dozen.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumb and - forefinger and weighed it critically. “Yust like-a fedders,” she - pronounced with satisfaction. “My, a-an't dis nice!” she exclaimed as she - stirred her coffee. “I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly now, too, I ta-ank.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell to talking of - their own affairs. “I was afraid you had a cold when I talked to you over - the telephone the other night, Marie. What was the matter, had you been - crying?” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe I had,” Marie smiled guiltily. “Frank was out late that night. - Don't you get lonely sometimes in the winter, when everybody has gone - away?” - </p> - <p> - “I thought it was something like that. If I hadn't had company, I'd have - run over to see for myself. If you get down-hearted, what will become of - the rest of us?” Alexandra asked. - </p> - <p> - “I don't, very often. There's Mrs. Lee without any coffee!” - </p> - <p> - Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marie and - Alexandra went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the old lady - wanted to borrow. “Better put on your coat, Alexandra. It's cold up there, - and I have no idea where those patterns are. I may have to look through my - old trunks.” Marie caught up a shawl and opened the stair door, running up - the steps ahead of her guest. “While I go through the bureau drawers, you - might look in those hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over where Frank's - clothes hang. There are a lot of odds and ends in them.” - </p> - <p> - She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandra went - into the clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding a slender - elastic yellow stick in her hand. - </p> - <p> - “What in the world is this, Marie? You don't mean to tell me Frank ever - carried such a thing?” - </p> - <p> - Marie blinked at it with astonishment and sat down on the floor. “Where - did you find it? I didn't know he had kept it. I haven't seen it for - years.” - </p> - <p> - “It really is a cane, then?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. One he brought from the old country. He used to carry it when I - first knew him. Isn't it foolish? Poor Frank!” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. “He must have - looked funny!” - </p> - <p> - Marie was thoughtful. “No, he didn't, really. It didn't seem out of place. - He used to be awfully gay like that when he was a young man. I guess - people always get what's hardest for them, Alexandra.” Marie gathered the - shawl closer about her and still looked hard at the cane. “Frank would be - all right in the right place,” she said reflectively. “He ought to have a - different kind of wife, for one thing. Do you know, Alexandra, I could - pick out exactly the right sort of woman for Frank—now. The trouble - is you almost have to marry a man before you can find out the sort of wife - he needs; and usually it's exactly the sort you are not. Then what are you - going to do about it?” she asked candidly. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra confessed she didn't know. “However,” she added, “it seems to me - that you get along with Frank about as well as any woman I've ever seen or - heard of could.” - </p> - <p> - Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and blowing her warm breath softly - out into the frosty air. “No; I was spoiled at home. I like my own way, - and I have a quick tongue. When Frank brags, I say sharp things, and he - never forgets. He goes over and over it in his mind; I can feel him. Then - I'm too giddy. Frank's wife ought to be timid, and she ought not to care - about another living thing in the world but just Frank! I didn't, when I - married him, but I suppose I was too young to stay like that.” Marie - sighed. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so frankly about her husband before, - and she felt that it was wiser not to encourage her. No good, she - reasoned, ever came from talking about such things, and while Marie was - thinking aloud, Alexandra had been steadily searching the hat-boxes. - “Aren't these the patterns, Maria?” - </p> - <p> - Maria sprang up from the floor. “Sure enough, we were looking for - patterns, weren't we? I'd forgot about everything but Frank's other wife. - I'll put that away.” - </p> - <p> - She poked the cane behind Frank's Sunday clothes, and though she laughed, - Alexandra saw there were tears in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall, and - Marie's visitors thought they must be getting home. She went out to the - cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs. Lee while Alexandra - took the blanket off her horse. As they drove away, Marie turned and went - slowly back to the house. She took up the package of letters Alexandra had - brought, but she did not read them. She turned them over and looked at the - foreign stamps, and then sat watching the flying snow while the dusk - deepened in the kitchen and the stove sent out a red glow. - </p> - <p> - Marie knew perfectly well that Emil's letters were written more for her - than for Alexandra. They were not the sort of letters that a young man - writes to his sister. They were both more personal and more painstaking; - full of descriptions of the gay life in the old Mexican capital in the - days when the strong hand of Porfirio Diaz was still strong. He told about - bull-fights and cock-fights, churches and FIESTAS, the flower-markets and - the fountains, the music and dancing, the people of all nations he met in - the Italian restaurants on San Francisco Street. In short, they were the - kind of letters a young man writes to a woman when he wishes himself and - his life to seem interesting to her, when he wishes to enlist her - imagination in his behalf. - </p> - <p> - Marie, when she was alone or when she sat sewing in the evening, often - thought about what it must be like down there where Emil was; where there - were flowers and street bands everywhere, and carriages rattling up and - down, and where there was a little blind boot-black in front of the - cathedral who could play any tune you asked for by dropping the lids of - blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When everything is done and over for - one at twenty-three, it is pleasant to let the mind wander forth and - follow a young adventurer who has life before him. “And if it had not been - for me,” she thought, “Frank might still be free like that, and having a - good time making people admire him. Poor Frank, getting married wasn't - very good for him either. I'm afraid I do set people against him, as he - says. I seem, somehow, to give him away all the time. Perhaps he would try - to be agreeable to people again, if I were not around. It seems as if I - always make him just as bad as he can be.” - </p> - <p> - Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon as the last - satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After that day the younger - woman seemed to shrink more and more into herself. When she was with - Alexandra she was not spontaneous and frank as she used to be. She seemed - to be brooding over something, and holding something back. The weather had - a good deal to do with their seeing less of each other than usual. There - had not been such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path across the - fields was drifted deep from Christmas until March. When the two neighbors - went to see each other, they had to go round by the wagon-road, which was - twice as far. They telephoned each other almost every night, though in - January there was a stretch of three weeks when the wires were down, and - when the postman did not come at all. - </p> - <p> - Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. Hiller, who was - crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lame shoemaker, to take - care of her; and she went to the French Church, whatever the weather. She - was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed for herself and for Frank, and for - Emil, among the temptations of that gay, corrupt old city. She found more - comfort in the Church that winter than ever before. It seemed to come - closer to her, and to fill an emptiness that ached in her heart. She tried - to be patient with her husband. He and his hired man usually played - California Jack in the evening. Marie sat sewing or crocheting and tried - to take a friendly interest in the game, but she was always thinking about - the wide fields outside, where the snow was drifting over the fences; and - about the orchard, where the snow was falling and packing, crust over - crust. When she went out into the dark kitchen to fix her plants for the - night, she used to stand by the window and look out at the white fields, - or watch the currents of snow whirling over the orchard. She seemed to - feel the weight of all the snow that lay down there. The branches had - become so hard that they wounded your hand if you but tried to break a - twig. And yet, down under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, - the secret of life was still safe, warm as the blood in one's heart; and - the spring would come again! Oh, it would come again! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II - </h2> - <p> - If Alexandra had had much imagination she might have guessed what was - going on in Marie's mind, and she would have seen long before what was - going on in Emil's. But that, as Emil himself had more than once - reflected, was Alexandra's blind side, and her life had not been of the - kind to sharpen her vision. Her training had all been toward the end of - making her proficient in what she had undertaken to do. Her personal life, - her own realization of herself, was almost a subconscious existence; like - an underground river that came to the surface only here and there, at - intervals months apart, and then sank again to flow on under her own - fields. Nevertheless, the underground stream was there, and it was because - she had so much personality to put into her enterprises and succeeded in - putting it into them so completely, that her affairs prospered better than - those of her neighbors. - </p> - <p> - There were certain days in her life, outwardly uneventful, which Alexandra - remembered as peculiarly happy; days when she was close to the flat, - fallow world about her, and felt, as it were, in her own body the joyous - germination in the soil. There were days, too, which she and Emil had - spent together, upon which she loved to look back. There had been such a - day when they were down on the river in the dry year, looking over the - land. They had made an early start one morning and had driven a long way - before noon. When Emil said he was hungry, they drew back from the road, - gave Brigham his oats among the bushes, and climbed up to the top of a - grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the shade of some little elm trees. - The river was clear there, and shallow, since there had been no rain, and - it ran in ripples over the sparkling sand. Under the overhanging willows - of the opposite bank there was an inlet where the water was deeper and - flowed so slowly that it seemed to sleep in the sun. In this little bay a - single wild duck was swimming and diving and preening her feathers, - disporting herself very happily in the flickering light and shade. They - sat for a long time, watching the solitary bird take its pleasure. No - living thing had ever seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild duck. - Emil must have felt about it as she did, for afterward, when they were at - home, he used sometimes to say, “Sister, you know our duck down there—” - Alexandra remembered that day as one of the happiest in her life. Years - afterward she thought of the duck as still there, swimming and diving all - by herself in the sunlight, a kind of enchanted bird that did not know age - or change. - </p> - <p> - Most of Alexandra's happy memories were as impersonal as this one; yet to - her they were very personal. Her mind was a white book, with clear writing - about weather and beasts and growing things. Not many people would have - cared to read it; only a happy few. She had never been in love, she had - never indulged in sentimental reveries. Even as a girl she had looked upon - men as work-fellows. She had grown up in serious times. - </p> - <p> - There was one fancy indeed, which persisted through her girlhood. It most - often came to her on Sunday mornings, the one day in the week when she lay - late abed listening to the familiar morning sounds; the windmill singing - in the brisk breeze, Emil whistling as he blacked his boots down by the - kitchen door. Sometimes, as she lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes - closed, she used to have an illusion of being lifted up bodily and carried - lightly by some one very strong. It was a man, certainly, who carried her, - but he was like no man she knew; he was much larger and stronger and - swifter, and he carried her as easily as if she were a sheaf of wheat. She - never saw him, but, with eyes closed, she could feel that he was yellow - like the sunlight, and there was the smell of ripe cornfields about him. - She could feel him approach, bend over her and lift her, and then she - could feel herself being carried swiftly off across the fields. After such - a reverie she would rise hastily, angry with herself, and go down to the - bath-house that was partitioned off the kitchen shed. There she would - stand in a tin tub and prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by - pouring buckets of cold well-water over her gleaming white body which no - man on the Divide could have carried very far. - </p> - <p> - As she grew older, this fancy more often came to her when she was tired - than when she was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had been in the - open all day, overseeing the branding of the cattle or the loading of the - pigs, she would come in chilled, take a concoction of spices and warm - home-made wine, and go to bed with her body actually aching with fatigue. - Then, just before she went to sleep, she had the old sensation of being - lifted and carried by a strong being who took from her all her bodily - weariness. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PART4" id="link2H_PART4"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PART IV. The White Mulberry Tree - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I - </h2> - <p> - The French Church, properly the Church of Sainte-Agnes, stood upon a hill. - The high, narrow, red-brick building, with its tall steeple and steep - roof, could be seen for miles across the wheatfields, though the little - town of Sainte-Agnes was completely hidden away at the foot of the hill. - The church looked powerful and triumphant there on its eminence, so high - above the rest of the landscape, with miles of warm color lying at its - feet, and by its position and setting it reminded one of some of the - churches built long ago in the wheat-lands of middle France. - </p> - <p> - Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson was driving along one of the - many roads that led through the rich French farming country to the big - church. The sunlight was shining directly in her face, and there was a - blaze of light all about the red church on the hill. Beside Alexandra - lounged a strikingly exotic figure in a tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, and - a black velvet jacket sewn with silver buttons. Emil had returned only the - night before, and his sister was so proud of him that she decided at once - to take him up to the church supper, and to make him wear the Mexican - costume he had brought home in his trunk. “All the girls who have stands - are going to wear fancy costumes,” she argued, “and some of the boys. - Marie is going to tell fortunes, and she sent to Omaha for a Bohemian - dress her father brought back from a visit to the old country. If you wear - those clothes, they will all be pleased. And you must take your guitar. - Everybody ought to do what they can to help along, and we have never done - much. We are not a talented family.” - </p> - <p> - The supper was to be at six o'clock, in the basement of the church, and - afterward there would be a fair, with charades and an auction. Alexandra - had set out from home early, leaving the house to Signa and Nelse Jensen, - who were to be married next week. Signa had shyly asked to have the - wedding put off until Emil came home. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. As they drove through the - rolling French country toward the westering sun and the stalwart church, - she was thinking of that time long ago when she and Emil drove back from - the river valley to the still unconquered Divide. Yes, she told herself, - it had been worth while; both Emil and the country had become what she had - hoped. Out of her father's children there was one who was fit to cope with - the world, who had not been tied to the plow, and who had a personality - apart from the soil. And that, she reflected, was what she had worked for. - She felt well satisfied with her life. - </p> - <p> - When they reached the church, a score of teams were hitched in front of - the basement doors that opened from the hillside upon the sanded terrace, - where the boys wrestled and had jumping-matches. Amedee Chevalier, a proud - father of one week, rushed out and embraced Emil. Amedee was an only son,—hence - he was a very rich young man,—but he meant to have twenty children - himself, like his uncle Xavier. “Oh, Emil,” he cried, hugging his old - friend rapturously, “why ain't you been up to see my boy? You come - to-morrow, sure? Emil, you wanna get a boy right off! It's the greatest - thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick at all. Everything just fine. That - boy he come into this world laughin', and he been laughin' ever since. You - come an' see!” He pounded Emil's ribs to emphasize each announcement. - </p> - <p> - Emil caught his arms. “Stop, Amedee. You're knocking the wind out of me. I - brought him cups and spoons and blankets and moccasins enough for an - orphan asylum. I'm awful glad it's a boy, sure enough!” - </p> - <p> - The young men crowded round Emil to admire his costume and to tell him in - a breath everything that had happened since he went away. Emil had more - friends up here in the French country than down on Norway Creek. The - French and Bohemian boys were spirited and jolly, liked variety, and were - as much predisposed to favor anything new as the Scandinavian boys were to - reject it. The Norwegian and Swedish lads were much more self-centred, apt - to be egotistical and jealous. They were cautious and reserved with Emil - because he had been away to college, and were prepared to take him down if - he should try to put on airs with them. The French boys liked a bit of - swagger, and they were always delighted to hear about anything new: new - clothes, new games, new songs, new dances. Now they carried Emil off to - show him the club room they had just fitted up over the post-office, down - in the village. They ran down the hill in a drove, all laughing and - chattering at once, some in French, some in English. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed basement where the women were - setting the tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building a little tent - of shawls where she was to tell fortunes. She sprang down and ran toward - Alexandra, stopping short and looking at her in disappointment. Alexandra - nodded to her encouragingly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have taken him off to show him - something. You won't know him. He is a man now, sure enough. I have no boy - left. He smokes terrible-smelling Mexican cigarettes and talks Spanish. - How pretty you look, child. Where did you get those beautiful earrings?” - </p> - <p> - “They belonged to father's mother. He always promised them to me. He sent - them with the dress and said I could keep them.” - </p> - <p> - Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven cloth, a white bodice and - kirtle, a yellow silk turban wound low over her brown curls, and long - coral pendants in her ears. Her ears had been pierced against a piece of - cork by her great-aunt when she was seven years old. In those germless - days she had worn bits of broom-straw, plucked from the common - sweeping-broom, in the lobes until the holes were healed and ready for - little gold rings. - </p> - <p> - When Emil came back from the village, he lingered outside on the terrace - with the boys. Marie could hear him talking and strumming on his guitar - while Raoul Marcel sang falsetto. She was vexed with him for staying out - there. It made her very nervous to hear him and not to see him; for, - certainly, she told herself, she was not going out to look for him. When - the supper bell rang and the boys came trooping in to get seats at the - first table, she forgot all about her annoyance and ran to greet the - tallest of the crowd, in his conspicuous attire. She didn't mind showing - her embarrassment at all. She blushed and laughed excitedly as she gave - Emil her hand, and looked delightedly at the black velvet coat that - brought out his fair skin and fine blond head. Marie was incapable of - being lukewarm about anything that pleased her. She simply did not know - how to give a half-hearted response. When she was delighted, she was as - likely as not to stand on her tip-toes and clap her hands. If people - laughed at her, she laughed with them. - </p> - <p> - “Do the men wear clothes like that every day, in the street?” She caught - Emil by his sleeve and turned him about. “Oh, I wish I lived where people - wore things like that! Are the buttons real silver? Put on the hat, - please. What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear it? Why don't you tell us - about the bull-fights?” - </p> - <p> - She wanted to wring all his experiences from him at once, without waiting - a moment. Emil smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at her with his - old, brooding gaze, while the French girls fluttered about him in their - white dresses and ribbons, and Alexandra watched the scene with pride. - Several of the French girls, Marie knew, were hoping that Emil would take - them to supper, and she was relieved when he took only his sister. Marie - caught Frank's arm and dragged him to the same table, managing to get - seats opposite the Bergsons, so that she could hear what they were talking - about. Alexandra made Emil tell Mrs. Xavier Chevalier, the mother of the - twenty, about how he had seen a famous matador killed in the bull-ring. - Marie listened to every word, only taking her eyes from Emil to watch - Frank's plate and keep it filled. When Emil finished his account,—bloody - enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier and to make her feel thankful that she was - not a matador,—Marie broke out with a volley of questions. How did - the women dress when they went to bull-fights? Did they wear mantillas? - Did they never wear hats? - </p> - <p> - After supper the young people played charades for the amusement of their - elders, who sat gossiping between their guesses. All the shops in - Sainte-Agnes were closed at eight o'clock that night, so that the - merchants and their clerks could attend the fair. The auction was the - liveliest part of the entertainment, for the French boys always lost their - heads when they began to bid, satisfied that their extravagance was in a - good cause. After all the pincushions and sofa pillows and embroidered - slippers were sold, Emil precipitated a panic by taking out one of his - turquoise shirt studs, which every one had been admiring, and handing it - to the auctioneer. All the French girls clamored for it, and their - sweethearts bid against each other recklessly. Marie wanted it, too, and - she kept making signals to Frank, which he took a sour pleasure in - disregarding. He didn't see the use of making a fuss over a fellow just - because he was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise went to Malvina - Sauvage, the French banker's daughter, Marie shrugged her shoulders and - betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where she began to shuffle - her cards by the light of a tallow candle, calling out, “Fortunes, - fortunes!” - </p> - <p> - The young priest, Father Duchesne, went first to have his fortune read. - Marie took his long white hand, looked at it, and then began to run off - her cards. “I see a long journey across water for you, Father. You will go - to a town all cut up by water; built on islands, it seems to be, with - rivers and green fields all about. And you will visit an old lady with a - white cap and gold hoops in her ears, and you will be very happy there.” - </p> - <p> - “Mais, oui,” said the priest, with a melancholy smile. “C'est L'Isle-Adam, - chez ma mere. Vous etes tres savante, ma fille.” He patted her yellow - turban, calling, “Venez donc, mes garcons! Il y a ici une veritable - clairvoyante!” - </p> - <p> - Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulging in a light irony that - amused the crowd. She told old Brunot, the miser, that he would lose all - his money, marry a girl of sixteen, and live happily on a crust. Sholte, - the fat Russian boy, who lived for his stomach, was to be disappointed in - love, grow thin, and shoot himself from despondency. Amedee was to have - twenty children, and nineteen of them were to be girls. Amedee slapped - Frank on the back and asked him why he didn't see what the fortune-teller - would promise him. But Frank shook off his friendly hand and grunted, “She - tell my fortune long ago; bad enough!” Then he withdrew to a corner and - sat glowering at his wife. - </p> - <p> - Frank's case was all the more painful because he had no one in particular - to fix his jealousy upon. Sometimes he could have thanked the man who - would bring him evidence against his wife. He had discharged a good - farm-boy, Jan Smirka, because he thought Marie was fond of him; but she - had not seemed to miss Jan when he was gone, and she had been just as kind - to the next boy. The farm-hands would always do anything for Marie; Frank - couldn't find one so surly that he would not make an effort to please her. - At the bottom of his heart Frank knew well enough that if he could once - give up his grudge, his wife would come back to him. But he could never in - the world do that. The grudge was fundamental. Perhaps he could not have - given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he got more satisfaction out of - feeling himself abused than he would have got out of being loved. If he - could once have made Marie thoroughly unhappy, he might have relented and - raised her from the dust. But she had never humbled herself. In the first - days of their love she had been his slave; she had admired him - abandonedly. But the moment he began to bully her and to be unjust, she - began to draw away; at first in tearful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken - disgust. The distance between them had widened and hardened. It no longer - contracted and brought them suddenly together. The spark of her life went - somewhere else, and he was always watching to surprise it. He knew that - somewhere she must get a feeling to live upon, for she was not a woman who - could live without loving. He wanted to prove to himself the wrong he - felt. What did she hide in her heart? Where did it go? Even Frank had his - churlish delicacies; he never reminded her of how much she had once loved - him. For that Marie was grateful to him. - </p> - <p> - While Marie was chattering to the French boys, Amedee called Emil to the - back of the room and whispered to him that they were going to play a joke - on the girls. At eleven o'clock, Amedee was to go up to the switchboard in - the vestibule and turn off the electric lights, and every boy would have a - chance to kiss his sweetheart before Father Duchesne could find his way up - the stairs to turn the current on again. The only difficulty was the - candle in Marie's tent; perhaps, as Emil had no sweetheart, he would - oblige the boys by blowing out the candle. Emil said he would undertake to - do that. - </p> - <p> - At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to Marie's booth, and the French - boys dispersed to find their girls. He leaned over the card-table and gave - himself up to looking at her. “Do you think you could tell my fortune?” he - murmured. It was the first word he had had alone with her for almost a - year. “My luck hasn't changed any. It's just the same.” - </p> - <p> - Marie had often wondered whether there was anyone else who could look his - thoughts to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met his steady, powerful - eyes, it was impossible not to feel the sweetness of the dream he was - dreaming; it reached her before she could shut it out, and hid itself in - her heart. She began to shuffle her cards furiously. “I'm angry with you, - Emil,” she broke out with petulance. “Why did you give them that lovely - blue stone to sell? You might have known Frank wouldn't buy it for me, and - I wanted it awfully!” - </p> - <p> - Emil laughed shortly. “People who want such little things surely ought to - have them,” he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the pocket of his - velvet trousers and brought out a handful of uncut turquoises, as big as - marbles. Leaning over the table he dropped them into her lap. “There, will - those do? Be careful, don't let any one see them. Now, I suppose you want - me to go away and let you play with them?” - </p> - <p> - Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue color of the stones. “Oh, - Emil! Is everything down there beautiful like these? How could you ever - come away?” - </p> - <p> - At that instant Amedee laid hands on the switchboard. There was a shiver - and a giggle, and every one looked toward the red blur that Marie's candle - made in the dark. Immediately that, too, was gone. Little shrieks and - currents of soft laughter ran up and down the dark hall. Marie started up,—directly - into Emil's arms. In the same instant she felt his lips. The veil that had - hung uncertainly between them for so long was dissolved. Before she knew - what she was doing, she had committed herself to that kiss that was at - once a boy's and a man's, as timid as it was tender; so like Emil and so - unlike any one else in the world. Not until it was over did she realize - what it meant. And Emil, who had so often imagined the shock of this first - kiss, was surprised at its gentleness and naturalness. It was like a sigh - which they had breathed together; almost sorrowful, as if each were afraid - of wakening something in the other. - </p> - <p> - When the lights came on again, everybody was laughing and shouting, and - all the French girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only Marie, in her - little tent of shawls, was pale and quiet. Under her yellow turban the red - coral pendants swung against white cheeks. Frank was still staring at her, - but he seemed to see nothing. Years ago, he himself had had the power to - take the blood from her cheeks like that. Perhaps he did not remember—perhaps - he had never noticed! Emil was already at the other end of the hall, - walking about with the shoulder-motion he had acquired among the Mexicans, - studying the floor with his intent, deep-set eyes. Marie began to take - down and fold her shawls. She did not glance up again. The young people - drifted to the other end of the hall where the guitar was sounding. In a - moment she heard Emil and Raoul singing:— - </p> - <p> - “Across the Rio Grand-e There lies a sunny land-e, My bright-eyed Mexico!” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra Bergson came up to the card booth. “Let me help you, Marie. You - look tired.” - </p> - <p> - She placed her hand on Marie's arm and felt her shiver. Marie stiffened - under that kind, calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed and hurt. - </p> - <p> - There was about Alexandra something of the impervious calm of the - fatalist, always disconcerting to very young people, who cannot feel that - the heart lives at all unless it is still at the mercy of storms; unless - its strings can scream to the touch of pain. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II - </h2> - <p> - Signa's wedding supper was over. The guests, and the tiresome little - Norwegian preacher who had performed the marriage ceremony, were saying - good-night. Old Ivar was hitching the horses to the wagon to take the - wedding presents and the bride and groom up to their new home, on - Alexandra's north quarter. When Ivar drove up to the gate, Emil and Marie - Shabata began to carry out the presents, and Alexandra went into her - bedroom to bid Signa good-bye and to give her a few words of good counsel. - She was surprised to find that the bride had changed her slippers for - heavy shoes and was pinning up her skirts. At that moment Nelse appeared - at the gate with the two milk cows that Alexandra had given Signa for a - wedding present. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra began to laugh. “Why, Signa, you and Nelse are to ride home. - I'll send Ivar over with the cows in the morning.” - </p> - <p> - Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When her husband called her, she - pinned her hat on resolutely. “I ta-ank I better do yust like he say,” she - murmured in confusion. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to the gate and saw the party set - off, old Ivar driving ahead in the wagon and the bride and groom following - on foot, each leading a cow. Emil burst into a laugh before they were out - of hearing. - </p> - <p> - “Those two will get on,” said Alexandra as they turned back to the house. - “They are not going to take any chances. They will feel safer with those - cows in their own stable. Marie, I am going to send for an old woman next. - As soon as I get the girls broken in, I marry them off.” - </p> - <p> - “I've no patience with Signa, marrying that grumpy fellow!” Marie - declared. “I wanted her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked for us - last winter. I think she liked him, too.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I think she did,” Alexandra assented, “but I suppose she was too - much afraid of Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think of it, most - of my girls have married men they were afraid of. I believe there is a - good deal of the cow in most Swedish girls. You high-strung Bohemian can't - understand us. We're a terribly practical people, and I guess we think a - cross man makes a good manager.” - </p> - <p> - Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to pin up a lock of hair that had - fallen on her neck. Somehow Alexandra had irritated her of late. Everybody - irritated her. She was tired of everybody. “I'm going home alone, Emil, so - you needn't get your hat,” she said as she wound her scarf quickly about - her head. “Good-night, Alexandra,” she called back in a strained voice, - running down the gravel walk. - </p> - <p> - Emil followed with long strides until he overtook her. Then she began to - walk slowly. It was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, and the - fireflies were glimmering over the wheat. - </p> - <p> - “Marie,” said Emil after they had walked for a while, “I wonder if you - know how unhappy I am?” - </p> - <p> - Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its white scarf, drooped forward a - little. - </p> - <p> - Emil kicked a clod from the path and went on:— - </p> - <p> - “I wonder whether you are really shallow-hearted, like you seem? Sometimes - I think one boy does just as well as another for you. It never seems to - make much difference whether it is me or Raoul Marcel or Jan Smirka. Are - you really like that?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I am. What do you want me to do? Sit round and cry all day? When - I've cried until I can't cry any more, then—then I must do something - else.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you sorry for me?” he persisted. - </p> - <p> - “No, I'm not. If I were big and free like you, I wouldn't let anything - make me unhappy. As old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, I wouldn't go - lovering after no woman. I'd take the first train and go off and have all - the fun there is.” - </p> - <p> - “I tried that, but it didn't do any good. Everything reminded me. The - nicer the place was, the more I wanted you.” They had come to the stile - and Emil pointed to it persuasively. “Sit down a moment, I want to ask you - something.” Marie sat down on the top step and Emil drew nearer. “Would - you tell me something that's none of my business if you thought it would - help me out? Well, then, tell me, PLEASE tell me, why you ran away with - Frank Shabata!” - </p> - <p> - Marie drew back. “Because I was in love with him,” she said firmly. - </p> - <p> - “Really?” he asked incredulously. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. I think I was the one who - suggested our running away. From the first it was more my fault than his.” - </p> - <p> - Emil turned away his face. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” Marie went on, “I've got to remember that. Frank is just the - same now as he was then, only then I would see him as I wanted him to be. - I would have my own way. And now I pay for it.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't do all the paying.” - </p> - <p> - “That's it. When one makes a mistake, there's no telling where it will - stop. But you can go away; you can leave all this behind you.” - </p> - <p> - “Not everything. I can't leave you behind. Will you go away with me, - Marie?” - </p> - <p> - Marie started up and stepped across the stile. “Emil! How wickedly you - talk! I am not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But what am I going - to do if you keep tormenting me like this!” she added plaintively. - </p> - <p> - “Marie, I won't bother you any more if you will tell me just one thing. - Stop a minute and look at me. No, nobody can see us. Everybody's asleep. - That was only a firefly. Marie, STOP and tell me!” - </p> - <p> - Emil overtook her and catching her by the shoulders shook her gently, as - if he were trying to awaken a sleepwalker. - </p> - <p> - Marie hid her face on his arm. “Don't ask me anything more. I don't know - anything except how miserable I am. And I thought it would be all right - when you came back. Oh, Emil,” she clutched his sleeve and began to cry, - “what am I to do if you don't go away? I can't go, and one of us must. - Can't you see?” - </p> - <p> - Emil stood looking down at her, holding his shoulders stiff and stiffening - the arm to which she clung. Her white dress looked gray in the darkness. - She seemed like a troubled spirit, like some shadow out of the earth, - clinging to him and entreating him to give her peace. Behind her the - fireflies were weaving in and out over the wheat. He put his hand on her - bent head. “On my honor, Marie, if you will say you love me, I will go - away.” - </p> - <p> - She lifted her face to his. “How could I help it? Didn't you know?” - </p> - <p> - Emil was the one who trembled, through all his frame. After he left Marie - at her gate, he wandered about the fields all night, till morning put out - the fireflies and the stars. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III - </h2> - <p> - One evening, a week after Signa's wedding, Emil was kneeling before a box - in the sitting-room, packing his books. From time to time he rose and - wandered about the house, picking up stray volumes and bringing them - listlessly back to his box. He was packing without enthusiasm. He was not - very sanguine about his future. Alexandra sat sewing by the table. She had - helped him pack his trunk in the afternoon. As Emil came and went by her - chair with his books, he thought to himself that it had not been so hard - to leave his sister since he first went away to school. He was going - directly to Omaha, to read law in the office of a Swedish lawyer until - October, when he would enter the law school at Ann Arbor. They had planned - that Alexandra was to come to Michigan—a long journey for her—at - Christmas time, and spend several weeks with him. Nevertheless, he felt - that this leave-taking would be more final than his earlier ones had been; - that it meant a definite break with his old home and the beginning of - something new—he did not know what. His ideas about the future would - not crystallize; the more he tried to think about it, the vaguer his - conception of it became. But one thing was clear, he told himself; it was - high time that he made good to Alexandra, and that ought to be incentive - enough to begin with. - </p> - <p> - As he went about gathering up his books he felt as if he were uprooting - things. At last he threw himself down on the old slat lounge where he had - slept when he was little, and lay looking up at the familiar cracks in the - ceiling. - </p> - <p> - “Tired, Emil?” his sister asked. - </p> - <p> - “Lazy,” he murmured, turning on his side and looking at her. He studied - Alexandra's face for a long time in the lamplight. It had never occurred - to him that his sister was a handsome woman until Marie Shabata had told - him so. Indeed, he had never thought of her as being a woman at all, only - a sister. As he studied her bent head, he looked up at the picture of John - Bergson above the lamp. “No,” he thought to himself, “she didn't get it - there. I suppose I am more like that.” - </p> - <p> - “Alexandra,” he said suddenly, “that old walnut secretary you use for a - desk was father's, wasn't it?” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra went on stitching. “Yes. It was one of the first things he - bought for the old log house. It was a great extravagance in those days. - But he wrote a great many letters back to the old country. He had many - friends there, and they wrote to him up to the time he died. No one ever - blamed him for grandfather's disgrace. I can see him now, sitting there on - Sundays, in his white shirt, writing pages and pages, so carefully. He - wrote a fine, regular hand, almost like engraving. Yours is something like - his, when you take pains.” - </p> - <p> - “Grandfather was really crooked, was he?” - </p> - <p> - “He married an unscrupulous woman, and then—then I'm afraid he was - really crooked. When we first came here father used to have dreams about - making a great fortune and going back to Sweden to pay back to the poor - sailors the money grandfather had lost.” - </p> - <p> - Emil stirred on the lounge. “I say, that would have been worth while, - wouldn't it? Father wasn't a bit like Lou or Oscar, was he? I can't - remember much about him before he got sick.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, not at all!” Alexandra dropped her sewing on her knee. “He had better - opportunities; not to make money, but to make something of himself. He was - a quiet man, but he was very intelligent. You would have been proud of - him, Emil.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra felt that he would like to know there had been a man of his kin - whom he could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed of Lou and Oscar, - because they were bigoted and self-satisfied. He never said much about - them, but she could feel his disgust. His brothers had shown their - disapproval of him ever since he first went away to school. The only thing - that would have satisfied them would have been his failure at the - University. As it was, they resented every change in his speech, in his - dress, in his point of view; though the latter they had to conjecture, for - Emil avoided talking to them about any but family matters. All his - interests they treated as affectations. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra took up her sewing again. “I can remember father when he was - quite a young man. He belonged to some kind of a musical society, a male - chorus, in Stockholm. I can remember going with mother to hear them sing. - There must have been a hundred of them, and they all wore long black coats - and white neckties. I was used to seeing father in a blue coat, a sort of - jacket, and when I recognized him on the platform, I was very proud. Do - you remember that Swedish song he taught you, about the ship boy?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. They like anything different.” - Emil paused. “Father had a hard fight here, didn't he?” he added - thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he had hope. He believed in the - land.” - </p> - <p> - “And in you, I guess,” Emil said to himself. There was another period of - silence; that warm, friendly silence, full of perfect understanding, in - which Emil and Alexandra had spent many of their happiest half-hours. - </p> - <p> - At last Emil said abruptly, “Lou and Oscar would be better off if they - were poor, wouldn't they?” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra smiled. “Maybe. But their children wouldn't. I have great hopes - of Milly.” - </p> - <p> - Emil shivered. “I don't know. Seems to me it gets worse as it goes on. The - worst of the Swedes is that they're never willing to find out how much - they don't know. It was like that at the University. Always so pleased - with themselves! There's no getting behind that conceited Swedish grin. - The Bohemians and Germans were so different.” - </p> - <p> - “Come, Emil, don't go back on your own people. Father wasn't conceited, - Uncle Otto wasn't. Even Lou and Oscar weren't when they were boys.” - </p> - <p> - Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dispute the point. He turned on - his back and lay still for a long time, his hands locked under his head, - looking up at the ceiling. Alexandra knew that he was thinking of many - things. She felt no anxiety about Emil. She had always believed in him, as - she had believed in the land. He had been more like himself since he got - back from Mexico; seemed glad to be at home, and talked to her as he used - to do. She had no doubt that his wandering fit was over, and that he would - soon be settled in life. - </p> - <p> - “Alexandra,” said Emil suddenly, “do you remember the wild duck we saw - down on the river that time?” - </p> - <p> - His sister looked up. “I often think of her. It always seems to me she's - there still, just like we saw her.” - </p> - <p> - “I know. It's queer what things one remembers and what things one - forgets.” Emil yawned and sat up. “Well, it's time to turn in.” He rose, - and going over to Alexandra stooped down and kissed her lightly on the - cheek. “Good-night, sister. I think you did pretty well by us.” - </p> - <p> - Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. Alexandra sat finishing his new - nightshirt, that must go in the top tray of his trunk. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IV - </h2> - <p> - The next morning Angelique, Amedee's wife, was in the kitchen baking pies, - assisted by old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board and the stove - stood the old cradle that had been Amedee's, and in it was his black-eyed - son. As Angelique, flushed and excited, with flour on her hands, stopped - to smile at the baby, Emil Bergson rode up to the kitchen door on his mare - and dismounted. - </p> - <p> - “'Medee is out in the field, Emil,” Angelique called as she ran across the - kitchen to the oven. “He begins to cut his wheat to-day; the first wheat - ready to cut anywhere about here. He bought a new header, you know, - because all the wheat's so short this year. I hope he can rent it to the - neighbors, it cost so much. He and his cousins bought a steam thresher on - shares. You ought to go out and see that header work. I watched it an hour - this morning, busy as I am with all the men to feed. He has a lot of - hands, but he's the only one that knows how to drive the header or how to - run the engine, so he has to be everywhere at once. He's sick, too, and - ought to be in his bed.” - </p> - <p> - Emil bent over Hector Baptiste, trying to make him blink his round, - bead-like black eyes. “Sick? What's the matter with your daddy, kid? Been - making him walk the floor with you?” - </p> - <p> - Angelique sniffed. “Not much! We don't have that kind of babies. It was - his father that kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be getting up and - making mustard plasters to put on his stomach. He had an awful colic. He - said he felt better this morning, but I don't think he ought to be out in - the field, overheating himself.” - </p> - <p> - Angelique did not speak with much anxiety, not because she was - indifferent, but because she felt so secure in their good fortune. Only - good things could happen to a rich, energetic, handsome young man like - Amedee, with a new baby in the cradle and a new header in the field. - </p> - <p> - Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste's head. “I say, Angelique, one of - 'Medee's grandmothers, 'way back, must have been a squaw. This kid looks - exactly like the Indian babies.” - </p> - <p> - Angelique made a face at him, but old Mrs. Chevalier had been touched on a - sore point, and she let out such a stream of fiery PATOIS that Emil fled - from the kitchen and mounted his mare. - </p> - <p> - Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, Emil rode across the field to - the clearing where the thresher stood, driven by a stationary engine and - fed from the header boxes. As Amedee was not on the engine, Emil rode on - to the wheatfield, where he recognized, on the header, the slight, wiry - figure of his friend, coatless, his white shirt puffed out by the wind, - his straw hat stuck jauntily on the side of his head. The six big - work-horses that drew, or rather pushed, the header, went abreast at a - rapid walk, and as they were still green at the work they required a good - deal of management on Amedee's part; especially when they turned the - corners, where they divided, three and three, and then swung round into - line again with a movement that looked as complicated as a wheel of - artillery. Emil felt a new thrill of admiration for his friend, and with - it the old pang of envy at the way in which Amedee could do with his might - what his hand found to do, and feel that, whatever it was, it was the most - important thing in the world. “I'll have to bring Alexandra up to see this - thing work,” Emil thought; “it's splendid!” - </p> - <p> - When he saw Emil, Amedee waved to him and called to one of his twenty - cousins to take the reins. Stepping off the header without stopping it, he - ran up to Emil who had dismounted. “Come along,” he called. “I have to go - over to the engine for a minute. I gotta green man running it, and I gotta - to keep an eye on him.” - </p> - <p> - Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed and more excited than even - the cares of managing a big farm at a critical time warranted. As they - passed behind a last year's stack, Amedee clutched at his right side and - sank down for a moment on the straw. - </p> - <p> - “Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. Something's the matter with my - insides, for sure.” - </p> - <p> - Emil felt his fiery cheek. “You ought to go straight to bed, 'Medee, and - telephone for the doctor; that's what you ought to do.” - </p> - <p> - Amedee staggered up with a gesture of despair. “How can I? I got no time - to be sick. Three thousand dollars' worth of new machinery to manage, and - the wheat so ripe it will begin to shatter next week. My wheat's short, - but it's gotta grand full berries. What's he slowing down for? We haven't - got header boxes enough to feed the thresher, I guess.” - </p> - <p> - Amedee started hot-foot across the stubble, leaning a little to the right - as he ran, and waved to the engineer not to stop the engine. - </p> - <p> - Emil saw that this was no time to talk about his own affairs. He mounted - his mare and rode on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends there good-bye. - He went first to see Raoul Marcel, and found him innocently practising the - “Gloria” for the big confirmation service on Sunday while he polished the - mirrors of his father's saloon. - </p> - <p> - As Emil rode homewards at three o'clock in the afternoon, he saw Amedee - staggering out of the wheatfield, supported by two of his cousins. Emil - stopped and helped them put the boy to bed. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - V - </h2> - <p> - When Frank Shabata came in from work at five o'clock that evening, old - Moses Marcel, Raoul's father, telephoned him that Amedee had had a seizure - in the wheatfield, and that Doctor Paradis was going to operate on him as - soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. Frank dropped a word of this - at the table, bolted his supper, and rode off to Sainte-Agnes, where there - would be sympathetic discussion of Amedee's case at Marcel's saloon. - </p> - <p> - As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned Alexandra. It was a comfort to - hear her friend's voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there was to be known - about Amedee. Emil had been there when they carried him out of the field, - and had stayed with him until the doctors operated for appendicitis at - five o'clock. They were afraid it was too late to do much good; it should - have been done three days ago. Amedee was in a very bad way. Emil had just - come home, worn out and sick himself. She had given him some brandy and - put him to bed. - </p> - <p> - Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amedee's illness had taken on a new - meaning to her, now that she knew Emil had been with him. And it might so - easily have been the other way—Emil who was ill and Amedee who was - sad! Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. She had seldom felt so - utterly lonely. If Emil was asleep, there was not even a chance of his - coming; and she could not go to Alexandra for sympathy. She meant to tell - Alexandra everything, as soon as Emil went away. Then whatever was left - between them would be honest. - </p> - <p> - But she could not stay in the house this evening. Where should she go? She - walked slowly down through the orchard, where the evening air was heavy - with the smell of wild cotton. The fresh, salty scent of the wild roses - had given way before this more powerful perfume of midsummer. Wherever - those ashes-of-rose balls hung on their milky stalks, the air about them - was saturated with their breath. The sky was still red in the west and the - evening star hung directly over the Bergsons' wind-mill. Marie crossed the - fence at the wheatfield corner, and walked slowly along the path that led - to Alexandra's. She could not help feeling hurt that Emil had not come to - tell her about Amedee. It seemed to her most unnatural that he should not - have come. If she were in trouble, certainly he was the one person in the - world she would want to see. Perhaps he wished her to understand that for - her he was as good as gone already. - </p> - <p> - Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the path, like a white night-moth - out of the fields. The years seemed to stretch before her like the land; - spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always the same patient fields, - the patient little trees, the patient lives; always the same yearning, the - same pulling at the chain—until the instinct to live had torn itself - and bled and weakened for the last time, until the chain secured a dead - woman, who might cautiously be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted - toward the remote, inaccessible evening star. - </p> - <p> - When she reached the stile she sat down and waited. How terrible it was to - love people when you could not really share their lives! - </p> - <p> - Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was already gone. They couldn't - meet any more. There was nothing for them to say. They had spent the last - penny of their small change; there was nothing left but gold. The day of - love-tokens was past. They had now only their hearts to give each other. - And Emil being gone, what was her life to be like? In some ways, it would - be easier. She would not, at least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were - once away and settled at work, she would not have the feeling that she was - spoiling his life. With the memory he left her, she could be as rash as - she chose. Nobody could be the worse for it but herself; and that, surely, - did not matter. Her own case was clear. When a girl had loved one man, and - then loved another while that man was still alive, everybody knew what to - think of her. What happened to her was of little consequence, so long as - she did not drag other people down with her. Emil once away, she could let - everything else go and live a new life of perfect love. - </p> - <p> - Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, after all, thought he might - come. And how glad she ought to be, she told herself, that he was asleep. - She left the path and went across the pasture. The moon was almost full. - An owl was hooting somewhere in the fields. She had scarcely thought about - where she was going when the pond glittered before her, where Emil had - shot the ducks. She stopped and looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty - way out of life, if one chose to take it. But she did not want to die. She - wanted to live and dream—a hundred years, forever! As long as this - sweetness welled up in her heart, as long as her breast could hold this - treasure of pain! She felt as the pond must feel when it held the moon - like that; when it encircled and swelled with that image of gold. - </p> - <p> - In the morning, when Emil came down-stairs, Alexandra met him in the - sitting-room and put her hands on his shoulders. “Emil, I went to your - room as soon as it was light, but you were sleeping so sound I hated to - wake you. There was nothing you could do, so I let you sleep. They - telephoned from Sainte-Agnes that Amedee died at three o'clock this - morning.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VI - </h2> - <p> - The Church has always held that life is for the living. On Saturday, while - half the village of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Amedee and preparing the - funeral black for his burial on Monday, the other half was busy with white - dresses and white veils for the great confirmation service to-morrow, when - the bishop was to confirm a class of one hundred boys and girls. Father - Duchesne divided his time between the living and the dead. All day - Saturday the church was a scene of bustling activity, a little hushed by - the thought of Amedee. The choir were busy rehearsing a mass of Rossini, - which they had studied and practised for this occasion. The women were - trimming the altar, the boys and girls were bringing flowers. - </p> - <p> - On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive overland to Sainte-Agnes from - Hanover, and Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place of one of - Amedee's cousins in the cavalcade of forty French boys who were to ride - across country to meet the bishop's carriage. At six o'clock on Sunday - morning the boys met at the church. As they stood holding their horses by - the bridle, they talked in low tones of their dead comrade. They kept - repeating that Amedee had always been a good boy, glancing toward the red - brick church which had played so large a part in Amedee's life, had been - the scene of his most serious moments and of his happiest hours. He had - played and wrestled and sung and courted under its shadow. Only three - weeks ago he had proudly carried his baby there to be christened. They - could not doubt that that invisible arm was still about Amedee; that - through the church on earth he had passed to the church triumphant, the - goal of the hopes and faith of so many hundred years. - </p> - <p> - When the word was given to mount, the young men rode at a walk out of the - village; but once out among the wheatfields in the morning sun, their - horses and their own youth got the better of them. A wave of zeal and - fiery enthusiasm swept over them. They longed for a Jerusalem to deliver. - The thud of their galloping hoofs interrupted many a country breakfast and - brought many a woman and child to the door of the farmhouses as they - passed. Five miles east of Sainte-Agnes they met the bishop in his open - carriage, attended by two priests. Like one man the boys swung off their - hats in a broad salute, and bowed their heads as the handsome old man - lifted his two fingers in the episcopal blessing. The horsemen closed - about the carriage like a guard, and whenever a restless horse broke from - control and shot down the road ahead of the body, the bishop laughed and - rubbed his plump hands together. “What fine boys!” he said to his priests. - “The Church still has her cavalry.” - </p> - <p> - As the troop swept past the graveyard half a mile east of the town,—the - first frame church of the parish had stood there,—old Pierre Seguin - was already out with his pick and spade, digging Amedee's grave. He knelt - and uncovered as the bishop passed. The boys with one accord looked away - from old Pierre to the red church on the hill, with the gold cross flaming - on its steeple. - </p> - <p> - Mass was at eleven. While the church was filling, Emil Bergson waited - outside, watching the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After the bell - began to ring, he saw Frank Shabata ride up on horseback and tie his horse - to the hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. Emil turned and went into - the church. Amedee's was the only empty pew, and he sat down in it. Some - of Amedee's cousins were there, dressed in black and weeping. When all the - pews were full, the old men and boys packed the open space at the back of - the church, kneeling on the floor. There was scarcely a family in town - that was not represented in the confirmation class, by a cousin, at least. - The new communicants, with their clear, reverent faces, were beautiful to - look upon as they entered in a body and took the front benches reserved - for them. Even before the Mass began, the air was charged with feeling. - The choir had never sung so well and Raoul Marcel, in the “Gloria,” drew - even the bishop's eyes to the organ loft. For the offertory he sang - Gounod's “Ave Maria,”—always spoken of in Sainte-Agnes as “the Ave - Maria.” - </p> - <p> - Emil began to torture himself with questions about Marie. Was she ill? Had - she quarreled with her husband? Was she too unhappy to find comfort even - here? Had she, perhaps, thought that he would come to her? Was she waiting - for him? Overtaxed by excitement and sorrow as he was, the rapture of the - service took hold upon his body and mind. As he listened to Raoul, he - seemed to emerge from the conflicting emotions which had been whirling him - about and sucking him under. He felt as if a clear light broke upon his - mind, and with it a conviction that good was, after all, stronger than - evil, and that good was possible to men. He seemed to discover that there - was a kind of rapture in which he could love forever without faltering and - without sin. He looked across the heads of the people at Frank Shabata - with calmness. That rapture was for those who could feel it; for people - who could not, it was non-existent. He coveted nothing that was Frank - Shabata's. The spirit he had met in music was his own. Frank Shabata had - never found it; would never find it if he lived beside it a thousand - years; would have destroyed it if he had found it, as Herod slew the - innocents, as Rome slew the martyrs. - </p> - <p> - SAN—CTA MARI-I-I-A, - </p> - <p> - wailed Raoul from the organ loft; - </p> - <p> - O—RA PRO NO-O-BIS! - </p> - <p> - And it did not occur to Emil that any one had ever reasoned thus before, - that music had ever before given a man this equivocal revelation. - </p> - <p> - The confirmation service followed the Mass. When it was over, the - congregation thronged about the newly confirmed. The girls, and even the - boys, were kissed and embraced and wept over. All the aunts and - grandmothers wept with joy. The housewives had much ado to tear themselves - away from the general rejoicing and hurry back to their kitchens. The - country parishioners were staying in town for dinner, and nearly every - house in Sainte-Agnes entertained visitors that day. Father Duchesne, the - bishop, and the visiting priests dined with Fabien Sauvage, the banker. - Emil and Frank Shabata were both guests of old Moise Marcel. After dinner - Frank and old Moise retired to the rear room of the saloon to play - California Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil went over to the banker's - with Raoul, who had been asked to sing for the bishop. - </p> - <p> - At three o'clock, Emil felt that he could stand it no longer. He slipped - out under cover of “The Holy City,” followed by Malvina's wistful eye, and - went to the stable for his mare. He was at that height of excitement from - which everything is foreshortened, from which life seems short and simple, - death very near, and the soul seems to soar like an eagle. As he rode past - the graveyard he looked at the brown hole in the earth where Amedee was to - lie, and felt no horror. That, too, was beautiful, that simple doorway - into forgetfulness. The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for that - brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old and the poor - and the maimed who shrink from that brown hole; its wooers are found among - the young, the passionate, the gallant-hearted. It was not until he had - passed the graveyard that Emil realized where he was going. It was the - hour for saying good-bye. It might be the last time that he would see her - alone, and today he could leave her without rancor, without bitterness. - </p> - <p> - Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of the - smell of the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an oven. The - breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed him like pleasant things - in a dream. He could feel nothing but the sense of diminishing distance. - It seemed to him that his mare was flying, or running on wheels, like a - railway train. The sunlight, flashing on the window-glass of the big red - barns, drove him wild with joy. He was like an arrow shot from the bow. - His life poured itself out along the road before him as he rode to the - Shabata farm. - </p> - <p> - When Emil alighted at the Shabatas' gate, his horse was in a lather. He - tied her in the stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. She might - be at Mrs. Hiller's or with Alexandra. But anything that reminded him of - her would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry tree... When he reached the - orchard the sun was hanging low over the wheatfield. Long fingers of light - reached through the apple branches as through a net; the orchard was - riddled and shot with gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely - interferences that reflected and refracted light. Emil went softly down - between the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. When he came to the - corner, he stopped short and put his hand over his mouth. Marie was lying - on her side under the white mulberry tree, her face half hidden in the - grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply where they had happened to - fall. She had lived a day of her new life of perfect love, and it had left - her like this. Her breast rose and fell faintly, as if she were asleep. - Emil threw himself down beside her and took her in his arms. The blood - came back to her cheeks, her amber eyes opened slowly, and in them Emil - saw his own face and the orchard and the sun. “I was dreaming this,” she - whispered, hiding her face against him, “don't take my dream away!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VII - </h2> - <p> - When Frank Shabata got home that night, he found Emil's mare in his - stable. Such an impertinence amazed him. Like everybody else, Frank had - had an exciting day. Since noon he had been drinking too much, and he was - in a bad temper. He talked bitterly to himself while he put his own horse - away, and as he went up the path and saw that the house was dark he felt - an added sense of injury. He approached quietly and listened on the - doorstep. Hearing nothing, he opened the kitchen door and went softly from - one room to another. Then he went through the house again, upstairs and - down, with no better result. He sat down on the bottom step of the box - stairway and tried to get his wits together. In that unnatural quiet there - was no sound but his own heavy breathing. Suddenly an owl began to hoot - out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. An idea flashed into his mind, - and his sense of injury and outrage grew. He went into his bedroom and - took his murderous 405 Winchester from the closet. - </p> - <p> - When Frank took up his gun and walked out of the house, he had not the - faintest purpose of doing anything with it. He did not believe that he had - any real grievance. But it gratified him to feel like a desperate man. He - had got into the habit of seeing himself always in desperate straits. His - unhappy temperament was like a cage; he could never get out of it; and he - felt that other people, his wife in particular, must have put him there. - It had never more than dimly occurred to Frank that he made his own - unhappiness. Though he took up his gun with dark projects in his mind, he - would have been paralyzed with fright had he known that there was the - slightest probability of his ever carrying any of them out. - </p> - <p> - Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, stopped and stood for a moment - lost in thought. He retraced his steps and looked through the barn and the - hayloft. Then he went out to the road, where he took the foot-path along - the outside of the orchard hedge. The hedge was twice as tall as Frank - himself, and so dense that one could see through it only by peering - closely between the leaves. He could see the empty path a long way in the - moonlight. His mind traveled ahead to the stile, which he always thought - of as haunted by Emil Bergson. But why had he left his horse? - </p> - <p> - At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard hedge ended and the path led - across the pasture to the Bergsons', Frank stopped. In the warm, - breathless night air he heard a murmuring sound, perfectly inarticulate, - as low as the sound of water coming from a spring, where there is no fall, - and where there are no stones to fret it. Frank strained his ears. It - ceased. He held his breath and began to tremble. Resting the butt of his - gun on the ground, he parted the mulberry leaves softly with his fingers - and peered through the hedge at the dark figures on the grass, in the - shadow of the mulberry tree. It seemed to him that they must feel his - eyes, that they must hear him breathing. But they did not. Frank, who had - always wanted to see things blacker than they were, for once wanted to - believe less than he saw. The woman lying in the shadow might so easily be - one of the Bergsons' farm-girls.... Again the murmur, like water welling - out of the ground. This time he heard it more distinctly, and his blood - was quicker than his brain. He began to act, just as a man who falls into - the fire begins to act. The gun sprang to his shoulder, he sighted - mechanically and fired three times without stopping, stopped without - knowing why. Either he shut his eyes or he had vertigo. He did not see - anything while he was firing. He thought he heard a cry simultaneous with - the second report, but he was not sure. He peered again through the hedge, - at the two dark figures under the tree. They had fallen a little apart - from each other, and were perfectly still—No, not quite; in a white - patch of light, where the moon shone through the branches, a man's hand - was plucking spasmodically at the grass. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly the woman stirred and uttered a cry, then another, and another. - She was living! She was dragging herself toward the hedge! Frank dropped - his gun and ran back along the path, shaking, stumbling, gasping. He had - never imagined such horror. The cries followed him. They grew fainter and - thicker, as if she were choking. He dropped on his knees beside the hedge - and crouched like a rabbit, listening; fainter, fainter; a sound like a - whine; again—a moan—another—silence. Frank scrambled to - his feet and ran on, groaning and praying. From habit he went toward the - house, where he was used to being soothed when he had worked himself into - a frenzy, but at the sight of the black, open door, he started back. He - knew that he had murdered somebody, that a woman was bleeding and moaning - in the orchard, but he had not realized before that it was his wife. The - gate stared him in the face. He threw his hands over his head. Which way - to turn? He lifted his tormented face and looked at the sky. “Holy Mother - of God, not to suffer! She was a good girl—not to suffer!” - </p> - <p> - Frank had been wont to see himself in dramatic situations; but now, when - he stood by the windmill, in the bright space between the barn and the - house, facing his own black doorway, he did not see himself at all. He - stood like the hare when the dogs are approaching from all sides. And he - ran like a hare, back and forth about that moonlit space, before he could - make up his mind to go into the dark stable for a horse. The thought of - going into a doorway was terrible to him. He caught Emil's horse by the - bit and led it out. He could not have buckled a bridle on his own. After - two or three attempts, he lifted himself into the saddle and started for - Hanover. If he could catch the one o'clock train, he had money enough to - get as far as Omaha. - </p> - <p> - While he was thinking dully of this in some less sensitized part of his - brain, his acuter faculties were going over and over the cries he had - heard in the orchard. Terror was the only thing that kept him from going - back to her, terror that she might still be she, that she might still be - suffering. A woman, mutilated and bleeding in his orchard—it was - because it was a woman that he was so afraid. It was inconceivable that he - should have hurt a woman. He would rather be eaten by wild beasts than see - her move on the ground as she had moved in the orchard. Why had she been - so careless? She knew he was like a crazy man when he was angry. She had - more than once taken that gun away from him and held it, when he was angry - with other people. Once it had gone off while they were struggling over - it. She was never afraid. But, when she knew him, why hadn't she been more - careful? Didn't she have all summer before her to love Emil Bergson in, - without taking such chances? Probably she had met the Smirka boy, too, - down there in the orchard. He didn't care. She could have met all the men - on the Divide there, and welcome, if only she hadn't brought this horror - on him. - </p> - <p> - There was a wrench in Frank's mind. He did not honestly believe that of - her. He knew that he was doing her wrong. He stopped his horse to admit - this to himself the more directly, to think it out the more clearly. He - knew that he was to blame. For three years he had been trying to break her - spirit. She had a way of making the best of things that seemed to him a - sentimental affectation. He wanted his wife to resent that he was wasting - his best years among these stupid and unappreciative people; but she had - seemed to find the people quite good enough. If he ever got rich he meant - to buy her pretty clothes and take her to California in a Pullman car, and - treat her like a lady; but in the mean time he wanted her to feel that - life was as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. He had tried to make her - life ugly. He had refused to share any of the little pleasures she was so - plucky about making for herself. She could be gay about the least thing in - the world; but she must be gay! When she first came to him, her faith in - him, her adoration—Frank struck the mare with his fist. Why had - Marie made him do this thing; why had she brought this upon him? He was - overwhelmed by sickening misfortune. All at once he heard her cries again—he - had forgotten for a moment. “Maria,” he sobbed aloud, “Maria!” - </p> - <p> - When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the motion of his horse brought on a - violent attack of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on again, but he - could think of nothing except his physical weakness and his desire to be - comforted by his wife. He wanted to get into his own bed. Had his wife - been at home, he would have turned and gone back to her meekly enough. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VIII - </h2> - <p> - When old Ivar climbed down from his loft at four o'clock the next morning, - he came upon Emil's mare, jaded and lather-stained, her bridle broken, - chewing the scattered tufts of hay outside the stable door. The old man - was thrown into a fright at once. He put the mare in her stall, threw her - a measure of oats, and then set out as fast as his bow-legs could carry - him on the path to the nearest neighbor. - </p> - <p> - “Something is wrong with that boy. Some misfortune has come upon us. He - would never have used her so, in his right senses. It is not his way to - abuse his mare,” the old man kept muttering, as he scuttled through the - short, wet pasture grass on his bare feet. - </p> - <p> - While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the first long rays of the sun - were reaching down between the orchard boughs to those two dew-drenched - figures. The story of what had happened was written plainly on the orchard - grass, and on the white mulberries that had fallen in the night and were - covered with dark stain. For Emil the chapter had been short. He was shot - in the heart, and had rolled over on his back and died. His face was - turned up to the sky and his brows were drawn in a frown, as if he had - realized that something had befallen him. But for Marie Shabata it had not - been so easy. One ball had torn through her right lung, another had - shattered the carotid artery. She must have started up and gone toward the - hedge, leaving a trail of blood. There she had fallen and bled. From that - spot there was another trail, heavier than the first, where she must have - dragged herself back to Emil's body. Once there, she seemed not to have - struggled any more. She had lifted her head to her lover's breast, taken - his hand in both her own, and bled quietly to death. She was lying on her - right side in an easy and natural position, her cheek on Emil's shoulder. - On her face there was a look of ineffable content. Her lips were parted a - little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a day-dream or a light - slumber. After she lay down there, she seemed not to have moved an - eyelash. The hand she held was covered with dark stains, where she had - kissed it. - </p> - <p> - But the stained, slippery grass, the darkened mulberries, told only half - the story. Above Marie and Emil, two white butterflies from Frank's - alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out among the interlacing shadows; - diving and soaring, now close together, now far apart; and in the long - grass by the fence the last wild roses of the year opened their pink - hearts to die. - </p> - <p> - When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he saw Shabata's rifle lying in - the way. He turned and peered through the branches, falling upon his knees - as if his legs had been mowed from under him. “Merciful God!” he groaned. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra, too, had risen early that morning, because of her anxiety about - Emil. She was in Emil's room upstairs when, from the window, she saw Ivar - coming along the path that led from the Shabatas'. He was running like a - spent man, tottering and lurching from side to side. Ivar never drank, and - Alexandra thought at once that one of his spells had come upon him, and - that he must be in a very bad way indeed. She ran downstairs and hurried - out to meet him, to hide his infirmity from the eyes of her household. The - old man fell in the road at her feet and caught her hand, over which he - bowed his shaggy head. “Mistress, mistress,” he sobbed, “it has fallen! - Sin and death for the young ones! God have mercy upon us!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PART5" id="link2H_PART5"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PART V. Alexandra - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I - </h2> - <p> - Ivar was sitting at a cobbler's bench in the barn, mending harness by the - light of a lantern and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. It was only - five o'clock of a mid-October day, but a storm had come up in the - afternoon, bringing black clouds, a cold wind and torrents of rain. The - old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, and occasionally stopped to warm his - fingers at the lantern. Suddenly a woman burst into the shed, as if she - had been blown in, accompanied by a shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, - wrapped in a man's overcoat and wearing a pair of boots over her shoes. In - time of trouble Signa had come back to stay with her mistress, for she was - the only one of the maids from whom Alexandra would accept much personal - service. It was three months now since the news of the terrible thing that - had happened in Frank Shabata's orchard had first run like a fire over the - Divide. Signa and Nelse were staying on with Alexandra until winter. - </p> - <p> - “Ivar,” Signa exclaimed as she wiped the rain from her face, “do you know - where she is?” - </p> - <p> - The old man put down his cobbler's knife. “Who, the mistress?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. She went away about three o'clock. I happened to look out of the - window and saw her going across the fields in her thin dress and sun-hat. - And now this storm has come on. I thought she was going to Mrs. Hiller's, - and I telephoned as soon as the thunder stopped, but she had not been - there. I'm afraid she is out somewhere and will get her death of cold.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. “JA, JA, we will see. I will - hitch the boy's mare to the cart and go.” - </p> - <p> - Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses' stable. She was - shivering with cold and excitement. “Where do you suppose she can be, - Ivar?” - </p> - <p> - The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg. “How - should I know?” - </p> - <p> - “But you think she is at the graveyard, don't you?” Signa persisted. “So - do I. Oh, I wish she would be more like herself! I can't believe it's - Alexandra Bergson come to this, with no head about anything. I have to - tell her when to eat and when to go to bed.” - </p> - <p> - “Patience, patience, sister,” muttered Ivar as he settled the bit in the - horse's mouth. “When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the eyes of the - spirit are open. She will have a message from those who are gone, and that - will bring her peace. Until then we must bear with her. You and I are the - only ones who have weight with her. She trusts us.” - </p> - <p> - “How awful it's been these last three months.” Signa held the lantern so - that he could see to buckle the straps. “It don't seem right that we must - all be so miserable. Why do we all have to be punished? Seems to me like - good times would never come again.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but said nothing. He stooped and - took a sandburr from his toe. - </p> - <p> - “Ivar,” Signa asked suddenly, “will you tell me why you go barefoot? All - the time I lived here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it for a - penance, or what?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the body. From my youth up I have - had a strong, rebellious body, and have been subject to every kind of - temptation. Even in age my temptations are prolonged. It was necessary to - make some allowances; and the feet, as I understand it, are free members. - There is no divine prohibition for them in the Ten Commandments. The - hands, the tongue, the eyes, the heart, all the bodily desires we are - commanded to subdue; but the feet are free members. I indulge them without - harm to any one, even to trampling in filth when my desires are low. They - are quickly cleaned again.” - </p> - <p> - Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful as she followed Ivar out to the - wagon-shed and held the shafts up for him, while he backed in the mare and - buckled the hold-backs. “You have been a good friend to the mistress, - Ivar,” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “And you, God be with you,” replied Ivar as he clambered into the cart and - put the lantern under the oilcloth lap-cover. “Now for a ducking, my - girl,” he said to the mare, gathering up the reins. - </p> - <p> - As they emerged from the shed, a stream of water, running off the thatch, - struck the mare on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly, then struck - out bravely on the soft ground, slipping back again and again as she - climbed the hill to the main road. Between the rain and the darkness Ivar - could see very little, so he let Emil's mare have the rein, keeping her - head in the right direction. When the ground was level, he turned her out - of the dirt road upon the sod, where she was able to trot without - slipping. - </p> - <p> - Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three miles from the house, the storm - had spent itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, dripping rain. - The sky and the land were a dark smoke color, and seemed to be coming - together, like two waves. When Ivar stopped at the gate and swung out his - lantern, a white figure rose from beside John Bergson's white stone. - </p> - <p> - The old man sprang to the ground and shuffled toward the gate calling, - “Mistress, mistress!” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her hand on his shoulder. “TYST! - Ivar. There's nothing to be worried about. I'm sorry if I've scared you - all. I didn't notice the storm till it was on me, and I couldn't walk - against it. I'm glad you've come. I am so tired I didn't know how I'd ever - get home.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in her face. “GUD! You are - enough to frighten us, mistress. You look like a drowned woman. How could - you do such a thing!” - </p> - <p> - Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the gate and helped her into the - cart, wrapping her in the dry blankets on which he had been sitting. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. “Not much use in that, Ivar. You will - only shut the wet in. I don't feel so cold now; but I'm heavy and numb. - I'm glad you came.” - </p> - <p> - Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a sliding trot. Her feet sent back - a continual spatter of mud. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra spoke to the old man as they jogged along through the sullen - gray twilight of the storm. “Ivar, I think it has done me good to get cold - clear through like this, once. I don't believe I shall suffer so much any - more. When you get so near the dead, they seem more real than the living. - Worldly thoughts leave one. Ever since Emil died, I've suffered so when it - rained. Now that I've been out in it with him, I shan't dread it. After - you once get cold clear through, the feeling of the rain on you is sweet. - It seems to bring back feelings you had when you were a baby. It carries - you back into the dark, before you were born; you can't see things, but - they come to you, somehow, and you know them and aren't afraid of them. - Maybe it's like that with the dead. If they feel anything at all, it's the - old things, before they were born, that comfort people like the feeling of - their own bed does when they are little.” - </p> - <p> - “Mistress,” said Ivar reproachfully, “those are bad thoughts. The dead are - in Paradise.” - </p> - <p> - Then he hung his head, for he did not believe that Emil was in Paradise. - </p> - <p> - When they got home, Signa had a fire burning in the sitting-room stove. - She undressed Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while Ivar made - ginger tea in the kitchen. When Alexandra was in bed, wrapped in hot - blankets, Ivar came in with his tea and saw that she drank it. Signa asked - permission to sleep on the slat lounge outside her door. Alexandra endured - their attentions patiently, but she was glad when they put out the lamp - and left her. As she lay alone in the dark, it occurred to her for the - first time that perhaps she was actually tired of life. All the physical - operations of life seemed difficult and painful. She longed to be free - from her own body, which ached and was so heavy. And longing itself was - heavy: she yearned to be free of that. - </p> - <p> - As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, more vividly than for many - years, the old illusion of her girlhood, of being lifted and carried - lightly by some one very strong. He was with her a long while this time, - and carried her very far, and in his arms she felt free from pain. When he - laid her down on her bed again, she opened her eyes, and, for the first - time in her life, she saw him, saw him clearly, though the room was dark, - and his face was covered. He was standing in the doorway of her room. His - white cloak was thrown over his face, and his head was bent a little - forward. His shoulders seemed as strong as the foundations of the world. - His right arm, bared from the elbow, was dark and gleaming, like bronze, - and she knew at once that it was the arm of the mightiest of all lovers. - She knew at last for whom it was she had waited, and where he would carry - her. That, she told herself, was very well. Then she went to sleep. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra wakened in the morning with nothing worse than a hard cold and a - stiff shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, and it was during that - time that she formed a resolution to go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. - Ever since she last saw him in the courtroom, Frank's haggard face and - wild eyes had haunted her. The trial had lasted only three days. Frank had - given himself up to the police in Omaha and pleaded guilty of killing - without malice and without premeditation. The gun was, of course, against - him, and the judge had given him the full sentence,—ten years. He - had now been in the State Penitentiary for a month. - </p> - <p> - Frank was the only one, Alexandra told herself, for whom anything could be - done. He had been less in the wrong than any of them, and he was paying - the heaviest penalty. She often felt that she herself had been more to - blame than poor Frank. From the time the Shabatas had first moved to the - neighboring farm, she had omitted no opportunity of throwing Marie and - Emil together. Because she knew Frank was surly about doing little things - to help his wife, she was always sending Emil over to spade or plant or - carpenter for Marie. She was glad to have Emil see as much as possible of - an intelligent, city-bred girl like their neighbor; she noticed that it - improved his manners. She knew that Emil was fond of Marie, but it had - never occurred to her that Emil's feeling might be different from her own. - She wondered at herself now, but she had never thought of danger in that - direction. If Marie had been unmarried,—oh, yes! Then she would have - kept her eyes open. But the mere fact that she was Shabata's wife, for - Alexandra, settled everything. That she was beautiful, impulsive, barely - two years older than Emil, these facts had had no weight with Alexandra. - Emil was a good boy, and only bad boys ran after married women. - </p> - <p> - Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize that Marie was, after all, - Marie; not merely a “married woman.” Sometimes, when Alexandra thought of - her, it was with an aching tenderness. The moment she had reached them in - the orchard that morning, everything was clear to her. There was something - about those two lying in the grass, something in the way Marie had settled - her cheek on Emil's shoulder, that told her everything. She wondered then - how they could have helped loving each other; how she could have helped - knowing that they must. Emil's cold, frowning face, the girl's content—Alexandra - had felt awe of them, even in the first shock of her grief. - </p> - <p> - The idleness of those days in bed, the relaxation of body which attended - them, enabled Alexandra to think more calmly than she had done since - Emil's death. She and Frank, she told herself, were left out of that group - of friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster. She must certainly see - Frank Shabata. Even in the courtroom her heart had grieved for him. He was - in a strange country, he had no kinsmen or friends, and in a moment he had - ruined his life. Being what he was, she felt, Frank could not have acted - otherwise. She could understand his behavior more easily than she could - understand Marie's. Yes, she must go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. - </p> - <p> - The day after Emil's funeral, Alexandra had written to Carl Linstrum; a - single page of notepaper, a bare statement of what had happened. She was - not a woman who could write much about such a thing, and about her own - feelings she could never write very freely. She knew that Carl was away - from post-offices, prospecting somewhere in the interior. Before he - started he had written her where he expected to go, but her ideas about - Alaska were vague. As the weeks went by and she heard nothing from him, it - seemed to Alexandra that her heart grew hard against Carl. She began to - wonder whether she would not do better to finish her life alone. What was - left of life seemed unimportant. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II - </h2> - <p> - Late in the afternoon of a brilliant October day, Alexandra Bergson, - dressed in a black suit and traveling-hat, alighted at the Burlington - depot in Lincoln. She drove to the Lindell Hotel, where she had stayed two - years ago when she came up for Emil's Commencement. In spite of her usual - air of sureness and self-possession, Alexandra felt ill at ease in hotels, - and she was glad, when she went to the clerk's desk to register, that - there were not many people in the lobby. She had her supper early, wearing - her hat and black jacket down to the dining-room and carrying her handbag. - After supper she went out for a walk. - </p> - <p> - It was growing dark when she reached the university campus. She did not go - into the grounds, but walked slowly up and down the stone walk outside the - long iron fence, looking through at the young men who were running from - one building to another, at the lights shining from the armory and the - library. A squad of cadets were going through their drill behind the - armory, and the commands of their young officer rang out at regular - intervals, so sharp and quick that Alexandra could not understand them. - Two stalwart girls came down the library steps and out through one of the - iron gates. As they passed her, Alexandra was pleased to hear them - speaking Bohemian to each other. Every few moments a boy would come - running down the flagged walk and dash out into the street as if he were - rushing to announce some wonder to the world. Alexandra felt a great - tenderness for them all. She wished one of them would stop and speak to - her. She wished she could ask them whether they had known Emil. - </p> - <p> - As she lingered by the south gate she actually did encounter one of the - boys. He had on his drill cap and was swinging his books at the end of a - long strap. It was dark by this time; he did not see her and ran against - her. He snatched off his cap and stood bareheaded and panting. “I'm - awfully sorry,” he said in a bright, clear voice, with a rising - inflection, as if he expected her to say something. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it was my fault!” said Alexandra eagerly. “Are you an old student - here, may I ask?” - </p> - <p> - “No, ma'am. I'm a Freshie, just off the farm. Cherry County. Were you - hunting somebody?” - </p> - <p> - “No, thank you. That is—” Alexandra wanted to detain him. “That is, - I would like to find some of my brother's friends. He graduated two years - ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you'd have to try the Seniors, wouldn't you? Let's see; I don't know - any of them yet, but there'll be sure to be some of them around the - library. That red building, right there,” he pointed. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, I'll try there,” said Alexandra lingeringly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that's all right! Good-night.” The lad clapped his cap on his head - and ran straight down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked after him - wistfully. - </p> - <p> - She walked back to her hotel unreasonably comforted. “What a nice voice - that boy had, and how polite he was. I know Emil was always like that to - women.” And again, after she had undressed and was standing in her - nightgown, brushing her long, heavy hair by the electric light, she - remembered him and said to herself, “I don't think I ever heard a nicer - voice than that boy had. I hope he will get on well here. Cherry County; - that's where the hay is so fine, and the coyotes can scratch down to - water.” - </p> - <p> - At nine o'clock the next morning Alexandra presented herself at the - warden's office in the State Penitentiary. The warden was a German, a - ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had formerly been a harness-maker. - Alexandra had a letter to him from the German banker in Hanover. As he - glanced at the letter, Mr. Schwartz put away his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he's gettin' along fine,” said Mr. - Schwartz cheerfully. - </p> - <p> - “I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he might be quarrelsome and get - himself into more trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I would like to - tell you a little about Frank Shabata, and why I am interested in him.” - </p> - <p> - The warden listened genially while she told him briefly something of - Frank's history and character, but he did not seem to find anything - unusual in her account. - </p> - <p> - “Sure, I'll keep an eye on him. We'll take care of him all right,” he - said, rising. “You can talk to him here, while I go to see to things in - the kitchen. I'll have him sent in. He ought to be done washing out his - cell by this time. We have to keep 'em clean, you know.” - </p> - <p> - The warden paused at the door, speaking back over his shoulder to a pale - young man in convicts' clothes who was seated at a desk in the corner, - writing in a big ledger. - </p> - <p> - “Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just step out and give this lady a - chance to talk.” - </p> - <p> - The young man bowed his head and bent over his ledger again. - </p> - <p> - When Mr. Schwartz disappeared, Alexandra thrust her black-edged - handkerchief nervously into her handbag. Coming out on the streetcar she - had not had the least dread of meeting Frank. But since she had been here - the sounds and smells in the corridor, the look of the men in convicts' - clothes who passed the glass door of the warden's office, affected her - unpleasantly. - </p> - <p> - The warden's clock ticked, the young convict's pen scratched busily in the - big book, and his sharp shoulders were shaken every few seconds by a loose - cough which he tried to smother. It was easy to see that he was a sick - man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, but he did not once raise his eyes. - He wore a white shirt under his striped jacket, a high collar, and a - necktie, very carefully tied. His hands were thin and white and well cared - for, and he had a seal ring on his little finger. When he heard steps - approaching in the corridor, he rose, blotted his book, put his pen in the - rack, and left the room without raising his eyes. Through the door he - opened a guard came in, bringing Frank Shabata. - </p> - <p> - “You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? Here he is. Be on your good - behavior, now. He can set down, lady,” seeing that Alexandra remained - standing. “Push that white button when you're through with him, and I'll - come.” - </p> - <p> - The guard went out and Alexandra and Frank were left alone. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra tried not to see his hideous clothes. She tried to look straight - into his face, which she could scarcely believe was his. It was already - bleached to a chalky gray. His lips were colorless, his fine teeth looked - yellowish. He glanced at Alexandra sullenly, blinked as if he had come - from a dark place, and one eyebrow twitched continually. She felt at once - that this interview was a terrible ordeal to him. His shaved head, showing - the conformation of his skull, gave him a criminal look which he had not - had during the trial. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra held out her hand. “Frank,” she said, her eyes filling suddenly, - “I hope you'll let me be friendly with you. I understand how you did it. I - don't feel hard toward you. They were more to blame than you.” - </p> - <p> - Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from his trousers pocket. He had - begun to cry. He turned away from Alexandra. “I never did mean to do - not'ing to dat woman,” he muttered. “I never mean to do not'ing to dat - boy. I ain't had not'ing ag'in' dat boy. I always like dat boy fine. An' - then I find him—” He stopped. The feeling went out of his face and - eyes. He dropped into a chair and sat looking stolidly at the floor, his - hands hanging loosely between his knees, the handkerchief lying across his - striped leg. He seemed to have stirred up in his mind a disgust that had - paralyzed his faculties. - </p> - <p> - “I haven't come up here to blame you, Frank. I think they were more to - blame than you.” Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. - </p> - <p> - Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of the office window. “I guess dat - place all go to hell what I work so hard on,” he said with a slow, bitter - smile. “I not care a damn.” He stopped and rubbed the palm of his hand - over the light bristles on his head with annoyance. “I no can t'ink - without my hair,” he complained. “I forget English. We not talk here, - except swear.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to have undergone a change of - personality. There was scarcely anything by which she could recognize her - handsome Bohemian neighbor. He seemed, somehow, not altogether human. She - did not know what to say to him. - </p> - <p> - “You do not feel hard to me, Frank?” she asked at last. - </p> - <p> - Frank clenched his fist and broke out in excitement. “I not feel hard at - no woman. I tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit my wife. No, never - I hurt her when she devil me something awful!” He struck his fist down on - the warden's desk so hard that he afterward stroked it absently. A pale - pink crept over his neck and face. “Two, t'ree years I know dat woman don' - care no more 'bout me, Alexandra Bergson. I know she after some other man. - I know her, oo-oo! An' I ain't never hurt her. I never would-a done dat, - if I ain't had dat gun along. I don' know what in hell make me take dat - gun. She always say I ain't no man to carry gun. If she been in dat house, - where she ought-a been—But das a foolish talk.” - </p> - <p> - Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, as he had stopped before. - Alexandra felt that there was something strange in the way he chilled off, - as if something came up in him that extinguished his power of feeling or - thinking. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Frank,” she said kindly. “I know you never meant to hurt Marie.” - </p> - <p> - Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled slowly with tears. “You know, - I most forgit dat woman's name. She ain't got no name for me no more. I - never hate my wife, but dat woman what make me do dat—Honest to God, - but I hate her! I no man to fight. I don' want to kill no boy and no - woman. I not care how many men she take under dat tree. I no care for - not'ing but dat fine boy I kill, Alexandra Bergson. I guess I go crazy - sure 'nough.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane she had found in Frank's - clothes-closet. She thought of how he had come to this country a gay young - fellow, so attractive that the prettiest Bohemian girl in Omaha had run - away with him. It seemed unreasonable that life should have landed him in - such a place as this. She blamed Marie bitterly. And why, with her happy, - affectionate nature, should she have brought destruction and sorrow to all - who had loved her, even to poor old Joe Tovesky, the uncle who used to - carry her about so proudly when she was a little girl? That was the - strangest thing of all. Was there, then, something wrong in being - warm-hearted and impulsive like that? Alexandra hated to think so. But - there was Emil, in the Norwegian graveyard at home, and here was Frank - Shabata. Alexandra rose and took him by the hand. - </p> - <p> - “Frank Shabata, I am never going to stop trying until I get you pardoned. - I'll never give the Governor any peace. I know I can get you out of this - place.” - </p> - <p> - Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he gathered confidence from her - face. “Alexandra,” he said earnestly, “if I git out-a here, I not trouble - dis country no more. I go back where I come from; see my mother.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra tried to withdraw her hand, but Frank held on to it nervously. - He put out his finger and absently touched a button on her black jacket. - “Alexandra,” he said in a low tone, looking steadily at the button, “you - ain' t'ink I use dat girl awful bad before—” - </p> - <p> - “No, Frank. We won't talk about that,” Alexandra said, pressing his hand. - “I can't help Emil now, so I'm going to do what I can for you. You know I - don't go away from home often, and I came up here on purpose to tell you - this.” - </p> - <p> - The warden at the glass door looked in inquiringly. Alexandra nodded, and - he came in and touched the white button on his desk. The guard appeared, - and with a sinking heart Alexandra saw Frank led away down the corridor. - After a few words with Mr. Schwartz, she left the prison and made her way - to the street-car. She had refused with horror the warden's cordial - invitation to “go through the institution.” As the car lurched over its - uneven roadbed, back toward Lincoln, Alexandra thought of how she and - Frank had been wrecked by the same storm and of how, although she could - come out into the sunlight, she had not much more left in her life than - he. She remembered some lines from a poem she had liked in her schooldays:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Henceforth the world will only be - A wider prison-house to me,— -</pre> - <p> - and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her heart; some such feeling as - had twice frozen Frank Shabata's features while they talked together. She - wished she were back on the Divide. - </p> - <p> - When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk held up one finger and - beckoned to her. As she approached his desk, he handed her a telegram. - Alexandra took the yellow envelope and looked at it in perplexity, then - stepped into the elevator without opening it. As she walked down the - corridor toward her room, she reflected that she was, in a manner, immune - from evil tidings. On reaching her room she locked the door, and sitting - down on a chair by the dresser, opened the telegram. It was from Hanover, - and it read:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait here until you come. - Please hurry. CARL LINSTRUM. -</pre> - <p> - Alexandra put her head down on the dresser and burst into tears. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III - </h2> - <p> - The next afternoon Carl and Alexandra were walking across the fields from - Mrs. Hiller's. Alexandra had left Lincoln after midnight, and Carl had met - her at the Hanover station early in the morning. After they reached home, - Alexandra had gone over to Mrs. Hiller's to leave a little present she had - bought for her in the city. They stayed at the old lady's door but a - moment, and then came out to spend the rest of the afternoon in the sunny - fields. - </p> - <p> - Alexandra had taken off her black traveling suit and put on a white dress; - partly because she saw that her black clothes made Carl uncomfortable and - partly because she felt oppressed by them herself. They seemed a little - like the prison where she had worn them yesterday, and to be out of place - in the open fields. Carl had changed very little. His cheeks were browner - and fuller. He looked less like a tired scholar than when he went away a - year ago, but no one, even now, would have taken him for a man of - business. His soft, lustrous black eyes, his whimsical smile, would be - less against him in the Klondike than on the Divide. There are always - dreamers on the frontier. - </p> - <p> - Carl and Alexandra had been talking since morning. Her letter had never - reached him. He had first learned of her misfortune from a San Francisco - paper, four weeks old, which he had picked up in a saloon, and which - contained a brief account of Frank Shabata's trial. When he put down the - paper, he had already made up his mind that he could reach Alexandra as - quickly as a letter could; and ever since he had been on the way; day and - night, by the fastest boats and trains he could catch. His steamer had - been held back two days by rough weather. - </p> - <p> - As they came out of Mrs. Hiller's garden they took up their talk again - where they had left it. - </p> - <p> - “But could you come away like that, Carl, without arranging things? Could - you just walk off and leave your business?” Alexandra asked. - </p> - <p> - Carl laughed. “Prudent Alexandra! You see, my dear, I happen to have an - honest partner. I trust him with everything. In fact, it's been his - enterprise from the beginning, you know. I'm in it only because he took me - in. I'll have to go back in the spring. Perhaps you will want to go with - me then. We haven't turned up millions yet, but we've got a start that's - worth following. But this winter I'd like to spend with you. You won't - feel that we ought to wait longer, on Emil's account, will you, - Alexandra?” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra shook her head. “No, Carl; I don't feel that way about it. And - surely you needn't mind anything Lou and Oscar say now. They are much - angrier with me about Emil, now, than about you. They say it was all my - fault. That I ruined him by sending him to college.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don't care a button for Lou or Oscar. The moment I knew you were in - trouble, the moment I thought you might need me, it all looked different. - You've always been a triumphant kind of person.” Carl hesitated, looking - sidewise at her strong, full figure. “But you do need me now, Alexandra?” - </p> - <p> - She put her hand on his arm. “I needed you terribly when it happened, - Carl. I cried for you at night. Then everything seemed to get hard inside - of me, and I thought perhaps I should never care for you again. But when I - got your telegram yesterday, then—then it was just as it used to be. - You are all I have in the world, you know.” - </p> - <p> - Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were passing the Shabatas' empty - house now, but they avoided the orchard path and took one that led over by - the pasture pond. - </p> - <p> - “Can you understand it, Carl?” Alexandra murmured. “I have had nobody but - Ivar and Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you understand it? Could you - have believed that of Marie Tovesky? I would have been cut to pieces, - little by little, before I would have betrayed her trust in me!” - </p> - <p> - Carl looked at the shining spot of water before them. “Maybe she was cut - to pieces, too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they both did. That - was why Emil went to Mexico, of course. And he was going away again, you - tell me, though he had only been home three weeks. You remember that - Sunday when I went with Emil up to the French Church fair? I thought that - day there was some kind of feeling, something unusual, between them. I - meant to talk to you about it. But on my way back I met Lou and Oscar and - got so angry that I forgot everything else. You mustn't be hard on them, - Alexandra. Sit down here by the pond a minute. I want to tell you - something.” - </p> - <p> - They sat down on the grass-tufted bank and Carl told her how he had seen - Emil and Marie out by the pond that morning, more than a year ago, and how - young and charming and full of grace they had seemed to him. “It happens - like that in the world sometimes, Alexandra,” he added earnestly. “I've - seen it before. There are women who spread ruin around them through no - fault of theirs, just by being too beautiful, too full of life and love. - They can't help it. People come to them as people go to a warm fire in - winter. I used to feel that in her when she was a little girl. Do you - remember how all the Bohemians crowded round her in the store that day, - when she gave Emil her candy? You remember those yellow sparks in her - eyes?” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra sighed. “Yes. People couldn't help loving her. Poor Frank does, - even now, I think; though he's got himself in such a tangle that for a - long time his love has been bitterer than his hate. But if you saw there - was anything wrong, you ought to have told me, Carl.” - </p> - <p> - Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. “My dear, it was something one - felt in the air, as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in summer. I - didn't SEE anything. Simply, when I was with those two young things, I - felt my blood go quicker, I felt—how shall I say it?—an - acceleration of life. After I got away, it was all too delicate, too - intangible, to write about.” - </p> - <p> - Alexandra looked at him mournfully. “I try to be more liberal about such - things than I used to be. I try to realize that we are not all made alike. - Only, why couldn't it have been Raoul Marcel, or Jan Smirka? Why did it - have to be my boy?” - </p> - <p> - “Because he was the best there was, I suppose. They were both the best you - had here.” - </p> - <p> - The sun was dropping low in the west when the two friends rose and took - the path again. The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, the owls were - flying home to the prairie-dog town. When they came to the corner where - the pastures joined, Alexandra's twelve young colts were galloping in a - drove over the brow of the hill. - </p> - <p> - “Carl,” said Alexandra, “I should like to go up there with you in the - spring. I haven't been on the water since we crossed the ocean, when I was - a little girl. After we first came out here I used to dream sometimes - about the shipyard where father worked, and a little sort of inlet, full - of masts.” Alexandra paused. After a moment's thought she said, “But you - would never ask me to go away for good, would you?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course not, my dearest. I think I know how you feel about this country - as well as you do yourself.” Carl took her hand in both his own and - pressed it tenderly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is gone. When I was on the train - this morning, and we got near Hanover, I felt something like I did when I - drove back with Emil from the river that time, in the dry year. I was glad - to come back to it. I've lived here a long time. There is great peace - here, Carl, and freedom.... I thought when I came out of that prison, - where poor Frank is, that I should never feel free again. But I do, here.” - Alexandra took a deep breath and looked off into the red west. - </p> - <p> - “You belong to the land,” Carl murmured, “as you have always said. Now - more than ever.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, now more than ever. You remember what you once said about the - graveyard, and the old story writing itself over? Only it is we who write - it, with the best we have.” - </p> - <p> - They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, overlooking the house and - the windmill and the stables that marked the site of John Bergson's - homestead. On every side the brown waves of the earth rolled away to meet - the sky. - </p> - <p> - “Lou and Oscar can't see those things,” said Alexandra suddenly. “Suppose - I do will my land to their children, what difference will that make? The - land belongs to the future, Carl; that's the way it seems to me. How many - of the names on the county clerk's plat will be there in fifty years? I - might as well try to will the sunset over there to my brother's children. - We come and go, but the land is always here. And the people who love it - and understand it are the people who own it—for a little while.” - </p> - <p> - Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was still gazing into the west, and in - her face there was that exalted serenity that sometimes came to her at - moments of deep feeling. The level rays of the sinking sun shone in her - clear eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Why are you thinking of such things now, Alexandra?” - </p> - <p> - “I had a dream before I went to Lincoln—But I will tell you about - that afterward, after we are married. It will never come true, now, in the - way I thought it might.” She took Carl's arm and they walked toward the - gate. “How many times we have walked this path together, Carl. How many - times we will walk it again! Does it seem to you like coming back to your - own place? Do you feel at peace with the world here? I think we shall be - very happy. I haven't any fears. I think when friends marry, they are - safe. We don't suffer like—those young ones.” Alexandra ended with a - sigh. - </p> - <p> - They had reached the gate. Before Carl opened it, he drew Alexandra to him - and kissed her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. - </p> - <p> - She leaned heavily on his shoulder. “I am tired,” she murmured. “I have - been very lonely, Carl.” - </p> - <p> - They went into the house together, leaving the Divide behind them, under - the evening star. Fortunate country, that is one day to receive hearts - like Alexandra's into its bosom, to give them out again in the yellow - wheat, in the rustling corn, in the shining eyes of youth! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of O Pioneers!, by Willa Cather - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! *** - -***** This file should be named 24-h.htm or 24-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/24/ - -Produced by Martin Robb and David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of O Pioneers!, by Willa Cather</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: O Pioneers!</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Willa Cather</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 26, 1991 [eBook #24]<br /> +[Most recently updated: August 25, 2021]</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: Martin Robb and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! ***</div> + +<h1>O PIONEERS!</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Willa Sibert Cather</h2> + +<p class="letter"> +“Those fields, colored by various grain!” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>ICKIEWICZ</small> +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_PART"><b>PART I. The Wild Land</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0002">I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0003">II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0004">III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0005">IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0006">V</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_PART2"><b>PART II. Neighboring Fields</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0008">I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0009">II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0010">III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0011">IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0012">V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0013">VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0014">VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0015">VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0016">IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0017">X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0018">XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0019">XII</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_PART3"><b>PART III. Winter Memories</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0021">I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0022">II</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_PART4"><b>PART IV. The White Mulberry Tree</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0024">I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0025">II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0026">III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0027">IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0028">V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0029">VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0030">VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0031">VIII</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_PART5"><b>PART V. Alexandra</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0033">I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0034">II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0035">III</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +TO THE MEMORY OF<br/> +<big>SARAH ORNE JEWETT</big><br/> +IN WHOSE BEAUTIFUL AND DELICATE WORK<br/> +THERE IS THE PERFECTION<br/> +THAT ENDURES<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +PRAIRIE SPRING +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Evening and the flat land,<br/> +Rich and sombre and always silent;<br/> +The miles of fresh-plowed soil,<br/> +Heavy and black, full of strength and harshness;<br/> +The growing wheat, the growing weeds,<br/> +The toiling horses, the tired men;<br/> +The long empty roads,<br/> +Sullen fires of sunset, fading,<br/> +The eternal, unresponsive sky.<br/> +Against all this, Youth,<br/> +Flaming like the wild roses,<br/> +Singing like the larks over the plowed fields,<br/> +Flashing like a star out of the twilight;<br/> +Youth with its insupportable sweetness,<br/> +Its fierce necessity,<br/> +Its sharp desire,<br/> +Singing and singing,<br/> +Out of the lips of silence,<br/> +Out of the earthy dusk.<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"></a>PART I.<br/> +The Wild Land</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"></a>I</h2> + +<p> +One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, anchored on a +windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown away. A mist of fine +snowflakes was curling and eddying about the cluster of low drab buildings +huddled on the gray prairie, under a gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set +about haphazard on the tough prairie sod; some of them looked as if they had +been moved in overnight, and others as if they were straying off by themselves, +headed straight for the open plain. None of them had any appearance of +permanence, and the howling wind blew under them as well as over them. The main +street was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard, which ran from the squat red +railway station and the grain “elevator” at the north end of the +town to the lumber yard and the horse pond at the south end. On either side of +this road straggled two uneven rows of wooden buildings; the general +merchandise stores, the two banks, the drug store, the feed store, the saloon, +the post-office. The board sidewalks were gray with trampled snow, but at two +o’clock in the afternoon the shopkeepers, having come back from dinner, +were keeping well behind their frosty windows. The children were all in school, +and there was nobody abroad in the streets but a few rough-looking countrymen +in coarse overcoats, with their long caps pulled down to their noses. Some of +them had brought their wives to town, and now and then a red or a plaid shawl +flashed out of one store into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars along +the street a few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, shivered under +their blankets. About the station everything was quiet, for there would not be +another train in until night. +</p> + +<p> +On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede boy, crying +bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth coat was much too big +for him and made him look like a little old man. His shrunken brown flannel +dress had been washed many times and left a long stretch of stocking between +the hem of his skirt and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed shoes. His cap was +pulled down over his ears; his nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped and red +with cold. He cried quietly, and the few people who hurried by did not notice +him. He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to go into the store and ask for +help, so he sat wringing his long sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole +beside him, whimpering, “My kitten, oh, my kitten! Her will +fweeze!” At the top of the pole crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing +faintly and clinging desperately to the wood with her claws. The boy had been +left at the store while his sister went to the doctor’s office, and in +her absence a dog had chased his kitten up the pole. The little creature had +never been so high before, and she was too frightened to move. Her master was +sunk in despair. He was a little country boy, and this village was to him a +very strange and perplexing place, where people wore fine clothes and had hard +hearts. He always felt shy and awkward here, and wanted to hide behind things +for fear some one might laugh at him. Just now, he was too unhappy to care who +laughed. At last he seemed to see a ray of hope: his sister was coming, and he +got up and ran toward her in his heavy shoes. +</p> + +<p> +His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she walked rapidly and resolutely, as +if she knew exactly where she was going and what she was going to do next. She +wore a man’s long ulster (not as if it were an affliction, but as if it +were very comfortable and belonged to her; carried it like a young soldier), +and a round plush cap, tied down with a thick veil. She had a serious, +thoughtful face, and her clear, deep blue eyes were fixed intently on the +distance, without seeming to see anything, as if she were in trouble. She did +not notice the little boy until he pulled her by the coat. Then she stopped +short and stooped down to wipe his wet face. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. What is +the matter with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased her up +there.” His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his coat, pointed +up to the wretched little creature on the pole. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Emil! Didn’t I tell you she’d get us into trouble of +some kind, if you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, I ought to +have known better myself.” She went to the foot of the pole and held out +her arms, crying, “Kitty, kitty, kitty,” but the kitten only mewed +and faintly waved its tail. Alexandra turned away decidedly. “No, she +won’t come down. Somebody will have to go up after her. I saw the +Linstrums’ wagon in town. I’ll go and see if I can find Carl. Maybe +he can do something. Only you must stop crying, or I won’t go a step. +Where’s your comforter? Did you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold +still, till I put this on you.” +</p> + +<p> +She unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his throat. A shabby +little traveling man, who was just then coming out of the store on his way to +the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly at the shining mass of hair she bared +when she took off her veil; two thick braids, pinned about her head in the +German way, with a fringe of reddish-yellow curls blowing out from under her +cap. He took his cigar out of his mouth and held the wet end between the +fingers of his woolen glove. “My God, girl, what a head of hair!” +he exclaimed, quite innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with a glance of +Amazonian fierceness and drew in her lower lip—most unnecessary severity. +It gave the little clothing drummer such a start that he actually let his cigar +fall to the sidewalk and went off weakly in the teeth of the wind to the +saloon. His hand was still unsteady when he took his glass from the bartender. +His feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed before, but never so +mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, as if some one had taken advantage of +him. When a drummer had been knocking about in little drab towns and crawling +across the wintry country in dirty smoking-cars, was he to be blamed if, when +he chanced upon a fine human creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a +man? +</p> + +<p> +While the little drummer was drinking to recover his nerve, Alexandra hurried +to the drug store as the most likely place to find Carl Linstrum. There he was, +turning over a portfolio of chromo “studies” which the druggist +sold to the Hanover women who did china-painting. Alexandra explained her +predicament, and the boy followed her to the corner, where Emil still sat by +the pole. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot they +have some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute.” Carl thrust his +hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up the street against the +north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, slight and narrow-chested. When he +came back with the spikes, Alexandra asked him what he had done with his +overcoat. +</p> + +<p> +“I left it in the drug store. I couldn’t climb in it, anyhow. Catch +me if I fall, Emil,” he called back as he began his ascent. Alexandra +watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the ground. The kitten +would not budge an inch. Carl had to go to the very top of the pole, and then +had some difficulty in tearing her from her hold. When he reached the ground, +he handed the cat to her tearful little master. “Now go into the store +with her, Emil, and get warm.” He opened the door for the child. +“Wait a minute, Alexandra. Why can’t I drive for you as far as our +place? It’s getting colder every minute. Have you seen the doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father can’t get +better; can’t get well.” The girl’s lip trembled. She looked +fixedly up the bleak street as if she were gathering her strength to face +something, as if she were trying with all her might to grasp a situation which, +no matter how painful, must be met and dealt with somehow. The wind flapped the +skirts of her heavy coat about her. +</p> + +<p> +Carl did not say anything, but she felt his sympathy. He, too, was lonely. He +was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very quiet in all his +movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin face, and his mouth was too +sensitive for a boy’s. The lips had already a little curl of bitterness +and skepticism. The two friends stood for a few moments on the windy street +corner, not speaking a word, as two travelers, who have lost their way, +sometimes stand and admit their perplexity in silence. When Carl turned away he +said, “I’ll see to your team.” Alexandra went into the store +to have her purchases packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm before she set +out on her long cold drive. +</p> + +<p> +When she looked for Emil, she found him sitting on a step of the staircase that +led up to the clothing and carpet department. He was playing with a little +Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was tying her handkerchief over the +kitten’s head for a bonnet. Marie was a stranger in the country, having +come from Omaha with her mother to visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. She was a dark +child, with brown curly hair, like a brunette doll’s, a coaxing little +red mouth, and round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one noticed her eyes; the brown +iris had golden glints that made them look like gold-stone, or, in softer +lights, like that Colorado mineral called tiger-eye. +</p> + +<p> +The country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their shoe-tops, but +this city child was dressed in what was then called the “Kate +Greenaway” manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered full from the +yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her poke bonnet, gave her the look +of a quaint little woman. She had a white fur tippet about her neck and made no +fussy objections when Emil fingered it admiringly. Alexandra had not the heart +to take him away from so pretty a playfellow, and she let them tease the kitten +together until Joe Tovesky came in noisily and picked up his little niece, +setting her on his shoulder for every one to see. His children were all boys, +and he adored this little creature. His cronies formed a circle about him, +admiring and teasing the little girl, who took their jokes with great good +nature. They were all delighted with her, for they seldom saw so pretty and +carefully nurtured a child. They told her that she must choose one of them for +a sweetheart, and each began pressing his suit and offering her bribes; candy, +and little pigs, and spotted calves. She looked archly into the big, brown, +mustached faces, smelling of spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny +forefinger delicately over Joe’s bristly chin and said, “Here is my +sweetheart.” +</p> + +<p> +The Bohemians roared with laughter, and Marie’s uncle hugged her until +she cried, “Please don’t, Uncle Joe! You hurt me.” Each of +Joe’s friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all around, +though she did not like country candy very well. Perhaps that was why she +bethought herself of Emil. “Let me down, Uncle Joe,” she said, +“I want to give some of my candy to that nice little boy I found.” +She walked graciously over to Emil, followed by her lusty admirers, who formed +a new circle and teased the little boy until he hid his face in his +sister’s skirts, and she had to scold him for being such a baby. +</p> + +<p> +The farm people were making preparations to start for home. The women were +checking over their groceries and pinning their big red shawls about their +heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy with what money they had left, +were showing each other new boots and gloves and blue flannel shirts. Three big +Bohemians were drinking raw alcohol, tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was +said to fortify one effectually against the cold, and they smacked their lips +after each pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every other noise in the +place, and the overheated store sounded of their spirited language as it reeked +of pipe smoke, damp woolens, and kerosene. +</p> + +<p> +Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with a brass +handle. “Come,” he said, “I’ve fed and watered your +team, and the wagon is ready.” He carried Emil out and tucked him down in +the straw in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy sleepy, but he +still clung to his kitten. +</p> + +<p> +“You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. When I get +big I’ll climb and get little boys’ kittens for them,” he +murmured drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, Emil and his cat +were both fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Although it was only four o’clock, the winter day was fading. The road +led southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that glimmered in the +leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young faces that were turned mutely +toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, who seemed to be looking with such +anguished perplexity into the future; upon the sombre eyes of the boy, who +seemed already to be looking into the past. The little town behind them had +vanished as if it had never been, had fallen behind the swell of the prairie, +and the stern frozen country received them into its bosom. The homesteads were +few and far apart; here and there a windmill gaunt against the sky, a sod house +crouching in a hollow. But the great fact was the land itself, which seemed to +overwhelm the little beginnings of human society that struggled in its sombre +wastes. It was from facing this vast hardness that the boy’s mouth had +become so bitter; because he felt that men were too weak to make any mark here, +that the land wanted to be let alone, to preserve its own fierce strength, its +peculiar, savage kind of beauty, its uninterrupted mournfulness. +</p> + +<p> +The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had less to say to +each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow penetrated to their hearts. +</p> + +<p> +“Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut wood to-day?” Carl asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I’m almost sorry I let them go, it’s turned so cold. +But mother frets if the wood gets low.” She stopped and put her hand to +her forehead, brushing back her hair. “I don’t know what is to +become of us, Carl, if father has to die. I don’t dare to think about it. +I wish we could all go with him and let the grass grow back over +everything.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was the Norwegian graveyard, where the +grass had, indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy and red, hiding even the +wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a very helpful companion, but there +was nothing he could say. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, +“the boys are strong and work hard, but we’ve always depended so on +father that I don’t see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if there +were nothing to go ahead for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your father know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. I think +he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It’s a comfort to him +that my chickens are laying right on through the cold weather and bringing in a +little money. I wish we could keep his mind off such things, but I don’t +have much time to be with him now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if he’d like to have me bring my magic lantern over some +evening?” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra turned her face toward him. “Oh, Carl! Have you got it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. It’s back there in the straw. Didn’t you notice the box +I was carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, and it worked +ever so well, makes fine big pictures.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are they about?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny pictures +about cannibals. I’m going to paint some slides for it on glass, out of +the Hans Andersen book.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of the child left +in people who have had to grow up too soon. “Do bring it over, Carl. I +can hardly wait to see it, and I’m sure it will please father. Are the +pictures colored? Then I know he’ll like them. He likes the calendars I +get him in town. I wish I could get more. You must leave me here, mustn’t +you? It’s been nice to have company.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. +“It’s pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but I +think I’d better light your lantern, in case you should need it.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where he crouched +down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen trials he succeeded in +lighting the lantern, which he placed in front of Alexandra, half covering it +with a blanket so that the light would not shine in her eyes. “Now, wait +until I find my box. Yes, here it is. Good-night, Alexandra. Try not to +worry.” Carl sprang to the ground and ran off across the fields toward +the Linstrum homestead. “Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!” he called back as he +disappeared over a ridge and dropped into a sand gully. The wind answered him +like an echo, “Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!” Alexandra drove off alone. The +rattle of her wagon was lost in the howling of the wind, but her lantern, held +firmly between her feet, made a moving point of light along the highway, going +deeper and deeper into the dark country. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"></a>II</h2> + +<p> +On one of the ridges of that wintry waste stood the low log house in which John +Bergson was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier to find than many another, +because it overlooked Norway Creek, a shallow, muddy stream that sometimes +flowed, and sometimes stood still, at the bottom of a winding ravine with +steep, shelving sides overgrown with brush and cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This +creek gave a sort of identity to the farms that bordered upon it. Of all the +bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human landmarks is one +of the most depressing and disheartening. The houses on the Divide were small +and were usually tucked away in low places; you did not see them until you came +directly upon them. Most of them were built of the sod itself, and were only +the unescapable ground in another form. The roads were but faint tracks in the +grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. The record of the plow was +insignificant, like the feeble scratches on stone left by prehistoric races, so +indeterminate that they may, after all, be only the markings of glaciers, and +not a record of human strivings. +</p> + +<p> +In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression upon the wild +land he had come to tame. It was still a wild thing that had its ugly moods; +and no one knew when they were likely to come, or why. Mischance hung over it. +Its Genius was unfriendly to man. The sick man was feeling this as he lay +looking out of the window, after the doctor had left him, on the day following +Alexandra’s trip to town. There it lay outside his door, the same land, +the same lead-colored miles. He knew every ridge and draw and gully between him +and the horizon. To the south, his plowed fields; to the east, the sod stables, +the cattle corral, the pond,—and then the grass. +</p> + +<p> +Bergson went over in his mind the things that had held him back. One winter his +cattle had perished in a blizzard. The next summer one of his plow horses broke +its leg in a prairiedog hole and had to be shot. Another summer he lost his +hogs from cholera, and a valuable stallion died from a rattlesnake bite. Time +and again his crops had failed. He had lost two children, boys, that came +between Lou and Emil, and there had been the cost of sickness and death. Now, +when he had at last struggled out of debt, he was going to die himself. He was +only forty-six, and had, of course, counted upon more time. +</p> + +<p> +Bergson had spent his first five years on the Divide getting into debt, and the +last six getting out. He had paid off his mortgages and had ended pretty much +where he began, with the land. He owned exactly six hundred and forty acres of +what stretched outside his door; his own original homestead and timber claim, +making three hundred and twenty acres, and the half-section adjoining, the +homestead of a younger brother who had given up the fight, gone back to Chicago +to work in a fancy bakery and distinguish himself in a Swedish athletic club. +So far John had not attempted to cultivate the second half-section, but used it +for pasture land, and one of his sons rode herd there in open weather. +</p> + +<p> +John Bergson had the Old-World belief that land, in itself, is desirable. But +this land was an enigma. It was like a horse that no one knows how to break to +harness, that runs wild and kicks things to pieces. He had an idea that no one +understood how to farm it properly, and this he often discussed with Alexandra. +Their neighbors, certainly, knew even less about farming than he did. Many of +them had never worked on a farm until they took up their homesteads. They had +been <i>handwerkers</i> at home; tailors, locksmiths, joiners, cigar-makers, +etc. Bergson himself had worked in a shipyard. +</p> + +<p> +For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking about these things. His bed stood in +the sitting-room, next to the kitchen. Through the day, while the baking and +washing and ironing were going on, the father lay and looked up at the roof +beams that he himself had hewn, or out at the cattle in the corral. He counted +the cattle over and over. It diverted him to speculate as to how much weight +each of the steers would probably put on by spring. He often called his +daughter in to talk to her about this. Before Alexandra was twelve years old +she had begun to be a help to him, and as she grew older he had come to depend +more and more upon her resourcefulness and good judgment. His boys were willing +enough to work, but when he talked with them they usually irritated him. It was +Alexandra who read the papers and followed the markets, and who learned by the +mistakes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who could always tell about what +it had cost to fatten each steer, and who could guess the weight of a hog +before it went on the scales closer than John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar +were industrious, but he could never teach them to use their heads about their +work. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra, her father often said to himself, was like her grandfather; which +was his way of saying that she was intelligent. John Bergson’s father had +been a shipbuilder, a man of considerable force and of some fortune. Late in +life he married a second time, a Stockholm woman of questionable character, +much younger than he, who goaded him into every sort of extravagance. On the +shipbuilder’s part, this marriage was an infatuation, the despairing +folly of a powerful man who cannot bear to grow old. In a few years his +unprincipled wife warped the probity of a lifetime. He speculated, lost his own +fortune and funds entrusted to him by poor seafaring men, and died disgraced, +leaving his children nothing. But when all was said, he had come up from the +sea himself, had built up a proud little business with no capital but his own +skill and foresight, and had proved himself a man. In his daughter, John +Bergson recognized the strength of will, and the simple direct way of thinking +things out, that had characterized his father in his better days. He would much +rather, of course, have seen this likeness in one of his sons, but it was not a +question of choice. As he lay there day after day he had to accept the +situation as it was, and to be thankful that there was one among his children +to whom he could entrust the future of his family and the possibilities of his +hard-won land. +</p> + +<p> +The winter twilight was fading. The sick man heard his wife strike a match in +the kitchen, and the light of a lamp glimmered through the cracks of the door. +It seemed like a light shining far away. He turned painfully in his bed and +looked at his white hands, with all the work gone out of them. He was ready to +give up, he felt. He did not know how it had come about, but he was quite +willing to go deep under his fields and rest, where the plow could not find +him. He was tired of making mistakes. He was content to leave the tangle to +other hands; he thought of his Alexandra’s strong ones. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Dotter</i>,” he called feebly, “<i>dotter!</i>” He +heard her quick step and saw her tall figure appear in the doorway, with the +light of the lamp behind her. He felt her youth and strength, how easily she +moved and stooped and lifted. But he would not have had it again if he could, +not he! He knew the end too well to wish to begin again. He knew where it all +went to, what it all became. +</p> + +<p> +His daughter came and lifted him up on his pillows. She called him by an old +Swedish name that she used to call him when she was little and took his dinner +to him in the shipyard. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I want to speak to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are feeding the horses, father. They have just come back from the +Blue. Shall I call them?” +</p> + +<p> +He sighed. “No, no. Wait until they come in. Alexandra, you will have to +do the best you can for your brothers. Everything will come on you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will do all I can, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let them get discouraged and go off like Uncle Otto. I want +them to keep the land.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will, father. We will never lose the land.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a sound of heavy feet in the kitchen. Alexandra went to the door and +beckoned to her brothers, two strapping boys of seventeen and nineteen. They +came in and stood at the foot of the bed. Their father looked at them +searchingly, though it was too dark to see their faces; they were just the same +boys, he told himself, he had not been mistaken in them. The square head and +heavy shoulders belonged to Oscar, the elder. The younger boy was quicker, but +vacillating. +</p> + +<p> +“Boys,” said the father wearily, “I want you to keep the land +together and to be guided by your sister. I have talked to her since I have +been sick, and she knows all my wishes. I want no quarrels among my children, +and so long as there is one house there must be one head. Alexandra is the +oldest, and she knows my wishes. She will do the best she can. If she makes +mistakes, she will not make so many as I have made. When you marry, and want a +house of your own, the land will be divided fairly, according to the courts. +But for the next few years you will have it hard, and you must all keep +together. Alexandra will manage the best she can.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, replied because he was the older, +“Yes, father. It would be so anyway, without your speaking. We will all +work the place together.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will be guided by your sister, boys, and be good brothers to +her, and good sons to your mother? That is good. And Alexandra must not work in +the fields any more. There is no necessity now. Hire a man when you need help. +She can make much more with her eggs and butter than the wages of a man. It was +one of my mistakes that I did not find that out sooner. Try to break a little +more land every year; sod corn is good for fodder. Keep turning the land, and +always put up more hay than you need. Don’t grudge your mother a little +time for plowing her garden and setting out fruit trees, even if it comes in a +busy season. She has been a good mother to you, and she has always missed the +old country.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +When they went back to the kitchen the boys sat down silently at the table. +Throughout the meal they looked down at their plates and did not lift their red +eyes. They did not eat much, although they had been working in the cold all +day, and there was a rabbit stewed in gravy for supper, and prune pies. +</p> + +<p> +John Bergson had married beneath him, but he had married a good housewife. Mrs. +Bergson was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy and placid like her son, +Oscar, but there was something comfortable about her; perhaps it was her own +love of comfort. For eleven years she had worthily striven to maintain some +semblance of household order amid conditions that made order very difficult. +Habit was very strong with Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting efforts to repeat +the routine of her old life among new surroundings had done a great deal to +keep the family from disintegrating morally and getting careless in their ways. +The Bergsons had a log house, for instance, only because Mrs. Bergson would not +live in a sod house. She missed the fish diet of her own country, and twice +every summer she sent the boys to the river, twenty miles to the southward, to +fish for channel cat. When the children were little she used to load them all +into the wagon, the baby in its crib, and go fishing herself. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra often said that if her mother were cast upon a desert island, she +would thank God for her deliverance, make a garden, and find something to +preserve. Preserving was almost a mania with Mrs. Bergson. Stout as she was, +she roamed the scrubby banks of Norway Creek looking for fox grapes and goose +plums, like a wild creature in search of prey. She made a yellow jam of the +insipid ground-cherries that grew on the prairie, flavoring it with lemon peel; +and she made a sticky dark conserve of garden tomatoes. She had experimented +even with the rank buffalo-pea, and she could not see a fine bronze cluster of +them without shaking her head and murmuring, “What a pity!” When +there was nothing more to preserve, she began to pickle. The amount of sugar +she used in these processes was sometimes a serious drain upon the family +resources. She was a good mother, but she was glad when her children were old +enough not to be in her way in the kitchen. She had never quite forgiven John +Bergson for bringing her to the end of the earth; but, now that she was there, +she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct her old life in so far as that was +possible. She could still take some comfort in the world if she had bacon in +the cave, glass jars on the shelves, and sheets in the press. She disapproved +of all her neighbors because of their slovenly housekeeping, and the women +thought her very proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on her way to Norway Creek, +stopped to see old Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in the haymow “for fear +Mis’ Bergson would catch her barefoot.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"></a>III</h2> + +<p> +One Sunday afternoon in July, six months after John Bergson’s death, Carl +was sitting in the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming over an +illustrated paper, when he heard the rattle of a wagon along the hill road. +Looking up he recognized the Bergsons’ team, with two seats in the wagon, +which meant they were off for a pleasure excursion. Oscar and Lou, on the front +seat, wore their cloth hats and coats, never worn except on Sundays, and Emil, +on the second seat with Alexandra, sat proudly in his new trousers, made from a +pair of his father’s, and a pink-striped shirt, with a wide ruffled +collar. Oscar stopped the horses and waved to Carl, who caught up his hat and +ran through the melon patch to join them. +</p> + +<p> +“Want to go with us?” Lou called. “We’re going to Crazy +Ivar’s to buy a hammock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure.” Carl ran up panting, and clambering over the wheel sat down +beside Emil. “I’ve always wanted to see Ivar’s pond. They say +it’s the biggest in all the country. Aren’t you afraid to go to +Ivar’s in that new shirt, Emil? He might want it and take it right off +your back.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil grinned. “I’d be awful scared to go,” he admitted, +“if you big boys weren’t along to take care of me. Did you ever +hear him howl, Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the country howling at +night because he is afraid the Lord will destroy him. Mother thinks he must +have done something awful wicked.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou looked back and winked at Carl. “What would you do, Emil, if you was +out on the prairie by yourself and seen him coming?” +</p> + +<p> +Emil stared. “Maybe I could hide in a badger-hole,” he suggested +doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“But suppose there wasn’t any badger-hole,” Lou persisted. +“Would you run?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’d be too scared to run,” Emil admitted mournfully, +twisting his fingers. “I guess I’d sit right down on the ground and +say my prayers.” +</p> + +<p> +The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished his whip over the broad backs of the +horses. +</p> + +<p> +“He wouldn’t hurt you, Emil,” said Carl persuasively. +“He came to doctor our mare when she ate green corn and swelled up most +as big as the water-tank. He petted her just like you do your cats. I +couldn’t understand much he said, for he don’t talk any English, +but he kept patting her and groaning as if he had the pain himself, and saying, +‘There now, sister, that’s easier, that’s +better!’” +</p> + +<p> +Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled delightedly and looked up at his +sister. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think he knows anything at all about doctoring,” +said Oscar scornfully. “They say when horses have distemper he takes the +medicine himself, and then prays over the horses.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra spoke up. “That’s what the Crows said, but he cured their +horses, all the same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. But if you can get +him on a clear day, you can learn a great deal from him. He understands +animals. Didn’t I see him take the horn off the Berquist’s cow when +she had torn it loose and went crazy? She was tearing all over the place, +knocking herself against things. And at last she ran out on the roof of the old +dugout and her legs went through and there she stuck, bellowing. Ivar came +running with his white bag, and the moment he got to her she was quiet and let +him saw her horn off and daub the place with tar.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil had been watching his sister, his face reflecting the sufferings of the +cow. “And then didn’t it hurt her any more?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra patted him. “No, not any more. And in two days they could use +her milk again.” +</p> + +<p> +The road to Ivar’s homestead was a very poor one. He had settled in the +rough country across the county line, where no one lived but some +Russians,—half a dozen families who dwelt together in one long house, +divided off like barracks. Ivar had explained his choice by saying that the +fewer neighbors he had, the fewer temptations. Nevertheless, when one +considered that his chief business was horse-doctoring, it seemed rather +short-sighted of him to live in the most inaccessible place he could find. The +Bergson wagon lurched along over the rough hummocks and grass banks, followed +the bottom of winding draws, or skirted the margin of wide lagoons, where the +golden coreopsis grew up out of the clear water and the wild ducks rose with a +whirr of wings. +</p> + +<p> +Lou looked after them helplessly. “I wish I’d brought my gun, +anyway, Alexandra,” he said fretfully. “I could have hidden it +under the straw in the bottom of the wagon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we’d have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, they say he can smell +dead birds. And if he knew, we wouldn’t get anything out of him, not even +a hammock. I want to talk to him, and he won’t talk sense if he’s +angry. It makes him foolish.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou sniffed. “Whoever heard of him talking sense, anyhow! I’d +rather have ducks for supper than Crazy Ivar’s tongue.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil was alarmed. “Oh, but, Lou, you don’t want to make him mad! He +might howl!” +</p> + +<p> +They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the horses up the crumbling side of a +clay bank. They had left the lagoons and the red grass behind them. In Crazy +Ivar’s country the grass was short and gray, the draws deeper than they +were in the Bergsons’ neighborhood, and the land was all broken up into +hillocks and clay ridges. The wild flowers disappeared, and only in the bottom +of the draws and gullies grew a few of the very toughest and hardiest: +shoestring, and ironweed, and snow-on-the-mountain. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, look, Emil, there’s Ivar’s big pond!” Alexandra +pointed to a shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. +At one end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow bushes, +and above it a door and a single window were set into the hillside. You would +not have seen them at all but for the reflection of the sunlight upon the four +panes of window-glass. And that was all you saw. Not a shed, not a corral, not +a well, not even a path broken in the curly grass. But for the piece of rusty +stovepipe sticking up through the sod, you could have walked over the roof of +Ivar’s dwelling without dreaming that you were near a human habitation. +Ivar had lived for three years in the clay bank, without defiling the face of +nature any more than the coyote that had lived there before him had done. +</p> + +<p> +When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar was sitting in the doorway of his +house, reading the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly shaped old man, with a +thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs. His shaggy white hair, falling in a +thick mane about his ruddy cheeks, made him look older than he was. He was +barefoot, but he wore a clean shirt of unbleached cotton, open at the neck. He +always put on a clean shirt when Sunday morning came round, though he never +went to church. He had a peculiar religion of his own and could not get on with +any of the denominations. Often he did not see anybody from one week’s +end to another. He kept a calendar, and every morning he checked off a day, so +that he was never in any doubt as to which day of the week it was. Ivar hired +himself out in threshing and corn-husking time, and he doctored sick animals +when he was sent for. When he was at home, he made hammocks out of twine and +committed chapters of the Bible to memory. +</p> + +<p> +Ivar found contentment in the solitude he had sought out for himself. He +disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the bits of broken +china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown into the sunflower patch. He +preferred the cleanness and tidiness of the wild sod. He always said that the +badgers had cleaner houses than people, and that when he took a housekeeper her +name would be Mrs. Badger. He best expressed his preference for his wild +homestead by saying that his Bible seemed truer to him there. If one stood in +the doorway of his cave, and looked off at the rough land, the smiling sky, the +curly grass white in the hot sunlight; if one listened to the rapturous song of +the lark, the drumming of the quail, the burr of the locust against that vast +silence, one understood what Ivar meant. +</p> + +<p> +On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with happiness. He closed the book on +his knee, keeping the place with his horny finger, and repeated softly:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills;<br/> +They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench their +thirst.<br/> +The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which he hath +planted;<br/> +Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees are her +house.<br/> +The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for the conies. +</p> + +<p> +Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard the Bergsons’ wagon +approaching, and he sprang up and ran toward it. +</p> + +<p> +“No guns, no guns!” he shouted, waving his arms distractedly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Ivar, no guns,” Alexandra called reassuringly. +</p> + +<p> +He dropped his arms and went up to the wagon, smiling amiably and looking at +them out of his pale blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“We want to buy a hammock, if you have one,” Alexandra explained, +“and my little brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where so many +birds come.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the horses’ noses and feeling +about their mouths behind the bits. “Not many birds just now. A few ducks +this morning; and some snipe come to drink. But there was a crane last week. +She spent one night and came back the next evening. I don’t know why. It +is not her season, of course. Many of them go over in the fall. Then the pond +is full of strange voices every night.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked thoughtful. “Ask him, +Alexandra, if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have heard +so.” +</p> + +<p> +She had some difficulty in making the old man understand. +</p> + +<p> +He looked puzzled at first, then smote his hands together as he remembered. +“Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and pink feet. My! what a +voice she had! She came in the afternoon and kept flying about the pond and +screaming until dark. She was in trouble of some sort, but I could not +understand her. She was going over to the other ocean, maybe, and did not know +how far it was. She was afraid of never getting there. She was more mournful +than our birds here; she cried in the night. She saw the light from my window +and darted up to it. Maybe she thought my house was a boat, she was such a wild +thing. Next morning, when the sun rose, I went out to take her food, but she +flew up into the sky and went on her way.” Ivar ran his fingers through +his thick hair. “I have many strange birds stop with me here. They come +from very far away and are great company. I hope you boys never shoot wild +birds?” +</p> + +<p> +Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his bushy head. “Yes, I know boys +are thoughtless. But these wild things are God’s birds. He watches over +them and counts them, as we do our cattle; Christ says so in the New +Testament.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Ivar,” Lou asked, “may we water our horses at your pond +and give them some feed? It’s a bad road to your place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, it is.” The old man scrambled about and began to loose +the tugs. “A bad road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at home!” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar brushed the old man aside. “We’ll take care of the horses, +Ivar. You’ll be finding some disease on them. Alexandra wants to see your +hammocks.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little cave house. He had but one room, +neatly plastered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden floor. There was a +kitchen stove, a table covered with oilcloth, two chairs, a clock, a calendar, +a few books on the window-shelf; nothing more. But the place was as clean as a +cupboard. +</p> + +<p> +“But where do you sleep, Ivar?” Emil asked, looking about. +</p> + +<p> +Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the wall; in it was rolled a buffalo +robe. “There, my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in winter I wrap up in +this skin. Where I go to work, the beds are not half so easy as this.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. He thought a cave a very superior +kind of house. There was something pleasantly unusual about it and about Ivar. +“Do the birds know you will be kind to them, Ivar? Is that why so many +come?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his feet under him. “See, little +brother, they have come from a long way, and they are very tired. From up there +where they are flying, our country looks dark and flat. They must have water to +drink and to bathe in before they can go on with their journey. They look this +way and that, and far below them they see something shining, like a piece of +glass set in the dark earth. That is my pond. They come to it and are not +disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a little corn. They tell the other birds, and next +year more come this way. They have their roads up there, as we have down +here.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. “And is that true, Ivar, about the +head ducks falling back when they are tired, and the hind ones taking their +place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst of it; they cut the wind. +They can only stand it there a little while—half an hour, maybe. Then +they fall back and the wedge splits a little, while the rear ones come up the +middle to the front. Then it closes up and they fly on, with a new edge. They +are always changing like that, up in the air. Never any confusion; just like +soldiers who have been drilled.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra had selected her hammock by the time the boys came up from the pond. +They would not come in, but sat in the shade of the bank outside while +Alexandra and Ivar talked about the birds and about his housekeeping, and why +he never ate meat, fresh or salt. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, her arms resting on the +table. Ivar was sitting on the floor at her feet. “Ivar,” she said +suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the oilcloth with her forefinger, +“I came to-day more because I wanted to talk to you than because I wanted +to buy a hammock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” The old man scraped his bare feet on the plank floor. +</p> + +<p> +“We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I wouldn’t sell in the spring, +when everybody advised me to, and now so many people are losing their hogs that +I am frightened. What can be done?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar’s little eyes began to shine. They lost their vagueness. +</p> + +<p> +“You feed them swill and such stuff? Of course! And sour milk? Oh, yes! +And keep them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, the hogs of this country +are put upon! They become unclean, like the hogs in the Bible. If you kept your +chickens like that, what would happen? You have a little sorghum patch, maybe? +Put a fence around it, and turn the hogs in. Build a shed to give them shade, a +thatch on poles. Let the boys haul water to them in barrels, clean water, and +plenty. Get them off the old stinking ground, and do not let them go back there +until winter. Give them only grain and clean feed, such as you would give +horses or cattle. Hogs do not like to be filthy.” +</p> + +<p> +The boys outside the door had been listening. Lou nudged his brother. +“Come, the horses are done eating. Let’s hitch up and get out of +here. He’ll fill her full of notions. She’ll be for having the pigs +sleep with us, next.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could not understand what Ivar said, saw +that the two boys were displeased. They did not mind hard work, but they hated +experiments and could never see the use of taking pains. Even Lou, who was more +elastic than his older brother, disliked to do anything different from their +neighbors. He felt that it made them conspicuous and gave people a chance to +talk about them. +</p> + +<p> +Once they were on the homeward road, the boys forgot their ill-humor and joked +about Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose any reforms in the care of +the pigs, and they hoped she had forgotten Ivar’s talk. They agreed that +he was crazier than ever, and would never be able to prove up on his land +because he worked it so little. Alexandra privately resolved that she would +have a talk with Ivar about this and stir him up. The boys persuaded Carl to +stay for supper and go swimming in the pasture pond after dark. +</p> + +<p> +That evening, after she had washed the supper dishes, Alexandra sat down on the +kitchen doorstep, while her mother was mixing the bread. It was a still, +deep-breathing summer night, full of the smell of the hay fields. Sounds of +laughter and splashing came up from the pasture, and when the moon rose rapidly +above the bare rim of the prairie, the pond glittered like polished metal, and +she could see the flash of white bodies as the boys ran about the edge, or +jumped into the water. Alexandra watched the shimmering pool dreamily, but +eventually her eyes went back to the sorghum patch south of the barn, where she +was planning to make her new pig corral. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"></a>IV</h2> + +<p> +For the first three years after John Bergson’s death, the affairs of his +family prospered. Then came the hard times that brought every one on the Divide +to the brink of despair; three years of drouth and failure, the last struggle +of a wild soil against the encroaching plowshare. The first of these fruitless +summers the Bergson boys bore courageously. The failure of the corn crop made +labor cheap. Lou and Oscar hired two men and put in bigger crops than ever +before. They lost everything they spent. The whole country was discouraged. +Farmers who were already in debt had to give up their land. A few foreclosures +demoralized the county. The settlers sat about on the wooden sidewalks in the +little town and told each other that the country was never meant for men to +live in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, to Illinois, to any place +that had been proved habitable. The Bergson boys, certainly, would have been +happier with their uncle Otto, in the bakery shop in Chicago. Like most of +their neighbors, they were meant to follow in paths already marked out for +them, not to break trails in a new country. A steady job, a few holidays, +nothing to think about, and they would have been very happy. It was no fault of +theirs that they had been dragged into the wilderness when they were little +boys. A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of +things more than the things themselves. +</p> + +<p> +The second of these barren summers was passing. One September afternoon +Alexandra had gone over to the garden across the draw to dig sweet +potatoes—they had been thriving upon the weather that was fatal to +everything else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the garden rows to find her, +she was not working. She was standing lost in thought, leaning upon her +pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying beside her on the ground. The dry garden patch +smelled of drying vines and was strewn with yellow seed-cucumbers and pumpkins +and citrons. At one end, next the rhubarb, grew feathery asparagus, with red +berries. Down the middle of the garden was a row of gooseberry and currant +bushes. A few tough zenias and marigolds and a row of scarlet sage bore witness +to the buckets of water that Mrs. Bergson had carried there after sundown, +against the prohibition of her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the garden +path, looking intently at Alexandra. She did not hear him. She was standing +perfectly still, with that serious ease so characteristic of her. Her thick, +reddish braids, twisted about her head, fairly burned in the sunlight. The air +was cool enough to make the warm sun pleasant on one’s back and +shoulders, and so clear that the eye could follow a hawk up and up, into the +blazing blue depths of the sky. Even Carl, never a very cheerful boy, and +considerably darkened by these last two bitter years, loved the country on days +like this, felt something strong and young and wild come out of it, that +laughed at care. +</p> + +<p> +“Alexandra,” he said as he approached her, “I want to talk to +you. Let’s sit down by the gooseberry bushes.” He picked up her +sack of potatoes and they crossed the garden. “Boys gone to town?” +he asked as he sank down on the warm, sun-baked earth. “Well, we have +made up our minds at last, Alexandra. We are really going away.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him as if she were a little frightened. “Really, Carl? Is +it settled?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and they will give him back his +old job in the cigar factory. He must be there by the first of November. They +are taking on new men then. We will sell the place for whatever we can get, and +auction the stock. We haven’t enough to ship. I am going to learn +engraving with a German engraver there, and then try to get work in +Chicago.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra’s hands dropped in her lap. Her eyes became dreamy and filled +with tears. +</p> + +<p> +Carl’s sensitive lower lip trembled. He scratched in the soft earth +beside him with a stick. “That’s all I hate about it, +Alexandra,” he said slowly. “You’ve stood by us through so +much and helped father out so many times, and now it seems as if we were +running off and leaving you to face the worst of it. But it isn’t as if +we could really ever be of any help to you. We are only one more drag, one more +thing you look out for and feel responsible for. Father was never meant for a +farmer, you know that. And I hate it. We’d only get in deeper and +deeper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting your life here. You are able to +do much better things. You are nearly nineteen now, and I wouldn’t have +you stay. I’ve always hoped you would get away. But I can’t help +feeling scared when I think how I will miss you—more than you will ever +know.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks, not trying to hide them. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Alexandra,” he said sadly and wistfully, “I’ve +never been any real help to you, beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in a +good humor.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra smiled and shook her head. “Oh, it’s not that. Nothing +like that. It’s by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, that +you’ve helped me. I expect that is the only way one person ever really +can help another. I think you are about the only one that ever helped me. +Somehow it will take more courage to bear your going than everything that has +happened before.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl looked at the ground. “You see, we’ve all depended so on +you,” he said, “even father. He makes me laugh. When anything comes +up he always says, ‘I wonder what the Bergsons are going to do about +that? I guess I’ll go and ask her.’ I’ll never forget that +time, when we first came here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran over to +your place—your father was away, and you came home with me and showed +father how to let the wind out of the horse. You were only a little girl then, +but you knew ever so much more about farm work than poor father. You remember +how homesick I used to get, and what long talks we used to have coming from +school? We’ve someway always felt alike about things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s it; we’ve liked the same things and we’ve +liked them together, without anybody else knowing. And we’ve had good +times, hunting for Christmas trees and going for ducks and making our plum wine +together every year. We’ve never either of us had any other close friend. +And now—” Alexandra wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, +“and now I must remember that you are going where you will have many +friends, and will find the work you were meant to do. But you’ll write to +me, Carl? That will mean a great deal to me here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll write as long as I live,” cried the boy impetuously. +“And I’ll be working for you as much as for myself, Alexandra. I +want to do something you’ll like and be proud of. I’m a fool here, +but I know I can do something!” He sat up and frowned at the red grass. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra sighed. “How discouraged the boys will be when they hear. They +always come home from town discouraged, anyway. So many people are trying to +leave the country, and they talk to our boys and make them low-spirited. +I’m afraid they are beginning to feel hard toward me because I +won’t listen to any talk about going. Sometimes I feel like I’m +getting tired of standing up for this country.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t tell the boys yet, if you’d rather not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’ll tell them myself, to-night, when they come home. +They’ll be talking wild, anyway, and no good comes of keeping bad news. +It’s all harder on them than it is on me. Lou wants to get married, poor +boy, and he can’t until times are better. See, there goes the sun, Carl. +I must be getting back. Mother will want her potatoes. It’s chilly +already, the moment the light goes.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden afterglow throbbed in the west, but +the country already looked empty and mournful. A dark moving mass came over the +western hill, the Lee boy was bringing in the herd from the other half-section. +Emil ran from the windmill to open the corral gate. From the log house, on the +little rise across the draw, the smoke was curling. The cattle lowed and +bellowed. In the sky the pale half-moon was slowly silvering. Alexandra and +Carl walked together down the potato rows. “I have to keep telling myself +what is going to happen,” she said softly. “Since you have been +here, ten years now, I have never really been lonely. But I can remember what +it was like before. Now I shall have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and he +is tender-hearted.” +</p> + +<p> +That night, when the boys were called to supper, they sat down moodily. They +had worn their coats to town, but they ate in their striped shirts and +suspenders. They were grown men now, and, as Alexandra said, for the last few +years they had been growing more and more like themselves. Lou was still the +slighter of the two, the quicker and more intelligent, but apt to go off at +half-cock. He had a lively blue eye, a thin, fair skin (always burned red to +the neckband of his shirt in summer), stiff, yellow hair that would not lie +down on his head, and a bristly little yellow mustache, of which he was very +proud. Oscar could not grow a mustache; his pale face was as bare as an egg, +and his white eyebrows gave it an empty look. He was a man of powerful body and +unusual endurance; the sort of man you could attach to a corn-sheller as you +would an engine. He would turn it all day, without hurrying, without slowing +down. But he was as indolent of mind as he was unsparing of his body. His love +of routine amounted to a vice. He worked like an insect, always doing the same +thing over in the same way, regardless of whether it was best or no. He felt +that there was a sovereign virtue in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to +do things in the hardest way. If a field had once been in corn, he +couldn’t bear to put it into wheat. He liked to begin his corn-planting +at the same time every year, whether the season were backward or forward. He +seemed to feel that by his own irreproachable regularity he would clear himself +of blame and reprove the weather. When the wheat crop failed, he threshed the +straw at a dead loss to demonstrate how little grain there was, and thus prove +his case against Providence. +</p> + +<p> +Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and flighty; always planned to get through +two days’ work in one, and often got only the least important things +done. He liked to keep the place up, but he never got round to doing odd jobs +until he had to neglect more pressing work to attend to them. In the middle of +the wheat harvest, when the grain was over-ripe and every hand was needed, he +would stop to mend fences or to patch the harness; then dash down to the field +and overwork and be laid up in bed for a week. The two boys balanced each +other, and they pulled well together. They had been good friends since they +were children. One seldom went anywhere, even to town, without the other. +</p> + +<p> +To-night, after they sat down to supper, Oscar kept looking at Lou as if he +expected him to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes and frowned at his +plate. It was Alexandra herself who at last opened the discussion. +</p> + +<p> +“The Linstrums,” she said calmly, as she put another plate of hot +biscuit on the table, “are going back to St. Louis. The old man is going +to work in the cigar factory again.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Lou plunged in. “You see, Alexandra, everybody who can crawl out +is going away. There’s no use of us trying to stick it out, just to be +stubborn. There’s something in knowing when to quit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you want to go, Lou?” +</p> + +<p> +“Any place where things will grow,” said Oscar grimly. +</p> + +<p> +Lou reached for a potato. “Chris Arnson has traded his half-section for a +place down on the river.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who did he trade with?” +</p> + +<p> +“Charley Fuller, in town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, that Fuller has a head on him. +He’s buying and trading for every bit of land he can get up here. +It’ll make him a rich man, some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s rich now, that’s why he can take a chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why can’t we? We’ll live longer than he will. Some day the +land itself will be worth more than all we can ever raise on it.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou laughed. “It could be worth that, and still not be worth much. Why, +Alexandra, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Our place +wouldn’t bring now what it would six years ago. The fellows that settled +up here just made a mistake. Now they’re beginning to see this high land +wasn’t never meant to grow nothing on, and everybody who ain’t +fixed to graze cattle is trying to crawl out. It’s too high to farm up +here. All the Americans are skinning out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, +told me that he was going to let Fuller take his land and stuff for four +hundred dollars and a ticket to Chicago.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Fuller again!” Alexandra exclaimed. “I wish +that man would take me for a partner. He’s feathering his nest! If only +poor people could learn a little from rich people! But all these fellows who +are running off are bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. They couldn’t +get ahead even in good years, and they all got into debt while father was +getting out. I think we ought to hold on as long as we can on father’s +account. He was so set on keeping this land. He must have seen harder times +than this, here. How was it in the early days, mother?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These family discussions always depressed +her, and made her remember all that she had been torn away from. “I +don’t see why the boys are always taking on about going away,” she +said, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want to move again; out to some raw +place, maybe, where we’d be worse off than we are here, and all to do +over again. I won’t move! If the rest of you go, I will ask some of the +neighbors to take me in, and stay and be buried by father. I’m not going +to leave him by himself on the prairie, for cattle to run over.” She +began to cry more bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a soothing hand on her mother’s +shoulder. “There’s no question of that, mother. You don’t +have to go if you don’t want to. A third of the place belongs to you by +American law, and we can’t sell without your consent. We only want you to +advise us. How did it use to be when you and father first came? Was it really +as bad as this, or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, worse! Much worse,” moaned Mrs. Bergson. “Drouth, +chince-bugs, hail, everything! My garden all cut to pieces like sauerkraut. No +grapes on the creek, no nothing. The people all lived just like coyotes.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. Lou followed him. They felt that +Alexandra had taken an unfair advantage in turning their mother loose on them. +The next morning they were silent and reserved. They did not offer to take the +women to church, but went down to the barn immediately after breakfast and +stayed there all day. When Carl Linstrum came over in the afternoon, Alexandra +winked to him and pointed toward the barn. He understood her and went down to +play cards with the boys. They believed that a very wicked thing to do on +Sunday, and it relieved their feelings. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Bergson always took a +nap, and Alexandra read. During the week she read only the newspaper, but on +Sunday, and in the long evenings of winter, she read a good deal; read a few +things over a great many times. She knew long portions of the “Frithjof +Saga” by heart, and, like most Swedes who read at all, she was fond of +Longfellow’s verse,—the ballads and the “Golden Legend” +and “The Spanish Student.” To-day she sat in the wooden +rocking-chair with the Swedish Bible open on her knees, but she was not +reading. She was looking thoughtfully away at the point where the upland road +disappeared over the rim of the prairie. Her body was in an attitude of perfect +repose, such as it was apt to take when she was thinking earnestly. Her mind +was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not the least spark of cleverness. +</p> + +<p> +All afternoon the sitting-room was full of quiet and sunlight. Emil was making +rabbit traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were clucking and scratching brown +holes in the flower beds, and the wind was teasing the prince’s feather +by the door. +</p> + +<p> +That evening Carl came in with the boys to supper. +</p> + +<p> +“Emil,” said Alexandra, when they were all seated at the table, +“how would you like to go traveling? Because I am going to take a trip, +and you can go with me if you want to.” +</p> + +<p> +The boys looked up in amazement; they were always afraid of Alexandra’s +schemes. Carl was interested. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been thinking, boys,” she went on, “that maybe I +am too set against making a change. I’m going to take Brigham and the +buckboard to-morrow and drive down to the river country and spend a few days +looking over what they’ve got down there. If I find anything good, you +boys can go down and make a trade.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody down there will trade for anything up here,” said Oscar +gloomily. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just what I want to find out. Maybe they are just as +discontented down there as we are up here. Things away from home often look +better than they are. You know what your Hans Andersen book says, Carl, about +the Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and the Danes liking to buy Swedish +bread, because people always think the bread of another country is better than +their own. Anyway, I’ve heard so much about the river farms, I +won’t be satisfied till I’ve seen for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou fidgeted. “Look out! Don’t agree to anything. Don’t let +them fool you.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not yet learned to keep away from the +shell-game wagons that followed the circus. +</p> + +<p> +After supper Lou put on a necktie and went across the fields to court Annie +Lee, and Carl and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, while Alexandra read +“The Swiss Family Robinson” aloud to her mother and Emil. It was +not long before the two boys at the table neglected their game to listen. They +were all big children together, and they found the adventures of the family in +the tree house so absorbing that they gave them their undivided attention. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"></a>V</h2> + +<p> +Alexandra and Emil spent five days down among the river farms, driving up and +down the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about their crops and to the women +about their poultry. She spent a whole day with one young farmer who had been +away at school, and who was experimenting with a new kind of clover hay. She +learned a great deal. As they drove along, she and Emil talked and planned. At +last, on the sixth day, Alexandra turned Brigham’s head northward and +left the river behind. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing in it for us down there, Emil. There are a few +fine farms, but they are owned by the rich men in town, and couldn’t be +bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. They can always scrape along down +there, but they can never do anything big. Down there they have a little +certainty, but up with us there is a big chance. We must have faith in the high +land, Emil. I want to hold on harder than ever, and when you’re a man +you’ll thank me.” She urged Brigham forward. +</p> + +<p> +When the road began to climb the first long swells of the Divide, Alexandra +hummed an old Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his sister looked so happy. +Her face was so radiant that he felt shy about asking her. For the first time, +perhaps, since that land emerged from the waters of geologic ages, a human face +was set toward it with love and yearning. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and +strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it, until her tears +blinded her. Then the Genius of the Divide, the great, free spirit which +breathes across it, must have bent lower than it ever bent to a human will +before. The history of every country begins in the heart of a man or a woman. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. That evening she held a family council +and told her brothers all that she had seen and heard. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you boys to go down yourselves and look it over. Nothing will +convince you like seeing with your own eyes. The river land was settled before +this, and so they are a few years ahead of us, and have learned more about +farming. The land sells for three times as much as this, but in five years we +will double it. The rich men down there own all the best land, and they are +buying all they can get. The thing to do is to sell our cattle and what little +old corn we have, and buy the Linstrum place. Then the next thing to do is to +take out two loans on our half-sections, and buy Peter Crow’s place; +raise every dollar we can, and buy every acre we can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mortgage the homestead again?” Lou cried. He sprang up and began +to wind the clock furiously. “I won’t slave to pay off another +mortgage. I’ll never do it. You’d just as soon kill us all, +Alexandra, to carry out some scheme!” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. “How do you propose to pay off your +mortgages?” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra looked from one to the other and bit her lip. They had never seen her +so nervous. “See here,” she brought out at last. “We borrow +the money for six years. Well, with the money we buy a half-section from +Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter from Struble, maybe. That will +give us upwards of fourteen hundred acres, won’t it? You won’t have +to pay off your mortgages for six years. By that time, any of this land will be +worth thirty dollars an acre—it will be worth fifty, but we’ll say +thirty; then you can sell a garden patch anywhere, and pay off a debt of +sixteen hundred dollars. It’s not the principal I’m worried about, +it’s the interest and taxes. We’ll have to strain to meet the +payments. But as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can sit down here ten +years from now independent landowners, not struggling farmers any longer. The +chance that father was always looking for has come.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou was pacing the floor. “But how do you <i>know</i> that land is going +to go up enough to pay the mortgages and—” +</p> + +<p> +“And make us rich besides?” Alexandra put in firmly. “I +can’t explain that, Lou. You’ll have to take my word for it. I +<i>know</i>, that’s all. When you drive about over the country you can +feel it coming.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, his hands hanging between his +knees. “But we can’t work so much land,” he said dully, as if +he were talking to himself. “We can’t even try. It would just lie +there and we’d work ourselves to death.” He sighed, and laid his +calloused fist on the table. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra’s eyes filled with tears. She put her hand on his shoulder. +“You poor boy, you won’t have to work it. The men in town who are +buying up other people’s land don’t try to farm it. They are the +men to watch, in a new country. Let’s try to do like the shrewd ones, and +not like these stupid fellows. I don’t want you boys always to have to +work like this. I want you to be independent, and Emil to go to school.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou held his head as if it were splitting. “Everybody will say we are +crazy. It must be crazy, or everybody would be doing it.” +</p> + +<p> +“If they were, we wouldn’t have much chance. No, Lou, I was talking +about that with the smart young man who is raising the new kind of clover. He +says the right thing is usually just what everybody don’t do. Why are we +better fixed than any of our neighbors? Because father had more brains. Our +people were better people than these in the old country. We <i>ought</i> to do +more than they do, and see further ahead. Yes, mother, I’m going to clear +the table now.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable to see to the stock, and they were +gone a long while. When they came back Lou played on his <i>dragharmonika</i> +and Oscar sat figuring at his father’s secretary all evening. They said +nothing more about Alexandra’s project, but she felt sure now that they +would consent to it. Just before bedtime Oscar went out for a pail of water. +When he did not come back, Alexandra threw a shawl over her head and ran down +the path to the windmill. She found him sitting there with his head in his +hands, and she sat down beside him. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, Oscar,” she +whispered. She waited a moment, but he did not stir. “I won’t say +any more about it, if you’d rather not. What makes you so +discouraged?” +</p> + +<p> +“I dread signing my name to them pieces of paper,” he said slowly. +“All the time I was a boy we had a mortgage hanging over us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then don’t sign one. I don’t want you to, if you feel that +way.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar shook his head. “No, I can see there’s a chance that way. +I’ve thought a good while there might be. We’re in so deep now, we +might as well go deeper. But it’s hard work pulling out of debt. Like +pulling a threshing-machine out of the mud; breaks your back. Me and +Lou’s worked hard, and I can’t see it’s got us ahead +much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody knows about that as well as I do, Oscar. That’s why I want +to try an easier way. I don’t want you to have to grub for every +dollar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it’ll come out right. But signing +papers is signing papers. There ain’t no maybe about that.” He took +his pail and trudged up the path to the house. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against the frame +of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so keenly through the frosty +autumn air. She always loved to watch them, to think of their vastness and +distance, and of their ordered march. It fortified her to reflect upon the +great operations of nature, and when she thought of the law that lay behind +them, she felt a sense of personal security. That night she had a new +consciousness of the country, felt almost a new relation to it. Even her talk +with the boys had not taken away the feeling that had overwhelmed her when she +drove back to the Divide that afternoon. She had never known before how much +the country meant to her. The chirping of the insects down in the long grass +had been like the sweetest music. She had felt as if her heart were hiding down +there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and all the little wild things +that crooned or buzzed in the sun. Under the long shaggy ridges, she felt the +future stirring. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"></a>PART II.<br/> +Neighboring Fields</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"></a>I</h2> + +<p> +IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. His wife now lies beside him, and +the white shaft that marks their graves gleams across the wheat-fields. Could +he rise from beneath it, he would not know the country under which he has been +asleep. The shaggy coat of the prairie, which they lifted to make him a bed, +has vanished forever. From the Norwegian graveyard one looks out over a vast +checker-board, marked off in squares of wheat and corn; light and dark, dark +and light. Telephone wires hum along the white roads, which always run at right +angles. From the graveyard gate one can count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; +the gilded weather-vanes on the big red barns wink at each other across the +green and brown and yellow fields. The light steel windmills tremble throughout +their frames and tug at their moorings, as they vibrate in the wind that often +blows from one week’s end to another across that high, active, resolute +stretch of country. +</p> + +<p> +The Divide is now thickly populated. The rich soil yields heavy harvests; the +dry, bracing climate and the smoothness of the land make labor easy for men and +beasts. There are few scenes more gratifying than a spring plowing in that +country, where the furrows of a single field often lie a mile in length, and +the brown earth, with such a strong, clean smell, and such a power of growth +and fertility in it, yields itself eagerly to the plow; rolls away from the +shear, not even dimming the brightness of the metal, with a soft, deep sigh of +happiness. The wheat-cutting sometimes goes on all night as well as all day, +and in good seasons there are scarcely men and horses enough to do the +harvesting. The grain is so heavy that it bends toward the blade and cuts like +velvet. +</p> + +<p> +There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face of the country. +It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, holding nothing back. +Like the plains of Lombardy, it seems to rise a little to meet the sun. The air +and the earth are curiously mated and intermingled, as if the one were the +breath of the other. You feel in the atmosphere the same tonic, puissant +quality that is in the tilth, the same strength and resoluteness. +</p> + +<p> +One June morning a young man stood at the gate of the Norwegian graveyard, +sharpening his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to the tune he was +whistling. He wore a flannel cap and duck trousers, and the sleeves of his +white flannel shirt were rolled back to the elbow. When he was satisfied with +the edge of his blade, he slipped the whetstone into his hip pocket and began +to swing his scythe, still whistling, but softly, out of respect to the quiet +folk about him. Unconscious respect, probably, for he seemed intent upon his +own thoughts, and, like the Gladiator’s, they were far away. He was a +splendid figure of a boy, tall and straight as a young pine tree, with a +handsome head, and stormy gray eyes, deeply set under a serious brow. The space +between his two front teeth, which were unusually far apart, gave him the +proficiency in whistling for which he was distinguished at college. (He also +played the cornet in the University band.) +</p> + +<p> +When the grass required his close attention, or when he had to stoop to cut +about a head-stone, he paused in his lively air,—the “Jewel” +song,—taking it up where he had left it when his scythe swung free again. +He was not thinking about the tired pioneers over whom his blade glittered. The +old wild country, the struggle in which his sister was destined to succeed +while so many men broke their hearts and died, he can scarcely remember. That +is all among the dim things of childhood and has been forgotten in the brighter +pattern life weaves to-day, in the bright facts of being captain of the track +team, and holding the interstate record for the high jump, in the all-suffusing +brightness of being twenty-one. Yet sometimes, in the pauses of his work, the +young man frowned and looked at the ground with an intentness which suggested +that even twenty-one might have its problems. +</p> + +<p> +When he had been mowing the better part of an hour, he heard the rattle of a +light cart on the road behind him. Supposing that it was his sister coming back +from one of her farms, he kept on with his work. The cart stopped at the gate +and a merry contralto voice called, “Almost through, Emil?” He +dropped his scythe and went toward the fence, wiping his face and neck with his +handkerchief. In the cart sat a young woman who wore driving gauntlets and a +wide shade hat, trimmed with red poppies. Her face, too, was rather like a +poppy, round and brown, with rich color in her cheeks and lips, and her dancing +yellow-brown eyes bubbled with gayety. The wind was flapping her big hat and +teasing a curl of her chestnut-colored hair. She shook her head at the tall +youth. +</p> + +<p> +“What time did you get over here? That’s not much of a job for an +athlete. Here I’ve been to town and back. Alexandra lets you sleep late. +Oh, I know! Lou’s wife was telling me about the way she spoils you. I was +going to give you a lift, if you were done.” She gathered up her reins. +</p> + +<p> +“But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for me, Marie,” Emil +coaxed. “Alexandra sent me to mow our lot, but I’ve done half a +dozen others, you see. Just wait till I finish off the Kourdnas’. By the +way, they were Bohemians. Why aren’t they up in the Catholic +graveyard?” +</p> + +<p> +“Free-thinkers,” replied the young woman laconically. +</p> + +<p> +“Lots of the Bohemian boys at the University are,” said Emil, +taking up his scythe again. “What did you ever burn John Huss for, +anyway? It’s made an awful row. They still jaw about it in history +classes.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’d do it right over again, most of us,” said the young +woman hotly. “Don’t they ever teach you in your history classes +that you’d all be heathen Turks if it hadn’t been for the +Bohemians?” +</p> + +<p> +Emil had fallen to mowing. “Oh, there’s no denying you’re a +spunky little bunch, you Czechs,” he called back over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat and watched the rhythmical movement +of the young man’s long arms, swinging her foot as if in time to some air +that was going through her mind. The minutes passed. Emil mowed vigorously and +Marie sat sunning herself and watching the long grass fall. She sat with the +ease that belongs to persons of an essentially happy nature, who can find a +comfortable spot almost anywhere; who are supple, and quick in adapting +themselves to circumstances. After a final swish, Emil snapped the gate and +sprang into the cart, holding his scythe well out over the wheel. +“There,” he sighed. “I gave old man Lee a cut or so, too. +Lou’s wife needn’t talk. I never see Lou’s scythe over +here.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie clucked to her horse. “Oh, you know Annie!” She looked at the +young man’s bare arms. “How brown you’ve got since you came +home. I wish I had an athlete to mow my orchard. I get wet to my knees when I +go down to pick cherries.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can have one, any time you want him. Better wait until after it +rains.” Emil squinted off at the horizon as if he were looking for +clouds. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you? Oh, there’s a good boy!” She turned her head to +him with a quick, bright smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, he had +looked away with the purpose of not seeing it. “I’ve been up +looking at Angélique’s wedding clothes,” Marie went on, “and +I’m so excited I can hardly wait until Sunday. Amédée will be a handsome +bridegroom. Is anybody but you going to stand up with him? Well, then it will +be a handsome wedding party.” She made a droll face at Emil, who flushed. +“Frank,” Marie continued, flicking her horse, “is cranky at +me because I loaned his saddle to Jan Smirka, and I’m terribly afraid he +won’t take me to the dance in the evening. Maybe the supper will tempt +him. All Angélique’s folks are baking for it, and all Amédée’s +twenty cousins. There will be barrels of beer. If once I get Frank to the +supper, I’ll see that I stay for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you +mustn’t dance with me but once or twice. You must dance with all the +French girls. It hurts their feelings if you don’t. They think +you’re proud because you’ve been away to school or +something.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil sniffed. “How do you know they think that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you didn’t dance with them much at Raoul Marcel’s +party, and I could tell how they took it by the way they looked at +you—and at me.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Emil shortly, studying the glittering blade of +his scythe. +</p> + +<p> +They drove westward toward Norway Creek, and toward a big white house that +stood on a hill, several miles across the fields. There were so many sheds and +outbuildings grouped about it that the place looked not unlike a tiny village. +A stranger, approaching it, could not help noticing the beauty and fruitfulness +of the outlying fields. There was something individual about the great farm, a +most unusual trimness and care for detail. On either side of the road, for a +mile before you reached the foot of the hill, stood tall osage orange hedges, +their glossy green marking off the yellow fields. South of the hill, in a low, +sheltered swale, surrounded by a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, its fruit +trees knee-deep in timothy grass. Any one thereabouts would have told you that +this was one of the richest farms on the Divide, and that the farmer was a +woman, Alexandra Bergson. +</p> + +<p> +If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra’s big house, you will find that +it is curiously unfinished and uneven in comfort. One room is papered, +carpeted, over-furnished; the next is almost bare. The pleasantest rooms in the +house are the kitchen—where Alexandra’s three young Swedish girls +chatter and cook and pickle and preserve all summer long—and the +sitting-room, in which Alexandra has brought together the old homely furniture +that the Bergsons used in their first log house, the family portraits, and the +few things her mother brought from Sweden. +</p> + +<p> +When you go out of the house into the flower garden, there you feel again the +order and fine arrangement manifest all over the great farm; in the fencing and +hedging, in the windbreaks and sheds, in the symmetrical pasture ponds, planted +with scrub willows to give shade to the cattle in fly-time. There is even a +white row of beehives in the orchard, under the walnut trees. You feel that, +properly, Alexandra’s house is the big out-of-doors, and that it is in +the soil that she expresses herself best. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"></a>II</h2> + +<p> +Emil reached home a little past noon, and when he went into the kitchen +Alexandra was already seated at the head of the long table, having dinner with +her men, as she always did unless there were visitors. He slipped into his +empty place at his sister’s right. The three pretty young Swedish girls +who did Alexandra’s housework were cutting pies, refilling coffeecups, +placing platters of bread and meat and potatoes upon the red tablecloth, and +continually getting in each other’s way between the table and the stove. +To be sure they always wasted a good deal of time getting in each other’s +way and giggling at each other’s mistakes. But, as Alexandra had +pointedly told her sisters-in-law, it was to hear them giggle that she kept +three young things in her kitchen; the work she could do herself, if it were +necessary. These girls, with their long letters from home, their finery, and +their love-affairs, afforded her a great deal of entertainment, and they were +company for her when Emil was away at school. +</p> + +<p> +Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty figure, mottled pink cheeks, and +yellow hair, Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps a sharp eye upon her. +Signa is apt to be skittish at mealtime, when the men are about, and to spill +the coffee or upset the cream. It is supposed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six +men at the dinner-table, is courting Signa, though he has been so careful not +to commit himself that no one in the house, least of all Signa, can tell just +how far the matter has progressed. Nelse watches her glumly as she waits upon +the table, and in the evening he sits on a bench behind the stove with his +DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful airs and watching her as she goes about her +work. When Alexandra asked Signa whether she thought Nelse was in earnest, the +poor child hid her hands under her apron and murmured, “I don’t +know, ma’m. But he scolds me about everything, like as if he wanted to +have me!” +</p> + +<p> +At Alexandra’s left sat a very old man, barefoot and wearing a long blue +blouse, open at the neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter than it was +sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes have become pale and watery, and +his ruddy face is withered, like an apple that has clung all winter to the +tree. When Ivar lost his land through mismanagement a dozen years ago, +Alexandra took him in, and he has been a member of her household ever since. He +is too old to work in the fields, but he hitches and unhitches the work-teams +and looks after the health of the stock. Sometimes of a winter evening +Alexandra calls him into the sitting-room to read the Bible aloud to her, for +he still reads very well. He dislikes human habitations, so Alexandra has +fitted him up a room in the barn, where he is very comfortable, being near the +horses and, as he says, further from temptations. No one has ever found out +what his temptations are. In cold weather he sits by the kitchen fire and makes +hammocks or mends harness until it is time to go to bed. Then he says his +prayers at great length behind the stove, puts on his buffalo-skin coat and +goes out to his room in the barn. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller, and she has +more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous than she did as a young girl. +But she still has the same calmness and deliberation of manner, the same clear +eyes, and she still wears her hair in two braids wound round her head. It is so +curly that fiery ends escape from the braids and make her head look like one of +the big double sunflowers that fringe her vegetable garden. Her face is always +tanned in summer, for her sunbonnet is oftener on her arm than on her head. But +where her collar falls away from her neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back +from her wrist, the skin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none but +Swedish women ever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow itself. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged her men to talk, +and she always listened attentively, even when they seemed to be talking +foolishly. +</p> + +<p> +To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed Irishman who had been with Alexandra +for five years and who was actually her foreman, though he had no such title, +was grumbling about the new silo she had put up that spring. It happened to be +the first silo on the Divide, and Alexandra’s neighbors and her men were +skeptical about it. “To be sure, if the thing don’t work, +we’ll have plenty of feed without it, indeed,” Barney conceded. +</p> + +<p> +Nelse Jensen, Signa’s gloomy suitor, had his word. “Lou, he says he +wouldn’t have no silo on his place if you’d give it to him. He says +the feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard of somebody lost four +head of horses, feedin’ ’em that stuff.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. “Well, the only way +we can find out is to try. Lou and I have different notions about feeding +stock, and that’s a good thing. It’s bad if all the members of a +family think alike. They never get anywhere. Lou can learn by my mistakes and I +can learn by his. Isn’t that fair, Barney?” +</p> + +<p> +The Irishman laughed. He had no love for Lou, who was always uppish with him +and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. “I’ve no +thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. ’T would be only right, +after puttin’ so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will come out an’ +have a look at it wid me.” He pushed back his chair, took his hat from +the nail, and marched out with Emil, who, with his university ideas, was +supposed to have instigated the silo. The other hands followed them, all except +old Ivar. He had been depressed throughout the meal and had paid no heed to the +talk of the men, even when they mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which he was +sure to have opinions. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?” Alexandra asked as she rose +from the table. “Come into the sitting-room.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair he shook +his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him to speak. He stood +looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him. +Ivar’s bandy legs seemed to have grown shorter with years, and they were +completely misfitted to his broad, thick body and heavy shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Ivar, what is it?” Alexandra asked after she had waited +longer than usual. +</p> + +<p> +Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaint and grave, +like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He always addressed Alexandra +in terms of the deepest respect, hoping to set a good example to the kitchen +girls, whom he thought too familiar in their manners. +</p> + +<p> +“Mistress,” he began faintly, without raising his eyes, “the +folk have been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been +talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Talk about what, Ivar?” +</p> + +<p> +“About sending me away; to the asylum.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. “Nobody has come to me with such +talk,” she said decidedly. “Why need you listen? You know I would +never consent to such a thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little eyes. +“They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain of me, if your +brothers complain to the authorities. They say that your brothers are +afraid—God forbid!—that I may do you some injury when my spells are +on me. Mistress, how can any one think that?—that I could bite the hand +that fed me!” The tears trickled down on the old man’s beard. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra frowned. “Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should come bothering +me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, and other people have +nothing to do with either you or me. So long as I am suited with you, there is +nothing to be said.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse and wiped his +eyes and beard. “But I should not wish you to keep me if, as they say, it +is against your interests, and if it is hard for you to get hands because I am +here.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his hand and went +on earnestly:— +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things into +account. You know that my spells come from God, and that I would not harm any +living creature. You believe that every one should worship God in the way +revealed to him. But that is not the way of this country. The way here is for +all to do alike. I am despised because I do not wear shoes, because I do not +cut my hair, and because I have visions. At home, in the old country, there +were many like me, who had been touched by God, or who had seen things in the +graveyard at night and were different afterward. We thought nothing of it, and +let them alone. But here, if a man is different in his feet or in his head, +they put him in the asylum. Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking +out of a creek, he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could eat only +such food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything else, it became +enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about in him, he drank alcohol +to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. He could work as good as any man, +and his head was clear, but they locked him up for being different in his +stomach. That is the way; they have built the asylum for people who are +different, and they will not even let us live in the holes with the badgers. +Only your great prosperity has protected me so far. If you had had ill-fortune, +they would have taken me to Hastings long ago.” +</p> + +<p> +As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she could often +break his fasts and long penances by talking to him and letting him pour out +the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy always cleared his mind, and ridicule +was poison to him. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not they will be +wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; and then I may take +you with me. But at present I need you here. Only don’t come to me again +telling me what people say. Let people go on talking as they like, and we will +go on living as we think best. You have been with me now for twelve years, and +I have gone to you for advice oftener than I have ever gone to any one. That +ought to satisfy you.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar bowed humbly. “Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with their +talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes all these years, +though you have never questioned me; washing them every night, even in +winter.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra laughed. “Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We can remember +when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expect old Mrs. Lee would +love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if she dared. I’m glad +I’m not Lou’s mother-in-law.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. +“You know what they have over at Lou’s house? A great white tub, +like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash themselves in. When +you sent me over with the strawberries, they were all in town but the old woman +Lee and the baby. She took me in and showed me the thing, and she told me it +was impossible to wash yourself clean in it, because, in so much water, you +could not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up and send her in there, +she pretends, and makes a splashing noise. Then, when they are all asleep, she +washes herself in a little wooden tub she keeps under her bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra shook with laughter. “Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won’t let +her wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit me, she can do +all the old things in the old way, and have as much beer as she wants. +We’ll start an asylum for old-time people, Ivar.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into his blouse. +“This is always the way, mistress. I come to you sorrowing, and you send +me away with a light heart. And will you be so good as to tell the Irishman +that he is not to work the brown gelding until the sore on its shoulder is +healed?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I will. Now go and put Emil’s mare to the cart. I am going to +drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is to buy my +alfalfa hay.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"></a>III</h2> + +<p> +Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar’s case, however. On Sunday her married +brothers came to dinner. She had asked them for that day because Emil, who +hated family parties, would be absent, dancing at Amédée Chevalier’s +wedding, up in the French country. The table was set for company in the +dining-room, where highly varnished wood and colored glass and useless pieces +of china were conspicuous enough to satisfy the standards of the new +prosperity. Alexandra had put herself into the hands of the Hanover furniture +dealer, and he had conscientiously done his best to make her dining-room look +like his display window. She said frankly that she knew nothing about such +things, and she was willing to be governed by the general conviction that the +more useless and utterly unusable objects were, the greater their virtue as +ornament. That seemed reasonable enough. Since she liked plain things herself, +it was all the more necessary to have jars and punchbowls and candlesticks in +the company rooms for people who did appreciate them. Her guests liked to see +about them these reassuring emblems of prosperity. +</p> + +<p> +The family party was complete except for Emil, and Oscar’s wife who, in +the country phrase, “was not going anywhere just now.” Oscar sat at +the foot of the table and his four tow-headed little boys, aged from twelve to +five, were ranged at one side. Neither Oscar nor Lou has changed much; they +have simply, as Alexandra said of them long ago, grown to be more and more like +themselves. Lou now looks the older of the two; his face is thin and shrewd and +wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar’s is thick and dull. For all his +dullness, however, Oscar makes more money than his brother, which adds to +Lou’s sharpness and uneasiness and tempts him to make a show. The trouble +with Lou is that he is tricky, and his neighbors have found out that, as Ivar +says, he has not a fox’s face for nothing. Politics being the natural +field for such talents, he neglects his farm to attend conventions and to run +for county offices. +</p> + +<p> +Lou’s wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to look curiously like her +husband. Her face has become longer, sharper, more aggressive. She wears her +yellow hair in a high pompadour, and is bedecked with rings and chains and +“beauty pins.” Her tight, high-heeled shoes give her an awkward +walk, and she is always more or less preoccupied with her clothes. As she sat +at the table, she kept telling her youngest daughter to “be careful now, +and not drop anything on mother.” +</p> + +<p> +The conversation at the table was all in English. Oscar’s wife, from the +malaria district of Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a foreigner, and his boys +do not understand a word of Swedish. Annie and Lou sometimes speak Swedish at +home, but Annie is almost as much afraid of being “caught” at it as +ever her mother was of being caught barefoot. Oscar still has a thick accent, +but Lou speaks like anybody from Iowa. +</p> + +<p> +“When I was in Hastings to attend the convention,” he was saying, +“I saw the superintendent of the asylum, and I was telling him about +Ivar’s symptoms. He says Ivar’s case is one of the most dangerous +kind, and it’s a wonder he hasn’t done something violent before +this.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. “Oh, nonsense, Lou! The doctors would +have us all crazy if they could. Ivar’s queer, certainly, but he has more +sense than half the hands I hire.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou flew at his fried chicken. “Oh, I guess the doctor knows his +business, Alexandra. He was very much surprised when I told him how you’d +put up with Ivar. He says he’s likely to set fire to the barn any night, +or to take after you and the girls with an axe.” +</p> + +<p> +Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, giggled and fled to the kitchen. +Alexandra’s eyes twinkled. “That was too much for Signa, Lou. We +all know that Ivar’s perfectly harmless. The girls would as soon expect +me to chase them with an axe.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. “All the same, the neighbors will +be having a say about it before long. He may burn anybody’s barn. +It’s only necessary for one property-owner in the township to make +complaint, and he’ll be taken up by force. You’d better send him +yourself and not have any hard feelings.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to gravy. “Well, Lou, if any +of the neighbors try that, I’ll have myself appointed Ivar’s +guardian and take the case to court, that’s all. I am perfectly satisfied +with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pass the preserves, Lou,” said Annie in a warning tone. She had +reasons for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. “But +don’t you sort of hate to have people see him around here, +Alexandra?” she went on with persuasive smoothness. “He IS a +disgraceful object, and you’re fixed up so nice now. It sort of makes +people distant with you, when they never know when they’ll hear him +scratching about. My girls are afraid as death of him, aren’t you, Milly, +dear?” +</p> + +<p> +Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompadoured, with a creamy complexion, +square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She looked like her grandmother +Bergson, and had her comfortable and comfort-loving nature. She grinned at her +aunt, with whom she was a great deal more at ease than she was with her mother. +Alexandra winked a reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Milly needn’t be afraid of Ivar. She’s an especial favorite +of his. In my opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of dressing +and thinking as we have. But I’ll see that he doesn’t bother other +people. I’ll keep him at home, so don’t trouble any more about him, +Lou. I’ve been wanting to ask you about your new bathtub. How does it +work?” +</p> + +<p> +Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. “Oh, it works +something grand! I can’t keep him out of it. He washes himself all over +three times a week now, and uses all the hot water. I think it’s +weakening to stay in as long as he does. You ought to have one, +Alexandra.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar, if +it will ease people’s minds. But before I get a bathtub, I’m going +to get a piano for Milly.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. “What does +Milly want of a pianny? What’s the matter with her organ? She can make +some use of that, and play in church.” +</p> + +<p> +Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say anything about this +plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous of what his sister did for +Lou’s children. Alexandra did not get on with Oscar’s wife at all. +“Milly can play in church just the same, and she’ll still play on +the organ. But practising on it so much spoils her touch. Her teacher says +so,” Annie brought out with spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, Milly must have got on pretty good if +she’s got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that +ain’t,” he said bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +Annie threw up her chin. “She has got on good, and she’s going to +play for her commencement when she graduates in town next year.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Alexandra firmly, “I think Milly deserves a +piano. All the girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but Milly +is the only one of them who can ever play anything when you ask her. I’ll +tell you when I first thought I would like to give you a piano, Milly, and that +was when you learned that book of old Swedish songs that your grandfather used +to sing. He had a sweet tenor voice, and when he was a young man he loved to +sing. I can remember hearing him singing with the sailors down in the shipyard, +when I was no bigger than Stella here,” pointing to Annie’s younger +daughter. +</p> + +<p> +Milly and Stella both looked through the door into the sitting-room, where a +crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra had had it made +from a little photograph, taken for his friends just before he left Sweden; a +slender man of thirty-five, with soft hair curling about his high forehead, a +drooping mustache, and wondering, sad eyes that looked forward into the +distance, as if they already beheld the New World. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the orchard to pick cherries—they had +neither of them had the patience to grow an orchard of their own—and +Annie went down to gossip with Alexandra’s kitchen girls while they +washed the dishes. She could always find out more about Alexandra’s +domestic economy from the prattling maids than from Alexandra herself, and what +she discovered she used to her own advantage with Lou. On the Divide, +farmers’ daughters no longer went out into service, so Alexandra got her +girls from Sweden, by paying their fare over. They stayed with her until they +married, and were replaced by sisters or cousins from the old country. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra took her three nieces into the flower garden. She was fond of the +little girls, especially of Milly, who came to spend a week with her aunt now +and then, and read aloud to her from the old books about the house, or listened +to stories about the early days on the Divide. While they were walking among +the flower beds, a buggy drove up the hill and stopped in front of the gate. A +man got out and stood talking to the driver. The little girls were delighted at +the advent of a stranger, some one from very far away, they knew by his +clothes, his gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut of his dark beard. The girls +fell behind their aunt and peeped out at him from among the castor beans. The +stranger came up to the gate and stood holding his hat in his hand, smiling, +while Alexandra advanced slowly to meet him. As she approached he spoke in a +low, pleasant voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know me, Alexandra? I would have known you, +anywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. Suddenly she took a quick step +forward. “Can it be!” she exclaimed with feeling; “can it be +that it is Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!” She threw out both her hands +and caught his across the gate. “Sadie, Milly, run tell your father and +Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl Linstrum is here. Be quick! Why, Carl, how +did it happen? I can’t believe this!” Alexandra shook the tears +from her eyes and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped his suitcase inside the fence, and +opened the gate. “Then you are glad to see me, and you can put me up +overnight? I couldn’t go through this country without stopping off to +have a look at you. How little you have changed! Do you know, I was sure it +would be like that. You simply couldn’t be different. How fine you +are!” He stepped back and looked at her admiringly. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra blushed and laughed again. “But you yourself, Carl—with +that beard—how could I have known you? You went away a little boy.” +She reached for his suitcase and when he intercepted her she threw up her +hands. “You see, I give myself away. I have only women come to visit me, +and I do not know how to behave. Where is your trunk?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. I am on my way to the +coast.” +</p> + +<p> +They started up the path. “A few days? After all these years!” +Alexandra shook her finger at him. “See this, you have walked into a +trap. You do not get away so easy.” She put her hand affectionately on +his shoulder. “You owe me a visit for the sake of old times. Why must you +go to the coast at all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From Seattle I go on to +Alaska.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alaska?” She looked at him in astonishment. “Are you going +to paint the Indians?” +</p> + +<p> +“Paint?” the young man frowned. “Oh! I’m not a painter, +Alexandra. I’m an engraver. I have nothing to do with painting.” +</p> + +<p> +“But on my parlor wall I have the paintings—” +</p> + +<p> +He interrupted nervously. “Oh, water-color sketches—done for +amusement. I sent them to remind you of me, not because they were good. What a +wonderful place you have made of this, Alexandra.” He turned and looked +back at the wide, map-like prospect of field and hedge and pasture. “I +would never have believed it could be done. I’m disappointed in my own +eye, in my imagination.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the hill from the orchard. They did not +quicken their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they did not openly look in his +direction. They advanced distrustfully, and as if they wished the distance were +longer. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra beckoned to them. “They think I am trying to fool them. Come, +boys, it’s Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!” +</p> + +<p> +Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance and thrust out his hand. +“Glad to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar followed with “How d’ do.” Carl could not tell whether +their offishness came from unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and +Alexandra led the way to the porch. +</p> + +<p> +“Carl,” Alexandra explained, “is on his way to Seattle. He is +going to Alaska.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar studied the visitor’s yellow shoes. “Got business +there?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Carl laughed. “Yes, very pressing business. I’m going there to get +rich. Engraving’s a very interesting profession, but a man never makes +any money at it. So I’m going to try the goldfields.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, and Lou looked up with some +interest. “Ever done anything in that line before?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I’m going to join a friend of mine who went out from New +York and has done well. He has offered to break me in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Turrible cold winters, there, I hear,” remarked Oscar. “I +thought people went up there in the spring.” +</p> + +<p> +“They do. But my friend is going to spend the winter in Seattle and I am +to stay with him there and learn something about prospecting before we start +north next year.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou looked skeptical. “Let’s see, how long have you been away from +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sixteen years. You ought to remember that, Lou, for you were married +just after we went away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Going to stay with us some time?” Oscar asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A few days, if Alexandra can keep me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect you’ll be wanting to see your old place,” Lou +observed more cordially. “You won’t hardly know it. But +there’s a few chunks of your old sod house left. Alexandra wouldn’t +never let Frank Shabata plough over it.” +</p> + +<p> +Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was announced, had been touching up her +hair and settling her lace and wishing she had worn another dress, now emerged +with her three daughters and introduced them. She was greatly impressed by +Carl’s urban appearance, and in her excitement talked very loud and threw +her head about. “And you ain’t married yet? At your age, now! Think +of that! You’ll have to wait for Milly. Yes, we’ve got a boy, too. +The youngest. He’s at home with his grandma. You must come over to see +mother and hear Milly play. She’s the musician of the family. She does +pyrography, too. That’s burnt wood, you know. You wouldn’t believe +what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes to school in town, and she is the +youngest in her class by two years.” +</p> + +<p> +Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took her hand again. He liked her creamy +skin and happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her mother’s way of +talking distressed her. “I’m sure she’s a clever little +girl,” he murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. “Let me +see—Ah, it’s your mother that she looks like, Alexandra. Mrs. +Bergson must have looked just like this when she was a little girl. Does Milly +run about over the country as you and Alexandra used to, Annie?” +</p> + +<p> +Milly’s mother protested. “Oh, my, no! Things has changed since we +was girls. Milly has it very different. We are going to rent the place and move +into town as soon as the girls are old enough to go out into company. A good +many are doing that here now. Lou is going into business.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou grinned. “That’s what she says. You better go get your things +on. Ivar’s hitching up,” he added, turning to Annie. +</p> + +<p> +Young farmers seldom address their wives by name. It is always +“you,” or “she.” +</p> + +<p> +Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat down on the step and began to +whittle. “Well, what do folks in New York think of William Jennings +Bryan?” Lou began to bluster, as he always did when he talked politics. +“We gave Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all right, and we’re +fixing another to hand them. Silver wasn’t the only issue,” he +nodded mysteriously. “There’s a good many things got to be changed. +The West is going to make itself heard.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl laughed. “But, surely, it did do that, if nothing else.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou’s thin face reddened up to the roots of his bristly hair. “Oh, +we’ve only begun. We’re waking up to a sense of our +responsibilities, out here, and we ain’t afraid, neither. You fellows +back there must be a tame lot. If you had any nerve you’d get together +and march down to Wall Street and blow it up. Dynamite it, I mean,” with +a threatening nod. +</p> + +<p> +He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely knew how to answer him. +“That would be a waste of powder. The same business would go on in +another street. The street doesn’t matter. But what have you fellows out +here got to kick about? You have the only safe place there is. Morgan himself +couldn’t touch you. One only has to drive through this country to see +that you’re all as rich as barons.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have a good deal more to say than we had when we were poor,” +said Lou threateningly. “We’re getting on to a whole lot of +things.” +</p> + +<p> +As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the gate, Annie came out in a hat that +looked like the model of a battleship. Carl rose and took her down to the +carriage, while Lou lingered for a word with his sister. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you suppose he’s come for?” he asked, jerking his +head toward the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, to pay us a visit. I’ve been begging him to for years.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar looked at Alexandra. “He didn’t let you know he was +coming?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Why should he? I told him to come at any time.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou shrugged his shoulders. “He doesn’t seem to have done much for +himself. Wandering around this way!” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of a cavern. “He never was much +account.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra left them and hurried down to the gate where Annie was rattling on to +Carl about her new dining-room furniture. “You must bring Mr. Linstrum +over real soon, only be sure to telephone me first,” she called back, as +Carl helped her into the carriage. Old Ivar, his white head bare, stood holding +the horses. Lou came down the path and climbed into the front seat, took up the +reins, and drove off without saying anything further to any one. Oscar picked +up his youngest boy and trudged off down the road, the other three trotting +after him. Carl, holding the gate open for Alexandra, began to laugh. “Up +and coming on the Divide, eh, Alexandra?” he cried gayly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"></a>IV</h2> + +<p> +Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less than one might have expected. He +had not become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There was still something +homely and wayward and definitely personal about him. Even his clothes, his +Norfolk coat and his very high collars, were a little unconventional. He seemed +to shrink into himself as he used to do; to hold himself away from things, as +if he were afraid of being hurt. In short, he was more self-conscious than a +man of thirty-five is expected to be. He looked older than his years and not +very strong. His black hair, which still hung in a triangle over his pale +forehead, was thin at the crown, and there were fine, relentless lines about +his eyes. His back, with its high, sharp shoulders, looked like the back of an +over-worked German professor off on his holiday. His face was intelligent, +sensitive, unhappy. +</p> + +<p> +That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the clump of +castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The gravel paths glittered in +the moonlight, and below them the fields lay white and still. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know, Alexandra,” he was saying, “I’ve been +thinking how strangely things work out. I’ve been away engraving other +men’s pictures, and you’ve stayed at home and made your own.” +He pointed with his cigar toward the sleeping landscape. “How in the +world have you done it? How have your neighbors done it?” +</p> + +<p> +“We hadn’t any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. It +had its little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody knew how to work it +right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. It woke up out of its sleep and +stretched itself, and it was so big, so rich, that we suddenly found we were +rich, just from sitting still. As for me, you remember when I began to buy +land. For years after that I was always squeezing and borrowing until I was +ashamed to show my face in the banks. And then, all at once, men began to come +to me offering to lend me money—and I didn’t need it! Then I went +ahead and built this house. I really built it for Emil. I want you to see Emil, +Carl. He is so different from the rest of us!” +</p> + +<p> +“How different?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’ll see! I’m sure it was to have sons like Emil, and +to give them a chance, that father left the old country. It’s curious, +too; on the outside Emil is just like an American boy,—he graduated from +the State University in June, you know,—but underneath he is more Swedish +than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that he frightens me; he is so +violent in his feelings like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he going to farm here with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He shall do whatever he wants to,” Alexandra declared warmly. +“He is going to have a chance, a whole chance; that’s what +I’ve worked for. Sometimes he talks about studying law, and sometimes, +just lately, he’s been talking about going out into the sand hills and +taking up more land. He has his sad times, like father. But I hope he +won’t do that. We have land enough, at last!” Alexandra laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“How about Lou and Oscar? They’ve done well, haven’t +they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, very well; but they are different, and now that they have farms of +their own I do not see so much of them. We divided the land equally when Lou +married. They have their own way of doing things, and they do not altogether +like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps they think me too independent. But I have had +to think for myself a good many years and am not likely to change. On the +whole, though, we take as much comfort in each other as most brothers and +sisters do. And I am very fond of Lou’s oldest daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, and they probably feel the +same about me. I even, if you can keep a secret,”—Carl leaned +forward and touched her arm, smiling,—“I even think I liked the old +country better. This is all very splendid in its way, but there was something +about this country when it was a wild old beast that has haunted me all these +years. Now, when I come back to all this milk and honey, I feel like the old +German song, ‘Wo bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest +Land?’—Do you ever feel like that, I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sometimes, when I think about father and mother and those who are +gone; so many of our old neighbors.” Alexandra paused and looked up +thoughtfully at the stars. “We can remember the graveyard when it was +wild prairie, Carl, and now—” +</p> + +<p> +“And now the old story has begun to write itself over there,” said +Carl softly. “Isn’t it queer: there are only two or three human +stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never +happened before; like the larks in this country, that have been singing the +same five notes over for thousands of years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes! The young people, they live so hard. And yet I sometimes envy +them. There is my little neighbor, now; the people who bought your old place. I +wouldn’t have sold it to any one else, but I was always fond of that +girl. You must remember her, little Marie Tovesky, from Omaha, who used to +visit here? When she was eighteen she ran away from the convent school and got +married, crazy child! She came out here a bride, with her father and husband. +He had nothing, and the old man was willing to buy them a place and set them +up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad to have her so near me. I’ve +never been sorry, either. I even try to get along with Frank on her +account.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is Frank her husband?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He’s one of these wild fellows. Most Bohemians are +good-natured, but Frank thinks we don’t appreciate him here, I guess. +He’s jealous about everything, his farm and his horses and his pretty +wife. Everybody likes her, just the same as when she was little. Sometimes I go +up to the Catholic church with Emil, and it’s funny to see Marie standing +there laughing and shaking hands with people, looking so excited and gay, with +Frank sulking behind her as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank’s not +a bad neighbor, but to get on with him you’ve got to make a fuss over him +and act as if you thought he was a very important person all the time, and +different from other people. I find it hard to keep that up from one +year’s end to another.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t think you’d be very successful at that kind of +thing, Alexandra.” Carl seemed to find the idea amusing. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Alexandra firmly, “I do the best I can, on +Marie’s account. She has it hard enough, anyway. She’s too young +and pretty for this sort of life. We’re all ever so much older and +slower. But she’s the kind that won’t be downed easily. +She’ll work all day and go to a Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and +drive the hay wagon for a cross man next morning. I could stay by a job, but I +never had the go in me that she has, when I was going my best. I’ll have +to take you over to see her to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly among the castor beans and sighed. +“Yes, I suppose I must see the old place. I’m cowardly about things +that remind me of myself. It took courage to come at all, Alexandra. I +wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t wanted to see you very, very +much.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra looked at him with her calm, deliberate eyes. “Why do you dread +things like that, Carl?” she asked earnestly. “Why are you +dissatisfied with yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +Her visitor winced. “How direct you are, Alexandra! Just like you used to +be. Do I give myself away so quickly? Well, you see, for one thing, +there’s nothing to look forward to in my profession. Wood-engraving is +the only thing I care about, and that had gone out before I began. +Everything’s cheap metal work nowadays, touching up miserable +photographs, forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good ones. I’m +absolutely sick of it all.” Carl frowned. “Alexandra, all the way +out from New York I’ve been planning how I could deceive you and make you +think me a very enviable fellow, and here I am telling you the truth the first +night. I waste a lot of time pretending to people, and the joke of it is, I +don’t think I ever deceive any one. There are too many of my kind; people +know us on sight.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair back from her brow with a puzzled, +thoughtful gesture. “You see,” he went on calmly, “measured +by your standards here, I’m a failure. I couldn’t buy even one of +your cornfields. I’ve enjoyed a great many things, but I’ve got +nothing to show for it all.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you show for it yourself, Carl. I’d rather have had your +freedom than my land.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl shook his head mournfully. “Freedom so often means that one +isn’t needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a background +of your own, you would be missed. But off there in the cities there are +thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all alike; we have no ties, we know +nobody, we own nothing. When one of us dies, they scarcely know where to bury +him. Our landlady and the delicatessen man are our mourners, and we leave +nothing behind us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an easel, or a typewriter, +or whatever tool we got our living by. All we have ever managed to do is to pay +our rent, the exorbitant rent that one has to pay for a few square feet of +space near the heart of things. We have no house, no place, no people of our +own. We live in the streets, in the parks, in the theatres. We sit in +restaurants and concert halls and look about at the hundreds of our own kind +and shudder.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon made on the +surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that she understood what he +meant. At last she said slowly, “And yet I would rather have Emil grow up +like that than like his two brothers. We pay a high rent, too, though we pay +differently. We grow hard and heavy here. We don’t move lightly and +easily as you do, and our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider than my +cornfields, if there were not something beside this, I wouldn’t feel that +it was much worth while to work. No, I would rather have Emil like you than +like them. I felt that as soon as you came.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder why you feel like that?” Carl mused. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. Perhaps I am like Carrie Jensen, the sister of one +of my hired men. She had never been out of the cornfields, and a few years ago +she got despondent and said life was just the same thing over and over, and she +didn’t see the use of it. After she had tried to kill herself once or +twice, her folks got worried and sent her over to Iowa to visit some relations. +Ever since she’s come back she’s been perfectly cheerful, and she +says she’s contented to live and work in a world that’s so big and +interesting. She said that anything as big as the bridges over the Platte and +the Missouri reconciled her. And it’s what goes on in the world that +reconciles me.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"></a>V</h2> + +<p> +Alexandra did not find time to go to her neighbor’s the next day, nor the +next. It was a busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing going on, and +even Emil was in the field with a team and cultivator. Carl went about over the +farms with Alexandra in the morning, and in the afternoon and evening they +found a great deal to talk about. Emil, for all his track practice, did not +stand up under farmwork very well, and by night he was too tired to talk or +even to practise on his cornet. +</p> + +<p> +On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it was light, and stole downstairs and +out of the kitchen door just as old Ivar was making his morning ablutions at +the pump. Carl nodded to him and hurried up the draw, past the garden, and into +the pasture where the milking cows used to be kept. +</p> + +<p> +The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire that was +burning under the edge of the world. The color was reflected in the globules of +dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass. Carl walked rapidly until he +came to the crest of the second hill, where the Bergson pasture joined the one +that had belonged to his father. There he sat down and waited for the sun to +rise. It was just there that he and Alexandra used to do their milking +together, he on his side of the fence, she on hers. He could remember exactly +how she looked when she came over the close-cropped grass, her skirts pinned +up, her head bare, a bright tin pail in either hand, and the milky light of the +early morning all about her. Even as a boy he used to feel, when he saw her +coming with her free step, her upright head and calm shoulders, that she looked +as if she had walked straight out of the morning itself. Since then, when he +had happened to see the sun come up in the country or on the water, he had +often remembered the young Swedish girl and her milking pails. +</p> + +<p> +Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in the grass about +him all the small creatures of day began to tune their tiny instruments. Birds +and insects without number began to chirp, to twitter, to snap and whistle, to +make all manner of fresh shrill noises. The pasture was flooded with light; +every clump of ironweed and snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the +golden light seemed to be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racing +in. +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the fence into the pasture that was now the Shabatas’ and +continued his walk toward the pond. He had not gone far, however, when he +discovered that he was not the only person abroad. In the draw below, his gun +in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, with a young woman beside him. +They were moving softly, keeping close together, and Carl knew that they +expected to find ducks on the pond. At the moment when they came in sight of +the bright spot of water, he heard a whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into +the air. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and five of the birds fell to +the ground. Emil and his companion laughed delightedly, and Emil ran to pick +them up. When he came back, dangling the ducks by their feet, Marie held her +apron and he dropped them into it. As she stood looking down at them, her face +changed. She took up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of feathers with the +blood dripping slowly from its mouth, and looked at the live color that still +burned on its plumage. +</p> + +<p> +As she let it fall, she cried in distress, “Oh, Emil, why did you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I like that!” the boy exclaimed indignantly. “Why, Marie, +you asked me to come yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, I know,” she said tearfully, “but I didn’t +think. I hate to see them when they are first shot. They were having such a +good time, and we’ve spoiled it all for them.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil gave a rather sore laugh. “I should say we had! I’m not going +hunting with you any more. You’re as bad as Ivar. Here, let me take +them.” He snatched the ducks out of her apron. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be cross, Emil. Only—Ivar’s right about wild +things. They’re too happy to kill. You can tell just how they felt when +they flew up. They were scared, but they didn’t really think anything +could hurt them. No, we won’t do that any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” Emil assented. “I’m sorry I made you feel +bad.” As he looked down into her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp +young bitterness in his own. +</p> + +<p> +Carl watched them as they moved slowly down the draw. They had not seen him at +all. He had not overheard much of their dialogue, but he felt the import of it. +It made him, somehow, unreasonably mournful to find two young things abroad in +the pasture in the early morning. He decided that he needed his breakfast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"></a>VI</h2> + +<p> +At dinner that day Alexandra said she thought they must really manage to go +over to the Shabatas’ that afternoon. “It’s not often I let +three days go by without seeing Marie. She will think I have forsaken her, now +that my old friend has come back.” +</p> + +<p> +After the men had gone back to work, Alexandra put on a white dress and her +sun-hat, and she and Carl set forth across the fields. “You see we have +kept up the old path, Carl. It has been so nice for me to feel that there was a +friend at the other end of it again.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl smiled a little ruefully. “All the same, I hope it hasn’t been +<i>quite</i> the same.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra looked at him with surprise. “Why, no, of course not. Not the +same. She could not very well take your place, if that’s what you mean. +I’m friendly with all my neighbors, I hope. But Marie is really a +companion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. You wouldn’t want me to +be more lonely than I have been, would you?” +</p> + +<p> +Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular lock of hair with the edge of his +hat. “Of course I don’t. I ought to be thankful that this path +hasn’t been worn by—well, by friends with more pressing errands +than your little Bohemian is likely to have.” He paused to give Alexandra +his hand as she stepped over the stile. “Are you the least bit +disappointed in our coming together again?” he asked abruptly. “Is +it the way you hoped it would be?” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra smiled at this. “Only better. When I’ve thought about +your coming, I’ve sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have lived +where things move so fast, and everything is slow here; the people slowest of +all. Our lives are like the years, all made up of weather and crops and cows. +How you hated cows!” She shook her head and laughed to herself. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t when we milked together. I walked up to the pasture +corners this morning. I wonder whether I shall ever be able to tell you all +that I was thinking about up there. It’s a strange thing, Alexandra; I +find it easy to be frank with you about everything under the sun +except—yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are afraid of hurting my feelings, perhaps.” Alexandra looked +at him thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m afraid of giving you a shock. You’ve seen yourself +for so long in the dull minds of the people about you, that if I were to tell +you how you seem to me, it would startle you. But you must see that you +astonish me. You must feel when people admire you.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra blushed and laughed with some confusion. “I felt that you were +pleased with me, if you mean that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’ve felt when other people were pleased with you?” he +insisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the banks and the county offices, +seem glad to see me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant to do business with +people who are clean and healthy-looking,” she admitted blandly. +</p> + +<p> +Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the Shabatas’ gate for her. +“Oh, do you?” he asked dryly. +</p> + +<p> +There was no sign of life about the Shabatas’ house except a big yellow +cat, sunning itself on the kitchen doorstep. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra took the path that led to the orchard. “She often sits there +and sews. I didn’t telephone her we were coming, because I didn’t +want her to go to work and bake cake and freeze ice-cream. She’ll always +make a party if you give her the least excuse. Do you recognize the apple +trees, Carl?” +</p> + +<p> +Linstrum looked about him. “I wish I had a dollar for every bucket of +water I’ve carried for those trees. Poor father, he was an easy man, but +he was perfectly merciless when it came to watering the orchard.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s one thing I like about Germans; they make an orchard grow +if they can’t make anything else. I’m so glad these trees belong to +some one who takes comfort in them. When I rented this place, the tenants never +kept the orchard up, and Emil and I used to come over and take care of it +ourselves. It needs mowing now. There she is, down in the corner. +Maria-a-a!” she called. +</p> + +<p> +A recumbent figure started up from the grass and came running toward them +through the flickering screen of light and shade. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at her! Isn’t she like a little brown rabbit?” +Alexandra laughed. +</p> + +<p> +Maria ran up panting and threw her arms about Alexandra. “Oh, I had begun +to think you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you were so busy. Yes, Emil +told me about Mr. Linstrum being here. Won’t you come up to the +house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not sit down there in your corner? Carl wants to see the orchard. He +kept all these trees alive for years, watering them with his own back.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie turned to Carl. “Then I’m thankful to you, Mr. Linstrum. +We’d never have bought the place if it hadn’t been for this +orchard, and then I wouldn’t have had Alexandra, either.” She gave +Alexandra’s arm a little squeeze as she walked beside her. “How +nice your dress smells, Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in your chest, like +I told you.” +</p> + +<p> +She led them to the northwest corner of the orchard, sheltered on one side by a +thick mulberry hedge and bordered on the other by a wheatfield, just beginning +to yellow. In this corner the ground dipped a little, and the blue-grass, which +the weeds had driven out in the upper part of the orchard, grew thick and +luxuriant. Wild roses were flaming in the tufts of bunchgrass along the fence. +Under a white mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. Beside it lay a book +and a workbasket. +</p> + +<p> +“You must have the seat, Alexandra. The grass would stain your +dress,” the hostess insisted. She dropped down on the ground at +Alexandra’s side and tucked her feet under her. Carl sat at a little +distance from the two women, his back to the wheatfield, and watched them. +Alexandra took off her shade-hat and threw it on the ground. Marie picked it up +and played with the white ribbons, twisting them about her brown fingers as she +talked. They made a pretty picture in the strong sunlight, the leafy pattern +surrounding them like a net; the Swedish woman so white and gold, kindly and +amused, but armored in calm, and the alert brown one, her full lips parted, +points of yellow light dancing in her eyes as she laughed and chattered. Carl +had never forgotten little Marie Tovesky’s eyes, and he was glad to have +an opportunity to study them. The brown iris, he found, was curiously slashed +with yellow, the color of sunflower honey, or of old amber. In each eye one of +these streaks must have been larger than the others, for the effect was that of +two dancing points of light, two little yellow bubbles, such as rise in a glass +of champagne. Sometimes they seemed like the sparks from a forge. She seemed so +easily excited, to kindle with a fierce little flame if one but breathed upon +her. “What a waste,” Carl reflected. “She ought to be doing +all that for a sweetheart. How awkwardly things come about!” +</p> + +<p> +It was not very long before Marie sprang up out of the grass again. “Wait +a moment. I want to show you something.” She ran away and disappeared +behind the low-growing apple trees. +</p> + +<p> +“What a charming creature,” Carl murmured. “I don’t +wonder that her husband is jealous. But can’t she walk? does she always +run?” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra nodded. “Always. I don’t see many people, but I +don’t believe there are many like her, anywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie came back with a branch she had broken from an apricot tree, laden with +pale yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it beside Carl. “Did you +plant those, too? They are such beautiful little trees.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl fingered the blue-green leaves, porous like blotting-paper and shaped like +birch leaves, hung on waxen red stems. “Yes, I think I did. Are these the +circus trees, Alexandra?” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I tell her about them?” Alexandra asked. “Sit down +like a good girl, Marie, and don’t ruin my poor hat, and I’ll tell +you a story. A long time ago, when Carl and I were, say, sixteen and twelve, a +circus came to Hanover and we went to town in our wagon, with Lou and Oscar, to +see the parade. We hadn’t money enough to go to the circus. We followed +the parade out to the circus grounds and hung around until the show began and +the crowd went inside the tent. Then Lou was afraid we looked foolish standing +outside in the pasture, so we went back to Hanover feeling very sad. There was +a man in the streets selling apricots, and we had never seen any before. He had +driven down from somewhere up in the French country, and he was selling them +twenty-five cents a peck. We had a little money our fathers had given us for +candy, and I bought two pecks and Carl bought one. They cheered us a good deal, +and we saved all the seeds and planted them. Up to the time Carl went away, +they hadn’t borne at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now he’s come back to eat them,” cried Marie, nodding at +Carl. “That IS a good story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Linstrum. I +used to see you in Hanover sometimes, when Uncle Joe took me to town. I +remember you because you were always buying pencils and tubes of paint at the +drug store. Once, when my uncle left me at the store, you drew a lot of little +birds and flowers for me on a piece of wrapping-paper. I kept them for a long +while. I thought you were very romantic because you could draw and had such +black eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl smiled. “Yes, I remember that time. Your uncle bought you some kind +of a mechanical toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman and smoking a hookah, +wasn’t it? And she turned her head backwards and forwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes! Wasn’t she splendid! I knew well enough I ought not to +tell Uncle Joe I wanted it, for he had just come back from the saloon and was +feeling good. You remember how he laughed? She tickled him, too. But when we +got home, my aunt scolded him for buying toys when she needed so many things. +We wound our lady up every night, and when she began to move her head my aunt +used to laugh as hard as any of us. It was a music-box, you know, and the +Turkish lady played a tune while she smoked. That was how she made you feel so +jolly. As I remember her, she was lovely, and had a gold crescent on her +turban.” +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later, as they were leaving the house, Carl and Alexandra were met +in the path by a strapping fellow in overalls and a blue shirt. He was +breathing hard, as if he had been running, and was muttering to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the arm, gave him a little push toward +her guests. “Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank took off his broad straw hat and nodded to Alexandra. When he spoke to +Carl, he showed a fine set of white teeth. He was burned a dull red down to his +neckband, and there was a heavy three-days’ stubble on his face. Even in +his agitation he was handsome, but he looked a rash and violent man. +</p> + +<p> +Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once to his wife and began, in an +outraged tone, “I have to leave my team to drive the old woman +Hiller’s hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat old woman to de court if +she ain’t careful, I tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +His wife spoke soothingly. “But, Frank, she has only her lame boy to help +her. She does the best she can.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra looked at the excited man and offered a suggestion. “Why +don’t you go over there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? +You’d save time for yourself in the end.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank’s neck stiffened. “Not-a-much, I won’t. I keep my hogs +home. Other peoples can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend shoes, he can +mend fence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe,” said Alexandra placidly; “but I’ve found it +sometimes pays to mend other people’s fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to +see me soon.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra walked firmly down the path and Carl followed her. +</p> + +<p> +Frank went into the house and threw himself on the sofa, his face to the wall, +his clenched fist on his hip. Marie, having seen her guests off, came in and +put her hand coaxingly on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Frank! You’ve run until you’ve made your head ache, now +haven’t you? Let me make you some coffee.” +</p> + +<p> +“What else am I to do?” he cried hotly in Bohemian. “Am I to +let any old woman’s hogs root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself to +death for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry about it, Frank. I’ll speak to Mrs. Hiller +again. But, really, she almost cried last time they got out, she was so +sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank bounced over on his other side. “That’s it; you always side +with them against me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free to borrow the +mower and break it, or turn their hogs in on me. They know you won’t +care!” +</p> + +<p> +Marie hurried away to make his coffee. When she came back, he was fast asleep. +She sat down and looked at him for a long while, very thoughtfully. When the +kitchen clock struck six she went out to get supper, closing the door gently +behind her. She was always sorry for Frank when he worked himself into one of +these rages, and she was sorry to have him rough and quarrelsome with his +neighbors. She was perfectly aware that the neighbors had a good deal to put up +with, and that they bore with Frank for her sake. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"></a>VII</h2> + +<p> +Marie’s father, Albert Tovesky, was one of the more intelligent Bohemians +who came West in the early seventies. He settled in Omaha and became a leader +and adviser among his people there. Marie was his youngest child, by a second +wife, and was the apple of his eye. She was barely sixteen, and was in the +graduating class of the Omaha High School, when Frank Shabata arrived from the +old country and set all the Bohemian girls in a flutter. He was easily the buck +of the beer-gardens, and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with his silk hat and +tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, wearing gloves and carrying a little wisp of +a yellow cane. He was tall and fair, with splendid teeth and close-cropped +yellow curls, and he wore a slightly disdainful expression, proper for a young +man with high connections, whose mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. +There was often an interesting discontent in his blue eyes, and every Bohemian +girl he met imagined herself the cause of that unsatisfied expression. He had a +way of drawing out his cambric handkerchief slowly, by one corner, from his +breast-pocket, that was melancholy and romantic in the extreme. He took a +little flight with each of the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it was when he +was with little Marie Tovesky that he drew his handkerchief out most slowly, +and, after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match most despairingly. Any +one could see, with half an eye, that his proud heart was bleeding for +somebody. +</p> + +<p> +One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie’s graduation, she met Frank at +a Bohemian picnic down the river and went rowing with him all the afternoon. +When she got home that evening she went straight to her father’s room and +told him that she was engaged to Shabata. Old Tovesky was having a comfortable +pipe before he went to bed. When he heard his daughter’s announcement, he +first prudently corked his beer bottle and then leaped to his feet and had a +turn of temper. He characterized Frank Shabata by a Bohemian expression which +is the equivalent of stuffed shirt. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t he go to work like the rest of us did? His farm in the +Elbe valley, indeed! Ain’t he got plenty brothers and sisters? It’s +his mother’s farm, and why don’t he stay at home and help her? +Haven’t I seen his mother out in the morning at five o’clock with +her ladle and her big bucket on wheels, putting liquid manure on the cabbages? +Don’t I know the look of old Eva Shabata’s hands? Like an old +horse’s hoofs they are—and this fellow wearing gloves and rings! +Engaged, indeed! You aren’t fit to be out of school, and that’s +what’s the matter with you. I will send you off to the Sisters of the +Sacred Heart in St. Louis, and they will teach you some sense, <i>I</i> +guess!” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, the very next week, Albert Tovesky took his daughter, pale and +tearful, down the river to the convent. But the way to make Frank want anything +was to tell him he couldn’t have it. He managed to have an interview with +Marie before she went away, and whereas he had been only half in love with her +before, he now persuaded himself that he would not stop at anything. Marie took +with her to the convent, under the canvas lining of her trunk, the results of a +laborious and satisfying morning on Frank’s part; no less than a dozen +photographs of himself, taken in a dozen different love-lorn attitudes. There +was a little round photograph for her watch-case, photographs for her wall and +dresser, and even long narrow ones to be used as bookmarks. More than once the +handsome gentleman was torn to pieces before the French class by an indignant +nun. +</p> + +<p> +Marie pined in the convent for a year, until her eighteenth birthday was +passed. Then she met Frank Shabata in the Union Station in St. Louis and ran +away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his daughter because there was nothing else +to do, and bought her a farm in the country that she had loved so well as a +child. Since then her story had been a part of the history of the Divide. She +and Frank had been living there for five years when Carl Linstrum came back to +pay his long deferred visit to Alexandra. Frank had, on the whole, done better +than one might have expected. He had flung himself at the soil with savage +energy. Once a year he went to Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He stayed away +for a week or two, and then came home and worked like a demon. He did work; if +he felt sorry for himself, that was his own affair. +</p> +</div><!--end chapter--> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works +<div class="chapter"> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"></a>VIII</h2> + +<p> +On the evening of the day of Alexandra’s call at the Shabatas’, a +heavy rain set in. Frank sat up until a late hour reading the Sunday +newspapers. One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, and Frank took it as a +personal affront. In printing the story of the young man’s marital +troubles, the knowing editor gave a sufficiently colored account of his career, +stating the amount of his income and the manner in which he was supposed to +spend it. Frank read English slowly, and the more he read about this divorce +case, the angrier he grew. At last he threw down the page with a snort. He +turned to his farm-hand who was reading the other half of the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“By God! if I have that young feller in de hayfield once, I show him +someting. Listen here what he do wit his money.” And Frank began the +catalogue of the young man’s reputed extravagances. +</p> + +<p> +Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the Goulds, for whom she had nothing but +good will, should make her so much trouble. She hated to see the Sunday +newspapers come into the house. Frank was always reading about the doings of +rich people and feeling outraged. He had an inexhaustible stock of stories +about their crimes and follies, how they bribed the courts and shot down their +butlers with impunity whenever they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson had very +similar ideas, and they were two of the political agitators of the county. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the ground was too +wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to Sainte-Agnes to spend the +day at Moses Marcel’s saloon. After he was gone, Marie went out to the +back porch to begin her butter-making. A brisk wind had come up and was driving +puffy white clouds across the sky. The orchard was sparkling and rippling in +the sun. Marie stood looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid of the +churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the air, the merry sound of the whetstone +on the scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran into the house, put on a +short skirt and a pair of her husband’s boots, caught up a tin pail and +started for the orchard. Emil had already begun work and was mowing vigorously. +When he saw her coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. His yellow canvas +leggings and khaki trousers were splashed to the knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let me disturb you, Emil. I’m going to pick cherries. +Isn’t everything beautiful after the rain? Oh, but I’m glad to get +this place mowed! When I heard it raining in the night, I thought maybe you +would come and do it for me to-day. The wind wakened me. Didn’t it blow +dreadfully? Just smell the wild roses! They are always so spicy after a rain. +We never had so many of them in here before. I suppose it’s the wet +season. Will you have to cut them, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I cut the grass, I will,” Emil said teasingly. +“What’s the matter with you? What makes you so flighty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I flighty? I suppose that’s the wet season, too, then. +It’s exciting to see everything growing so fast,—and to get the +grass cut! Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut them. Oh, I +don’t mean all of them, I mean that low place down by my tree, where +there are so many. Aren’t you splashed! Look at the spider-webs all over +the grass. Good-bye. I’ll call you if I see a snake.” +</p> + +<p> +She tripped away and Emil stood looking after her. In a few moments he heard +the cherries dropping smartly into the pail, and he began to swing his scythe +with that long, even stroke that few American boys ever learn. Marie picked +cherries and sang softly to herself, stripping one glittering branch after +another, shivering when she caught a shower of raindrops on her neck and hair. +And Emil mowed his way slowly down toward the cherry trees. +</p> + +<p> +That summer the rains had been so many and opportune that it was almost more +than Shabata and his man could do to keep up with the corn; the orchard was a +neglected wilderness. All sorts of weeds and herbs and flowers had grown up +there; splotches of wild larkspur, pale green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, +plantations of wild cotton, tangles of foxtail and wild wheat. South of the +apricot trees, cornering on the wheatfield, was Frank’s alfalfa, where +myriads of white and yellow butterflies were always fluttering above the purple +blossoms. When Emil reached the lower corner by the hedge, Marie was sitting +under her white mulberry tree, the pailful of cherries beside her, looking off +at the gentle, tireless swelling of the wheat. +</p> + +<p> +“Emil,” she said suddenly—he was mowing quietly about under +the tree so as not to disturb her—“what religion did the Swedes +have away back, before they were Christians?” +</p> + +<p> +Emil paused and straightened his back. “I don’t know. About like +the Germans’, wasn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Marie went on as if she had not heard him. “The Bohemians, you know, were +tree worshipers before the missionaries came. Father says the people in the +mountains still do queer things, sometimes,—they believe that trees bring +good or bad luck.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil looked superior. “Do they? Well, which are the lucky trees? +I’d like to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know all of them, but I know lindens are. The old people +in the mountains plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do away with the +spells that come from the old trees they say have lasted from heathen times. +I’m a good Catholic, but I think I could get along with caring for trees, +if I hadn’t anything else.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a poor saying,” said Emil, stooping over to wipe his +hands in the wet grass. +</p> + +<p> +“Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that way. I like trees because +they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do. I +feel as if this tree knows everything I ever think of when I sit here. When I +come back to it, I never have to remind it of anything; I begin just where I +left off.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached up among the branches and began to +pick the sweet, insipid fruit,—long ivory-colored berries, tipped with +faint pink, like white coral, that fall to the ground unheeded all summer +through. He dropped a handful into her lap. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you like Mr. Linstrum?” Marie asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of staid and school-teachery. But, +of course, he is older than Frank, even. I’m sure I don’t want to +live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you think Alexandra likes him very +much?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so. They were old friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!” Marie tossed her head +impatiently. “Does she really care about him? When she used to tell me +about him, I always wondered whether she wasn’t a little in love with +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, Alexandra?” Emil laughed and thrust his hands into his +trousers pockets. “Alexandra’s never been in love, you +crazy!” He laughed again. “She wouldn’t know how to go about +it. The idea!” +</p> + +<p> +Marie shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, you don’t know Alexandra as well +as you think you do! If you had any eyes, you would see that she is very fond +of him. It would serve you all right if she walked off with Carl. I like him +because he appreciates her more than you do.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil frowned. “What are you talking about, Marie? Alexandra’s all +right. She and I have always been good friends. What more do you want? I like +to talk to Carl about New York and what a fellow can do there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of going off there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn’t I?” The young man took +up his scythe and leaned on it. “Would you rather I went off in the sand +hills and lived like Ivar?” +</p> + +<p> +Marie’s face fell under his brooding gaze. She looked down at his wet +leggings. “I’m sure Alexandra hopes you will stay on here,” +she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Alexandra will be disappointed,” the young man said roughly. +“What do I want to hang around here for? Alexandra can run the farm all +right, without me. I don’t want to stand around and look on. I want to be +doing something on my own account.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so,” Marie sighed. “There are so many, many +things you can do. Almost anything you choose.” +</p> + +<p> +“And there are so many, many things I can’t do.” Emil echoed +her tone sarcastically. “Sometimes I don’t want to do anything at +all, and sometimes I want to pull the four corners of the Divide +together,”—he threw out his arm and brought it back with a +jerk,—“so, like a table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses +going up and down, up and down.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her face clouded. “I wish you +weren’t so restless, and didn’t get so worked up over +things,” she said sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” he returned shortly. +</p> + +<p> +She sighed despondently. “Everything I say makes you cross, don’t +it? And you never used to be cross to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning down at her bent head. He stood in +an attitude of self-defense, his feet well apart, his hands clenched and drawn +up at his sides, so that the cords stood out on his bare arms. “I +can’t play with you like a little boy any more,” he said slowly. +“That’s what you miss, Marie. You’ll have to get some other +little boy to play with.” He stopped and took a deep breath. Then he went +on in a low tone, so intense that it was almost threatening: “Sometimes +you seem to understand perfectly, and then sometimes you pretend you +don’t. You don’t help things any by pretending. It’s then +that I want to pull the corners of the Divide together. If you WON’T +understand, you know, I could make you!” +</p> + +<p> +Marie clasped her hands and started up from her seat. She had grown very pale +and her eyes were shining with excitement and distress. “But, Emil, if I +understand, then all our good times are over, we can never do nice things +together any more. We shall have to behave like Mr. Linstrum. And, anyhow, +there’s nothing to understand!” She struck the ground with her +little foot fiercely. “That won’t last. It will go away, and things +will be just as they used to. I wish you were a Catholic. The Church helps +people, indeed it does. I pray for you, but that’s not the same as if you +prayed yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked entreatingly into his face. Emil stood +defiant, gazing down at her. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t pray to have the things I want,” he said slowly, +“and I won’t pray not to have them, not if I’m damned for +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie turned away, wringing her hands. “Oh, Emil, you won’t try! +Then all our good times are over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; over. I never expect to have any more.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe and began to mow. Marie took up her +cherries and went slowly toward the house, crying bitterly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"></a>IX</h2> + +<p> +On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl Linstrum’s arrival, he rode with +Emil up into the French country to attend a Catholic fair. He sat for most of +the afternoon in the basement of the church, where the fair was held, talking +to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the gravel terrace, thrown up on the +hillside in front of the basement doors, where the French boys were jumping and +wrestling and throwing the discus. Some of the boys were in their white +baseball suits; they had just come up from a Sunday practice game down in the +ballgrounds. Amédée, the newly married, Emil’s best friend, was their +pitcher, renowned among the country towns for his dash and skill. Amédée was a +little fellow, a year younger than Emil and much more boyish in appearance; +very lithe and active and neatly made, with a clear brown and white skin, and +flashing white teeth. The Sainte-Agnes boys were to play the Hastings nine in a +fortnight, and Amédée’s lightning balls were the hope of his team. The +little Frenchman seemed to get every ounce there was in him behind the ball as +it left his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d have made the battery at the University for sure, +’Médée,” Emil said as they were walking from the ball-grounds back +to the church on the hill. “You’re pitching better than you did in +the spring.” +</p> + +<p> +Amédée grinned. “Sure! A married man don’t lose his head no +more.” He slapped Emil on the back as he caught step with him. “Oh, +Emil, you wanna get married right off quick! It’s the greatest thing +ever!” +</p> + +<p> +Emil laughed. “How am I going to get married without any girl?” +</p> + +<p> +Amédée took his arm. “Pooh! There are plenty girls will have you. You +wanna get some nice French girl, now. She treat you well; always be jolly. +See,”—he began checking off on his fingers,—“there is +Sévérine, and Alphosen, and Joséphine, and Hectorine, and Louise, and +Malvina—why, I could love any of them girls! Why don’t you get +after them? Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the matter with you? I never +did know a boy twenty-two years old before that didn’t have no girl. You +wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a for me!” Amédée swaggered. “I bring +many good Catholics into this world, I hope, and that’s a way I help the +Church.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil looked down and patted him on the shoulder. “Now you’re windy, +’Médée. You Frenchies like to brag.” +</p> + +<p> +But Amédée had the zeal of the newly married, and he was not to be lightly +shaken off. “Honest and true, Emil, don’t you want ANY girl? Maybe +there’s some young lady in Lincoln, now, very grand,”—Amédée +waved his hand languidly before his face to denote the fan of heartless +beauty,—“and you lost your heart up there. Is that it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe,” said Emil. +</p> + +<p> +But Amédée saw no appropriate glow in his friend’s face. +“Bah!” he exclaimed in disgust. “I tell all the French girls +to keep ’way from you. You gotta rock in there,” thumping Emil on +the ribs. +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the terrace at the side of the church, Amédée, who was +excited by his success on the ball-grounds, challenged Emil to a jumping-match, +though he knew he would be beaten. They belted themselves up, and Raoul Marcel, +the choir tenor and Father Duchesne’s pet, and Jean Bordelau, held the +string over which they vaulted. All the French boys stood round, cheering and +humping themselves up when Emil or Amédée went over the wire, as if they were +helping in the lift. Emil stopped at five-feet-five, declaring that he would +spoil his appetite for supper if he jumped any more. +</p> + +<p> +Angélique, Amédée’s pretty bride, as blonde and fair as her name, who had +come out to watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and said:— +</p> + +<p> +“’Médée could jump much higher than you if he were as tall. And +anyhow, he is much more graceful. He goes over like a bird, and you have to +hump yourself all up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I do, do I?” Emil caught her and kissed her saucy mouth +squarely, while she laughed and struggled and called, “’Médée! +’Médée!” +</p> + +<p> +“There, you see your ’Médée isn’t even big enough to get you +away from me. I could run away with you right now and he could only sit down +and cry about it. I’ll show you whether I have to hump myself!” +Laughing and panting, he picked Angélique up in his arms and began running +about the rectangle with her. Not until he saw Marie Shabata’s tiger eyes +flashing from the gloom of the basement doorway did he hand the disheveled +bride over to her husband. “There, go to your graceful; I haven’t +the heart to take you away from him.” +</p> + +<p> +Angélique clung to her husband and made faces at Emil over the white shoulder +of Amédée’s ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused at her air of +proprietorship and at Amédée’s shameless submission to it. He was +delighted with his friend’s good fortune. He liked to see and to think +about Amédée’s sunny, natural, happy love. +</p> + +<p> +He and Amédée had ridden and wrestled and larked together since they were lads +of twelve. On Sundays and holidays they were always arm in arm. It seemed +strange that now he should have to hide the thing that Amédée was so proud of, +that the feeling which gave one of them such happiness should bring the other +such despair. It was like that when Alexandra tested her seed-corn in the +spring, he mused. From two ears that had grown side by side, the grains of one +shot up joyfully into the light, projecting themselves into the future, and the +grains from the other lay still in the earth and rotted; and nobody knew why. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"></a>X</h2> + +<p> +While Emil and Carl were amusing themselves at the fair, Alexandra was at home, +busy with her account-books, which had been neglected of late. She was almost +through with her figures when she heard a cart drive up to the gate, and +looking out of the window she saw her two older brothers. They had seemed to +avoid her ever since Carl Linstrum’s arrival, four weeks ago that day, +and she hurried to the door to welcome them. She saw at once that they had come +with some very definite purpose. They followed her stiffly into the +sitting-room. Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the window and remained +standing, his hands behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“You are by yourself?” he asked, looking toward the doorway into +the parlor. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Carl and Emil went up to the Catholic fair.” +</p> + +<p> +For a few moments neither of the men spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Then Lou came out sharply. “How soon does he intend to go away from +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, Lou. Not for some time, I hope.” Alexandra +spoke in an even, quiet tone that often exasperated her brothers. They felt +that she was trying to be superior with them. +</p> + +<p> +Oscar spoke up grimly. “We thought we ought to tell you that people have +begun to talk,” he said meaningly. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra looked at him. “What about?” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar met her eyes blankly. “About you, keeping him here so long. It +looks bad for him to be hanging on to a woman this way. People think +you’re getting taken in.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra shut her account-book firmly. “Boys,” she said seriously, +“don’t let’s go on with this. We won’t come out +anywhere. I can’t take advice on such a matter. I know you mean well, but +you must not feel responsible for me in things of this sort. If we go on with +this talk it will only make hard feeling.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou whipped about from the window. “You ought to think a little about +your family. You’re making us all ridiculous.” +</p> + +<p> +“How am I?” +</p> + +<p> +“People are beginning to say you want to marry the fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and what is ridiculous about that?” +</p> + +<p> +Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. “Alexandra! Can’t you see +he’s just a tramp and he’s after your money? He wants to be taken +care of, he does!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, suppose I want to take care of him? Whose business is it but my +own?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know he’d get hold of your property?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’d get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar sat up suddenly and Lou clutched at his bristly hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Give him?” Lou shouted. “Our property, our homestead?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know about the homestead,” said Alexandra quietly. +“I know you and Oscar have always expected that it would be left to your +children, and I’m not sure but what you’re right. But I’ll do +exactly as I please with the rest of my land, boys.” +</p> + +<p> +“The rest of your land!” cried Lou, growing more excited every +minute. “Didn’t all the land come out of the homestead? It was +bought with money borrowed on the homestead, and Oscar and me worked ourselves +to the bone paying interest on it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you paid the interest. But when you married we made a division of +the land, and you were satisfied. I’ve made more on my farms since +I’ve been alone than when we all worked together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything you’ve made has come out of the original land that us +boys worked for, hasn’t it? The farms and all that comes out of them +belongs to us as a family.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. “Come now, Lou. Stick to the facts. +You are talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and ask him who owns my land, +and whether my titles are good.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou turned to his brother. “This is what comes of letting a woman meddle +in business,” he said bitterly. “We ought to have taken things in +our own hands years ago. But she liked to run things, and we humored her. We +thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We never thought you’d do anything +foolish.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk with her knuckles. “Listen, Lou. +Don’t talk wild. You say you ought to have taken things into your own +hands years ago. I suppose you mean before you left home. But how could you +take hold of what wasn’t there? I’ve got most of what I have now +since we divided the property; I’ve built it up myself, and it has +nothing to do with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar spoke up solemnly. “The property of a family really belongs to the +men of the family, no matter about the title. If anything goes wrong, +it’s the men that are held responsible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course,” Lou broke in. “Everybody knows that. Oscar +and me have always been easy-going and we’ve never made any fuss. We were +willing you should hold the land and have the good of it, but you got no right +to part with any of it. We worked in the fields to pay for the first land you +bought, and whatever’s come out of it has got to be kept in the +family.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed on the one point he could see. +“The property of a family belongs to the men of the family, because they +are held responsible, and because they do the work.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra looked from one to the other, her eyes full of indignation. She had +been impatient before, but now she was beginning to feel angry. “And what +about my work?” she asked in an unsteady voice. +</p> + +<p> +Lou looked at the carpet. “Oh, now, Alexandra, you always took it pretty +easy! Of course we wanted you to. You liked to manage round, and we always +humored you. We realize you were a great deal of help to us. There’s no +woman anywhere around that knows as much about business as you do, and +we’ve always been proud of that, and thought you were pretty smart. But, +of course, the real work always fell on us. Good advice is all right, but it +don’t get the weeds out of the corn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the crop, and it sometimes keeps the +fields for corn to grow in,” said Alexandra dryly. “Why, Lou, I can +remember when you and Oscar wanted to sell this homestead and all the +improvements to old preacher Ericson for two thousand dollars. If I’d +consented, you’d have gone down to the river and scraped along on poor +farms for the rest of your lives. When I put in our first field of alfalfa you +both opposed me, just because I first heard about it from a young man who had +been to the University. You said I was being taken in then, and all the +neighbors said so. You know as well as I do that alfalfa has been the salvation +of this country. You all laughed at me when I said our land here was about +ready for wheat, and I had to raise three big wheat crops before the neighbors +quit putting all their land in corn. Why, I remember you cried, Lou, when we +put in the first big wheat-planting, and said everybody was laughing at +us.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou turned to Oscar. “That’s the woman of it; if she tells you to +put in a crop, she thinks she’s put it in. It makes women conceited to +meddle in business. I shouldn’t think you’d want to remind us how +hard you were on us, Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. Conditions were hard. Maybe I +would never have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly didn’t choose to +be the kind of girl I was. If you take even a vine and cut it back again and +again, it grows hard, like a tree.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou felt that they were wandering from the point, and that in digression +Alexandra might unnerve him. He wiped his forehead with a jerk of his +handkerchief. “We never doubted you, Alexandra. We never questioned +anything you did. You’ve always had your own way. But you can’t +expect us to sit like stumps and see you done out of the property by any loafer +who happens along, and making yourself ridiculous into the bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +Oscar rose. “Yes,” he broke in, “everybody’s laughing +to see you get took in; at your age, too. Everybody knows he’s nearly +five years younger than you, and is after your money. Why, Alexandra, you are +forty years old!” +</p> + +<p> +“All that doesn’t concern anybody but Carl and me. Go to town and +ask your lawyers what you can do to restrain me from disposing of my own +property. And I advise you to do what they tell you; for the authority you can +exert by law is the only influence you will ever have over me again.” +Alexandra rose. “I think I would rather not have lived to find out what I +have to-day,” she said quietly, closing her desk. +</p> + +<p> +Lou and Oscar looked at each other questioningly. There seemed to be nothing to +do but to go, and they walked out. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t do business with women,” Oscar said heavily as he +clambered into the cart. “But anyhow, we’ve had our say, at +last.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou scratched his head. “Talk of that kind might come too high, you know; +but she’s apt to be sensible. You hadn’t ought to said that about +her age, though, Oscar. I’m afraid that hurt her feelings; and the worst +thing we can do is to make her sore at us. She’d marry him out of +contrariness.” +</p> + +<p> +“I only meant,” said Oscar, “that she is old enough to know +better, and she is. If she was going to marry, she ought to done it long ago, +and not go making a fool of herself now.” +</p> + +<p> +Lou looked anxious, nevertheless. “Of course,” he reflected +hopefully and inconsistently, “Alexandra ain’t much like other +women-folks. Maybe it won’t make her sore. Maybe she’d as soon be +forty as not!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"></a>XI</h2> + +<p> +Emil came home at about half-past seven o’clock that evening. Old Ivar +met him at the windmill and took his horse, and the young man went directly +into the house. He called to his sister and she answered from her bedroom, +behind the sitting-room, saying that she was lying down. +</p> + +<p> +Emil went to her door. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I see you for a minute?” he asked. “I want to talk to +you about something before Carl comes.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra rose quickly and came to the door. “Where is Carl?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted to talk to him, so he rode +over to Oscar’s with them. Are you coming out?” Emil asked +impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sit down. I’ll be dressed in a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra closed her door, and Emil sank down on the old slat lounge and sat +with his head in his hands. When his sister came out, he looked up, not knowing +whether the interval had been short or long, and he was surprised to see that +the room had grown quite dark. That was just as well; it would be easier to +talk if he were not under the gaze of those clear, deliberate eyes, that saw so +far in some directions and were so blind in others. Alexandra, too, was glad of +the dusk. Her face was swollen from crying. +</p> + +<p> +Emil started up and then sat down again. “Alexandra,” he said +slowly, in his deep young baritone, “I don’t want to go away to law +school this fall. Let me put it off another year. I want to take a year off and +look around. It’s awfully easy to rush into a profession you don’t +really like, and awfully hard to get out of it. Linstrum and I have been +talking about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Emil. Only don’t go off looking for land.” She +came up and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been wishing you +could stay with me this winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just what I don’t want to do, Alexandra. I’m +restless. I want to go to a new place. I want to go down to the City of Mexico +to join one of the University fellows who’s at the head of an electrical +plant. He wrote me he could give me a little job, enough to pay my way, and I +could look around and see what I want to do. I want to go as soon as harvest is +over. I guess Lou and Oscar will be sore about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose they will.” Alexandra sat down on the lounge beside him. +“They are very angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. They will not +come here again.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he did not notice the sadness of her +tone. He was thinking about the reckless life he meant to live in Mexico. +</p> + +<p> +“What about?” he asked absently. +</p> + +<p> +“About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am going to marry him, and that +some of my property will get away from them.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil shrugged his shoulders. “What nonsense!” he murmured. +“Just like them.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra drew back. “Why nonsense, Emil?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’ve never thought of such a thing, have you? They always +have to have something to fuss about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Emil,” said his sister slowly, “you ought not to take things +for granted. Do you agree with them that I have no right to change my way of +living?” +</p> + +<p> +Emil looked at the outline of his sister’s head in the dim light. They +were sitting close together and he somehow felt that she could hear his +thoughts. He was silent for a moment, and then said in an embarrassed tone, +“Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do whatever you want to. I’ll +always back you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to you if I married +Carl?” +</p> + +<p> +Emil fidgeted. The issue seemed to him too far-fetched to warrant discussion. +“Why, no. I should be surprised if you wanted to. I can’t see +exactly why. But that’s none of my business. You ought to do as you +please. Certainly you ought not to pay any attention to what the boys +say.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra sighed. “I had hoped you might understand, a little, why I do +want to. But I suppose that’s too much to expect. I’ve had a pretty +lonely life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is the only friend I have ever +had.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil was awake now; a name in her last sentence roused him. He put out his hand +and took his sister’s awkwardly. “You ought to do just as you wish, +and I think Carl’s a fine fellow. He and I would always get on. I +don’t believe any of the things the boys say about him, honest I +don’t. They are suspicious of him because he’s intelligent. You +know their way. They’ve been sore at me ever since you let me go away to +college. They’re always trying to catch me up. If I were you, I +wouldn’t pay any attention to them. There’s nothing to get upset +about. Carl’s a sensible fellow. He won’t mind them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. If they talk to him the way they did to me, I think +he’ll go away.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil grew more and more uneasy. “Think so? Well, Marie said it would +serve us all right if you walked off with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would.” Alexandra’s +voice broke. +</p> + +<p> +Emil began unlacing his leggings. “Why don’t you talk to her about +it? There’s Carl, I hear his horse. I guess I’ll go upstairs and +get my boots off. No, I don’t want any supper. We had supper at five +o’clock, at the fair.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil was glad to escape and get to his own room. He was a little ashamed for +his sister, though he had tried not to show it. He felt that there was +something indecorous in her proposal, and she did seem to him somewhat +ridiculous. There was trouble enough in the world, he reflected, as he threw +himself upon his bed, without people who were forty years old imagining they +wanted to get married. In the darkness and silence Emil was not likely to think +long about Alexandra. Every image slipped away but one. He had seen Marie in +the crowd that afternoon. She sold candy at the fair. <i>Why</i> had she ever +run away with Frank Shabata, and how could she go on laughing and working and +taking an interest in things? Why did she like so many people, and why had she +seemed pleased when all the French and Bohemian boys, and the priest himself, +crowded round her candy stand? Why did she care about any one but him? Why +could he never, never find the thing he looked for in her playful, affectionate +eyes? +</p> + +<p> +Then he fell to imagining that he looked once more and found it there, and what +it would be like if she loved him,—she who, as Alexandra said, could give +her whole heart. In that dream he could lie for hours, as if in a trance. His +spirit went out of his body and crossed the fields to Marie Shabata. +</p> + +<p> +At the University dances the girls had often looked wonderingly at the tall +young Swede with the fine head, leaning against the wall and frowning, his arms +folded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling or the floor. All the girls were a little +afraid of him. He was distinguished-looking, and not the jollying kind. They +felt that he was too intense and preoccupied. There was something queer about +him. Emil’s fraternity rather prided itself upon its dances, and +sometimes he did his duty and danced every dance. But whether he was on the +floor or brooding in a corner, he was always thinking about Marie Shabata. For +two years the storm had been gathering in him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"></a>XII</h2> + +<p> +Carl came into the sitting-room while Alexandra was lighting the lamp. She +looked up at him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp shoulders stooped as if +he were very tired, his face was pale, and there were bluish shadows under his +dark eyes. His anger had burned itself out and left him sick and disgusted. +</p> + +<p> +“You have seen Lou and Oscar?” Alexandra asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” His eyes avoided hers. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra took a deep breath. “And now you are going away. I thought +so.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed the dark lock back from his forehead +with his white, nervous hand. “What a hopeless position you are in, +Alexandra!” he exclaimed feverishly. “It is your fate to be always +surrounded by little men. And I am no better than the rest. I am too little to +face the criticism of even such men as Lou and Oscar. Yes, I am going away; +to-morrow. I cannot even ask you to give me a promise until I have something to +offer you. I thought, perhaps, I could do that; but I find I +can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“What good comes of offering people things they don’t need?” +Alexandra asked sadly. “I don’t need money. But I have needed you +for a great many years. I wonder why I have been permitted to prosper, if it is +only to take my friends away from me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t deceive myself,” Carl said frankly. “I know +that I am going away on my own account. I must make the usual effort. I must +have something to show for myself. To take what you would give me, I should +have to be either a very large man or a very small one, and I am only in the +middle class.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra sighed. “I have a feeling that if you go away, you will not +come back. Something will happen to one of us, or to both. People have to +snatch at happiness when they can, in this world. It is always easier to lose +than to find. What I have is yours, if you care enough about me to take +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl rose and looked up at the picture of John Bergson. “But I +can’t, my dear, I can’t! I will go North at once. Instead of idling +about in California all winter, I shall be getting my bearings up there. I +won’t waste another week. Be patient with me, Alexandra. Give me a +year!” +</p> + +<p> +“As you will,” said Alexandra wearily. “All at once, in a +single day, I lose everything; and I do not know why. Emil, too, is going +away.” Carl was still studying John Bergson’s face and +Alexandra’s eyes followed his. “Yes,” she said, “if he +could have seen all that would come of the task he gave me, he would have been +sorry. I hope he does not see me now. I hope that he is among the old people of +his blood and country, and that tidings do not reach him from the New +World.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"></a>PART III.<br/> +Winter Memories</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"></a>I</h2> + +<p> +Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season in which Nature +recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between the fruitfulness of autumn and +the passion of spring. The birds have gone. The teeming life that goes on down +in the long grass is exterminated. The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits +run shivering from one frozen garden patch to another and are hard put to it to +find frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes roam the wintry waste, +howling for food. The variegated fields are all one color now; the pastures, +the stubble, the roads, the sky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and +trees are scarcely perceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they +have taken on. The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walk in +the roads or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country, and the spirit +is oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One could easily believe that in that +dead landscape the germs of life and fruitfulness were extinct forever. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra has settled back into her old routine. There are weekly letters from +Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl went away. To avoid awkward +encounters in the presence of curious spectators, she has stopped going to the +Norwegian Church and drives up to the Reform Church at Hanover, or goes with +Marie Shabata to the Catholic Church, locally known as “the French +Church.” She has not told Marie about Carl, or her differences with her +brothers. She was never very communicative about her own affairs, and when she +came to the point, an instinct told her that about such things she and Marie +would not understand one another. +</p> + +<p> +Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family misunderstandings might deprive her of +her yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day of December Alexandra +telephoned Annie that to-morrow she would send Ivar over for her mother, and +the next day the old lady arrived with her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee +had always entered Alexandra’s sitting-room with the same exclamation, +“Now we be yust-a like old times!” She enjoyed the liberty +Alexandra gave her, and hearing her own language about her all day long. Here +she could wear her nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, listen to Ivar +reading the Bible, and here she could run about among the stables in a pair of +Emil’s old boots. Though she was bent almost double, she was as spry as a +gopher. Her face was as brown as if it had been varnished, and as full of +wrinkles as a washerwoman’s hands. She had three jolly old teeth left in +the front of her mouth, and when she grinned she looked very knowing, as if +when you found out how to take it, life wasn’t half bad. While she and +Alexandra patched and pieced and quilted, she talked incessantly about stories +she read in a Swedish family paper, telling the plots in great detail; or about +her life on a dairy farm in Gottland when she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot +which were the printed stories and which were the real stories, it all seemed +so far away. She loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, +before she went to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. “It +sends good dreams,” she would say with a twinkle in her eye. +</p> + +<p> +When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for a week, Marie Shabata telephoned one +morning to say that Frank had gone to town for the day, and she would like them +to come over for coffee in the afternoon. Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out and iron +her new cross-stitched apron, which she had finished only the night before; a +checked gingham apron worked with a design ten inches broad across the bottom; +a hunting scene, with fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen. Mrs. Lee was +firm with herself at dinner, and refused a second helping of apple dumplings. +“I ta-ank I save up,” she said with a giggle. +</p> + +<p> +At two o’clock in the afternoon Alexandra’s cart drove up to the +Shabatas’ gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee’s red shawl come bobbing up +the path. She ran to the door and pulled the old woman into the house with a +hug, helping her to take off her wraps while Alexandra blanketed the horse +outside. Mrs. Lee had put on her best black satine dress—she abominated +woolen stuffs, even in winter—and a crocheted collar, fastened with a big +pale gold pin, containing faded daguerreotypes of her father and mother. She +had not worn her apron for fear of rumpling it, and now she shook it out and +tied it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie drew back and threw up her +hands, exclaiming, “Oh, what a beauty! I’ve never seen this one +before, have I, Mrs. Lee?” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman giggled and ducked her head. “No, yust las’ night I +ma-ake. See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My sister send +from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie ran to the door again. “Come in, Alexandra. I have been looking at +Mrs. Lee’s apron. Do stop on your way home and show it to Mrs. Hiller. +She’s crazy about cross-stitch.” +</p> + +<p> +While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, Mrs. Lee went out to the kitchen and +settled herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove, looking with great +interest at the table, set for three, with a white cloth, and a pot of pink +geraniums in the middle. “My, a-an’t you gotta fine plants; such-a +much flower. How you keep from freeze?” +</p> + +<p> +She pointed to the window-shelves, full of blooming fuchsias and geraniums. +</p> + +<p> +“I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it’s very cold I put +them all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights I only put +newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing, but when they +don’t bloom he says, ‘What’s the matter with the darned +things?’—What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?” +</p> + +<p> +“He got to Dawson before the river froze, and now I suppose I won’t +hear any more until spring. Before he left California he sent me a box of +orange flowers, but they didn’t keep very well. I have brought a bunch of +Emil’s letters for you.” Alexandra came out from the sitting-room +and pinched Marie’s cheek playfully. “You don’t look as if +the weather ever froze you up. Never have colds, do you? That’s a good +girl. She had dark red cheeks like this when she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. +She looked like some queer foreign kind of a doll. I’ve never forgot the +first time I saw you in Mieklejohn’s store, Marie, the time father was +lying sick. Carl and I were talking about that before he went away.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. When are you going to send +Emil’s Christmas box?” +</p> + +<p> +“It ought to have gone before this. I’ll have to send it by mail +now, to get it there in time.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbasket. “I knit this +for him. It’s a good color, don’t you think? Will you please put it +in with your things and tell him it’s from me, to wear when he goes +serenading.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra laughed. “I don’t believe he goes serenading much. He +says in one letter that the Mexican ladies are said to be very beautiful, but +that don’t seem to me very warm praise.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie tossed her head. “Emil can’t fool me. If he’s bought a +guitar, he goes serenading. Who wouldn’t, with all those Spanish girls +dropping flowers down from their windows! I’d sing to them every night, +wouldn’t you, Mrs. Lee?” +</p> + +<p> +The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent down and opened the oven +door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the tidy kitchen. “My, +somet’ing smell good!” She turned to Alexandra with a wink, her +three yellow teeth making a brave show, “I ta-ank dat stop my yaw from +ache no more!” she said contentedly. +</p> + +<p> +Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, stuffed with stewed apricots, +and began to dust them over with powdered sugar. “I hope you’ll +like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians always like them with their +coffee. But if you don’t, I have a coffee-cake with nuts and poppy seeds. +Alexandra, will you get the cream jug? I put it in the window to keep +cool.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Bohemians,” said Alexandra, as they drew up to the table, +“certainly know how to make more kinds of bread than any other people in +the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the church supper that she could +make seven kinds of fancy bread, but Marie could make a dozen.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumb and +forefinger and weighed it critically. “Yust like-a fedders,” she +pronounced with satisfaction. “My, a-an’t dis nice!” she +exclaimed as she stirred her coffee. “I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly now, +too, I ta-ank.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell to talking of their +own affairs. “I was afraid you had a cold when I talked to you over the +telephone the other night, Marie. What was the matter, had you been +crying?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I had,” Marie smiled guiltily. “Frank was out late +that night. Don’t you get lonely sometimes in the winter, when everybody +has gone away?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it was something like that. If I hadn’t had company, +I’d have run over to see for myself. If you get down-hearted, what will +become of the rest of us?” Alexandra asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t, very often. There’s Mrs. Lee without any +coffee!” +</p> + +<p> +Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marie and Alexandra +went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the old lady wanted to borrow. +“Better put on your coat, Alexandra. It’s cold up there, and I have +no idea where those patterns are. I may have to look through my old +trunks.” Marie caught up a shawl and opened the stair door, running up +the steps ahead of her guest. “While I go through the bureau drawers, you +might look in those hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over where Frank’s +clothes hang. There are a lot of odds and ends in them.” +</p> + +<p> +She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandra went into the +clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding a slender elastic yellow stick +in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“What in the world is this, Marie? You don’t mean to tell me Frank +ever carried such a thing?” +</p> + +<p> +Marie blinked at it with astonishment and sat down on the floor. “Where +did you find it? I didn’t know he had kept it. I haven’t seen it +for years.” +</p> + +<p> +“It really is a cane, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. One he brought from the old country. He used to carry it when I +first knew him. Isn’t it foolish? Poor Frank!” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. “He must have +looked funny!” +</p> + +<p> +Marie was thoughtful. “No, he didn’t, really. It didn’t seem +out of place. He used to be awfully gay like that when he was a young man. I +guess people always get what’s hardest for them, Alexandra.” Marie +gathered the shawl closer about her and still looked hard at the cane. +“Frank would be all right in the right place,” she said +reflectively. “He ought to have a different kind of wife, for one thing. +Do you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly the right sort of woman for +Frank—now. The trouble is you almost have to marry a man before you can +find out the sort of wife he needs; and usually it’s exactly the sort you +are not. Then what are you going to do about it?” she asked candidly. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra confessed she didn’t know. “However,” she added, +“it seems to me that you get along with Frank about as well as any woman +I’ve ever seen or heard of could.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and blowing her warm breath softly out +into the frosty air. “No; I was spoiled at home. I like my own way, and I +have a quick tongue. When Frank brags, I say sharp things, and he never +forgets. He goes over and over it in his mind; I can feel him. Then I’m +too giddy. Frank’s wife ought to be timid, and she ought not to care +about another living thing in the world but just Frank! I didn’t, when I +married him, but I suppose I was too young to stay like that.” Marie +sighed. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so frankly about her husband before, and +she felt that it was wiser not to encourage her. No good, she reasoned, ever +came from talking about such things, and while Marie was thinking aloud, +Alexandra had been steadily searching the hat-boxes. “Aren’t these +the patterns, Maria?” +</p> + +<p> +Maria sprang up from the floor. “Sure enough, we were looking for +patterns, weren’t we? I’d forgot about everything but Frank’s +other wife. I’ll put that away.” +</p> + +<p> +She poked the cane behind Frank’s Sunday clothes, and though she laughed, +Alexandra saw there were tears in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall, and +Marie’s visitors thought they must be getting home. She went out to the +cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs. Lee while Alexandra took +the blanket off her horse. As they drove away, Marie turned and went slowly +back to the house. She took up the package of letters Alexandra had brought, +but she did not read them. She turned them over and looked at the foreign +stamps, and then sat watching the flying snow while the dusk deepened in the +kitchen and the stove sent out a red glow. +</p> + +<p> +Marie knew perfectly well that Emil’s letters were written more for her +than for Alexandra. They were not the sort of letters that a young man writes +to his sister. They were both more personal and more painstaking; full of +descriptions of the gay life in the old Mexican capital in the days when the +strong hand of Porfirio Diaz was still strong. He told about bull-fights and +cock-fights, churches and <i>fiestas</i>, the flower-markets and the fountains, +the music and dancing, the people of all nations he met in the Italian +restaurants on San Francisco Street. In short, they were the kind of letters a +young man writes to a woman when he wishes himself and his life to seem +interesting to her, when he wishes to enlist her imagination in his behalf. +</p> + +<p> +Marie, when she was alone or when she sat sewing in the evening, often thought +about what it must be like down there where Emil was; where there were flowers +and street bands everywhere, and carriages rattling up and down, and where +there was a little blind boot-black in front of the cathedral who could play +any tune you asked for by dropping the lids of blacking-boxes on the stone +steps. When everything is done and over for one at twenty-three, it is pleasant +to let the mind wander forth and follow a young adventurer who has life before +him. “And if it had not been for me,” she thought, “Frank +might still be free like that, and having a good time making people admire him. +Poor Frank, getting married wasn’t very good for him either. I’m +afraid I do set people against him, as he says. I seem, somehow, to give him +away all the time. Perhaps he would try to be agreeable to people again, if I +were not around. It seems as if I always make him just as bad as he can +be.” +</p> + +<p> +Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon as the last +satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After that day the younger woman +seemed to shrink more and more into herself. When she was with Alexandra she +was not spontaneous and frank as she used to be. She seemed to be brooding over +something, and holding something back. The weather had a good deal to do with +their seeing less of each other than usual. There had not been such snowstorms +in twenty years, and the path across the fields was drifted deep from Christmas +until March. When the two neighbors went to see each other, they had to go +round by the wagon-road, which was twice as far. They telephoned each other +almost every night, though in January there was a stretch of three weeks when +the wires were down, and when the postman did not come at all. +</p> + +<p> +Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. Hiller, who was +crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lame shoemaker, to take care +of her; and she went to the French Church, whatever the weather. She was a +sincerely devout girl. She prayed for herself and for Frank, and for Emil, +among the temptations of that gay, corrupt old city. She found more comfort in +the Church that winter than ever before. It seemed to come closer to her, and +to fill an emptiness that ached in her heart. She tried to be patient with her +husband. He and his hired man usually played California Jack in the evening. +Marie sat sewing or crocheting and tried to take a friendly interest in the +game, but she was always thinking about the wide fields outside, where the snow +was drifting over the fences; and about the orchard, where the snow was falling +and packing, crust over crust. When she went out into the dark kitchen to fix +her plants for the night, she used to stand by the window and look out at the +white fields, or watch the currents of snow whirling over the orchard. She +seemed to feel the weight of all the snow that lay down there. The branches had +become so hard that they wounded your hand if you but tried to break a twig. +And yet, down under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, the secret of +life was still safe, warm as the blood in one’s heart; and the spring +would come again! Oh, it would come again! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"></a>II</h2> + +<p> +If Alexandra had had much imagination she might have guessed what was going on +in Marie’s mind, and she would have seen long before what was going on in +Emil’s. But that, as Emil himself had more than once reflected, was +Alexandra’s blind side, and her life had not been of the kind to sharpen +her vision. Her training had all been toward the end of making her proficient +in what she had undertaken to do. Her personal life, her own realization of +herself, was almost a subconscious existence; like an underground river that +came to the surface only here and there, at intervals months apart, and then +sank again to flow on under her own fields. Nevertheless, the underground +stream was there, and it was because she had so much personality to put into +her enterprises and succeeded in putting it into them so completely, that her +affairs prospered better than those of her neighbors. +</p> + +<p> +There were certain days in her life, outwardly uneventful, which Alexandra +remembered as peculiarly happy; days when she was close to the flat, fallow +world about her, and felt, as it were, in her own body the joyous germination +in the soil. There were days, too, which she and Emil had spent together, upon +which she loved to look back. There had been such a day when they were down on +the river in the dry year, looking over the land. They had made an early start +one morning and had driven a long way before noon. When Emil said he was +hungry, they drew back from the road, gave Brigham his oats among the bushes, +and climbed up to the top of a grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the shade +of some little elm trees. The river was clear there, and shallow, since there +had been no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling sand. Under the +overhanging willows of the opposite bank there was an inlet where the water was +deeper and flowed so slowly that it seemed to sleep in the sun. In this little +bay a single wild duck was swimming and diving and preening her feathers, +disporting herself very happily in the flickering light and shade. They sat for +a long time, watching the solitary bird take its pleasure. No living thing had +ever seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild duck. Emil must have felt +about it as she did, for afterward, when they were at home, he used sometimes +to say, “Sister, you know our duck down there—” Alexandra +remembered that day as one of the happiest in her life. Years afterward she +thought of the duck as still there, swimming and diving all by herself in the +sunlight, a kind of enchanted bird that did not know age or change. +</p> + +<p> +Most of Alexandra’s happy memories were as impersonal as this one; yet to +her they were very personal. Her mind was a white book, with clear writing +about weather and beasts and growing things. Not many people would have cared +to read it; only a happy few. She had never been in love, she had never +indulged in sentimental reveries. Even as a girl she had looked upon men as +work-fellows. She had grown up in serious times. +</p> + +<p> +There was one fancy indeed, which persisted through her girlhood. It most often +came to her on Sunday mornings, the one day in the week when she lay late abed +listening to the familiar morning sounds; the windmill singing in the brisk +breeze, Emil whistling as he blacked his boots down by the kitchen door. +Sometimes, as she lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes closed, she used to have +an illusion of being lifted up bodily and carried lightly by some one very +strong. It was a man, certainly, who carried her, but he was like no man she +knew; he was much larger and stronger and swifter, and he carried her as easily +as if she were a sheaf of wheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes closed, she +could feel that he was yellow like the sunlight, and there was the smell of +ripe cornfields about him. She could feel him approach, bend over her and lift +her, and then she could feel herself being carried swiftly off across the +fields. After such a reverie she would rise hastily, angry with herself, and go +down to the bath-house that was partitioned off the kitchen shed. There she +would stand in a tin tub and prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by +pouring buckets of cold well-water over her gleaming white body which no man on +the Divide could have carried very far. +</p> + +<p> +As she grew older, this fancy more often came to her when she was tired than +when she was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had been in the open all +day, overseeing the branding of the cattle or the loading of the pigs, she +would come in chilled, take a concoction of spices and warm home-made wine, and +go to bed with her body actually aching with fatigue. Then, just before she +went to sleep, she had the old sensation of being lifted and carried by a +strong being who took from her all her bodily weariness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_PART4" id="link2H_PART4"></a>PART IV.<br/> +The White Mulberry Tree</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"></a>I</h2> + +<p> +The French Church, properly the Church of Sainte-Agnes, stood upon a hill. The +high, narrow, red-brick building, with its tall steeple and steep roof, could +be seen for miles across the wheatfields, though the little town of +Sainte-Agnes was completely hidden away at the foot of the hill. The church +looked powerful and triumphant there on its eminence, so high above the rest of +the landscape, with miles of warm color lying at its feet, and by its position +and setting it reminded one of some of the churches built long ago in the +wheat-lands of middle France. +</p> + +<p> +Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson was driving along one of the many +roads that led through the rich French farming country to the big church. The +sunlight was shining directly in her face, and there was a blaze of light all +about the red church on the hill. Beside Alexandra lounged a strikingly exotic +figure in a tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, and a black velvet jacket sewn with +silver buttons. Emil had returned only the night before, and his sister was so +proud of him that she decided at once to take him up to the church supper, and +to make him wear the Mexican costume he had brought home in his trunk. +“All the girls who have stands are going to wear fancy costumes,” +she argued, “and some of the boys. Marie is going to tell fortunes, and +she sent to Omaha for a Bohemian dress her father brought back from a visit to +the old country. If you wear those clothes, they will all be pleased. And you +must take your guitar. Everybody ought to do what they can to help along, and +we have never done much. We are not a talented family.” +</p> + +<p> +The supper was to be at six o’clock, in the basement of the church, and +afterward there would be a fair, with charades and an auction. Alexandra had +set out from home early, leaving the house to Signa and Nelse Jensen, who were +to be married next week. Signa had shyly asked to have the wedding put off +until Emil came home. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. As they drove through the +rolling French country toward the westering sun and the stalwart church, she +was thinking of that time long ago when she and Emil drove back from the river +valley to the still unconquered Divide. Yes, she told herself, it had been +worth while; both Emil and the country had become what she had hoped. Out of +her father’s children there was one who was fit to cope with the world, +who had not been tied to the plow, and who had a personality apart from the +soil. And that, she reflected, was what she had worked for. She felt well +satisfied with her life. +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the church, a score of teams were hitched in front of the +basement doors that opened from the hillside upon the sanded terrace, where the +boys wrestled and had jumping-matches. Amédée Chevalier, a proud father of one +week, rushed out and embraced Emil. Amédée was an only son,—hence he was +a very rich young man,—but he meant to have twenty children himself, like +his uncle Xavier. “Oh, Emil,” he cried, hugging his old friend +rapturously, “why ain’t you been up to see my boy? You come +to-morrow, sure? Emil, you wanna get a boy right off! It’s the greatest +thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick at all. Everything just fine. That boy +he come into this world laughin’, and he been laughin’ ever since. +You come an’ see!” He pounded Emil’s ribs to emphasize each +announcement. +</p> + +<p> +Emil caught his arms. “Stop, Amédée. You’re knocking the wind out +of me. I brought him cups and spoons and blankets and moccasins enough for an +orphan asylum. I’m awful glad it’s a boy, sure enough!” +</p> + +<p> +The young men crowded round Emil to admire his costume and to tell him in a +breath everything that had happened since he went away. Emil had more friends +up here in the French country than down on Norway Creek. The French and +Bohemian boys were spirited and jolly, liked variety, and were as much +predisposed to favor anything new as the Scandinavian boys were to reject it. +The Norwegian and Swedish lads were much more self-centred, apt to be +egotistical and jealous. They were cautious and reserved with Emil because he +had been away to college, and were prepared to take him down if he should try +to put on airs with them. The French boys liked a bit of swagger, and they were +always delighted to hear about anything new: new clothes, new games, new songs, +new dances. Now they carried Emil off to show him the club room they had just +fitted up over the post-office, down in the village. They ran down the hill in +a drove, all laughing and chattering at once, some in French, some in English. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed basement where the women were setting +the tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building a little tent of shawls +where she was to tell fortunes. She sprang down and ran toward Alexandra, +stopping short and looking at her in disappointment. Alexandra nodded to her +encouragingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have taken him off to show him +something. You won’t know him. He is a man now, sure enough. I have no +boy left. He smokes terrible-smelling Mexican cigarettes and talks Spanish. How +pretty you look, child. Where did you get those beautiful earrings?” +</p> + +<p> +“They belonged to father’s mother. He always promised them to me. +He sent them with the dress and said I could keep them.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven cloth, a white bodice and kirtle, +a yellow silk turban wound low over her brown curls, and long coral pendants in +her ears. Her ears had been pierced against a piece of cork by her great-aunt +when she was seven years old. In those germless days she had worn bits of +broom-straw, plucked from the common sweeping-broom, in the lobes until the +holes were healed and ready for little gold rings. +</p> + +<p> +When Emil came back from the village, he lingered outside on the terrace with +the boys. Marie could hear him talking and strumming on his guitar while Raoul +Marcel sang falsetto. She was vexed with him for staying out there. It made her +very nervous to hear him and not to see him; for, certainly, she told herself, +she was not going out to look for him. When the supper bell rang and the boys +came trooping in to get seats at the first table, she forgot all about her +annoyance and ran to greet the tallest of the crowd, in his conspicuous attire. +She didn’t mind showing her embarrassment at all. She blushed and laughed +excitedly as she gave Emil her hand, and looked delightedly at the black velvet +coat that brought out his fair skin and fine blond head. Marie was incapable of +being lukewarm about anything that pleased her. She simply did not know how to +give a half-hearted response. When she was delighted, she was as likely as not +to stand on her tip-toes and clap her hands. If people laughed at her, she +laughed with them. +</p> + +<p> +“Do the men wear clothes like that every day, in the street?” She +caught Emil by his sleeve and turned him about. “Oh, I wish I lived where +people wore things like that! Are the buttons real silver? Put on the hat, +please. What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear it? Why don’t you tell +us about the bull-fights?” +</p> + +<p> +She wanted to wring all his experiences from him at once, without waiting a +moment. Emil smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at her with his old, +brooding gaze, while the French girls fluttered about him in their white +dresses and ribbons, and Alexandra watched the scene with pride. Several of the +French girls, Marie knew, were hoping that Emil would take them to supper, and +she was relieved when he took only his sister. Marie caught Frank’s arm +and dragged him to the same table, managing to get seats opposite the Bergsons, +so that she could hear what they were talking about. Alexandra made Emil tell +Mrs. Xavier Chevalier, the mother of the twenty, about how he had seen a famous +matador killed in the bull-ring. Marie listened to every word, only taking her +eyes from Emil to watch Frank’s plate and keep it filled. When Emil +finished his account,—bloody enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier and to make +her feel thankful that she was not a matador,—Marie broke out with a +volley of questions. How did the women dress when they went to bull-fights? Did +they wear mantillas? Did they never wear hats? +</p> + +<p> +After supper the young people played charades for the amusement of their +elders, who sat gossiping between their guesses. All the shops in Sainte-Agnes +were closed at eight o’clock that night, so that the merchants and their +clerks could attend the fair. The auction was the liveliest part of the +entertainment, for the French boys always lost their heads when they began to +bid, satisfied that their extravagance was in a good cause. After all the +pincushions and sofa pillows and embroidered slippers were sold, Emil +precipitated a panic by taking out one of his turquoise shirt studs, which +every one had been admiring, and handing it to the auctioneer. All the French +girls clamored for it, and their sweethearts bid against each other recklessly. +Marie wanted it, too, and she kept making signals to Frank, which he took a +sour pleasure in disregarding. He didn’t see the use of making a fuss +over a fellow just because he was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise went +to Malvina Sauvage, the French banker’s daughter, Marie shrugged her +shoulders and betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where she began to +shuffle her cards by the light of a tallow candle, calling out, +“Fortunes, fortunes!” +</p> + +<p> +The young priest, Father Duchesne, went first to have his fortune read. Marie +took his long white hand, looked at it, and then began to run off her cards. +“I see a long journey across water for you, Father. You will go to a town +all cut up by water; built on islands, it seems to be, with rivers and green +fields all about. And you will visit an old lady with a white cap and gold +hoops in her ears, and you will be very happy there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mais, oui,” said the priest, with a melancholy smile. +“C’est L’Isle-Adam, chez ma mère. Vous êtes très savante, ma +fille.” He patted her yellow turban, calling, “Venez donc, mes +garçons! Il y a ici une véritable clairvoyante!” +</p> + +<p> +Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulging in a light irony that amused the +crowd. She told old Brunot, the miser, that he would lose all his money, marry +a girl of sixteen, and live happily on a crust. Sholte, the fat Russian boy, +who lived for his stomach, was to be disappointed in love, grow thin, and shoot +himself from despondency. Amédée was to have twenty children, and nineteen of +them were to be girls. Amédée slapped Frank on the back and asked him why he +didn’t see what the fortune-teller would promise him. But Frank shook off +his friendly hand and grunted, “She tell my fortune long ago; bad +enough!” Then he withdrew to a corner and sat glowering at his wife. +</p> + +<p> +Frank’s case was all the more painful because he had no one in particular +to fix his jealousy upon. Sometimes he could have thanked the man who would +bring him evidence against his wife. He had discharged a good farm-boy, Jan +Smirka, because he thought Marie was fond of him; but she had not seemed to +miss Jan when he was gone, and she had been just as kind to the next boy. The +farm-hands would always do anything for Marie; Frank couldn’t find one so +surly that he would not make an effort to please her. At the bottom of his +heart Frank knew well enough that if he could once give up his grudge, his wife +would come back to him. But he could never in the world do that. The grudge was +fundamental. Perhaps he could not have given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he +got more satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than he would have got out +of being loved. If he could once have made Marie thoroughly unhappy, he might +have relented and raised her from the dust. But she had never humbled herself. +In the first days of their love she had been his slave; she had admired him +abandonedly. But the moment he began to bully her and to be unjust, she began +to draw away; at first in tearful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken disgust. +The distance between them had widened and hardened. It no longer contracted and +brought them suddenly together. The spark of her life went somewhere else, and +he was always watching to surprise it. He knew that somewhere she must get a +feeling to live upon, for she was not a woman who could live without loving. He +wanted to prove to himself the wrong he felt. What did she hide in her heart? +Where did it go? Even Frank had his churlish delicacies; he never reminded her +of how much she had once loved him. For that Marie was grateful to him. +</p> + +<p> +While Marie was chattering to the French boys, Amédée called Emil to the back +of the room and whispered to him that they were going to play a joke on the +girls. At eleven o’clock, Amédée was to go up to the switchboard in the +vestibule and turn off the electric lights, and every boy would have a chance +to kiss his sweetheart before Father Duchesne could find his way up the stairs +to turn the current on again. The only difficulty was the candle in +Marie’s tent; perhaps, as Emil had no sweetheart, he would oblige the +boys by blowing out the candle. Emil said he would undertake to do that. +</p> + +<p> +At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to Marie’s booth, and the +French boys dispersed to find their girls. He leaned over the card-table and +gave himself up to looking at her. “Do you think you could tell my +fortune?” he murmured. It was the first word he had had alone with her +for almost a year. “My luck hasn’t changed any. It’s just the +same.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie had often wondered whether there was anyone else who could look his +thoughts to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met his steady, powerful +eyes, it was impossible not to feel the sweetness of the dream he was dreaming; +it reached her before she could shut it out, and hid itself in her heart. She +began to shuffle her cards furiously. “I’m angry with you, +Emil,” she broke out with petulance. “Why did you give them that +lovely blue stone to sell? You might have known Frank wouldn’t buy it for +me, and I wanted it awfully!” +</p> + +<p> +Emil laughed shortly. “People who want such little things surely ought to +have them,” he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the pocket of his +velvet trousers and brought out a handful of uncut turquoises, as big as +marbles. Leaning over the table he dropped them into her lap. “There, +will those do? Be careful, don’t let any one see them. Now, I suppose you +want me to go away and let you play with them?” +</p> + +<p> +Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue color of the stones. “Oh, +Emil! Is everything down there beautiful like these? How could you ever come +away?” +</p> + +<p> +At that instant Amédée laid hands on the switchboard. There was a shiver and a +giggle, and every one looked toward the red blur that Marie’s candle made +in the dark. Immediately that, too, was gone. Little shrieks and currents of +soft laughter ran up and down the dark hall. Marie started up,—directly +into Emil’s arms. In the same instant she felt his lips. The veil that +had hung uncertainly between them for so long was dissolved. Before she knew +what she was doing, she had committed herself to that kiss that was at once a +boy’s and a man’s, as timid as it was tender; so like Emil and so +unlike any one else in the world. Not until it was over did she realize what it +meant. And Emil, who had so often imagined the shock of this first kiss, was +surprised at its gentleness and naturalness. It was like a sigh which they had +breathed together; almost sorrowful, as if each were afraid of wakening +something in the other. +</p> + +<p> +When the lights came on again, everybody was laughing and shouting, and all the +French girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only Marie, in her little tent +of shawls, was pale and quiet. Under her yellow turban the red coral pendants +swung against white cheeks. Frank was still staring at her, but he seemed to +see nothing. Years ago, he himself had had the power to take the blood from her +cheeks like that. Perhaps he did not remember—perhaps he had never +noticed! Emil was already at the other end of the hall, walking about with the +shoulder-motion he had acquired among the Mexicans, studying the floor with his +intent, deep-set eyes. Marie began to take down and fold her shawls. She did +not glance up again. The young people drifted to the other end of the hall +where the guitar was sounding. In a moment she heard Emil and Raoul +singing:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Across the Rio Grand-e<br/> +There lies a sunny land-e,<br/> +My bright-eyed Mexico!” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra Bergson came up to the card booth. “Let me help you, Marie. You +look tired.” +</p> + +<p> +She placed her hand on Marie’s arm and felt her shiver. Marie stiffened +under that kind, calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed and hurt. +</p> + +<p> +There was about Alexandra something of the impervious calm of the fatalist, +always disconcerting to very young people, who cannot feel that the heart lives +at all unless it is still at the mercy of storms; unless its strings can scream +to the touch of pain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"></a>II</h2> + +<p> +Signa’s wedding supper was over. The guests, and the tiresome little +Norwegian preacher who had performed the marriage ceremony, were saying +good-night. Old Ivar was hitching the horses to the wagon to take the wedding +presents and the bride and groom up to their new home, on Alexandra’s +north quarter. When Ivar drove up to the gate, Emil and Marie Shabata began to +carry out the presents, and Alexandra went into her bedroom to bid Signa +good-bye and to give her a few words of good counsel. She was surprised to find +that the bride had changed her slippers for heavy shoes and was pinning up her +skirts. At that moment Nelse appeared at the gate with the two milk cows that +Alexandra had given Signa for a wedding present. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra began to laugh. “Why, Signa, you and Nelse are to ride home. +I’ll send Ivar over with the cows in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When her husband called her, she pinned +her hat on resolutely. “I ta-ank I better do yust like he say,” she +murmured in confusion. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to the gate and saw the party set off, +old Ivar driving ahead in the wagon and the bride and groom following on foot, +each leading a cow. Emil burst into a laugh before they were out of hearing. +</p> + +<p> +“Those two will get on,” said Alexandra as they turned back to the +house. “They are not going to take any chances. They will feel safer with +those cows in their own stable. Marie, I am going to send for an old woman +next. As soon as I get the girls broken in, I marry them off.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve no patience with Signa, marrying that grumpy fellow!” +Marie declared. “I wanted her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked +for us last winter. I think she liked him, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think she did,” Alexandra assented, “but I suppose +she was too much afraid of Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think of it, +most of my girls have married men they were afraid of. I believe there is a +good deal of the cow in most Swedish girls. You high-strung Bohemian +can’t understand us. We’re a terribly practical people, and I guess +we think a cross man makes a good manager.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to pin up a lock of hair that had +fallen on her neck. Somehow Alexandra had irritated her of late. Everybody +irritated her. She was tired of everybody. “I’m going home alone, +Emil, so you needn’t get your hat,” she said as she wound her scarf +quickly about her head. “Good-night, Alexandra,” she called back in +a strained voice, running down the gravel walk. +</p> + +<p> +Emil followed with long strides until he overtook her. Then she began to walk +slowly. It was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, and the fireflies were +glimmering over the wheat. +</p> + +<p> +“Marie,” said Emil after they had walked for a while, “I +wonder if you know how unhappy I am?” +</p> + +<p> +Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its white scarf, drooped forward a +little. +</p> + +<p> +Emil kicked a clod from the path and went on:— +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder whether you are really shallow-hearted, like you seem? +Sometimes I think one boy does just as well as another for you. It never seems +to make much difference whether it is me or Raoul Marcel or Jan Smirka. Are you +really like that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I am. What do you want me to do? Sit round and cry all day? When +I’ve cried until I can’t cry any more, then—then I must do +something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sorry for me?” he persisted. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m not. If I were big and free like you, I wouldn’t let +anything make me unhappy. As old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, I +wouldn’t go lovering after no woman. I’d take the first train and +go off and have all the fun there is.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tried that, but it didn’t do any good. Everything reminded me. +The nicer the place was, the more I wanted you.” They had come to the +stile and Emil pointed to it persuasively. “Sit down a moment, I want to +ask you something.” Marie sat down on the top step and Emil drew nearer. +“Would you tell me something that’s none of my business if you +thought it would help me out? Well, then, tell me, <i>please</i> tell me, why +you ran away with Frank Shabata!” +</p> + +<p> +Marie drew back. “Because I was in love with him,” she said firmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” he asked incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. I think I was the one who +suggested our running away. From the first it was more my fault than +his.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil turned away his face. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” Marie went on, “I’ve got to remember that. +Frank is just the same now as he was then, only then I would see him as I +wanted him to be. I would have my own way. And now I pay for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t do all the paying.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it. When one makes a mistake, there’s no telling +where it will stop. But you can go away; you can leave all this behind +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not everything. I can’t leave you behind. Will you go away with +me, Marie?” +</p> + +<p> +Marie started up and stepped across the stile. “Emil! How wickedly you +talk! I am not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But what am I going to do +if you keep tormenting me like this!” she added plaintively. +</p> + +<p> +“Marie, I won’t bother you any more if you will tell me just one +thing. Stop a minute and look at me. No, nobody can see us. Everybody’s +asleep. That was only a firefly. Marie, <i>stop</i> and tell me!” +</p> + +<p> +Emil overtook her and catching her by the shoulders shook her gently, as if he +were trying to awaken a sleepwalker. +</p> + +<p> +Marie hid her face on his arm. “Don’t ask me anything more. I +don’t know anything except how miserable I am. And I thought it would be +all right when you came back. Oh, Emil,” she clutched his sleeve and +began to cry, “what am I to do if you don’t go away? I can’t +go, and one of us must. Can’t you see?” +</p> + +<p> +Emil stood looking down at her, holding his shoulders stiff and stiffening the +arm to which she clung. Her white dress looked gray in the darkness. She seemed +like a troubled spirit, like some shadow out of the earth, clinging to him and +entreating him to give her peace. Behind her the fireflies were weaving in and +out over the wheat. He put his hand on her bent head. “On my honor, +Marie, if you will say you love me, I will go away.” +</p> + +<p> +She lifted her face to his. “How could I help it? Didn’t you +know?” +</p> + +<p> +Emil was the one who trembled, through all his frame. After he left Marie at +her gate, he wandered about the fields all night, till morning put out the +fireflies and the stars. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"></a>III</h2> + +<p> +One evening, a week after Signa’s wedding, Emil was kneeling before a box +in the sitting-room, packing his books. From time to time he rose and wandered +about the house, picking up stray volumes and bringing them listlessly back to +his box. He was packing without enthusiasm. He was not very sanguine about his +future. Alexandra sat sewing by the table. She had helped him pack his trunk in +the afternoon. As Emil came and went by her chair with his books, he thought to +himself that it had not been so hard to leave his sister since he first went +away to school. He was going directly to Omaha, to read law in the office of a +Swedish lawyer until October, when he would enter the law school at Ann Arbor. +They had planned that Alexandra was to come to Michigan—a long journey +for her—at Christmas time, and spend several weeks with him. +Nevertheless, he felt that this leave-taking would be more final than his +earlier ones had been; that it meant a definite break with his old home and the +beginning of something new—he did not know what. His ideas about the +future would not crystallize; the more he tried to think about it, the vaguer +his conception of it became. But one thing was clear, he told himself; it was +high time that he made good to Alexandra, and that ought to be incentive enough +to begin with. +</p> + +<p> +As he went about gathering up his books he felt as if he were uprooting things. +At last he threw himself down on the old slat lounge where he had slept when he +was little, and lay looking up at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Tired, Emil?” his sister asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazy,” he murmured, turning on his side and looking at her. He +studied Alexandra’s face for a long time in the lamplight. It had never +occurred to him that his sister was a handsome woman until Marie Shabata had +told him so. Indeed, he had never thought of her as being a woman at all, only +a sister. As he studied her bent head, he looked up at the picture of John +Bergson above the lamp. “No,” he thought to himself, “she +didn’t get it there. I suppose I am more like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alexandra,” he said suddenly, “that old walnut secretary you +use for a desk was father’s, wasn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra went on stitching. “Yes. It was one of the first things he +bought for the old log house. It was a great extravagance in those days. But he +wrote a great many letters back to the old country. He had many friends there, +and they wrote to him up to the time he died. No one ever blamed him for +grandfather’s disgrace. I can see him now, sitting there on Sundays, in +his white shirt, writing pages and pages, so carefully. He wrote a fine, +regular hand, almost like engraving. Yours is something like his, when you take +pains.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grandfather was really crooked, was he?” +</p> + +<p> +“He married an unscrupulous woman, and then—then I’m afraid +he was really crooked. When we first came here father used to have dreams about +making a great fortune and going back to Sweden to pay back to the poor sailors +the money grandfather had lost.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil stirred on the lounge. “I say, that would have been worth while, +wouldn’t it? Father wasn’t a bit like Lou or Oscar, was he? I +can’t remember much about him before he got sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all!” Alexandra dropped her sewing on her knee. +“He had better opportunities; not to make money, but to make something of +himself. He was a quiet man, but he was very intelligent. You would have been +proud of him, Emil.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra felt that he would like to know there had been a man of his kin whom +he could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed of Lou and Oscar, because they +were bigoted and self-satisfied. He never said much about them, but she could +feel his disgust. His brothers had shown their disapproval of him ever since he +first went away to school. The only thing that would have satisfied them would +have been his failure at the University. As it was, they resented every change +in his speech, in his dress, in his point of view; though the latter they had +to conjecture, for Emil avoided talking to them about any but family matters. +All his interests they treated as affectations. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra took up her sewing again. “I can remember father when he was +quite a young man. He belonged to some kind of a musical society, a male +chorus, in Stockholm. I can remember going with mother to hear them sing. There +must have been a hundred of them, and they all wore long black coats and white +neckties. I was used to seeing father in a blue coat, a sort of jacket, and +when I recognized him on the platform, I was very proud. Do you remember that +Swedish song he taught you, about the ship boy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. They like anything +different.” Emil paused. “Father had a hard fight here, +didn’t he?” he added thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he had hope. He believed in the +land.” +</p> + +<p> +“And in you, I guess,” Emil said to himself. There was another +period of silence; that warm, friendly silence, full of perfect understanding, +in which Emil and Alexandra had spent many of their happiest half-hours. +</p> + +<p> +At last Emil said abruptly, “Lou and Oscar would be better off if they +were poor, wouldn’t they?” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra smiled. “Maybe. But their children wouldn’t. I have great +hopes of Milly.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil shivered. “I don’t know. Seems to me it gets worse as it goes +on. The worst of the Swedes is that they’re never willing to find out how +much they don’t know. It was like that at the University. Always so +pleased with themselves! There’s no getting behind that conceited Swedish +grin. The Bohemians and Germans were so different.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Emil, don’t go back on your own people. Father wasn’t +conceited, Uncle Otto wasn’t. Even Lou and Oscar weren’t when they +were boys.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dispute the point. He turned on his +back and lay still for a long time, his hands locked under his head, looking up +at the ceiling. Alexandra knew that he was thinking of many things. She felt no +anxiety about Emil. She had always believed in him, as she had believed in the +land. He had been more like himself since he got back from Mexico; seemed glad +to be at home, and talked to her as he used to do. She had no doubt that his +wandering fit was over, and that he would soon be settled in life. +</p> + +<p> +“Alexandra,” said Emil suddenly, “do you remember the wild +duck we saw down on the river that time?” +</p> + +<p> +His sister looked up. “I often think of her. It always seems to me +she’s there still, just like we saw her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know. It’s queer what things one remembers and what things one +forgets.” Emil yawned and sat up. “Well, it’s time to turn +in.” He rose, and going over to Alexandra stooped down and kissed her +lightly on the cheek. “Good-night, sister. I think you did pretty well by +us.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. Alexandra sat finishing his new +nightshirt, that must go in the top tray of his trunk. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"></a>IV</h2> + +<p> +The next morning Angélique, Amédée’s wife, was in the kitchen baking +pies, assisted by old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board and the stove +stood the old cradle that had been Amédée’s, and in it was his black-eyed +son. As Angélique, flushed and excited, with flour on her hands, stopped to +smile at the baby, Emil Bergson rode up to the kitchen door on his mare and +dismounted. +</p> + +<p> +“’Médée is out in the field, Emil,” Angélique called as she +ran across the kitchen to the oven. “He begins to cut his wheat to-day; +the first wheat ready to cut anywhere about here. He bought a new header, you +know, because all the wheat’s so short this year. I hope he can rent it +to the neighbors, it cost so much. He and his cousins bought a steam thresher +on shares. You ought to go out and see that header work. I watched it an hour +this morning, busy as I am with all the men to feed. He has a lot of hands, but +he’s the only one that knows how to drive the header or how to run the +engine, so he has to be everywhere at once. He’s sick, too, and ought to +be in his bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil bent over Hector Baptiste, trying to make him blink his round, bead-like +black eyes. “Sick? What’s the matter with your daddy, kid? Been +making him walk the floor with you?” +</p> + +<p> +Angélique sniffed. “Not much! We don’t have that kind of babies. It +was his father that kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be getting up and +making mustard plasters to put on his stomach. He had an awful colic. He said +he felt better this morning, but I don’t think he ought to be out in the +field, overheating himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Angélique did not speak with much anxiety, not because she was indifferent, but +because she felt so secure in their good fortune. Only good things could happen +to a rich, energetic, handsome young man like Amédée, with a new baby in the +cradle and a new header in the field. +</p> + +<p> +Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste’s head. “I say, Angélique, +one of ’Médée’s grandmothers, ’way back, must have been a +squaw. This kid looks exactly like the Indian babies.” +</p> + +<p> +Angélique made a face at him, but old Mrs. Chevalier had been touched on a sore +point, and she let out such a stream of fiery <i>patois</i> that Emil fled from +the kitchen and mounted his mare. +</p> + +<p> +Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, Emil rode across the field to the +clearing where the thresher stood, driven by a stationary engine and fed from +the header boxes. As Amédée was not on the engine, Emil rode on to the +wheatfield, where he recognized, on the header, the slight, wiry figure of his +friend, coatless, his white shirt puffed out by the wind, his straw hat stuck +jauntily on the side of his head. The six big work-horses that drew, or rather +pushed, the header, went abreast at a rapid walk, and as they were still green +at the work they required a good deal of management on Amédée’s part; +especially when they turned the corners, where they divided, three and three, +and then swung round into line again with a movement that looked as complicated +as a wheel of artillery. Emil felt a new thrill of admiration for his friend, +and with it the old pang of envy at the way in which Amédée could do with his +might what his hand found to do, and feel that, whatever it was, it was the +most important thing in the world. “I’ll have to bring Alexandra up +to see this thing work,” Emil thought; “it’s splendid!” +</p> + +<p> +When he saw Emil, Amédée waved to him and called to one of his twenty cousins +to take the reins. Stepping off the header without stopping it, he ran up to +Emil who had dismounted. “Come along,” he called. “I have to +go over to the engine for a minute. I gotta green man running it, and I gotta +to keep an eye on him.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed and more excited than even the +cares of managing a big farm at a critical time warranted. As they passed +behind a last year’s stack, Amédée clutched at his right side and sank +down for a moment on the straw. +</p> + +<p> +“Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. Something’s the matter with +my insides, for sure.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil felt his fiery cheek. “You ought to go straight to bed, +’Médée, and telephone for the doctor; that’s what you ought to +do.” +</p> + +<p> +Amédée staggered up with a gesture of despair. “How can I? I got no time +to be sick. Three thousand dollars’ worth of new machinery to manage, and +the wheat so ripe it will begin to shatter next week. My wheat’s short, +but it’s gotta grand full berries. What’s he slowing down for? We +haven’t got header boxes enough to feed the thresher, I guess.” +</p> + +<p> +Amédée started hot-foot across the stubble, leaning a little to the right as he +ran, and waved to the engineer not to stop the engine. +</p> + +<p> +Emil saw that this was no time to talk about his own affairs. He mounted his +mare and rode on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends there good-bye. He went +first to see Raoul Marcel, and found him innocently practising the +“Gloria” for the big confirmation service on Sunday while he +polished the mirrors of his father’s saloon. +</p> + +<p> +As Emil rode homewards at three o’clock in the afternoon, he saw Amédée +staggering out of the wheatfield, supported by two of his cousins. Emil stopped +and helped them put the boy to bed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"></a>V</h2> + +<p> +When Frank Shabata came in from work at five o’clock that evening, old +Moses Marcel, Raoul’s father, telephoned him that Amédée had had a +seizure in the wheatfield, and that Doctor Paradis was going to operate on him +as soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. Frank dropped a word of this +at the table, bolted his supper, and rode off to Sainte-Agnes, where there +would be sympathetic discussion of Amédée’s case at Marcel’s +saloon. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned Alexandra. It was a comfort to hear +her friend’s voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there was to be known about +Amédée. Emil had been there when they carried him out of the field, and had +stayed with him until the doctors operated for appendicitis at five +o’clock. They were afraid it was too late to do much good; it should have +been done three days ago. Amédée was in a very bad way. Emil had just come +home, worn out and sick himself. She had given him some brandy and put him to +bed. +</p> + +<p> +Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amédée’s illness had taken on a new +meaning to her, now that she knew Emil had been with him. And it might so +easily have been the other way—Emil who was ill and Amédée who was sad! +Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. She had seldom felt so utterly +lonely. If Emil was asleep, there was not even a chance of his coming; and she +could not go to Alexandra for sympathy. She meant to tell Alexandra everything, +as soon as Emil went away. Then whatever was left between them would be honest. +</p> + +<p> +But she could not stay in the house this evening. Where should she go? She +walked slowly down through the orchard, where the evening air was heavy with +the smell of wild cotton. The fresh, salty scent of the wild roses had given +way before this more powerful perfume of midsummer. Wherever those +ashes-of-rose balls hung on their milky stalks, the air about them was +saturated with their breath. The sky was still red in the west and the evening +star hung directly over the Bergsons’ wind-mill. Marie crossed the fence +at the wheatfield corner, and walked slowly along the path that led to +Alexandra’s. She could not help feeling hurt that Emil had not come to +tell her about Amédée. It seemed to her most unnatural that he should not have +come. If she were in trouble, certainly he was the one person in the world she +would want to see. Perhaps he wished her to understand that for her he was as +good as gone already. +</p> + +<p> +Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the path, like a white night-moth out +of the fields. The years seemed to stretch before her like the land; spring, +summer, autumn, winter, spring; always the same patient fields, the patient +little trees, the patient lives; always the same yearning, the same pulling at +the chain—until the instinct to live had torn itself and bled and +weakened for the last time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might +cautiously be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted toward the remote, +inaccessible evening star. +</p> + +<p> +When she reached the stile she sat down and waited. How terrible it was to love +people when you could not really share their lives! +</p> + +<p> +Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was already gone. They couldn’t +meet any more. There was nothing for them to say. They had spent the last penny +of their small change; there was nothing left but gold. The day of love-tokens +was past. They had now only their hearts to give each other. And Emil being +gone, what was her life to be like? In some ways, it would be easier. She would +not, at least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were once away and settled at +work, she would not have the feeling that she was spoiling his life. With the +memory he left her, she could be as rash as she chose. Nobody could be the +worse for it but herself; and that, surely, did not matter. Her own case was +clear. When a girl had loved one man, and then loved another while that man was +still alive, everybody knew what to think of her. What happened to her was of +little consequence, so long as she did not drag other people down with her. +Emil once away, she could let everything else go and live a new life of perfect +love. +</p> + +<p> +Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, after all, thought he might come. +And how glad she ought to be, she told herself, that he was asleep. She left +the path and went across the pasture. The moon was almost full. An owl was +hooting somewhere in the fields. She had scarcely thought about where she was +going when the pond glittered before her, where Emil had shot the ducks. She +stopped and looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty way out of life, if one +chose to take it. But she did not want to die. She wanted to live and +dream—a hundred years, forever! As long as this sweetness welled up in +her heart, as long as her breast could hold this treasure of pain! She felt as +the pond must feel when it held the moon like that; when it encircled and +swelled with that image of gold. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +In the morning, when Emil came down-stairs, Alexandra met him in the +sitting-room and put her hands on his shoulders. “Emil, I went to your +room as soon as it was light, but you were sleeping so sound I hated to wake +you. There was nothing you could do, so I let you sleep. They telephoned from +Sainte-Agnes that Amédée died at three o’clock this morning.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"></a>VI</h2> + +<p> +The Church has always held that life is for the living. On Saturday, while half +the village of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Amédée and preparing the funeral +black for his burial on Monday, the other half was busy with white dresses and +white veils for the great confirmation service to-morrow, when the bishop was +to confirm a class of one hundred boys and girls. Father Duchesne divided his +time between the living and the dead. All day Saturday the church was a scene +of bustling activity, a little hushed by the thought of Amédée. The choir were +busy rehearsing a mass of Rossini, which they had studied and practised for +this occasion. The women were trimming the altar, the boys and girls were +bringing flowers. +</p> + +<p> +On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive overland to Sainte-Agnes from +Hanover, and Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place of one of +Amédée’s cousins in the cavalcade of forty French boys who were to ride +across country to meet the bishop’s carriage. At six o’clock on +Sunday morning the boys met at the church. As they stood holding their horses +by the bridle, they talked in low tones of their dead comrade. They kept +repeating that Amédée had always been a good boy, glancing toward the red brick +church which had played so large a part in Amédée’s life, had been the +scene of his most serious moments and of his happiest hours. He had played and +wrestled and sung and courted under its shadow. Only three weeks ago he had +proudly carried his baby there to be christened. They could not doubt that that +invisible arm was still about Amédée; that through the church on earth he had +passed to the church triumphant, the goal of the hopes and faith of so many +hundred years. +</p> + +<p> +When the word was given to mount, the young men rode at a walk out of the +village; but once out among the wheatfields in the morning sun, their horses +and their own youth got the better of them. A wave of zeal and fiery enthusiasm +swept over them. They longed for a Jerusalem to deliver. The thud of their +galloping hoofs interrupted many a country breakfast and brought many a woman +and child to the door of the farmhouses as they passed. Five miles east of +Sainte-Agnes they met the bishop in his open carriage, attended by two priests. +Like one man the boys swung off their hats in a broad salute, and bowed their +heads as the handsome old man lifted his two fingers in the episcopal blessing. +The horsemen closed about the carriage like a guard, and whenever a restless +horse broke from control and shot down the road ahead of the body, the bishop +laughed and rubbed his plump hands together. “What fine boys!” he +said to his priests. “The Church still has her cavalry.” +</p> + +<p> +As the troop swept past the graveyard half a mile east of the town,—the +first frame church of the parish had stood there,—old Pierre Seguin was +already out with his pick and spade, digging Amédée’s grave. He knelt and +uncovered as the bishop passed. The boys with one accord looked away from old +Pierre to the red church on the hill, with the gold cross flaming on its +steeple. +</p> + +<p> +Mass was at eleven. While the church was filling, Emil Bergson waited outside, +watching the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After the bell began to +ring, he saw Frank Shabata ride up on horseback and tie his horse to the +hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. Emil turned and went into the church. +Amédée’s was the only empty pew, and he sat down in it. Some of +Amédée’s cousins were there, dressed in black and weeping. When all the +pews were full, the old men and boys packed the open space at the back of the +church, kneeling on the floor. There was scarcely a family in town that was not +represented in the confirmation class, by a cousin, at least. The new +communicants, with their clear, reverent faces, were beautiful to look upon as +they entered in a body and took the front benches reserved for them. Even +before the Mass began, the air was charged with feeling. The choir had never +sung so well and Raoul Marcel, in the “Gloria,” drew even the +bishop’s eyes to the organ loft. For the offertory he sang Gounod’s +“Ave Maria,”—always spoken of in Sainte-Agnes as “the +Ave Maria.” +</p> + +<p> +Emil began to torture himself with questions about Marie. Was she ill? Had she +quarreled with her husband? Was she too unhappy to find comfort even here? Had +she, perhaps, thought that he would come to her? Was she waiting for him? +Overtaxed by excitement and sorrow as he was, the rapture of the service took +hold upon his body and mind. As he listened to Raoul, he seemed to emerge from +the conflicting emotions which had been whirling him about and sucking him +under. He felt as if a clear light broke upon his mind, and with it a +conviction that good was, after all, stronger than evil, and that good was +possible to men. He seemed to discover that there was a kind of rapture in +which he could love forever without faltering and without sin. He looked across +the heads of the people at Frank Shabata with calmness. That rapture was for +those who could feel it; for people who could not, it was non-existent. He +coveted nothing that was Frank Shabata’s. The spirit he had met in music +was his own. Frank Shabata had never found it; would never find it if he lived +beside it a thousand years; would have destroyed it if he had found it, as +Herod slew the innocents, as Rome slew the martyrs. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +San—cta Mari-i-i-a, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +wailed Raoul from the organ loft; +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +O—ra pro no-o-bis! +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +And it did not occur to Emil that any one had ever reasoned thus before, that +music had ever before given a man this equivocal revelation. +</p> + +<p> +The confirmation service followed the Mass. When it was over, the congregation +thronged about the newly confirmed. The girls, and even the boys, were kissed +and embraced and wept over. All the aunts and grandmothers wept with joy. The +housewives had much ado to tear themselves away from the general rejoicing and +hurry back to their kitchens. The country parishioners were staying in town for +dinner, and nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes entertained visitors that day. +Father Duchesne, the bishop, and the visiting priests dined with Fabien +Sauvage, the banker. Emil and Frank Shabata were both guests of old Moise +Marcel. After dinner Frank and old Moise retired to the rear room of the saloon +to play California Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil went over to the +banker’s with Raoul, who had been asked to sing for the bishop. +</p> + +<p> +At three o’clock, Emil felt that he could stand it no longer. He slipped +out under cover of “The Holy City,” followed by Malvina’s +wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. He was at that height of +excitement from which everything is foreshortened, from which life seems short +and simple, death very near, and the soul seems to soar like an eagle. As he +rode past the graveyard he looked at the brown hole in the earth where Amédée +was to lie, and felt no horror. That, too, was beautiful, that simple doorway +into forgetfulness. The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for that brown +earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old and the poor and the +maimed who shrink from that brown hole; its wooers are found among the young, +the passionate, the gallant-hearted. It was not until he had passed the +graveyard that Emil realized where he was going. It was the hour for saying +good-bye. It might be the last time that he would see her alone, and today he +could leave her without rancor, without bitterness. +</p> + +<p> +Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of the smell of +the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an oven. The breath of the +wheat and the sweet clover passed him like pleasant things in a dream. He could +feel nothing but the sense of diminishing distance. It seemed to him that his +mare was flying, or running on wheels, like a railway train. The sunlight, +flashing on the window-glass of the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. He +was like an arrow shot from the bow. His life poured itself out along the road +before him as he rode to the Shabata farm. +</p> + +<p> +When Emil alighted at the Shabatas’ gate, his horse was in a lather. He +tied her in the stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. She might be at +Mrs. Hiller’s or with Alexandra. But anything that reminded him of her +would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry tree... When he reached the orchard +the sun was hanging low over the wheatfield. Long fingers of light reached +through the apple branches as through a net; the orchard was riddled and shot +with gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely interferences that +reflected and refracted light. Emil went softly down between the cherry trees +toward the wheatfield. When he came to the corner, he stopped short and put his +hand over his mouth. Marie was lying on her side under the white mulberry tree, +her face half hidden in the grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply +where they had happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new life of perfect +love, and it had left her like this. Her breast rose and fell faintly, as if +she were asleep. Emil threw himself down beside her and took her in his arms. +The blood came back to her cheeks, her amber eyes opened slowly, and in them +Emil saw his own face and the orchard and the sun. “I was dreaming +this,” she whispered, hiding her face against him, “don’t +take my dream away!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"></a>VII</h2> + +<p> +When Frank Shabata got home that night, he found Emil’s mare in his +stable. Such an impertinence amazed him. Like everybody else, Frank had had an +exciting day. Since noon he had been drinking too much, and he was in a bad +temper. He talked bitterly to himself while he put his own horse away, and as +he went up the path and saw that the house was dark he felt an added sense of +injury. He approached quietly and listened on the doorstep. Hearing nothing, he +opened the kitchen door and went softly from one room to another. Then he went +through the house again, upstairs and down, with no better result. He sat down +on the bottom step of the box stairway and tried to get his wits together. In +that unnatural quiet there was no sound but his own heavy breathing. Suddenly +an owl began to hoot out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. An idea flashed +into his mind, and his sense of injury and outrage grew. He went into his +bedroom and took his murderous 405 Winchester from the closet. +</p> + +<p> +When Frank took up his gun and walked out of the house, he had not the faintest +purpose of doing anything with it. He did not believe that he had any real +grievance. But it gratified him to feel like a desperate man. He had got into +the habit of seeing himself always in desperate straits. His unhappy +temperament was like a cage; he could never get out of it; and he felt that +other people, his wife in particular, must have put him there. It had never +more than dimly occurred to Frank that he made his own unhappiness. Though he +took up his gun with dark projects in his mind, he would have been paralyzed +with fright had he known that there was the slightest probability of his ever +carrying any of them out. +</p> + +<p> +Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, stopped and stood for a moment lost +in thought. He retraced his steps and looked through the barn and the hayloft. +Then he went out to the road, where he took the foot-path along the outside of +the orchard hedge. The hedge was twice as tall as Frank himself, and so dense +that one could see through it only by peering closely between the leaves. He +could see the empty path a long way in the moonlight. His mind traveled ahead +to the stile, which he always thought of as haunted by Emil Bergson. But why +had he left his horse? +</p> + +<p> +At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard hedge ended and the path led across +the pasture to the Bergsons’, Frank stopped. In the warm, breathless +night air he heard a murmuring sound, perfectly inarticulate, as low as the +sound of water coming from a spring, where there is no fall, and where there +are no stones to fret it. Frank strained his ears. It ceased. He held his +breath and began to tremble. Resting the butt of his gun on the ground, he +parted the mulberry leaves softly with his fingers and peered through the hedge +at the dark figures on the grass, in the shadow of the mulberry tree. It seemed +to him that they must feel his eyes, that they must hear him breathing. But +they did not. Frank, who had always wanted to see things blacker than they +were, for once wanted to believe less than he saw. The woman lying in the +shadow might so easily be one of the Bergsons’ farm-girls.... Again the +murmur, like water welling out of the ground. This time he heard it more +distinctly, and his blood was quicker than his brain. He began to act, just as +a man who falls into the fire begins to act. The gun sprang to his shoulder, he +sighted mechanically and fired three times without stopping, stopped without +knowing why. Either he shut his eyes or he had vertigo. He did not see anything +while he was firing. He thought he heard a cry simultaneous with the second +report, but he was not sure. He peered again through the hedge, at the two dark +figures under the tree. They had fallen a little apart from each other, and +were perfectly still—No, not quite; in a white patch of light, where the +moon shone through the branches, a man’s hand was plucking spasmodically +at the grass. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the woman stirred and uttered a cry, then another, and another. She +was living! She was dragging herself toward the hedge! Frank dropped his gun +and ran back along the path, shaking, stumbling, gasping. He had never imagined +such horror. The cries followed him. They grew fainter and thicker, as if she +were choking. He dropped on his knees beside the hedge and crouched like a +rabbit, listening; fainter, fainter; a sound like a whine; again—a +moan—another—silence. Frank scrambled to his feet and ran on, +groaning and praying. From habit he went toward the house, where he was used to +being soothed when he had worked himself into a frenzy, but at the sight of the +black, open door, he started back. He knew that he had murdered somebody, that +a woman was bleeding and moaning in the orchard, but he had not realized before +that it was his wife. The gate stared him in the face. He threw his hands over +his head. Which way to turn? He lifted his tormented face and looked at the +sky. “Holy Mother of God, not to suffer! She was a good girl—not to +suffer!” +</p> + +<p> +Frank had been wont to see himself in dramatic situations; but now, when he +stood by the windmill, in the bright space between the barn and the house, +facing his own black doorway, he did not see himself at all. He stood like the +hare when the dogs are approaching from all sides. And he ran like a hare, back +and forth about that moonlit space, before he could make up his mind to go into +the dark stable for a horse. The thought of going into a doorway was terrible +to him. He caught Emil’s horse by the bit and led it out. He could not +have buckled a bridle on his own. After two or three attempts, he lifted +himself into the saddle and started for Hanover. If he could catch the one +o’clock train, he had money enough to get as far as Omaha. +</p> + +<p> +While he was thinking dully of this in some less sensitized part of his brain, +his acuter faculties were going over and over the cries he had heard in the +orchard. Terror was the only thing that kept him from going back to her, terror +that she might still be she, that she might still be suffering. A woman, +mutilated and bleeding in his orchard—it was because it was a woman that +he was so afraid. It was inconceivable that he should have hurt a woman. He +would rather be eaten by wild beasts than see her move on the ground as she had +moved in the orchard. Why had she been so careless? She knew he was like a +crazy man when he was angry. She had more than once taken that gun away from +him and held it, when he was angry with other people. Once it had gone off +while they were struggling over it. She was never afraid. But, when she knew +him, why hadn’t she been more careful? Didn’t she have all summer +before her to love Emil Bergson in, without taking such chances? Probably she +had met the Smirka boy, too, down there in the orchard. He didn’t care. +She could have met all the men on the Divide there, and welcome, if only she +hadn’t brought this horror on him. +</p> + +<p> +There was a wrench in Frank’s mind. He did not honestly believe that of +her. He knew that he was doing her wrong. He stopped his horse to admit this to +himself the more directly, to think it out the more clearly. He knew that he +was to blame. For three years he had been trying to break her spirit. She had a +way of making the best of things that seemed to him a sentimental affectation. +He wanted his wife to resent that he was wasting his best years among these +stupid and unappreciative people; but she had seemed to find the people quite +good enough. If he ever got rich he meant to buy her pretty clothes and take +her to California in a Pullman car, and treat her like a lady; but in the mean +time he wanted her to feel that life was as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. +He had tried to make her life ugly. He had refused to share any of the little +pleasures she was so plucky about making for herself. She could be gay about +the least thing in the world; but she must be gay! When she first came to him, +her faith in him, her adoration—Frank struck the mare with his fist. Why +had Marie made him do this thing; why had she brought this upon him? He was +overwhelmed by sickening misfortune. All at once he heard her cries +again—he had forgotten for a moment. “Maria,” he sobbed +aloud, “Maria!” +</p> + +<p> +When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the motion of his horse brought on a violent +attack of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on again, but he could think of +nothing except his physical weakness and his desire to be comforted by his +wife. He wanted to get into his own bed. Had his wife been at home, he would +have turned and gone back to her meekly enough. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"></a>VIII</h2> + +<p> +When old Ivar climbed down from his loft at four o’clock the next +morning, he came upon Emil’s mare, jaded and lather-stained, her bridle +broken, chewing the scattered tufts of hay outside the stable door. The old man +was thrown into a fright at once. He put the mare in her stall, threw her a +measure of oats, and then set out as fast as his bow-legs could carry him on +the path to the nearest neighbor. +</p> + +<p> +“Something is wrong with that boy. Some misfortune has come upon us. He +would never have used her so, in his right senses. It is not his way to abuse +his mare,” the old man kept muttering, as he scuttled through the short, +wet pasture grass on his bare feet. +</p> + +<p> +While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the first long rays of the sun were +reaching down between the orchard boughs to those two dew-drenched figures. The +story of what had happened was written plainly on the orchard grass, and on the +white mulberries that had fallen in the night and were covered with dark stain. +For Emil the chapter had been short. He was shot in the heart, and had rolled +over on his back and died. His face was turned up to the sky and his brows were +drawn in a frown, as if he had realized that something had befallen him. But +for Marie Shabata it had not been so easy. One ball had torn through her right +lung, another had shattered the carotid artery. She must have started up and +gone toward the hedge, leaving a trail of blood. There she had fallen and bled. +From that spot there was another trail, heavier than the first, where she must +have dragged herself back to Emil’s body. Once there, she seemed not to +have struggled any more. She had lifted her head to her lover’s breast, +taken his hand in both her own, and bled quietly to death. She was lying on her +right side in an easy and natural position, her cheek on Emil’s shoulder. +On her face there was a look of ineffable content. Her lips were parted a +little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a day-dream or a light slumber. +After she lay down there, she seemed not to have moved an eyelash. The hand she +held was covered with dark stains, where she had kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +But the stained, slippery grass, the darkened mulberries, told only half the +story. Above Marie and Emil, two white butterflies from Frank’s +alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out among the interlacing shadows; diving +and soaring, now close together, now far apart; and in the long grass by the +fence the last wild roses of the year opened their pink hearts to die. +</p> + +<p> +When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he saw Shabata’s rifle lying in +the way. He turned and peered through the branches, falling upon his knees as +if his legs had been mowed from under him. “Merciful God!” he +groaned. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Alexandra, too, had risen early that morning, because of her anxiety about +Emil. She was in Emil’s room upstairs when, from the window, she saw Ivar +coming along the path that led from the Shabatas’. He was running like a +spent man, tottering and lurching from side to side. Ivar never drank, and +Alexandra thought at once that one of his spells had come upon him, and that he +must be in a very bad way indeed. She ran downstairs and hurried out to meet +him, to hide his infirmity from the eyes of her household. The old man fell in +the road at her feet and caught her hand, over which he bowed his shaggy head. +“Mistress, mistress,” he sobbed, “it has fallen! Sin and +death for the young ones! God have mercy upon us!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_PART5" id="link2H_PART5"></a>PART V.<br/> +Alexandra</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"></a>I</h2> + +<p> +Ivar was sitting at a cobbler’s bench in the barn, mending harness by the +light of a lantern and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. It was only five +o’clock of a mid-October day, but a storm had come up in the afternoon, +bringing black clouds, a cold wind and torrents of rain. The old man wore his +buffalo-skin coat, and occasionally stopped to warm his fingers at the lantern. +Suddenly a woman burst into the shed, as if she had been blown in, accompanied +by a shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, wrapped in a man’s overcoat and +wearing a pair of boots over her shoes. In time of trouble Signa had come back +to stay with her mistress, for she was the only one of the maids from whom +Alexandra would accept much personal service. It was three months now since the +news of the terrible thing that had happened in Frank Shabata’s orchard +had first run like a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were staying on with +Alexandra until winter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ivar,” Signa exclaimed as she wiped the rain from her face, +“do you know where she is?” +</p> + +<p> +The old man put down his cobbler’s knife. “Who, the +mistress?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. She went away about three o’clock. I happened to look out of +the window and saw her going across the fields in her thin dress and sun-hat. +And now this storm has come on. I thought she was going to Mrs. Hiller’s, +and I telephoned as soon as the thunder stopped, but she had not been there. +I’m afraid she is out somewhere and will get her death of cold.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. “<i>Ja</i>, <i>ja</i>, we +will see. I will hitch the boy’s mare to the cart and go.” +</p> + +<p> +Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses’ stable. She was +shivering with cold and excitement. “Where do you suppose she can be, +Ivar?” +</p> + +<p> +The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg. “How +should I know?” +</p> + +<p> +“But you think she is at the graveyard, don’t you?” Signa +persisted. “So do I. Oh, I wish she would be more like herself! I +can’t believe it’s Alexandra Bergson come to this, with no head +about anything. I have to tell her when to eat and when to go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Patience, patience, sister,” muttered Ivar as he settled the bit +in the horse’s mouth. “When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the +eyes of the spirit are open. She will have a message from those who are gone, +and that will bring her peace. Until then we must bear with her. You and I are +the only ones who have weight with her. She trusts us.” +</p> + +<p> +“How awful it’s been these last three months.” Signa held the +lantern so that he could see to buckle the straps. “It don’t seem +right that we must all be so miserable. Why do we all have to be punished? +Seems to me like good times would never come again.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but said nothing. He stooped and took a +sandburr from his toe. +</p> + +<p> +“Ivar,” Signa asked suddenly, “will you tell me why you go +barefoot? All the time I lived here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it for +a penance, or what?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the body. From my youth up I +have had a strong, rebellious body, and have been subject to every kind of +temptation. Even in age my temptations are prolonged. It was necessary to make +some allowances; and the feet, as I understand it, are free members. There is +no divine prohibition for them in the Ten Commandments. The hands, the tongue, +the eyes, the heart, all the bodily desires we are commanded to subdue; but the +feet are free members. I indulge them without harm to any one, even to +trampling in filth when my desires are low. They are quickly cleaned +again.” +</p> + +<p> +Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful as she followed Ivar out to the +wagon-shed and held the shafts up for him, while he backed in the mare and +buckled the hold-backs. “You have been a good friend to the mistress, +Ivar,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“And you, God be with you,” replied Ivar as he clambered into the +cart and put the lantern under the oilcloth lap-cover. “Now for a +ducking, my girl,” he said to the mare, gathering up the reins. +</p> + +<p> +As they emerged from the shed, a stream of water, running off the thatch, +struck the mare on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly, then struck out +bravely on the soft ground, slipping back again and again as she climbed the +hill to the main road. Between the rain and the darkness Ivar could see very +little, so he let Emil’s mare have the rein, keeping her head in the +right direction. When the ground was level, he turned her out of the dirt road +upon the sod, where she was able to trot without slipping. +</p> + +<p> +Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three miles from the house, the storm had +spent itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, dripping rain. The sky and +the land were a dark smoke color, and seemed to be coming together, like two +waves. When Ivar stopped at the gate and swung out his lantern, a white figure +rose from beside John Bergson’s white stone. +</p> + +<p> +The old man sprang to the ground and shuffled toward the gate calling, +“Mistress, mistress!” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her hand on his shoulder. +“<i>Tyst!</i> Ivar. There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m +sorry if I’ve scared you all. I didn’t notice the storm till it was +on me, and I couldn’t walk against it. I’m glad you’ve come. +I am so tired I didn’t know how I’d ever get home.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in her face. “<i>Gud!</i> You +are enough to frighten us, mistress. You look like a drowned woman. How could +you do such a thing!” +</p> + +<p> +Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the gate and helped her into the cart, +wrapping her in the dry blankets on which he had been sitting. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. “Not much use in that, Ivar. You will +only shut the wet in. I don’t feel so cold now; but I’m heavy and +numb. I’m glad you came.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a sliding trot. Her feet sent back a +continual spatter of mud. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra spoke to the old man as they jogged along through the sullen gray +twilight of the storm. “Ivar, I think it has done me good to get cold +clear through like this, once. I don’t believe I shall suffer so much any +more. When you get so near the dead, they seem more real than the living. +Worldly thoughts leave one. Ever since Emil died, I’ve suffered so when +it rained. Now that I’ve been out in it with him, I shan’t dread +it. After you once get cold clear through, the feeling of the rain on you is +sweet. It seems to bring back feelings you had when you were a baby. It carries +you back into the dark, before you were born; you can’t see things, but +they come to you, somehow, and you know them and aren’t afraid of them. +Maybe it’s like that with the dead. If they feel anything at all, +it’s the old things, before they were born, that comfort people like the +feeling of their own bed does when they are little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mistress,” said Ivar reproachfully, “those are bad thoughts. +The dead are in Paradise.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he hung his head, for he did not believe that Emil was in Paradise. +</p> + +<p> +When they got home, Signa had a fire burning in the sitting-room stove. She +undressed Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while Ivar made ginger tea in +the kitchen. When Alexandra was in bed, wrapped in hot blankets, Ivar came in +with his tea and saw that she drank it. Signa asked permission to sleep on the +slat lounge outside her door. Alexandra endured their attentions patiently, but +she was glad when they put out the lamp and left her. As she lay alone in the +dark, it occurred to her for the first time that perhaps she was actually tired +of life. All the physical operations of life seemed difficult and painful. She +longed to be free from her own body, which ached and was so heavy. And longing +itself was heavy: she yearned to be free of that. +</p> + +<p> +As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, more vividly than for many +years, the old illusion of her girlhood, of being lifted and carried lightly by +some one very strong. He was with her a long while this time, and carried her +very far, and in his arms she felt free from pain. When he laid her down on her +bed again, she opened her eyes, and, for the first time in her life, she saw +him, saw him clearly, though the room was dark, and his face was covered. He +was standing in the doorway of her room. His white cloak was thrown over his +face, and his head was bent a little forward. His shoulders seemed as strong as +the foundations of the world. His right arm, bared from the elbow, was dark and +gleaming, like bronze, and she knew at once that it was the arm of the +mightiest of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it was she had waited, and +where he would carry her. That, she told herself, was very well. Then she went +to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra wakened in the morning with nothing worse than a hard cold and a +stiff shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, and it was during that time +that she formed a resolution to go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. Ever since +she last saw him in the courtroom, Frank’s haggard face and wild eyes had +haunted her. The trial had lasted only three days. Frank had given himself up +to the police in Omaha and pleaded guilty of killing without malice and without +premeditation. The gun was, of course, against him, and the judge had given him +the full sentence,—ten years. He had now been in the State Penitentiary +for a month. +</p> + +<p> +Frank was the only one, Alexandra told herself, for whom anything could be +done. He had been less in the wrong than any of them, and he was paying the +heaviest penalty. She often felt that she herself had been more to blame than +poor Frank. From the time the Shabatas had first moved to the neighboring farm, +she had omitted no opportunity of throwing Marie and Emil together. Because she +knew Frank was surly about doing little things to help his wife, she was always +sending Emil over to spade or plant or carpenter for Marie. She was glad to +have Emil see as much as possible of an intelligent, city-bred girl like their +neighbor; she noticed that it improved his manners. She knew that Emil was fond +of Marie, but it had never occurred to her that Emil’s feeling might be +different from her own. She wondered at herself now, but she had never thought +of danger in that direction. If Marie had been unmarried,—oh, yes! Then +she would have kept her eyes open. But the mere fact that she was +Shabata’s wife, for Alexandra, settled everything. That she was +beautiful, impulsive, barely two years older than Emil, these facts had had no +weight with Alexandra. Emil was a good boy, and only bad boys ran after married +women. +</p> + +<p> +Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize that Marie was, after all, Marie; not +merely a “married woman.” Sometimes, when Alexandra thought of her, +it was with an aching tenderness. The moment she had reached them in the +orchard that morning, everything was clear to her. There was something about +those two lying in the grass, something in the way Marie had settled her cheek +on Emil’s shoulder, that told her everything. She wondered then how they +could have helped loving each other; how she could have helped knowing that +they must. Emil’s cold, frowning face, the girl’s +content—Alexandra had felt awe of them, even in the first shock of her +grief. +</p> + +<p> +The idleness of those days in bed, the relaxation of body which attended them, +enabled Alexandra to think more calmly than she had done since Emil’s +death. She and Frank, she told herself, were left out of that group of friends +who had been overwhelmed by disaster. She must certainly see Frank Shabata. +Even in the courtroom her heart had grieved for him. He was in a strange +country, he had no kinsmen or friends, and in a moment he had ruined his life. +Being what he was, she felt, Frank could not have acted otherwise. She could +understand his behavior more easily than she could understand Marie’s. +Yes, she must go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. +</p> + +<p> +The day after Emil’s funeral, Alexandra had written to Carl Linstrum; a +single page of notepaper, a bare statement of what had happened. She was not a +woman who could write much about such a thing, and about her own feelings she +could never write very freely. She knew that Carl was away from post-offices, +prospecting somewhere in the interior. Before he started he had written her +where he expected to go, but her ideas about Alaska were vague. As the weeks +went by and she heard nothing from him, it seemed to Alexandra that her heart +grew hard against Carl. She began to wonder whether she would not do better to +finish her life alone. What was left of life seemed unimportant. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"></a>II</h2> + +<p> +Late in the afternoon of a brilliant October day, Alexandra Bergson, dressed in +a black suit and traveling-hat, alighted at the Burlington depot in Lincoln. +She drove to the Lindell Hotel, where she had stayed two years ago when she +came up for Emil’s Commencement. In spite of her usual air of sureness +and self-possession, Alexandra felt ill at ease in hotels, and she was glad, +when she went to the clerk’s desk to register, that there were not many +people in the lobby. She had her supper early, wearing her hat and black jacket +down to the dining-room and carrying her handbag. After supper she went out for +a walk. +</p> + +<p> +It was growing dark when she reached the university campus. She did not go into +the grounds, but walked slowly up and down the stone walk outside the long iron +fence, looking through at the young men who were running from one building to +another, at the lights shining from the armory and the library. A squad of +cadets were going through their drill behind the armory, and the commands of +their young officer rang out at regular intervals, so sharp and quick that +Alexandra could not understand them. Two stalwart girls came down the library +steps and out through one of the iron gates. As they passed her, Alexandra was +pleased to hear them speaking Bohemian to each other. Every few moments a boy +would come running down the flagged walk and dash out into the street as if he +were rushing to announce some wonder to the world. Alexandra felt a great +tenderness for them all. She wished one of them would stop and speak to her. +She wished she could ask them whether they had known Emil. +</p> + +<p> +As she lingered by the south gate she actually did encounter one of the boys. +He had on his drill cap and was swinging his books at the end of a long strap. +It was dark by this time; he did not see her and ran against her. He snatched +off his cap and stood bareheaded and panting. “I’m awfully +sorry,” he said in a bright, clear voice, with a rising inflection, as if +he expected her to say something. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it was my fault!” said Alexandra eagerly. “Are you an +old student here, may I ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, ma’am. I’m a Freshie, just off the farm. Cherry County. +Were you hunting somebody?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you. That is—” Alexandra wanted to detain him. +“That is, I would like to find some of my brother’s friends. He +graduated two years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’d have to try the Seniors, wouldn’t you? +Let’s see; I don’t know any of them yet, but there’ll be sure +to be some of them around the library. That red building, right there,” +he pointed. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, I’ll try there,” said Alexandra lingeringly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s all right! Good-night.” The lad clapped his cap +on his head and ran straight down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked after him +wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +She walked back to her hotel unreasonably comforted. “What a nice voice +that boy had, and how polite he was. I know Emil was always like that to +women.” And again, after she had undressed and was standing in her +nightgown, brushing her long, heavy hair by the electric light, she remembered +him and said to herself, “I don’t think I ever heard a nicer voice +than that boy had. I hope he will get on well here. Cherry County; that’s +where the hay is so fine, and the coyotes can scratch down to water.” +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock the next morning Alexandra presented herself at the +warden’s office in the State Penitentiary. The warden was a German, a +ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had formerly been a harness-maker. Alexandra +had a letter to him from the German banker in Hanover. As he glanced at the +letter, Mr. Schwartz put away his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he’s gettin’ along +fine,” said Mr. Schwartz cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he might be quarrelsome and get +himself into more trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I would like to tell +you a little about Frank Shabata, and why I am interested in him.” +</p> + +<p> +The warden listened genially while she told him briefly something of +Frank’s history and character, but he did not seem to find anything +unusual in her account. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, I’ll keep an eye on him. We’ll take care of him all +right,” he said, rising. “You can talk to him here, while I go to +see to things in the kitchen. I’ll have him sent in. He ought to be done +washing out his cell by this time. We have to keep ’em clean, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +The warden paused at the door, speaking back over his shoulder to a pale young +man in convicts’ clothes who was seated at a desk in the corner, writing +in a big ledger. +</p> + +<p> +“Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just step out and give this lady a +chance to talk.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man bowed his head and bent over his ledger again. +</p> + +<p> +When Mr. Schwartz disappeared, Alexandra thrust her black-edged handkerchief +nervously into her handbag. Coming out on the streetcar she had not had the +least dread of meeting Frank. But since she had been here the sounds and smells +in the corridor, the look of the men in convicts’ clothes who passed the +glass door of the warden’s office, affected her unpleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +The warden’s clock ticked, the young convict’s pen scratched busily +in the big book, and his sharp shoulders were shaken every few seconds by a +loose cough which he tried to smother. It was easy to see that he was a sick +man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, but he did not once raise his eyes. He +wore a white shirt under his striped jacket, a high collar, and a necktie, very +carefully tied. His hands were thin and white and well cared for, and he had a +seal ring on his little finger. When he heard steps approaching in the +corridor, he rose, blotted his book, put his pen in the rack, and left the room +without raising his eyes. Through the door he opened a guard came in, bringing +Frank Shabata. +</p> + +<p> +“You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? Here he is. Be on your good +behavior, now. He can set down, lady,” seeing that Alexandra remained +standing. “Push that white button when you’re through with him, and +I’ll come.” +</p> + +<p> +The guard went out and Alexandra and Frank were left alone. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra tried not to see his hideous clothes. She tried to look straight into +his face, which she could scarcely believe was his. It was already bleached to +a chalky gray. His lips were colorless, his fine teeth looked yellowish. He +glanced at Alexandra sullenly, blinked as if he had come from a dark place, and +one eyebrow twitched continually. She felt at once that this interview was a +terrible ordeal to him. His shaved head, showing the conformation of his skull, +gave him a criminal look which he had not had during the trial. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra held out her hand. “Frank,” she said, her eyes filling +suddenly, “I hope you’ll let me be friendly with you. I understand +how you did it. I don’t feel hard toward you. They were more to blame +than you.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from his trousers pocket. He had begun +to cry. He turned away from Alexandra. “I never did mean to do +not’ing to dat woman,” he muttered. “I never mean to do +not’ing to dat boy. I ain’t had not’ing ag’in’ +dat boy. I always like dat boy fine. An’ then I find him—” He +stopped. The feeling went out of his face and eyes. He dropped into a chair and +sat looking stolidly at the floor, his hands hanging loosely between his knees, +the handkerchief lying across his striped leg. He seemed to have stirred up in +his mind a disgust that had paralyzed his faculties. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t come up here to blame you, Frank. I think they were more +to blame than you.” Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. +</p> + +<p> +Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of the office window. “I guess +dat place all go to hell what I work so hard on,” he said with a slow, +bitter smile. “I not care a damn.” He stopped and rubbed the palm +of his hand over the light bristles on his head with annoyance. “I no can +t’ink without my hair,” he complained. “I forget English. We +not talk here, except swear.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to have undergone a change of +personality. There was scarcely anything by which she could recognize her +handsome Bohemian neighbor. He seemed, somehow, not altogether human. She did +not know what to say to him. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not feel hard to me, Frank?” she asked at last. +</p> + +<p> +Frank clenched his fist and broke out in excitement. “I not feel hard at +no woman. I tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit my wife. No, never I +hurt her when she devil me something awful!” He struck his fist down on +the warden’s desk so hard that he afterward stroked it absently. A pale +pink crept over his neck and face. “Two, t’ree years I know dat +woman don’ care no more ’bout me, Alexandra Bergson. I know she +after some other man. I know her, oo-oo! An’ I ain’t never hurt +her. I never would-a done dat, if I ain’t had dat gun along. I don’ +know what in hell make me take dat gun. She always say I ain’t no man to +carry gun. If she been in dat house, where she ought-a been—But das a +foolish talk.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, as he had stopped before. Alexandra +felt that there was something strange in the way he chilled off, as if +something came up in him that extinguished his power of feeling or thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Frank,” she said kindly. “I know you never meant to +hurt Marie.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled slowly with tears. “You +know, I most forgit dat woman’s name. She ain’t got no name for me +no more. I never hate my wife, but dat woman what make me do dat—Honest +to God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I don’ want to kill no boy and +no woman. I not care how many men she take under dat tree. I no care for +not’ing but dat fine boy I kill, Alexandra Bergson. I guess I go crazy +sure ’nough.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane she had found in Frank’s +clothes-closet. She thought of how he had come to this country a gay young +fellow, so attractive that the prettiest Bohemian girl in Omaha had run away +with him. It seemed unreasonable that life should have landed him in such a +place as this. She blamed Marie bitterly. And why, with her happy, affectionate +nature, should she have brought destruction and sorrow to all who had loved +her, even to poor old Joe Tovesky, the uncle who used to carry her about so +proudly when she was a little girl? That was the strangest thing of all. Was +there, then, something wrong in being warm-hearted and impulsive like that? +Alexandra hated to think so. But there was Emil, in the Norwegian graveyard at +home, and here was Frank Shabata. Alexandra rose and took him by the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Frank Shabata, I am never going to stop trying until I get you pardoned. +I’ll never give the Governor any peace. I know I can get you out of this +place.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he gathered confidence from her face. +“Alexandra,” he said earnestly, “if I git out-a here, I not +trouble dis country no more. I go back where I come from; see my mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra tried to withdraw her hand, but Frank held on to it nervously. He put +out his finger and absently touched a button on her black jacket. +“Alexandra,” he said in a low tone, looking steadily at the button, +“you ain’ t’ink I use dat girl awful bad before—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Frank. We won’t talk about that,” Alexandra said, +pressing his hand. “I can’t help Emil now, so I’m going to do +what I can for you. You know I don’t go away from home often, and I came +up here on purpose to tell you this.” +</p> + +<p> +The warden at the glass door looked in inquiringly. Alexandra nodded, and he +came in and touched the white button on his desk. The guard appeared, and with +a sinking heart Alexandra saw Frank led away down the corridor. After a few +words with Mr. Schwartz, she left the prison and made her way to the +street-car. She had refused with horror the warden’s cordial invitation +to “go through the institution.” As the car lurched over its uneven +roadbed, back toward Lincoln, Alexandra thought of how she and Frank had been +wrecked by the same storm and of how, although she could come out into the +sunlight, she had not much more left in her life than he. She remembered some +lines from a poem she had liked in her schooldays:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Henceforth the world will only be<br/> +A wider prison-house to me,— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her heart; some such feeling as had +twice frozen Frank Shabata’s features while they talked together. She +wished she were back on the Divide. +</p> + +<p> +When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk held up one finger and beckoned to +her. As she approached his desk, he handed her a telegram. Alexandra took the +yellow envelope and looked at it in perplexity, then stepped into the elevator +without opening it. As she walked down the corridor toward her room, she +reflected that she was, in a manner, immune from evil tidings. On reaching her +room she locked the door, and sitting down on a chair by the dresser, opened +the telegram. It was from Hanover, and it read:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait here until you come. Please hurry. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +C<small>ARL</small> L<small>INSTRUM</small>. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra put her head down on the dresser and burst into tears. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"></a>III</h2> + +<p> +The next afternoon Carl and Alexandra were walking across the fields from Mrs. +Hiller’s. Alexandra had left Lincoln after midnight, and Carl had met her +at the Hanover station early in the morning. After they reached home, Alexandra +had gone over to Mrs. Hiller’s to leave a little present she had bought +for her in the city. They stayed at the old lady’s door but a moment, and +then came out to spend the rest of the afternoon in the sunny fields. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra had taken off her black traveling suit and put on a white dress; +partly because she saw that her black clothes made Carl uncomfortable and +partly because she felt oppressed by them herself. They seemed a little like +the prison where she had worn them yesterday, and to be out of place in the +open fields. Carl had changed very little. His cheeks were browner and fuller. +He looked less like a tired scholar than when he went away a year ago, but no +one, even now, would have taken him for a man of business. His soft, lustrous +black eyes, his whimsical smile, would be less against him in the Klondike than +on the Divide. There are always dreamers on the frontier. +</p> + +<p> +Carl and Alexandra had been talking since morning. Her letter had never reached +him. He had first learned of her misfortune from a San Francisco paper, four +weeks old, which he had picked up in a saloon, and which contained a brief +account of Frank Shabata’s trial. When he put down the paper, he had +already made up his mind that he could reach Alexandra as quickly as a letter +could; and ever since he had been on the way; day and night, by the fastest +boats and trains he could catch. His steamer had been held back two days by +rough weather. +</p> + +<p> +As they came out of Mrs. Hiller’s garden they took up their talk again +where they had left it. +</p> + +<p> +“But could you come away like that, Carl, without arranging things? Could +you just walk off and leave your business?” Alexandra asked. +</p> + +<p> +Carl laughed. “Prudent Alexandra! You see, my dear, I happen to have an +honest partner. I trust him with everything. In fact, it’s been his +enterprise from the beginning, you know. I’m in it only because he took +me in. I’ll have to go back in the spring. Perhaps you will want to go +with me then. We haven’t turned up millions yet, but we’ve got a +start that’s worth following. But this winter I’d like to spend +with you. You won’t feel that we ought to wait longer, on Emil’s +account, will you, Alexandra?” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra shook her head. “No, Carl; I don’t feel that way about +it. And surely you needn’t mind anything Lou and Oscar say now. They are +much angrier with me about Emil, now, than about you. They say it was all my +fault. That I ruined him by sending him to college.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t care a button for Lou or Oscar. The moment I knew you +were in trouble, the moment I thought you might need me, it all looked +different. You’ve always been a triumphant kind of person.” Carl +hesitated, looking sidewise at her strong, full figure. “But you do need +me now, Alexandra?” +</p> + +<p> +She put her hand on his arm. “I needed you terribly when it happened, +Carl. I cried for you at night. Then everything seemed to get hard inside of +me, and I thought perhaps I should never care for you again. But when I got +your telegram yesterday, then—then it was just as it used to be. You are +all I have in the world, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were passing the Shabatas’ empty +house now, but they avoided the orchard path and took one that led over by the +pasture pond. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you understand it, Carl?” Alexandra murmured. “I have +had nobody but Ivar and Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you understand it? +Could you have believed that of Marie Tovesky? I would have been cut to pieces, +little by little, before I would have betrayed her trust in me!” +</p> + +<p> +Carl looked at the shining spot of water before them. “Maybe she was cut +to pieces, too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they both did. That was +why Emil went to Mexico, of course. And he was going away again, you tell me, +though he had only been home three weeks. You remember that Sunday when I went +with Emil up to the French Church fair? I thought that day there was some kind +of feeling, something unusual, between them. I meant to talk to you about it. +But on my way back I met Lou and Oscar and got so angry that I forgot +everything else. You mustn’t be hard on them, Alexandra. Sit down here by +the pond a minute. I want to tell you something.” +</p> + +<p> +They sat down on the grass-tufted bank and Carl told her how he had seen Emil +and Marie out by the pond that morning, more than a year ago, and how young and +charming and full of grace they had seemed to him. “It happens like that +in the world sometimes, Alexandra,” he added earnestly. “I’ve +seen it before. There are women who spread ruin around them through no fault of +theirs, just by being too beautiful, too full of life and love. They +can’t help it. People come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter. +I used to feel that in her when she was a little girl. Do you remember how all +the Bohemians crowded round her in the store that day, when she gave Emil her +candy? You remember those yellow sparks in her eyes?” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra sighed. “Yes. People couldn’t help loving her. Poor Frank +does, even now, I think; though he’s got himself in such a tangle that +for a long time his love has been bitterer than his hate. But if you saw there +was anything wrong, you ought to have told me, Carl.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. “My dear, it was something one +felt in the air, as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in summer. I +didn’t <i>see</i> anything. Simply, when I was with those two young +things, I felt my blood go quicker, I felt—how shall I say it?—an +acceleration of life. After I got away, it was all too delicate, too +intangible, to write about.” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra looked at him mournfully. “I try to be more liberal about such +things than I used to be. I try to realize that we are not all made alike. +Only, why couldn’t it have been Raoul Marcel, or Jan Smirka? Why did it +have to be my boy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because he was the best there was, I suppose. They were both the best +you had here.” +</p> + +<p> +The sun was dropping low in the west when the two friends rose and took the +path again. The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, the owls were flying +home to the prairie-dog town. When they came to the corner where the pastures +joined, Alexandra’s twelve young colts were galloping in a drove over the +brow of the hill. +</p> + +<p> +“Carl,” said Alexandra, “I should like to go up there with +you in the spring. I haven’t been on the water since we crossed the +ocean, when I was a little girl. After we first came out here I used to dream +sometimes about the shipyard where father worked, and a little sort of inlet, +full of masts.” Alexandra paused. After a moment’s thought she +said, “But you would never ask me to go away for good, would you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not, my dearest. I think I know how you feel about this +country as well as you do yourself.” Carl took her hand in both his own +and pressed it tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is gone. When I was on the train +this morning, and we got near Hanover, I felt something like I did when I drove +back with Emil from the river that time, in the dry year. I was glad to come +back to it. I’ve lived here a long time. There is great peace here, Carl, +and freedom.... I thought when I came out of that prison, where poor Frank is, +that I should never feel free again. But I do, here.” Alexandra took a +deep breath and looked off into the red west. +</p> + +<p> +“You belong to the land,” Carl murmured, “as you have always +said. Now more than ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, now more than ever. You remember what you once said about the +graveyard, and the old story writing itself over? Only it is we who write it, +with the best we have.” +</p> + +<p> +They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, overlooking the house and the +windmill and the stables that marked the site of John Bergson’s +homestead. On every side the brown waves of the earth rolled away to meet the +sky. +</p> + +<p> +“Lou and Oscar can’t see those things,” said Alexandra +suddenly. “Suppose I do will my land to their children, what difference +will that make? The land belongs to the future, Carl; that’s the way it +seems to me. How many of the names on the county clerk’s plat will be +there in fifty years? I might as well try to will the sunset over there to my +brother’s children. We come and go, but the land is always here. And the +people who love it and understand it are the people who own it—for a +little while.” +</p> + +<p> +Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was still gazing into the west, and in her +face there was that exalted serenity that sometimes came to her at moments of +deep feeling. The level rays of the sinking sun shone in her clear eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you thinking of such things now, Alexandra?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had a dream before I went to Lincoln—But I will tell you about +that afterward, after we are married. It will never come true, now, in the way +I thought it might.” She took Carl’s arm and they walked toward the +gate. “How many times we have walked this path together, Carl. How many +times we will walk it again! Does it seem to you like coming back to your own +place? Do you feel at peace with the world here? I think we shall be very +happy. I haven’t any fears. I think when friends marry, they are safe. We +don’t suffer like—those young ones.” Alexandra ended with a +sigh. +</p> + +<p> +They had reached the gate. Before Carl opened it, he drew Alexandra to him and +kissed her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +She leaned heavily on his shoulder. “I am tired,” she murmured. +“I have been very lonely, Carl.” +</p> + +<p> +They went into the house together, leaving the Divide behind them, under the +evening star. Fortunate country, that is one day to receive hearts like +Alexandra’s into its bosom, to give them out again in the yellow wheat, +in the rustling corn, in the shining eyes of youth! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: O Pioneers! + +Author: Willa Cather + +Posting Date: June 25, 2008 [EBook #24] +Release Date: January 1992 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Robb + + + + + +O PIONEERS! + +by Willa Cather + + + + +PART I. The Wild Land + + + + +I + +One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, +anchored on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown +away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the +cluster of low drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under +a gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the +tough prairie sod; some of them looked as if they had been moved in +overnight, and others as if they were straying off by themselves, +headed straight for the open plain. None of them had any appearance +of permanence, and the howling wind blew under them as well as over +them. The main street was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard, +which ran from the squat red railway station and the grain "elevator" +at the north end of the town to the lumber yard and the horse pond +at the south end. On either side of this road straggled two uneven +rows of wooden buildings; the general merchandise stores, the two +banks, the drug store, the feed store, the saloon, the post-office. +The board sidewalks were gray with trampled snow, but at two o'clock +in the afternoon the shopkeepers, having come back from dinner, +were keeping well behind their frosty windows. The children were +all in school, and there was nobody abroad in the streets but a +few rough-looking countrymen in coarse overcoats, with their long +caps pulled down to their noses. Some of them had brought their +wives to town, and now and then a red or a plaid shawl flashed out +of one store into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars along +the street a few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, +shivered under their blankets. About the station everything was +quiet, for there would not be another train in until night. + +On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede +boy, crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth +coat was much too big for him and made him look like a little old +man. His shrunken brown flannel dress had been washed many times +and left a long stretch of stocking between the hem of his skirt +and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed shoes. His cap was pulled +down over his ears; his nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped and +red with cold. He cried quietly, and the few people who hurried +by did not notice him. He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to +go into the store and ask for help, so he sat wringing his long +sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole beside him, whimpering, "My +kitten, oh, my kitten! Her will fweeze!" At the top of the pole +crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing faintly and clinging +desperately to the wood with her claws. The boy had been left +at the store while his sister went to the doctor's office, and in +her absence a dog had chased his kitten up the pole. The little +creature had never been so high before, and she was too frightened +to move. Her master was sunk in despair. He was a little country +boy, and this village was to him a very strange and perplexing +place, where people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. He +always felt shy and awkward here, and wanted to hide behind things +for fear some one might laugh at him. Just now, he was too unhappy +to care who laughed. At last he seemed to see a ray of hope: his +sister was coming, and he got up and ran toward her in his heavy +shoes. + +His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she walked rapidly and +resolutely, as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she +was going to do next. She wore a man's long ulster (not as if it +were an affliction, but as if it were very comfortable and belonged +to her; carried it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap, +tied down with a thick veil. She had a serious, thoughtful face, +and her clear, deep blue eyes were fixed intently on the distance, +without seeming to see anything, as if she were in trouble. She +did not notice the little boy until he pulled her by the coat. +Then she stopped short and stooped down to wipe his wet face. + +"Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. +What is the matter with you?" + +"My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased +her up there." His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his +coat, pointed up to the wretched little creature on the pole. + +"Oh, Emil! Didn't I tell you she'd get us into trouble of some +kind, if you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, +I ought to have known better myself." She went to the foot of the +pole and held out her arms, crying, "Kitty, kitty, kitty," but the +kitten only mewed and faintly waved its tail. Alexandra turned +away decidedly. "No, she won't come down. Somebody will have to +go up after her. I saw the Linstrums' wagon in town. I'll go and +see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do something. Only you must +stop crying, or I won't go a step. Where's your comforter? Did +you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold still, till I put +this on you." + +She unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his +throat. A shabby little traveling man, who was just then coming out +of the store on his way to the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly +at the shining mass of hair she bared when she took off her veil; +two thick braids, pinned about her head in the German way, with a +fringe of reddish-yellow curls blowing out from under her cap. He +took his cigar out of his mouth and held the wet end between the +fingers of his woolen glove. "My God, girl, what a head of hair!" +he exclaimed, quite innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with +a glance of Amazonian fierceness and drew in her lower lip--most +unnecessary severity. It gave the little clothing drummer such a +start that he actually let his cigar fall to the sidewalk and went +off weakly in the teeth of the wind to the saloon. His hand was +still unsteady when he took his glass from the bartender. His +feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed before, but never +so mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, as if some one had +taken advantage of him. When a drummer had been knocking about in +little drab towns and crawling across the wintry country in dirty +smoking-cars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced upon a fine +human creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a man? + +While the little drummer was drinking to recover his nerve, Alexandra +hurried to the drug store as the most likely place to find Carl +Linstrum. There he was, turning over a portfolio of chromo "studies" +which the druggist sold to the Hanover women who did china-painting. +Alexandra explained her predicament, and the boy followed her to +the corner, where Emil still sat by the pole. + +"I'll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot +they have some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute." Carl +thrust his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up +the street against the north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, +slight and narrow-chested. When he came back with the spikes, +Alexandra asked him what he had done with his overcoat. + +"I left it in the drug store. I couldn't climb in it, anyhow. +Catch me if I fall, Emil," he called back as he began his ascent. +Alexandra watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the +ground. The kitten would not budge an inch. Carl had to go to +the very top of the pole, and then had some difficulty in tearing +her from her hold. When he reached the ground, he handed the cat +to her tearful little master. "Now go into the store with her, +Emil, and get warm." He opened the door for the child. "Wait a +minute, Alexandra. Why can't I drive for you as far as our place? +It's getting colder every minute. Have you seen the doctor?" + +"Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father can't +get better; can't get well." The girl's lip trembled. She looked +fixedly up the bleak street as if she were gathering her strength +to face something, as if she were trying with all her might to +grasp a situation which, no matter how painful, must be met and +dealt with somehow. The wind flapped the skirts of her heavy coat +about her. + +Carl did not say anything, but she felt his sympathy. He, too, was +lonely. He was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very +quiet in all his movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin +face, and his mouth was too sensitive for a boy's. The lips had +already a little curl of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends +stood for a few moments on the windy street corner, not speaking +a word, as two travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand +and admit their perplexity in silence. When Carl turned away he +said, "I'll see to your team." Alexandra went into the store to +have her purchases packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm before +she set out on her long cold drive. + +When she looked for Emil, she found him sitting on a step of the +staircase that led up to the clothing and carpet department. He +was playing with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was +tying her handkerchief over the kitten's head for a bonnet. Marie +was a stranger in the country, having come from Omaha with her mother +to visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. She was a dark child, with brown +curly hair, like a brunette doll's, a coaxing little red mouth, and +round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one noticed her eyes; the brown +iris had golden glints that made them look like gold-stone, or, in +softer lights, like that Colorado mineral called tiger-eye. + +The country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their +shoe-tops, but this city child was dressed in what was then called +the "Kate Greenaway" manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered +full from the yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her +poke bonnet, gave her the look of a quaint little woman. She had +a white fur tippet about her neck and made no fussy objections when +Emil fingered it admiringly. Alexandra had not the heart to take +him away from so pretty a playfellow, and she let them tease the +kitten together until Joe Tovesky came in noisily and picked up +his little niece, setting her on his shoulder for every one to see. +His children were all boys, and he adored this little creature. +His cronies formed a circle about him, admiring and teasing the +little girl, who took their jokes with great good nature. They +were all delighted with her, for they seldom saw so pretty and +carefully nurtured a child. They told her that she must choose +one of them for a sweetheart, and each began pressing his suit and +offering her bribes; candy, and little pigs, and spotted calves. +She looked archly into the big, brown, mustached faces, smelling +of spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny forefinger delicately +over Joe's bristly chin and said, "Here is my sweetheart." + +The Bohemians roared with laughter, and Marie's uncle hugged her +until she cried, "Please don't, Uncle Joe! You hurt me." Each +of Joe's friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all +around, though she did not like country candy very well. Perhaps +that was why she bethought herself of Emil. "Let me down, Uncle +Joe," she said, "I want to give some of my candy to that nice little +boy I found." She walked graciously over to Emil, followed by her +lusty admirers, who formed a new circle and teased the little boy +until he hid his face in his sister's skirts, and she had to scold +him for being such a baby. + +The farm people were making preparations to start for home. The +women were checking over their groceries and pinning their big red +shawls about their heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy +with what money they had left, were showing each other new boots and +gloves and blue flannel shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking +raw alcohol, tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was said to +fortify one effectually against the cold, and they smacked their +lips after each pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every +other noise in the place, and the overheated store sounded of +their spirited language as it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens, +and kerosene. + +Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with +a brass handle. "Come," he said, "I've fed and watered your team, +and the wagon is ready." He carried Emil out and tucked him down +in the straw in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy +sleepy, but he still clung to his kitten. + +"You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. +When I get big I'll climb and get little boys' kittens for them," +he murmured drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, +Emil and his cat were both fast asleep. + +Although it was only four o'clock, the winter day was fading. The +road led southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that +glimmered in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young +faces that were turned mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, +who seemed to be looking with such anguished perplexity into the +future; upon the sombre eyes of the boy, who seemed already to be +looking into the past. The little town behind them had vanished as +if it had never been, had fallen behind the swell of the prairie, +and the stern frozen country received them into its bosom. The +homesteads were few and far apart; here and there a windmill gaunt +against the sky, a sod house crouching in a hollow. But the great +fact was the land itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little +beginnings of human society that struggled in its sombre wastes. +It was from facing this vast hardness that the boy's mouth had +become so bitter; because he felt that men were too weak to make +any mark here, that the land wanted to be let alone, to preserve +its own fierce strength, its peculiar, savage kind of beauty, its +uninterrupted mournfulness. + +The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had +less to say to each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow +penetrated to their hearts. + +"Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut wood to-day?" Carl asked. + +"Yes. I'm almost sorry I let them go, it's turned so cold. But +mother frets if the wood gets low." She stopped and put her hand +to her forehead, brushing back her hair. "I don't know what is to +become of us, Carl, if father has to die. I don't dare to think +about it. I wish we could all go with him and let the grass grow +back over everything." + +Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was the Norwegian graveyard, +where the grass had, indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy and +red, hiding even the wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a +very helpful companion, but there was nothing he could say. + +"Of course," Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, "the +boys are strong and work hard, but we've always depended so on +father that I don't see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if +there were nothing to go ahead for." + +"Does your father know?" + +"Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. +I think he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It's +a comfort to him that my chickens are laying right on through the +cold weather and bringing in a little money. I wish we could keep +his mind off such things, but I don't have much time to be with +him now." + +"I wonder if he'd like to have me bring my magic lantern over some +evening?" + +Alexandra turned her face toward him. "Oh, Carl! Have you got +it?" + +"Yes. It's back there in the straw. Didn't you notice the box +I was carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, +and it worked ever so well, makes fine big pictures." + +"What are they about?" + +"Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny +pictures about cannibals. I'm going to paint some slides for it +on glass, out of the Hans Andersen book." + +Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of +the child left in people who have had to grow up too soon. "Do +bring it over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I'm sure it +will please father. Are the pictures colored? Then I know he'll +like them. He likes the calendars I get him in town. I wish I +could get more. You must leave me here, mustn't you? It's been +nice to have company." + +Carl stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. +"It's pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but +I think I'd better light your lantern, in case you should need it." + +He gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where +he crouched down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen +trials he succeeded in lighting the lantern, which he placed in +front of Alexandra, half covering it with a blanket so that the +light would not shine in her eyes. "Now, wait until I find my box. +Yes, here it is. Good-night, Alexandra. Try not to worry." Carl +sprang to the ground and ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum +homestead. "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!" he called back as he disappeared over +a ridge and dropped into a sand gully. The wind answered him like +an echo, "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!" Alexandra drove off alone. The +rattle of her wagon was lost in the howling of the wind, but her +lantern, held firmly between her feet, made a moving point of light +along the highway, going deeper and deeper into the dark country. + + + + +II + +On one of the ridges of that wintry waste stood the low log house +in which John Bergson was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier +to find than many another, because it overlooked Norway Creek, a +shallow, muddy stream that sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood +still, at the bottom of a winding ravine with steep, shelving sides +overgrown with brush and cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This creek +gave a sort of identity to the farms that bordered upon it. Of all +the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human +landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening. The +houses on the Divide were small and were usually tucked away +in low places; you did not see them until you came directly upon +them. Most of them were built of the sod itself, and were only +the unescapable ground in another form. The roads were but faint +tracks in the grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. The +record of the plow was insignificant, like the feeble scratches on +stone left by prehistoric races, so indeterminate that they may, +after all, be only the markings of glaciers, and not a record of +human strivings. + +In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression +upon the wild land he had come to tame. It was still a wild thing +that had its ugly moods; and no one knew when they were likely to +come, or why. Mischance hung over it. Its Genius was unfriendly +to man. The sick man was feeling this as he lay looking out of +the window, after the doctor had left him, on the day following +Alexandra's trip to town. There it lay outside his door, the same +land, the same lead-colored miles. He knew every ridge and draw +and gully between him and the horizon. To the south, his plowed +fields; to the east, the sod stables, the cattle corral, the +pond,--and then the grass. + +Bergson went over in his mind the things that had held him back. +One winter his cattle had perished in a blizzard. The next summer +one of his plow horses broke its leg in a prairiedog hole and had +to be shot. Another summer he lost his hogs from cholera, and +a valuable stallion died from a rattlesnake bite. Time and again +his crops had failed. He had lost two children, boys, that came +between Lou and Emil, and there had been the cost of sickness and +death. Now, when he had at last struggled out of debt, he was +going to die himself. He was only forty-six, and had, of course, +counted upon more time. + +Bergson had spent his first five years on the Divide getting into +debt, and the last six getting out. He had paid off his mortgages +and had ended pretty much where he began, with the land. He owned +exactly six hundred and forty acres of what stretched outside his +door; his own original homestead and timber claim, making three +hundred and twenty acres, and the half-section adjoining, the +homestead of a younger brother who had given up the fight, gone +back to Chicago to work in a fancy bakery and distinguish himself +in a Swedish athletic club. So far John had not attempted to +cultivate the second half-section, but used it for pasture land, +and one of his sons rode herd there in open weather. + +John Bergson had the Old-World belief that land, in itself, is +desirable. But this land was an enigma. It was like a horse that +no one knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks +things to pieces. He had an idea that no one understood how to +farm it properly, and this he often discussed with Alexandra. Their +neighbors, certainly, knew even less about farming than he did. +Many of them had never worked on a farm until they took up their +homesteads. They had been HANDWERKERS at home; tailors, locksmiths, +joiners, cigar-makers, etc. Bergson himself had worked in a +shipyard. + +For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking about these things. His +bed stood in the sitting-room, next to the kitchen. Through the +day, while the baking and washing and ironing were going on, the +father lay and looked up at the roof beams that he himself had +hewn, or out at the cattle in the corral. He counted the cattle +over and over. It diverted him to speculate as to how much weight +each of the steers would probably put on by spring. He often called +his daughter in to talk to her about this. Before Alexandra was +twelve years old she had begun to be a help to him, and as she grew +older he had come to depend more and more upon her resourcefulness +and good judgment. His boys were willing enough to work, but when +he talked with them they usually irritated him. It was Alexandra +who read the papers and followed the markets, and who learned by +the mistakes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who could always +tell about what it had cost to fatten each steer, and who could +guess the weight of a hog before it went on the scales closer than +John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar were industrious, but he could +never teach them to use their heads about their work. + +Alexandra, her father often said to himself, was like her +grandfather; which was his way of saying that she was intelligent. +John Bergson's father had been a shipbuilder, a man of considerable +force and of some fortune. Late in life he married a second time, +a Stockholm woman of questionable character, much younger than he, +who goaded him into every sort of extravagance. On the shipbuilder's +part, this marriage was an infatuation, the despairing folly of +a powerful man who cannot bear to grow old. In a few years his +unprincipled wife warped the probity of a lifetime. He speculated, +lost his own fortune and funds entrusted to him by poor seafaring +men, and died disgraced, leaving his children nothing. But when all +was said, he had come up from the sea himself, had built up a proud +little business with no capital but his own skill and foresight, and +had proved himself a man. In his daughter, John Bergson recognized +the strength of will, and the simple direct way of thinking things +out, that had characterized his father in his better days. He +would much rather, of course, have seen this likeness in one of +his sons, but it was not a question of choice. As he lay there +day after day he had to accept the situation as it was, and to be +thankful that there was one among his children to whom he could +entrust the future of his family and the possibilities of his +hard-won land. + +The winter twilight was fading. The sick man heard his wife strike +a match in the kitchen, and the light of a lamp glimmered through +the cracks of the door. It seemed like a light shining far away. +He turned painfully in his bed and looked at his white hands, with +all the work gone out of them. He was ready to give up, he felt. +He did not know how it had come about, but he was quite willing to +go deep under his fields and rest, where the plow could not find +him. He was tired of making mistakes. He was content to leave the +tangle to other hands; he thought of his Alexandra's strong ones. + +"DOTTER," he called feebly, "DOTTER!" He heard her quick step and +saw her tall figure appear in the doorway, with the light of the +lamp behind her. He felt her youth and strength, how easily she +moved and stooped and lifted. But he would not have had it again +if he could, not he! He knew the end too well to wish to begin +again. He knew where it all went to, what it all became. + +His daughter came and lifted him up on his pillows. She called +him by an old Swedish name that she used to call him when she was +little and took his dinner to him in the shipyard. + +"Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I want to speak to them." + +"They are feeding the horses, father. They have just come back +from the Blue. Shall I call them?" + +He sighed. "No, no. Wait until they come in. Alexandra, you will +have to do the best you can for your brothers. Everything will +come on you." + +"I will do all I can, father." + +"Don't let them get discouraged and go off like Uncle Otto. I want +them to keep the land." + +"We will, father. We will never lose the land." + +There was a sound of heavy feet in the kitchen. Alexandra went +to the door and beckoned to her brothers, two strapping boys of +seventeen and nineteen. They came in and stood at the foot of the +bed. Their father looked at them searchingly, though it was too +dark to see their faces; they were just the same boys, he told +himself, he had not been mistaken in them. The square head and +heavy shoulders belonged to Oscar, the elder. The younger boy was +quicker, but vacillating. + +"Boys," said the father wearily, "I want you to keep the land +together and to be guided by your sister. I have talked to her +since I have been sick, and she knows all my wishes. I want no +quarrels among my children, and so long as there is one house there +must be one head. Alexandra is the oldest, and she knows my wishes. +She will do the best she can. If she makes mistakes, she will not +make so many as I have made. When you marry, and want a house of +your own, the land will be divided fairly, according to the courts. +But for the next few years you will have it hard, and you must all +keep together. Alexandra will manage the best she can." + +Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, replied because he +was the older, "Yes, father. It would be so anyway, without your +speaking. We will all work the place together." + +"And you will be guided by your sister, boys, and be good brothers +to her, and good sons to your mother? That is good. And Alexandra +must not work in the fields any more. There is no necessity now. +Hire a man when you need help. She can make much more with her +eggs and butter than the wages of a man. It was one of my mistakes +that I did not find that out sooner. Try to break a little more +land every year; sod corn is good for fodder. Keep turning the +land, and always put up more hay than you need. Don't grudge your +mother a little time for plowing her garden and setting out fruit +trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has been a good +mother to you, and she has always missed the old country." + +When they went back to the kitchen the boys sat down silently at +the table. Throughout the meal they looked down at their plates +and did not lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, although +they had been working in the cold all day, and there was a rabbit +stewed in gravy for supper, and prune pies. + +John Bergson had married beneath him, but he had married a good +housewife. Mrs. Bergson was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy +and placid like her son, Oscar, but there was something comfortable +about her; perhaps it was her own love of comfort. For eleven years +she had worthily striven to maintain some semblance of household +order amid conditions that made order very difficult. Habit +was very strong with Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting efforts to +repeat the routine of her old life among new surroundings had done +a great deal to keep the family from disintegrating morally and +getting careless in their ways. The Bergsons had a log house, for +instance, only because Mrs. Bergson would not live in a sod house. +She missed the fish diet of her own country, and twice every summer +she sent the boys to the river, twenty miles to the southward, to +fish for channel cat. When the children were little she used to +load them all into the wagon, the baby in its crib, and go fishing +herself. + +Alexandra often said that if her mother were cast upon a desert +island, she would thank God for her deliverance, make a garden, +and find something to preserve. Preserving was almost a mania with +Mrs. Bergson. Stout as she was, she roamed the scrubby banks of +Norway Creek looking for fox grapes and goose plums, like a wild +creature in search of prey. She made a yellow jam of the insipid +ground-cherries that grew on the prairie, flavoring it with lemon +peel; and she made a sticky dark conserve of garden tomatoes. She +had experimented even with the rank buffalo-pea, and she could +not see a fine bronze cluster of them without shaking her head and +murmuring, "What a pity!" When there was nothing more to preserve, +she began to pickle. The amount of sugar she used in these processes +was sometimes a serious drain upon the family resources. She was +a good mother, but she was glad when her children were old enough +not to be in her way in the kitchen. She had never quite forgiven +John Bergson for bringing her to the end of the earth; but, now +that she was there, she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct her +old life in so far as that was possible. She could still take some +comfort in the world if she had bacon in the cave, glass jars on +the shelves, and sheets in the press. She disapproved of all her +neighbors because of their slovenly housekeeping, and the women +thought her very proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on her way to +Norway Creek, stopped to see old Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in +the haymow "for fear Mis' Bergson would catch her barefoot." + + + + +III + +One Sunday afternoon in July, six months after John Bergson's death, +Carl was sitting in the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming +over an illustrated paper, when he heard the rattle of a wagon along +the hill road. Looking up he recognized the Bergsons' team, with +two seats in the wagon, which meant they were off for a pleasure +excursion. Oscar and Lou, on the front seat, wore their cloth hats +and coats, never worn except on Sundays, and Emil, on the second +seat with Alexandra, sat proudly in his new trousers, made from a +pair of his father's, and a pink-striped shirt, with a wide ruffled +collar. Oscar stopped the horses and waved to Carl, who caught up +his hat and ran through the melon patch to join them. + +"Want to go with us?" Lou called. "We're going to Crazy Ivar's to +buy a hammock." + +"Sure." Carl ran up panting, and clambering over the wheel sat +down beside Emil. "I've always wanted to see Ivar's pond. They +say it's the biggest in all the country. Aren't you afraid to go +to Ivar's in that new shirt, Emil? He might want it and take it +right off your back." + +Emil grinned. "I'd be awful scared to go," he admitted, "if you +big boys weren't along to take care of me. Did you ever hear him +howl, Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the country howling +at night because he is afraid the Lord will destroy him. Mother +thinks he must have done something awful wicked." + +Lou looked back and winked at Carl. "What would you do, Emil, if +you was out on the prairie by yourself and seen him coming?" + +Emil stared. "Maybe I could hide in a badger-hole," he suggested +doubtfully. + +"But suppose there wasn't any badger-hole," Lou persisted. "Would +you run?" + +"No, I'd be too scared to run," Emil admitted mournfully, twisting +his fingers. "I guess I'd sit right down on the ground and say my +prayers." + +The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished his whip over the broad +backs of the horses. + +"He wouldn't hurt you, Emil," said Carl persuasively. "He came +to doctor our mare when she ate green corn and swelled up most as +big as the water-tank. He petted her just like you do your cats. +I couldn't understand much he said, for he don't talk any English, +but he kept patting her and groaning as if he had the pain himself, +and saying, 'There now, sister, that's easier, that's better!'" + +Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled delightedly and looked up +at his sister. + +"I don't think he knows anything at all about doctoring," said +Oscar scornfully. "They say when horses have distemper he takes +the medicine himself, and then prays over the horses." + +Alexandra spoke up. "That's what the Crows said, but he cured +their horses, all the same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. +But if you can get him on a clear day, you can learn a great deal +from him. He understands animals. Didn't I see him take the horn +off the Berquist's cow when she had torn it loose and went crazy? +She was tearing all over the place, knocking herself against things. +And at last she ran out on the roof of the old dugout and her legs +went through and there she stuck, bellowing. Ivar came running +with his white bag, and the moment he got to her she was quiet and +let him saw her horn off and daub the place with tar." + +Emil had been watching his sister, his face reflecting the sufferings +of the cow. "And then didn't it hurt her any more?" he asked. + +Alexandra patted him. "No, not any more. And in two days they +could use her milk again." + +The road to Ivar's homestead was a very poor one. He had settled +in the rough country across the county line, where no one lived but +some Russians,--half a dozen families who dwelt together in one long +house, divided off like barracks. Ivar had explained his choice +by saying that the fewer neighbors he had, the fewer temptations. +Nevertheless, when one considered that his chief business was +horse-doctoring, it seemed rather short-sighted of him to live in the +most inaccessible place he could find. The Bergson wagon lurched +along over the rough hummocks and grass banks, followed the bottom +of winding draws, or skirted the margin of wide lagoons, where the +golden coreopsis grew up out of the clear water and the wild ducks +rose with a whirr of wings. + +Lou looked after them helplessly. "I wish I'd brought my gun, +anyway, Alexandra," he said fretfully. "I could have hidden it +under the straw in the bottom of the wagon." + +"Then we'd have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, they say he can smell +dead birds. And if he knew, we wouldn't get anything out of him, +not even a hammock. I want to talk to him, and he won't talk sense +if he's angry. It makes him foolish." + +Lou sniffed. "Whoever heard of him talking sense, anyhow! I'd +rather have ducks for supper than Crazy Ivar's tongue." + +Emil was alarmed. "Oh, but, Lou, you don't want to make him mad! +He might howl!" + +They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the horses up the crumbling +side of a clay bank. They had left the lagoons and the red grass +behind them. In Crazy Ivar's country the grass was short and gray, +the draws deeper than they were in the Bergsons' neighborhood, +and the land was all broken up into hillocks and clay ridges. The +wild flowers disappeared, and only in the bottom of the draws and +gullies grew a few of the very toughest and hardiest: shoestring, +and ironweed, and snow-on-the-mountain. + +"Look, look, Emil, there's Ivar's big pond!" Alexandra pointed to +a shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. +At one end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow +bushes, and above it a door and a single window were set into the +hillside. You would not have seen them at all but for the reflection +of the sunlight upon the four panes of window-glass. And that was +all you saw. Not a shed, not a corral, not a well, not even a path +broken in the curly grass. But for the piece of rusty stovepipe +sticking up through the sod, you could have walked over the roof +of Ivar's dwelling without dreaming that you were near a human +habitation. Ivar had lived for three years in the clay bank, +without defiling the face of nature any more than the coyote that +had lived there before him had done. + +When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar was sitting in the +doorway of his house, reading the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly +shaped old man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs. +His shaggy white hair, falling in a thick mane about his ruddy +cheeks, made him look older than he was. He was barefoot, but +he wore a clean shirt of unbleached cotton, open at the neck. He +always put on a clean shirt when Sunday morning came round, though +he never went to church. He had a peculiar religion of his own +and could not get on with any of the denominations. Often he did +not see anybody from one week's end to another. He kept a calendar, +and every morning he checked off a day, so that he was never in +any doubt as to which day of the week it was. Ivar hired himself +out in threshing and corn-husking time, and he doctored sick animals +when he was sent for. When he was at home, he made hammocks out +of twine and committed chapters of the Bible to memory. + +Ivar found contentment in the solitude he had sought out for himself. +He disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the +bits of broken china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown +into the sunflower patch. He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of +the wild sod. He always said that the badgers had cleaner houses +than people, and that when he took a housekeeper her name would +be Mrs. Badger. He best expressed his preference for his wild +homestead by saying that his Bible seemed truer to him there. If +one stood in the doorway of his cave, and looked off at the rough +land, the smiling sky, the curly grass white in the hot sunlight; +if one listened to the rapturous song of the lark, the drumming of +the quail, the burr of the locust against that vast silence, one +understood what Ivar meant. + +On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with happiness. He closed +the book on his knee, keeping the place with his horny finger, and +repeated softly:-- + + He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills; + + They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench + their thirst. + + The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which + he hath planted; + + Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees + are her house. + + The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for + the conies. + +Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard the Bergsons' wagon +approaching, and he sprang up and ran toward it. + +"No guns, no guns!" he shouted, waving his arms distractedly. + +"No, Ivar, no guns," Alexandra called reassuringly. + +He dropped his arms and went up to the wagon, smiling amiably and +looking at them out of his pale blue eyes. + +"We want to buy a hammock, if you have one," Alexandra explained, +"and my little brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where so +many birds come." + +Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the horses' noses and +feeling about their mouths behind the bits. "Not many birds just +now. A few ducks this morning; and some snipe come to drink. But +there was a crane last week. She spent one night and came back the +next evening. I don't know why. It is not her season, of course. +Many of them go over in the fall. Then the pond is full of strange +voices every night." + +Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked thoughtful. "Ask him, +Alexandra, if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have +heard so." + +She had some difficulty in making the old man understand. + +He looked puzzled at first, then smote his hands together as he +remembered. "Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and +pink feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in the afternoon +and kept flying about the pond and screaming until dark. She was +in trouble of some sort, but I could not understand her. She was +going over to the other ocean, maybe, and did not know how far it +was. She was afraid of never getting there. She was more mournful +than our birds here; she cried in the night. She saw the light +from my window and darted up to it. Maybe she thought my house +was a boat, she was such a wild thing. Next morning, when the sun +rose, I went out to take her food, but she flew up into the sky +and went on her way." Ivar ran his fingers through his thick hair. +"I have many strange birds stop with me here. They come from very +far away and are great company. I hope you boys never shoot wild +birds?" + +Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his bushy head. "Yes, I know +boys are thoughtless. But these wild things are God's birds. He +watches over them and counts them, as we do our cattle; Christ says +so in the New Testament." + +"Now, Ivar," Lou asked, "may we water our horses at your pond and +give them some feed? It's a bad road to your place." + +"Yes, yes, it is." The old man scrambled about and began to loose +the tugs. "A bad road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at +home!" + +Oscar brushed the old man aside. "We'll take care of the horses, +Ivar. You'll be finding some disease on them. Alexandra wants to +see your hammocks." + +Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little cave house. He had but +one room, neatly plastered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden +floor. There was a kitchen stove, a table covered with oilcloth, +two chairs, a clock, a calendar, a few books on the window-shelf; +nothing more. But the place was as clean as a cupboard. + +"But where do you sleep, Ivar?" Emil asked, looking about. + +Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the wall; in it was rolled +a buffalo robe. "There, my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in +winter I wrap up in this skin. Where I go to work, the beds are +not half so easy as this." + +By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. He thought a cave a +very superior kind of house. There was something pleasantly unusual +about it and about Ivar. "Do the birds know you will be kind to +them, Ivar? Is that why so many come?" he asked. + +Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his feet under him. "See, +little brother, they have come from a long way, and they are very +tired. From up there where they are flying, our country looks dark +and flat. They must have water to drink and to bathe in before +they can go on with their journey. They look this way and that, +and far below them they see something shining, like a piece of glass +set in the dark earth. That is my pond. They come to it and are +not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a little corn. They tell the other +birds, and next year more come this way. They have their roads up +there, as we have down here." + +Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. "And is that true, Ivar, about +the head ducks falling back when they are tired, and the hind ones +taking their place?" + +"Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst of it; they cut the +wind. They can only stand it there a little while--half an hour, +maybe. Then they fall back and the wedge splits a little, while +the rear ones come up the middle to the front. Then it closes up +and they fly on, with a new edge. They are always changing like +that, up in the air. Never any confusion; just like soldiers who +have been drilled." + +Alexandra had selected her hammock by the time the boys came up +from the pond. They would not come in, but sat in the shade of +the bank outside while Alexandra and Ivar talked about the birds +and about his housekeeping, and why he never ate meat, fresh or +salt. + +Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, her arms resting +on the table. Ivar was sitting on the floor at her feet. "Ivar," +she said suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the oilcloth +with her forefinger, "I came to-day more because I wanted to talk +to you than because I wanted to buy a hammock." + +"Yes?" The old man scraped his bare feet on the plank floor. + +"We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I wouldn't sell in the spring, +when everybody advised me to, and now so many people are losing +their hogs that I am frightened. What can be done?" + +Ivar's little eyes began to shine. They lost their vagueness. + +"You feed them swill and such stuff? Of course! And sour milk? +Oh, yes! And keep them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, +the hogs of this country are put upon! They become unclean, like +the hogs in the Bible. If you kept your chickens like that, what +would happen? You have a little sorghum patch, maybe? Put a fence +around it, and turn the hogs in. Build a shed to give them shade, +a thatch on poles. Let the boys haul water to them in barrels, +clean water, and plenty. Get them off the old stinking ground, and +do not let them go back there until winter. Give them only grain +and clean feed, such as you would give horses or cattle. Hogs do +not like to be filthy." + +The boys outside the door had been listening. Lou nudged his +brother. "Come, the horses are done eating. Let's hitch up and +get out of here. He'll fill her full of notions. She'll be for +having the pigs sleep with us, next." + +Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could not understand what Ivar +said, saw that the two boys were displeased. They did not mind +hard work, but they hated experiments and could never see the use +of taking pains. Even Lou, who was more elastic than his older +brother, disliked to do anything different from their neighbors. +He felt that it made them conspicuous and gave people a chance to +talk about them. + +Once they were on the homeward road, the boys forgot their ill-humor +and joked about Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose any +reforms in the care of the pigs, and they hoped she had forgotten +Ivar's talk. They agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would +never be able to prove up on his land because he worked it so little. +Alexandra privately resolved that she would have a talk with Ivar +about this and stir him up. The boys persuaded Carl to stay for +supper and go swimming in the pasture pond after dark. + +That evening, after she had washed the supper dishes, Alexandra +sat down on the kitchen doorstep, while her mother was mixing the +bread. It was a still, deep-breathing summer night, full of the +smell of the hay fields. Sounds of laughter and splashing came +up from the pasture, and when the moon rose rapidly above the bare +rim of the prairie, the pond glittered like polished metal, and +she could see the flash of white bodies as the boys ran about the +edge, or jumped into the water. Alexandra watched the shimmering +pool dreamily, but eventually her eyes went back to the sorghum +patch south of the barn, where she was planning to make her new +pig corral. + + + + +IV + +For the first three years after John Bergson's death, the affairs +of his family prospered. Then came the hard times that brought +every one on the Divide to the brink of despair; three years of +drouth and failure, the last struggle of a wild soil against the +encroaching plowshare. The first of these fruitless summers the +Bergson boys bore courageously. The failure of the corn crop made +labor cheap. Lou and Oscar hired two men and put in bigger crops +than ever before. They lost everything they spent. The whole +country was discouraged. Farmers who were already in debt had to +give up their land. A few foreclosures demoralized the county. +The settlers sat about on the wooden sidewalks in the little town +and told each other that the country was never meant for men to live +in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, to Illinois, to any +place that had been proved habitable. The Bergson boys, certainly, +would have been happier with their uncle Otto, in the bakery shop +in Chicago. Like most of their neighbors, they were meant to follow +in paths already marked out for them, not to break trails in a new +country. A steady job, a few holidays, nothing to think about, and +they would have been very happy. It was no fault of theirs that +they had been dragged into the wilderness when they were little +boys. A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy +the idea of things more than the things themselves. + +The second of these barren summers was passing. One September +afternoon Alexandra had gone over to the garden across the draw to +dig sweet potatoes--they had been thriving upon the weather that +was fatal to everything else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the +garden rows to find her, she was not working. She was standing +lost in thought, leaning upon her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying +beside her on the ground. The dry garden patch smelled of drying +vines and was strewn with yellow seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and +citrons. At one end, next the rhubarb, grew feathery asparagus, +with red berries. Down the middle of the garden was a row of +gooseberry and currant bushes. A few tough zenias and marigolds +and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the buckets of water +that Mrs. Bergson had carried there after sundown, against the +prohibition of her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the garden +path, looking intently at Alexandra. She did not hear him. She was +standing perfectly still, with that serious ease so characteristic +of her. Her thick, reddish braids, twisted about her head, fairly +burned in the sunlight. The air was cool enough to make the warm +sun pleasant on one's back and shoulders, and so clear that the +eye could follow a hawk up and up, into the blazing blue depths of +the sky. Even Carl, never a very cheerful boy, and considerably +darkened by these last two bitter years, loved the country on days +like this, felt something strong and young and wild come out of +it, that laughed at care. + +"Alexandra," he said as he approached her, "I want to talk to you. +Let's sit down by the gooseberry bushes." He picked up her sack +of potatoes and they crossed the garden. "Boys gone to town?" he +asked as he sank down on the warm, sun-baked earth. "Well, we have +made up our minds at last, Alexandra. We are really going away." + +She looked at him as if she were a little frightened. "Really, +Carl? Is it settled?" + +"Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and they will give him back +his old job in the cigar factory. He must be there by the first +of November. They are taking on new men then. We will sell the +place for whatever we can get, and auction the stock. We haven't +enough to ship. I am going to learn engraving with a German engraver +there, and then try to get work in Chicago." + +Alexandra's hands dropped in her lap. Her eyes became dreamy and +filled with tears. + +Carl's sensitive lower lip trembled. He scratched in the soft earth +beside him with a stick. "That's all I hate about it, Alexandra," +he said slowly. "You've stood by us through so much and helped +father out so many times, and now it seems as if we were running +off and leaving you to face the worst of it. But it isn't as if +we could really ever be of any help to you. We are only one more +drag, one more thing you look out for and feel responsible for. +Father was never meant for a farmer, you know that. And I hate +it. We'd only get in deeper and deeper." + +"Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting your life here. You are +able to do much better things. You are nearly nineteen now, and +I wouldn't have you stay. I've always hoped you would get away. +But I can't help feeling scared when I think how I will miss +you--more than you will ever know." She brushed the tears from her +cheeks, not trying to hide them. + +"But, Alexandra," he said sadly and wistfully, "I've never been +any real help to you, beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in +a good humor." + +Alexandra smiled and shook her head. "Oh, it's not that. Nothing +like that. It's by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, +that you've helped me. I expect that is the only way one person +ever really can help another. I think you are about the only one +that ever helped me. Somehow it will take more courage to bear +your going than everything that has happened before." + +Carl looked at the ground. "You see, we've all depended so on you," +he said, "even father. He makes me laugh. When anything comes up +he always says, 'I wonder what the Bergsons are going to do about +that? I guess I'll go and ask her.' I'll never forget that time, +when we first came here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran +over to your place--your father was away, and you came home with me +and showed father how to let the wind out of the horse. You were +only a little girl then, but you knew ever so much more about farm +work than poor father. You remember how homesick I used to get, +and what long talks we used to have coming from school? We've +someway always felt alike about things." + +"Yes, that's it; we've liked the same things and we've liked them +together, without anybody else knowing. And we've had good times, +hunting for Christmas trees and going for ducks and making our plum +wine together every year. We've never either of us had any other +close friend. And now--" Alexandra wiped her eyes with the corner +of her apron, "and now I must remember that you are going where +you will have many friends, and will find the work you were meant +to do. But you'll write to me, Carl? That will mean a great deal +to me here." + +"I'll write as long as I live," cried the boy impetuously. "And +I'll be working for you as much as for myself, Alexandra. I want +to do something you'll like and be proud of. I'm a fool here, but +I know I can do something!" He sat up and frowned at the red grass. + +Alexandra sighed. "How discouraged the boys will be when they +hear. They always come home from town discouraged, anyway. So +many people are trying to leave the country, and they talk to our +boys and make them low-spirited. I'm afraid they are beginning to +feel hard toward me because I won't listen to any talk about going. +Sometimes I feel like I'm getting tired of standing up for this +country." + +"I won't tell the boys yet, if you'd rather not." + +"Oh, I'll tell them myself, to-night, when they come home. They'll +be talking wild, anyway, and no good comes of keeping bad news. +It's all harder on them than it is on me. Lou wants to get married, +poor boy, and he can't until times are better. See, there goes the +sun, Carl. I must be getting back. Mother will want her potatoes. +It's chilly already, the moment the light goes." + +Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden afterglow throbbed in +the west, but the country already looked empty and mournful. A dark +moving mass came over the western hill, the Lee boy was bringing in +the herd from the other half-section. Emil ran from the windmill +to open the corral gate. From the log house, on the little rise +across the draw, the smoke was curling. The cattle lowed and +bellowed. In the sky the pale half-moon was slowly silvering. +Alexandra and Carl walked together down the potato rows. "I have +to keep telling myself what is going to happen," she said softly. +"Since you have been here, ten years now, I have never really been +lonely. But I can remember what it was like before. Now I shall +have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and he is tender-hearted." + +That night, when the boys were called to supper, they sat down +moodily. They had worn their coats to town, but they ate in their +striped shirts and suspenders. They were grown men now, and, as +Alexandra said, for the last few years they had been growing more +and more like themselves. Lou was still the slighter of the two, +the quicker and more intelligent, but apt to go off at half-cock. +He had a lively blue eye, a thin, fair skin (always burned red to +the neckband of his shirt in summer), stiff, yellow hair that would +not lie down on his head, and a bristly little yellow mustache, +of which he was very proud. Oscar could not grow a mustache; his +pale face was as bare as an egg, and his white eyebrows gave it an +empty look. He was a man of powerful body and unusual endurance; +the sort of man you could attach to a corn-sheller as you would +an engine. He would turn it all day, without hurrying, without +slowing down. But he was as indolent of mind as he was unsparing +of his body. His love of routine amounted to a vice. He worked +like an insect, always doing the same thing over in the same way, +regardless of whether it was best or no. He felt that there was +a sovereign virtue in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to +do things in the hardest way. If a field had once been in corn, +he couldn't bear to put it into wheat. He liked to begin his +corn-planting at the same time every year, whether the season were +backward or forward. He seemed to feel that by his own irreproachable +regularity he would clear himself of blame and reprove the weather. +When the wheat crop failed, he threshed the straw at a dead loss +to demonstrate how little grain there was, and thus prove his case +against Providence. + +Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and flighty; always planned to +get through two days' work in one, and often got only the least +important things done. He liked to keep the place up, but he never +got round to doing odd jobs until he had to neglect more pressing +work to attend to them. In the middle of the wheat harvest, when +the grain was over-ripe and every hand was needed, he would stop +to mend fences or to patch the harness; then dash down to the +field and overwork and be laid up in bed for a week. The two boys +balanced each other, and they pulled well together. They had been +good friends since they were children. One seldom went anywhere, +even to town, without the other. + +To-night, after they sat down to supper, Oscar kept looking at Lou +as if he expected him to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes +and frowned at his plate. It was Alexandra herself who at last +opened the discussion. + +"The Linstrums," she said calmly, as she put another plate of hot +biscuit on the table, "are going back to St. Louis. The old man +is going to work in the cigar factory again." + +At this Lou plunged in. "You see, Alexandra, everybody who can +crawl out is going away. There's no use of us trying to stick it +out, just to be stubborn. There's something in knowing when to +quit." + +"Where do you want to go, Lou?" + +"Any place where things will grow," said Oscar grimly. + +Lou reached for a potato. "Chris Arnson has traded his half-section +for a place down on the river." + +"Who did he trade with?" + +"Charley Fuller, in town." + +"Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, that Fuller has a head +on him. He's buying and trading for every bit of land he can get +up here. It'll make him a rich man, some day." + +"He's rich now, that's why he can take a chance." + +"Why can't we? We'll live longer than he will. Some day the land +itself will be worth more than all we can ever raise on it." + +Lou laughed. "It could be worth that, and still not be worth +much. Why, Alexandra, you don't know what you're talking about. +Our place wouldn't bring now what it would six years ago. The +fellows that settled up here just made a mistake. Now they're +beginning to see this high land wasn't never meant to grow nothing +on, and everybody who ain't fixed to graze cattle is trying to +crawl out. It's too high to farm up here. All the Americans are +skinning out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, told me that +he was going to let Fuller take his land and stuff for four hundred +dollars and a ticket to Chicago." + +"There's Fuller again!" Alexandra exclaimed. "I wish that man +would take me for a partner. He's feathering his nest! If only +poor people could learn a little from rich people! But all these +fellows who are running off are bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. +They couldn't get ahead even in good years, and they all got into +debt while father was getting out. I think we ought to hold on as +long as we can on father's account. He was so set on keeping this +land. He must have seen harder times than this, here. How was it +in the early days, mother?" + +Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These family discussions always +depressed her, and made her remember all that she had been torn +away from. "I don't see why the boys are always taking on about +going away," she said, wiping her eyes. "I don't want to move +again; out to some raw place, maybe, where we'd be worse off than +we are here, and all to do over again. I won't move! If the rest +of you go, I will ask some of the neighbors to take me in, and stay +and be buried by father. I'm not going to leave him by himself +on the prairie, for cattle to run over." She began to cry more +bitterly. + +The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a soothing hand on her mother's +shoulder. "There's no question of that, mother. You don't have +to go if you don't want to. A third of the place belongs to you +by American law, and we can't sell without your consent. We only +want you to advise us. How did it use to be when you and father +first came? Was it really as bad as this, or not?" + +"Oh, worse! Much worse," moaned Mrs. Bergson. "Drouth, chince-bugs, +hail, everything! My garden all cut to pieces like sauerkraut. No +grapes on the creek, no nothing. The people all lived just like +coyotes." + +Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. Lou followed him. +They felt that Alexandra had taken an unfair advantage in turning +their mother loose on them. The next morning they were silent and +reserved. They did not offer to take the women to church, but went +down to the barn immediately after breakfast and stayed there all +day. When Carl Linstrum came over in the afternoon, Alexandra +winked to him and pointed toward the barn. He understood her and +went down to play cards with the boys. They believed that a very +wicked thing to do on Sunday, and it relieved their feelings. + +Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Bergson +always took a nap, and Alexandra read. During the week she read +only the newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long evenings of +winter, she read a good deal; read a few things over a great many +times. She knew long portions of the "Frithjof Saga" by heart, +and, like most Swedes who read at all, she was fond of Longfellow's +verse,--the ballads and the "Golden Legend" and "The Spanish Student." +To-day she sat in the wooden rocking-chair with the Swedish Bible +open on her knees, but she was not reading. She was looking +thoughtfully away at the point where the upland road disappeared +over the rim of the prairie. Her body was in an attitude of perfect +repose, such as it was apt to take when she was thinking earnestly. +Her mind was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not the least +spark of cleverness. + +All afternoon the sitting-room was full of quiet and sunlight. +Emil was making rabbit traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were +clucking and scratching brown holes in the flower beds, and the +wind was teasing the prince's feather by the door. + +That evening Carl came in with the boys to supper. + +"Emil," said Alexandra, when they were all seated at the table, +"how would you like to go traveling? Because I am going to take +a trip, and you can go with me if you want to." + +The boys looked up in amazement; they were always afraid of +Alexandra's schemes. Carl was interested. + +"I've been thinking, boys," she went on, "that maybe I am too set +against making a change. I'm going to take Brigham and the buckboard +to-morrow and drive down to the river country and spend a few days +looking over what they've got down there. If I find anything good, +you boys can go down and make a trade." + +"Nobody down there will trade for anything up here," said Oscar +gloomily. + +"That's just what I want to find out. Maybe they are just as +discontented down there as we are up here. Things away from home +often look better than they are. You know what your Hans Andersen +book says, Carl, about the Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and +the Danes liking to buy Swedish bread, because people always think +the bread of another country is better than their own. Anyway, +I've heard so much about the river farms, I won't be satisfied till +I've seen for myself." + +Lou fidgeted. "Look out! Don't agree to anything. Don't let them +fool you." + +Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not yet learned to keep +away from the shell-game wagons that followed the circus. + +After supper Lou put on a necktie and went across the fields to +court Annie Lee, and Carl and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, +while Alexandra read "The Swiss Family Robinson" aloud to her mother +and Emil. It was not long before the two boys at the table neglected +their game to listen. They were all big children together, and they +found the adventures of the family in the tree house so absorbing +that they gave them their undivided attention. + + + + +V + +Alexandra and Emil spent five days down among the river farms, +driving up and down the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about +their crops and to the women about their poultry. She spent a +whole day with one young farmer who had been away at school, and +who was experimenting with a new kind of clover hay. She learned +a great deal. As they drove along, she and Emil talked and planned. +At last, on the sixth day, Alexandra turned Brigham's head northward +and left the river behind. + +"There's nothing in it for us down there, Emil. There are a few +fine farms, but they are owned by the rich men in town, and couldn't +be bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. They can always +scrape along down there, but they can never do anything big. Down +there they have a little certainty, but up with us there is a big +chance. We must have faith in the high land, Emil. I want to hold +on harder than ever, and when you're a man you'll thank me." She +urged Brigham forward. + +When the road began to climb the first long swells of the Divide, +Alexandra hummed an old Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his +sister looked so happy. Her face was so radiant that he felt shy +about asking her. For the first time, perhaps, since that land +emerged from the waters of geologic ages, a human face was set toward +it with love and yearning. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and +strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it, until +her tears blinded her. Then the Genius of the Divide, the great, +free spirit which breathes across it, must have bent lower than +it ever bent to a human will before. The history of every country +begins in the heart of a man or a woman. + +Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. That evening she held +a family council and told her brothers all that she had seen and +heard. + +"I want you boys to go down yourselves and look it over. Nothing +will convince you like seeing with your own eyes. The river land +was settled before this, and so they are a few years ahead of us, +and have learned more about farming. The land sells for three +times as much as this, but in five years we will double it. The +rich men down there own all the best land, and they are buying +all they can get. The thing to do is to sell our cattle and what +little old corn we have, and buy the Linstrum place. Then the next +thing to do is to take out two loans on our half-sections, and buy +Peter Crow's place; raise every dollar we can, and buy every acre +we can." + +"Mortgage the homestead again?" Lou cried. He sprang up and began +to wind the clock furiously. "I won't slave to pay off another +mortgage. I'll never do it. You'd just as soon kill us all, +Alexandra, to carry out some scheme!" + +Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. "How do you propose to pay +off your mortgages?" + +Alexandra looked from one to the other and bit her lip. They had +never seen her so nervous. "See here," she brought out at last. +"We borrow the money for six years. Well, with the money we buy +a half-section from Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter +from Struble, maybe. That will give us upwards of fourteen hundred +acres, won't it? You won't have to pay off your mortgages for six +years. By that time, any of this land will be worth thirty dollars +an acre--it will be worth fifty, but we'll say thirty; then you +can sell a garden patch anywhere, and pay off a debt of sixteen +hundred dollars. It's not the principal I'm worried about, it's +the interest and taxes. We'll have to strain to meet the payments. +But as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can sit down here +ten years from now independent landowners, not struggling farmers +any longer. The chance that father was always looking for has +come." + +Lou was pacing the floor. "But how do you KNOW that land is going +to go up enough to pay the mortgages and--" + +"And make us rich besides?" Alexandra put in firmly. "I can't +explain that, Lou. You'll have to take my word for it. I KNOW, +that's all. When you drive about over the country you can feel it +coming." + +Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, his hands hanging +between his knees. "But we can't work so much land," he said +dully, as if he were talking to himself. "We can't even try. It +would just lie there and we'd work ourselves to death." He sighed, +and laid his calloused fist on the table. + +Alexandra's eyes filled with tears. She put her hand on his +shoulder. "You poor boy, you won't have to work it. The men in +town who are buying up other people's land don't try to farm it. +They are the men to watch, in a new country. Let's try to do +like the shrewd ones, and not like these stupid fellows. I don't +want you boys always to have to work like this. I want you to be +independent, and Emil to go to school." + +Lou held his head as if it were splitting. "Everybody will say we +are crazy. It must be crazy, or everybody would be doing it." + +"If they were, we wouldn't have much chance. No, Lou, I was talking +about that with the smart young man who is raising the new kind +of clover. He says the right thing is usually just what everybody +don't do. Why are we better fixed than any of our neighbors? Because +father had more brains. Our people were better people than these +in the old country. We OUGHT to do more than they do, and see +further ahead. Yes, mother, I'm going to clear the table now." + +Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable to see to the stock, +and they were gone a long while. When they came back Lou played on +his DRAGHARMONIKA and Oscar sat figuring at his father's secretary +all evening. They said nothing more about Alexandra's project, +but she felt sure now that they would consent to it. Just before +bedtime Oscar went out for a pail of water. When he did not come +back, Alexandra threw a shawl over her head and ran down the path +to the windmill. She found him sitting there with his head in his +hands, and she sat down beside him. + +"Don't do anything you don't want to do, Oscar," she whispered. +She waited a moment, but he did not stir. "I won't say any more +about it, if you'd rather not. What makes you so discouraged?" + +"I dread signing my name to them pieces of paper," he said slowly. +"All the time I was a boy we had a mortgage hanging over us." + +"Then don't sign one. I don't want you to, if you feel that way." + +Oscar shook his head. "No, I can see there's a chance that way. +I've thought a good while there might be. We're in so deep now, we +might as well go deeper. But it's hard work pulling out of debt. +Like pulling a threshing-machine out of the mud; breaks your back. +Me and Lou's worked hard, and I can't see it's got us ahead much." + +"Nobody knows about that as well as I do, Oscar. That's why I want +to try an easier way. I don't want you to have to grub for every +dollar." + +"Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it'll come out right. But signing +papers is signing papers. There ain't no maybe about that." He +took his pail and trudged up the path to the house. + +Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against +the frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so +keenly through the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch +them, to think of their vastness and distance, and of their ordered +march. It fortified her to reflect upon the great operations +of nature, and when she thought of the law that lay behind them, +she felt a sense of personal security. That night she had a new +consciousness of the country, felt almost a new relation to it. +Even her talk with the boys had not taken away the feeling that had +overwhelmed her when she drove back to the Divide that afternoon. +She had never known before how much the country meant to her. The +chirping of the insects down in the long grass had been like the +sweetest music. She had felt as if her heart were hiding down +there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and all the little +wild things that crooned or buzzed in the sun. Under the long +shaggy ridges, she felt the future stirring. + + + + +PART II. Neighboring Fields + + + + +I + +IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. His wife now lies +beside him, and the white shaft that marks their graves gleams +across the wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, he would +not know the country under which he has been asleep. The shaggy coat +of the prairie, which they lifted to make him a bed, has vanished +forever. From the Norwegian graveyard one looks out over a vast +checker-board, marked off in squares of wheat and corn; light and +dark, dark and light. Telephone wires hum along the white roads, +which always run at right angles. From the graveyard gate one can +count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the gilded weather-vanes +on the big red barns wink at each other across the green and brown +and yellow fields. The light steel windmills tremble throughout +their frames and tug at their moorings, as they vibrate in the wind +that often blows from one week's end to another across that high, +active, resolute stretch of country. + +The Divide is now thickly populated. The rich soil yields heavy +harvests; the dry, bracing climate and the smoothness of the land +make labor easy for men and beasts. There are few scenes more +gratifying than a spring plowing in that country, where the furrows +of a single field often lie a mile in length, and the brown earth, +with such a strong, clean smell, and such a power of growth and +fertility in it, yields itself eagerly to the plow; rolls away +from the shear, not even dimming the brightness of the metal, with +a soft, deep sigh of happiness. The wheat-cutting sometimes goes +on all night as well as all day, and in good seasons there are +scarcely men and horses enough to do the harvesting. The grain is +so heavy that it bends toward the blade and cuts like velvet. + +There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face +of the country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the +season, holding nothing back. Like the plains of Lombardy, it +seems to rise a little to meet the sun. The air and the earth are +curiously mated and intermingled, as if the one were the breath +of the other. You feel in the atmosphere the same tonic, puissant +quality that is in the tilth, the same strength and resoluteness. + +One June morning a young man stood at the gate of the Norwegian +graveyard, sharpening his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to +the tune he was whistling. He wore a flannel cap and duck trousers, +and the sleeves of his white flannel shirt were rolled back to +the elbow. When he was satisfied with the edge of his blade, he +slipped the whetstone into his hip pocket and began to swing his +scythe, still whistling, but softly, out of respect to the quiet +folk about him. Unconscious respect, probably, for he seemed +intent upon his own thoughts, and, like the Gladiator's, they were +far away. He was a splendid figure of a boy, tall and straight +as a young pine tree, with a handsome head, and stormy gray eyes, +deeply set under a serious brow. The space between his two front +teeth, which were unusually far apart, gave him the proficiency +in whistling for which he was distinguished at college. (He also +played the cornet in the University band.) + +When the grass required his close attention, or when he had to +stoop to cut about a head-stone, he paused in his lively air,--the +"Jewel" song,--taking it up where he had left it when his scythe +swung free again. He was not thinking about the tired pioneers +over whom his blade glittered. The old wild country, the struggle +in which his sister was destined to succeed while so many men broke +their hearts and died, he can scarcely remember. That is all among +the dim things of childhood and has been forgotten in the brighter +pattern life weaves to-day, in the bright facts of being captain +of the track team, and holding the interstate record for the high +jump, in the all-suffusing brightness of being twenty-one. Yet +sometimes, in the pauses of his work, the young man frowned and +looked at the ground with an intentness which suggested that even +twenty-one might have its problems. + +When he had been mowing the better part of an hour, he heard the +rattle of a light cart on the road behind him. Supposing that it +was his sister coming back from one of her farms, he kept on with +his work. The cart stopped at the gate and a merry contralto voice +called, "Almost through, Emil?" He dropped his scythe and went +toward the fence, wiping his face and neck with his handkerchief. +In the cart sat a young woman who wore driving gauntlets and a wide +shade hat, trimmed with red poppies. Her face, too, was rather +like a poppy, round and brown, with rich color in her cheeks and +lips, and her dancing yellow-brown eyes bubbled with gayety. The +wind was flapping her big hat and teasing a curl of her chestnut-colored +hair. She shook her head at the tall youth. + +"What time did you get over here? That's not much of a job for +an athlete. Here I've been to town and back. Alexandra lets you +sleep late. Oh, I know! Lou's wife was telling me about the way +she spoils you. I was going to give you a lift, if you were done." +She gathered up her reins. + +"But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for me, Marie," Emil +coaxed. "Alexandra sent me to mow our lot, but I've done half a +dozen others, you see. Just wait till I finish off the Kourdnas'. +By the way, they were Bohemians. Why aren't they up in the Catholic +graveyard?" + +"Free-thinkers," replied the young woman laconically. + +"Lots of the Bohemian boys at the University are," said Emil, taking +up his scythe again. "What did you ever burn John Huss for, anyway? +It's made an awful row. They still jaw about it in history classes." + +"We'd do it right over again, most of us," said the young woman +hotly. "Don't they ever teach you in your history classes that +you'd all be heathen Turks if it hadn't been for the Bohemians?" + +Emil had fallen to mowing. "Oh, there's no denying you're a spunky +little bunch, you Czechs," he called back over his shoulder. + +Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat and watched the rhythmical +movement of the young man's long arms, swinging her foot as if +in time to some air that was going through her mind. The minutes +passed. Emil mowed vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and +watching the long grass fall. She sat with the ease that belongs +to persons of an essentially happy nature, who can find a comfortable +spot almost anywhere; who are supple, and quick in adapting themselves +to circumstances. After a final swish, Emil snapped the gate and +sprang into the cart, holding his scythe well out over the wheel. +"There," he sighed. "I gave old man Lee a cut or so, too. Lou's +wife needn't talk. I never see Lou's scythe over here." + +Marie clucked to her horse. "Oh, you know Annie!" She looked at +the young man's bare arms. "How brown you've got since you came +home. I wish I had an athlete to mow my orchard. I get wet to my +knees when I go down to pick cherries." + +"You can have one, any time you want him. Better wait until after +it rains." Emil squinted off at the horizon as if he were looking +for clouds. + +"Will you? Oh, there's a good boy!" She turned her head to him +with a quick, bright smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, +he had looked away with the purpose of not seeing it. "I've been +up looking at Angelique's wedding clothes," Marie went on, "and +I'm so excited I can hardly wait until Sunday. Amedee will be +a handsome bridegroom. Is anybody but you going to stand up with +him? Well, then it will be a handsome wedding party." She made a +droll face at Emil, who flushed. "Frank," Marie continued, flicking +her horse, "is cranky at me because I loaned his saddle to Jan +Smirka, and I'm terribly afraid he won't take me to the dance in +the evening. Maybe the supper will tempt him. All Angelique's +folks are baking for it, and all Amedee's twenty cousins. There +will be barrels of beer. If once I get Frank to the supper, I'll +see that I stay for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you mustn't +dance with me but once or twice. You must dance with all the French +girls. It hurts their feelings if you don't. They think you're +proud because you've been away to school or something." + +Emil sniffed. "How do you know they think that?" + +"Well, you didn't dance with them much at Raoul Marcel's party, and +I could tell how they took it by the way they looked at you--and +at me." + +"All right," said Emil shortly, studying the glittering blade of +his scythe. + +They drove westward toward Norway Creek, and toward a big white +house that stood on a hill, several miles across the fields. There +were so many sheds and outbuildings grouped about it that the +place looked not unlike a tiny village. A stranger, approaching +it, could not help noticing the beauty and fruitfulness of the +outlying fields. There was something individual about the great +farm, a most unusual trimness and care for detail. On either side +of the road, for a mile before you reached the foot of the hill, +stood tall osage orange hedges, their glossy green marking off +the yellow fields. South of the hill, in a low, sheltered swale, +surrounded by a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, its fruit trees +knee-deep in timothy grass. Any one thereabouts would have told +you that this was one of the richest farms on the Divide, and that +the farmer was a woman, Alexandra Bergson. + +If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra's big house, you will +find that it is curiously unfinished and uneven in comfort. One +room is papered, carpeted, over-furnished; the next is almost +bare. The pleasantest rooms in the house are the kitchen--where +Alexandra's three young Swedish girls chatter and cook and pickle +and preserve all summer long--and the sitting-room, in which +Alexandra has brought together the old homely furniture that the +Bergsons used in their first log house, the family portraits, and +the few things her mother brought from Sweden. + +When you go out of the house into the flower garden, there you feel +again the order and fine arrangement manifest all over the great +farm; in the fencing and hedging, in the windbreaks and sheds, in +the symmetrical pasture ponds, planted with scrub willows to give +shade to the cattle in fly-time. There is even a white row of +beehives in the orchard, under the walnut trees. You feel that, +properly, Alexandra's house is the big out-of-doors, and that it +is in the soil that she expresses herself best. + + + + +II + +Emil reached home a little past noon, and when he went into the +kitchen Alexandra was already seated at the head of the long table, +having dinner with her men, as she always did unless there were +visitors. He slipped into his empty place at his sister's right. +The three pretty young Swedish girls who did Alexandra's housework +were cutting pies, refilling coffeecups, placing platters of bread +and meat and potatoes upon the red tablecloth, and continually +getting in each other's way between the table and the stove. To be +sure they always wasted a good deal of time getting in each other's +way and giggling at each other's mistakes. But, as Alexandra had +pointedly told her sisters-in-law, it was to hear them giggle that +she kept three young things in her kitchen; the work she could +do herself, if it were necessary. These girls, with their long +letters from home, their finery, and their love-affairs, afforded +her a great deal of entertainment, and they were company for her +when Emil was away at school. + +Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty figure, mottled pink +cheeks, and yellow hair, Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps +a sharp eye upon her. Signa is apt to be skittish at mealtime, when +the men are about, and to spill the coffee or upset the cream. It +is supposed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six men at the dinner-table, +is courting Signa, though he has been so careful not to commit +himself that no one in the house, least of all Signa, can tell +just how far the matter has progressed. Nelse watches her glumly +as she waits upon the table, and in the evening he sits on a bench +behind the stove with his DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful airs +and watching her as she goes about her work. When Alexandra asked +Signa whether she thought Nelse was in earnest, the poor child hid +her hands under her apron and murmured, "I don't know, ma'm. But +he scolds me about everything, like as if he wanted to have me!" + +At Alexandra's left sat a very old man, barefoot and wearing a long +blue blouse, open at the neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter +than it was sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes have become +pale and watery, and his ruddy face is withered, like an apple that +has clung all winter to the tree. When Ivar lost his land through +mismanagement a dozen years ago, Alexandra took him in, and he has +been a member of her household ever since. He is too old to work +in the fields, but he hitches and unhitches the work-teams and +looks after the health of the stock. Sometimes of a winter evening +Alexandra calls him into the sitting-room to read the Bible aloud +to her, for he still reads very well. He dislikes human habitations, +so Alexandra has fitted him up a room in the barn, where he is very +comfortable, being near the horses and, as he says, further from +temptations. No one has ever found out what his temptations are. +In cold weather he sits by the kitchen fire and makes hammocks +or mends harness until it is time to go to bed. Then he says his +prayers at great length behind the stove, puts on his buffalo-skin +coat and goes out to his room in the barn. + +Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller, +and she has more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous than +she did as a young girl. But she still has the same calmness and +deliberation of manner, the same clear eyes, and she still wears +her hair in two braids wound round her head. It is so curly that +fiery ends escape from the braids and make her head look like one +of the big double sunflowers that fringe her vegetable garden. +Her face is always tanned in summer, for her sunbonnet is oftener +on her arm than on her head. But where her collar falls away from +her neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back from her wrist, the +skin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none but Swedish women +ever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow itself. + +Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged her +men to talk, and she always listened attentively, even when they +seemed to be talking foolishly. + +To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed Irishman who had been with +Alexandra for five years and who was actually her foreman, though +he had no such title, was grumbling about the new silo she had put +up that spring. It happened to be the first silo on the Divide, +and Alexandra's neighbors and her men were skeptical about it. "To +be sure, if the thing don't work, we'll have plenty of feed without +it, indeed," Barney conceded. + +Nelse Jensen, Signa's gloomy suitor, had his word. "Lou, he says +he wouldn't have no silo on his place if you'd give it to him. +He says the feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard of +somebody lost four head of horses, feedin' 'em that stuff." + +Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. "Well, +the only way we can find out is to try. Lou and I have different +notions about feeding stock, and that's a good thing. It's bad if +all the members of a family think alike. They never get anywhere. +Lou can learn by my mistakes and I can learn by his. Isn't that +fair, Barney?" + +The Irishman laughed. He had no love for Lou, who was always uppish +with him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. "I've +no thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. 'T would be +only right, after puttin' so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will +come out an' have a look at it wid me." He pushed back his chair, +took his hat from the nail, and marched out with Emil, who, with +his university ideas, was supposed to have instigated the silo. +The other hands followed them, all except old Ivar. He had been +depressed throughout the meal and had paid no heed to the talk of +the men, even when they mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which he +was sure to have opinions. + +"Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?" Alexandra asked as she rose +from the table. "Come into the sitting-room." + +The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair +he shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him +to speak. He stood looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed, +his hands clasped in front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed to +have grown shorter with years, and they were completely misfitted +to his broad, thick body and heavy shoulders. + +"Well, Ivar, what is it?" Alexandra asked after she had waited +longer than usual. + +Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaint +and grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He +always addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hoping +to set a good example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too +familiar in their manners. + +"Mistress," he began faintly, without raising his eyes, "the folk +have been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been +talk." + +"Talk about what, Ivar?" + +"About sending me away; to the asylum." + +Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. "Nobody has come to me with +such talk," she said decidedly. "Why need you listen? You know +I would never consent to such a thing." + +Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little +eyes. "They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain of +me, if your brothers complain to the authorities. They say that +your brothers are afraid--God forbid!--that I may do you some +injury when my spells are on me. Mistress, how can any one think +that?--that I could bite the hand that fed me!" The tears trickled +down on the old man's beard. + +Alexandra frowned. "Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should come +bothering me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, +and other people have nothing to do with either you or me. So long +as I am suited with you, there is nothing to be said." + +Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse and +wiped his eyes and beard. "But I should not wish you to keep me +if, as they say, it is against your interests, and if it is hard +for you to get hands because I am here." + +Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his +hand and went on earnestly:-- + +"Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things +into account. You know that my spells come from God, and that +I would not harm any living creature. You believe that every one +should worship God in the way revealed to him. But that is not +the way of this country. The way here is for all to do alike. I +am despised because I do not wear shoes, because I do not cut my +hair, and because I have visions. At home, in the old country, +there were many like me, who had been touched by God, or who had +seen things in the graveyard at night and were different afterward. +We thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But here, if a man +is different in his feet or in his head, they put him in the asylum. +Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out of a creek, +he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could eat only +such food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything else, it +became enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about in +him, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. +He could work as good as any man, and his head was clear, but they +locked him up for being different in his stomach. That is the way; +they have built the asylum for people who are different, and they +will not even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Only +your great prosperity has protected me so far. If you had had +ill-fortune, they would have taken me to Hastings long ago." + +As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she +could often break his fasts and long penances by talking to him +and letting him pour out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy +always cleared his mind, and ridicule was poison to him. + +"There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not they +will be wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; +and then I may take you with me. But at present I need you here. +Only don't come to me again telling me what people say. Let people +go on talking as they like, and we will go on living as we think +best. You have been with me now for twelve years, and I have gone +to you for advice oftener than I have ever gone to any one. That +ought to satisfy you." + +Ivar bowed humbly. "Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with +their talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes +all these years, though you have never questioned me; washing them +every night, even in winter." + +Alexandra laughed. "Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We can +remember when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expect +old Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if +she dared. I'm glad I'm not Lou's mother-in-law." + +Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to a +whisper. "You know what they have over at Lou's house? A great +white tub, like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash +themselves in. When you sent me over with the strawberries, they +were all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. She took me +in and showed me the thing, and she told me it was impossible to +wash yourself clean in it, because, in so much water, you could +not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up and send her in +there, she pretends, and makes a splashing noise. Then, when they +are all asleep, she washes herself in a little wooden tub she keeps +under her bed." + +Alexandra shook with laughter. "Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won't let +her wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit +me, she can do all the old things in the old way, and have as much +beer as she wants. We'll start an asylum for old-time people, +Ivar." + +Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into +his blouse. "This is always the way, mistress. I come to you +sorrowing, and you send me away with a light heart. And will you +be so good as to tell the Irishman that he is not to work the brown +gelding until the sore on its shoulder is healed?" + +"That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare to the cart. I am going +to drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is +to buy my alfalfa hay." + + + + +III + +Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar's case, however. On Sunday her +married brothers came to dinner. She had asked them for that day +because Emil, who hated family parties, would be absent, dancing +at Amedee Chevalier's wedding, up in the French country. The table +was set for company in the dining-room, where highly varnished +wood and colored glass and useless pieces of china were conspicuous +enough to satisfy the standards of the new prosperity. Alexandra +had put herself into the hands of the Hanover furniture dealer, and +he had conscientiously done his best to make her dining-room look +like his display window. She said frankly that she knew nothing +about such things, and she was willing to be governed by the general +conviction that the more useless and utterly unusable objects +were, the greater their virtue as ornament. That seemed reasonable +enough. Since she liked plain things herself, it was all the more +necessary to have jars and punchbowls and candlesticks in the company +rooms for people who did appreciate them. Her guests liked to see +about them these reassuring emblems of prosperity. + +The family party was complete except for Emil, and Oscar's wife +who, in the country phrase, "was not going anywhere just now." +Oscar sat at the foot of the table and his four tow-headed little +boys, aged from twelve to five, were ranged at one side. Neither +Oscar nor Lou has changed much; they have simply, as Alexandra said +of them long ago, grown to be more and more like themselves. Lou +now looks the older of the two; his face is thin and shrewd and +wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar's is thick and dull. For all +his dullness, however, Oscar makes more money than his brother, +which adds to Lou's sharpness and uneasiness and tempts him to +make a show. The trouble with Lou is that he is tricky, and his +neighbors have found out that, as Ivar says, he has not a fox's face +for nothing. Politics being the natural field for such talents, +he neglects his farm to attend conventions and to run for county +offices. + +Lou's wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to look curiously like +her husband. Her face has become longer, sharper, more aggressive. +She wears her yellow hair in a high pompadour, and is bedecked with +rings and chains and "beauty pins." Her tight, high-heeled shoes +give her an awkward walk, and she is always more or less preoccupied +with her clothes. As she sat at the table, she kept telling her +youngest daughter to "be careful now, and not drop anything on +mother." + +The conversation at the table was all in English. Oscar's wife, +from the malaria district of Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a +foreigner, and his boys do not understand a word of Swedish. Annie +and Lou sometimes speak Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as +much afraid of being "caught" at it as ever her mother was of being +caught barefoot. Oscar still has a thick accent, but Lou speaks +like anybody from Iowa. + +"When I was in Hastings to attend the convention," he was saying, +"I saw the superintendent of the asylum, and I was telling him about +Ivar's symptoms. He says Ivar's case is one of the most dangerous +kind, and it's a wonder he hasn't done something violent before +this." + +Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. "Oh, nonsense, Lou! The doctors +would have us all crazy if they could. Ivar's queer, certainly, +but he has more sense than half the hands I hire." + +Lou flew at his fried chicken. "Oh, I guess the doctor knows his +business, Alexandra. He was very much surprised when I told him +how you'd put up with Ivar. He says he's likely to set fire to the +barn any night, or to take after you and the girls with an axe." + +Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, giggled and fled to +the kitchen. Alexandra's eyes twinkled. "That was too much for +Signa, Lou. We all know that Ivar's perfectly harmless. The girls +would as soon expect me to chase them with an axe." + +Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. "All the same, the neighbors +will be having a say about it before long. He may burn anybody's +barn. It's only necessary for one property-owner in the township +to make complaint, and he'll be taken up by force. You'd better +send him yourself and not have any hard feelings." + +Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to gravy. "Well, Lou, +if any of the neighbors try that, I'll have myself appointed Ivar's +guardian and take the case to court, that's all. I am perfectly +satisfied with him." + +"Pass the preserves, Lou," said Annie in a warning tone. She had +reasons for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. +"But don't you sort of hate to have people see him around here, +Alexandra?" she went on with persuasive smoothness. "He IS a +disgraceful object, and you're fixed up so nice now. It sort of +makes people distant with you, when they never know when they'll +hear him scratching about. My girls are afraid as death of him, +aren't you, Milly, dear?" + +Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompadoured, with a creamy +complexion, square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She +looked like her grandmother Bergson, and had her comfortable and +comfort-loving nature. She grinned at her aunt, with whom she was +a great deal more at ease than she was with her mother. Alexandra +winked a reply. + +"Milly needn't be afraid of Ivar. She's an especial favorite of +his. In my opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of +dressing and thinking as we have. But I'll see that he doesn't +bother other people. I'll keep him at home, so don't trouble any +more about him, Lou. I've been wanting to ask you about your new +bathtub. How does it work?" + +Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. "Oh, +it works something grand! I can't keep him out of it. He washes +himself all over three times a week now, and uses all the hot water. +I think it's weakening to stay in as long as he does. You ought +to have one, Alexandra." + +"I'm thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar, +if it will ease people's minds. But before I get a bathtub, I'm +going to get a piano for Milly." + +Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. "What +does Milly want of a pianny? What's the matter with her organ? +She can make some use of that, and play in church." + +Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say +anything about this plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous +of what his sister did for Lou's children. Alexandra did not get +on with Oscar's wife at all. "Milly can play in church just the +same, and she'll still play on the organ. But practising on it +so much spoils her touch. Her teacher says so," Annie brought out +with spirit. + +Oscar rolled his eyes. "Well, Milly must have got on pretty good +if she's got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that +ain't," he said bluntly. + +Annie threw up her chin. "She has got on good, and she's going to +play for her commencement when she graduates in town next year." + +"Yes," said Alexandra firmly, "I think Milly deserves a piano. +All the girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but +Milly is the only one of them who can ever play anything when you +ask her. I'll tell you when I first thought I would like to give +you a piano, Milly, and that was when you learned that book of old +Swedish songs that your grandfather used to sing. He had a sweet +tenor voice, and when he was a young man he loved to sing. I can +remember hearing him singing with the sailors down in the shipyard, +when I was no bigger than Stella here," pointing to Annie's younger +daughter. + +Milly and Stella both looked through the door into the sitting-room, +where a crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra +had had it made from a little photograph, taken for his friends +just before he left Sweden; a slender man of thirty-five, with +soft hair curling about his high forehead, a drooping mustache, +and wondering, sad eyes that looked forward into the distance, as +if they already beheld the New World. + +After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the orchard to pick cherries--they +had neither of them had the patience to grow an orchard of their +own--and Annie went down to gossip with Alexandra's kitchen girls +while they washed the dishes. She could always find out more about +Alexandra's domestic economy from the prattling maids than from +Alexandra herself, and what she discovered she used to her own +advantage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers' daughters no longer +went out into service, so Alexandra got her girls from Sweden, by +paying their fare over. They stayed with her until they married, +and were replaced by sisters or cousins from the old country. + +Alexandra took her three nieces into the flower garden. She was +fond of the little girls, especially of Milly, who came to spend +a week with her aunt now and then, and read aloud to her from the +old books about the house, or listened to stories about the early +days on the Divide. While they were walking among the flower beds, +a buggy drove up the hill and stopped in front of the gate. A man +got out and stood talking to the driver. The little girls were +delighted at the advent of a stranger, some one from very far away, +they knew by his clothes, his gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut +of his dark beard. The girls fell behind their aunt and peeped out +at him from among the castor beans. The stranger came up to the +gate and stood holding his hat in his hand, smiling, while Alexandra +advanced slowly to meet him. As she approached he spoke in a low, +pleasant voice. + +"Don't you know me, Alexandra? I would have known you, anywhere." + +Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. Suddenly she took a quick +step forward. "Can it be!" she exclaimed with feeling; "can it be +that it is Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!" She threw out both +her hands and caught his across the gate. "Sadie, Milly, run tell +your father and Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl Linstrum is +here. Be quick! Why, Carl, how did it happen? I can't believe +this!" Alexandra shook the tears from her eyes and laughed. + +The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped his suitcase inside +the fence, and opened the gate. "Then you are glad to see me, and +you can put me up overnight? I couldn't go through this country +without stopping off to have a look at you. How little you have +changed! Do you know, I was sure it would be like that. You +simply couldn't be different. How fine you are!" He stepped back +and looked at her admiringly. + +Alexandra blushed and laughed again. "But you yourself, Carl--with +that beard--how could I have known you? You went away a little +boy." She reached for his suitcase and when he intercepted her +she threw up her hands. "You see, I give myself away. I have only +women come to visit me, and I do not know how to behave. Where is +your trunk?" + +"It's in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. I am on my way to +the coast." + +They started up the path. "A few days? After all these years!" +Alexandra shook her finger at him. "See this, you have walked +into a trap. You do not get away so easy." She put her hand +affectionately on his shoulder. "You owe me a visit for the sake +of old times. Why must you go to the coast at all?" + +"Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From Seattle I go on to +Alaska." + +"Alaska?" She looked at him in astonishment. "Are you going to +paint the Indians?" + +"Paint?" the young man frowned. "Oh! I'm not a painter, Alexandra. +I'm an engraver. I have nothing to do with painting." + +"But on my parlor wall I have the paintings--" + +He interrupted nervously. "Oh, water-color sketches--done for +amusement. I sent them to remind you of me, not because they were +good. What a wonderful place you have made of this, Alexandra." +He turned and looked back at the wide, map-like prospect of field +and hedge and pasture. "I would never have believed it could be +done. I'm disappointed in my own eye, in my imagination." + +At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the hill from the orchard. +They did not quicken their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they +did not openly look in his direction. They advanced distrustfully, +and as if they wished the distance were longer. + +Alexandra beckoned to them. "They think I am trying to fool them. +Come, boys, it's Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!" + +Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance and thrust out his +hand. "Glad to see you." + +Oscar followed with "How d' do." Carl could not tell whether their +offishness came from unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and +Alexandra led the way to the porch. + +"Carl," Alexandra explained, "is on his way to Seattle. He is +going to Alaska." + +Oscar studied the visitor's yellow shoes. "Got business there?" +he asked. + +Carl laughed. "Yes, very pressing business. I'm going there to +get rich. Engraving's a very interesting profession, but a man +never makes any money at it. So I'm going to try the goldfields." + +Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, and Lou looked up +with some interest. "Ever done anything in that line before?" + +"No, but I'm going to join a friend of mine who went out from New +York and has done well. He has offered to break me in." + +"Turrible cold winters, there, I hear," remarked Oscar. "I thought +people went up there in the spring." + +"They do. But my friend is going to spend the winter in Seattle and +I am to stay with him there and learn something about prospecting +before we start north next year." + +Lou looked skeptical. "Let's see, how long have you been away from +here?" + +"Sixteen years. You ought to remember that, Lou, for you were +married just after we went away." + +"Going to stay with us some time?" Oscar asked. + +"A few days, if Alexandra can keep me." + +"I expect you'll be wanting to see your old place," Lou observed +more cordially. "You won't hardly know it. But there's a few +chunks of your old sod house left. Alexandra wouldn't never let +Frank Shabata plough over it." + +Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was announced, had been +touching up her hair and settling her lace and wishing she had worn +another dress, now emerged with her three daughters and introduced +them. She was greatly impressed by Carl's urban appearance, and +in her excitement talked very loud and threw her head about. "And +you ain't married yet? At your age, now! Think of that! You'll +have to wait for Milly. Yes, we've got a boy, too. The youngest. +He's at home with his grandma. You must come over to see mother +and hear Milly play. She's the musician of the family. She does +pyrography, too. That's burnt wood, you know. You wouldn't believe +what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes to school in town, +and she is the youngest in her class by two years." + +Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took her hand again. He liked +her creamy skin and happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her +mother's way of talking distressed her. "I'm sure she's a clever +little girl," he murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. "Let me +see--Ah, it's your mother that she looks like, Alexandra. Mrs. +Bergson must have looked just like this when she was a little +girl. Does Milly run about over the country as you and Alexandra +used to, Annie?" + +Milly's mother protested. "Oh, my, no! Things has changed since +we was girls. Milly has it very different. We are going to rent +the place and move into town as soon as the girls are old enough +to go out into company. A good many are doing that here now. Lou +is going into business." + +Lou grinned. "That's what she says. You better go get your things +on. Ivar's hitching up," he added, turning to Annie. + +Young farmers seldom address their wives by name. It is always +"you," or "she." + +Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat down on the step and +began to whittle. "Well, what do folks in New York think of William +Jennings Bryan?" Lou began to bluster, as he always did when he +talked politics. "We gave Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all +right, and we're fixing another to hand them. Silver wasn't the +only issue," he nodded mysteriously. "There's a good many things +got to be changed. The West is going to make itself heard." + +Carl laughed. "But, surely, it did do that, if nothing else." + +Lou's thin face reddened up to the roots of his bristly hair. "Oh, +we've only begun. We're waking up to a sense of our responsibilities, +out here, and we ain't afraid, neither. You fellows back there +must be a tame lot. If you had any nerve you'd get together and +march down to Wall Street and blow it up. Dynamite it, I mean," +with a threatening nod. + +He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely knew how to answer +him. "That would be a waste of powder. The same business would +go on in another street. The street doesn't matter. But what have +you fellows out here got to kick about? You have the only safe +place there is. Morgan himself couldn't touch you. One only has +to drive through this country to see that you're all as rich as +barons." + +"We have a good deal more to say than we had when we were poor," +said Lou threateningly. "We're getting on to a whole lot of things." + +As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the gate, Annie came out in +a hat that looked like the model of a battleship. Carl rose and +took her down to the carriage, while Lou lingered for a word with +his sister. + +"What do you suppose he's come for?" he asked, jerking his head +toward the gate. + +"Why, to pay us a visit. I've been begging him to for years." + +Oscar looked at Alexandra. "He didn't let you know he was coming?" + +"No. Why should he? I told him to come at any time." + +Lou shrugged his shoulders. "He doesn't seem to have done much +for himself. Wandering around this way!" + +Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of a cavern. "He never +was much account." + +Alexandra left them and hurried down to the gate where Annie was +rattling on to Carl about her new dining-room furniture. "You +must bring Mr. Linstrum over real soon, only be sure to telephone +me first," she called back, as Carl helped her into the carriage. +Old Ivar, his white head bare, stood holding the horses. Lou came +down the path and climbed into the front seat, took up the reins, +and drove off without saying anything further to any one. Oscar +picked up his youngest boy and trudged off down the road, the other +three trotting after him. Carl, holding the gate open for Alexandra, +began to laugh. "Up and coming on the Divide, eh, Alexandra?" he +cried gayly. + + + + +IV + +Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less than one might have +expected. He had not become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There +was still something homely and wayward and definitely personal +about him. Even his clothes, his Norfolk coat and his very high +collars, were a little unconventional. He seemed to shrink into +himself as he used to do; to hold himself away from things, as if +he were afraid of being hurt. In short, he was more self-conscious +than a man of thirty-five is expected to be. He looked older than +his years and not very strong. His black hair, which still hung +in a triangle over his pale forehead, was thin at the crown, and +there were fine, relentless lines about his eyes. His back, with +its high, sharp shoulders, looked like the back of an over-worked +German professor off on his holiday. His face was intelligent, +sensitive, unhappy. + +That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the +clump of castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The +gravel paths glittered in the moonlight, and below them the fields +lay white and still. + +"Do you know, Alexandra," he was saying, "I've been thinking how +strangely things work out. I've been away engraving other men's +pictures, and you've stayed at home and made your own." He pointed +with his cigar toward the sleeping landscape. "How in the world +have you done it? How have your neighbors done it?" + +"We hadn't any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. +It had its little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody +knew how to work it right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. +It woke up out of its sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, +so rich, that we suddenly found we were rich, just from sitting +still. As for me, you remember when I began to buy land. For +years after that I was always squeezing and borrowing until I was +ashamed to show my face in the banks. And then, all at once, men +began to come to me offering to lend me money--and I didn't need +it! Then I went ahead and built this house. I really built it +for Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so different from +the rest of us!" + +"How different?" + +"Oh, you'll see! I'm sure it was to have sons like Emil, and to +give them a chance, that father left the old country. It's curious, +too; on the outside Emil is just like an American boy,--he graduated +from the State University in June, you know,--but underneath he is +more Swedish than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that +he frightens me; he is so violent in his feelings like that." + +"Is he going to farm here with you?" + +"He shall do whatever he wants to," Alexandra declared warmly. "He +is going to have a chance, a whole chance; that's what I've worked +for. Sometimes he talks about studying law, and sometimes, just +lately, he's been talking about going out into the sand hills and +taking up more land. He has his sad times, like father. But I +hope he won't do that. We have land enough, at last!" Alexandra +laughed. + +"How about Lou and Oscar? They've done well, haven't they?" + +"Yes, very well; but they are different, and now that they have +farms of their own I do not see so much of them. We divided the +land equally when Lou married. They have their own way of doing +things, and they do not altogether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps +they think me too independent. But I have had to think for myself +a good many years and am not likely to change. On the whole, +though, we take as much comfort in each other as most brothers and +sisters do. And I am very fond of Lou's oldest daughter." + +"I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, and they probably +feel the same about me. I even, if you can keep a secret,"--Carl +leaned forward and touched her arm, smiling,--"I even think I liked +the old country better. This is all very splendid in its way, +but there was something about this country when it was a wild old +beast that has haunted me all these years. Now, when I come back +to all this milk and honey, I feel like the old German song, 'Wo +bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest Land?'--Do you ever feel like +that, I wonder?" + +"Yes, sometimes, when I think about father and mother and those +who are gone; so many of our old neighbors." Alexandra paused and +looked up thoughtfully at the stars. "We can remember the graveyard +when it was wild prairie, Carl, and now--" + +"And now the old story has begun to write itself over there," said +Carl softly. "Isn't it queer: there are only two or three human +stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they +had never happened before; like the larks in this country, that +have been singing the same five notes over for thousands of years." + +"Oh, yes! The young people, they live so hard. And yet I sometimes +envy them. There is my little neighbor, now; the people who bought +your old place. I wouldn't have sold it to any one else, but I +was always fond of that girl. You must remember her, little Marie +Tovesky, from Omaha, who used to visit here? When she was eighteen +she ran away from the convent school and got married, crazy child! +She came out here a bride, with her father and husband. He had +nothing, and the old man was willing to buy them a place and set +them up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad to have her so +near me. I've never been sorry, either. I even try to get along +with Frank on her account." + +"Is Frank her husband?" + +"Yes. He's one of these wild fellows. Most Bohemians are +good-natured, but Frank thinks we don't appreciate him here, I +guess. He's jealous about everything, his farm and his horses and +his pretty wife. Everybody likes her, just the same as when she +was little. Sometimes I go up to the Catholic church with Emil, +and it's funny to see Marie standing there laughing and shaking +hands with people, looking so excited and gay, with Frank sulking +behind her as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank's not a bad +neighbor, but to get on with him you've got to make a fuss over +him and act as if you thought he was a very important person all +the time, and different from other people. I find it hard to keep +that up from one year's end to another." + +"I shouldn't think you'd be very successful at that kind of thing, +Alexandra." Carl seemed to find the idea amusing. + +"Well," said Alexandra firmly, "I do the best I can, on Marie's +account. She has it hard enough, anyway. She's too young and +pretty for this sort of life. We're all ever so much older and +slower. But she's the kind that won't be downed easily. She'll +work all day and go to a Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and +drive the hay wagon for a cross man next morning. I could stay by +a job, but I never had the go in me that she has, when I was going +my best. I'll have to take you over to see her to-morrow." + +Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly among the castor beans and +sighed. "Yes, I suppose I must see the old place. I'm cowardly +about things that remind me of myself. It took courage to come +at all, Alexandra. I wouldn't have, if I hadn't wanted to see you +very, very much." + +Alexandra looked at him with her calm, deliberate eyes. "Why do +you dread things like that, Carl?" she asked earnestly. "Why are +you dissatisfied with yourself?" + +Her visitor winced. "How direct you are, Alexandra! Just like +you used to be. Do I give myself away so quickly? Well, you see, +for one thing, there's nothing to look forward to in my profession. +Wood-engraving is the only thing I care about, and that had gone out +before I began. Everything's cheap metal work nowadays, touching +up miserable photographs, forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good +ones. I'm absolutely sick of it all." Carl frowned. "Alexandra, +all the way out from New York I've been planning how I could +deceive you and make you think me a very enviable fellow, and here +I am telling you the truth the first night. I waste a lot of time +pretending to people, and the joke of it is, I don't think I ever +deceive any one. There are too many of my kind; people know us on +sight." + +Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair back from her brow with a +puzzled, thoughtful gesture. "You see," he went on calmly, "measured +by your standards here, I'm a failure. I couldn't buy even one of +your cornfields. I've enjoyed a great many things, but I've got +nothing to show for it all." + +"But you show for it yourself, Carl. I'd rather have had your +freedom than my land." + +Carl shook his head mournfully. "Freedom so often means that one +isn't needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a +background of your own, you would be missed. But off there in the +cities there are thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all +alike; we have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing. When one +of us dies, they scarcely know where to bury him. Our landlady and +the delicatessen man are our mourners, and we leave nothing behind +us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an easel, or a typewriter, or +whatever tool we got our living by. All we have ever managed to +do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent that one has to pay for +a few square feet of space near the heart of things. We have no +house, no place, no people of our own. We live in the streets, +in the parks, in the theatres. We sit in restaurants and concert +halls and look about at the hundreds of our own kind and shudder." + +Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon +made on the surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that +she understood what he meant. At last she said slowly, "And yet I +would rather have Emil grow up like that than like his two brothers. +We pay a high rent, too, though we pay differently. We grow hard +and heavy here. We don't move lightly and easily as you do, and +our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider than my cornfields, +if there were not something beside this, I wouldn't feel that it +was much worth while to work. No, I would rather have Emil like +you than like them. I felt that as soon as you came." + +"I wonder why you feel like that?" Carl mused. + +"I don't know. Perhaps I am like Carrie Jensen, the sister of one +of my hired men. She had never been out of the cornfields, and a +few years ago she got despondent and said life was just the same +thing over and over, and she didn't see the use of it. After she +had tried to kill herself once or twice, her folks got worried and +sent her over to Iowa to visit some relations. Ever since she's +come back she's been perfectly cheerful, and she says she's contented +to live and work in a world that's so big and interesting. She +said that anything as big as the bridges over the Platte and the +Missouri reconciled her. And it's what goes on in the world that +reconciles me." + + + + +V + +Alexandra did not find time to go to her neighbor's the next day, nor +the next. It was a busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing +going on, and even Emil was in the field with a team and cultivator. +Carl went about over the farms with Alexandra in the morning, and +in the afternoon and evening they found a great deal to talk about. +Emil, for all his track practice, did not stand up under farmwork +very well, and by night he was too tired to talk or even to practise +on his cornet. + +On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it was light, and stole +downstairs and out of the kitchen door just as old Ivar was making +his morning ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded to him and hurried +up the draw, past the garden, and into the pasture where the milking +cows used to be kept. + +The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire that +was burning under the edge of the world. The color was reflected +in the globules of dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass. +Carl walked rapidly until he came to the crest of the second hill, +where the Bergson pasture joined the one that had belonged to his +father. There he sat down and waited for the sun to rise. It was +just there that he and Alexandra used to do their milking together, he +on his side of the fence, she on hers. He could remember exactly +how she looked when she came over the close-cropped grass, her +skirts pinned up, her head bare, a bright tin pail in either hand, +and the milky light of the early morning all about her. Even as +a boy he used to feel, when he saw her coming with her free step, +her upright head and calm shoulders, that she looked as if she had +walked straight out of the morning itself. Since then, when he had +happened to see the sun come up in the country or on the water, he +had often remembered the young Swedish girl and her milking pails. + +Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in the +grass about him all the small creatures of day began to tune their +tiny instruments. Birds and insects without number began to chirp, +to twitter, to snap and whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill +noises. The pasture was flooded with light; every clump of ironweed +and snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden light +seemed to be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racing +in. + +He crossed the fence into the pasture that was now the Shabatas' and +continued his walk toward the pond. He had not gone far, however, +when he discovered that he was not the only person abroad. In the +draw below, his gun in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, +with a young woman beside him. They were moving softly, keeping +close together, and Carl knew that they expected to find ducks on +the pond. At the moment when they came in sight of the bright spot +of water, he heard a whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into the +air. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and five of the birds +fell to the ground. Emil and his companion laughed delightedly, +and Emil ran to pick them up. When he came back, dangling the +ducks by their feet, Marie held her apron and he dropped them into +it. As she stood looking down at them, her face changed. She +took up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of feathers with the blood +dripping slowly from its mouth, and looked at the live color that +still burned on its plumage. + +As she let it fall, she cried in distress, "Oh, Emil, why did you?" + +"I like that!" the boy exclaimed indignantly. "Why, Marie, you +asked me to come yourself." + +"Yes, yes, I know," she said tearfully, "but I didn't think. I +hate to see them when they are first shot. They were having such +a good time, and we've spoiled it all for them." + +Emil gave a rather sore laugh. "I should say we had! I'm not going +hunting with you any more. You're as bad as Ivar. Here, let me +take them." He snatched the ducks out of her apron. + +"Don't be cross, Emil. Only--Ivar's right about wild things. They're +too happy to kill. You can tell just how they felt when they flew +up. They were scared, but they didn't really think anything could +hurt them. No, we won't do that any more." + +"All right," Emil assented. "I'm sorry I made you feel bad." As +he looked down into her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp +young bitterness in his own. + +Carl watched them as they moved slowly down the draw. They had +not seen him at all. He had not overheard much of their dialogue, +but he felt the import of it. It made him, somehow, unreasonably +mournful to find two young things abroad in the pasture in the +early morning. He decided that he needed his breakfast. + + + + +VI + +At dinner that day Alexandra said she thought they must really +manage to go over to the Shabatas' that afternoon. "It's not often +I let three days go by without seeing Marie. She will think I have +forsaken her, now that my old friend has come back." + +After the men had gone back to work, Alexandra put on a white dress +and her sun-hat, and she and Carl set forth across the fields. +"You see we have kept up the old path, Carl. It has been so nice +for me to feel that there was a friend at the other end of it +again." + +Carl smiled a little ruefully. "All the same, I hope it hasn't +been QUITE the same." + +Alexandra looked at him with surprise. "Why, no, of course not. +Not the same. She could not very well take your place, if that's +what you mean. I'm friendly with all my neighbors, I hope. But +Marie is really a companion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. +You wouldn't want me to be more lonely than I have been, would +you?" + +Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular lock of hair with the +edge of his hat. "Of course I don't. I ought to be thankful that +this path hasn't been worn by--well, by friends with more pressing +errands than your little Bohemian is likely to have." He paused +to give Alexandra his hand as she stepped over the stile. "Are +you the least bit disappointed in our coming together again?" he +asked abruptly. "Is it the way you hoped it would be?" + +Alexandra smiled at this. "Only better. When I've thought about +your coming, I've sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have +lived where things move so fast, and everything is slow here; the +people slowest of all. Our lives are like the years, all made up +of weather and crops and cows. How you hated cows!" She shook her +head and laughed to herself. + +"I didn't when we milked together. I walked up to the pasture +corners this morning. I wonder whether I shall ever be able to +tell you all that I was thinking about up there. It's a strange +thing, Alexandra; I find it easy to be frank with you about everything +under the sun except--yourself!" + +"You are afraid of hurting my feelings, perhaps." Alexandra looked +at him thoughtfully. + +"No, I'm afraid of giving you a shock. You've seen yourself for +so long in the dull minds of the people about you, that if I were +to tell you how you seem to me, it would startle you. But you must +see that you astonish me. You must feel when people admire you." + +Alexandra blushed and laughed with some confusion. "I felt that +you were pleased with me, if you mean that." + +"And you've felt when other people were pleased with you?" he +insisted. + +"Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the banks and the county +offices, seem glad to see me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant +to do business with people who are clean and healthy-looking," she +admitted blandly. + +Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the Shabatas' gate for her. +"Oh, do you?" he asked dryly. + +There was no sign of life about the Shabatas' house except a big +yellow cat, sunning itself on the kitchen doorstep. + +Alexandra took the path that led to the orchard. "She often sits +there and sews. I didn't telephone her we were coming, because I +didn't want her to go to work and bake cake and freeze ice-cream. +She'll always make a party if you give her the least excuse. Do +you recognize the apple trees, Carl?" + +Linstrum looked about him. "I wish I had a dollar for every bucket +of water I've carried for those trees. Poor father, he was an +easy man, but he was perfectly merciless when it came to watering +the orchard." + +"That's one thing I like about Germans; they make an orchard grow +if they can't make anything else. I'm so glad these trees belong +to some one who takes comfort in them. When I rented this place, +the tenants never kept the orchard up, and Emil and I used to come +over and take care of it ourselves. It needs mowing now. There +she is, down in the corner. Maria-a-a!" she called. + +A recumbent figure started up from the grass and came running toward +them through the flickering screen of light and shade. + +"Look at her! Isn't she like a little brown rabbit?" Alexandra +laughed. + +Maria ran up panting and threw her arms about Alexandra. "Oh, I +had begun to think you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you +were so busy. Yes, Emil told me about Mr. Linstrum being here. +Won't you come up to the house?" + +"Why not sit down there in your corner? Carl wants to see the +orchard. He kept all these trees alive for years, watering them +with his own back." + +Marie turned to Carl. "Then I'm thankful to you, Mr. Linstrum. We'd +never have bought the place if it hadn't been for this orchard, and +then I wouldn't have had Alexandra, either." She gave Alexandra's +arm a little squeeze as she walked beside her. "How nice your dress +smells, Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in your chest, like I +told you." + +She led them to the northwest corner of the orchard, sheltered on +one side by a thick mulberry hedge and bordered on the other by a +wheatfield, just beginning to yellow. In this corner the ground +dipped a little, and the blue-grass, which the weeds had driven out +in the upper part of the orchard, grew thick and luxuriant. Wild +roses were flaming in the tufts of bunchgrass along the fence. +Under a white mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. Beside +it lay a book and a workbasket. + +"You must have the seat, Alexandra. The grass would stain your +dress," the hostess insisted. She dropped down on the ground +at Alexandra's side and tucked her feet under her. Carl sat at +a little distance from the two women, his back to the wheatfield, +and watched them. Alexandra took off her shade-hat and threw it on +the ground. Marie picked it up and played with the white ribbons, +twisting them about her brown fingers as she talked. They made a +pretty picture in the strong sunlight, the leafy pattern surrounding +them like a net; the Swedish woman so white and gold, kindly and +amused, but armored in calm, and the alert brown one, her full lips +parted, points of yellow light dancing in her eyes as she laughed +and chattered. Carl had never forgotten little Marie Tovesky's +eyes, and he was glad to have an opportunity to study them. The +brown iris, he found, was curiously slashed with yellow, the color +of sunflower honey, or of old amber. In each eye one of these +streaks must have been larger than the others, for the effect was +that of two dancing points of light, two little yellow bubbles, +such as rise in a glass of champagne. Sometimes they seemed like +the sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily excited, to kindle +with a fierce little flame if one but breathed upon her. "What +a waste," Carl reflected. "She ought to be doing all that for a +sweetheart. How awkwardly things come about!" + +It was not very long before Marie sprang up out of the grass again. +"Wait a moment. I want to show you something." She ran away and +disappeared behind the low-growing apple trees. + +"What a charming creature," Carl murmured. "I don't wonder that +her husband is jealous. But can't she walk? does she always run?" + +Alexandra nodded. "Always. I don't see many people, but I don't +believe there are many like her, anywhere." + +Marie came back with a branch she had broken from an apricot tree, +laden with pale yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it beside +Carl. "Did you plant those, too? They are such beautiful little +trees." + +Carl fingered the blue-green leaves, porous like blotting-paper and +shaped like birch leaves, hung on waxen red stems. "Yes, I think +I did. Are these the circus trees, Alexandra?" + +"Shall I tell her about them?" Alexandra asked. "Sit down like +a good girl, Marie, and don't ruin my poor hat, and I'll tell you +a story. A long time ago, when Carl and I were, say, sixteen and +twelve, a circus came to Hanover and we went to town in our wagon, +with Lou and Oscar, to see the parade. We hadn't money enough to +go to the circus. We followed the parade out to the circus grounds +and hung around until the show began and the crowd went inside the +tent. Then Lou was afraid we looked foolish standing outside in +the pasture, so we went back to Hanover feeling very sad. There +was a man in the streets selling apricots, and we had never seen +any before. He had driven down from somewhere up in the French +country, and he was selling them twenty-five cents a peck. We had +a little money our fathers had given us for candy, and I bought +two pecks and Carl bought one. They cheered us a good deal, and +we saved all the seeds and planted them. Up to the time Carl went +away, they hadn't borne at all." + +"And now he's come back to eat them," cried Marie, nodding at Carl. +"That IS a good story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Linstrum. +I used to see you in Hanover sometimes, when Uncle Joe took me to +town. I remember you because you were always buying pencils and +tubes of paint at the drug store. Once, when my uncle left me at +the store, you drew a lot of little birds and flowers for me on a +piece of wrapping-paper. I kept them for a long while. I thought +you were very romantic because you could draw and had such black +eyes." + +Carl smiled. "Yes, I remember that time. Your uncle bought you +some kind of a mechanical toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman +and smoking a hookah, wasn't it? And she turned her head backwards +and forwards." + +"Oh, yes! Wasn't she splendid! I knew well enough I ought not +to tell Uncle Joe I wanted it, for he had just come back from the +saloon and was feeling good. You remember how he laughed? She +tickled him, too. But when we got home, my aunt scolded him for +buying toys when she needed so many things. We wound our lady up +every night, and when she began to move her head my aunt used to +laugh as hard as any of us. It was a music-box, you know, and the +Turkish lady played a tune while she smoked. That was how she made +you feel so jolly. As I remember her, she was lovely, and had a +gold crescent on her turban." + +Half an hour later, as they were leaving the house, Carl and Alexandra +were met in the path by a strapping fellow in overalls and a blue +shirt. He was breathing hard, as if he had been running, and was +muttering to himself. + +Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the arm, gave him a little +push toward her guests. "Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum." + +Frank took off his broad straw hat and nodded to Alexandra. When +he spoke to Carl, he showed a fine set of white teeth. He was burned +a dull red down to his neckband, and there was a heavy three-days' +stubble on his face. Even in his agitation he was handsome, but +he looked a rash and violent man. + +Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once to his wife and +began, in an outraged tone, "I have to leave my team to drive the +old woman Hiller's hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat old woman +to de court if she ain't careful, I tell you!" + +His wife spoke soothingly. "But, Frank, she has only her lame boy +to help her. She does the best she can." + +Alexandra looked at the excited man and offered a suggestion. "Why +don't you go over there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? +You'd save time for yourself in the end." + +Frank's neck stiffened. "Not-a-much, I won't. I keep my hogs +home. Other peoples can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend +shoes, he can mend fence." + +"Maybe," said Alexandra placidly; "but I've found it sometimes pays +to mend other people's fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to see me +soon." + +Alexandra walked firmly down the path and Carl followed her. + +Frank went into the house and threw himself on the sofa, his face +to the wall, his clenched fist on his hip. Marie, having seen her +guests off, came in and put her hand coaxingly on his shoulder. + +"Poor Frank! You've run until you've made your head ache, now +haven't you? Let me make you some coffee." + +"What else am I to do?" he cried hotly in Bohemian. "Am I to let +any old woman's hogs root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself +to death for?" + +"Don't worry about it, Frank. I'll speak to Mrs. Hiller again. +But, really, she almost cried last time they got out, she was so +sorry." + +Frank bounced over on his other side. "That's it; you always side +with them against me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free +to borrow the mower and break it, or turn their hogs in on me. +They know you won't care!" + +Marie hurried away to make his coffee. When she came back, he was +fast asleep. She sat down and looked at him for a long while, very +thoughtfully. When the kitchen clock struck six she went out to +get supper, closing the door gently behind her. She was always +sorry for Frank when he worked himself into one of these rages, and +she was sorry to have him rough and quarrelsome with his neighbors. +She was perfectly aware that the neighbors had a good deal to put +up with, and that they bore with Frank for her sake. + + + + +VII + +Marie's father, Albert Tovesky, was one of the more intelligent +Bohemians who came West in the early seventies. He settled in Omaha +and became a leader and adviser among his people there. Marie was +his youngest child, by a second wife, and was the apple of his eye. +She was barely sixteen, and was in the graduating class of the +Omaha High School, when Frank Shabata arrived from the old country +and set all the Bohemian girls in a flutter. He was easily the +buck of the beer-gardens, and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with +his silk hat and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, wearing gloves +and carrying a little wisp of a yellow cane. He was tall and fair, +with splendid teeth and close-cropped yellow curls, and he wore a +slightly disdainful expression, proper for a young man with high +connections, whose mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. There +was often an interesting discontent in his blue eyes, and every +Bohemian girl he met imagined herself the cause of that unsatisfied +expression. He had a way of drawing out his cambric handkerchief +slowly, by one corner, from his breast-pocket, that was melancholy +and romantic in the extreme. He took a little flight with each +of the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it was when he was with +little Marie Tovesky that he drew his handkerchief out most slowly, +and, after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match most +despairingly. Any one could see, with half an eye, that his proud +heart was bleeding for somebody. + +One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie's graduation, she met +Frank at a Bohemian picnic down the river and went rowing with him +all the afternoon. When she got home that evening she went straight +to her father's room and told him that she was engaged to Shabata. +Old Tovesky was having a comfortable pipe before he went to bed. +When he heard his daughter's announcement, he first prudently +corked his beer bottle and then leaped to his feet and had a turn +of temper. He characterized Frank Shabata by a Bohemian expression +which is the equivalent of stuffed shirt. + +"Why don't he go to work like the rest of us did? His farm in the +Elbe valley, indeed! Ain't he got plenty brothers and sisters? +It's his mother's farm, and why don't he stay at home and help her? +Haven't I seen his mother out in the morning at five o'clock with +her ladle and her big bucket on wheels, putting liquid manure on +the cabbages? Don't I know the look of old Eva Shabata's hands? +Like an old horse's hoofs they are--and this fellow wearing gloves +and rings! Engaged, indeed! You aren't fit to be out of school, +and that's what's the matter with you. I will send you off to the +Sisters of the Sacred Heart in St. Louis, and they will teach you +some sense, _I_ guess!" + +Accordingly, the very next week, Albert Tovesky took his daughter, +pale and tearful, down the river to the convent. But the way to +make Frank want anything was to tell him he couldn't have it. He +managed to have an interview with Marie before she went away, +and whereas he had been only half in love with her before, he now +persuaded himself that he would not stop at anything. Marie took +with her to the convent, under the canvas lining of her trunk, the +results of a laborious and satisfying morning on Frank's part; no +less than a dozen photographs of himself, taken in a dozen different +love-lorn attitudes. There was a little round photograph for her +watch-case, photographs for her wall and dresser, and even long +narrow ones to be used as bookmarks. More than once the handsome +gentleman was torn to pieces before the French class by an indignant +nun. + +Marie pined in the convent for a year, until her eighteenth birthday +was passed. Then she met Frank Shabata in the Union Station in +St. Louis and ran away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his daughter +because there was nothing else to do, and bought her a farm in +the country that she had loved so well as a child. Since then her +story had been a part of the history of the Divide. She and Frank +had been living there for five years when Carl Linstrum came back +to pay his long deferred visit to Alexandra. Frank had, on the +whole, done better than one might have expected. He had flung +himself at the soil with savage energy. Once a year he went to +Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He stayed away for a week or +two, and then came home and worked like a demon. He did work; if +he felt sorry for himself, that was his own affair. + + + + +VIII + +On the evening of the day of Alexandra's call at the Shabatas', +a heavy rain set in. Frank sat up until a late hour reading the +Sunday newspapers. One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, and +Frank took it as a personal affront. In printing the story of the +young man's marital troubles, the knowing editor gave a sufficiently +colored account of his career, stating the amount of his income +and the manner in which he was supposed to spend it. Frank read +English slowly, and the more he read about this divorce case, the +angrier he grew. At last he threw down the page with a snort. He +turned to his farm-hand who was reading the other half of the paper. + +"By God! if I have that young feller in de hayfield once, I show +him someting. Listen here what he do wit his money." And Frank +began the catalogue of the young man's reputed extravagances. + +Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the Goulds, for whom she +had nothing but good will, should make her so much trouble. She +hated to see the Sunday newspapers come into the house. Frank was +always reading about the doings of rich people and feeling outraged. +He had an inexhaustible stock of stories about their crimes and +follies, how they bribed the courts and shot down their butlers +with impunity whenever they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson had very +similar ideas, and they were two of the political agitators of the +county. + +The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the +ground was too wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to +Sainte-Agnes to spend the day at Moses Marcel's saloon. After he +was gone, Marie went out to the back porch to begin her butter-making. +A brisk wind had come up and was driving puffy white clouds across +the sky. The orchard was sparkling and rippling in the sun. Marie +stood looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid of the +churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the air, the merry sound of +the whetstone on the scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran +into the house, put on a short skirt and a pair of her husband's +boots, caught up a tin pail and started for the orchard. Emil +had already begun work and was mowing vigorously. When he saw her +coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. His yellow canvas leggings +and khaki trousers were splashed to the knees. + +"Don't let me disturb you, Emil. I'm going to pick cherries. +Isn't everything beautiful after the rain? Oh, but I'm glad to get +this place mowed! When I heard it raining in the night, I thought +maybe you would come and do it for me to-day. The wind wakened +me. Didn't it blow dreadfully? Just smell the wild roses! They +are always so spicy after a rain. We never had so many of them +in here before. I suppose it's the wet season. Will you have to +cut them, too?" + +"If I cut the grass, I will," Emil said teasingly. "What's the +matter with you? What makes you so flighty?" + +"Am I flighty? I suppose that's the wet season, too, then. It's +exciting to see everything growing so fast,--and to get the grass +cut! Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut them. Oh, +I don't mean all of them, I mean that low place down by my tree, where +there are so many. Aren't you splashed! Look at the spider-webs +all over the grass. Good-bye. I'll call you if I see a snake." + +She tripped away and Emil stood looking after her. In a few moments +he heard the cherries dropping smartly into the pail, and he began +to swing his scythe with that long, even stroke that few American +boys ever learn. Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, +stripping one glittering branch after another, shivering when she +caught a shower of raindrops on her neck and hair. And Emil mowed +his way slowly down toward the cherry trees. + +That summer the rains had been so many and opportune that it was +almost more than Shabata and his man could do to keep up with the +corn; the orchard was a neglected wilderness. All sorts of weeds and +herbs and flowers had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, +pale green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, plantations of wild +cotton, tangles of foxtail and wild wheat. South of the apricot +trees, cornering on the wheatfield, was Frank's alfalfa, where +myriads of white and yellow butterflies were always fluttering +above the purple blossoms. When Emil reached the lower corner by +the hedge, Marie was sitting under her white mulberry tree, the +pailful of cherries beside her, looking off at the gentle, tireless +swelling of the wheat. + +"Emil," she said suddenly--he was mowing quietly about under the +tree so as not to disturb her--"what religion did the Swedes have +away back, before they were Christians?" + +Emil paused and straightened his back. "I don't know. About like +the Germans', wasn't it?" + +Marie went on as if she had not heard him. "The Bohemians, you +know, were tree worshipers before the missionaries came. Father says +the people in the mountains still do queer things, sometimes,--they +believe that trees bring good or bad luck." + +Emil looked superior. "Do they? Well, which are the lucky trees? +I'd like to know." + +"I don't know all of them, but I know lindens are. The old people +in the mountains plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do away +with the spells that come from the old trees they say have lasted +from heathen times. I'm a good Catholic, but I think I could get +along with caring for trees, if I hadn't anything else." + +"That's a poor saying," said Emil, stooping over to wipe his hands +in the wet grass. + +"Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that way. I like trees +because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than +other things do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever +think of when I sit here. When I come back to it, I never have to +remind it of anything; I begin just where I left off." + +Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached up among the branches +and began to pick the sweet, insipid fruit,--long ivory-colored +berries, tipped with faint pink, like white coral, that fall to +the ground unheeded all summer through. He dropped a handful into +her lap. + +"Do you like Mr. Linstrum?" Marie asked suddenly. + +"Yes. Don't you?" + +"Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of staid and school-teachery. +But, of course, he is older than Frank, even. I'm sure I don't +want to live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you think Alexandra +likes him very much?" + +"I suppose so. They were old friends." + +"Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!" Marie tossed her head impatiently. +"Does she really care about him? When she used to tell me about +him, I always wondered whether she wasn't a little in love with +him." + +"Who, Alexandra?" Emil laughed and thrust his hands into his +trousers pockets. "Alexandra's never been in love, you crazy!" He +laughed again. "She wouldn't know how to go about it. The idea!" + +Marie shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you don't know Alexandra as well +as you think you do! If you had any eyes, you would see that she +is very fond of him. It would serve you all right if she walked +off with Carl. I like him because he appreciates her more than +you do." + +Emil frowned. "What are you talking about, Marie? Alexandra's +all right. She and I have always been good friends. What more do +you want? I like to talk to Carl about New York and what a fellow +can do there." + +"Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of going off there?" + +"Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn't I?" The young man took up +his scythe and leaned on it. "Would you rather I went off in the +sand hills and lived like Ivar?" + +Marie's face fell under his brooding gaze. She looked down at his +wet leggings. "I'm sure Alexandra hopes you will stay on here," +she murmured. + +"Then Alexandra will be disappointed," the young man said roughly. +"What do I want to hang around here for? Alexandra can run the +farm all right, without me. I don't want to stand around and look +on. I want to be doing something on my own account." + +"That's so," Marie sighed. "There are so many, many things you +can do. Almost anything you choose." + +"And there are so many, many things I can't do." Emil echoed her +tone sarcastically. "Sometimes I don't want to do anything at +all, and sometimes I want to pull the four corners of the Divide +together,"--he threw out his arm and brought it back with a jerk,--"so, +like a table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses going up +and down, up and down." + +Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her face clouded. "I wish +you weren't so restless, and didn't get so worked up over things," +she said sadly. + +"Thank you," he returned shortly. + +She sighed despondently. "Everything I say makes you cross, don't +it? And you never used to be cross to me." + +Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning down at her bent head. +He stood in an attitude of self-defense, his feet well apart, his +hands clenched and drawn up at his sides, so that the cords stood +out on his bare arms. "I can't play with you like a little boy +any more," he said slowly. "That's what you miss, Marie. You'll +have to get some other little boy to play with." He stopped and took +a deep breath. Then he went on in a low tone, so intense that it +was almost threatening: "Sometimes you seem to understand perfectly, +and then sometimes you pretend you don't. You don't help things +any by pretending. It's then that I want to pull the corners of +the Divide together. If you WON'T understand, you know, I could +make you!" + +Marie clasped her hands and started up from her seat. She had grown +very pale and her eyes were shining with excitement and distress. +"But, Emil, if I understand, then all our good times are over, we +can never do nice things together any more. We shall have to behave +like Mr. Linstrum. And, anyhow, there's nothing to understand!" +She struck the ground with her little foot fiercely. "That won't +last. It will go away, and things will be just as they used to. +I wish you were a Catholic. The Church helps people, indeed it +does. I pray for you, but that's not the same as if you prayed +yourself." + +She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked entreatingly into his +face. Emil stood defiant, gazing down at her. + +"I can't pray to have the things I want," he said slowly, "and I +won't pray not to have them, not if I'm damned for it." + +Marie turned away, wringing her hands. "Oh, Emil, you won't try! +Then all our good times are over." + +"Yes; over. I never expect to have any more." + +Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe and began to mow. Marie +took up her cherries and went slowly toward the house, crying +bitterly. + + + + +IX + +On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl Linstrum's arrival, he rode +with Emil up into the French country to attend a Catholic fair. He +sat for most of the afternoon in the basement of the church, where +the fair was held, talking to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the +gravel terrace, thrown up on the hillside in front of the basement +doors, where the French boys were jumping and wrestling and throwing +the discus. Some of the boys were in their white baseball suits; +they had just come up from a Sunday practice game down in the +ballgrounds. Amedee, the newly married, Emil's best friend, was +their pitcher, renowned among the country towns for his dash and +skill. Amedee was a little fellow, a year younger than Emil and +much more boyish in appearance; very lithe and active and neatly +made, with a clear brown and white skin, and flashing white teeth. +The Sainte-Agnes boys were to play the Hastings nine in a fortnight, +and Amedee's lightning balls were the hope of his team. The little +Frenchman seemed to get every ounce there was in him behind the +ball as it left his hand. + +"You'd have made the battery at the University for sure, 'Medee," +Emil said as they were walking from the ball-grounds back to the +church on the hill. "You're pitching better than you did in the +spring." + +Amedee grinned. "Sure! A married man don't lose his head no more." +He slapped Emil on the back as he caught step with him. "Oh, Emil, +you wanna get married right off quick! It's the greatest thing +ever!" + +Emil laughed. "How am I going to get married without any girl?" + +Amedee took his arm. "Pooh! There are plenty girls will have +you. You wanna get some nice French girl, now. She treat you well; +always be jolly. See,"--he began checking off on his fingers,--"there +is Severine, and Alphosen, and Josephine, and Hectorine, and Louise, +and Malvina--why, I could love any of them girls! Why don't you +get after them? Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the matter +with you? I never did know a boy twenty-two years old before that +didn't have no girl. You wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a for me!" +Amedee swaggered. "I bring many good Catholics into this world, +I hope, and that's a way I help the Church." + +Emil looked down and patted him on the shoulder. "Now you're windy, +'Medee. You Frenchies like to brag." + +But Amedee had the zeal of the newly married, and he was not +to be lightly shaken off. "Honest and true, Emil, don't you want +ANY girl? Maybe there's some young lady in Lincoln, now, very +grand,"--Amedee waved his hand languidly before his face to denote +the fan of heartless beauty,--"and you lost your heart up there. +Is that it?" + +"Maybe," said Emil. + +But Amedee saw no appropriate glow in his friend's face. "Bah!" +he exclaimed in disgust. "I tell all the French girls to keep 'way +from you. You gotta rock in there," thumping Emil on the ribs. + +When they reached the terrace at the side of the church, Amedee, +who was excited by his success on the ball-grounds, challenged +Emil to a jumping-match, though he knew he would be beaten. They +belted themselves up, and Raoul Marcel, the choir tenor and Father +Duchesne's pet, and Jean Bordelau, held the string over which they +vaulted. All the French boys stood round, cheering and humping +themselves up when Emil or Amedee went over the wire, as if they +were helping in the lift. Emil stopped at five-feet-five, declaring +that he would spoil his appetite for supper if he jumped any more. + +Angelique, Amedee's pretty bride, as blonde and fair as her name, +who had come out to watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and +said:-- + +"'Medee could jump much higher than you if he were as tall. And +anyhow, he is much more graceful. He goes over like a bird, and +you have to hump yourself all up." + +"Oh, I do, do I?" Emil caught her and kissed her saucy mouth squarely, +while she laughed and struggled and called, "'Medee! 'Medee!" + +"There, you see your 'Medee isn't even big enough to get you away +from me. I could run away with you right now and he could only +sit down and cry about it. I'll show you whether I have to hump +myself!" Laughing and panting, he picked Angelique up in his arms +and began running about the rectangle with her. Not until he saw +Marie Shabata's tiger eyes flashing from the gloom of the basement +doorway did he hand the disheveled bride over to her husband. +"There, go to your graceful; I haven't the heart to take you away +from him." + +Angelique clung to her husband and made faces at Emil over the +white shoulder of Amedee's ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused at +her air of proprietorship and at Amedee's shameless submission to +it. He was delighted with his friend's good fortune. He liked to +see and to think about Amedee's sunny, natural, happy love. + +He and Amedee had ridden and wrestled and larked together since +they were lads of twelve. On Sundays and holidays they were always +arm in arm. It seemed strange that now he should have to hide the +thing that Amedee was so proud of, that the feeling which gave one +of them such happiness should bring the other such despair. It +was like that when Alexandra tested her seed-corn in the spring, +he mused. From two ears that had grown side by side, the grains +of one shot up joyfully into the light, projecting themselves into +the future, and the grains from the other lay still in the earth +and rotted; and nobody knew why. + + + + +X + +While Emil and Carl were amusing themselves at the fair, Alexandra +was at home, busy with her account-books, which had been neglected +of late. She was almost through with her figures when she heard +a cart drive up to the gate, and looking out of the window she saw +her two older brothers. They had seemed to avoid her ever since +Carl Linstrum's arrival, four weeks ago that day, and she hurried +to the door to welcome them. She saw at once that they had come +with some very definite purpose. They followed her stiffly into +the sitting-room. Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the window +and remained standing, his hands behind him. + +"You are by yourself?" he asked, looking toward the doorway into +the parlor. + +"Yes. Carl and Emil went up to the Catholic fair." + +For a few moments neither of the men spoke. + +Then Lou came out sharply. "How soon does he intend to go away +from here?" + +"I don't know, Lou. Not for some time, I hope." Alexandra spoke +in an even, quiet tone that often exasperated her brothers. They +felt that she was trying to be superior with them. + +Oscar spoke up grimly. "We thought we ought to tell you that people +have begun to talk," he said meaningly. + +Alexandra looked at him. "What about?" + +Oscar met her eyes blankly. "About you, keeping him here so long. +It looks bad for him to be hanging on to a woman this way. People +think you're getting taken in." + +Alexandra shut her account-book firmly. "Boys," she said seriously, +"don't let's go on with this. We won't come out anywhere. I can't +take advice on such a matter. I know you mean well, but you must +not feel responsible for me in things of this sort. If we go on +with this talk it will only make hard feeling." + +Lou whipped about from the window. "You ought to think a little +about your family. You're making us all ridiculous." + +"How am I?" + +"People are beginning to say you want to marry the fellow." + +"Well, and what is ridiculous about that?" + +Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. "Alexandra! Can't you +see he's just a tramp and he's after your money? He wants to be +taken care of, he does!" + +"Well, suppose I want to take care of him? Whose business is it +but my own?" + +"Don't you know he'd get hold of your property?" + +"He'd get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly." + +Oscar sat up suddenly and Lou clutched at his bristly hair. + +"Give him?" Lou shouted. "Our property, our homestead?" + +"I don't know about the homestead," said Alexandra quietly. "I +know you and Oscar have always expected that it would be left to +your children, and I'm not sure but what you're right. But I'll +do exactly as I please with the rest of my land, boys." + +"The rest of your land!" cried Lou, growing more excited every +minute. "Didn't all the land come out of the homestead? It was +bought with money borrowed on the homestead, and Oscar and me worked +ourselves to the bone paying interest on it." + +"Yes, you paid the interest. But when you married we made a division +of the land, and you were satisfied. I've made more on my farms +since I've been alone than when we all worked together." + +"Everything you've made has come out of the original land that us +boys worked for, hasn't it? The farms and all that comes out of +them belongs to us as a family." + +Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. "Come now, Lou. Stick to +the facts. You are talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and +ask him who owns my land, and whether my titles are good." + +Lou turned to his brother. "This is what comes of letting a woman +meddle in business," he said bitterly. "We ought to have taken +things in our own hands years ago. But she liked to run things, +and we humored her. We thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We +never thought you'd do anything foolish." + +Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk with her knuckles. +"Listen, Lou. Don't talk wild. You say you ought to have taken +things into your own hands years ago. I suppose you mean before +you left home. But how could you take hold of what wasn't there? +I've got most of what I have now since we divided the property; +I've built it up myself, and it has nothing to do with you." + +Oscar spoke up solemnly. "The property of a family really belongs +to the men of the family, no matter about the title. If anything +goes wrong, it's the men that are held responsible." + +"Yes, of course," Lou broke in. "Everybody knows that. Oscar and +me have always been easy-going and we've never made any fuss. We +were willing you should hold the land and have the good of it, but +you got no right to part with any of it. We worked in the fields +to pay for the first land you bought, and whatever's come out of +it has got to be kept in the family." + +Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed on the one point he +could see. "The property of a family belongs to the men of the +family, because they are held responsible, and because they do the +work." + +Alexandra looked from one to the other, her eyes full of indignation. +She had been impatient before, but now she was beginning to feel +angry. "And what about my work?" she asked in an unsteady voice. + +Lou looked at the carpet. "Oh, now, Alexandra, you always took +it pretty easy! Of course we wanted you to. You liked to manage +round, and we always humored you. We realize you were a great +deal of help to us. There's no woman anywhere around that knows +as much about business as you do, and we've always been proud of +that, and thought you were pretty smart. But, of course, the real +work always fell on us. Good advice is all right, but it don't +get the weeds out of the corn." + +"Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the crop, and it sometimes +keeps the fields for corn to grow in," said Alexandra dryly. "Why, +Lou, I can remember when you and Oscar wanted to sell this homestead +and all the improvements to old preacher Ericson for two thousand +dollars. If I'd consented, you'd have gone down to the river and +scraped along on poor farms for the rest of your lives. When I put +in our first field of alfalfa you both opposed me, just because I +first heard about it from a young man who had been to the University. +You said I was being taken in then, and all the neighbors said +so. You know as well as I do that alfalfa has been the salvation +of this country. You all laughed at me when I said our land here +was about ready for wheat, and I had to raise three big wheat crops +before the neighbors quit putting all their land in corn. Why, I +remember you cried, Lou, when we put in the first big wheat-planting, +and said everybody was laughing at us." + +Lou turned to Oscar. "That's the woman of it; if she tells you to +put in a crop, she thinks she's put it in. It makes women conceited +to meddle in business. I shouldn't think you'd want to remind us +how hard you were on us, Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil." + +"Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. Conditions were hard. +Maybe I would never have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly +didn't choose to be the kind of girl I was. If you take even a +vine and cut it back again and again, it grows hard, like a tree." + +Lou felt that they were wandering from the point, and that +in digression Alexandra might unnerve him. He wiped his forehead +with a jerk of his handkerchief. "We never doubted you, Alexandra. +We never questioned anything you did. You've always had your own +way. But you can't expect us to sit like stumps and see you done +out of the property by any loafer who happens along, and making +yourself ridiculous into the bargain." + +Oscar rose. "Yes," he broke in, "everybody's laughing to see you +get took in; at your age, too. Everybody knows he's nearly five +years younger than you, and is after your money. Why, Alexandra, +you are forty years old!" + +"All that doesn't concern anybody but Carl and me. Go to town and +ask your lawyers what you can do to restrain me from disposing of +my own property. And I advise you to do what they tell you; for +the authority you can exert by law is the only influence you will +ever have over me again." Alexandra rose. "I think I would rather +not have lived to find out what I have to-day," she said quietly, +closing her desk. + +Lou and Oscar looked at each other questioningly. There seemed to +be nothing to do but to go, and they walked out. + +"You can't do business with women," Oscar said heavily as he +clambered into the cart. "But anyhow, we've had our say, at last." + +Lou scratched his head. "Talk of that kind might come too high, you +know; but she's apt to be sensible. You hadn't ought to said that +about her age, though, Oscar. I'm afraid that hurt her feelings; +and the worst thing we can do is to make her sore at us. She'd +marry him out of contrariness." + +"I only meant," said Oscar, "that she is old enough to know better, +and she is. If she was going to marry, she ought to done it long +ago, and not go making a fool of herself now." + +Lou looked anxious, nevertheless. "Of course," he reflected hopefully +and inconsistently, "Alexandra ain't much like other women-folks. +Maybe it won't make her sore. Maybe she'd as soon be forty as +not!" + + + + +XI + +Emil came home at about half-past seven o'clock that evening. Old +Ivar met him at the windmill and took his horse, and the young +man went directly into the house. He called to his sister and she +answered from her bedroom, behind the sitting-room, saying that +she was lying down. + +Emil went to her door. + +"Can I see you for a minute?" he asked. "I want to talk to you +about something before Carl comes." + +Alexandra rose quickly and came to the door. "Where is Carl?" + +"Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted to talk to him, so he +rode over to Oscar's with them. Are you coming out?" Emil asked +impatiently. + +"Yes, sit down. I'll be dressed in a moment." + +Alexandra closed her door, and Emil sank down on the old slat lounge +and sat with his head in his hands. When his sister came out, he +looked up, not knowing whether the interval had been short or long, +and he was surprised to see that the room had grown quite dark. +That was just as well; it would be easier to talk if he were not +under the gaze of those clear, deliberate eyes, that saw so far in +some directions and were so blind in others. Alexandra, too, was +glad of the dusk. Her face was swollen from crying. + +Emil started up and then sat down again. "Alexandra," he said +slowly, in his deep young baritone, "I don't want to go away to +law school this fall. Let me put it off another year. I want to +take a year off and look around. It's awfully easy to rush into +a profession you don't really like, and awfully hard to get out of +it. Linstrum and I have been talking about that." + +"Very well, Emil. Only don't go off looking for land." She came +up and put her hand on his shoulder. "I've been wishing you could +stay with me this winter." + +"That's just what I don't want to do, Alexandra. I'm restless. +I want to go to a new place. I want to go down to the City of +Mexico to join one of the University fellows who's at the head of +an electrical plant. He wrote me he could give me a little job, +enough to pay my way, and I could look around and see what I want +to do. I want to go as soon as harvest is over. I guess Lou and +Oscar will be sore about it." + +"I suppose they will." Alexandra sat down on the lounge beside +him. "They are very angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. +They will not come here again." + +Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he did not notice the +sadness of her tone. He was thinking about the reckless life he +meant to live in Mexico. + +"What about?" he asked absently. + +"About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am going to marry him, +and that some of my property will get away from them." + +Emil shrugged his shoulders. "What nonsense!" he murmured. "Just +like them." + +Alexandra drew back. "Why nonsense, Emil?" + +"Why, you've never thought of such a thing, have you? They always +have to have something to fuss about." + +"Emil," said his sister slowly, "you ought not to take things for +granted. Do you agree with them that I have no right to change my +way of living?" + +Emil looked at the outline of his sister's head in the dim light. +They were sitting close together and he somehow felt that she +could hear his thoughts. He was silent for a moment, and then said +in an embarrassed tone, "Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do +whatever you want to. I'll always back you." + +"But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to you if I married +Carl?" + +Emil fidgeted. The issue seemed to him too far-fetched to warrant +discussion. "Why, no. I should be surprised if you wanted to. I +can't see exactly why. But that's none of my business. You ought +to do as you please. Certainly you ought not to pay any attention +to what the boys say." + +Alexandra sighed. "I had hoped you might understand, a little, +why I do want to. But I suppose that's too much to expect. I've +had a pretty lonely life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is the only +friend I have ever had." + +Emil was awake now; a name in her last sentence roused him. He +put out his hand and took his sister's awkwardly. "You ought to +do just as you wish, and I think Carl's a fine fellow. He and I +would always get on. I don't believe any of the things the boys +say about him, honest I don't. They are suspicious of him because +he's intelligent. You know their way. They've been sore at me +ever since you let me go away to college. They're always trying to +catch me up. If I were you, I wouldn't pay any attention to them. +There's nothing to get upset about. Carl's a sensible fellow. He +won't mind them." + +"I don't know. If they talk to him the way they did to me, I think +he'll go away." + +Emil grew more and more uneasy. "Think so? Well, Marie said it +would serve us all right if you walked off with him." + +"Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would." Alexandra's voice +broke. + +Emil began unlacing his leggings. "Why don't you talk to her about +it? There's Carl, I hear his horse. I guess I'll go upstairs and +get my boots off. No, I don't want any supper. We had supper at +five o'clock, at the fair." + +Emil was glad to escape and get to his own room. He was a little +ashamed for his sister, though he had tried not to show it. He +felt that there was something indecorous in her proposal, and she +did seem to him somewhat ridiculous. There was trouble enough in +the world, he reflected, as he threw himself upon his bed, without +people who were forty years old imagining they wanted to get +married. In the darkness and silence Emil was not likely to think +long about Alexandra. Every image slipped away but one. He had +seen Marie in the crowd that afternoon. She sold candy at the +fair. WHY had she ever run away with Frank Shabata, and how could +she go on laughing and working and taking an interest in things? +Why did she like so many people, and why had she seemed pleased when +all the French and Bohemian boys, and the priest himself, crowded +round her candy stand? Why did she care about any one but him? Why +could he never, never find the thing he looked for in her playful, +affectionate eyes? + +Then he fell to imagining that he looked once more and found it +there, and what it would be like if she loved him,--she who, as +Alexandra said, could give her whole heart. In that dream he could +lie for hours, as if in a trance. His spirit went out of his body +and crossed the fields to Marie Shabata. + +At the University dances the girls had often looked wonderingly +at the tall young Swede with the fine head, leaning against the +wall and frowning, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling +or the floor. All the girls were a little afraid of him. He was +distinguished-looking, and not the jollying kind. They felt that +he was too intense and preoccupied. There was something queer about +him. Emil's fraternity rather prided itself upon its dances, and +sometimes he did his duty and danced every dance. But whether he +was on the floor or brooding in a corner, he was always thinking +about Marie Shabata. For two years the storm had been gathering +in him. + + + + +XII + +Carl came into the sitting-room while Alexandra was lighting the +lamp. She looked up at him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp +shoulders stooped as if he were very tired, his face was pale, +and there were bluish shadows under his dark eyes. His anger had +burned itself out and left him sick and disgusted. + +"You have seen Lou and Oscar?" Alexandra asked. + +"Yes." His eyes avoided hers. + +Alexandra took a deep breath. "And now you are going away. I +thought so." + +Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed the dark lock back +from his forehead with his white, nervous hand. "What a hopeless +position you are in, Alexandra!" he exclaimed feverishly. "It is +your fate to be always surrounded by little men. And I am no better +than the rest. I am too little to face the criticism of even such +men as Lou and Oscar. Yes, I am going away; to-morrow. I cannot +even ask you to give me a promise until I have something to offer +you. I thought, perhaps, I could do that; but I find I can't." + +"What good comes of offering people things they don't need?" +Alexandra asked sadly. "I don't need money. But I have needed +you for a great many years. I wonder why I have been permitted to +prosper, if it is only to take my friends away from me." + +"I don't deceive myself," Carl said frankly. "I know that I am +going away on my own account. I must make the usual effort. I +must have something to show for myself. To take what you would +give me, I should have to be either a very large man or a very +small one, and I am only in the middle class." + +Alexandra sighed. "I have a feeling that if you go away, you will +not come back. Something will happen to one of us, or to both. +People have to snatch at happiness when they can, in this world. +It is always easier to lose than to find. What I have is yours, +if you care enough about me to take it." + +Carl rose and looked up at the picture of John Bergson. "But I +can't, my dear, I can't! I will go North at once. Instead of idling +about in California all winter, I shall be getting my bearings up +there. I won't waste another week. Be patient with me, Alexandra. +Give me a year!" + +"As you will," said Alexandra wearily. "All at once, in a single +day, I lose everything; and I do not know why. Emil, too, is going +away." Carl was still studying John Bergson's face and Alexandra's +eyes followed his. "Yes," she said, "if he could have seen all +that would come of the task he gave me, he would have been sorry. +I hope he does not see me now. I hope that he is among the old +people of his blood and country, and that tidings do not reach him +from the New World." + + + + +PART III. Winter Memories + + + + +I + +Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season in +which Nature recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between the +fruitfulness of autumn and the passion of spring. The birds have +gone. The teeming life that goes on down in the long grass is +exterminated. The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run +shivering from one frozen garden patch to another and are hard put +to it to find frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes +roam the wintry waste, howling for food. The variegated fields +are all one color now; the pastures, the stubble, the roads, the +sky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcely +perceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they have taken +on. The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walk +in the roads or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country, +and the spirit is oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One could +easily believe that in that dead landscape the germs of life and +fruitfulness were extinct forever. + +Alexandra has settled back into her old routine. There are weekly +letters from Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl +went away. To avoid awkward encounters in the presence of curious +spectators, she has stopped going to the Norwegian Church and drives +up to the Reform Church at Hanover, or goes with Marie Shabata to +the Catholic Church, locally known as "the French Church." She has +not told Marie about Carl, or her differences with her brothers. +She was never very communicative about her own affairs, and when +she came to the point, an instinct told her that about such things +she and Marie would not understand one another. + +Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family misunderstandings might +deprive her of her yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day +of December Alexandra telephoned Annie that to-morrow she would +send Ivar over for her mother, and the next day the old lady arrived +with her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee had always entered +Alexandra's sitting-room with the same exclamation, "Now we be yust-a +like old times!" She enjoyed the liberty Alexandra gave her, and +hearing her own language about her all day long. Here she could +wear her nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, listen +to Ivar reading the Bible, and here she could run about among the +stables in a pair of Emil's old boots. Though she was bent almost +double, she was as spry as a gopher. Her face was as brown as if +it had been varnished, and as full of wrinkles as a washerwoman's +hands. She had three jolly old teeth left in the front of her +mouth, and when she grinned she looked very knowing, as if when +you found out how to take it, life wasn't half bad. While she and +Alexandra patched and pieced and quilted, she talked incessantly +about stories she read in a Swedish family paper, telling the plots +in great detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in Gottland +when she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot which were the printed +stories and which were the real stories, it all seemed so far away. +She loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, before +she went to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. "It +sends good dreams," she would say with a twinkle in her eye. + +When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for a week, Marie Shabata +telephoned one morning to say that Frank had gone to town for the +day, and she would like them to come over for coffee in the afternoon. +Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out and iron her new cross-stitched apron, +which she had finished only the night before; a checked gingham +apron worked with a design ten inches broad across the bottom; +a hunting scene, with fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen. +Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and refused a second +helping of apple dumplings. "I ta-ank I save up," she said with +a giggle. + +At two o'clock in the afternoon Alexandra's cart drove up to the +Shabatas' gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee's red shawl come bobbing up +the path. She ran to the door and pulled the old woman into the +house with a hug, helping her to take off her wraps while Alexandra +blanketed the horse outside. Mrs. Lee had put on her best black +satine dress--she abominated woolen stuffs, even in winter--and +a crocheted collar, fastened with a big pale gold pin, containing +faded daguerreotypes of her father and mother. She had not worn +her apron for fear of rumpling it, and now she shook it out and +tied it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie drew back and +threw up her hands, exclaiming, "Oh, what a beauty! I've never +seen this one before, have I, Mrs. Lee?" + +The old woman giggled and ducked her head. "No, yust las' night I +ma-ake. See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My +sister send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis." + +Marie ran to the door again. "Come in, Alexandra. I have been +looking at Mrs. Lee's apron. Do stop on your way home and show it +to Mrs. Hiller. She's crazy about cross-stitch." + +While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, Mrs. Lee went out to the +kitchen and settled herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove, +looking with great interest at the table, set for three, with a white +cloth, and a pot of pink geraniums in the middle. "My, a-an't you +gotta fine plants; such-a much flower. How you keep from freeze?" + +She pointed to the window-shelves, full of blooming fuchsias and +geraniums. + +"I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it's very cold I put +them all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights I +only put newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing, +but when they don't bloom he says, 'What's the matter with the +darned things?'--What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?" + +"He got to Dawson before the river froze, and now I suppose I won't +hear any more until spring. Before he left California he sent me +a box of orange flowers, but they didn't keep very well. I have +brought a bunch of Emil's letters for you." Alexandra came out +from the sitting-room and pinched Marie's cheek playfully. "You +don't look as if the weather ever froze you up. Never have colds, +do you? That's a good girl. She had dark red cheeks like this +when she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She looked like some queer +foreign kind of a doll. I've never forgot the first time I saw +you in Mieklejohn's store, Marie, the time father was lying sick. +Carl and I were talking about that before he went away." + +"I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. When are you going to +send Emil's Christmas box?" + +"It ought to have gone before this. I'll have to send it by mail +now, to get it there in time." + +Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbasket. "I +knit this for him. It's a good color, don't you think? Will you +please put it in with your things and tell him it's from me, to +wear when he goes serenading." + +Alexandra laughed. "I don't believe he goes serenading much. He +says in one letter that the Mexican ladies are said to be very +beautiful, but that don't seem to me very warm praise." + +Marie tossed her head. "Emil can't fool me. If he's bought a +guitar, he goes serenading. Who wouldn't, with all those Spanish +girls dropping flowers down from their windows! I'd sing to them +every night, wouldn't you, Mrs. Lee?" + +The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent down and +opened the oven door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the +tidy kitchen. "My, somet'ing smell good!" She turned to Alexandra +with a wink, her three yellow teeth making a brave show, "I ta-ank +dat stop my yaw from ache no more!" she said contentedly. + +Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, stuffed with stewed +apricots, and began to dust them over with powdered sugar. "I hope +you'll like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians always +like them with their coffee. But if you don't, I have a coffee-cake +with nuts and poppy seeds. Alexandra, will you get the cream jug? +I put it in the window to keep cool." + +"The Bohemians," said Alexandra, as they drew up to the table, +"certainly know how to make more kinds of bread than any other +people in the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the church +supper that she could make seven kinds of fancy bread, but Marie +could make a dozen." + +Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumb +and forefinger and weighed it critically. "Yust like-a fedders," +she pronounced with satisfaction. "My, a-an't dis nice!" she +exclaimed as she stirred her coffee. "I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly +now, too, I ta-ank." + +Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell to +talking of their own affairs. "I was afraid you had a cold when +I talked to you over the telephone the other night, Marie. What +was the matter, had you been crying?" + +"Maybe I had," Marie smiled guiltily. "Frank was out late that +night. Don't you get lonely sometimes in the winter, when everybody +has gone away?" + +"I thought it was something like that. If I hadn't had company, +I'd have run over to see for myself. If you get down-hearted, what +will become of the rest of us?" Alexandra asked. + +"I don't, very often. There's Mrs. Lee without any coffee!" + +Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marie +and Alexandra went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the +old lady wanted to borrow. "Better put on your coat, Alexandra. +It's cold up there, and I have no idea where those patterns are. I +may have to look through my old trunks." Marie caught up a shawl +and opened the stair door, running up the steps ahead of her guest. +"While I go through the bureau drawers, you might look in those +hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over where Frank's clothes hang. +There are a lot of odds and ends in them." + +She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandra +went into the clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding a +slender elastic yellow stick in her hand. + +"What in the world is this, Marie? You don't mean to tell me Frank +ever carried such a thing?" + +Marie blinked at it with astonishment and sat down on the floor. +"Where did you find it? I didn't know he had kept it. I haven't +seen it for years." + +"It really is a cane, then?" + +"Yes. One he brought from the old country. He used to carry it +when I first knew him. Isn't it foolish? Poor Frank!" + +Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. "He must +have looked funny!" + +Marie was thoughtful. "No, he didn't, really. It didn't seem out +of place. He used to be awfully gay like that when he was a young +man. I guess people always get what's hardest for them, Alexandra." +Marie gathered the shawl closer about her and still looked hard at +the cane. "Frank would be all right in the right place," she said +reflectively. "He ought to have a different kind of wife, for one +thing. Do you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly the right +sort of woman for Frank--now. The trouble is you almost have +to marry a man before you can find out the sort of wife he needs; +and usually it's exactly the sort you are not. Then what are you +going to do about it?" she asked candidly. + +Alexandra confessed she didn't know. "However," she added, "it +seems to me that you get along with Frank about as well as any +woman I've ever seen or heard of could." + +Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and blowing her warm breath +softly out into the frosty air. "No; I was spoiled at home. I +like my own way, and I have a quick tongue. When Frank brags, I +say sharp things, and he never forgets. He goes over and over it +in his mind; I can feel him. Then I'm too giddy. Frank's wife +ought to be timid, and she ought not to care about another living +thing in the world but just Frank! I didn't, when I married him, +but I suppose I was too young to stay like that." Marie sighed. + +Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so frankly about her husband +before, and she felt that it was wiser not to encourage her. No +good, she reasoned, ever came from talking about such things, and +while Marie was thinking aloud, Alexandra had been steadily searching +the hat-boxes. "Aren't these the patterns, Maria?" + +Maria sprang up from the floor. "Sure enough, we were looking +for patterns, weren't we? I'd forgot about everything but Frank's +other wife. I'll put that away." + +She poked the cane behind Frank's Sunday clothes, and though she +laughed, Alexandra saw there were tears in her eyes. + +When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall, +and Marie's visitors thought they must be getting home. She went +out to the cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs. +Lee while Alexandra took the blanket off her horse. As they drove +away, Marie turned and went slowly back to the house. She took up +the package of letters Alexandra had brought, but she did not read +them. She turned them over and looked at the foreign stamps, and +then sat watching the flying snow while the dusk deepened in the +kitchen and the stove sent out a red glow. + +Marie knew perfectly well that Emil's letters were written more for +her than for Alexandra. They were not the sort of letters that a +young man writes to his sister. They were both more personal and +more painstaking; full of descriptions of the gay life in the old +Mexican capital in the days when the strong hand of Porfirio Diaz +was still strong. He told about bull-fights and cock-fights, +churches and FIESTAS, the flower-markets and the fountains, the +music and dancing, the people of all nations he met in the Italian +restaurants on San Francisco Street. In short, they were the kind +of letters a young man writes to a woman when he wishes himself +and his life to seem interesting to her, when he wishes to enlist +her imagination in his behalf. + +Marie, when she was alone or when she sat sewing in the evening, +often thought about what it must be like down there where Emil was; +where there were flowers and street bands everywhere, and carriages +rattling up and down, and where there was a little blind boot-black +in front of the cathedral who could play any tune you asked for +by dropping the lids of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When +everything is done and over for one at twenty-three, it is pleasant +to let the mind wander forth and follow a young adventurer who has +life before him. "And if it had not been for me," she thought, +"Frank might still be free like that, and having a good time making +people admire him. Poor Frank, getting married wasn't very good +for him either. I'm afraid I do set people against him, as he says. +I seem, somehow, to give him away all the time. Perhaps he would +try to be agreeable to people again, if I were not around. It +seems as if I always make him just as bad as he can be." + +Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon as +the last satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After that +day the younger woman seemed to shrink more and more into herself. +When she was with Alexandra she was not spontaneous and frank +as she used to be. She seemed to be brooding over something, and +holding something back. The weather had a good deal to do with +their seeing less of each other than usual. There had not been +such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path across the fields was +drifted deep from Christmas until March. When the two neighbors +went to see each other, they had to go round by the wagon-road, +which was twice as far. They telephoned each other almost every +night, though in January there was a stretch of three weeks when +the wires were down, and when the postman did not come at all. + +Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. Hiller, +who was crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lame +shoemaker, to take care of her; and she went to the French Church, +whatever the weather. She was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed +for herself and for Frank, and for Emil, among the temptations of +that gay, corrupt old city. She found more comfort in the Church +that winter than ever before. It seemed to come closer to her, +and to fill an emptiness that ached in her heart. She tried to +be patient with her husband. He and his hired man usually played +California Jack in the evening. Marie sat sewing or crocheting and +tried to take a friendly interest in the game, but she was always +thinking about the wide fields outside, where the snow was drifting +over the fences; and about the orchard, where the snow was falling +and packing, crust over crust. When she went out into the dark +kitchen to fix her plants for the night, she used to stand by the +window and look out at the white fields, or watch the currents of +snow whirling over the orchard. She seemed to feel the weight of +all the snow that lay down there. The branches had become so hard +that they wounded your hand if you but tried to break a twig. And +yet, down under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, the +secret of life was still safe, warm as the blood in one's heart; +and the spring would come again! Oh, it would come again! + + + + +II + +If Alexandra had had much imagination she might have guessed what +was going on in Marie's mind, and she would have seen long before +what was going on in Emil's. But that, as Emil himself had more +than once reflected, was Alexandra's blind side, and her life had +not been of the kind to sharpen her vision. Her training had all +been toward the end of making her proficient in what she had undertaken +to do. Her personal life, her own realization of herself, was +almost a subconscious existence; like an underground river that +came to the surface only here and there, at intervals months apart, +and then sank again to flow on under her own fields. Nevertheless, +the underground stream was there, and it was because she had so much +personality to put into her enterprises and succeeded in putting +it into them so completely, that her affairs prospered better than +those of her neighbors. + +There were certain days in her life, outwardly uneventful, which +Alexandra remembered as peculiarly happy; days when she was close +to the flat, fallow world about her, and felt, as it were, in her +own body the joyous germination in the soil. There were days, +too, which she and Emil had spent together, upon which she loved +to look back. There had been such a day when they were down on +the river in the dry year, looking over the land. They had made +an early start one morning and had driven a long way before noon. +When Emil said he was hungry, they drew back from the road, gave +Brigham his oats among the bushes, and climbed up to the top of a +grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the shade of some little elm +trees. The river was clear there, and shallow, since there had +been no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling sand. Under +the overhanging willows of the opposite bank there was an inlet where +the water was deeper and flowed so slowly that it seemed to sleep +in the sun. In this little bay a single wild duck was swimming and +diving and preening her feathers, disporting herself very happily +in the flickering light and shade. They sat for a long time, +watching the solitary bird take its pleasure. No living thing +had ever seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild duck. Emil +must have felt about it as she did, for afterward, when they were +at home, he used sometimes to say, "Sister, you know our duck down +there--" Alexandra remembered that day as one of the happiest in +her life. Years afterward she thought of the duck as still there, +swimming and diving all by herself in the sunlight, a kind of +enchanted bird that did not know age or change. + +Most of Alexandra's happy memories were as impersonal as this one; +yet to her they were very personal. Her mind was a white book, +with clear writing about weather and beasts and growing things. +Not many people would have cared to read it; only a happy few. +She had never been in love, she had never indulged in sentimental +reveries. Even as a girl she had looked upon men as work-fellows. +She had grown up in serious times. + +There was one fancy indeed, which persisted through her girlhood. +It most often came to her on Sunday mornings, the one day in +the week when she lay late abed listening to the familiar morning +sounds; the windmill singing in the brisk breeze, Emil whistling +as he blacked his boots down by the kitchen door. Sometimes, as +she lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes closed, she used to have +an illusion of being lifted up bodily and carried lightly by some +one very strong. It was a man, certainly, who carried her, but +he was like no man she knew; he was much larger and stronger and +swifter, and he carried her as easily as if she were a sheaf of +wheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes closed, she could feel +that he was yellow like the sunlight, and there was the smell of +ripe cornfields about him. She could feel him approach, bend over +her and lift her, and then she could feel herself being carried +swiftly off across the fields. After such a reverie she would rise +hastily, angry with herself, and go down to the bath-house that +was partitioned off the kitchen shed. There she would stand in a +tin tub and prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by pouring +buckets of cold well-water over her gleaming white body which no +man on the Divide could have carried very far. + +As she grew older, this fancy more often came to her when she was +tired than when she was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had +been in the open all day, overseeing the branding of the cattle or +the loading of the pigs, she would come in chilled, take a concoction +of spices and warm home-made wine, and go to bed with her body +actually aching with fatigue. Then, just before she went to sleep, +she had the old sensation of being lifted and carried by a strong +being who took from her all her bodily weariness. + + + + +PART IV. The White Mulberry Tree + + + + +I + +The French Church, properly the Church of Sainte-Agnes, stood +upon a hill. The high, narrow, red-brick building, with its tall +steeple and steep roof, could be seen for miles across the wheatfields, +though the little town of Sainte-Agnes was completely hidden away +at the foot of the hill. The church looked powerful and triumphant +there on its eminence, so high above the rest of the landscape, +with miles of warm color lying at its feet, and by its position and +setting it reminded one of some of the churches built long ago in +the wheat-lands of middle France. + +Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson was driving along one +of the many roads that led through the rich French farming country +to the big church. The sunlight was shining directly in her face, +and there was a blaze of light all about the red church on the +hill. Beside Alexandra lounged a strikingly exotic figure in a +tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, and a black velvet jacket sewn with +silver buttons. Emil had returned only the night before, and his +sister was so proud of him that she decided at once to take him up +to the church supper, and to make him wear the Mexican costume he +had brought home in his trunk. "All the girls who have stands are +going to wear fancy costumes," she argued, "and some of the boys. +Marie is going to tell fortunes, and she sent to Omaha for a Bohemian +dress her father brought back from a visit to the old country. +If you wear those clothes, they will all be pleased. And you must +take your guitar. Everybody ought to do what they can to help +along, and we have never done much. We are not a talented family." + +The supper was to be at six o'clock, in the basement of the church, +and afterward there would be a fair, with charades and an auction. +Alexandra had set out from home early, leaving the house to Signa +and Nelse Jensen, who were to be married next week. Signa had +shyly asked to have the wedding put off until Emil came home. + +Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. As they drove +through the rolling French country toward the westering sun and the +stalwart church, she was thinking of that time long ago when she +and Emil drove back from the river valley to the still unconquered +Divide. Yes, she told herself, it had been worth while; both Emil +and the country had become what she had hoped. Out of her father's +children there was one who was fit to cope with the world, who had +not been tied to the plow, and who had a personality apart from the +soil. And that, she reflected, was what she had worked for. She +felt well satisfied with her life. + +When they reached the church, a score of teams were hitched in +front of the basement doors that opened from the hillside upon the +sanded terrace, where the boys wrestled and had jumping-matches. +Amedee Chevalier, a proud father of one week, rushed out and +embraced Emil. Amedee was an only son,--hence he was a very rich +young man,--but he meant to have twenty children himself, like +his uncle Xavier. "Oh, Emil," he cried, hugging his old friend +rapturously, "why ain't you been up to see my boy? You come +to-morrow, sure? Emil, you wanna get a boy right off! It's the +greatest thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick at all. Everything +just fine. That boy he come into this world laughin', and he been +laughin' ever since. You come an' see!" He pounded Emil's ribs +to emphasize each announcement. + +Emil caught his arms. "Stop, Amedee. You're knocking the wind out +of me. I brought him cups and spoons and blankets and moccasins +enough for an orphan asylum. I'm awful glad it's a boy, sure +enough!" + +The young men crowded round Emil to admire his costume and to tell +him in a breath everything that had happened since he went away. +Emil had more friends up here in the French country than down on +Norway Creek. The French and Bohemian boys were spirited and jolly, +liked variety, and were as much predisposed to favor anything new +as the Scandinavian boys were to reject it. The Norwegian and +Swedish lads were much more self-centred, apt to be egotistical +and jealous. They were cautious and reserved with Emil because he +had been away to college, and were prepared to take him down if he +should try to put on airs with them. The French boys liked a bit +of swagger, and they were always delighted to hear about anything +new: new clothes, new games, new songs, new dances. Now they +carried Emil off to show him the club room they had just fitted up +over the post-office, down in the village. They ran down the hill +in a drove, all laughing and chattering at once, some in French, +some in English. + +Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed basement where the women +were setting the tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building +a little tent of shawls where she was to tell fortunes. She sprang +down and ran toward Alexandra, stopping short and looking at her +in disappointment. Alexandra nodded to her encouragingly. + +"Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have taken him off to show +him something. You won't know him. He is a man now, sure enough. +I have no boy left. He smokes terrible-smelling Mexican cigarettes +and talks Spanish. How pretty you look, child. Where did you get +those beautiful earrings?" + +"They belonged to father's mother. He always promised them to me. +He sent them with the dress and said I could keep them." + +Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven cloth, a white bodice +and kirtle, a yellow silk turban wound low over her brown curls, +and long coral pendants in her ears. Her ears had been pierced +against a piece of cork by her great-aunt when she was seven years +old. In those germless days she had worn bits of broom-straw, plucked +from the common sweeping-broom, in the lobes until the holes were +healed and ready for little gold rings. + +When Emil came back from the village, he lingered outside on the +terrace with the boys. Marie could hear him talking and strumming +on his guitar while Raoul Marcel sang falsetto. She was vexed +with him for staying out there. It made her very nervous to hear +him and not to see him; for, certainly, she told herself, she was +not going out to look for him. When the supper bell rang and the +boys came trooping in to get seats at the first table, she forgot +all about her annoyance and ran to greet the tallest of the crowd, +in his conspicuous attire. She didn't mind showing her embarrassment +at all. She blushed and laughed excitedly as she gave Emil her +hand, and looked delightedly at the black velvet coat that brought +out his fair skin and fine blond head. Marie was incapable of being +lukewarm about anything that pleased her. She simply did not know +how to give a half-hearted response. When she was delighted, she +was as likely as not to stand on her tip-toes and clap her hands. +If people laughed at her, she laughed with them. + +"Do the men wear clothes like that every day, in the street?" She +caught Emil by his sleeve and turned him about. "Oh, I wish I lived +where people wore things like that! Are the buttons real silver? +Put on the hat, please. What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear +it? Why don't you tell us about the bull-fights?" + +She wanted to wring all his experiences from him at once, without +waiting a moment. Emil smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at +her with his old, brooding gaze, while the French girls fluttered +about him in their white dresses and ribbons, and Alexandra watched +the scene with pride. Several of the French girls, Marie knew, were +hoping that Emil would take them to supper, and she was relieved +when he took only his sister. Marie caught Frank's arm and dragged +him to the same table, managing to get seats opposite the Bergsons, +so that she could hear what they were talking about. Alexandra +made Emil tell Mrs. Xavier Chevalier, the mother of the twenty, +about how he had seen a famous matador killed in the bull-ring. +Marie listened to every word, only taking her eyes from Emil to +watch Frank's plate and keep it filled. When Emil finished his +account,--bloody enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier and to make her +feel thankful that she was not a matador,--Marie broke out with +a volley of questions. How did the women dress when they went to +bull-fights? Did they wear mantillas? Did they never wear hats? + +After supper the young people played charades for the amusement +of their elders, who sat gossiping between their guesses. All the +shops in Sainte-Agnes were closed at eight o'clock that night, so +that the merchants and their clerks could attend the fair. The +auction was the liveliest part of the entertainment, for the French +boys always lost their heads when they began to bid, satisfied that +their extravagance was in a good cause. After all the pincushions +and sofa pillows and embroidered slippers were sold, Emil precipitated +a panic by taking out one of his turquoise shirt studs, which every +one had been admiring, and handing it to the auctioneer. All the +French girls clamored for it, and their sweethearts bid against +each other recklessly. Marie wanted it, too, and she kept making +signals to Frank, which he took a sour pleasure in disregarding. +He didn't see the use of making a fuss over a fellow just because +he was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise went to Malvina +Sauvage, the French banker's daughter, Marie shrugged her shoulders +and betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where she began +to shuffle her cards by the light of a tallow candle, calling out, +"Fortunes, fortunes!" + +The young priest, Father Duchesne, went first to have his fortune +read. Marie took his long white hand, looked at it, and then +began to run off her cards. "I see a long journey across water for +you, Father. You will go to a town all cut up by water; built on +islands, it seems to be, with rivers and green fields all about. +And you will visit an old lady with a white cap and gold hoops in +her ears, and you will be very happy there." + +"Mais, oui," said the priest, with a melancholy smile. "C'est +L'Isle-Adam, chez ma mere. Vous etes tres savante, ma fille." He +patted her yellow turban, calling, "Venez donc, mes garcons! Il +y a ici une veritable clairvoyante!" + +Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulging in a light irony +that amused the crowd. She told old Brunot, the miser, that he +would lose all his money, marry a girl of sixteen, and live happily +on a crust. Sholte, the fat Russian boy, who lived for his stomach, +was to be disappointed in love, grow thin, and shoot himself from +despondency. Amedee was to have twenty children, and nineteen of +them were to be girls. Amedee slapped Frank on the back and asked +him why he didn't see what the fortune-teller would promise him. +But Frank shook off his friendly hand and grunted, "She tell my +fortune long ago; bad enough!" Then he withdrew to a corner and +sat glowering at his wife. + +Frank's case was all the more painful because he had no one +in particular to fix his jealousy upon. Sometimes he could have +thanked the man who would bring him evidence against his wife. +He had discharged a good farm-boy, Jan Smirka, because he thought +Marie was fond of him; but she had not seemed to miss Jan when +he was gone, and she had been just as kind to the next boy. The +farm-hands would always do anything for Marie; Frank couldn't find +one so surly that he would not make an effort to please her. At +the bottom of his heart Frank knew well enough that if he could once +give up his grudge, his wife would come back to him. But he could +never in the world do that. The grudge was fundamental. Perhaps +he could not have given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he got more +satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than he would have got +out of being loved. If he could once have made Marie thoroughly +unhappy, he might have relented and raised her from the dust. But +she had never humbled herself. In the first days of their love +she had been his slave; she had admired him abandonedly. But the +moment he began to bully her and to be unjust, she began to draw +away; at first in tearful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken disgust. +The distance between them had widened and hardened. It no longer +contracted and brought them suddenly together. The spark of her +life went somewhere else, and he was always watching to surprise +it. He knew that somewhere she must get a feeling to live upon, +for she was not a woman who could live without loving. He wanted +to prove to himself the wrong he felt. What did she hide in her +heart? Where did it go? Even Frank had his churlish delicacies; +he never reminded her of how much she had once loved him. For that +Marie was grateful to him. + +While Marie was chattering to the French boys, Amedee called Emil +to the back of the room and whispered to him that they were going +to play a joke on the girls. At eleven o'clock, Amedee was to go +up to the switchboard in the vestibule and turn off the electric +lights, and every boy would have a chance to kiss his sweetheart +before Father Duchesne could find his way up the stairs to turn the +current on again. The only difficulty was the candle in Marie's +tent; perhaps, as Emil had no sweetheart, he would oblige the boys +by blowing out the candle. Emil said he would undertake to do +that. + +At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to Marie's booth, and +the French boys dispersed to find their girls. He leaned over the +card-table and gave himself up to looking at her. "Do you think +you could tell my fortune?" he murmured. It was the first word he +had had alone with her for almost a year. "My luck hasn't changed +any. It's just the same." + +Marie had often wondered whether there was anyone else who could +look his thoughts to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met his +steady, powerful eyes, it was impossible not to feel the sweetness +of the dream he was dreaming; it reached her before she could shut +it out, and hid itself in her heart. She began to shuffle her +cards furiously. "I'm angry with you, Emil," she broke out with +petulance. "Why did you give them that lovely blue stone to sell? +You might have known Frank wouldn't buy it for me, and I wanted it +awfully!" + +Emil laughed shortly. "People who want such little things surely +ought to have them," he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the +pocket of his velvet trousers and brought out a handful of uncut +turquoises, as big as marbles. Leaning over the table he dropped +them into her lap. "There, will those do? Be careful, don't let +any one see them. Now, I suppose you want me to go away and let +you play with them?" + +Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue color of the stones. +"Oh, Emil! Is everything down there beautiful like these? How +could you ever come away?" + +At that instant Amedee laid hands on the switchboard. There was a +shiver and a giggle, and every one looked toward the red blur that +Marie's candle made in the dark. Immediately that, too, was gone. +Little shrieks and currents of soft laughter ran up and down the +dark hall. Marie started up,--directly into Emil's arms. In the +same instant she felt his lips. The veil that had hung uncertainly +between them for so long was dissolved. Before she knew what she +was doing, she had committed herself to that kiss that was at once +a boy's and a man's, as timid as it was tender; so like Emil and +so unlike any one else in the world. Not until it was over did +she realize what it meant. And Emil, who had so often imagined +the shock of this first kiss, was surprised at its gentleness and +naturalness. It was like a sigh which they had breathed together; +almost sorrowful, as if each were afraid of wakening something in +the other. + +When the lights came on again, everybody was laughing and shouting, +and all the French girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only +Marie, in her little tent of shawls, was pale and quiet. Under her +yellow turban the red coral pendants swung against white cheeks. +Frank was still staring at her, but he seemed to see nothing. Years +ago, he himself had had the power to take the blood from her cheeks +like that. Perhaps he did not remember--perhaps he had never +noticed! Emil was already at the other end of the hall, walking +about with the shoulder-motion he had acquired among the Mexicans, +studying the floor with his intent, deep-set eyes. Marie began to +take down and fold her shawls. She did not glance up again. The +young people drifted to the other end of the hall where the guitar +was sounding. In a moment she heard Emil and Raoul singing:-- + + +"Across the Rio Grand-e There lies a sunny land-e, My bright-eyed +Mexico!" + + +Alexandra Bergson came up to the card booth. "Let me help you, +Marie. You look tired." + +She placed her hand on Marie's arm and felt her shiver. Marie +stiffened under that kind, calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed +and hurt. + +There was about Alexandra something of the impervious calm of the +fatalist, always disconcerting to very young people, who cannot +feel that the heart lives at all unless it is still at the mercy +of storms; unless its strings can scream to the touch of pain. + + + + +II + +Signa's wedding supper was over. The guests, and the tiresome +little Norwegian preacher who had performed the marriage ceremony, +were saying good-night. Old Ivar was hitching the horses to the +wagon to take the wedding presents and the bride and groom up to +their new home, on Alexandra's north quarter. When Ivar drove up +to the gate, Emil and Marie Shabata began to carry out the presents, +and Alexandra went into her bedroom to bid Signa good-bye and to +give her a few words of good counsel. She was surprised to find +that the bride had changed her slippers for heavy shoes and was +pinning up her skirts. At that moment Nelse appeared at the gate +with the two milk cows that Alexandra had given Signa for a wedding +present. + +Alexandra began to laugh. "Why, Signa, you and Nelse are to ride +home. I'll send Ivar over with the cows in the morning." + +Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When her husband called her, +she pinned her hat on resolutely. "I ta-ank I better do yust like +he say," she murmured in confusion. + +Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to the gate and saw the +party set off, old Ivar driving ahead in the wagon and the bride +and groom following on foot, each leading a cow. Emil burst into +a laugh before they were out of hearing. + +"Those two will get on," said Alexandra as they turned back to the +house. "They are not going to take any chances. They will feel +safer with those cows in their own stable. Marie, I am going to +send for an old woman next. As soon as I get the girls broken in, +I marry them off." + +"I've no patience with Signa, marrying that grumpy fellow!" Marie +declared. "I wanted her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked +for us last winter. I think she liked him, too." + +"Yes, I think she did," Alexandra assented, "but I suppose she was +too much afraid of Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think +of it, most of my girls have married men they were afraid of. I +believe there is a good deal of the cow in most Swedish girls. +You high-strung Bohemian can't understand us. We're a terribly +practical people, and I guess we think a cross man makes a good +manager." + +Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to pin up a lock of hair +that had fallen on her neck. Somehow Alexandra had irritated her +of late. Everybody irritated her. She was tired of everybody. "I'm +going home alone, Emil, so you needn't get your hat," she said as +she wound her scarf quickly about her head. "Good-night, Alexandra," +she called back in a strained voice, running down the gravel walk. + +Emil followed with long strides until he overtook her. Then she began +to walk slowly. It was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, +and the fireflies were glimmering over the wheat. + +"Marie," said Emil after they had walked for a while, "I wonder if +you know how unhappy I am?" + +Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its white scarf, drooped +forward a little. + +Emil kicked a clod from the path and went on:-- + +"I wonder whether you are really shallow-hearted, like you seem? +Sometimes I think one boy does just as well as another for you. +It never seems to make much difference whether it is me or Raoul +Marcel or Jan Smirka. Are you really like that?" + +"Perhaps I am. What do you want me to do? Sit round and cry all +day? When I've cried until I can't cry any more, then--then I must +do something else." + +"Are you sorry for me?" he persisted. + +"No, I'm not. If I were big and free like you, I wouldn't let +anything make me unhappy. As old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, +I wouldn't go lovering after no woman. I'd take the first train +and go off and have all the fun there is." + +"I tried that, but it didn't do any good. Everything reminded me. +The nicer the place was, the more I wanted you." They had come to +the stile and Emil pointed to it persuasively. "Sit down a moment, +I want to ask you something." Marie sat down on the top step and +Emil drew nearer. "Would you tell me something that's none of my +business if you thought it would help me out? Well, then, tell +me, PLEASE tell me, why you ran away with Frank Shabata!" + +Marie drew back. "Because I was in love with him," she said firmly. + +"Really?" he asked incredulously. + +"Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. I think I was the one +who suggested our running away. From the first it was more my +fault than his." + +Emil turned away his face. + +"And now," Marie went on, "I've got to remember that. Frank is +just the same now as he was then, only then I would see him as I +wanted him to be. I would have my own way. And now I pay for it." + +"You don't do all the paying." + +"That's it. When one makes a mistake, there's no telling where +it will stop. But you can go away; you can leave all this behind +you." + +"Not everything. I can't leave you behind. Will you go away with +me, Marie?" + +Marie started up and stepped across the stile. "Emil! How wickedly +you talk! I am not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But what +am I going to do if you keep tormenting me like this!" she added +plaintively. + +"Marie, I won't bother you any more if you will tell me just +one thing. Stop a minute and look at me. No, nobody can see us. +Everybody's asleep. That was only a firefly. Marie, STOP and tell +me!" + +Emil overtook her and catching her by the shoulders shook her +gently, as if he were trying to awaken a sleepwalker. + +Marie hid her face on his arm. "Don't ask me anything more. I +don't know anything except how miserable I am. And I thought it +would be all right when you came back. Oh, Emil," she clutched his +sleeve and began to cry, "what am I to do if you don't go away? I +can't go, and one of us must. Can't you see?" + +Emil stood looking down at her, holding his shoulders stiff and +stiffening the arm to which she clung. Her white dress looked +gray in the darkness. She seemed like a troubled spirit, like some +shadow out of the earth, clinging to him and entreating him to give +her peace. Behind her the fireflies were weaving in and out over +the wheat. He put his hand on her bent head. "On my honor, Marie, +if you will say you love me, I will go away." + +She lifted her face to his. "How could I help it? Didn't you +know?" + +Emil was the one who trembled, through all his frame. After he +left Marie at her gate, he wandered about the fields all night, +till morning put out the fireflies and the stars. + + + + +III + +One evening, a week after Signa's wedding, Emil was kneeling before +a box in the sitting-room, packing his books. From time to time +he rose and wandered about the house, picking up stray volumes and +bringing them listlessly back to his box. He was packing without +enthusiasm. He was not very sanguine about his future. Alexandra +sat sewing by the table. She had helped him pack his trunk in +the afternoon. As Emil came and went by her chair with his books, +he thought to himself that it had not been so hard to leave his +sister since he first went away to school. He was going directly +to Omaha, to read law in the office of a Swedish lawyer until +October, when he would enter the law school at Ann Arbor. They +had planned that Alexandra was to come to Michigan--a long journey +for her--at Christmas time, and spend several weeks with him. +Nevertheless, he felt that this leave-taking would be more final +than his earlier ones had been; that it meant a definite break with +his old home and the beginning of something new--he did not know +what. His ideas about the future would not crystallize; the more +he tried to think about it, the vaguer his conception of it became. +But one thing was clear, he told himself; it was high time that he +made good to Alexandra, and that ought to be incentive enough to +begin with. + +As he went about gathering up his books he felt as if he were +uprooting things. At last he threw himself down on the old slat +lounge where he had slept when he was little, and lay looking up +at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. + +"Tired, Emil?" his sister asked. + +"Lazy," he murmured, turning on his side and looking at her. He +studied Alexandra's face for a long time in the lamplight. It had +never occurred to him that his sister was a handsome woman until +Marie Shabata had told him so. Indeed, he had never thought of +her as being a woman at all, only a sister. As he studied her bent +head, he looked up at the picture of John Bergson above the lamp. +"No," he thought to himself, "she didn't get it there. I suppose +I am more like that." + +"Alexandra," he said suddenly, "that old walnut secretary you use +for a desk was father's, wasn't it?" + +Alexandra went on stitching. "Yes. It was one of the first things +he bought for the old log house. It was a great extravagance +in those days. But he wrote a great many letters back to the old +country. He had many friends there, and they wrote to him up to the +time he died. No one ever blamed him for grandfather's disgrace. +I can see him now, sitting there on Sundays, in his white shirt, +writing pages and pages, so carefully. He wrote a fine, regular +hand, almost like engraving. Yours is something like his, when +you take pains." + +"Grandfather was really crooked, was he?" + +"He married an unscrupulous woman, and then--then I'm afraid he +was really crooked. When we first came here father used to have +dreams about making a great fortune and going back to Sweden to +pay back to the poor sailors the money grandfather had lost." + +Emil stirred on the lounge. "I say, that would have been worth +while, wouldn't it? Father wasn't a bit like Lou or Oscar, was +he? I can't remember much about him before he got sick." + +"Oh, not at all!" Alexandra dropped her sewing on her knee. "He +had better opportunities; not to make money, but to make something +of himself. He was a quiet man, but he was very intelligent. You +would have been proud of him, Emil." + +Alexandra felt that he would like to know there had been a man of +his kin whom he could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed of +Lou and Oscar, because they were bigoted and self-satisfied. He +never said much about them, but she could feel his disgust. His +brothers had shown their disapproval of him ever since he first +went away to school. The only thing that would have satisfied them +would have been his failure at the University. As it was, they +resented every change in his speech, in his dress, in his point of +view; though the latter they had to conjecture, for Emil avoided +talking to them about any but family matters. All his interests +they treated as affectations. + +Alexandra took up her sewing again. "I can remember father when +he was quite a young man. He belonged to some kind of a musical +society, a male chorus, in Stockholm. I can remember going with +mother to hear them sing. There must have been a hundred of them, +and they all wore long black coats and white neckties. I was +used to seeing father in a blue coat, a sort of jacket, and when I +recognized him on the platform, I was very proud. Do you remember +that Swedish song he taught you, about the ship boy?" + +"Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. They like anything +different." Emil paused. "Father had a hard fight here, didn't +he?" he added thoughtfully. + +"Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he had hope. He believed +in the land." + +"And in you, I guess," Emil said to himself. There was another +period of silence; that warm, friendly silence, full of perfect +understanding, in which Emil and Alexandra had spent many of their +happiest half-hours. + +At last Emil said abruptly, "Lou and Oscar would be better off if +they were poor, wouldn't they?" + +Alexandra smiled. "Maybe. But their children wouldn't. I have +great hopes of Milly." + +Emil shivered. "I don't know. Seems to me it gets worse as it +goes on. The worst of the Swedes is that they're never willing +to find out how much they don't know. It was like that at the +University. Always so pleased with themselves! There's no getting +behind that conceited Swedish grin. The Bohemians and Germans were +so different." + +"Come, Emil, don't go back on your own people. Father wasn't +conceited, Uncle Otto wasn't. Even Lou and Oscar weren't when they +were boys." + +Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dispute the point. He +turned on his back and lay still for a long time, his hands locked +under his head, looking up at the ceiling. Alexandra knew that he +was thinking of many things. She felt no anxiety about Emil. She +had always believed in him, as she had believed in the land. He +had been more like himself since he got back from Mexico; seemed +glad to be at home, and talked to her as he used to do. She had +no doubt that his wandering fit was over, and that he would soon +be settled in life. + +"Alexandra," said Emil suddenly, "do you remember the wild duck we +saw down on the river that time?" + +His sister looked up. "I often think of her. It always seems to +me she's there still, just like we saw her." + +"I know. It's queer what things one remembers and what things one +forgets." Emil yawned and sat up. "Well, it's time to turn in." +He rose, and going over to Alexandra stooped down and kissed her +lightly on the cheek. "Good-night, sister. I think you did pretty +well by us." + +Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. Alexandra sat finishing +his new nightshirt, that must go in the top tray of his trunk. + + + + +IV + +The next morning Angelique, Amedee's wife, was in the kitchen baking +pies, assisted by old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board +and the stove stood the old cradle that had been Amedee's, and in +it was his black-eyed son. As Angelique, flushed and excited, with +flour on her hands, stopped to smile at the baby, Emil Bergson rode +up to the kitchen door on his mare and dismounted. + +"'Medee is out in the field, Emil," Angelique called as she ran +across the kitchen to the oven. "He begins to cut his wheat to-day; +the first wheat ready to cut anywhere about here. He bought a new +header, you know, because all the wheat's so short this year. I +hope he can rent it to the neighbors, it cost so much. He and his +cousins bought a steam thresher on shares. You ought to go out and +see that header work. I watched it an hour this morning, busy as +I am with all the men to feed. He has a lot of hands, but he's +the only one that knows how to drive the header or how to run the +engine, so he has to be everywhere at once. He's sick, too, and +ought to be in his bed." + +Emil bent over Hector Baptiste, trying to make him blink his round, +bead-like black eyes. "Sick? What's the matter with your daddy, +kid? Been making him walk the floor with you?" + +Angelique sniffed. "Not much! We don't have that kind of babies. +It was his father that kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be +getting up and making mustard plasters to put on his stomach. He +had an awful colic. He said he felt better this morning, but I +don't think he ought to be out in the field, overheating himself." + +Angelique did not speak with much anxiety, not because she was +indifferent, but because she felt so secure in their good fortune. +Only good things could happen to a rich, energetic, handsome young +man like Amedee, with a new baby in the cradle and a new header in +the field. + +Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste's head. "I say, Angelique, +one of 'Medee's grandmothers, 'way back, must have been a squaw. +This kid looks exactly like the Indian babies." + +Angelique made a face at him, but old Mrs. Chevalier had been +touched on a sore point, and she let out such a stream of fiery +PATOIS that Emil fled from the kitchen and mounted his mare. + +Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, Emil rode across the field +to the clearing where the thresher stood, driven by a stationary +engine and fed from the header boxes. As Amedee was not on the +engine, Emil rode on to the wheatfield, where he recognized, on +the header, the slight, wiry figure of his friend, coatless, his +white shirt puffed out by the wind, his straw hat stuck jauntily +on the side of his head. The six big work-horses that drew, or +rather pushed, the header, went abreast at a rapid walk, and as they +were still green at the work they required a good deal of management +on Amedee's part; especially when they turned the corners, where +they divided, three and three, and then swung round into line again +with a movement that looked as complicated as a wheel of artillery. +Emil felt a new thrill of admiration for his friend, and with it +the old pang of envy at the way in which Amedee could do with his +might what his hand found to do, and feel that, whatever it was, +it was the most important thing in the world. "I'll have to bring +Alexandra up to see this thing work," Emil thought; "it's splendid!" + +When he saw Emil, Amedee waved to him and called to one of his +twenty cousins to take the reins. Stepping off the header without +stopping it, he ran up to Emil who had dismounted. "Come along," +he called. "I have to go over to the engine for a minute. I gotta +green man running it, and I gotta to keep an eye on him." + +Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed and more excited than +even the cares of managing a big farm at a critical time warranted. +As they passed behind a last year's stack, Amedee clutched at his +right side and sank down for a moment on the straw. + +"Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. Something's the matter +with my insides, for sure." + +Emil felt his fiery cheek. "You ought to go straight to bed, +'Medee, and telephone for the doctor; that's what you ought to do." + +Amedee staggered up with a gesture of despair. "How can I? I got +no time to be sick. Three thousand dollars' worth of new machinery +to manage, and the wheat so ripe it will begin to shatter next +week. My wheat's short, but it's gotta grand full berries. What's +he slowing down for? We haven't got header boxes enough to feed +the thresher, I guess." + +Amedee started hot-foot across the stubble, leaning a little to the +right as he ran, and waved to the engineer not to stop the engine. + +Emil saw that this was no time to talk about his own affairs. He +mounted his mare and rode on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends +there good-bye. He went first to see Raoul Marcel, and found him +innocently practising the "Gloria" for the big confirmation service +on Sunday while he polished the mirrors of his father's saloon. + +As Emil rode homewards at three o'clock in the afternoon, he saw +Amedee staggering out of the wheatfield, supported by two of his +cousins. Emil stopped and helped them put the boy to bed. + + + + +V + +When Frank Shabata came in from work at five o'clock that evening, +old Moses Marcel, Raoul's father, telephoned him that Amedee had +had a seizure in the wheatfield, and that Doctor Paradis was going +to operate on him as soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. +Frank dropped a word of this at the table, bolted his supper, and +rode off to Sainte-Agnes, where there would be sympathetic discussion +of Amedee's case at Marcel's saloon. + +As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned Alexandra. It was a +comfort to hear her friend's voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there +was to be known about Amedee. Emil had been there when they carried +him out of the field, and had stayed with him until the doctors +operated for appendicitis at five o'clock. They were afraid it +was too late to do much good; it should have been done three days +ago. Amedee was in a very bad way. Emil had just come home, worn +out and sick himself. She had given him some brandy and put him +to bed. + +Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amedee's illness had taken on a +new meaning to her, now that she knew Emil had been with him. And +it might so easily have been the other way--Emil who was ill and +Amedee who was sad! Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. +She had seldom felt so utterly lonely. If Emil was asleep, there +was not even a chance of his coming; and she could not go to +Alexandra for sympathy. She meant to tell Alexandra everything, +as soon as Emil went away. Then whatever was left between them +would be honest. + +But she could not stay in the house this evening. Where should she +go? She walked slowly down through the orchard, where the evening +air was heavy with the smell of wild cotton. The fresh, salty scent +of the wild roses had given way before this more powerful perfume +of midsummer. Wherever those ashes-of-rose balls hung on their +milky stalks, the air about them was saturated with their breath. +The sky was still red in the west and the evening star hung +directly over the Bergsons' wind-mill. Marie crossed the fence at +the wheatfield corner, and walked slowly along the path that led +to Alexandra's. She could not help feeling hurt that Emil had not +come to tell her about Amedee. It seemed to her most unnatural +that he should not have come. If she were in trouble, certainly +he was the one person in the world she would want to see. Perhaps +he wished her to understand that for her he was as good as gone +already. + +Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the path, like a white +night-moth out of the fields. The years seemed to stretch before +her like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always +the same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; +always the same yearning, the same pulling at the chain--until the +instinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last +time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously +be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted toward the remote, +inaccessible evening star. + +When she reached the stile she sat down and waited. How terrible +it was to love people when you could not really share their lives! + +Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was already gone. They +couldn't meet any more. There was nothing for them to say. They +had spent the last penny of their small change; there was nothing +left but gold. The day of love-tokens was past. They had now +only their hearts to give each other. And Emil being gone, what +was her life to be like? In some ways, it would be easier. She +would not, at least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were once +away and settled at work, she would not have the feeling that she +was spoiling his life. With the memory he left her, she could be +as rash as she chose. Nobody could be the worse for it but herself; +and that, surely, did not matter. Her own case was clear. When a +girl had loved one man, and then loved another while that man was +still alive, everybody knew what to think of her. What happened +to her was of little consequence, so long as she did not drag other +people down with her. Emil once away, she could let everything +else go and live a new life of perfect love. + +Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, after all, thought he +might come. And how glad she ought to be, she told herself, that +he was asleep. She left the path and went across the pasture. The +moon was almost full. An owl was hooting somewhere in the fields. +She had scarcely thought about where she was going when the pond +glittered before her, where Emil had shot the ducks. She stopped +and looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty way out of life, if +one chose to take it. But she did not want to die. She wanted to +live and dream--a hundred years, forever! As long as this sweetness +welled up in her heart, as long as her breast could hold this +treasure of pain! She felt as the pond must feel when it held the +moon like that; when it encircled and swelled with that image of +gold. + +In the morning, when Emil came down-stairs, Alexandra met him +in the sitting-room and put her hands on his shoulders. "Emil, I +went to your room as soon as it was light, but you were sleeping +so sound I hated to wake you. There was nothing you could do, so +I let you sleep. They telephoned from Sainte-Agnes that Amedee +died at three o'clock this morning." + + + + +VI + +The Church has always held that life is for the living. On Saturday, +while half the village of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Amedee and +preparing the funeral black for his burial on Monday, the other +half was busy with white dresses and white veils for the great +confirmation service to-morrow, when the bishop was to confirm a +class of one hundred boys and girls. Father Duchesne divided his +time between the living and the dead. All day Saturday the church +was a scene of bustling activity, a little hushed by the thought +of Amedee. The choir were busy rehearsing a mass of Rossini, which +they had studied and practised for this occasion. The women were +trimming the altar, the boys and girls were bringing flowers. + +On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive overland to Sainte-Agnes +from Hanover, and Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place of +one of Amedee's cousins in the cavalcade of forty French boys who +were to ride across country to meet the bishop's carriage. At +six o'clock on Sunday morning the boys met at the church. As they +stood holding their horses by the bridle, they talked in low tones +of their dead comrade. They kept repeating that Amedee had always +been a good boy, glancing toward the red brick church which had +played so large a part in Amedee's life, had been the scene of his +most serious moments and of his happiest hours. He had played and +wrestled and sung and courted under its shadow. Only three weeks +ago he had proudly carried his baby there to be christened. They +could not doubt that that invisible arm was still about Amedee; that +through the church on earth he had passed to the church triumphant, +the goal of the hopes and faith of so many hundred years. + +When the word was given to mount, the young men rode at a walk out +of the village; but once out among the wheatfields in the morning +sun, their horses and their own youth got the better of them. A +wave of zeal and fiery enthusiasm swept over them. They longed +for a Jerusalem to deliver. The thud of their galloping hoofs +interrupted many a country breakfast and brought many a woman and +child to the door of the farmhouses as they passed. Five miles east +of Sainte-Agnes they met the bishop in his open carriage, attended +by two priests. Like one man the boys swung off their hats in a +broad salute, and bowed their heads as the handsome old man lifted +his two fingers in the episcopal blessing. The horsemen closed +about the carriage like a guard, and whenever a restless horse broke +from control and shot down the road ahead of the body, the bishop +laughed and rubbed his plump hands together. "What fine boys!" he +said to his priests. "The Church still has her cavalry." + +As the troop swept past the graveyard half a mile east of the +town,--the first frame church of the parish had stood there,--old +Pierre Seguin was already out with his pick and spade, digging +Amedee's grave. He knelt and uncovered as the bishop passed. The +boys with one accord looked away from old Pierre to the red church +on the hill, with the gold cross flaming on its steeple. + +Mass was at eleven. While the church was filling, Emil Bergson waited +outside, watching the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After +the bell began to ring, he saw Frank Shabata ride up on horseback +and tie his horse to the hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. +Emil turned and went into the church. Amedee's was the only empty +pew, and he sat down in it. Some of Amedee's cousins were there, +dressed in black and weeping. When all the pews were full, the +old men and boys packed the open space at the back of the church, +kneeling on the floor. There was scarcely a family in town that was +not represented in the confirmation class, by a cousin, at least. +The new communicants, with their clear, reverent faces, were beautiful +to look upon as they entered in a body and took the front benches +reserved for them. Even before the Mass began, the air was charged +with feeling. The choir had never sung so well and Raoul Marcel, +in the "Gloria," drew even the bishop's eyes to the organ loft. +For the offertory he sang Gounod's "Ave Maria,"--always spoken of +in Sainte-Agnes as "the Ave Maria." + +Emil began to torture himself with questions about Marie. Was she +ill? Had she quarreled with her husband? Was she too unhappy to +find comfort even here? Had she, perhaps, thought that he would +come to her? Was she waiting for him? Overtaxed by excitement +and sorrow as he was, the rapture of the service took hold upon his +body and mind. As he listened to Raoul, he seemed to emerge from +the conflicting emotions which had been whirling him about and +sucking him under. He felt as if a clear light broke upon his +mind, and with it a conviction that good was, after all, stronger +than evil, and that good was possible to men. He seemed to discover +that there was a kind of rapture in which he could love forever +without faltering and without sin. He looked across the heads of +the people at Frank Shabata with calmness. That rapture was for those +who could feel it; for people who could not, it was non-existent. +He coveted nothing that was Frank Shabata's. The spirit he had +met in music was his own. Frank Shabata had never found it; would +never find it if he lived beside it a thousand years; would have +destroyed it if he had found it, as Herod slew the innocents, as +Rome slew the martyrs. + +SAN--CTA MARI-I-I-A, + +wailed Raoul from the organ loft; + +O--RA PRO NO-O-BIS! + +And it did not occur to Emil that any one had ever reasoned thus +before, that music had ever before given a man this equivocal +revelation. + +The confirmation service followed the Mass. When it was over, the +congregation thronged about the newly confirmed. The girls, and +even the boys, were kissed and embraced and wept over. All the +aunts and grandmothers wept with joy. The housewives had much ado +to tear themselves away from the general rejoicing and hurry back +to their kitchens. The country parishioners were staying in town +for dinner, and nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes entertained +visitors that day. Father Duchesne, the bishop, and the visiting +priests dined with Fabien Sauvage, the banker. Emil and Frank +Shabata were both guests of old Moise Marcel. After dinner Frank +and old Moise retired to the rear room of the saloon to play +California Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil went over to the +banker's with Raoul, who had been asked to sing for the bishop. + +At three o'clock, Emil felt that he could stand it no longer. He +slipped out under cover of "The Holy City," followed by Malvina's +wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. He was at that +height of excitement from which everything is foreshortened, from +which life seems short and simple, death very near, and the soul +seems to soar like an eagle. As he rode past the graveyard he looked +at the brown hole in the earth where Amedee was to lie, and felt +no horror. That, too, was beautiful, that simple doorway into +forgetfulness. The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for +that brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old +and the poor and the maimed who shrink from that brown hole; its +wooers are found among the young, the passionate, the gallant-hearted. +It was not until he had passed the graveyard that Emil realized +where he was going. It was the hour for saying good-bye. It might +be the last time that he would see her alone, and today he could +leave her without rancor, without bitterness. + +Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of +the smell of the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an +oven. The breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed him like +pleasant things in a dream. He could feel nothing but the sense of +diminishing distance. It seemed to him that his mare was flying, +or running on wheels, like a railway train. The sunlight, flashing +on the window-glass of the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. +He was like an arrow shot from the bow. His life poured itself +out along the road before him as he rode to the Shabata farm. + +When Emil alighted at the Shabatas' gate, his horse was in a lather. +He tied her in the stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. +She might be at Mrs. Hiller's or with Alexandra. But anything +that reminded him of her would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry +tree... When he reached the orchard the sun was hanging low over +the wheatfield. Long fingers of light reached through the apple +branches as through a net; the orchard was riddled and shot with +gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely interferences +that reflected and refracted light. Emil went softly down between +the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. When he came to the corner, +he stopped short and put his hand over his mouth. Marie was lying +on her side under the white mulberry tree, her face half hidden in +the grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply where they had +happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new life of perfect +love, and it had left her like this. Her breast rose and fell +faintly, as if she were asleep. Emil threw himself down beside +her and took her in his arms. The blood came back to her cheeks, +her amber eyes opened slowly, and in them Emil saw his own face +and the orchard and the sun. "I was dreaming this," she whispered, +hiding her face against him, "don't take my dream away!" + + + + +VII + +When Frank Shabata got home that night, he found Emil's mare in +his stable. Such an impertinence amazed him. Like everybody else, +Frank had had an exciting day. Since noon he had been drinking too +much, and he was in a bad temper. He talked bitterly to himself +while he put his own horse away, and as he went up the path and +saw that the house was dark he felt an added sense of injury. He +approached quietly and listened on the doorstep. Hearing nothing, +he opened the kitchen door and went softly from one room to another. +Then he went through the house again, upstairs and down, with no +better result. He sat down on the bottom step of the box stairway +and tried to get his wits together. In that unnatural quiet there +was no sound but his own heavy breathing. Suddenly an owl began +to hoot out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. An idea flashed +into his mind, and his sense of injury and outrage grew. He went +into his bedroom and took his murderous 405 Winchester from the +closet. + +When Frank took up his gun and walked out of the house, he had not +the faintest purpose of doing anything with it. He did not believe +that he had any real grievance. But it gratified him to feel like +a desperate man. He had got into the habit of seeing himself always +in desperate straits. His unhappy temperament was like a cage; he +could never get out of it; and he felt that other people, his wife +in particular, must have put him there. It had never more than +dimly occurred to Frank that he made his own unhappiness. Though +he took up his gun with dark projects in his mind, he would have +been paralyzed with fright had he known that there was the slightest +probability of his ever carrying any of them out. + +Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, stopped and stood for +a moment lost in thought. He retraced his steps and looked through +the barn and the hayloft. Then he went out to the road, where he +took the foot-path along the outside of the orchard hedge. The +hedge was twice as tall as Frank himself, and so dense that one +could see through it only by peering closely between the leaves. +He could see the empty path a long way in the moonlight. His mind +traveled ahead to the stile, which he always thought of as haunted +by Emil Bergson. But why had he left his horse? + +At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard hedge ended and the +path led across the pasture to the Bergsons', Frank stopped. In +the warm, breathless night air he heard a murmuring sound, perfectly +inarticulate, as low as the sound of water coming from a spring, +where there is no fall, and where there are no stones to fret it. +Frank strained his ears. It ceased. He held his breath and began +to tremble. Resting the butt of his gun on the ground, he parted +the mulberry leaves softly with his fingers and peered through +the hedge at the dark figures on the grass, in the shadow of the +mulberry tree. It seemed to him that they must feel his eyes, +that they must hear him breathing. But they did not. Frank, who +had always wanted to see things blacker than they were, for once +wanted to believe less than he saw. The woman lying in the shadow +might so easily be one of the Bergsons' farm-girls.... Again +the murmur, like water welling out of the ground. This time he +heard it more distinctly, and his blood was quicker than his brain. +He began to act, just as a man who falls into the fire begins to +act. The gun sprang to his shoulder, he sighted mechanically and +fired three times without stopping, stopped without knowing why. +Either he shut his eyes or he had vertigo. He did not see anything +while he was firing. He thought he heard a cry simultaneous with +the second report, but he was not sure. He peered again through +the hedge, at the two dark figures under the tree. They had fallen +a little apart from each other, and were perfectly still--No, +not quite; in a white patch of light, where the moon shone through +the branches, a man's hand was plucking spasmodically at the grass. + +Suddenly the woman stirred and uttered a cry, then another, and +another. She was living! She was dragging herself toward the +hedge! Frank dropped his gun and ran back along the path, shaking, +stumbling, gasping. He had never imagined such horror. The +cries followed him. They grew fainter and thicker, as if she were +choking. He dropped on his knees beside the hedge and crouched +like a rabbit, listening; fainter, fainter; a sound like a whine; +again--a moan--another--silence. Frank scrambled to his feet and +ran on, groaning and praying. From habit he went toward the house, +where he was used to being soothed when he had worked himself into +a frenzy, but at the sight of the black, open door, he started back. +He knew that he had murdered somebody, that a woman was bleeding +and moaning in the orchard, but he had not realized before that +it was his wife. The gate stared him in the face. He threw his +hands over his head. Which way to turn? He lifted his tormented +face and looked at the sky. "Holy Mother of God, not to suffer! +She was a good girl--not to suffer!" + +Frank had been wont to see himself in dramatic situations; but +now, when he stood by the windmill, in the bright space between the +barn and the house, facing his own black doorway, he did not see +himself at all. He stood like the hare when the dogs are approaching +from all sides. And he ran like a hare, back and forth about that +moonlit space, before he could make up his mind to go into the +dark stable for a horse. The thought of going into a doorway was +terrible to him. He caught Emil's horse by the bit and led it out. +He could not have buckled a bridle on his own. After two or three +attempts, he lifted himself into the saddle and started for Hanover. +If he could catch the one o'clock train, he had money enough to +get as far as Omaha. + +While he was thinking dully of this in some less sensitized part +of his brain, his acuter faculties were going over and over the +cries he had heard in the orchard. Terror was the only thing that +kept him from going back to her, terror that she might still be +she, that she might still be suffering. A woman, mutilated and +bleeding in his orchard--it was because it was a woman that he +was so afraid. It was inconceivable that he should have hurt a +woman. He would rather be eaten by wild beasts than see her move +on the ground as she had moved in the orchard. Why had she been +so careless? She knew he was like a crazy man when he was angry. +She had more than once taken that gun away from him and held it, +when he was angry with other people. Once it had gone off while +they were struggling over it. She was never afraid. But, when +she knew him, why hadn't she been more careful? Didn't she have +all summer before her to love Emil Bergson in, without taking such +chances? Probably she had met the Smirka boy, too, down there in +the orchard. He didn't care. She could have met all the men on the +Divide there, and welcome, if only she hadn't brought this horror +on him. + +There was a wrench in Frank's mind. He did not honestly believe that +of her. He knew that he was doing her wrong. He stopped his horse +to admit this to himself the more directly, to think it out the more +clearly. He knew that he was to blame. For three years he had been +trying to break her spirit. She had a way of making the best of +things that seemed to him a sentimental affectation. He wanted his +wife to resent that he was wasting his best years among these stupid +and unappreciative people; but she had seemed to find the people +quite good enough. If he ever got rich he meant to buy her pretty +clothes and take her to California in a Pullman car, and treat her +like a lady; but in the mean time he wanted her to feel that life was +as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. He had tried to make her life +ugly. He had refused to share any of the little pleasures she was so +plucky about making for herself. She could be gay about the least +thing in the world; but she must be gay! When she first came to him, +her faith in him, her adoration--Frank struck the mare with his fist. +Why had Marie made him do this thing; why had she brought this upon +him? He was overwhelmed by sickening misfortune. All at once he +heard her cries again--he had forgotten for a moment. "Maria," he +sobbed aloud, "Maria!" + +When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the motion of his horse brought +on a violent attack of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on +again, but he could think of nothing except his physical weakness +and his desire to be comforted by his wife. He wanted to get into +his own bed. Had his wife been at home, he would have turned and +gone back to her meekly enough. + + + + +VIII + +When old Ivar climbed down from his loft at four o'clock the next +morning, he came upon Emil's mare, jaded and lather-stained, her +bridle broken, chewing the scattered tufts of hay outside the stable +door. The old man was thrown into a fright at once. He put the +mare in her stall, threw her a measure of oats, and then set out +as fast as his bow-legs could carry him on the path to the nearest +neighbor. + +"Something is wrong with that boy. Some misfortune has come upon +us. He would never have used her so, in his right senses. It is +not his way to abuse his mare," the old man kept muttering, as he +scuttled through the short, wet pasture grass on his bare feet. + +While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the first long rays of +the sun were reaching down between the orchard boughs to those two +dew-drenched figures. The story of what had happened was written +plainly on the orchard grass, and on the white mulberries that had +fallen in the night and were covered with dark stain. For Emil the +chapter had been short. He was shot in the heart, and had rolled +over on his back and died. His face was turned up to the sky and +his brows were drawn in a frown, as if he had realized that something +had befallen him. But for Marie Shabata it had not been so easy. +One ball had torn through her right lung, another had shattered +the carotid artery. She must have started up and gone toward the +hedge, leaving a trail of blood. There she had fallen and bled. +From that spot there was another trail, heavier than the first, +where she must have dragged herself back to Emil's body. Once +there, she seemed not to have struggled any more. She had lifted +her head to her lover's breast, taken his hand in both her own, +and bled quietly to death. She was lying on her right side in an +easy and natural position, her cheek on Emil's shoulder. On her +face there was a look of ineffable content. Her lips were parted +a little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a day-dream or a +light slumber. After she lay down there, she seemed not to have +moved an eyelash. The hand she held was covered with dark stains, +where she had kissed it. + +But the stained, slippery grass, the darkened mulberries, told only +half the story. Above Marie and Emil, two white butterflies from +Frank's alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out among the interlacing +shadows; diving and soaring, now close together, now far apart; +and in the long grass by the fence the last wild roses of the year +opened their pink hearts to die. + +When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he saw Shabata's rifle +lying in the way. He turned and peered through the branches, +falling upon his knees as if his legs had been mowed from under +him. "Merciful God!" he groaned. + +Alexandra, too, had risen early that morning, because of her anxiety +about Emil. She was in Emil's room upstairs when, from the window, +she saw Ivar coming along the path that led from the Shabatas'. +He was running like a spent man, tottering and lurching from side +to side. Ivar never drank, and Alexandra thought at once that one +of his spells had come upon him, and that he must be in a very bad +way indeed. She ran downstairs and hurried out to meet him, to +hide his infirmity from the eyes of her household. The old man +fell in the road at her feet and caught her hand, over which he +bowed his shaggy head. "Mistress, mistress," he sobbed, "it has +fallen! Sin and death for the young ones! God have mercy upon +us!" + + + + +PART V. Alexandra + + + + +I + +Ivar was sitting at a cobbler's bench in the barn, mending harness +by the light of a lantern and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. +It was only five o'clock of a mid-October day, but a storm had +come up in the afternoon, bringing black clouds, a cold wind and +torrents of rain. The old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, and +occasionally stopped to warm his fingers at the lantern. Suddenly +a woman burst into the shed, as if she had been blown in, accompanied by +a shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, wrapped in a man's overcoat +and wearing a pair of boots over her shoes. In time of trouble +Signa had come back to stay with her mistress, for she was the only +one of the maids from whom Alexandra would accept much personal +service. It was three months now since the news of the terrible +thing that had happened in Frank Shabata's orchard had first run +like a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were staying on with +Alexandra until winter. + +"Ivar," Signa exclaimed as she wiped the rain from her face, "do +you know where she is?" + +The old man put down his cobbler's knife. "Who, the mistress?" + +"Yes. She went away about three o'clock. I happened to look out +of the window and saw her going across the fields in her thin dress +and sun-hat. And now this storm has come on. I thought she was +going to Mrs. Hiller's, and I telephoned as soon as the thunder +stopped, but she had not been there. I'm afraid she is out somewhere +and will get her death of cold." + +Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. "JA, JA, we will see. +I will hitch the boy's mare to the cart and go." + +Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses' stable. +She was shivering with cold and excitement. "Where do you suppose +she can be, Ivar?" + +The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg. +"How should I know?" + +"But you think she is at the graveyard, don't you?" Signa persisted. +"So do I. Oh, I wish she would be more like herself! I can't +believe it's Alexandra Bergson come to this, with no head about +anything. I have to tell her when to eat and when to go to bed." + +"Patience, patience, sister," muttered Ivar as he settled the bit +in the horse's mouth. "When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the +eyes of the spirit are open. She will have a message from those +who are gone, and that will bring her peace. Until then we must +bear with her. You and I are the only ones who have weight with +her. She trusts us." + +"How awful it's been these last three months." Signa held the +lantern so that he could see to buckle the straps. "It don't seem +right that we must all be so miserable. Why do we all have to be +punished? Seems to me like good times would never come again." + +Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but said nothing. He stooped +and took a sandburr from his toe. + +"Ivar," Signa asked suddenly, "will you tell me why you go barefoot? +All the time I lived here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it +for a penance, or what?" + +"No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the body. From my youth +up I have had a strong, rebellious body, and have been subject to +every kind of temptation. Even in age my temptations are prolonged. +It was necessary to make some allowances; and the feet, as I +understand it, are free members. There is no divine prohibition +for them in the Ten Commandments. The hands, the tongue, the eyes, +the heart, all the bodily desires we are commanded to subdue; but +the feet are free members. I indulge them without harm to any +one, even to trampling in filth when my desires are low. They are +quickly cleaned again." + +Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful as she followed Ivar out +to the wagon-shed and held the shafts up for him, while he backed +in the mare and buckled the hold-backs. "You have been a good +friend to the mistress, Ivar," she murmured. + +"And you, God be with you," replied Ivar as he clambered into the +cart and put the lantern under the oilcloth lap-cover. "Now for +a ducking, my girl," he said to the mare, gathering up the reins. + +As they emerged from the shed, a stream of water, running off the +thatch, struck the mare on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly, +then struck out bravely on the soft ground, slipping back again and +again as she climbed the hill to the main road. Between the rain +and the darkness Ivar could see very little, so he let Emil's mare +have the rein, keeping her head in the right direction. When the +ground was level, he turned her out of the dirt road upon the sod, +where she was able to trot without slipping. + +Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three miles from the house, +the storm had spent itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, +dripping rain. The sky and the land were a dark smoke color, and +seemed to be coming together, like two waves. When Ivar stopped +at the gate and swung out his lantern, a white figure rose from +beside John Bergson's white stone. + +The old man sprang to the ground and shuffled toward the gate +calling, "Mistress, mistress!" + +Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her hand on his shoulder. +"TYST! Ivar. There's nothing to be worried about. I'm sorry if +I've scared you all. I didn't notice the storm till it was on me, +and I couldn't walk against it. I'm glad you've come. I am so +tired I didn't know how I'd ever get home." + +Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in her face. "GUD! +You are enough to frighten us, mistress. You look like a drowned +woman. How could you do such a thing!" + +Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the gate and helped her +into the cart, wrapping her in the dry blankets on which he had +been sitting. + +Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. "Not much use in that, Ivar. +You will only shut the wet in. I don't feel so cold now; but I'm +heavy and numb. I'm glad you came." + +Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a sliding trot. Her feet +sent back a continual spatter of mud. + +Alexandra spoke to the old man as they jogged along through the +sullen gray twilight of the storm. "Ivar, I think it has done me +good to get cold clear through like this, once. I don't believe +I shall suffer so much any more. When you get so near the dead, +they seem more real than the living. Worldly thoughts leave one. +Ever since Emil died, I've suffered so when it rained. Now that +I've been out in it with him, I shan't dread it. After you once +get cold clear through, the feeling of the rain on you is sweet. +It seems to bring back feelings you had when you were a baby. It +carries you back into the dark, before you were born; you can't +see things, but they come to you, somehow, and you know them and +aren't afraid of them. Maybe it's like that with the dead. If +they feel anything at all, it's the old things, before they were +born, that comfort people like the feeling of their own bed does +when they are little." + +"Mistress," said Ivar reproachfully, "those are bad thoughts. The +dead are in Paradise." + +Then he hung his head, for he did not believe that Emil was in +Paradise. + +When they got home, Signa had a fire burning in the sitting-room +stove. She undressed Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while +Ivar made ginger tea in the kitchen. When Alexandra was in bed, +wrapped in hot blankets, Ivar came in with his tea and saw that +she drank it. Signa asked permission to sleep on the slat lounge +outside her door. Alexandra endured their attentions patiently, +but she was glad when they put out the lamp and left her. As she +lay alone in the dark, it occurred to her for the first time that +perhaps she was actually tired of life. All the physical operations +of life seemed difficult and painful. She longed to be free from +her own body, which ached and was so heavy. And longing itself +was heavy: she yearned to be free of that. + +As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, more vividly than +for many years, the old illusion of her girlhood, of being lifted +and carried lightly by some one very strong. He was with her +a long while this time, and carried her very far, and in his arms +she felt free from pain. When he laid her down on her bed again, +she opened her eyes, and, for the first time in her life, she saw +him, saw him clearly, though the room was dark, and his face was +covered. He was standing in the doorway of her room. His white +cloak was thrown over his face, and his head was bent a little +forward. His shoulders seemed as strong as the foundations of the +world. His right arm, bared from the elbow, was dark and gleaming, +like bronze, and she knew at once that it was the arm of the +mightiest of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it was she had +waited, and where he would carry her. That, she told herself, was +very well. Then she went to sleep. + +Alexandra wakened in the morning with nothing worse than a hard cold +and a stiff shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, and it +was during that time that she formed a resolution to go to Lincoln +to see Frank Shabata. Ever since she last saw him in the courtroom, +Frank's haggard face and wild eyes had haunted her. The trial had +lasted only three days. Frank had given himself up to the police +in Omaha and pleaded guilty of killing without malice and without +premeditation. The gun was, of course, against him, and the judge +had given him the full sentence,--ten years. He had now been in +the State Penitentiary for a month. + +Frank was the only one, Alexandra told herself, for whom anything +could be done. He had been less in the wrong than any of them, +and he was paying the heaviest penalty. She often felt that she +herself had been more to blame than poor Frank. From the time the +Shabatas had first moved to the neighboring farm, she had omitted +no opportunity of throwing Marie and Emil together. Because she +knew Frank was surly about doing little things to help his wife, +she was always sending Emil over to spade or plant or carpenter +for Marie. She was glad to have Emil see as much as possible of an +intelligent, city-bred girl like their neighbor; she noticed that +it improved his manners. She knew that Emil was fond of Marie, but +it had never occurred to her that Emil's feeling might be different +from her own. She wondered at herself now, but she had never +thought of danger in that direction. If Marie had been unmarried,--oh, +yes! Then she would have kept her eyes open. But the mere fact that +she was Shabata's wife, for Alexandra, settled everything. That she was +beautiful, impulsive, barely two years older than Emil, these facts had +had no weight with Alexandra. Emil was a good boy, and only bad boys +ran after married women. + +Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize that Marie was, after +all, Marie; not merely a "married woman." Sometimes, when Alexandra +thought of her, it was with an aching tenderness. The moment she +had reached them in the orchard that morning, everything was clear +to her. There was something about those two lying in the grass, +something in the way Marie had settled her cheek on Emil's shoulder, +that told her everything. She wondered then how they could have +helped loving each other; how she could have helped knowing that +they must. Emil's cold, frowning face, the girl's content--Alexandra +had felt awe of them, even in the first shock of her grief. + +The idleness of those days in bed, the relaxation of body which +attended them, enabled Alexandra to think more calmly than she had +done since Emil's death. She and Frank, she told herself, were left +out of that group of friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster. +She must certainly see Frank Shabata. Even in the courtroom her +heart had grieved for him. He was in a strange country, he had no +kinsmen or friends, and in a moment he had ruined his life. Being +what he was, she felt, Frank could not have acted otherwise. She +could understand his behavior more easily than she could understand +Marie's. Yes, she must go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. + +The day after Emil's funeral, Alexandra had written to Carl Linstrum; +a single page of notepaper, a bare statement of what had happened. +She was not a woman who could write much about such a thing, and +about her own feelings she could never write very freely. She knew +that Carl was away from post-offices, prospecting somewhere in the +interior. Before he started he had written her where he expected +to go, but her ideas about Alaska were vague. As the weeks went +by and she heard nothing from him, it seemed to Alexandra that +her heart grew hard against Carl. She began to wonder whether she +would not do better to finish her life alone. What was left of +life seemed unimportant. + + + + +II + +Late in the afternoon of a brilliant October day, Alexandra Bergson, +dressed in a black suit and traveling-hat, alighted at the Burlington +depot in Lincoln. She drove to the Lindell Hotel, where she had +stayed two years ago when she came up for Emil's Commencement. In +spite of her usual air of sureness and self-possession, Alexandra +felt ill at ease in hotels, and she was glad, when she went to the +clerk's desk to register, that there were not many people in the +lobby. She had her supper early, wearing her hat and black jacket +down to the dining-room and carrying her handbag. After supper +she went out for a walk. + +It was growing dark when she reached the university campus. She +did not go into the grounds, but walked slowly up and down the +stone walk outside the long iron fence, looking through at the young +men who were running from one building to another, at the lights +shining from the armory and the library. A squad of cadets were +going through their drill behind the armory, and the commands of +their young officer rang out at regular intervals, so sharp and +quick that Alexandra could not understand them. Two stalwart girls +came down the library steps and out through one of the iron gates. +As they passed her, Alexandra was pleased to hear them speaking +Bohemian to each other. Every few moments a boy would come running +down the flagged walk and dash out into the street as if he were +rushing to announce some wonder to the world. Alexandra felt a +great tenderness for them all. She wished one of them would stop +and speak to her. She wished she could ask them whether they had +known Emil. + +As she lingered by the south gate she actually did encounter one +of the boys. He had on his drill cap and was swinging his books +at the end of a long strap. It was dark by this time; he did not +see her and ran against her. He snatched off his cap and stood +bareheaded and panting. "I'm awfully sorry," he said in a bright, +clear voice, with a rising inflection, as if he expected her to +say something. + +"Oh, it was my fault!" said Alexandra eagerly. "Are you an old +student here, may I ask?" + +"No, ma'am. I'm a Freshie, just off the farm. Cherry County. +Were you hunting somebody?" + +"No, thank you. That is--" Alexandra wanted to detain him. "That +is, I would like to find some of my brother's friends. He graduated +two years ago." + +"Then you'd have to try the Seniors, wouldn't you? Let's see; I +don't know any of them yet, but there'll be sure to be some of them +around the library. That red building, right there," he pointed. + +"Thank you, I'll try there," said Alexandra lingeringly. + +"Oh, that's all right! Good-night." The lad clapped his cap on +his head and ran straight down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked +after him wistfully. + +She walked back to her hotel unreasonably comforted. "What a nice +voice that boy had, and how polite he was. I know Emil was always +like that to women." And again, after she had undressed and was +standing in her nightgown, brushing her long, heavy hair by the +electric light, she remembered him and said to herself, "I don't +think I ever heard a nicer voice than that boy had. I hope he +will get on well here. Cherry County; that's where the hay is so +fine, and the coyotes can scratch down to water." + +At nine o'clock the next morning Alexandra presented herself +at the warden's office in the State Penitentiary. The warden was +a German, a ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had formerly been a +harness-maker. Alexandra had a letter to him from the German banker +in Hanover. As he glanced at the letter, Mr. Schwartz put away +his pipe. + +"That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he's gettin' along fine," said +Mr. Schwartz cheerfully. + +"I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he might be quarrelsome and +get himself into more trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I +would like to tell you a little about Frank Shabata, and why I am +interested in him." + +The warden listened genially while she told him briefly something +of Frank's history and character, but he did not seem to find +anything unusual in her account. + +"Sure, I'll keep an eye on him. We'll take care of him all right," +he said, rising. "You can talk to him here, while I go to see to +things in the kitchen. I'll have him sent in. He ought to be done +washing out his cell by this time. We have to keep 'em clean, you +know." + +The warden paused at the door, speaking back over his shoulder to +a pale young man in convicts' clothes who was seated at a desk in +the corner, writing in a big ledger. + +"Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just step out and give this +lady a chance to talk." + +The young man bowed his head and bent over his ledger again. + +When Mr. Schwartz disappeared, Alexandra thrust her black-edged +handkerchief nervously into her handbag. Coming out on the streetcar +she had not had the least dread of meeting Frank. But since she +had been here the sounds and smells in the corridor, the look of the +men in convicts' clothes who passed the glass door of the warden's +office, affected her unpleasantly. + +The warden's clock ticked, the young convict's pen scratched +busily in the big book, and his sharp shoulders were shaken every +few seconds by a loose cough which he tried to smother. It was easy +to see that he was a sick man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, +but he did not once raise his eyes. He wore a white shirt under +his striped jacket, a high collar, and a necktie, very carefully +tied. His hands were thin and white and well cared for, and he had +a seal ring on his little finger. When he heard steps approaching +in the corridor, he rose, blotted his book, put his pen in the rack, +and left the room without raising his eyes. Through the door he +opened a guard came in, bringing Frank Shabata. + +"You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? Here he is. Be on your +good behavior, now. He can set down, lady," seeing that Alexandra +remained standing. "Push that white button when you're through +with him, and I'll come." + +The guard went out and Alexandra and Frank were left alone. + +Alexandra tried not to see his hideous clothes. She tried to look +straight into his face, which she could scarcely believe was his. +It was already bleached to a chalky gray. His lips were colorless, +his fine teeth looked yellowish. He glanced at Alexandra sullenly, +blinked as if he had come from a dark place, and one eyebrow twitched +continually. She felt at once that this interview was a terrible +ordeal to him. His shaved head, showing the conformation of his +skull, gave him a criminal look which he had not had during the +trial. + +Alexandra held out her hand. "Frank," she said, her eyes filling +suddenly, "I hope you'll let me be friendly with you. I understand +how you did it. I don't feel hard toward you. They were more to +blame than you." + +Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from his trousers pocket. +He had begun to cry. He turned away from Alexandra. "I never +did mean to do not'ing to dat woman," he muttered. "I never mean +to do not'ing to dat boy. I ain't had not'ing ag'in' dat boy. I +always like dat boy fine. An' then I find him--" He stopped. The +feeling went out of his face and eyes. He dropped into a chair +and sat looking stolidly at the floor, his hands hanging loosely +between his knees, the handkerchief lying across his striped leg. +He seemed to have stirred up in his mind a disgust that had paralyzed +his faculties. + +"I haven't come up here to blame you, Frank. I think they were +more to blame than you." Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. + +Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of the office window. "I +guess dat place all go to hell what I work so hard on," he said +with a slow, bitter smile. "I not care a damn." He stopped and +rubbed the palm of his hand over the light bristles on his head +with annoyance. "I no can t'ink without my hair," he complained. +"I forget English. We not talk here, except swear." + +Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to have undergone a change +of personality. There was scarcely anything by which she could +recognize her handsome Bohemian neighbor. He seemed, somehow, not +altogether human. She did not know what to say to him. + +"You do not feel hard to me, Frank?" she asked at last. + +Frank clenched his fist and broke out in excitement. "I not feel +hard at no woman. I tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit +my wife. No, never I hurt her when she devil me something awful!" +He struck his fist down on the warden's desk so hard that he +afterward stroked it absently. A pale pink crept over his neck and +face. "Two, t'ree years I know dat woman don' care no more 'bout +me, Alexandra Bergson. I know she after some other man. I know +her, oo-oo! An' I ain't never hurt her. I never would-a done +dat, if I ain't had dat gun along. I don' know what in hell make +me take dat gun. She always say I ain't no man to carry gun. If +she been in dat house, where she ought-a been--But das a foolish +talk." + +Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, as he had stopped +before. Alexandra felt that there was something strange in the way +he chilled off, as if something came up in him that extinguished +his power of feeling or thinking. + +"Yes, Frank," she said kindly. "I know you never meant to hurt +Marie." + +Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled slowly with tears. +"You know, I most forgit dat woman's name. She ain't got no name +for me no more. I never hate my wife, but dat woman what make me +do dat--Honest to God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I +don' want to kill no boy and no woman. I not care how many men +she take under dat tree. I no care for not'ing but dat fine boy +I kill, Alexandra Bergson. I guess I go crazy sure 'nough." + +Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane she had found in Frank's +clothes-closet. She thought of how he had come to this country a +gay young fellow, so attractive that the prettiest Bohemian girl +in Omaha had run away with him. It seemed unreasonable that life +should have landed him in such a place as this. She blamed Marie +bitterly. And why, with her happy, affectionate nature, should +she have brought destruction and sorrow to all who had loved her, +even to poor old Joe Tovesky, the uncle who used to carry her about +so proudly when she was a little girl? That was the strangest thing +of all. Was there, then, something wrong in being warm-hearted +and impulsive like that? Alexandra hated to think so. But there +was Emil, in the Norwegian graveyard at home, and here was Frank +Shabata. Alexandra rose and took him by the hand. + +"Frank Shabata, I am never going to stop trying until I get you +pardoned. I'll never give the Governor any peace. I know I can +get you out of this place." + +Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he gathered confidence from +her face. "Alexandra," he said earnestly, "if I git out-a here, +I not trouble dis country no more. I go back where I come from; +see my mother." + +Alexandra tried to withdraw her hand, but Frank held on to it +nervously. He put out his finger and absently touched a button +on her black jacket. "Alexandra," he said in a low tone, looking +steadily at the button, "you ain' t'ink I use dat girl awful bad +before--" + +"No, Frank. We won't talk about that," Alexandra said, pressing +his hand. "I can't help Emil now, so I'm going to do what I can +for you. You know I don't go away from home often, and I came up +here on purpose to tell you this." + +The warden at the glass door looked in inquiringly. Alexandra +nodded, and he came in and touched the white button on his desk. +The guard appeared, and with a sinking heart Alexandra saw Frank +led away down the corridor. After a few words with Mr. Schwartz, +she left the prison and made her way to the street-car. She had +refused with horror the warden's cordial invitation to "go through +the institution." As the car lurched over its uneven roadbed, back +toward Lincoln, Alexandra thought of how she and Frank had been +wrecked by the same storm and of how, although she could come out +into the sunlight, she had not much more left in her life than +he. She remembered some lines from a poem she had liked in her +schooldays:-- + + Henceforth the world will only be + A wider prison-house to me,-- + +and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her heart; some such +feeling as had twice frozen Frank Shabata's features while they +talked together. She wished she were back on the Divide. + +When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk held up one finger +and beckoned to her. As she approached his desk, he handed her a +telegram. Alexandra took the yellow envelope and looked at it in +perplexity, then stepped into the elevator without opening it. As +she walked down the corridor toward her room, she reflected that +she was, in a manner, immune from evil tidings. On reaching her +room she locked the door, and sitting down on a chair by the dresser, +opened the telegram. It was from Hanover, and it read:-- + + Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait here until you come. + Please hurry. CARL LINSTRUM. + +Alexandra put her head down on the dresser and burst into tears. + + + + +III + +The next afternoon Carl and Alexandra were walking across the fields +from Mrs. Hiller's. Alexandra had left Lincoln after midnight, +and Carl had met her at the Hanover station early in the morning. +After they reached home, Alexandra had gone over to Mrs. Hiller's +to leave a little present she had bought for her in the city. They +stayed at the old lady's door but a moment, and then came out to +spend the rest of the afternoon in the sunny fields. + +Alexandra had taken off her black traveling suit and put on +a white dress; partly because she saw that her black clothes made +Carl uncomfortable and partly because she felt oppressed by them +herself. They seemed a little like the prison where she had worn +them yesterday, and to be out of place in the open fields. Carl +had changed very little. His cheeks were browner and fuller. He +looked less like a tired scholar than when he went away a year ago, +but no one, even now, would have taken him for a man of business. +His soft, lustrous black eyes, his whimsical smile, would be less +against him in the Klondike than on the Divide. There are always +dreamers on the frontier. + +Carl and Alexandra had been talking since morning. Her letter had +never reached him. He had first learned of her misfortune from +a San Francisco paper, four weeks old, which he had picked up in +a saloon, and which contained a brief account of Frank Shabata's +trial. When he put down the paper, he had already made up his +mind that he could reach Alexandra as quickly as a letter could; +and ever since he had been on the way; day and night, by the fastest +boats and trains he could catch. His steamer had been held back +two days by rough weather. + +As they came out of Mrs. Hiller's garden they took up their talk +again where they had left it. + +"But could you come away like that, Carl, without arranging things? +Could you just walk off and leave your business?" Alexandra asked. + +Carl laughed. "Prudent Alexandra! You see, my dear, I happen to +have an honest partner. I trust him with everything. In fact, +it's been his enterprise from the beginning, you know. I'm in it +only because he took me in. I'll have to go back in the spring. +Perhaps you will want to go with me then. We haven't turned up +millions yet, but we've got a start that's worth following. But +this winter I'd like to spend with you. You won't feel that we +ought to wait longer, on Emil's account, will you, Alexandra?" + +Alexandra shook her head. "No, Carl; I don't feel that way about +it. And surely you needn't mind anything Lou and Oscar say now. +They are much angrier with me about Emil, now, than about you. +They say it was all my fault. That I ruined him by sending him to +college." + +"No, I don't care a button for Lou or Oscar. The moment I knew +you were in trouble, the moment I thought you might need me, it all +looked different. You've always been a triumphant kind of person." +Carl hesitated, looking sidewise at her strong, full figure. "But +you do need me now, Alexandra?" + +She put her hand on his arm. "I needed you terribly when it +happened, Carl. I cried for you at night. Then everything seemed +to get hard inside of me, and I thought perhaps I should never care +for you again. But when I got your telegram yesterday, then--then +it was just as it used to be. You are all I have in the world, +you know." + +Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were passing the Shabatas' +empty house now, but they avoided the orchard path and took one +that led over by the pasture pond. + +"Can you understand it, Carl?" Alexandra murmured. "I have had +nobody but Ivar and Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you +understand it? Could you have believed that of Marie Tovesky? I +would have been cut to pieces, little by little, before I would +have betrayed her trust in me!" + +Carl looked at the shining spot of water before them. "Maybe she +was cut to pieces, too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they +both did. That was why Emil went to Mexico, of course. And he was +going away again, you tell me, though he had only been home three +weeks. You remember that Sunday when I went with Emil up to +the French Church fair? I thought that day there was some kind +of feeling, something unusual, between them. I meant to talk to +you about it. But on my way back I met Lou and Oscar and got so +angry that I forgot everything else. You mustn't be hard on them, +Alexandra. Sit down here by the pond a minute. I want to tell +you something." + +They sat down on the grass-tufted bank and Carl told her how he had +seen Emil and Marie out by the pond that morning, more than a year +ago, and how young and charming and full of grace they had seemed +to him. "It happens like that in the world sometimes, Alexandra," +he added earnestly. "I've seen it before. There are women who +spread ruin around them through no fault of theirs, just by being +too beautiful, too full of life and love. They can't help it. +People come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter. I used +to feel that in her when she was a little girl. Do you remember +how all the Bohemians crowded round her in the store that day, when +she gave Emil her candy? You remember those yellow sparks in her +eyes?" + +Alexandra sighed. "Yes. People couldn't help loving her. Poor +Frank does, even now, I think; though he's got himself in such +a tangle that for a long time his love has been bitterer than his +hate. But if you saw there was anything wrong, you ought to have +told me, Carl." + +Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. "My dear, it was something +one felt in the air, as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in +summer. I didn't SEE anything. Simply, when I was with those two +young things, I felt my blood go quicker, I felt--how shall I say +it?--an acceleration of life. After I got away, it was all too +delicate, too intangible, to write about." + +Alexandra looked at him mournfully. "I try to be more liberal +about such things than I used to be. I try to realize that we are +not all made alike. Only, why couldn't it have been Raoul Marcel, +or Jan Smirka? Why did it have to be my boy?" + +"Because he was the best there was, I suppose. They were both the +best you had here." + +The sun was dropping low in the west when the two friends rose and +took the path again. The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, +the owls were flying home to the prairie-dog town. When they came +to the corner where the pastures joined, Alexandra's twelve young +colts were galloping in a drove over the brow of the hill. + +"Carl," said Alexandra, "I should like to go up there with you in +the spring. I haven't been on the water since we crossed the ocean, +when I was a little girl. After we first came out here I used +to dream sometimes about the shipyard where father worked, and a +little sort of inlet, full of masts." Alexandra paused. After a +moment's thought she said, "But you would never ask me to go away +for good, would you?" + +"Of course not, my dearest. I think I know how you feel about this +country as well as you do yourself." Carl took her hand in both +his own and pressed it tenderly. + +"Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is gone. When I was on +the train this morning, and we got near Hanover, I felt something +like I did when I drove back with Emil from the river that time, +in the dry year. I was glad to come back to it. I've lived here +a long time. There is great peace here, Carl, and freedom.... +I thought when I came out of that prison, where poor Frank is, +that I should never feel free again. But I do, here." Alexandra +took a deep breath and looked off into the red west. + +"You belong to the land," Carl murmured, "as you have always said. +Now more than ever." + +"Yes, now more than ever. You remember what you once said about +the graveyard, and the old story writing itself over? Only it is +we who write it, with the best we have." + +They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, overlooking the +house and the windmill and the stables that marked the site of John +Bergson's homestead. On every side the brown waves of the earth +rolled away to meet the sky. + +"Lou and Oscar can't see those things," said Alexandra suddenly. +"Suppose I do will my land to their children, what difference will +that make? The land belongs to the future, Carl; that's the way +it seems to me. How many of the names on the county clerk's plat +will be there in fifty years? I might as well try to will the +sunset over there to my brother's children. We come and go, but +the land is always here. And the people who love it and understand +it are the people who own it--for a little while." + +Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was still gazing into the west, +and in her face there was that exalted serenity that sometimes came +to her at moments of deep feeling. The level rays of the sinking +sun shone in her clear eyes. + +"Why are you thinking of such things now, Alexandra?" + +"I had a dream before I went to Lincoln--But I will tell you about +that afterward, after we are married. It will never come true, +now, in the way I thought it might." She took Carl's arm and they +walked toward the gate. "How many times we have walked this path +together, Carl. How many times we will walk it again! Does it seem +to you like coming back to your own place? Do you feel at peace +with the world here? I think we shall be very happy. I haven't +any fears. I think when friends marry, they are safe. We don't +suffer like--those young ones." Alexandra ended with a sigh. + +They had reached the gate. Before Carl opened it, he drew Alexandra +to him and kissed her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. + +She leaned heavily on his shoulder. "I am tired," she murmured. +"I have been very lonely, Carl." + +They went into the house together, leaving the Divide behind them, +under the evening star. Fortunate country, that is one day to +receive hearts like Alexandra's into its bosom, to give them out +again in the yellow wheat, in the rustling corn, in the shining +eyes of youth! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of O Pioneers!, by Willa Cather + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK O PIONEERS! *** + +***** This file should be named 24.txt or 24.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/24/ + +Produced by Martin Robb + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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KRAMER, ESQ. +NY and IL Bars +CompuServe: 72600,2026 + Internet: 72600.2026@compuserve.com + Tel: (212) 254-5093 + + + + + PART I + + The Wild Land + + + + + I + + + One January day, thirty years ago, the little +town of Hanover, anchored on a windy Ne- +braska tableland, was trying not to be blown +away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling +and eddying about the cluster of low drab +buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a +gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set about +haphazard on the tough prairie sod; some of +them looked as if they had been moved in +overnight, and others as if they were straying +off by themselves, headed straight for the open +plain. None of them had any appearance of +permanence, and the howling wind blew under +them as well as over them. The main street +was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard, +which ran from the squat red railway station +and the grain "elevator" at the north end of +the town to the lumber yard and the horse +pond at the south end. On either side of this +road straggled two uneven rows of wooden +buildings; the general merchandise stores, the +two banks, the drug store, the feed store, the +saloon, the post-office. The board sidewalks +were gray with trampled snow, but at two +o'clock in the afternoon the shopkeepers, hav- +ing come back from dinner, were keeping well +behind their frosty windows. The children were +all in school, and there was nobody abroad in +the streets but a few rough-looking country- +men in coarse overcoats, with their long caps +pulled down to their noses. Some of them had +brought their wives to town, and now and then +a red or a plaid shawl flashed out of one store +into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars +along the street a few heavy work-horses, har- +nessed to farm wagons, shivered under their +blankets. About the station everything was +quiet, for there would not be another train in +until night. + + On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores +sat a little Swede boy, crying bitterly. He was +about five years old. His black cloth coat was +much too big for him and made him look like +a little old man. His shrunken brown flannel +dress had been washed many times and left a +long stretch of stocking between the hem of his +skirt and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed +shoes. His cap was pulled down over his ears; +his nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped +and red with cold. He cried quietly, and the +few people who hurried by did not notice him. +He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to go into +the store and ask for help, so he sat wringing his +long sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole +beside him, whimpering, "My kitten, oh, my +kitten! Her will fweeze!" At the top of the +pole crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing +faintly and clinging desperately to the wood +with her claws. The boy had been left at the +store while his sister went to the doctor's office, +and in her absence a dog had chased his kit- +ten up the pole. The little creature had never +been so high before, and she was too frightened +to move. Her master was sunk in despair. He +was a little country boy, and this village was to +him a very strange and perplexing place, where +people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. +He always felt shy and awkward here, and +wanted to hide behind things for fear some one +might laugh at him. Just now, he was too un- +happy to care who laughed. At last he seemed +to see a ray of hope: his sister was coming, and +he got up and ran toward her in his heavy +shoes. + + His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she +walked rapidly and resolutely, as if she knew +exactly where she was going and what she was +going to do next. She wore a man's long ulster +(not as if it were an affliction, but as if it were +very comfortable and belonged to her; carried +it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap, +tied down with a thick veil. She had a serious, +thoughtful face, and her clear, deep blue eyes +were fixed intently on the distance, without +seeming to see anything, as if she were in +trouble. She did not notice the little boy until +he pulled her by the coat. Then she stopped +short and stooped down to wipe his wet face. + + "Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store +and not to come out. What is the matter with +you?" + + "My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put +her out, and a dog chased her up there." His +forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his coat, +pointed up to the wretched little creature on +the pole. + + "Oh, Emil! Didn't I tell you she'd get us +into trouble of some kind, if you brought her? +What made you tease me so? But there, I +ought to have known better myself." She went +to the foot of the pole and held out her arms, +crying, "Kitty, kitty, kitty," but the kitten +only mewed and faintly waved its tail. Alex- +andra turned away decidedly. "No, she won't +come down. Somebody will have to go up after +her. I saw the Linstrums' wagon in town. I'll +go and see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do +something. Only you must stop crying, or I +won't go a step. Where's your comforter? Did +you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold +still, till I put this on you." + + She unwound the brown veil from her head +and tied it about his throat. A shabby little +traveling man, who was just then coming out of +the store on his way to the saloon, stopped and +gazed stupidly at the shining mass of hair she +bared when she took off her veil; two thick +braids, pinned about her head in the German +way, with a fringe of reddish-yellow curls blow- +ing out from under her cap. He took his cigar +out of his mouth and held the wet end between +the fingers of his woolen glove. "My God, girl, +what a head of hair!" he exclaimed, quite +innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with +a glance of Amazonian fierceness and drew in +her lower lip--most unnecessary severity. It +gave the little clothing drummer such a start +that he actually let his cigar fall to the side- +walk and went off weakly in the teeth of the +wind to the saloon. His hand was still unsteady +when he took his glass from the bartender. His +feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed +before, but never so mercilessly. He felt cheap +and ill-used, as if some one had taken advan- +tage of him. When a drummer had been knock- +ing about in little drab towns and crawling +across the wintry country in dirty smoking- +cars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced +upon a fine human creature, he suddenly wished +himself more of a man? + + While the little drummer was drinking to +recover his nerve, Alexandra hurried to the +drug store as the most likely place to find Carl +Linstrum. There he was, turning over a port- +folio of chromo "studies" which the druggist +sold to the Hanover women who did china- +painting. Alexandra explained her predica- +ment, and the boy followed her to the corner, +where Emil still sat by the pole. + + "I'll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I +think at the depot they have some spikes I can +strap on my feet. Wait a minute." Carl thrust +his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, +and darted up the street against the north +wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, slight and +narrow-chested. When he came back with the +spikes, Alexandra asked him what he had done +with his overcoat. + + "I left it in the drug store. I couldn't climb +in it, anyhow. Catch me if I fall, Emil," he +called back as he began his ascent. Alexandra +watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter +enough on the ground. The kitten would not +budge an inch. Carl had to go to the very top +of the pole, and then had some difficulty in tear- +ing her from her hold. When he reached the +ground, he handed the cat to her tearful little +master. "Now go into the store with her, Emil, +and get warm." He opened the door for the +child. "Wait a minute, Alexandra. Why can't +I drive for you as far as our place? It's get- +ting colder every minute. Have you seen the +doctor?" + + "Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But +he says father can't get better; can't get well." +The girl's lip trembled. She looked fixedly up +the bleak street as if she were gathering her +strength to face something, as if she were try- +ing with all her might to grasp a situation which, +no matter how painful, must be met and dealt +with somehow. The wind flapped the skirts of +her heavy coat about her. + + Carl did not say anything, but she felt his +sympathy. He, too, was lonely. He was a thin, +frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very quiet +in all his movements. There was a delicate pallor +in his thin face, and his mouth was too sensitive +for a boy's. The lips had already a little curl +of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends +stood for a few moments on the windy street +corner, not speaking a word, as two travelers, +who have lost their way, sometimes stand and +admit their perplexity in silence. When Carl +turned away he said, "I'll see to your team." +Alexandra went into the store to have her pur- +chases packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm +before she set out on her long cold drive. + + When she looked for Emil, she found him sit- +ting on a step of the staircase that led up to the +clothing and carpet department. He was play- +ing with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, +who was tying her handkerchief over the kit- +ten's head for a bonnet. Marie was a stranger +in the country, having come from Omaha with +her mother to visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. She +was a dark child, with brown curly hair, like a +brunette doll's, a coaxing little red mouth, +and round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one +noticed her eyes; the brown iris had golden +glints that made them look like gold-stone, or, +in softer lights, like that Colorado mineral +called tiger-eye. + + The country children thereabouts wore their +dresses to their shoe-tops, but this city child +was dressed in what was then called the "Kate +Greenaway" manner, and her red cashmere +frock, gathered full from the yoke, came almost +to the floor. This, with her poke bonnet, gave +her the look of a quaint little woman. She had +a white fur tippet about her neck and made +no fussy objections when Emil fingered it +admiringly. Alexandra had not the heart to +take him away from so pretty a playfellow, and +she let them tease the kitten together until Joe +Tovesky came in noisily and picked up his little +niece, setting her on his shoulder for every +one to see. His children were all boys, and he +adored this little creature. His cronies formed +a circle about him, admiring and teasing the +little girl, who took their jokes with great good +nature. They were all delighted with her, for +they seldom saw so pretty and carefully nur- +tured a child. They told her that she must +choose one of them for a sweetheart, and each +began pressing his suit and offering her bribes; +candy, and little pigs, and spotted calves. She +looked archly into the big, brown, mustached +faces, smelling of spirits and tobacco, then she +ran her tiny forefinger delicately over Joe's +bristly chin and said, "Here is my sweetheart." + + The Bohemians roared with laughter, and +Marie's uncle hugged her until she cried, "Please +don't, Uncle Joe! You hurt me." Each of Joe's +friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed +them all around, though she did not like coun- +try candy very well. Perhaps that was why she +bethought herself of Emil. "Let me down, +Uncle Joe," she said, "I want to give some of +my candy to that nice little boy I found." She +walked graciously over to Emil, followed by her +lusty admirers, who formed a new circle and +teased the little boy until he hid his face in his +sister's skirts, and she had to scold him for +being such a baby. + + The farm people were making preparations +to start for home. The women were checking +over their groceries and pinning their big red +shawls about their heads. The men were buy- +ing tobacco and candy with what money they +had left, were showing each other new boots +and gloves and blue flannel shirts. Three big +Bohemians were drinking raw alcohol, tinctured +with oil of cinnamon. This was said to fortify +one effectually against the cold, and they +smacked their lips after each pull at the flask. +Their volubility drowned every other noise in +the place, and the overheated store sounded of +their spirited language as it reeked of pipe +smoke, damp woolens, and kerosene. + + Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carry- +ing a wooden box with a brass handle. "Come," +he said, "I've fed and watered your team, and +the wagon is ready." He carried Emil out and +tucked him down in the straw in the wagon- +box. The heat had made the little boy sleepy, +but he still clung to his kitten. + + "You were awful good to climb so high and +get my kitten, Carl. When I get big I'll climb +and get little boys' kittens for them," he mur- +mured drowsily. Before the horses were over +the first hill, Emil and his cat were both fast +asleep. + + Although it was only four o'clock, the winter +day was fading. The road led southwest, toward +the streak of pale, watery light that glimmered +in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two +sad young faces that were turned mutely toward +it: upon the eyes of the girl, who seemed to be +looking with such anguished perplexity into +the future; upon the sombre eyes of the boy, +who seemed already to be looking into the past. +The little town behind them had vanished as if +it had never been, had fallen behind the swell +of the prairie, and the stern frozen country +received them into its bosom. The homesteads +were few and far apart; here and there a wind- +mill gaunt against the sky, a sod house crouch- +ing in a hollow. But the great fact was the land +itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little +beginnings of human society that struggled in +its sombre wastes. It was from facing this vast +hardness that the boy's mouth had become so +bitter; because he felt that men were too weak +to make any mark here, that the land wanted +to be let alone, to preserve its own fierce +strength, its peculiar, savage kind of beauty, +its uninterrupted mournfulness. + + The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. +The two friends had less to say to each other +than usual, as if the cold had somehow pene- +trated to their hearts. + + "Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut +wood to-day?" Carl asked. + + "Yes. I'm almost sorry I let them go, it's +turned so cold. But mother frets if the wood +gets low." She stopped and put her hand to +her forehead, brushing back her hair. "I don't +know what is to become of us, Carl, if father +has to die. I don't dare to think about it. I +wish we could all go with him and let the grass +grow back over everything." + + Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was +the Norwegian graveyard, where the grass had, +indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy +and red, hiding even the wire fence. Carl real- +ized that he was not a very helpful companion, +but there was nothing he could say. + + "Of course," Alexandra went on, steadying +her voice a little, "the boys are strong and work +hard, but we've always depended so on father +that I don't see how we can go ahead. I almost +feel as if there were nothing to go ahead for." + + "Does your father know?" + + "Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts +on his fingers all day. I think he is trying to +count up what he is leaving for us. It's a com- +fort to him that my chickens are laying right +on through the cold weather and bringing in a +little money. I wish we could keep his mind off +such things, but I don't have much time to be +with him now." + + "I wonder if he'd like to have me bring my +magic lantern over some evening?" + + Alexandra turned her face toward him. "Oh, +Carl! Have you got it?" + + "Yes. It's back there in the straw. Didn't +you notice the box I was carrying? I tried it all +morning in the drug-store cellar, and it worked +ever so well, makes fine big pictures." + + "What are they about?" + + "Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and +Robinson Crusoe and funny pictures about +cannibals. I'm going to paint some slides for +it on glass, out of the Hans Andersen book." + + Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is +often a good deal of the child left in people who +have had to grow up too soon. "Do bring it +over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I'm +sure it will please father. Are the pictures col- +ored? Then I know he'll like them. He likes +the calendars I get him in town. I wish I could +get more. You must leave me here, mustn't +you? It's been nice to have company." + + Carl stopped the horses and looked dubi- +ously up at the black sky. "It's pretty dark. +Of course the horses will take you home, but I +think I'd better light your lantern, in case you +should need it." + + He gave her the reins and climbed back into +the wagon-box, where he crouched down and +made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen +trials he succeeded in lighting the lantern, which +he placed in front of Alexandra, half covering +it with a blanket so that the light would not +shine in her eyes. "Now, wait until I find my +box. Yes, here it is. Good-night, Alexandra. +Try not to worry." Carl sprang to the ground +and ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum +homestead. "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!" he called back +as he disappeared over a ridge and dropped +into a sand gully. The wind answered him like +an echo, "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!" Alexandra +drove off alone. The rattle of her wagon was +lost in the howling of the wind, but her lantern, +held firmly between her feet, made a moving +point of light along the highway, going deeper +and deeper into the dark country. + + + + II + + + On one of the ridges of that wintry waste +stood the low log house in which John Bergson +was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier +to find than many another, because it over- +looked Norway Creek, a shallow, muddy stream +that sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood +still, at the bottom of a winding ravine with +steep, shelving sides overgrown with brush and +cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This creek gave a +sort of identity to the farms that bordered upon +it. Of all the bewildering things about a new +country, the absence of human landmarks is +one of the most depressing and disheartening. +The houses on the Divide were small and were +usually tucked away in low places; you did not +see them until you came directly upon them. +Most of them were built of the sod itself, and +were only the unescapable ground in another +form. The roads were but faint tracks in the +grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. +The record of the plow was insignificant, like +the feeble scratches on stone left by prehistoric +races, so indeterminate that they may, after all, +be only the markings of glaciers, and not a rec- +ord of human strivings. + + In eleven long years John Bergson had made +but little impression upon the wild land he had +come to tame. It was still a wild thing that had +its ugly moods; and no one knew when they +were likely to come, or why. Mischance hung +over it. Its Genius was unfriendly to man. The +sick man was feeling this as he lay looking out +of the window, after the doctor had left him, +on the day following Alexandra's trip to town. +There it lay outside his door, the same land, the +same lead-colored miles. He knew every ridge +and draw and gully between him and the +horizon. To the south, his plowed fields; to the +east, the sod stables, the cattle corral, the pond, +--and then the grass. + + Bergson went over in his mind the things +that had held him back. One winter his cattle +had perished in a blizzard. The next summer +one of his plow horses broke its leg in a prairie- +dog hole and had to be shot. Another summer he +lost his hogs from cholera, and a valuable +stallion died from a rattlesnake bite. Time and +again his crops had failed. He had lost two +children, boys, that came between Lou and +Emil, and there had been the cost of sickness +and death. Now, when he had at last struggled +out of debt, he was going to die himself. He +was only forty-six, and had, of course, counted +upon more time. + + Bergson had spent his first five years on the +Divide getting into debt, and the last six getting +out. He had paid off his mortgages and had +ended pretty much where he began, with the +land. He owned exactly six hundred and forty +acres of what stretched outside his door; his own +original homestead and timber claim, making +three hundred and twenty acres, and the half- +section adjoining, the homestead of a younger +brother who had given up the fight, gone back +to Chicago to work in a fancy bakery and dis- +tinguish himself in a Swedish athletic club. So +far John had not attempted to cultivate the +second half-section, but used it for pasture +land, and one of his sons rode herd there in +open weather. + + John Bergson had the Old-World belief that +land, in itself, is desirable. But this land was +an enigma. It was like a horse that no one +knows how to break to harness, that runs wild +and kicks things to pieces. He had an idea that +no one understood how to farm it properly, and +this he often discussed with Alexandra. Their +neighbors, certainly, knew even less about +farming than he did. Many of them had +never worked on a farm until they took up +their homesteads. They had been HANDWERKERS +at home; tailors, locksmiths, joiners, cigar- +makers, etc. Bergson himself had worked in a +shipyard. + + For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking +about these things. His bed stood in the sitting- +room, next to the kitchen. Through the day, +while the baking and washing and ironing were +going on, the father lay and looked up at the +roof beams that he himself had hewn, or out at +the cattle in the corral. He counted the cattle +over and over. It diverted him to speculate as +to how much weight each of the steers would +probably put on by spring. He often called his +daughter in to talk to her about this. Before +Alexandra was twelve years old she had begun +to be a help to him, and as she grew older he +had come to depend more and more upon her +resourcefulness and good judgment. His boys +were willing enough to work, but when he +talked with them they usually irritated him. It +was Alexandra who read the papers and fol- +lowed the markets, and who learned by the mis- +takes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who +could always tell about what it had cost to fat- +ten each steer, and who could guess the weight +of a hog before it went on the scales closer than +John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar were in- +dustrious, but he could never teach them to use +their heads about their work. + + Alexandra, her father often said to himself, +was like her grandfather; which was his way of +saying that she was intelligent. John Bergson's +father had been a shipbuilder, a man of consid- +erable force and of some fortune. Late in life he +married a second time, a Stockholm woman of +questionable character, much younger than he, +who goaded him into every sort of extrava- +gance. On the shipbuilder's part, this marriage +was an infatuation, the despairing folly of a +powerful man who cannot bear to grow old. +In a few years his unprincipled wife warped the +probity of a lifetime. He speculated, lost his +own fortune and funds entrusted to him by +poor seafaring men, and died disgraced, leav- +ing his children nothing. But when all was said, +he had come up from the sea himself, had built +up a proud little business with no capital but his +own skill and foresight, and had proved himself +a man. In his daughter, John Bergson recog- +nized the strength of will, and the simple direct +way of thinking things out, that had charac- +terized his father in his better days. He would +much rather, of course, have seen this likeness +in one of his sons, but it was not a question of +choice. As he lay there day after day he had to +accept the situation as it was, and to be thank- +ful that there was one among his children to +whom he could entrust the future of his family +and the possibilities of his hard-won land. + + The winter twilight was fading. The sick +man heard his wife strike a match in the kitchen, +and the light of a lamp glimmered through the +cracks of the door. It seemed like a light shin- +ing far away. He turned painfully in his bed +and looked at his white hands, with all the +work gone out of them. He was ready to give +up, he felt. He did not know how it had come +about, but he was quite willing to go deep un- +der his fields and rest, where the plow could not +find him. He was tired of making mistakes. He +was content to leave the tangle to other hands; +he thought of his Alexandra's strong ones. + + "DOTTER," he called feebly, "DOTTER!" He +heard her quick step and saw her tall figure +appear in the doorway, with the light of the +lamp behind her. He felt her youth and +strength, how easily she moved and stooped +and lifted. But he would not have had it again +if he could, not he! He knew the end too well to +wish to begin again. He knew where it all went +to, what it all became. + + His daughter came and lifted him up on his +pillows. She called him by an old Swedish name +that she used to call him when she was little +and took his dinner to him in the shipyard. + + "Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I +want to speak to them." + + "They are feeding the horses, father. They +have just come back from the Blue. Shall I +call them?" + + He sighed. "No, no. Wait until they come +in. Alexandra, you will have to do the best you +can for your brothers. Everything will come on +you." + + "I will do all I can, father." + + "Don't let them get discouraged and go off +like Uncle Otto. I want them to keep the land." + + "We will, father. We will never lose the +land." + + There was a sound of heavy feet in the +kitchen. Alexandra went to the door and beck- +oned to her brothers, two strapping boys of +seventeen and nineteen. They came in and +stood at the foot of the bed. Their father looked +at them searchingly, though it was too dark to +see their faces; they were just the same boys, he +told himself, he had not been mistaken in them. +The square head and heavy shoulders belonged +to Oscar, the elder. The younger boy was +quicker, but vacillating. + + "Boys," said the father wearily, "I want you +to keep the land together and to be guided by +your sister. I have talked to her since I have +been sick, and she knows all my wishes. I +want no quarrels among my children, and so +long as there is one house there must be one +head. Alexandra is the oldest, and she knows +my wishes. She will do the best she can. If she +makes mistakes, she will not make so many as +I have made. When you marry, and want a +house of your own, the land will be divided +fairly, according to the courts. But for the next +few years you will have it hard, and you must +all keep together. Alexandra will manage the +best she can." + + Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, +replied because he was the older, "Yes, father. +It would be so anyway, without your speaking. +We will all work the place together." + + "And you will be guided by your sister, boys, +and be good brothers to her, and good sons to +your mother? That is good. And Alexandra +must not work in the fields any more. There is +no necessity now. Hire a man when you need +help. She can make much more with her eggs +and butter than the wages of a man. It was +one of my mistakes that I did not find that out +sooner. Try to break a little more land every +year; sod corn is good for fodder. Keep turning +the land, and always put up more hay than you +need. Don't grudge your mother a little time +for plowing her garden and setting out fruit +trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has +been a good mother to you, and she has always + + When they went back to the kitchen the boys +sat down silently at the table. Throughout the +meal they looked down at their plates and did +not lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, +although they had been working in the cold all +day, and there was a rabbit stewed in gravy for +supper, and prune pies. + + John Bergson had married beneath him, but +he had married a good housewife. Mrs. Berg- +son was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy +and placid like her son, Oscar, but there was +something comfortable about her; perhaps it +was her own love of comfort. For eleven years +she had worthily striven to maintain some sem- +blance of household order amid conditions that +made order very difficult. Habit was very +strong with Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting +efforts to repeat the routine of her old life among +new surroundings had done a great deal to keep +the family from disintegrating morally and get- +ting careless in their ways. The Bergsons had +a log house, for instance, only because Mrs. +Bergson would not live in a sod house. She +missed the fish diet of her own country, and +twice every summer she sent the boys to the +river, twenty miles to the southward, to fish +for channel cat. When the children were little +she used to load them all into the wagon, the +baby in its crib, and go fishing herself. + + Alexandra often said that if her mother were +cast upon a desert island, she would thank God +for her deliverance, make a garden, and find +something to preserve. Preserving was almost +a mania with Mrs. Bergson. Stout as she was, +she roamed the scrubby banks of Norway Creek +looking for fox grapes and goose plums, like a +wild creature in search of prey. She made a yel- +low jam of the insipid ground-cherries that grew +on the prairie, flavoring it with lemon peel; and +she made a sticky dark conserve of garden toma- +toes. She had experimented even with the rank +buffalo-pea, and she could not see a fine bronze +cluster of them without shaking her head and +murmuring, "What a pity!" When there was +nothing more to preserve, she began to pickle. +The amount of sugar she used in these processes +was sometimes a serious drain upon the family +resources. She was a good mother, but she was +glad when her children were old enough not to +be in her way in the kitchen. She had never +quite forgiven John Bergson for bringing her +to the end of the earth; but, now that she was +there, she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct +her old life in so far as that was possible. She +could still take some comfort in the world if +she had bacon in the cave, glass jars on the +shelves, and sheets in the press. She disap- +proved of all her neighbors because of their +slovenly housekeeping, and the women thought +her very proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on +her way to Norway Creek, stopped to see old +Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in the haymow +"for fear Mis' Bergson would catch her bare- +foot." + + + + III + + + One Sunday afternoon in July, six months +after John Bergson's death, Carl was sitting in +the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming +over an illustrated paper, when he heard the +rattle of a wagon along the hill road. Looking +up he recognized the Bergsons' team, with two +seats in the wagon, which meant they were off +for a pleasure excursion. Oscar and Lou, on +the front seat, wore their cloth hats and coats, +never worn except on Sundays, and Emil, on +the second seat with Alexandra, sat proudly in +his new trousers, made from a pair of his +father's, and a pink-striped shirt, with a wide +ruffled collar. Oscar stopped the horses and +waved to Carl, who caught up his hat and ran +through the melon patch to join them. + + "Want to go with us?" Lou called. "We're +going to Crazy Ivar's to buy a hammock." + + "Sure." Carl ran up panting, and clamber- +ing over the wheel sat down beside Emil. "I've +always wanted to see Ivar's pond. They say +it's the biggest in all the country. Aren't you +afraid to go to Ivar's in that new shirt, Emil? +He might want it and take it right off your +back." + + Emil grinned. "I'd be awful scared to go," +he admitted, "if you big boys weren't along to +take care of me. Did you ever hear him howl, +Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the +country howling at night because he is afraid +the Lord will destroy him. Mother thinks he +must have done something awful wicked." + + Lou looked back and winked at Carl. "What +would you do, Emil, if you was out on the +prairie by yourself and seen him coming?" + + Emil stared. "Maybe I could hide in a +badger-hole," he suggested doubtfully. + + "But suppose there wasn't any badger-hole," +Lou persisted. "Would you run?" + + "No, I'd be too scared to run," Emil ad- +mitted mournfully, twisting his fingers. "I +guess I'd sit right down on the ground and say +my prayers." + + The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished +his whip over the broad backs of the horses. + + "He wouldn't hurt you, Emil," said Carl +persuasively. "He came to doctor our mare +when she ate green corn and swelled up most as +big as the water-tank. He petted her just like +you do your cats. I couldn't understand much +he said, for he don't talk any English, but he +kept patting her and groaning as if he had the +pain himself, and saying, 'There now, sister, +that's easier, that's better!'" + + Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled +delightedly and looked up at his sister. + + "I don't think he knows anything at all +about doctoring," said Oscar scornfully. "They +say when horses have distemper he takes the +medicine himself, and then prays over the +horses." + + Alexandra spoke up. "That's what the +Crows said, but he cured their horses, all the +same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. But +if you can get him on a clear day, you can learn +a great deal from him. He understands ani- +mals. Didn't I see him take the horn off the +Berquist's cow when she had torn it loose and +went crazy? She was tearing all over the place, +knocking herself against things. And at last +she ran out on the roof of the old dugout and +her legs went through and there she stuck, bel- +lowing. Ivar came running with his white bag, +and the moment he got to her she was quiet and +let him saw her horn off and daub the place +with tar." + + Emil had been watching his sister, his face +reflecting the sufferings of the cow. "And then +didn't it hurt her any more?" he asked. + + Alexandra patted him. "No, not any more. +And in two days they could use her milk +again." + + The road to Ivar's homestead was a very poor +one. He had settled in the rough country across +the county line, where no one lived but some +Russians,--half a dozen families who dwelt +together in one long house, divided off like +barracks. Ivar had explained his choice by +saying that the fewer neighbors he had, the +fewer temptations. Nevertheless, when one +considered that his chief business was horse- +doctoring, it seemed rather short-sighted of +him to live in the most inaccessible place he +could find. The Bergson wagon lurched along +over the rough hummocks and grass banks, fol- +lowed the bottom of winding draws, or skirted +the margin of wide lagoons, where the golden +coreopsis grew up out of the clear water and +the wild ducks rose with a whirr of wings. + + Lou looked after them helplessly. "I wish +I'd brought my gun, anyway, Alexandra," he +said fretfully. "I could have hidden it under +the straw in the bottom of the wagon." + + "Then we'd have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, +they say he can smell dead birds. And if he +knew, we wouldn't get anything out of him, +not even a hammock. I want to talk to him, +and he won't talk sense if he's angry. It makes +him foolish." + + Lou sniffed. "Whoever heard of him talking +sense, anyhow! I'd rather have ducks for sup- +per than Crazy Ivar's tongue." + + Emil was alarmed. "Oh, but, Lou, you don't +want to make him mad! He might howl!" + + They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the +horses up the crumbling side of a clay bank. +They had left the lagoons and the red grass +behind them. In Crazy Ivar's country the +grass was short and gray, the draws deeper +than they were in the Bergsons' neighborhood, +and the land was all broken up into hillocks +and clay ridges. The wild flowers disappeared, +and only in the bottom of the draws and gullies +grew a few of the very toughest and hardiest: +shoestring, and ironweed, and snow-on-the- +mountain. + + "Look, look, Emil, there's Ivar's big pond!" +Alexandra pointed to a shining sheet of water +that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. +At one end of the pond was an earthen dam, +planted with green willow bushes, and above it +a door and a single window were set into the +hillside. You would not have seen them at all +but for the reflection of the sunlight upon the +four panes of window-glass. And that was all +you saw. Not a shed, not a corral, not a well, +not even a path broken in the curly grass. But +for the piece of rusty stovepipe sticking up +through the sod, you could have walked over +the roof of Ivar's dwelling without dreaming +that you were near a human habitation. Ivar +had lived for three years in the clay bank, with- +out defiling the face of nature any more than the +coyote that had lived there before him had done. + + When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar +was sitting in the doorway of his house, reading +the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly shaped +old man, with a thick, powerful body set on +short bow-legs. His shaggy white hair, falling in +a thick mane about his ruddy cheeks, made him +look older than he was. He was barefoot, but he +wore a clean shirt of unbleached cotton, open at +the neck. He always put on a clean shirt when +Sunday morning came round, though he never +went to church. He had a peculiar religion of +his own and could not get on with any of the +denominations. Often he did not see anybody +from one week's end to another. He kept a +calendar, and every morning he checked off a +day, so that he was never in any doubt as to +which day of the week it was. Ivar hired him- +self out in threshing and corn-husking time, +and he doctored sick animals when he was sent +for. When he was at home, he made ham- +mocks out of twine and committed chapters +of the Bible to memory. + + Ivar found contentment in the solitude he +had sought out for himself. He disliked the +litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the +bits of broken china, the old wash-boilers and +tea-kettles thrown into the sunflower patch. +He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of the +wild sod. He always said that the badgers had +cleaner houses than people, and that when he +took a housekeeper her name would be Mrs. +Badger. He best expressed his preference for +his wild homestead by saying that his Bible +seemed truer to him there. If one stood in the +doorway of his cave, and looked off at the rough +land, the smiling sky, the curly grass white in +the hot sunlight; if one listened to the rapturous +song of the lark, the drumming of the quail, the +burr of the locust against that vast silence, one +understood what Ivar meant. + + On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with +happiness. He closed the book on his knee, +keeping the place with his horny finger, and +He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run + among the hills; +They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild + asses quench their thirst. +The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of + Lebanon which he hath planted; +Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the + fir trees are her house. +The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the + rocks for the conies. +repeated softly:-- + + Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard +the Bergsons' wagon approaching, and he +sprang up and ran toward it. + + "No guns, no guns!" he shouted, waving his +arms distractedly. + + "No, Ivar, no guns," Alexandra called reas- +suringly. + + He dropped his arms and went up to the +wagon, smiling amiably and looking at them +out of his pale blue eyes. + + "We want to buy a hammock, if you have +one," Alexandra explained, "and my little +brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where +so many birds come." + + Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the +horses' noses and feeling about their mouths +behind the bits. "Not many birds just now. +A few ducks this morning; and some snipe +come to drink. But there was a crane last week. +She spent one night and came back the next +evening. I don't know why. It is not her sea- +son, of course. Many of them go over in the +fall. Then the pond is full of strange voices +every night." + + Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked +thoughtful. "Ask him, Alexandra, if it is true +that a sea gull came here once. I have heard so." + + She had some difficulty in making the old +man understand. + + He looked puzzled at first, then smote his +hands together as he remembered. "Oh, yes, +yes! A big white bird with long wings and pink +feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in +the afternoon and kept flying about the pond +and screaming until dark. She was in trouble +of some sort, but I could not understand her. +She was going over to the other ocean, maybe, +and did not know how far it was. She was +afraid of never getting there. She was more +mournful than our birds here; she cried in the +night. She saw the light from my window and +darted up to it. Maybe she thought my house +was a boat, she was such a wild thing. Next +morning, when the sun rose, I went out to take +her food, but she flew up into the sky and went +on her way." Ivar ran his fingers through his +thick hair. "I have many strange birds stop +with me here. They come from very far away +and are great company. I hope you boys never +shoot wild birds?" + + Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his +bushy head. "Yes, I know boys are thoughtless. +But these wild things are God's birds. He +watches over them and counts them, as we do +our cattle; Christ says so in the New Testa- +ment." + + "Now, Ivar," Lou asked, "may we water +our horses at your pond and give them some +feed? It's a bad road to your place." + + "Yes, yes, it is." The old man scrambled +about and began to loose the tugs. "A bad +road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at +home!" + + Oscar brushed the old man aside. "We'll +take care of the horses, Ivar. You'll be finding +some disease on them. Alexandra wants to see +your hammocks." + + Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little +cave house. He had but one room, neatly plas- +tered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden +floor. There was a kitchen stove, a table cov- +ered with oilcloth, two chairs, a clock, a calen- +dar, a few books on the window-shelf; nothing +more. But the place was as clean as a cup- +board. + + "But where do you sleep, Ivar?" Emil asked, +looking about. + + Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the +wall; in it was rolled a buffalo robe. "There, +my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in +winter I wrap up in this skin. Where I go to +work, the beds are not half so easy as this." + + By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. +He thought a cave a very superior kind of +house. There was something pleasantly unusual +about it and about Ivar. "Do the birds know +you will be kind to them, Ivar? Is that why so +many come?" he asked. + + Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his +feet under him. "See, little brother, they have +come from a long way, and they are very tired. +From up there where they are flying, our coun- +try looks dark and flat. They must have water +to drink and to bathe in before they can go on +with their journey. They look this way and +that, and far below them they see something +shining, like a piece of glass set in the dark +earth. That is my pond. They come to it and +are not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a little +corn. They tell the other birds, and next year +more come this way. They have their roads up +there, as we have down here." + + Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. "And +is that true, Ivar, about the head ducks falling +back when they are tired, and the hind ones +taking their place?" + + "Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst +of it; they cut the wind. They can only stand +it there a little while--half an hour, maybe. +Then they fall back and the wedge splits a little, +while the rear ones come up the middle to the +front. Then it closes up and they fly on, with a +new edge. They are always changing like +that, up in the air. Never any confusion; just +like soldiers who have been drilled." + + Alexandra had selected her hammock by the +time the boys came up from the pond. They +would not come in, but sat in the shade of the +bank outside while Alexandra and Ivar talked +about the birds and about his housekeeping, +and why he never ate meat, fresh or salt. + + Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden +chairs, her arms resting on the table. Ivar was +sitting on the floor at her feet. "Ivar," she said +suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the +oilcloth with her forefinger, "I came to-day +more because I wanted to talk to you than be- +cause I wanted to buy a hammock." + + "Yes?" The old man scraped his bare feet +on the plank floor. + + "We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I +wouldn't sell in the spring, when everybody +advised me to, and now so many people are +losing their hogs that I am frightened. What +can be done?" + + Ivar's little eyes began to shine. They lost +their vagueness. + + "You feed them swill and such stuff? Of +course! And sour milk? Oh, yes! And keep +them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, the +hogs of this country are put upon! They be- +come unclean, like the hogs in the Bible. If you +kept your chickens like that, what would hap- +pen? You have a little sorghum patch, maybe? +Put a fence around it, and turn the hogs in. +Build a shed to give them shade, a thatch on +poles. Let the boys haul water to them in bar- +rels, clean water, and plenty. Get them off the +old stinking ground, and do not let them go +back there until winter. Give them only grain +and clean feed, such as you would give horses +or cattle. Hogs do not like to be filthy." + + The boys outside the door had been listening. +Lou nudged his brother. "Come, the horses +are done eating. Let's hitch up and get out of +here. He'll fill her full of notions. She'll be for +having the pigs sleep with us, next." + + Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could +not understand what Ivar said, saw that the +two boys were displeased. They did not mind +hard work, but they hated experiments and +could never see the use of taking pains. Even +Lou, who was more elastic than his older bro- +ther, disliked to do anything different from +their neighbors. He felt that it made them +conspicuous and gave people a chance to talk +about them. + + Once they were on the homeward road, the +boys forgot their ill-humor and joked about +Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose +any reforms in the care of the pigs, and they +hoped she had forgotten Ivar's talk. They +agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would +never be able to prove up on his land because +he worked it so little. Alexandra privately +resolved that she would have a talk with Ivar +about this and stir him up. The boys persuaded +Carl to stay for supper and go swimming in the +pasture pond after dark. + + That evening, after she had washed the sup- +per dishes, Alexandra sat down on the kitchen +doorstep, while her mother was mixing the +bread. It was a still, deep-breathing summer +night, full of the smell of the hay fields. Sounds +of laughter and splashing came up from the +pasture, and when the moon rose rapidly above +the bare rim of the prairie, the pond glittered +like polished metal, and she could see the flash +of white bodies as the boys ran about the edge, +or jumped into the water. Alexandra watched +the shimmering pool dreamily, but eventually +her eyes went back to the sorghum patch south +of the barn, where she was planning to make her +new pig corral. + + + + IV + + + For the first three years after John Bergson's +death, the affairs of his family prospered. Then +came the hard times that brought every one on +the Divide to the brink of despair; three years +of drouth and failure, the last struggle of a wild +soil against the encroaching plowshare. The +first of these fruitless summers the Bergson boys +bore courageously. The failure of the corn +crop made labor cheap. Lou and Oscar hired +two men and put in bigger crops than ever +before. They lost everything they spent. The +whole country was discouraged. Farmers who +were already in debt had to give up their +land. A few foreclosures demoralized the +county. The settlers sat about on the wooden +sidewalks in the little town and told each other +that the country was never meant for men to +live in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, +to Illinois, to any place that had been proved +habitable. The Bergson boys, certainly, would +have been happier with their uncle Otto, in the +bakery shop in Chicago. Like most of their +neighbors, they were meant to follow in paths +already marked out for them, not to break +trails in a new country. A steady job, a few +holidays, nothing to think about, and they +would have been very happy. It was no fault +of theirs that they had been dragged into the +wilderness when they were little boys. A +pioneer should have imagination, should be +able to enjoy the idea of things more than the +things themselves. + + The second of these barren summers was +passing. One September afternoon Alexandra +had gone over to the garden across the draw to +dig sweet potatoes--they had been thriving +upon the weather that was fatal to everything +else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the +garden rows to find her, she was not working. +She was standing lost in thought, leaning upon +her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying beside her +on the ground. The dry garden patch smelled +of drying vines and was strewn with yellow +seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and citrons. +At one end, next the rhubarb, grew feathery +asparagus, with red berries. Down the middle +of the garden was a row of gooseberry and cur- +rant bushes. A few tough zenias and marigolds +and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the +buckets of water that Mrs. Bergson had carried +there after sundown, against the prohibition of +her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the +garden path, looking intently at Alexandra. +She did not hear him. She was standing per- +fectly still, with that serious ease so character- +istic of her. Her thick, reddish braids, twisted +about her head, fairly burned in the sunlight. +The air was cool enough to make the warm sun +pleasant on one's back and shoulders, and so +clear that the eye could follow a hawk up and +up, into the blazing blue depths of the sky. +Even Carl, never a very cheerful boy, and con- +siderably darkened by these last two bitter +years, loved the country on days like this, felt +something strong and young and wild come out +of it, that laughed at care. + + "Alexandra," he said as he approached her, +"I want to talk to you. Let's sit down by the +gooseberry bushes." He picked up her sack of +potatoes and they crossed the garden. "Boys +gone to town?" he asked as he sank down on +the warm, sun-baked earth. "Well, we have +made up our minds at last, Alexandra. We are +really going away." + + She looked at him as if she were a little fright- +ened. "Really, Carl? Is it settled?" + + "Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and +they will give him back his old job in the cigar +factory. He must be there by the first of +November. They are taking on new men then. +We will sell the place for whatever we can get, +and auction the stock. We haven't enough to +ship. I am going to learn engraving with a +German engraver there, and then try to get +work in Chicago." + + Alexandra's hands dropped in her lap. Her +eyes became dreamy and filled with tears. + + Carl's sensitive lower lip trembled. He +scratched in the soft earth beside him with a +stick. "That's all I hate about it, Alexandra," +he said slowly. "You've stood by us through +so much and helped father out so many times, +and now it seems as if we were running off and +leaving you to face the worst of it. But it isn't +as if we could really ever be of any help to you. +We are only one more drag, one more thing you +look out for and feel responsible for. Father +was never meant for a farmer, you know that. +And I hate it. We'd only get in deeper and +deeper." + + "Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting +your life here. You are able to do much better +things. You are nearly nineteen now, and I +wouldn't have you stay. I've always hoped +you would get away. But I can't help feeling +scared when I think how I will miss you-- +more than you will ever know." She brushed +the tears from her cheeks, not trying to hide +them. + + "But, Alexandra," he said sadly and wist- +fully, "I've never been any real help to you, +beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in a +good humor." + + Alexandra smiled and shook her head. "Oh, +it's not that. Nothing like that. It's by under- +standing me, and the boys, and mother, that +you've helped me. I expect that is the only +way one person ever really can help another. +I think you are about the only one that ever +helped me. Somehow it will take more courage +to bear your going than everything that has +happened before." + + Carl looked at the ground. "You see, we've +all depended so on you," he said, "even father. +He makes me laugh. When anything comes up +he always says, 'I wonder what the Bergsons are +going to do about that? I guess I'll go and ask +her.' I'll never forget that time, when we first +came here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran +over to your place--your father was away, +and you came home with me and showed father +how to let the wind out of the horse. You were +only a little girl then, but you knew ever so +much more about farm work than poor father. +You remember how homesick I used to get, +and what long talks we used to have coming +from school? We've someway always felt alike +about things." + + "Yes, that's it; we've liked the same things +and we've liked them together, without any- +body else knowing. And we've had good times, +hunting for Christmas trees and going for ducks +and making our plum wine together every year. +We've never either of us had any other close +friend. And now--" Alexandra wiped her +eyes with the corner of her apron, "and now I +must remember that you are going where you +will have many friends, and will find the work +you were meant to do. But you'll write to me, +Carl? That will mean a great deal to me here." + + "I'll write as long as I live," cried the boy +impetuously. "And I'll be working for you as +much as for myself, Alexandra. I want to do +something you'll like and be proud of. I'm a +fool here, but I know I can do something!" He +sat up and frowned at the red grass. + + Alexandra sighed. "How discouraged the +boys will be when they hear. They always +come home from town discouraged, anyway. +So many people are trying to leave the country, +and they talk to our boys and make them low- +spirited. I'm afraid they are beginning to feel +hard toward me because I won't listen to any +talk about going. Sometimes I feel like I'm +getting tired of standing up for this country." + + "I won't tell the boys yet, if you'd rather +not." + + "Oh, I'll tell them myself, to-night, when +they come home. They'll be talking wild, any- +way, and no good comes of keeping bad news. +It's all harder on them than it is on me. Lou +wants to get married, poor boy, and he can't +until times are better. See, there goes the sun, +Carl. I must be getting back. Mother will want +her potatoes. It's chilly already, the moment +the light goes." + + Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden +afterglow throbbed in the west, but the coun- +try already looked empty and mournful. A +dark moving mass came over the western hill, +the Lee boy was bringing in the herd from the +other half-section. Emil ran from the windmill +to open the corral gate. From the log house, on +the little rise across the draw, the smoke was +curling. The cattle lowed and bellowed. In +the sky the pale half-moon was slowly silvering. +Alexandra and Carl walked together down the +potato rows. "I have to keep telling myself +what is going to happen," she said softly. +"Since you have been here, ten years now, I +have never really been lonely. But I can +remember what it was like before. Now I shall +have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and +he is tender-hearted." + + That night, when the boys were called to +supper, they sat down moodily. They had +worn their coats to town, but they ate in their +striped shirts and suspenders. They were grown +men now, and, as Alexandra said, for the last +few years they had been growing more and +more like themselves. Lou was still the slighter +of the two, the quicker and more intelligent, but +apt to go off at half-cock. He had a lively blue +eye, a thin, fair skin (always burned red to the +neckband of his shirt in summer), stiff, yellow +hair that would not lie down on his head, and a +bristly little yellow mustache, of which he +was very proud. Oscar could not grow a mus- +tache; his pale face was as bare as an egg, and +his white eyebrows gave it an empty look. He +was a man of powerful body and unusual endur- +ance; the sort of man you could attach to a +corn-sheller as you would an engine. He would +turn it all day, without hurrying, without slow- +ing down. But he was as indolent of mind as +he was unsparing of his body. His love of +routine amounted to a vice. He worked like an +insect, always doing the same thing over in the +same way, regardless of whether it was best or +no. He felt that there was a sovereign virtue +in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to do +things in the hardest way. If a field had once +been in corn, he couldn't bear to put it into +wheat. He liked to begin his corn-planting at +the same time every year, whether the season +were backward or forward. He seemed to feel +that by his own irreproachable regularity he +would clear himself of blame and reprove the +weather. When the wheat crop failed, he +threshed the straw at a dead loss to demon- +strate how little grain there was, and thus +prove his case against Providence. + + Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and +flighty; always planned to get through two +days' work in one, and often got only the least +important things done. He liked to keep the +place up, but he never got round to doing odd +jobs until he had to neglect more pressing work +to attend to them. In the middle of the wheat +harvest, when the grain was over-ripe and every +hand was needed, he would stop to mend fences +or to patch the harness; then dash down to the +field and overwork and be laid up in bed for a +week. The two boys balanced each other, and +they pulled well together. They had been good +friends since they were children. One seldom +went anywhere, even to town, without the other. + + To-night, after they sat down to supper, +Oscar kept looking at Lou as if he expected him +to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes and +frowned at his plate. It was Alexandra herself +who at last opened the discussion. + + "The Linstrums," she said calmly, as she +put another plate of hot biscuit on the table, +"are going back to St. Louis. The old man is +going to work in the cigar factory again." + + At this Lou plunged in. "You see, Alex- +andra, everybody who can crawl out is going +away. There's no use of us trying to stick it +out, just to be stubborn. There's something in +knowing when to quit." + + "Where do you want to go, Lou?" + + "Any place where things will grow." said +Oscar grimly. + + Lou reached for a potato. "Chris Arnson has +traded his half-section for a place down on the +river." + + "Who did he trade with?" + + "Charley Fuller, in town." + + "Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, +that Fuller has a head on him. He's buy- +ing and trading for every bit of land he can +get up here. It'll make him a rich man, some +day." + + "He's rich now, that's why he can take a +chance." + + "Why can't we? We'll live longer than he +will. Some day the land itself will be worth +more than all we can ever raise on it." + + Lou laughed. "It could be worth that, and +still not be worth much. Why, Alexandra, you +don't know what you're talking about. Our +place wouldn't bring now what it would six +years ago. The fellows that settled up here just +made a mistake. Now they're beginning to see +this high land wasn't never meant to grow no- +thing on, and everybody who ain't fixed to graze +cattle is trying to crawl out. It's too high to +farm up here. All the Americans are skinning +out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, +told me that he was going to let Fuller take his +land and stuff for four hundred dollars and a +ticket to Chicago." + + "There's Fuller again!" Alexandra ex- +claimed. "I wish that man would take me for a +partner. He's feathering his nest! If only poor +people could learn a little from rich people! +But all these fellows who are running off are +bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. They +couldn't get ahead even in good years, and they +all got into debt while father was getting out. +I think we ought to hold on as long as we can on +father's account. He was so set on keeping this +land. He must have seen harder times than this, +here. How was it in the early days, mother?" + + Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These +family discussions always depressed her, and +made her remember all that she had been torn +away from. "I don't see why the boys are +always taking on about going away," she said, +wiping her eyes. "I don't want to move again; +out to some raw place, maybe, where we'd be +worse off than we are here, and all to do over +again. I won't move! If the rest of you go, I +will ask some of the neighbors to take me in, +and stay and be buried by father. I'm not +going to leave him by himself on the prairie, +for cattle to run over." She began to cry more +bitterly. + + The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a +soothing hand on her mother's shoulder. +"There's no question of that, mother. You +don't have to go if you don't want to. A third +of the place belongs to you by American law, +and we can't sell without your consent. We only +want you to advise us. How did it use to be +when you and father first came? Was it really +as bad as this, or not?" + + "Oh, worse! Much worse," moaned Mrs. +Bergson. "Drouth, chince-bugs, hail, every- +thing! My garden all cut to pieces like sauer- +kraut. No grapes on the creek, no nothing. +The people all lived just like coyotes." + + Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. +Lou followed him. They felt that Alexandra +had taken an unfair advantage in turning their +mother loose on them. The next morning they +were silent and reserved. They did not offer +to take the women to church, but went down +to the barn immediately after breakfast and +stayed there all day. When Carl Linstrum came +over in the afternoon, Alexandra winked to +him and pointed toward the barn. He under- +stood her and went down to play cards with the +boys. They believed that a very wicked thing +to do on Sunday, and it relieved their feelings. + + Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday +afternoon Mrs. Bergson always took a nap, and +Alexandra read. During the week she read only +the newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long +evenings of winter, she read a good deal; read +a few things over a great many times. She knew +long portions of the "Frithjof Saga" by heart, +and, like most Swedes who read at all, she was +fond of Longfellow's verse,--the ballads and +the "Golden Legend" and "The Spanish Stu- +dent." To-day she sat in the wooden rocking- +chair with the Swedish Bible open on her knees, +but she was not reading. She was looking +thoughtfully away at the point where the up- +land road disappeared over the rim of the +prairie. Her body was in an attitude of perfect +repose, such as it was apt to take when she was +thinking earnestly. Her mind was slow, truth- +ful, steadfast. She had not the least spark of +cleverness. + + All afternoon the sitting-room was full of +quiet and sunlight. Emil was making rabbit +traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were cluck- +ing and scratching brown holes in the flower +beds, and the wind was teasing the prince's +feather by the door. + + That evening Carl came in with the boys to +supper. + + "Emil," said Alexandra, when they were all +seated at the table, "how would you like to go +traveling? Because I am going to take a trip, +and you can go with me if you want to." + + The boys looked up in amazement; they were +always afraid of Alexandra's schemes. Carl +was interested. + + "I've been thinking, boys," she went on, +"that maybe I am too set against making a +change. I'm going to take Brigham and the +buckboard to-morrow and drive down to +the river country and spend a few days looking +over what they've got down there. If I find +anything good, you boys can go down and make +a trade." + + "Nobody down there will trade for anything +up here," said Oscar gloomily. + + "That's just what I want to find out. Maybe +they are just as discontented down there as we +are up here. Things away from home often look +better than they are. You know what your +Hans Andersen book says, Carl, about the +Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and the +Danes liking to buy Swedish bread, because +people always think the bread of another +country is better than their own. Anyway, +I've heard so much about the river farms, I +won't be satisfied till I've seen for myself." + + Lou fidgeted. "Look out! Don't agree to +anything. Don't let them fool you." + + Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not +yet learned to keep away from the shell-game +wagons that followed the circus. + + After supper Lou put on a necktie and went +across the fields to court Annie Lee, and Carl +and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, while +Alexandra read "The Swiss Family Robinson" +aloud to her mother and Emil. It was not long +before the two boys at the table neglected their +game to listen. They were all big children +together, and they found the adventures of the +family in the tree house so absorbing that they +gave them their undivided attention. + + + + V + + + Alexandra and Emil spent five days down +among the river farms, driving up and down +the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about +their crops and to the women about their poul- +try. She spent a whole day with one young +farmer who had been away at school, and who +was experimenting with a new kind of clover +hay. She learned a great deal. As they drove +along, she and Emil talked and planned. At +last, on the sixth day, Alexandra turned Brig- +ham's head northward and left the river behind. + + "There's nothing in it for us down there, +Emil. There are a few fine farms, but they are +owned by the rich men in town, and couldn't be +bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. +They can always scrape along down there, but +they can never do anything big. Down there +they have a little certainty, but up with us +there is a big chance. We must have faith in +the high land, Emil. I want to hold on harder +than ever, and when you're a man you'll thank +me." She urged Brigham forward. + + When the road began to climb the first long +swells of the Divide, Alexandra hummed an old +Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his +sister looked so happy. Her face was so radiant +that he felt shy about asking her. For the first +time, perhaps, since that land emerged from +the waters of geologic ages, a human face was +set toward it with love and yearning. It seemed +beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. +Her eyes drank in the breadth of it, until her +tears blinded her. Then the Genius of the +Divide, the great, free spirit which breathes +across it, must have bent lower than it ever +bent to a human will before. The history of +every country begins in the heart of a man or +a woman. + + Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. +That evening she held a family council and told +her brothers all that she had seen and heard. + + "I want you boys to go down yourselves and +look it over. Nothing will convince you like +seeing with your own eyes. The river land was +settled before this, and so they are a few years +ahead of us, and have learned more about farm- +ing. The land sells for three times as much as +this, but in five years we will double it. The +rich men down there own all the best land, and +they are buying all they can get. The thing to +do is to sell our cattle and what little old corn +we have, and buy the Linstrum place. Then +the next thing to do is to take out two loans on +our half-sections, and buy Peter Crow's place; +raise every dollar we can, and buy every acre +we can." + + "Mortgage the homestead again?" Lou cried. +He sprang up and began to wind the clock +furiously. "I won't slave to pay off another +mortgage. I'll never do it. You'd just as +soon kill us all, Alexandra, to carry out some +scheme!" + + Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. "How +do you propose to pay off your mortgages?" + + Alexandra looked from one to the other and +bit her lip. They had never seen her so ner- +vous. "See here," she brought out at last. +"We borrow the money for six years. Well, +with the money we buy a half-section from +Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter +from Struble, maybe. That will give us up- +wards of fourteen hundred acres, won't it? +You won't have to pay off your mortgages for +six years. By that time, any of this land will be +worth thirty dollars an acre--it will be worth +fifty, but we'll say thirty; then you can sell a +garden patch anywhere, and pay off a debt of +sixteen hundred dollars. It's not the principal +I'm worried about, it's the interest and taxes. +We'll have to strain to meet the payments. But +as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can +sit down here ten years from now independent +landowners, not struggling farmers any longer. +The chance that father was always looking for +has come." + + Lou was pacing the floor. "But how do you +KNOW that land is going to go up enough to pay +the mortgages and--" + + "And make us rich besides?" Alexandra put +in firmly. "I can't explain that, Lou. You'll +have to take my word for it. I KNOW, that's all. +When you drive about over the country you +can feel it coming." + + Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, +his hands hanging between his knees. "But we +can't work so much land," he said dully, as if he +were talking to himself. "We can't even try. +It would just lie there and we'd work ourselves +to death." He sighed, and laid his calloused +fist on the table. + + Alexandra's eyes filled with tears. She put +her hand on his shoulder. "You poor boy, you +won't have to work it. The men in town who +are buying up other people's land don't try to +farm it. They are the men to watch, in a new +country. Let's try to do like the shrewd ones, +and not like these stupid fellows. I don't want +you boys always to have to work like this. I +want you to be independent, and Emil to go +to school." + + Lou held his head as if it were splitting. +"Everybody will say we are crazy. It must be +crazy, or everybody would be doing it." + + "If they were, we wouldn't have much +chance. No, Lou, I was talking about that with +the smart young man who is raising the new +kind of clover. He says the right thing is usu- +ally just what everybody don't do. Why are +we better fixed than any of our neighbors? +Because father had more brains. Our people +were better people than these in the old coun- +try. We OUGHT to do more than they do, and see +further ahead. Yes, mother, I'm going to clear +the table now." + + Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable +to see to the stock, and they were gone a long +while. When they came back Lou played on +his DRAGHARMONIKA and Oscar sat figuring at his +father's secretary all evening. They said no- +thing more about Alexandra's project, but she +felt sure now that they would consent to it. +Just before bedtime Oscar went out for a pail of +water. When he did not come back, Alexandra +threw a shawl over her head and ran down the +path to the windmill. She found him sitting +there with his head in his hands, and she sat +down beside him. + + "Don't do anything you don't want to do, +Oscar," she whispered. She waited a moment, +but he did not stir. "I won't say any more +about it, if you'd rather not. What makes you +so discouraged?" + + "I dread signing my name to them pieces of +paper," he said slowly. "All the time I was a +boy we had a mortgage hanging over us." + + "Then don't sign one. I don't want you to, +if you feel that way." + + Oscar shook his head. "No, I can see there's +a chance that way. I've thought a good while +there might be. We're in so deep now, we +might as well go deeper. But it's hard work +pulling out of debt. Like pulling a threshing- +machine out of the mud; breaks your back. Me +and Lou's worked hard, and I can't see it's got +us ahead much." + + "Nobody knows about that as well as I do, +Oscar. That's why I want to try an easier way. +I don't want you to have to grub for every +dollar." + + "Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it'll +come out right. But signing papers is signing +papers. There ain't no maybe about that." +He took his pail and trudged up the path to the +house. + + Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her +and stood leaning against the frame of the mill, +looking at the stars which glittered so keenly +through the frosty autumn air. She always +loved to watch them, to think of their vastness +and distance, and of their ordered march. It +fortified her to reflect upon the great operations +of nature, and when she thought of the law that +lay behind them, she felt a sense of personal +security. That night she had a new conscious- +ness of the country, felt almost a new relation +to it. Even her talk with the boys had not +taken away the feeling that had overwhelmed +her when she drove back to the Divide that +afternoon. She had never known before how +much the country meant to her. The chirping +of the insects down in the long grass had been +like the sweetest music. She had felt as if +her heart were hiding down there, somewhere, +with the quail and the plover and all the lit- +tle wild things that crooned or buzzed in the +sun. Under the long shaggy ridges, she felt the +future stirring. + + + + + + + PART II + + Neighboring Fields + + + + + I + + + IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. +His wife now lies beside him, and the white +shaft that marks their graves gleams across the +wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, +he would not know the country under which he +has been asleep. The shaggy coat of the prairie, +which they lifted to make him a bed, has van- +ished forever. From the Norwegian graveyard +one looks out over a vast checker-board, marked +off in squares of wheat and corn; light and +dark, dark and light. Telephone wires hum +along the white roads, which always run at +right angles. From the graveyard gate one can +count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the +gilded weather-vanes on the big red barns wink +at each other across the green and brown and +yellow fields. The light steel windmills trem- +ble throughout their frames and tug at their +moorings, as they vibrate in the wind that often +blows from one week's end to another across +that high, active, resolute stretch of country. + + The Divide is now thickly populated. The +rich soil yields heavy harvests; the dry, bracing +climate and the smoothness of the land make +labor easy for men and beasts. There are few +scenes more gratifying than a spring plowing +in that country, where the furrows of a single +field often lie a mile in length, and the brown +earth, with such a strong, clean smell, and such +a power of growth and fertility in it, yields itself +eagerly to the plow; rolls away from the shear, +not even dimming the brightness of the metal, +with a soft, deep sigh of happiness. The wheat- +cutting sometimes goes on all night as well as +all day, and in good seasons there are scarcely +men and horses enough to do the harvesting. +The grain is so heavy that it bends toward the +blade and cuts like velvet. + + There is something frank and joyous and +young in the open face of the country. It gives +itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, +holding nothing back. Like the plains of Lom- +bardy, it seems to rise a little to meet the sun. +The air and the earth are curiously mated and +intermingled, as if the one were the breath of +the other. You feel in the atmosphere the same +tonic, puissant quality that is in the tilth, the +same strength and resoluteness. + + One June morning a young man stood at the +gate of the Norwegian graveyard, sharpening +his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to the +tune he was whistling. He wore a flannel cap +and duck trousers, and the sleeves of his white +flannel shirt were rolled back to the elbow. +When he was satisfied with the edge of his +blade, he slipped the whetstone into his hip +pocket and began to swing his scythe, still +whistling, but softly, out of respect to the quiet +folk about him. Unconscious respect, probably, +for he seemed intent upon his own thoughts, +and, like the Gladiator's, they were far away. +He was a splendid figure of a boy, tall and +straight as a young pine tree, with a hand- +some head, and stormy gray eyes, deeply set +under a serious brow. The space between his +two front teeth, which were unusually far +apart, gave him the proficiency in whistling +for which he was distinguished at college. +(He also played the cornet in the University +band.) + + When the grass required his close attention, +or when he had to stoop to cut about a head- +stone, he paused in his lively air,--the "Jewel" +song,--taking it up where he had left it when +his scythe swung free again. He was not think- +ing about the tired pioneers over whom his +blade glittered. The old wild country, the +struggle in which his sister was destined to suc- +ceed while so many men broke their hearts and +died, he can scarcely remember. That is all +among the dim things of childhood and has been +forgotten in the brighter pattern life weaves +to-day, in the bright facts of being captain of +the track team, and holding the interstate +record for the high jump, in the all-suffusing +brightness of being twenty-one. Yet some- +times, in the pauses of his work, the young man +frowned and looked at the ground with an +intentness which suggested that even twenty- +one might have its problems. + + When he had been mowing the better part of +an hour, he heard the rattle of a light cart on +the road behind him. Supposing that it was +his sister coming back from one of her farms, +he kept on with his work. The cart stopped at +the gate and a merry contralto voice called, +"Almost through, Emil?" He dropped his +scythe and went toward the fence, wiping his +face and neck with his handkerchief. In the +cart sat a young woman who wore driving +gauntlets and a wide shade hat, trimmed with +red poppies. Her face, too, was rather like a +poppy, round and brown, with rich color in her +cheeks and lips, and her dancing yellow-brown +eyes bubbled with gayety. The wind was flap- +ping her big hat and teasing a curl of her +chestnut-colored hair. She shook her head at +the tall youth. + + "What time did you get over here? That's +not much of a job for an athlete. Here I've +been to town and back. Alexandra lets you +sleep late. Oh, I know! Lou's wife was telling +me about the way she spoils you. I was going +to give you a lift, if you were done." She gath- +ered up her reins. + + "But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for +me, Marie," Emil coaxed. "Alexandra sent me +to mow our lot, but I've done half a dozen +others, you see. Just wait till I finish off the +Kourdnas'. By the way, they were Bohemians. +Why aren't they up in the Catholic grave- +yard?" + + "Free-thinkers," replied the young woman +laconically. + + "Lots of the Bohemian boys at the Univer- +sity are," said Emil, taking up his scythe again. +"What did you ever burn John Huss for, any- +way? It's made an awful row. They still jaw +about it in history classes." + + "We'd do it right over again, most of us," +said the young woman hotly. "Don't they ever +teach you in your history classes that you'd all +be heathen Turks if it hadn't been for the +Bohemians?" + + Emil had fallen to mowing. "Oh, there's no +denying you're a spunky little bunch, you +Czechs," he called back over his shoulder. + + Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat +and watched the rhythmical movement of the +young man's long arms, swinging her foot as +if in time to some air that was going through +her mind. The minutes passed. Emil mowed +vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and +watching the long grass fall. She sat with the +ease that belongs to persons of an essentially +happy nature, who can find a comfortable spot +almost anywhere; who are supple, and quick in +adapting themselves to circumstances. After a +final swish, Emil snapped the gate and sprang +into the cart, holding his scythe well out over +the wheel. "There," he sighed. "I gave old +man Lee a cut or so, too. Lou's wife needn't +talk. I never see Lou's scythe over here." + + Marie clucked to her horse. "Oh, you know +Annie!" She looked at the young man's bare +arms. "How brown you've got since you came +home. I wish I had an athlete to mow my +orchard. I get wet to my knees when I go +down to pick cherries." + + "You can have one, any time you want him. +Better wait until after it rains." Emil squinted +off at the horizon as if he were looking for clouds. + + "Will you? Oh, there's a good boy!" She +turned her head to him with a quick, bright +smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, +he had looked away with the purpose of not see- +ing it. "I've been up looking at Angelique's +wedding clothes," Marie went on, "and I'm so +excited I can hardly wait until Sunday. Ame- +dee will be a handsome bridegroom. Is any- +body but you going to stand up with him? Well, +then it will be a handsome wedding party." +She made a droll face at Emil, who flushed. +"Frank," Marie continued, flicking her horse, +"is cranky at me because I loaned his saddle +to Jan Smirka, and I'm terribly afraid he won't +take me to the dance in the evening. Maybe +the supper will tempt him. All Angelique's +folks are baking for it, and all Amedee's twenty +cousins. There will be barrels of beer. If once +I get Frank to the supper, I'll see that I stay +for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you +mustn't dance with me but once or twice. You +must dance with all the French girls. It hurts +their feelings if you don't. They think you're +proud because you've been away to school or +something." + + Emil sniffed. "How do you know they think +that?" + + "Well, you didn't dance with them much at +Raoul Marcel's party, and I could tell how they +took it by the way they looked at you--and at +me." + + "All right," said Emil shortly, studying the +glittering blade of his scythe. + + They drove westward toward Norway Creek, +and toward a big white house that stood on a +hill, several miles across the fields. There were +so many sheds and outbuildings grouped about +it that the place looked not unlike a tiny village. +A stranger, approaching it, could not help notic- +ing the beauty and fruitfulness of the outlying +fields. There was something individual about +the great farm, a most unusual trimness and +care for detail. On either side of the road, for a +mile before you reached the foot of the hill, +stood tall osage orange hedges, their glossy +green marking off the yellow fields. South of +the hill, in a low, sheltered swale, surrounded by +a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, its fruit trees +knee-deep in timothy grass. Any one there- +abouts would have told you that this was one +of the richest farms on the Divide, and that +the farmer was a woman, Alexandra Bergson. + + If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra's +big house, you will find that it is curiously +unfinished and uneven in comfort. One room +is papered, carpeted, over-furnished; the next +is almost bare. The pleasantest rooms in the +house are the kitchen--where Alexandra's +three young Swedish girls chatter and cook and +pickle and preserve all summer long--and the +sitting-room, in which Alexandra has brought +together the old homely furniture that the +Bergsons used in their first log house, the fam- +ily portraits, and the few things her mother +brought from Sweden. + + When you go out of the house into the flower +garden, there you feel again the order and fine +arrangement manifest all over the great farm; +in the fencing and hedging, in the windbreaks +and sheds, in the symmetrical pasture ponds, +planted with scrub willows to give shade to the +cattle in fly-time. There is even a white row of +beehives in the orchard, under the walnut trees. +You feel that, properly, Alexandra's house is +the big out-of-doors, and that it is in the soil +that she expresses herself best. + + + + II + + + Emil reached home a little past noon, and +when he went into the kitchen Alexandra was +already seated at the head of the long table, +having dinner with her men, as she always did +unless there were visitors. He slipped into his +empty place at his sister's right. The three +pretty young Swedish girls who did Alexandra's +housework were cutting pies, refilling coffee- +cups, placing platters of bread and meat and +potatoes upon the red tablecloth, and continu- +ally getting in each other's way between the +table and the stove. To be sure they always +wasted a good deal of time getting in each other's +way and giggling at each other's mistakes. But, +as Alexandra had pointedly told her sisters-in- +law, it was to hear them giggle that she kept +three young things in her kitchen; the work she +could do herself, if it were necessary. These +girls, with their long letters from home, their +finery, and their love-affairs, afforded her a +great deal of entertainment, and they were com- +pany for her when Emil was away at school. + + Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty +figure, mottled pink cheeks, and yellow hair, +Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps a +sharp eye upon her. Signa is apt to be skittish +at mealtime, when the men are about, and to +spill the coffee or upset the cream. It is sup- +posed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six men at +the dinner-table, is courting Signa, though he +has been so careful not to commit himself that +no one in the house, least of all Signa, can tell +just how far the matter has progressed. Nelse +watches her glumly as she waits upon the table, +and in the evening he sits on a bench behind the +stove with his DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful +airs and watching her as she goes about her +work. When Alexandra asked Signa whether +she thought Nelse was in earnest, the poor child +hid her hands under her apron and murmured, +"I don't know, ma'm. But he scolds me about +everything, like as if he wanted to have me!" + + At Alexandra's left sat a very old man, bare- +foot and wearing a long blue blouse, open at the +neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter than +it was sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes +have become pale and watery, and his ruddy +face is withered, like an apple that has clung +all winter to the tree. When Ivar lost his land +through mismanagement a dozen years ago, +Alexandra took him in, and he has been a mem- +ber of her household ever since. He is too old to +work in the fields, but he hitches and unhitches +the work-teams and looks after the health +of the stock. Sometimes of a winter evening +Alexandra calls him into the sitting-room to +read the Bible aloud to her, for he still reads +very well. He dislikes human habitations, so +Alexandra has fitted him up a room in the barn, +where he is very comfortable, being near the +horses and, as he says, further from tempta- +tions. No one has ever found out what his +temptations are. In cold weather he sits by the +kitchen fire and makes hammocks or mends +harness until it is time to go to bed. Then he +says his prayers at great length behind the +stove, puts on his buffalo-skin coat and goes +out to his room in the barn. + + Alexandra herself has changed very little. +Her figure is fuller, and she has more color. She +seems sunnier and more vigorous than she did as +a young girl. But she still has the same calmness +and deliberation of manner, the same clear eyes, +and she still wears her hair in two braids wound +round her head. It is so curly that fiery ends +escape from the braids and make her head look +like one of the big double sunflowers that fringe +her vegetable garden. Her face is always tanned +in summer, for her sunbonnet is oftener on her +arm than on her head. But where her collar +falls away from her neck, or where her sleeves +are pushed back from her wrist, the skin is of +such smoothness and whiteness as none but +Swedish women ever possess; skin with the +freshness of the snow itself. + + Alexandra did not talk much at the table, +but she encouraged her men to talk, and she +always listened attentively, even when they +seemed to be talking foolishly. + + To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed +Irishman who had been with Alexandra for five +years and who was actually her foreman, though +he had no such title, was grumbling about the +new silo she had put up that spring. It hap- +pened to be the first silo on the Divide, and +Alexandra's neighbors and her men were skep- +tical about it. "To be sure, if the thing don't +work, we'll have plenty of feed without it, +indeed," Barney conceded. + + Nelse Jensen, Signa's gloomy suitor, had his +word. "Lou, he says he wouldn't have no silo +on his place if you'd give it to him. He says +the feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He +heard of somebody lost four head of horses, +feedin' 'em that stuff." + + Alexandra looked down the table from one +to another. "Well, the only way we can find +out is to try. Lou and I have different notions +about feeding stock, and that's a good thing. +It's bad if all the members of a family think +alike. They never get anywhere. Lou can learn +by my mistakes and I can learn by his. Isn't +that fair, Barney?" + + The Irishman laughed. He had no love for +Lou, who was always uppish with him and who +said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. +"I've no thought but to give the thing an honest +try, mum. 'T would be only right, after puttin' +so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will come +out an' have a look at it wid me." He pushed +back his chair, took his hat from the nail, and +marched out with Emil, who, with his univer- +sity ideas, was supposed to have instigated the +silo. The other hands followed them, all except +old Ivar. He had been depressed throughout +the meal and had paid no heed to the talk of +the men, even when they mentioned cornstalk +bloat, upon which he was sure to have opinions. + + "Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?" Alex- +andra asked as she rose from the table. "Come +into the sitting-room." + + The old man followed Alexandra, but when +she motioned him to a chair he shook his +head. She took up her workbasket and waited +for him to speak. He stood looking at the car- +pet, his bushy head bowed, his hands clasped in +front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed to have +grown shorter with years, and they were com- +pletely misfitted to his broad, thick body and +heavy shoulders. + + "Well, Ivar, what is it?" Alexandra asked +after she had waited longer than usual. + + Ivar had never learned to speak English and +his Norwegian was quaint and grave, like the +speech of the more old-fashioned people. He +always addressed Alexandra in terms of the +deepest respect, hoping to set a good example +to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too fam- +iliar in their manners. + + "Mistress," he began faintly, without raising +his eyes, "the folk have been looking coldly at +me of late. You know there has been talk." + + "Talk about what, Ivar?" + + "About sending me away; to the asylum." + + Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. +"Nobody has come to me with such talk," she +said decidedly. "Why need you listen? You +know I would never consent to such a thing." + + Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her +out of his little eyes. "They say that you can- +not prevent it if the folk complain of me, if your +brothers complain to the authorities. They say +that your brothers are afraid--God forbid!-- +that I may do you some injury when my spells +are on me. Mistress, how can any one think +that?--that I could bite the hand that fed +me!" The tears trickled down on the old man's +beard. + + Alexandra frowned. "Ivar, I wonder at you, +that you should come bothering me with such +nonsense. I am still running my own house, +and other people have nothing to do with +either you or me. So long as I am suited with +you, there is nothing to be said." + + Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the +breast of his blouse and wiped his eyes and +beard. "But I should not wish you to keep me +if, as they say, it is against your interests, and +if it is hard for you to get hands because I am +here." + + Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but +the old man put out his hand and went on +earnestly:-- + + "Listen, mistress, it is right that you should +take these things into account. You know that +my spells come from God, and that I would not +harm any living creature. You believe that +every one should worship God in the way +revealed to him. But that is not the way of +this country. The way here is for all to do alike. +I am despised because I do not wear shoes, +because I do not cut my hair, and because I +have visions. At home, in the old country, +there were many like me, who had been touched +by God, or who had seen things in the grave- +yard at night and were different afterward. We +thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But +here, if a man is different in his feet or in his +head, they put him in the asylum. Look at +Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out +of a creek, he swallowed a snake, and always +after that he could eat only such food as the +creature liked, for when he ate anything else, it +became enraged and gnawed him. When he +felt it whipping about in him, he drank alcohol +to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. He +could work as good as any man, and his head +was clear, but they locked him up for being +different in his stomach. That is the way; they +have built the asylum for people who are dif- +ferent, and they will not even let us live in the +holes with the badgers. Only your great pros- +perity has protected me so far. If you had had +ill-fortune, they would have taken me to Has- +tings long ago." + + As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra +had found that she could often break his fasts +and long penances by talking to him and let- +ting him pour out the thoughts that troubled +him. Sympathy always cleared his mind, and +ridicule was poison to him. + + "There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. +Like as not they will be wanting to take me to +Hastings because I have built a silo; and then +I may take you with me. But at present I need +you here. Only don't come to me again telling +me what people say. Let people go on talking +as they like, and we will go on living as we +think best. You have been with me now for +twelve years, and I have gone to you for advice +oftener than I have ever gone to any one. That +ought to satisfy you." + + Ivar bowed humbly. "Yes, mistress, I shall +not trouble you with their talk again. And as +for my feet, I have observed your wishes all +these years, though you have never questioned +me; washing them every night, even in winter." + + Alexandra laughed. "Oh, never mind about +your feet, Ivar. We can remember when half +our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I ex- +pect old Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes +off now sometimes, if she dared. I'm glad I'm +not Lou's mother-in-law." + + Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered +his voice almost to a whisper. "You know +what they have over at Lou's house? A great +white tub, like the stone water-troughs in the +old country, to wash themselves in. When you +sent me over with the strawberries, they were +all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. +She took me in and showed me the thing, and +she told me it was impossible to wash yourself +clean in it, because, in so much water, you could +not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up +and send her in there, she pretends, and makes a +splashing noise. Then, when they are all asleep, +she washes herself in a little wooden tub she +keeps under her bed." + + Alexandra shook with laughter. "Poor old +Mrs. Lee! They won't let her wear nightcaps, +either. Never mind; when she comes to visit +me, she can do all the old things in the old +way, and have as much beer as she wants. +We'll start an asylum for old-time people, +Ivar." + + Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully +and thrust it back into his blouse. "This is +always the way, mistress. I come to you sor- +rowing, and you send me away with a light +heart. And will you be so good as to tell the +Irishman that he is not to work the brown +gelding until the sore on its shoulder is healed?" + + "That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare +to the cart. I am going to drive up to the north +quarter to meet the man from town who is to +buy my alfalfa hay." + + + + III + + + Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar's case, +however. On Sunday her married brothers +came to dinner. She had asked them for that +day because Emil, who hated family parties, +would be absent, dancing at Amedee Chevalier's +wedding, up in the French country. The table +was set for company in the dining-room, where +highly varnished wood and colored glass and +useless pieces of china were conspicuous enough +to satisfy the standards of the new prosperity. +Alexandra had put herself into the hands of the +Hanover furniture dealer, and he had conscien- +tiously done his best to make her dining-room +look like his display window. She said frankly +that she knew nothing about such things, and +she was willing to be governed by the general +conviction that the more useless and utterly +unusable objects were, the greater their virtue +as ornament. That seemed reasonable enough. +Since she liked plain things herself, it was all +the more necessary to have jars and punch- +bowls and candlesticks in the company rooms +for people who did appreciate them. Her +guests liked to see about them these reassuring +emblems of prosperity. + + The family party was complete except for +Emil, and Oscar's wife who, in the country +phrase, "was not going anywhere just now." +Oscar sat at the foot of the table and his four +tow-headed little boys, aged from twelve to five, +were ranged at one side. Neither Oscar nor +Lou has changed much; they have simply, as +Alexandra said of them long ago, grown to be +more and more like themselves. Lou now looks +the older of the two; his face is thin and shrewd +and wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar's is +thick and dull. For all his dullness, however, +Oscar makes more money than his brother, +which adds to Lou's sharpness and uneasiness +and tempts him to make a show. The trouble +with Lou is that he is tricky, and his neighbors +have found out that, as Ivar says, he has not +a fox's face for nothing. Politics being the nat- +ural field for such talents, he neglects his farm +to attend conventions and to run for county +offices. + + Lou's wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to +look curiously like her husband. Her face has +become longer, sharper, more aggressive. She +wears her yellow hair in a high pompadour, +and is bedecked with rings and chains and +"beauty pins." Her tight, high-heeled shoes +give her an awkward walk, and she is always +more or less preoccupied with her clothes. As +she sat at the table, she kept telling her young- +est daughter to "be careful now, and not drop +anything on mother." + + The conversation at the table was all in Eng- +lish. Oscar's wife, from the malaria district of +Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a foreigner, +and his boys do not understand a word of +Swedish. Annie and Lou sometimes speak +Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as much +afraid of being "caught" at it as ever her +mother was of being caught barefoot. Oscar +still has a thick accent, but Lou speaks like +anybody from Iowa. + + "When I was in Hastings to attend the con- +vention," he was saying, "I saw the superin- +tendent of the asylum, and I was telling him +about Ivar's symptoms. He says Ivar's case +is one of the most dangerous kind, and it's +a wonder he hasn't done something violent +before this." + + Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. "Oh, +nonsense, Lou! The doctors would have us all +crazy if they could. Ivar's queer, certainly, but +he has more sense than half the hands I hire." + + Lou flew at his fried chicken. "Oh, I guess +the doctor knows his business, Alexandra. He +was very much surprised when I told him how +you'd put up with Ivar. He says he's likely to +set fire to the barn any night, or to take after +you and the girls with an axe." + + Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, +giggled and fled to the kitchen. Alexandra's +eyes twinkled. "That was too much for Signa, +Lou. We all know that Ivar's perfectly harm- +less. The girls would as soon expect me to +chase them with an axe." + + Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. "All +the same, the neighbors will be having a say +about it before long. He may burn anybody's +barn. It's only necessary for one property- +owner in the township to make complaint, and +he'll be taken up by force. You'd better send +him yourself and not have any hard feelings." + + Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to +gravy. "Well, Lou, if any of the neighbors try +that, I'll have myself appointed Ivar's guardian +and take the case to court, that's all. I am +perfectly satisfied with him." + + "Pass the preserves, Lou," said Annie in a +warning tone. She had reasons for not wishing +her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. +"But don't you sort of hate to have people see +him around here, Alexandra?" she went on +with persuasive smoothness. "He IS a disgrace- +ful object, and you're fixed up so nice now. It +sort of makes people distant with you, when +they never know when they'll hear him scratch- +ing about. My girls are afraid as death of him, +aren't you, Milly, dear?" + + Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompa- +doured, with a creamy complexion, square +white teeth, and a short upper lip. She looked +like her grandmother Bergson, and had her +comfortable and comfort-loving nature. She +grinned at her aunt, with whom she was a great +deal more at ease than she was with her mother. +Alexandra winked a reply. + + "Milly needn't be afraid of Ivar. She's an +especial favorite of his. In my opinion Ivar has +just as much right to his own way of dressing +and thinking as we have. But I'll see that he +doesn't bother other people. I'll keep him at +home, so don't trouble any more about him, +Lou. I've been wanting to ask you about your +new bathtub. How does it work?" + + Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to +recover himself. "Oh, it works something +grand! I can't keep him out of it. He washes +himself all over three times a week now, and +uses all the hot water. I think it's weakening +to stay in as long as he does. You ought to +have one, Alexandra." + + "I'm thinking of it. I might have one put in +the barn for Ivar, if it will ease people's minds. +But before I get a bathtub, I'm going to get a +piano for Milly." + + Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from +his plate. "What does Milly want of a pianny? +What's the matter with her organ? She can +make some use of that, and play in church." + + Annie looked flustered. She had begged +Alexandra not to say anything about this plan +before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous of what +his sister did for Lou's children. Alexandra did +not get on with Oscar's wife at all. "Milly can +play in church just the same, and she'll still +play on the organ. But practising on it so +much spoils her touch. Her teacher says so," +Annie brought out with spirit. + + Oscar rolled his eyes. "Well, Milly must have +got on pretty good if she's got past the organ. +I know plenty of grown folks that ain't," he +said bluntly. + + Annie threw up her chin. "She has got on +good, and she's going to play for her commence- +ment when she graduates in town next year." + + "Yes," said Alexandra firmly, "I think Milly +deserves a piano. All the girls around here have +been taking lessons for years, but Milly is the +only one of them who can ever play anything +when you ask her. I'll tell you when I first +thought I would like to give you a piano, Milly, +and that was when you learned that book of +old Swedish songs that your grandfather used +to sing. He had a sweet tenor voice, and when +he was a young man he loved to sing. I can +remember hearing him singing with the sailors +down in the shipyard, when I was no bigger +than Stella here," pointing to Annie's younger +daughter. + + Milly and Stella both looked through the +door into the sitting-room, where a crayon por- +trait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alex- +andra had had it made from a little photograph, +taken for his friends just before he left Sweden; +a slender man of thirty-five, with soft hair curl- +ing about his high forehead, a drooping mus- +tache, and wondering, sad eyes that looked +forward into the distance, as if they already +beheld the New World. + + After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the +orchard to pick cherries--they had neither of +them had the patience to grow an orchard of their +own--and Annie went down to gossip with +Alexandra's kitchen girls while they washed the +dishes. She could always find out more about +Alexandra's domestic economy from the prat- +tling maids than from Alexandra herself, and +what she discovered she used to her own advan- +tage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers' daugh- +ters no longer went out into service, so Alex- +andra got her girls from Sweden, by paying +their fare over. They stayed with her until +they married, and were replaced by sisters or +cousins from the old country. + + Alexandra took her three nieces into the +flower garden. She was fond of the little girls, +especially of Milly, who came to spend a week +with her aunt now and then, and read aloud +to her from the old books about the house, or +listened to stories about the early days on the +Divide. While they were walking among the +flower beds, a buggy drove up the hill and +stopped in front of the gate. A man got out and +stood talking to the driver. The little girls +were delighted at the advent of a stranger, some +one from very far away, they knew by his +clothes, his gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut +of his dark beard. The girls fell behind their +aunt and peeped out at him from among the +castor beans. The stranger came up to the gate +and stood holding his hat in his hand, smiling, +while Alexandra advanced slowly to meet him. +As she approached he spoke in a low, pleasant +voice. + + "Don't you know me, Alexandra? I would +have known you, anywhere." + + Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. +Suddenly she took a quick step forward. "Can +it be!" she exclaimed with feeling; "can it be +that it is Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!" +She threw out both her hands and caught his +across the gate. "Sadie, Milly, run tell your +father and Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl +Linstrum is here. Be quick! Why, Carl, how +did it happen? I can't believe this!" Alexan- +dra shook the tears from her eyes and laughed. + + The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped +his suitcase inside the fence, and opened the +gate. "Then you are glad to see me, and you +can put me up overnight? I couldn't go +through this country without stopping off to +have a look at you. How little you have +changed! Do you know, I was sure it would be +like that. You simply couldn't be different. +How fine you are!" He stepped back and +looked at her admiringly. + + Alexandra blushed and laughed again. "But +you yourself, Carl--with that beard--how +could I have known you? You went away a +little boy." She reached for his suitcase and +when he intercepted her she threw up her +hands. "You see, I give myself away. I have +only women come to visit me, and I do not +know how to behave. Where is your trunk?" + + "It's in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. +I am on my way to the coast." + + They started up the path. "A few days? +After all these years!" Alexandra shook her +finger at him. "See this, you have walked into +a trap. You do not get away so easy." She put +her hand affectionately on his shoulder. "You +owe me a visit for the sake of old times. Why +must you go to the coast at all?" + + "Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From +Seattle I go on to Alaska." + + "Alaska?" She looked at him in astonish- +ment. "Are you going to paint the Indians?" + + "Paint?" the young man frowned. "Oh! I'm +not a painter, Alexandra. I'm an engraver. I +have nothing to do with painting." + + "But on my parlor wall I have the paint- +ings--" + + He interrupted nervously. "Oh, water-color +sketches--done for amusement. I sent them to +remind you of me, not because they were good. +What a wonderful place you have made of this, +Alexandra." He turned and looked back at the +wide, map-like prospect of field and hedge and +pasture. "I would never have believed it could +be done. I'm disappointed in my own eye, in +my imagination." + + At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the +hill from the orchard. They did not quicken +their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they +did not openly look in his direction. They +advanced distrustfully, and as if they wished +the distance were longer. + + Alexandra beckoned to them. "They think +I am trying to fool them. Come, boys, it's +Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!" + + Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance +and thrust out his hand. "Glad to see you." + + Oscar followed with "How d' do." Carl could +not tell whether their offishness came from +unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and +Alexandra led the way to the porch. + + "Carl," Alexandra explained, "is on his way +to Seattle. He is going to Alaska." + + Oscar studied the visitor's yellow shoes. +"Got business there?" he asked. + + Carl laughed. "Yes, very pressing business. +I'm going there to get rich. Engraving's a very +interesting profession, but a man never makes +any money at it. So I'm going to try the gold- +fields." + + Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, +and Lou looked up with some interest. "Ever +done anything in that line before?" + + "No, but I'm going to join a friend of mine +who went out from New York and has done +well. He has offered to break me in." + + "Turrible cold winters, there, I hear," re- +marked Oscar. "I thought people went up +there in the spring." + + "They do. But my friend is going to spend +the winter in Seattle and I am to stay with him +there and learn something about prospecting +before we start north next year." + + Lou looked skeptical. "Let's see, how long +have you been away from here?" + + "Sixteen years. You ought to remember +that, Lou, for you were married just after we +went away." + + "Going to stay with us some time?" Oscar +asked. + + "A few days, if Alexandra can keep me." + + "I expect you'll be wanting to see your old +place," Lou observed more cordially. "You +won't hardly know it. But there's a few chunks +of your old sod house left. Alexandra wouldn't +never let Frank Shabata plough over it." + + Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was +announced, had been touching up her hair and +settling her lace and wishing she had worn +another dress, now emerged with her three +daughters and introduced them. She was +greatly impressed by Carl's urban appearance, +and in her excitement talked very loud and +threw her head about. "And you ain't married +yet? At your age, now! Think of that! You'll +have to wait for Milly. Yes, we've got a boy, +too. The youngest. He's at home with his +grandma. You must come over to see mother +and hear Milly play. She's the musician of the +family. She does pyrography, too. That's +burnt wood, you know. You wouldn't believe +what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes +to school in town, and she is the youngest in +her class by two years." + + Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took +her hand again. He liked her creamy skin and +happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her +mother's way of talking distressed her. "I'm +sure she's a clever little girl," he murmured, +looking at her thoughtfully. "Let me see-- +Ah, it's your mother that she looks like, Alex- +andra. Mrs. Bergson must have looked just +like this when she was a little girl. Does Milly +run about over the country as you and Alex- +andra used to, Annie?" + + Milly's mother protested. "Oh, my, no! +Things has changed since we was girls. Milly +has it very different. We are going to rent the +place and move into town as soon as the girls +are old enough to go out into company. A +good many are doing that here now. Lou is +going into business." + + Lou grinned. "That's what she says. You +better go get your things on. Ivar's hitching +up," he added, turning to Annie. + + Young farmers seldom address their wives by +name. It is always "you," or "she." + + Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat +down on the step and began to whittle. "Well, +what do folks in New York think of William +Jennings Bryan?" Lou began to bluster, as he +always did when he talked politics. "We gave +Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all right, +and we're fixing another to hand them. Silver +wasn't the only issue," he nodded mysteriously. +"There's a good many things got to be changed. +The West is going to make itself heard." + + Carl laughed. "But, surely, it did do that, +if nothing else." + + Lou's thin face reddened up to the roots of his +bristly hair. "Oh, we've only begun. We're +waking up to a sense of our responsibilities, +out here, and we ain't afraid, neither. You +fellows back there must be a tame lot. If you +had any nerve you'd get together and march +down to Wall Street and blow it up. Dyna- +mite it, I mean," with a threatening nod. + + He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely +knew how to answer him. "That would be a +waste of powder. The same business would go on +in another street. The street doesn't matter. +But what have you fellows out here got to kick +about? You have the only safe place there is. +Morgan himself couldn't touch you. One only +has to drive through this country to see that +you're all as rich as barons." + + "We have a good deal more to say than we +had when we were poor," said Lou threateningly. +"We're getting on to a whole lot of things." + + As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the +gate, Annie came out in a hat that looked like +the model of a battleship. Carl rose and took +her down to the carriage, while Lou lingered for +a word with his sister. + + "What do you suppose he's come for?" he +asked, jerking his head toward the gate. + + "Why, to pay us a visit. I've been begging +him to for years." + + Oscar looked at Alexandra. "He didn't let +you know he was coming?" + + "No. Why should he? I told him to come at +any time." + + Lou shrugged his shoulders. "He doesn't +seem to have done much for himself. Wander- +ing around this way!" + + Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of +a cavern. "He never was much account." + + Alexandra left them and hurried down to the +gate where Annie was rattling on to Carl about +her new dining-room furniture. "You must +bring Mr. Linstrum over real soon, only be sure +to telephone me first," she called back, as Carl +helped her into the carriage. Old Ivar, his white +head bare, stood holding the horses. Lou came +down the path and climbed into the front seat, +took up the reins, and drove off without saying +anything further to any one. Oscar picked up +his youngest boy and trudged off down the +road, the other three trotting after him. Carl, +holding the gate open for Alexandra, began to +laugh. "Up and coming on the Divide, eh, +Alexandra?" he cried gayly. + + + + IV + + + Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less +than one might have expected. He had not +become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There +was still something homely and wayward and +definitely personal about him. Even his clothes, +his Norfolk coat and his very high collars, were +a little unconventional. He seemed to shrink +into himself as he used to do; to hold him- +self away from things, as if he were afraid +of being hurt. In short, he was more self-con- +scious than a man of thirty-five is expected to +be. He looked older than his years and not +very strong. His black hair, which still hung +in a triangle over his pale forehead, was thin at +the crown, and there were fine, relentless lines +about his eyes. His back, with its high, sharp +shoulders, looked like the back of an over- +worked German professor off on his holiday. +His face was intelligent, sensitive, unhappy. + + That evening after supper, Carl and Alex- +andra were sitting by the clump of castor beans +in the middle of the flower garden. The gravel +paths glittered in the moonlight, and below +them the fields lay white and still. + + "Do you know, Alexandra," he was saying, +"I've been thinking how strangely things work +out. I've been away engraving other men's +pictures, and you've stayed at home and made +your own." He pointed with his cigar toward +the sleeping landscape. "How in the world +have you done it? How have your neighbors +done it?" + + "We hadn't any of us much to do with it, +Carl. The land did it. It had its little joke. It +pretended to be poor because nobody knew how +to work it right; and then, all at once, it worked +itself. It woke up out of its sleep and stretched +itself, and it was so big, so rich, that we sud- +denly found we were rich, just from sitting still. +As for me, you remember when I began to buy +land. For years after that I was always squeez- +ing and borrowing until I was ashamed to show +my face in the banks. And then, all at once, +men began to come to me offering to lend me +money--and I didn't need it! Then I went +ahead and built this house. I really built it for +Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so +different from the rest of us!" + + "How different?" + + "Oh, you'll see! I'm sure it was to have sons +like Emil, and to give them a chance, that father +left the old country. It's curious, too; on the +outside Emil is just like an American boy,--he +graduated from the State University in June, +you know,--but underneath he is more Swed- +ish than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father +that he frightens me; he is so violent in his feel- +ings like that." + + "Is he going to farm here with you?" + + "He shall do whatever he wants to," Alex- +andra declared warmly. "He is going to have +a chance, a whole chance; that's what I've +worked for. Sometimes he talks about studying +law, and sometimes, just lately, he's been talk- +ing about going out into the sand hills and tak- +ing up more land. He has his sad times, like +father. But I hope he won't do that. We have +land enough, at last!" Alexandra laughed. + + "How about Lou and Oscar? They've done +well, haven't they?" + + "Yes, very well; but they are different, and +now that they have farms of their own I do not +see so much of them. We divided the land +equally when Lou married. They have their +own way of doing things, and they do not alto- +gether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps they +think me too independent. But I have had to +think for myself a good many years and am not +likely to change. On the whole, though, we +take as much comfort in each other as most +brothers and sisters do. And I am very fond of +Lou's oldest daughter." + + "I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, +and they probably feel the same about me. I +even, if you can keep a secret,"--Carl leaned +forward and touched her arm, smiling,--"I +even think I liked the old country better. This +is all very splendid in its way, but there was +something about this country when it was a +wild old beast that has haunted me all these +years. Now, when I come back to all this milk +and honey, I feel like the old German song, 'Wo +bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest Land?'-- +Do you ever feel like that, I wonder?" + + "Yes, sometimes, when I think about father +and mother and those who are gone; so many +of our old neighbors." Alexandra paused and +looked up thoughtfully at the stars. "We can +remember the graveyard when it was wild +prairie, Carl, and now--" + + "And now the old story has begun to write +itself over there," said Carl softly. "Isn't it +queer: there are only two or three human +stories, and they go on repeating themselves as +fiercely as if they had never happened before; +like the larks in this country, that have been +singing the same five notes over for thousands +of years." + + "Oh, yes! The young people, they live so +hard. And yet I sometimes envy them. There +is my little neighbor, now; the people who +bought your old place. I wouldn't have sold it +to any one else, but I was always fond of that +girl. You must remember her, little Marie +Tovesky, from Omaha, who used to visit here? +When she was eighteen she ran away from the +convent school and got married, crazy child! +She came out here a bride, with her father and +husband. He had nothing, and the old man +was willing to buy them a place and set them +up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad +to have her so near me. I've never been sorry, +either. I even try to get along with Frank on +her account." + + "Is Frank her husband?" + + "Yes. He's one of these wild fellows. Most +Bohemians are good-natured, but Frank thinks +we don't appreciate him here, I guess. He's jeal- +ous about everything, his farm and his horses +and his pretty wife. Everybody likes her, just +the same as when she was little. Sometimes I +go up to the Catholic church with Emil, and +it's funny to see Marie standing there laughing +and shaking hands with people, looking so ex- +cited and gay, with Frank sulking behind her +as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank's not +a bad neighbor, but to get on with him you've +got to make a fuss over him and act as if you +thought he was a very important person all the +time, and different from other people. I find it +hard to keep that up from one year's end to +another." + + "I shouldn't think you'd be very successful +at that kind of thing, Alexandra." Carl seemed +to find the idea amusing. + + "Well," said Alexandra firmly, "I do the +best I can, on Marie's account. She has it hard +enough, anyway. She's too young and pretty +for this sort of life. We're all ever so much older +and slower. But she's the kind that won't be +downed easily. She'll work all day and go to +a Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and +drive the hay wagon for a cross man next morn- +ing. I could stay by a job, but I never had the go +in me that she has, when I was going my best. +I'll have to take you over to see her to-morrow." + + Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly +among the castor beans and sighed. "Yes, I +suppose I must see the old place. I'm cow- +ardly about things that remind me of myself. +It took courage to come at all, Alexandra. I +wouldn't have, if I hadn't wanted to see you +very, very much." + + Alexandra looked at him with her calm, +deliberate eyes. "Why do you dread things +like that, Carl?" she asked earnestly. "Why +are you dissatisfied with yourself?" + + Her visitor winced. "How direct you are, +Alexandra! Just like you used to be. Do I give +myself away so quickly? Well, you see, for one +thing, there's nothing to look forward to in my +profession. Wood-engraving is the only thing +I care about, and that had gone out before I +began. Everything's cheap metal work now- +adays, touching up miserable photographs, +forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good +ones. I'm absolutely sick of it all." Carl +frowned. "Alexandra, all the way out from +New York I've been planning how I could de- +ceive you and make you think me a very envi- +able fellow, and here I am telling you the +truth the first night. I waste a lot of time pre- +tending to people, and the joke of it is, I don't +think I ever deceive any one. There are too +many of my kind; people know us on sight." + + Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair +back from her brow with a puzzled, thoughtful +gesture. "You see," he went on calmly, "mea- +sured by your standards here, I'm a failure. +I couldn't buy even one of your cornfields. +I've enjoyed a great many things, but I've +got nothing to show for it all." + + "But you show for it yourself, Carl. I'd +rather have had your freedom than my land." + + Carl shook his head mournfully. "Freedom +so often means that one isn't needed anywhere. +Here you are an individual, you have a back- +ground of your own, you would be missed. But +off there in the cities there are thousands of +rolling stones like me. We are all alike; we +have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing. +When one of us dies, they scarcely know where +to bury him. Our landlady and the delicatessen +man are our mourners, and we leave nothing +behind us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an +easel, or a typewriter, or whatever tool we got +our living by. All we have ever managed to +do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent that +one has to pay for a few square feet of space +near the heart of things. We have no house, +no place, no people of our own. We live in +the streets, in the parks, in the theatres. We sit +in restaurants and concert halls and look about +at the hundreds of our own kind and shudder." + + Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the +silver spot the moon made on the surface of the +pond down in the pasture. He knew that she +understood what he meant. At last she said +slowly, "And yet I would rather have Emil +grow up like that than like his two brothers. +We pay a high rent, too, though we pay differ- +ently. We grow hard and heavy here. We +don't move lightly and easily as you do, and +our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider +than my cornfields, if there were not something +beside this, I wouldn't feel that it was much +worth while to work. No, I would rather have +Emil like you than like them. I felt that as soon +as you came." + + "I wonder why you feel like that?" Carl +mused. + + "I don't know. Perhaps I am like Carrie +Jensen, the sister of one of my hired men. She +had never been out of the cornfields, and a few +years ago she got despondent and said life was +just the same thing over and over, and she +didn't see the use of it. After she had tried +to kill herself once or twice, her folks got wor- +ried and sent her over to Iowa to visit some +relations. Ever since she's come back she's +been perfectly cheerful, and she says she's con- +tented to live and work in a world that's so big +and interesting. She said that anything as big +as the bridges over the Platte and the Missouri +reconciled her. And it's what goes on in the +world that reconciles me." + + + + V + + + Alexandra did not find time to go to her +neighbor's the next day, nor the next. It was a +busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing +going on, and even Emil was in the field with a +team and cultivator. Carl went about over the +farms with Alexandra in the morning, and in +the afternoon and evening they found a great +deal to talk about. Emil, for all his track prac- +tice, did not stand up under farmwork very +well, and by night he was too tired to talk or +even to practise on his cornet. + + On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it +was light, and stole downstairs and out of the +kitchen door just as old Ivar was making his +morning ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded +to him and hurried up the draw, past the gar- +den, and into the pasture where the milking +cows used to be kept. + + The dawn in the east looked like the light +from some great fire that was burning under +the edge of the world. The color was reflected +in the globules of dew that sheathed the short +gray pasture grass. Carl walked rapidly until +he came to the crest of the second hill, where +the Bergson pasture joined the one that had +belonged to his father. There he sat down and +waited for the sun to rise. It was just there +that he and Alexandra used to do their milking +together, he on his side of the fence, she on hers. +He could remember exactly how she looked +when she came over the close-cropped grass, +her skirts pinned up, her head bare, a bright +tin pail in either hand, and the milky light of the +early morning all about her. Even as a boy he +used to feel, when he saw her coming with her +free step, her upright head and calm shoulders, +that she looked as if she had walked straight +out of the morning itself. Since then, when he +had happened to see the sun come up in the +country or on the water, he had often remem- +bered the young Swedish girl and her milking +pails. + + Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above +the prairie, and in the grass about him all the +small creatures of day began to tune their tiny +instruments. Birds and insects without num- +ber began to chirp, to twitter, to snap and +whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill +noises. The pasture was flooded with light; +every clump of ironweed and snow-on-the- +mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden +light seemed to be rippling through the curly +grass like the tide racing in. + + He crossed the fence into the pasture that +was now the Shabatas' and continued his walk +toward the pond. He had not gone far, how- +ever, when he discovered that he was not the +only person abroad. In the draw below, his gun +in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, +with a young woman beside him. They were +moving softly, keeping close together, and +Carl knew that they expected to find ducks on +the pond. At the moment when they came in +sight of the bright spot of water, he heard a +whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into the +air. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and +five of the birds fell to the ground. Emil and his +companion laughed delightedly, and Emil ran +to pick them up. When he came back, dangling +the ducks by their feet, Marie held her apron +and he dropped them into it. As she stood +looking down at them, her face changed. She +took up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of +feathers with the blood dripping slowly from its +mouth, and looked at the live color that still +burned on its plumage. + + As she let it fall, she cried in distress, "Oh, +Emil, why did you?" + + "I like that!" the boy exclaimed indignantly. +"Why, Marie, you asked me to come yourself." + + ":Yes, yes, I know," she said tearfully, "but I +didn't think. I hate to see them when they are +first shot. They were having such a good time, +and we've spoiled it all for them." + + Emil gave a rather sore laugh. "I should say +we had! I'm not going hunting with you any +more. You're as bad as Ivar. Here, let me +take them." He snatched the ducks out of her +apron. + + "Don't be cross, Emil. Only--Ivar's right +about wild things. They're too happy to kill. +You can tell just how they felt when they flew +up. They were scared, but they didn't really +think anything could hurt them. No, we won't +do that any more." + + "All right," Emil assented. "I'm sorry I +made you feel bad." As he looked down into +her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp +young bitterness in his own. + + Carl watched them as they moved slowly +down the draw. They had not seen him at all. +He had not overheard much of their dialogue, +but he felt the import of it. It made him, some- +how, unreasonably mournful to find two young +things abroad in the pasture in the early morn- +ing. He decided that he needed his breakfast. + + + + VI + + + At dinner that day Alexandra said she +thought they must really manage to go over to +the Shabatas' that afternoon. "It's not often I +let three days go by without seeing Marie. She +will think I have forsaken her, now that my old +friend has come back." + + After the men had gone back to work, Alex- +andra put on a white dress and her sun-hat, and +she and Carl set forth across the fields. "You +see we have kept up the old path, Carl. It has +been so nice for me to feel that there was a +friend at the other end of it again." + + Carl smiled a little ruefully. "All the same, I +hope it hasn't been QUITE the same." + + Alexandra looked at him with surprise. +"Why, no, of course not. Not the same. She +could not very well take your place, if that's +what you mean. I'm friendly with all my +neighbors, I hope. But Marie is really a com- +panion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. +You wouldn't want me to be more lonely than +I have been, would you?" + + Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular +lock of hair with the edge of his hat. "Of course +I don't. I ought to be thankful that this path +hasn't been worn by--well, by friends with +more pressing errands than your little Bohe- +mian is likely to have." He paused to give +Alexandra his hand as she stepped over the stile. +"Are you the least bit disappointed in our com- +ing together again?" he asked abruptly. "Is it +the way you hoped it would be?" + + Alexandra smiled at this. "Only better. +When I've thought about your coming, I've +sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have +lived where things move so fast, and every- +thing is slow here; the people slowest of all. Our +lives are like the years, all made up of weather +and crops and cows. How you hated cows!" +She shook her head and laughed to herself. + + "I didn't when we milked together. I +walked up to the pasture corners this morning. +I wonder whether I shall ever be able to tell you +all that I was thinking about up there. It's a +strange thing, Alexandra; I find it easy to be +frank with you about everything under the sun +except--yourself!" + + "You are afraid of hurting my feelings, per- +haps." Alexandra looked at him thoughtfully. + + "No, I'm afraid of giving you a shock. +You've seen yourself for so long in the dull +minds of the people about you, that if I were to +tell you how you seem to me, it would startle +you. But you must see that you astonish me. +You must feel when people admire you." + + Alexandra blushed and laughed with some +confusion. "I felt that you were pleased with +me, if you mean that." + + "And you've felt when other people were +pleased with you?" he insisted. + + "Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the +banks and the county offices, seem glad to see +me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant to +do business with people who are clean and +healthy-looking," she admitted blandly. + + Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the +Shabatas' gate for her. "Oh, do you?" he +asked dryly. + + There was no sign of life about the Shabatas' +house except a big yellow cat, sunning itself on +the kitchen doorstep. + + Alexandra took the path that led to the +orchard. "She often sits there and sews. I +didn't telephone her we were coming, because I +didn't her to go to work and bake cake +and freeze ice-cream. She'll always make a +party if you give her the least excuse. Do you +recognize the apple trees, Carl?" + + Linstrum looked about him. "I wish I had a +dollar for every bucket of water I've carried for +those trees. Poor father, he was an easy man, +but he was perfectly merciless when it came to +watering the orchard." + + "That's one thing I like about Germans; +they make an orchard grow if they can't make +anything else. I'm so glad these trees belong to +some one who takes comfort in them. When I +rented this place, the tenants never kept the +orchard up, and Emil and I used to come over +and take care of it ourselves. It needs mowing +now. There she is, down in the corner. Ma- +ria-a-a!" she called. + + A recumbent figure started up from the grass +and came running toward them through the +flickering screen of light and shade. + + "Look at her! Isn't she like a little brown +rabbit?" Alexandra laughed. + + Maria ran up panting and threw her arms +about Alexandra. "Oh, I had begun to think +you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you +were so busy. Yes, Emil told me about Mr. +Linstrum being here. Won't you come up to +the house?" + + "Why not sit down there in your corner? +Carl wants to see the orchard. He kept all +these trees alive for years, watering them with +his own back." + + Marie turned to Carl. "Then I'm thankful +to you, Mr. Linstrum. We'd never have bought +the place if it hadn't been for this orchard, and +then I wouldn't have had Alexandra, either." +She gave Alexandra's arm a little squeeze as +she walked beside her. "How nice your dress +smells, Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in +your chest, like I told you." + + She led them to the northwest corner of the +orchard, sheltered on one side by a thick mul- +berry hedge and bordered on the other by a +wheatfield, just beginning to yellow. In this +corner the ground dipped a little, and the blue- +grass, which the weeds had driven out in the +upper part of the orchard, grew thick and luxu- +riant. Wild roses were flaming in the tufts of +bunchgrass along the fence. Under a white +mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. +Beside it lay a book and a workbasket. + + "You must have the seat, Alexandra. The +grass would stain your dress," the hostess in- +sisted. She dropped down on the ground at +Alexandra's side and tucked her feet under her. +Carl sat at a little distance from the two wo- +men, his back to the wheatfield, and watched +them. Alexandra took off her shade-hat and +threw it on the ground. Marie picked it up and +played with the white ribbons, twisting them +about her brown fingers as she talked. They +made a pretty picture in the strong sunlight, +the leafy pattern surrounding them like a net; +the Swedish woman so white and gold, kindly +and amused, but armored in calm, and the alert +brown one, her full lips parted, points of yel- +low light dancing in her eyes as she laughed +and chattered. Carl had never forgotten little +Marie Tovesky's eyes, and he was glad to have +an opportunity to study them. The brown +iris, he found, was curiously slashed with yel- +low, the color of sunflower honey, or of old +amber. In each eye one of these streaks must +have been larger than the others, for the effect +was that of two dancing points of light, two +little yellow bubbles, such as rise in a glass of +champagne. Sometimes they seemed like the +sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily ex- +cited, to kindle with a fierce little flame if one +but breathed upon her. "What a waste," Carl +reflected. "She ought to be doing all that for +a sweetheart. How awkwardly things come +about!" + + It was not very long before Marie sprang up +out of the grass again. "Wait a moment. I +want to show you something." She ran away +and disappeared behind the low-growing apple +trees. + + "What a charming creature," Carl mur- +mured. "I don't wonder that her husband is +jealous. But can't she walk? does she always +run?" + + Alexandra nodded. "Always. I don't see +many people, but I don't believe there are many +like her, anywhere." + + Marie came back with a branch she had +broken from an apricot tree, laden with pale- +yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it be- +side Carl. "Did you plant those, too? They are +such beautiful little trees." + + Carl fingered the blue-green leaves, porous +like blotting-paper and shaped like birch +leaves, hung on waxen red stems. "Yes, I +think I did. Are these the circus trees, Alex- +andra?" + + "Shall I tell her about them?" Alexandra +asked. "Sit down like a good girl, Marie, and +don't ruin my poor hat, and I'll tell you a story. +A long time ago, when Carl and I were, say, +sixteen and twelve, a circus came to Hanover +and we went to town in our wagon, with Lou +and Oscar, to see the parade. We hadn't +money enough to go to the circus. We followed +the parade out to the circus grounds and hung +around until the show began and the crowd +went inside the tent. Then Lou was afraid we +looked foolish standing outside in the pasture, +so we went back to Hanover feeling very sad. +There was a man in the streets selling apricots, +and we had never seen any before. He had +driven down from somewhere up in the French +country, and he was selling them twenty-five +cents a peck. We had a little money our fathers +had given us for candy, and I bought two pecks +and Carl bought one. They cheered us a good +deal, and we saved all the seeds and planted +them. Up to the time Carl went away, they +hadn't borne at all." + + "And now he's come back to eat them," +cried Marie, nodding at Carl. "That IS a good +story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Lin- +strum. I used to see you in Hanover some- +times, when Uncle Joe took me to town. I re- +member you because you were always buying +pencils and tubes of paint at the drug store. +Once, when my uncle left me at the store, you +drew a lot of little birds and flowers for me on a +piece of wrapping-paper. I kept them for a long +while. I thought you were very romantic be- +cause you could draw and had such black eyes." + + Carl smiled. "Yes, I remember that time. +Your uncle bought you some kind of a mechani- +cal toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman +and smoking a hookah, wasn't it? And she +turned her head backwards and forwards." + + "Oh, yes! Wasn't she splendid! I knew well +enough I ought not to tell Uncle Joe I wanted +it, for he had just come back from the saloon +and was feeling good. You remember how he +laughed? She tickled him, too. But when we +got home, my aunt scolded him for buying toys +when she needed so many things. We wound +our lady up every night, and when she began to +move her head my aunt used to laugh as hard as +any of us. It was a music-box, you know, and +the Turkish lady played a tune while she +smoked. That was how she made you feel so +jolly. As I remember her, she was lovely, and +had a gold crescent on her turban." + + Half an hour later, as they were leaving the +house, Carl and Alexandra were met in the path +by a strapping fellow in overalls and a blue +shirt. He was breathing hard, as if he had been +running, and was muttering to himself. + + Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the +arm, gave him a little push toward her guests. +"Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum." + + Frank took off his broad straw hat and nod- +ded to Alexandra. When he spoke to Carl, he +showed a fine set of white teeth. He was +burned a dull red down to his neckband, and +there was a heavy three-days' stubble on his +face. Even in his agitation he was handsome, +but he looked a rash and violent man. + + Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once +to his wife and began, in an outraged tone, "I +have to leave my team to drive the old woman +Hiller's hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat +old woman to de court if she ain't careful, I tell +you!" + + His wife spoke soothingly. "But, Frank, she +has only her lame boy to help her. She does the +best she can." + + Alexandra looked at the excited man and +offered a suggestion. "Why don't you go over +there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? +You'd save time for yourself in the end." + + Frank's neck stiffened. "Not-a-much, I +won't. I keep my hogs home. Other peoples +can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend +shoes, he can mend fence." + + "Maybe," said Alexandra placidly; "but +I've found it sometimes pays to mend other +people's fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to +see me soon." + + Alexandra walked firmly down the path and +Carl followed her. + + Frank went into the house and threw himself +on the sofa, his face to the wall, his clenched fist +on his hip. Marie, having seen her guests off, +came in and put her hand coaxingly on his +shoulder. + + "Poor Frank! You've run until you've made +your head ache, now haven't you? Let me +make you some coffee." + + "What else am I to do?" he cried hotly in +Bohemian. "Am I to let any old woman's hogs +root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself +to death for?" + + "Don't worry about it, Frank. I'll speak to +Mrs. Hiller again. But, really, she almost cried +last time they got out, she was so sorry." + + Frank bounced over on his other side. +"That's it; you always side with them against +me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free +to borrow the mower and break it, or turn their +hogs in on me. They know you won't care!" + + Marie hurried away to make his coffee. +When she came back, he was fast asleep. She +sat down and looked at him for a long while, +very thoughtfully. When the kitchen clock +struck six she went out to get supper, closing +the door gently behind her. She was always +sorry for Frank when he worked himself into +one of these rages, and she was sorry to have +him rough and quarrelsome with his neighbors. +She was perfectly aware that the neighbors had +a good deal to put up with, and that they bore +with Frank for her sake. + + + + VII + + + Marie's father, Albert Tovesky, was one +of the more intelligent Bohemians who came +West in the early seventies. He settled in +Omaha and became a leader and adviser among +his people there. Marie was his youngest child, +by a second wife, and was the apple of his +eye. She was barely sixteen, and was in the +graduating class of the Omaha High School, +when Frank Shabata arrived from the old coun- +try and set all the Bohemian girls in a flutter. +He was easily the buck of the beer-gardens, +and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with his +silk hat and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, +wearing gloves and carrying a little wisp of a +yellow cane. He was tall and fair, with splendid +teeth and close-cropped yellow curls, and he +wore a slightly disdainful expression, proper for +a young man with high connections, whose +mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. There +was often an interesting discontent in his blue +eyes, and every Bohemian girl he met imagined +herself the cause of that unsatisfied expression. +He had a way of drawing out his cambric hand- +kerchief slowly, by one corner, from his breast- +pocket, that was melancholy and romantic in +the extreme. He took a little flight with each of +the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it was +when he was with little Marie Tovesky that he +drew his handkerchief out most slowly, and, +after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match +most despairingly. Any one could see, with +half an eye, that his proud heart was bleeding +for somebody. + + One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie's +graduation, she met Frank at a Bohemian pic- +nic down the river and went rowing with him all +the afternoon. When she got home that even- +ing she went straight to her father's room and +told him that she was engaged to Shabata. Old +Tovesky was having a comfortable pipe before +he went to bed. When he heard his daughter's +announcement, he first prudently corked his +beer bottle and then leaped to his feet and had +a turn of temper. He characterized Frank +Shabata by a Bohemian expression which is the +equivalent of stuffed shirt. + + "Why don't he go to work like the rest of us +did? His farm in the Elbe valley, indeed! +Ain't he got plenty brothers and sisters? It's +his mother's farm, and why don't he stay +at home and help her? Haven't I seen his +mother out in the morning at five o'clock with +her ladle and her big bucket on wheels, putting +liquid manure on the cabbages? Don't I know +the look of old Eva Shabata's hands? Like an +old horse's hoofs they are--and this fellow +wearing gloves and rings! Engaged, indeed! +You aren't fit to be out of school, and that's +what's the matter with you. I will send you +off to the Sisters of the Sacred Heart in St. +Louis, and they will teach you some sense, +~I~ guess!" + + Accordingly, the very next week, Albert +Tovesky took his daughter, pale and tearful, +down the river to the convent. But the way to +make Frank want anything was to tell him he +couldn't have it. He managed to have an in- +terview with Marie before she went away, and +whereas he had been only half in love with her +before, he now persuaded himself that he would +not stop at anything. Marie took with her to +the convent, under the canvas lining of her +trunk, the results of a laborious and satisfying +morning on Frank's part; no less than a dozen +photographs of himself, taken in a dozen differ- +ent love-lorn attitudes. There was a little round +photograph for her watch-case, photographs +for her wall and dresser, and even long nar- +row ones to be used as bookmarks. More than +once the handsome gentleman was torn to +pieces before the French class by an indignant +nun. + + Marie pined in the convent for a year, until her +eighteenth birthday was passed. Then she met +Frank Shabata in the Union Station in St. Louis +and ran away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his +daughter because there was nothing else to do, +and bought her a farm in the country that she +had loved so well as a child. Since then her +story had been a part of the history of the +Divide. She and Frank had been living there +for five years when Carl Linstrum came back to +pay his long deferred visit to Alexandra. Frank +had, on the whole, done better than one might +have expected. He had flung himself at the +soil with savage energy. Once a year he went +to Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He +stayed away for a week or two, and then +came home and worked like a demon. He did +work; if he felt sorry for himself, that was his +own affair. + + + + VIII + + + On the evening of the day of Alexandra's call +at the Shabatas', a heavy rain set in. Frank sat +up until a late hour reading the Sunday newspa- +pers. One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, +and Frank took it as a personal affront. In +printing the story of the young man's mar- +ital troubles, the knowing editor gave a suffi- +ciently colored account of his career, stating +the amount of his income and the manner in +which he was supposed to spend it. Frank read +English slowly, and the more he read about this +divorce case, the angrier he grew. At last he +threw down the page with a snort. He turned +to his farm-hand who was reading the other half +of the paper. + + "By God! if I have that young feller in de +hayfield once, I show him someting. Listen +here what he do wit his money." And Frank +began the catalogue of the young man's reputed +extravagances. + + Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the +Goulds, for whom she had nothing but good +will, should make her so much trouble. She +hated to see the Sunday newspapers come into +the house. Frank was always reading about the +doings of rich people and feeling outraged. He +had an inexhaustible stock of stories about their +crimes and follies, how they bribed the courts +and shot down their butlers with impunity +whenever they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson +had very similar ideas, and they were two of the +political agitators of the county. + + The next morning broke clear and brilliant, +but Frank said the ground was too wet to +plough, so he took the cart and drove over to +Sainte-Agnes to spend the day at Moses Mar- +cel's saloon. After he was gone, Marie went out +to the back porch to begin her butter-making. A +brisk wind had come up and was driving puffy +white clouds across the sky. The orchard was +sparkling and rippling in the sun. Marie stood +looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid +of the churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the +air, the merry sound of the whetstone on the +scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran +into the house, put on a short skirt and a pair of +her husband's boots, caught up a tin pail and +started for the orchard. Emil had already be- +gun work and was mowing vigorously. When he +saw her coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. +His yellow canvas leggings and khaki trousers +were splashed to the knees. + + "Don't let me disturb you, Emil. I'm going +to pick cherries. Isn't everything beautiful +after the rain? Oh, but I'm glad to get this +place mowed! When I heard it raining in the +night, I thought maybe you would come and +do it for me to-day. The wind wakened me. +Didn't it blow dreadfully? Just smell the wild +roses! They are always so spicy after a rain. +We never had so many of them in here before. +I suppose it's the wet season. Will you have to +cut them, too?" + + "If I cut the grass, I will," Emil said teas- +ingly. "What's the matter with you? What +makes you so flighty?" + + "Am I flighty? I suppose that's the wet sea- +son, too, then. It's exciting to see everything +growing so fast,--and to get the grass cut! +Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut +them. Oh, I don't mean all of them, I mean +that low place down by my tree, where there +are so many. Aren't you splashed! Look at +the spider-webs all over the grass. Good-bye. +I'll call you if I see a snake." + + She tripped away and Emil stood looking +after her. In a few moments he heard the cher- +ries dropping smartly into the pail, and he +began to swing his scythe with that long, even +stroke that few American boys ever learn. +Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, +stripping one glittering branch after another, +shivering when she caught a shower of rain- +drops on her neck and hair. And Emil mowed +his way slowly down toward the cherry trees. + + That summer the rains had been so many +and opportune that it was almost more than +Shabata and his man could do to keep up with +the corn; the orchard was a neglected wilder- +ness. All sorts of weeds and herbs and flowers +had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, +pale green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, +plantations of wild cotton, tangles of foxtail +and wild wheat. South of the apricot trees, cor- +nering on the wheatfield, was Frank's alfalfa, +where myriads of white and yellow butterflies +were always fluttering above the purple blos- +soms. When Emil reached the lower corner by +the hedge, Marie was sitting under her white +mulberry tree, the pailful of cherries beside her, +looking off at the gentle, tireless swelling of the +wheat. + + "Emil," she said suddenly--he was mowing +quietly about under the tree so as not to disturb +her--"what religion did the Swedes have away +back, before they were Christians?" + + Emil paused and straightened his back. "I +don't know. About like the Germans', wasn't it?" + + Marie went on as if she had not heard him. +"The Bohemians, you know, were tree wor- +shipers before the missionaries came. Father +says the people in the mountains still do queer +things, sometimes,--they believe that trees +bring good or bad luck." + + Emil looked superior. "Do they? Well, +which are the lucky trees? I'd like to know." + + "I don't know all of them, but I know +lindens are. The old people in the mountains +plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do +away with the spells that come from the old +trees they say have lasted from heathen times. +I'm a good Catholic, but I think I could get +along with caring for trees, if I hadn't anything +else." + + "That's a poor saying," said Emil, stooping +over to wipe his hands in the wet grass. + + "Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that +way. I like trees because they seem more +resigned to the way they have to live than +other things do. I feel as if this tree knows +everything I ever think of when I sit here. +When I come back to it, I never have to re- +mind it of anything; I begin just where I left +off." + + Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached +up among the branches and began to pick the +sweet, insipid fruit,--long ivory-colored ber- +ries, tipped with faint pink, like white coral, +that fall to the ground unheeded all summer +through. He dropped a handful into her lap. + + "Do you like Mr. Linstrum?" Marie asked +suddenly. + + "Yes. Don't you?" + + "Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of +staid and school-teachery. But, of course, he is +older than Frank, even. I'm sure I don't want +to live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you +think Alexandra likes him very much?" + + "I suppose so. They were old friends." + + "Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!" Marie +tossed her head impatiently. "Does she really +care about him? When she used to tell me +about him, I always wondered whether she +wasn't a little in love with him." + + "Who, Alexandra?" Emil laughed and +thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. +"Alexandra's never been in love, you crazy!" +He laughed again. "She wouldn't know how +to go about it. The idea!" + + Marie shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you +don't know Alexandra as well as you think +you do! If you had any eyes, you would see +that she is very fond of him. It would serve +you all right if she walked off with Carl. I like +him because he appreciates her more than you +do." + + Emil frowned. "What are you talking about, +Marie? Alexandra's all right. She and I have +always been good friends. What more do you +want? I like to talk to Carl about New York +and what a fellow can do there." + + "Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of +going off there?" + + "Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn't +I?" The young man took up his scythe and +leaned on it. "Would you rather I went off in +the sand hills and lived like Ivar?" + + Marie's face fell under his brooding gaze. She +looked down at his wet leggings. "I'm sure +Alexandra hopes you will stay on here," she +murmured. + + "Then Alexandra will be disappointed," the +young man said roughly. "What do I want to +hang around here for? Alexandra can run the +farm all right, without me. I don't want to +stand around and look on. I want to be doing +something on my own account." + + "That's so," Marie sighed. "There are so +many, many things you can do. Almost any- +thing you choose." + + "And there are so many, many things I can't +do." Emil echoed her tone sarcastically. "Some- +times I don't want to do anything at all, and +sometimes I want to pull the four corners of +the Divide together,"--he threw out his arm +and brought it back with a jerk,--"so, like a +table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses +going up and down, up and down." + + Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her +face clouded. "I wish you weren't so restless, +and didn't get so worked up over things," she +said sadly. + + "Thank you," he returned shortly. + + She sighed despondently. "Everything I say +makes you cross, don't it? And you never used +to be cross to me." + + Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning +down at her bent head. He stood in an attitude +of self-defense, his feet well apart, his hands +clenched and drawn up at his sides, so that the +cords stood out on his bare arms. "I can't play +with you like a little boy any more," he said +slowly. "That's what you miss, Marie. You'll +have to get some other little boy to play with." +He stopped and took a deep breath. Then he +went on in a low tone, so intense that it was +almost threatening: "Sometimes you seem to +understand perfectly, and then sometimes you +pretend you don't. You don't help things any +by pretending. It's then that I want to pull +the corners of the Divide together. If you +WON'T understand, you know, I could make you!" + + Marie clasped her hands and started up from +her seat. She had grown very pale and her eyes +were shining with excitement and distress. +"But, Emil, if I understand, then all our good +times are over, we can never do nice things to- +gether any more. We shall have to behave like +Mr. Linstrum. And, anyhow, there's nothing +to understand!" She struck the ground with +her little foot fiercely. "That won't last. It +will go away, and things will be just as they +used to. I wish you were a Catholic. The +Church helps people, indeed it does. I pray for +you, but that's not the same as if you prayed +yourself." + + She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked +entreatingly into his face. Emil stood defiant, +gazing down at her. + + "I can't pray to have the things I want," he +said slowly, "and I won't pray not to have +them, not if I'm damned for it." + + Marie turned away, wringing her hands. +"Oh, Emil, you won't try! Then all our good +times are over." + + "Yes; over. I never expect to have any +more." + + Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe +and began to mow. Marie took up her cherries +and went slowly toward the house, crying +bitterly. + + + + IX + + + On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl +Linstrum's arrival, he rode with Emil up into +the French country to attend a Catholic fair. +He sat for most of the afternoon in the base- +ment of the church, where the fair was held, +talking to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the +gravel terrace, thrown up on the hillside in +front of the basement doors, where the French +boys were jumping and wrestling and throwing +the discus. Some of the boys were in their +white baseball suits; they had just come up +from a Sunday practice game down in the ball- +grounds. Amedee, the newly married, Emil's +best friend, was their pitcher, renowned among +the country towns for his dash and skill. +Amedee was a little fellow, a year younger than +Emil and much more boyish in appearance; +very lithe and active and neatly made, with a +clear brown and white skin, and flashing white +teeth. The Sainte-Agnes boys were to play the +Hastings nine in a fortnight, and Amedee's +lightning balls were the hope of his team. The +little Frenchman seemed to get every ounce +there was in him behind the ball as it left his +hand. + + "You'd have made the battery at the Univer- +sity for sure, 'Medee," Emil said as they were +walking from the ball-grounds back to the +church on the hill. "You're pitching better +than you did in the spring." + + Amedee grinned. "Sure! A married man +don't lose his head no more." He slapped Emil +on the back as he caught step with him. "Oh, +Emil, you wanna get married right off quick! +It's the greatest thing ever!" + + Emil laughed. "How am I going to get mar- +ried without any girl?" + + Amedee took his arm. "Pooh! There are +plenty girls will have you. You wanna get some +nice French girl, now. She treat you well; +always be jolly. See,"--he began checking off +on his fingers,--"there is Severine, and +Alphosen, and Josephine, and Hectorine, and +Louise, and Malvina--why, I could love any +of them girls! Why don't you get after them? +Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the +matter with you? I never did know a boy +twenty-two years old before that didn't have +no girl. You wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a +for me!" Amedee swaggered. "I bring many +good Catholics into this world, I hope, and +that's a way I help the Church." + + Emil looked down and patted him on the +shoulder. "Now you're windy, 'Medee. You +Frenchies like to brag." + + But Amedee had the zeal of the newly mar- +ried, and he was not to be lightly shaken off. +"Honest and true, Emil, don't you want ANY +girl? Maybe there's some young lady in Lin- +coln, now, very grand,"--Amedee waved his +hand languidly before his face to denote the +fan of heartless beauty,--"and you lost your +heart up there. Is that it?" + + "Maybe," said Emil. + + But Amedee saw no appropriate glow in his +friend's face. "Bah!" he exclaimed in disgust. +"I tell all the French girls to keep 'way from +you. You gotta rock in there," thumping Emil +on the ribs. + + When they reached the terrace at the side of +the church, Amedee, who was excited by his +success on the ball-grounds, challenged Emil +to a jumping-match, though he knew he would +be beaten. They belted themselves up, and +Raoul Marcel, the choir tenor and Father +Duchesne's pet, and Jean Bordelau, held the +string over which they vaulted. All the +French boys stood round, cheering and hump- +ing themselves up when Emil or Amedee went +over the wire, as if they were helping in the lift. +Emil stopped at five-feet-five, declaring that +he would spoil his appetite for supper if he +jumped any more. + + Angelique, Amedee's pretty bride, as blonde +and fair as her name, who had come out to +watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and +said:-- + + "'Medee could jump much higher than you +if he were as tall. And anyhow, he is much more +graceful. He goes over like a bird, and you +have to hump yourself all up." + + "Oh, I do, do I?" Emil caught her and +kissed her saucy mouth squarely, while she +laughed and struggled and called, "'Medee! +'Medee!" + + "There, you see your 'Medee isn't even big +enough to get you away from me. I could run +away with you right now and he could only sit +down and cry about it. I'll show you whether +I have to hump myself!" Laughing and pant- +ing, he picked Angelique up in his arms and +began running about the rectangle with her. +Not until he saw Marie Shabata's tiger eyes +flashing from the gloom of the basement door- +way did he hand the disheveled bride over +to her husband. "There, go to your graceful; +I haven't the heart to take you away from +him." + + Angelique clung to her husband and made +faces at Emil over the white shoulder of +Amedee's ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused +at her air of proprietorship and at Amedee's +shameless submission to it. He was delighted +with his friend's good fortune. He liked to see +and to think about Amedee's sunny, natural, +happy love. + + He and Amedee had ridden and wrestled and +larked together since they were lads of twelve. +On Sundays and holidays they were always +arm in arm. It seemed strange that now he +should have to hide the thing that Amedee was +so proud of, that the feeling which gave one of +them such happiness should bring the other +such despair. It was like that when Alexandra +tested her seed-corn in the spring, he mused. +From two ears that had grown side by side, the +grains of one shot up joyfully into the light, +projecting themselves into the future, and the +grains from the other lay still in the earth and +rotted; and nobody knew why. + + + + X + + + While Emil and Carl were amusing them- +selves at the fair, Alexandra was at home, busy +with her account-books, which had been ne- +glected of late. She was almost through with +her figures when she heard a cart drive up to the +gate, and looking out of the window she saw her +two older brothers. They had seemed to avoid +her ever since Carl Linstrum's arrival, four +weeks ago that day, and she hurried to the +door to welcome them. She saw at once that +they had come with some very definite purpose. +They followed her stiffly into the sitting-room. +Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the +window and remained standing, his hands be- +hind him. + + "You are by yourself?" he asked, looking +toward the doorway into the parlor. + + "Yes. Carl and Emil went up to the Catho- +lic fair." + + For a few moments neither of the men spoke. + + Then Lou came out sharply. "How soon +does he intend to go away from here?" + + "I don't know, Lou. Not for some time, I +hope." Alexandra spoke in an even, quiet tone +that often exasperated her brothers. They felt +that she was trying to be superior with them. + + Oscar spoke up grimly. "We thought we +ought to tell you that people have begun to +talk," he said meaningly. + + Alexandra looked at him. "What about?" + + Oscar met her eyes blankly. "About you, +keeping him here so long. It looks bad for him +to be hanging on to a woman this way. People +think you're getting taken in." + + Alexandra shut her account-book firmly. +"Boys," she said seriously, "don't let's go on +with this. We won't come out anywhere. I +can't take advice on such a matter. I know you +mean well, but you must not feel responsible for +me in things of this sort. If we go on with this +talk it will only make hard feeling." + + Lou whipped about from the window. "You +ought to think a little about your family. +You're making us all ridiculous." + + "How am I?" + + "People are beginning to say you want to +marry the fellow." + + "Well, and what is ridiculous about that?" + + Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. +"Alexandra! Can't you see he's just a tramp +and he's after your money? He wants to be +taken care of, he does!" + + "Well, suppose I want to take care of him? +Whose business is it but my own?" + + "Don't you know he'd get hold of your property?" + + "He'd get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly." + + Oscar sat up suddenly and Lou clutched at +his bristly hair. + + "Give him?" Lou shouted. "Our property, +our homestead?" + + "I don't know about the homestead," said +Alexandra quietly. "I know you and Oscar +have always expected that it would be left to +your children, and I'm not sure but what +you're right. But I'll do exactly as I please +with the rest of my land, boys." + + "The rest of your land!" cried Lou, growing +more excited every minute. "Didn't all the +land come out of the homestead? It was bought +with money borrowed on the homestead, and +Oscar and me worked ourselves to the bone +paying interest on it." + + "Yes, you paid the interest. But when you +married we made a division of the land, and you +were satisfied. I've made more on my farms +since I've been alone than when we all worked +together." + + "Everything you've made has come out of +the original land that us boys worked for, +hasn't it? The farms and all that comes out of +them belongs to us as a family." + + Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. +"Come now, Lou. Stick to the facts. You are +talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and +ask him who owns my land, and whether my +titles are good." + + Lou turned to his brother. "This is what +comes of letting a woman meddle in business," +he said bitterly. "We ought to have taken +things in our own hands years ago. But she +liked to run things, and we humored her. We +thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We +never thought you'd do anything foolish." + + Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk +with her knuckles. "Listen, Lou. Don't talk +wild. You say you ought to have taken things +into your own hands years ago. I suppose you +mean before you left home. But how could you +take hold of what wasn't there? I've got most +of what I have now since we divided the prop- +erty; I've built it up myself, and it has nothing +to do with you." + + Oscar spoke up solemnly. "The property of a +family really belongs to the men of the family, +no matter about the title. If anything goes +wrong, it's the men that are held responsible." + + "Yes, of course," Lou broke in. "Everybody +knows that. Oscar and me have always been +easy-going and we've never made any fuss. +We were willing you should hold the land and +have the good of it, but you got no right to +part with any of it. We worked in the fields +to pay for the first land you bought, and what- +ever's come out of it has got to be kept in the +family." + + Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed +on the one point he could see. "The property +of a family belongs to the men of the family, +because they are held responsible, and because +they do the work." + + Alexandra looked from one to the other, her +eyes full of indignation. She had been impa- +tient before, but now she was beginning to feel +angry. "And what about my work?" she asked +in an unsteady voice. + + Lou looked at the carpet. "Oh, now, Alex- +andra, you always took it pretty easy! Of +course we wanted you to. You liked to manage +round, and we always humored you. We realize +you were a great deal of help to us. There's no +woman anywhere around that knows as much +about business as you do, and we've always +been proud of that, and thought you were +pretty smart. But, of course, the real work +always fell on us. Good advice is all right, but +it don't get the weeds out of the corn." + + "Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the +crop, and it sometimes keeps the fields for corn +to grow in," said Alexandra dryly. "Why, +Lou, I can remember when you and Oscar +wanted to sell this homestead and all the im- +provements to old preacher Ericson for two +thousand dollars. If I'd consented, you'd have +gone down to the river and scraped along on +poor farms for the rest of your lives. When I +put in our first field of alfalfa you both opposed +me, just because I first heard about it from a +young man who had been to the University. +You said I was being taken in then, and all the +neighbors said so. You know as well as I do +that alfalfa has been the salvation of this coun- +try. You all laughed at me when I said our +land here was about ready for wheat, and I had +to raise three big wheat crops before the neigh- +bors quit putting all their land in corn. Why, I +remember you cried, Lou, when we put in the +first big wheat-planting, and said everybody +was laughing at us." + + Lou turned to Oscar. "That's the woman of +it; if she tells you to put in a crop, she thinks +she's put it in. It makes women conceited to +meddle in business. I shouldn't think you'd +want to remind us how hard you were on us, +Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil." + + "Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. +Conditions were hard. Maybe I would never +have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly +didn't choose to be the kind of girl I was. If +you take even a vine and cut it back again and +again, it grows hard, like a tree." + + Lou felt that they were wandering from the +point, and that in digression Alexandra might +unnerve him. He wiped his forehead with a +jerk of his handkerchief. "We never doubted +you, Alexandra. We never questioned any- +thing you did. You've always had your own +way. But you can't expect us to sit like stumps +and see you done out of the property by any +loafer who happens along, and making yourself +ridiculous into the bargain." + + Oscar rose. "Yes," he broke in, "every- +body's laughing to see you get took in; at your +age, too. Everybody knows he's nearly five +years younger than you, and is after your +money. Why, Alexandra, you are forty years old!" + + "All that doesn't concern anybody but Carl +and me. Go to town and ask your lawyers what +you can do to restrain me from disposing of my +own property. And I advise you to do what +they tell you; for the authority you can exert +by law is the only influence you will ever have +over me again." Alexandra rose. "I think I +would rather not have lived to find out what I +have to-day," she said quietly, closing her desk. + + Lou and Oscar looked at each other ques- +tioningly. There seemed to be nothing to do +but to go, and they walked out. + + "You can't do business with women," Oscar +said heavily as he clambered into the cart. +"But anyhow, we've had our say, at last." + + Lou scratched his head. "Talk of that kind +might come too high, you know; but she's apt +to be sensible. You hadn't ought to said that +about her age, though, Oscar. I'm afraid that +hurt her feelings; and the worst thing we can do +is to make her sore at us. She'd marry him out +of contrariness." + + "I only meant," said Oscar, "that she is old +enough to know better, and she is. If she was +going to marry, she ought to done it long ago, +and not go making a fool of herself now." + + Lou looked anxious, nevertheless. "Of +course," he reflected hopefully and incon- +sistently, "Alexandra ain't much like other +women-folks. Maybe it won't make her sore. +Maybe she'd as soon be forty as not!" + + + + XI + + + Emil came home at about half-past seven +o'clock that evening. Old Ivar met him at the +windmill and took his horse, and the young man +went directly into the house. He called to his +sister and she answered from her bedroom, +behind the sitting-room, saying that she was +lying down. + + Emil went to her door. + + "Can I see you for a minute?" he asked. "I +want to talk to you about something before +Carl comes." + + Alexandra rose quickly and came to the door. +"Where is Carl?" + + "Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted +to talk to him, so he rode over to Oscar's with +them. Are you coming out?" Emil asked +impatiently. + + "Yes, sit down. I'll be dressed in a mo- +ment." + + Alexandra closed her door, and Emil sank +down on the old slat lounge and sat with his +head in his hands. When his sister came out, he +looked up, not knowing whether the interval +had been short or long, and he was surprised to +see that the room had grown quite dark. That +was just as well; it would be easier to talk if he +were not under the gaze of those clear, deliber- +ate eyes, that saw so far in some directions and +were so blind in others. Alexandra, too, was +glad of the dusk. Her face was swollen from +crying. + + Emil started up and then sat down again. +"Alexandra," he said slowly, in his deep young +baritone, "I don't want to go away to law +school this fall. Let me put it off another year. +I want to take a year off and look around. It's +awfully easy to rush into a profession you don't +really like, and awfully hard to get out of it. +Linstrum and I have been talking about that." + + "Very well, Emil. Only don't go off looking +for land." She came up and put her hand on his +shoulder. "I've been wishing you could stay +with me this winter." + + "That's just what I don't want to do, Alex- +andra. I'm restless. I want to go to a new place. +I want to go down to the City of Mexico to join +one of the University fellows who's at the head +of an electrical plant. He wrote me he could +give me a little job, enough to pay my way, and +I could look around and see what I want to do. +I want to go as soon as harvest is over. I guess +Lou and Oscar will be sore about it." + + "I suppose they will." Alexandra sat down +on the lounge beside him. "They are very +angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. +They will not come here again." + + Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he +did not notice the sadness of her tone. He was +thinking about the reckless life he meant to live +in Mexico. + + "What about?" he asked absently. + + "About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am +going to marry him, and that some of my +property will get away from them." + + Emil shrugged his shoulders. "What non- +sense!" he murmured. "Just like them." + + Alexandra drew back. "Why nonsense, Emil?" + + "Why, you've never thought of such a thing, +have you? They always have to have something to +fuss about." + + "Emil," said his sister slowly, "you ought +not to take things for granted. Do you agree +with them that I have no right to change my +way of living?" + + Emil looked at the outline of his sister's head +in the dim light. They were sitting close to- +gether and he somehow felt that she could +hear his thoughts. He was silent for a mo- +ment, and then said in an embarrassed tone, +"Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do +whatever you want to. I'll always back you." + + "But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to +you if I married Carl?" + + Emil fidgeted. The issue seemed to him too +far-fetched to warrant discussion. "Why, no. +I should be surprised if you wanted to. I can't +see exactly why. But that's none of my busi- +ness. You ought to do as you please. Certainly +you ought not to pay any attention to what the +boys say." + + Alexandra sighed. "I had hoped you might +understand, a little, why I do want to. But I +suppose that's too much to expect. I've had a +pretty lonely life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is +the only friend I have ever had." + + Emil was awake now; a name in her last sen- +tence roused him. He put out his hand and +took his sister's awkwardly. "You ought to do +just as you wish, and I think Carl's a fine fel- +low. He and I would always get on. I don't +believe any of the things the boys say about +him, honest I don't. They are suspicious of him +because he's intelligent. You know their way. +They've been sore at me ever since you let me +go away to college. They're always trying to +catch me up. If I were you, I wouldn't pay +any attention to them. There's nothing to get +upset about. Carl's a sensible fellow. He won't +mind them." + + "I don't know. If they talk to him the way +they did to me, I think he'll go away." + + Emil grew more and more uneasy. "Think +so? Well, Marie said it would serve us all right +if you walked off with him." + + "Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would." +Alexandra's voice broke. + + Emil began unlacing his leggings. "Why +don't you talk to her about it? There's Carl, I +hear his horse. I guess I'll go upstairs and get +my boots off. No, I don't want any supper. We +had supper at five o'clock, at the fair." + + Emil was glad to escape and get to his own +room. He was a little ashamed for his sister, +though he had tried not to show it. He felt +that there was something indecorous in her +proposal, and she did seem to him somewhat +ridiculous. There was trouble enough in the +world, he reflected, as he threw himself upon +his bed, without people who were forty years +old imagining they wanted to get married. In +the darkness and silence Emil was not likely to +think long about Alexandra. Every image +slipped away but one. He had seen Marie in +the crowd that afternoon. She sold candy at the +fair. WHY had she ever run away with Frank +Shabata, and how could she go on laughing and +working and taking an interest in things? Why +did she like so many people, and why had she +seemed pleased when all the French and Bohe- +mian boys, and the priest himself, crowded +round her candy stand? Why did she care +about any one but him? Why could he never, +never find the thing he looked for in her playful, +affectionate eyes? + + Then he fell to imagining that he looked once +more and found it there, and what it would be +like if she loved him,--she who, as Alexandra +said, could give her whole heart. In that dream +he could lie for hours, as if in a trance. His spirit +went out of his body and crossed the fields to +Marie Shabata. + + At the University dances the girls had often +looked wonderingly at the tall young Swede +with the fine head, leaning against the wall and +frowning, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the +ceiling or the floor. All the girls were a little +afraid of him. He was distinguished-looking, +and not the jollying kind. They felt that he was +too intense and preoccupied. There was some- +thing queer about him. Emil's fraternity +rather prided itself upon its dances, and some- +times he did his duty and danced every dance. +But whether he was on the floor or brooding in a +corner, he was always thinking about Marie +Shabata. For two years the storm had been +gathering in him. + + + + XII + + + Carl came into the sitting-room while Alex- +andra was lighting the lamp. She looked up at +him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp shoul- +ders stooped as if he were very tired, his face +was pale, and there were bluish shadows under +his dark eyes. His anger had burned itself out +and left him sick and disgusted. + + "You have seen Lou and Oscar?" Alexandra +asked. + + "Yes." His eyes avoided hers. + + Alexandra took a deep breath. "And now +you are going away. I thought so." + + Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed +the dark lock back from his forehead with his +white, nervous hand. "What a hopeless posi- +tion you are in, Alexandra!" he exclaimed +feverishly. "It is your fate to be always sur- +rounded by little men. And I am no better than +the rest. I am too little to face the criticism of +even such men as Lou and Oscar. Yes, I am +going away; to-morrow. I cannot even ask you +to give me a promise until I have something to +offer you. I thought, perhaps, I could do that; +but I find I can't." + + "What good comes of offering people things +they don't need?" Alexandra asked sadly. "I +don't need money. But I have needed you for a +great many years. I wonder why I have been +permitted to prosper, if it is only to take my +friends away from me." + + "I don't deceive myself," Carl said frankly. +"I know that I am going away on my own +account. I must make the usual effort. I must +have something to show for myself. To take +what you would give me, I should have to be +either a very large man or a very small one, +and I am only in the middle class." + + Alexandra sighed. "I have a feeling that if +you go away, you will not come back. Some- +thing will happen to one of us, or to both. +People have to snatch at happiness when they +can, in this world. It is always easier to lose +than to find. What I have is yours, if you care +enough about me to take it." + + Carl rose and looked up at the picture of +John Bergson. "But I can't, my dear, I can't! +I will go North at once. Instead of idling about +in California all winter, I shall be getting my +bearings up there. I won't waste another week. +Be patient with me, Alexandra. Give me a +year!" + + "As you will," said Alexandra wearily. "All +at once, in a single day, I lose everything; and I +do not know why. Emil, too, is going away." +Carl was still studying John Bergson's face and +Alexandra's eyes followed his. "Yes," she said, +"if he could have seen all that would come of the +task he gave me, he would have been sorry. I +hope he does not see me now. I hope that he is +among the old people of his blood and country, +and that tidings do not reach him from the +New World." + + + + + + + PART III + + Winter Memories + + + + + I + + + Winter has settled down over the Divide +again; the season in which Nature recuperates, +in which she sinks to sleep between the fruitful- +ness of autumn and the passion of spring. The +birds have gone. The teeming life that goes on +down in the long grass is exterminated. The +prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run +shivering from one frozen garden patch to an- +other and are hard put to it to find frost-bitten +cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes roam the +wintry waste, howling for food. The variegated +fields are all one color now; the pastures, the +stubble, the roads, the sky are the same leaden +gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcely per- +ceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue +they have taken on. The ground is frozen so +hard that it bruises the foot to walk in the roads +or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron +country, and the spirit is oppressed by its rigor +and melancholy. One could easily believe that in +that dead landscape the germs of life and fruit- +fulness were extinct forever. + + Alexandra has settled back into her old +routine. There are weekly letters from Emil. +Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl +went away. To avoid awkward encounters in +the presence of curious spectators, she has +stopped going to the Norwegian Church and +drives up to the Reform Church at Hanover, +or goes with Marie Shabata to the Catholic +Church, locally known as "the French Church." +She has not told Marie about Carl, or her dif- +ferences with her brothers. She was never very +communicative about her own affairs, and +when she came to the point, an instinct told her +that about such things she and Marie would +not understand one another. + + Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family +misunderstandings might deprive her of her +yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day +of December Alexandra telephoned Annie that +to-morrow she would send Ivar over for her +mother, and the next day the old lady arrived +with her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee +had always entered Alexandra's sitting-room +with the same exclamation, "Now we be yust-a +like old times!" She enjoyed the liberty Alex- +andra gave her, and hearing her own language +about her all day long. Here she could wear her +nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, +listen to Ivar reading the Bible, and here she +could run about among the stables in a pair of +Emil's old boots. Though she was bent almost +double, she was as spry as a gopher. Her face +was as brown as if it had been varnished, and as +full of wrinkles as a washerwoman's hands. She +had three jolly old teeth left in the front of her +mouth, and when she grinned she looked very +knowing, as if when you found out how to take +it, life wasn't half bad. While she and Alex- +andra patched and pieced and quilted, she +talked incessantly about stories she read in a +Swedish family paper, telling the plots in great +detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in +Gottland when she was a girl. Sometimes she +forgot which were the printed stories and which +were the real stories, it all seemed so far away. +She loved to take a little brandy, with hot +water and sugar, before she went to bed, and +Alexandra always had it ready for her. "It +sends good dreams," she would say with a +twinkle in her eye. + + When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for +a week, Marie Shabata telephoned one morning +to say that Frank had gone to town for the day, +and she would like them to come over for coffee +in the afternoon. Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out +and iron her new cross-stitched apron, which +she had finished only the night before; a checked +gingham apron worked with a design ten inches +broad across the bottom; a hunting scene, with +fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen. +Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and +refused a second helping of apple dumplings. +"I ta-ank I save up," she said with a giggle. + + At two o'clock in the afternoon Alexandra's +cart drove up to the Shabatas' gate, and Marie +saw Mrs. Lee's red shawl come bobbing up the +path. She ran to the door and pulled the old +woman into the house with a hug, helping her +to take off her wraps while Alexandra blan- +keted the horse outside. Mrs. Lee had put on +her best black satine dress--she abominated +woolen stuffs, even in winter--and a crocheted +collar, fastened with a big pale gold pin, con- +taining faded daguerreotypes of her father and +mother. She had not worn her apron for fear of +rumpling it, and now she shook it out and tied +it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie +drew back and threw up her hands, exclaiming, +"Oh, what a beauty! I've never seen this one +before, have I, Mrs. Lee?" + + The old woman giggled and ducked her head. +"No, yust las' night I ma-ake. See dis tread; +verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My sis- +ter send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like +dis." + + Marie ran to the door again. "Come in, +Alexandra. I have been looking at Mrs. Lee's +apron. Do stop on your way home and show it +to Mrs. Hiller. She's crazy about cross-stitch." + + While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, +Mrs. Lee went out to the kitchen and settled +herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove, +looking with great interest at the table, set for +three, with a white cloth, and a pot of pink +geraniums in the middle. "My, a-an't you +gotta fine plants; such-a much flower. How you +keep from freeze?" + + She pointed to the window-shelves, full of +blooming fuchsias and geraniums. + + "I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when +it's very cold I put them all on the table, in the +middle of the room. Other nights I only put +newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me +for fussing, but when they don't bloom he says, +'What's the matter with the darned things?'-- +What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?" + + "He got to Dawson before the river froze, +and now I suppose I won't hear any more until +spring. Before he left California he sent me a +box of orange flowers, but they didn't keep +very well. I have brought a bunch of Emil's +letters for you." Alexandra came out from the +sitting-room and pinched Marie's cheek play- +fully. "You don't look as if the weather ever +froze you up. Never have colds, do you? +That's a good girl. She had dark red cheeks like +this when she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She +looked like some queer foreign kind of a doll. +I've never forgot the first time I saw you in +Mieklejohn's store, Marie, the time father was +lying sick. Carl and I were talking about that +before he went away." + + "I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. +When are you going to send Emil's Christmas +box?" + + "It ought to have gone before this. I'll have +to send it by mail now, to get it there in time." + + Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from +her workbasket. "I knit this for him. It's a +good color, don't you think? Will you please +put it in with your things and tell him it's from +me, to wear when he goes serenading." + + Alexandra laughed. "I don't believe he goes +serenading much. He says in one letter that +the Mexican ladies are said to be very beauti- +ful, but that don't seem to me very warm +praise." + + Marie tossed her head. "Emil can't fool me. +If he's bought a guitar, he goes serenading. +Who wouldn't, with all those Spanish girls +dropping flowers down from their windows! +I'd sing to them every night, wouldn't you, +Mrs. Lee?" + + The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as +Marie bent down and opened the oven door. +A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the tidy +kitchen. "My, somet'ing smell good!" She +turned to Alexandra with a wink, her three yel- +low teeth making a brave show, "I ta-ank dat +stop my yaw from ache no more!" she said con- +tentedly. + + Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, +stuffed with stewed apricots, and began to dust +them over with powdered sugar. "I hope you'll +like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The +Bohemians always like them with their coffee. +But if you don't, I have a coffee-cake with nuts +and poppy seeds. Alexandra, will you get the +cream jug? I put it in the window to keep +cool." + + "The Bohemians," said Alexandra, as they +drew up to the table, "certainly know how to +make more kinds of bread than any other peo- +ple in the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at +the church supper that she could make seven +kinds of fancy bread, but Marie could make a +dozen." + + Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls +between her brown thumb and forefinger and +weighed it critically. "Yust like-a fedders," +she pronounced with satisfaction. "My, a-an't +dis nice!" she exclaimed as she stirred her +coffee. "I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly now, too, +I ta-ank." + + Alexandra and Marie laughed at her fore- +handedness, and fell to talking of their own +affairs. "I was afraid you had a cold when I +talked to you over the telephone the other +night, Marie. What was the matter, had you +been crying?" + + "Maybe I had," Marie smiled guiltily. +"Frank was out late that night. Don't you get +lonely sometimes in the winter, when every- +body has gone away?" + + "I thought it was something like that. If I +hadn't had company, I'd have run over to see +for myself. If you get down-hearted, what will +become of the rest of us?" Alexandra asked. + + "I don't, very often. There's Mrs. Lee +without any coffee!" + + Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her +powers were spent, Marie and Alexandra went +upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the +old lady wanted to borrow. "Better put on +your coat, Alexandra. It's cold up there, and I +have no idea where those patterns are. I may +have to look through my old trunks." Marie +caught up a shawl and opened the stair door, run- +ning up the steps ahead of her guest. "While I +go through the bureau drawers, you might look +in those hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over +where Frank's clothes hang. There are a lot +of odds and ends in them." + + She began tossing over the contents of the +drawers, and Alexandra went into the clothes- +closet. Presently she came back, holding a +slender elastic yellow stick in her hand. + + "What in the world is this, Marie? You +don't mean to tell me Frank ever carried such +a thing?" + + Marie blinked at it with astonishment and +sat down on the floor. "Where did you find it? +I didn't know he had kept it. I haven't seen +it for years." + + "It really is a cane, then?" + + "Yes. One he brought from the old coun- +try. He used to carry it when I first knew him. +Isn't it foolish? Poor Frank!" + + Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and +laughed. "He must have looked funny!" + + Marie was thoughtful. "No, he didn't, really. +It didn't seem out of place. He used to be +awfully gay like that when he was a young +man. I guess people always get what's hard- +est for them, Alexandra." Marie gathered the +shawl closer about her and still looked hard at +the cane. "Frank would be all right in the right +place," she said reflectively. "He ought to +have a different kind of wife, for one thing. Do +you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly +the right sort of woman for Frank--now. +The trouble is you almost have to marry a man +before you can find out the sort of wife he +needs; and usually it's exactly the sort you are +not. Then what are you going to do about it?" +she asked candidly. + + Alexandra confessed she didn't know. +"However," she added, "it seems to me that +you get along with Frank about as well as any +woman I've ever seen or heard of could." + + Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and +blowing her warm breath softly out into the +frosty air. "No; I was spoiled at home. I like +my own way, and I have a quick tongue. When +Frank brags, I say sharp things, and he never +forgets. He goes over and over it in his mind; +I can feel him. Then I'm too giddy. Frank's +wife ought to be timid, and she ought not to +care about another living thing in the world but +just Frank! I didn't, when I married him, but +I suppose I was too young to stay like that." +Marie sighed. + + Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so +frankly about her husband before, and she felt +that it was wiser not to encourage her. No +good, she reasoned, ever came from talking +about such things, and while Marie was think- +ing aloud, Alexandra had been steadily search- +ing the hat-boxes. "Aren't these the pat- +terns, Maria?" + + Maria sprang up from the floor. "Sure +enough, we were looking for patterns, weren't +we? I'd forgot about everything but Frank's +other wife. I'll put that away." + + She poked the cane behind Frank's Sunday +clothes, and though she laughed, Alexandra saw +there were tears in her eyes. + + When they went back to the kitchen, the +snow had begun to fall, and Marie's visitors +thought they must be getting home. She went +out to the cart with them, and tucked the robes +about old Mrs. Lee while Alexandra took the +blanket off her horse. As they drove away, +Marie turned and went slowly back to the +house. She took up the package of letters +Alexandra had brought, but she did not read +them. She turned them over and looked at the +foreign stamps, and then sat watching the fly- +ing snow while the dusk deepened in the kitchen +and the stove sent out a red glow. + + Marie knew perfectly well that Emil's letters +were written more for her than for Alexandra. +They were not the sort of letters that a young +man writes to his sister. They were both more +personal and more painstaking; full of descrip- +tions of the gay life in the old Mexican capital +in the days when the strong hand of Porfirio +Diaz was still strong. He told about bull-fights +and cock-fights, churches and FIESTAS, the flower- +markets and the fountains, the music and dan- +cing, the people of all nations he met in the +Italian restaurants on San Francisco Street. In +short, they were the kind of letters a young man +writes to a woman when he wishes himself and +his life to seem interesting to her, when he +wishes to enlist her imagination in his behalf. + + Marie, when she was alone or when she sat +sewing in the evening, often thought about +what it must be like down there where Emil +was; where there were flowers and street bands +everywhere, and carriages rattling up and +down, and where there was a little blind boot- +black in front of the cathedral who could play +any tune you asked for by dropping the lids +of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When +everything is done and over for one at twenty- +three, it is pleasant to let the mind wander +forth and follow a young adventurer who has +life before him. "And if it had not been for +me," she thought, "Frank might still be free +like that, and having a good time making peo- +ple admire him. Poor Frank, getting married +wasn't very good for him either. I'm afraid I +do set people against him, as he says. I seem, +somehow, to give him away all the time. Per- +haps he would try to be agreeable to people +again, if I were not around. It seems as if I +always make him just as bad as he can be." + + Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back +upon that afternoon as the last satisfactory +visit she had had with Marie. After that day +the younger woman seemed to shrink more and +more into herself. When she was with Alexan- +dra she was not spontaneous and frank as she +used to be. She seemed to be brooding over +something, and holding something back. The +weather had a good deal to do with their seeing +less of each other than usual. There had not been +such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path +across the fields was drifted deep from Christ- +mas until March. When the two neighbors went +to see each other, they had to go round by the +wagon-road, which was twice as far. They tele- +phoned each other almost every night, though +in January there was a stretch of three weeks +when the wires were down, and when the post- +man did not come at all. + + Marie often ran in to see her nearest neigh- +bor, old Mrs. Hiller, who was crippled with +rheumatism and had only her son, the lame +shoemaker, to take care of her; and she went to +the French Church, whatever the weather. She +was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed for her- +self and for Frank, and for Emil, among the +temptations of that gay, corrupt old city. She +found more comfort in the Church that winter +than ever before. It seemed to come closer to +her, and to fill an emptiness that ached in her +heart. She tried to be patient with her hus- +band. He and his hired man usually played Cal- +ifornia Jack in the evening. Marie sat sew- +ing or crocheting and tried to take a friendly +interest in the game, but she was always +thinking about the wide fields outside, where +the snow was drifting over the fences; and +about the orchard, where the snow was falling +and packing, crust over crust. When she went +out into the dark kitchen to fix her plants +for the night, she used to stand by the window +and look out at the white fields, or watch the +currents of snow whirling over the orchard. +She seemed to feel the weight of all the snow +that lay down there. The branches had be- +come so hard that they wounded your hand if +you but tried to break a twig. And yet, down +under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the +trees, the secret of life was still safe, warm +as the blood in one's heart; and the spring +would come again! Oh, it would come again! + + + + II + + + If Alexandra had had much imagination she +might have guessed what was going on in +Marie's mind, and she would have seen long +before what was going on in Emil's. But that, +as Emil himself had more than once reflected, +was Alexandra's blind side, and her life had not +been of the kind to sharpen her vision. Her +training had all been toward the end of making +her proficient in what she had undertaken to do. +Her personal life, her own realization of herself, +was almost a subconscious existence; like an +underground river that came to the surface only +here and there, at intervals months apart, and +then sank again to flow on under her own fields. +Nevertheless, the underground stream was +there, and it was because she had so much per- +sonality to put into her enterprises and suc- +ceeded in putting it into them so completely, +that her affairs prospered better than those of +her neighbors. + + There were certain days in her life, out- +wardly uneventful, which Alexandra remem- +bered as peculiarly happy; days when she was +close to the flat, fallow world about her, and +felt, as it were, in her own body the joyous +germination in the soil. There were days, +too, which she and Emil had spent together, +upon which she loved to look back. There +had been such a day when they were down +on the river in the dry year, looking over the +land. They had made an early start one +morning and had driven a long way before +noon. When Emil said he was hungry, they +drew back from the road, gave Brigham his +oats among the bushes, and climbed up to the +top of a grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the +shade of some little elm trees. The river was +clear there, and shallow, since there had been +no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling +sand. Under the overhanging willows of the +opposite bank there was an inlet where the +water was deeper and flowed so slowly that it +seemed to sleep in the sun. In this little bay a +single wild duck was swimming and diving and +preening her feathers, disporting herself very +happily in the flickering light and shade. They +sat for a long time, watching the solitary bird +take its pleasure. No living thing had ever +seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild +duck. Emil must have felt about it as she did, +for afterward, when they were at home, he used +sometimes to say, "Sister, you know our duck +down there--" Alexandra remembered that +day as one of the happiest in her life. Years +afterward she thought of the duck as still there, +swimming and diving all by herself in the sun- +light, a kind of enchanted bird that did not +know age or change. + + Most of Alexandra's happy memories were as +impersonal as this one; yet to her they were +very personal. Her mind was a white book, +with clear writing about weather and beasts and +growing things. Not many people would have +cared to read it; only a happy few. She had +never been in love, she had never indulged in +sentimental reveries. Even as a girl she had +looked upon men as work-fellows. She had +grown up in serious times. + + There was one fancy indeed, which persisted +through her girlhood. It most often came to +her on Sunday mornings, the one day in the +week when she lay late abed listening to the +familiar morning sounds; the windmill singing +in the brisk breeze, Emil whistling as he blacked +his boots down by the kitchen door. Some- +times, as she lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes +closed, she used to have an illusion of being +lifted up bodily and carried lightly by some one +very strong. It was a man, certainly, who car- +ried her, but he was like no man she knew; he +was much larger and stronger and swifter, and +he carried her as easily as if she were a sheaf +of wheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes +closed, she could feel that he was yellow like the +sunlight, and there was the smell of ripe corn- +fields about him. She could feel him approach, +bend over her and lift her, and then she could +feel herself being carried swiftly off across the +fields. After such a reverie she would rise has- +tily, angry with herself, and go down to the +bath-house that was partitioned off the kitchen +shed. There she would stand in a tin tub and +prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by +pouring buckets of cold well-water over her +gleaming white body which no man on the +Divide could have carried very far. + + As she grew older, this fancy more often +came to her when she was tired than when she +was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had +been in the open all day, overseeing the brand- +ing of the cattle or the loading of the pigs, she +would come in chilled, take a concoction of +spices and warm home-made wine, and go to bed +with her body actually aching with fatigue. +Then, just before she went to sleep, she had +the old sensation of being lifted and carried by +a strong being who took from her all her bodily +weariness. + + + + + + + PART IV + + The White Mulberry Tree + + + + + I + + + The French Church, properly the Church of +Sainte-Agnes, stood upon a hill. The high, nar- +row, red-brick building, with its tall steeple and +steep roof, could be seen for miles across the +wheatfields, though the little town of Sainte- +Agnes was completely hidden away at the foot +of the hill. The church looked powerful and +triumphant there on its eminence, so high above +the rest of the landscape, with miles of warm +color lying at its feet, and by its position and +setting it reminded one of some of the churches +built long ago in the wheat-lands of middle +France. + + Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson +was driving along one of the many roads that +led through the rich French farming country to +the big church. The sunlight was shining di- +rectly in her face, and there was a blaze of light +all about the red church on the hill. Beside +Alexandra lounged a strikingly exotic figure in a +tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, and a black vel- +vet jacket sewn with silver buttons. Emil had +returned only the night before, and his sister +was so proud of him that she decided at once +to take him up to the church supper, and to +make him wear the Mexican costume he had +brought home in his trunk. "All the girls who +have stands are going to wear fancy costumes," +she argued, "and some of the boys. Marie is +going to tell fortunes, and she sent to Omaha +for a Bohemian dress her father brought back +from a visit to the old country. If you wear +those clothes, they will all be pleased. And you +must take your guitar. Everybody ought to do +what they can to help along, and we have never +done much. We are not a talented family." + + The supper was to be at six o'clock, in the +basement of the church, and afterward there +would be a fair, with charades and an auction. +Alexandra had set out from home early, leaving +the house to Signa and Nelse Jensen, who were to +be married next week. Signa had shyly asked to +have the wedding put off until Emil came home. + + Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. +As they drove through the rolling French coun- +try toward the westering sun and the stalwart +church, she was thinking of that time long ago +when she and Emil drove back from the river +valley to the still unconquered Divide. Yes, +she told herself, it had been worth while; both +Emil and the country had become what she had +hoped. Out of her father's children there was +one who was fit to cope with the world, who had +not been tied to the plow, and who had a per- +sonality apart from the soil. And that, she +reflected, was what she had worked for. She +felt well satisfied with her life. + + When they reached the church, a score of +teams were hitched in front of the basement +doors that opened from the hillside upon the +sanded terrace, where the boys wrestled and had +jumping-matches. Amedee Chevalier, a proud +father of one week, rushed out and embraced +Emil. Amedee was an only son,--hence he +was a very rich young man,--but he meant to +have twenty children himself, like his uncle +Xavier. "Oh, Emil," he cried, hugging his old +friend rapturously, "why ain't you been up to +see my boy? You come to-morrow, sure? +Emil, you wanna get a boy right off! It's the +greatest thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick +at all. Everything just fine. That boy he come +into this world laughin', and he been laughin' +ever since. You come an' see!" He pounded +Emil's ribs to emphasize each announcement. + + Emil caught his arms. "Stop, Amedee. +You're knocking the wind out of me. I brought +him cups and spoons and blankets and mocca- +sins enough for an orphan asylum. I'm awful +glad it's a boy, sure enough!" + + The young men crowded round Emil to ad- +mire his costume and to tell him in a breath +everything that had happened since he went +away. Emil had more friends up here in the +French country than down on Norway Creek. +The French and Bohemian boys were spirited +and jolly, liked variety, and were as much pre- +disposed to favor anything new as the Scandi- +navian boys were to reject it. The Norwegian +and Swedish lads were much more self-centred, +apt to be egotistical and jealous. They were +cautious and reserved with Emil because he +had been away to college, and were prepared +to take him down if he should try to put on +airs with them. The French boys liked a bit +of swagger, and they were always delighted to +hear about anything new: new clothes, new +games, new songs, new dances. Now they car- +ried Emil off to show him the club room they +had just fitted up over the post-office, down in +the village. They ran down the hill in a drove, +all laughing and chattering at once, some in +French, some in English. + + Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed +basement where the women were setting the +tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building +a little tent of shawls where she was to tell +fortunes. She sprang down and ran toward +Alexandra, stopping short and looking at her +in disappointment. Alexandra nodded to her +encouragingly. + + "Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have +taken him off to show him something. You +won't know him. He is a man now, sure enough. +I have no boy left. He smokes terrible-smelling +Mexican cigarettes and talks Spanish. How +pretty you look, child. Where did you get those +beautiful earrings?" + + "They belonged to father's mother. He +always promised them to me. He sent them +with the dress and said I could keep them." + + Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven +cloth, a white bodice and kirtle, a yellow silk +turban wound low over her brown curls, and +long coral pendants in her ears. Her ears had +been pierced against a piece of cork by her +great-aunt when she was seven years old. In +those germless days she had worn bits of broom- +straw, plucked from the common sweeping- +broom, in the lobes until the holes were healed +and ready for little gold rings. + + When Emil came back from the village, he +lingered outside on the terrace with the boys. +Marie could hear him talking and strumming +on his guitar while Raoul Marcel sang falsetto. +She was vexed with him for staying out there. +It made her very nervous to hear him and not +to see him; for, certainly, she told herself, she +was not going out to look for him. When the +supper bell rang and the boys came trooping in +to get seats at the first table, she forgot all +about her annoyance and ran to greet the tall- +est of the crowd, in his conspicuous attire. She +didn't mind showing her embarrassment at all. +She blushed and laughed excitedly as she gave +Emil her hand, and looked delightedly at the +black velvet coat that brought out his fair skin +and fine blond head. Marie was incapable of +being lukewarm about anything that pleased +her. She simply did not know how to give a +half-hearted response. When she was de- +lighted, she was as likely as not to stand on +her tip-toes and clap her hands. If people +laughed at her, she laughed with them. + + "Do the men wear clothes like that every +day, in the street?" She caught Emil by his +sleeve and turned him about. "Oh, I wish I +lived where people wore things like that! Are +the buttons real silver? Put on the hat, please. +What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear +it? Why don't you tell us about the bull- +fights?" + + She wanted to wring all his experiences from +him at once, without waiting a moment. Emil +smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at her +with his old, brooding gaze, while the French +girls fluttered about him in their white dresses +and ribbons, and Alexandra watched the scene +with pride. Several of the French girls, Marie +knew, were hoping that Emil would take them +to supper, and she was relieved when he took +only his sister. Marie caught Frank's arm and +dragged him to the same table, managing to get +seats opposite the Bergsons, so that she could +hear what they were talking about. Alexandra +made Emil tell Mrs. Xavier Chevalier, the +mother of the twenty, about how he had seen a +famous matador killed in the bull-ring. Marie +listened to every word, only taking her eyes +from Emil to watch Frank's plate and keep it +filled. When Emil finished his account,-- +bloody enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier and to +make her feel thankful that she was not a +matador,--Marie broke out with a volley of +questions. How did the women dress when +they went to bull-fights? Did they wear man- +tillas? Did they never wear hats? + + After supper the young people played char- +ades for the amusement of their elders, who sat +gossiping between their guesses. All the shops +in Sainte-Agnes were closed at eight o'clock +that night, so that the merchants and their +clerks could attend the fair. The auction was +the liveliest part of the entertainment, for the +French boys always lost their heads when they +began to bid, satisfied that their extravagance +was in a good cause. After all the pincushions +and sofa pillows and embroidered slippers were +sold, Emil precipitated a panic by taking out +one of his turquoise shirt studs, which every one +had been admiring, and handing it to the auc- +tioneer. All the French girls clamored for it, +and their sweethearts bid against each other +recklessly. Marie wanted it, too, and she kept +making signals to Frank, which he took a sour +pleasure in disregarding. He didn't see the use +of making a fuss over a fellow just because he +was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise +went to Malvina Sauvage, the French banker's +daughter, Marie shrugged her shoulders and +betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where +she began to shuffle her cards by the light of +a tallow candle, calling out, "Fortunes, for- +tunes!" + + The young priest, Father Duchesne, went +first to have his fortune read. Marie took his +long white hand, looked at it, and then began to +run off her cards. "I see a long journey across +water for you, Father. You will go to a town +all cut up by water; built on islands, it seems to +be, with rivers and green fields all about. And +you will visit an old lady with a white cap and +gold hoops in her ears, and you will be very +happy there." + + "Mais, oui," said the priest, with a melan- +choly smile. "C'est L'Isle-Adam, chez ma +mere. Vous etes tres savante, ma fille." He +patted her yellow turban, calling, "Venez +donc, mes garcons! Il y a ici une veritable +clairvoyante!" + + Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulg- +ing in a light irony that amused the crowd. She +told old Brunot, the miser, that he would lose +all his money, marry a girl of sixteen, and live +happily on a crust. Sholte, the fat Russian +boy, who lived for his stomach, was to be disap- +pointed in love, grow thin, and shoot himself +from despondency. Amedee was to have +twenty children, and nineteen of them were to +be girls. Amedee slapped Frank on the back +and asked him why he didn't see what the +fortune-teller would promise him. But Frank +shook off his friendly hand and grunted, "She +tell my fortune long ago; bad enough!" Then +he withdrew to a corner and sat glowering at +his wife. + + Frank's case was all the more painful because +he had no one in particular to fix his jealousy +upon. Sometimes he could have thanked the +man who would bring him evidence against his +wife. He had discharged a good farm-boy, Jan +Smirka, because he thought Marie was fond of +him; but she had not seemed to miss Jan when +he was gone, and she had been just as kind to +the next boy. The farm-hands would always do +anything for Marie; Frank couldn't find one so +surly that he would not make an effort to please +her. At the bottom of his heart Frank knew +well enough that if he could once give up his +grudge, his wife would come back to him. But +he could never in the world do that. The grudge +was fundamental. Perhaps he could not have +given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he got more +satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than +he would have got out of being loved. If he +could once have made Marie thoroughly un- +happy, he might have relented and raised her +from the dust. But she had never humbled her- +self. In the first days of their love she had been +his slave; she had admired him abandonedly. +But the moment he began to bully her and to be +unjust, she began to draw away; at first in tear- +ful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken dis- +gust. The distance between them had widened +and hardened. It no longer contracted and +brought them suddenly together. The spark of +her life went somewhere else, and he was always +watching to surprise it. He knew that some- +where she must get a feeling to live upon, for +she was not a woman who could live without +loving. He wanted to prove to himself the +wrong he felt. What did she hide in her heart? +Where did it go? Even Frank had his churlish +delicacies; he never reminded her of how much +she had once loved him. For that Marie was +grateful to him. + + While Marie was chattering to the French +boys, Amedee called Emil to the back of the +room and whispered to him that they were going +to play a joke on the girls. At eleven o'clock, +Amedee was to go up to the switchboard in the +vestibule and turn off the electric lights, and +every boy would have a chance to kiss his +sweetheart before Father Duchesne could find +his way up the stairs to turn the current on +again. The only difficulty was the candle in +Marie's tent; perhaps, as Emil had no sweet- +heart, he would oblige the boys by blowing out +the candle. Emil said he would undertake to do +that. + + At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to +Marie's booth, and the French boys dispersed +to find their girls. He leaned over the card- +table and gave himself up to looking at her. +"Do you think you could tell my fortune?" +he murmured. It was the first word he had +had alone with her for almost a year. "My +luck hasn't changed any. It's just the same." + + Marie had often wondered whether there +was anyone else who could look his thoughts +to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met +his steady, powerful eyes, it was impossible +not to feel the sweetness of the dream he was +dreaming; it reached her before she could shut +it out, and hid itself in her heart. She began +to shuffle her cards furiously. "I'm angry +with you, Emil," she broke out with petu- +lance. "Why did you give them that lovely +blue stone to sell? You might have known +Frank wouldn't buy it for me, and I wanted it +awfully!" + + Emil laughed shortly. "People who want +such little things surely ought to have them," +he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the +pocket of his velvet trousers and brought out a +handful of uncut turquoises, as big as marbles. +Leaning over the table he dropped them into +her lap. "There, will those do? Be careful, +don't let any one see them. Now, I suppose you +want me to go away and let you play with +them?" + + Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue +color of the stones. "Oh, Emil! Is everything +down there beautiful like these? How could you +ever come away?" + + At that instant Amedee laid hands on the +switchboard. There was a shiver and a giggle, +and every one looked toward the red blur that +Marie's candle made in the dark. Immediately +that, too, was gone. Little shrieks and currents +of soft laughter ran up and down the dark hall. +Marie started up,--directly into Emil's arms. +In the same instant she felt his lips. The veil +that had hung uncertainly between them for so +long was dissolved. Before she knew what she +was doing, she had committed herself to that +kiss that was at once a boy's and a man's, as +timid as it was tender; so like Emil and so +unlike any one else in the world. Not until it +was over did she realize what it meant. And +Emil, who had so often imagined the shock of +this first kiss, was surprised at its gentleness +and naturalness. It was like a sigh which they +had breathed together; almost sorrowful, as if +each were afraid of wakening something in the +other. + + When the lights came on again, everybody +was laughing and shouting, and all the French +girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only +Marie, in her little tent of shawls, was pale and +quiet. Under her yellow turban the red coral +pendants swung against white cheeks. Frank +was still staring at her, but he seemed to see +nothing. Years ago, he himself had had the +power to take the blood from her cheeks like +that. Perhaps he did not remember--perhaps +he had never noticed! Emil was already at the +other end of the hall, walking about with the +shoulder-motion he had acquired among the +Mexicans, studying the floor with his intent, +deep-set eyes. Marie began to take down and +fold her shawls. She did not glance up again. +The young people drifted to the other end of the +hall where the guitar was sounding. In a mo- +ment she heard Emil and Raoul singing:-- + + + "Across the Rio Grand-e + There lies a sunny land-e, + My bright-eyed Mexico!" + + + Alexandra Bergson came up to the card +booth. "Let me help you, Marie. You look +tired." + + She placed her hand on Marie's arm and felt +her shiver. Marie stiffened under that kind, +calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed +and hurt. + + There was about Alexandra something of the +impervious calm of the fatalist, always discon- +certing to very young people, who cannot feel +that the heart lives at all unless it is still at the +mercy of storms; unless its strings can scream +to the touch of pain. + + + + II + + + Signa's wedding supper was over. The +guests, and the tiresome little Norwegian +preacher who had performed the marriage cere- +mony, were saying good-night. Old Ivar was +hitching the horses to the wagon to take the +wedding presents and the bride and groom up to +their new home, on Alexandra's north quarter. +When Ivar drove up to the gate, Emil and +Marie Shabata began to carry out the presents, +and Alexandra went into her bedroom to bid +Signa good-bye and to give her a few words of +good counsel. She was surprised to find that +the bride had changed her slippers for heavy +shoes and was pinning up her skirts. At that +moment Nelse appeared at the gate with the +two milk cows that Alexandra had given Signa +for a wedding present. + + Alexandra began to laugh. "Why, Signa, +you and Nelse are to ride home. I'll send Ivar +over with the cows in the morning." + + Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When +her husband called her, she pinned her hat on +resolutely. "I ta-ank I better do yust like he +say," she murmured in confusion. + + Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to +the gate and saw the party set off, old Ivar +driving ahead in the wagon and the bride and +groom following on foot, each leading a cow. +Emil burst into a laugh before they were out of +hearing. + + "Those two will get on," said Alexandra as +they turned back to the house. "They are not +going to take any chances. They will feel safer +with those cows in their own stable. Marie, I +am going to send for an old woman next. As +soon as I get the girls broken in, I marry them +off." + + "I've no patience with Signa, marrying that +grumpy fellow!" Marie declared. "I wanted +her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked +for us last winter. I think she liked him, too." + + "Yes, I think she did," Alexandra assented, +"but I suppose she was too much afraid of +Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think +of it, most of my girls have married men they +were afraid of. I believe there is a good deal of +the cow in most Swedish girls. You high-strung +Bohemian can't understand us. We're a ter- +ribly practical people, and I guess we think a +cross man makes a good manager." + + Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to +pin up a lock of hair that had fallen on her neck. +Somehow Alexandra had irritated her of late. +Everybody irritated her. She was tired of +everybody. "I'm going home alone, Emil, so you +needn't get your hat," she said as she wound +her scarf quickly about her head. "Good-night, +Alexandra," she called back in a strained voice, +running down the gravel walk. + + Emil followed with long strides until he over- +took her. Then she began to walk slowly. It +was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, +and the fireflies were glimmering over the wheat. + + "Marie," said Emil after they had walked +for a while, "I wonder if you know how un- +happy I am?" + + Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its +white scarf, drooped forward a little. + + Emil kicked a clod from the path and went +on:-- + + "I wonder whether you are really shallow- +hearted, like you seem? Sometimes I think one +boy does just as well as another for you. It never +seems to make much difference whether it is me +or Raoul Marcel or Jan Smirka. Are you really +like that?" + + "Perhaps I am. What do you want me to +do? Sit round and cry all day? When I've +cried until I can't cry any more, then--then I +must do something else." + + "Are you sorry for me?" he persisted. + + "No, I'm not. If I were big and free like you, +I wouldn't let anything make me unhappy. As +old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, I wouldn't +go lovering after no woman. I'd take the first +train and go off and have all the fun there is." + + "I tried that, but it didn't do any good. +Everything reminded me. The nicer the place +was, the more I wanted you." They had come +to the stile and Emil pointed to it persuasively. +"Sit down a moment, I want to ask you some- +thing." Marie sat down on the top step and +Emil drew nearer. "Would you tell me some- +thing that's none of my business if you thought +it would help me out? Well, then, tell me, PLEASE +tell me, why you ran away with Frank Sha- +bata!" + + Marie drew back. "Because I was in love +with him," she said firmly. + + "Really?" he asked incredulously. + + "Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. +I think I was the one who suggested our run- +ning away. From the first it was more my fault +than his." + + Emil turned away his face. + + "And now," Marie went on, "I've got to +remember that. Frank is just the same now as +he was then, only then I would see him as I +wanted him to be. I would have my own way. +And now I pay for it." + + "You don't do all the paying." + + "That's it. When one makes a mistake, +there's no telling where it will stop. But you +can go away; you can leave all this behind +you." + + "Not everything. I can't leave you behind. +Will you go away with me, Marie?" + + Marie started up and stepped across the +stile. "Emil! How wickedly you talk! I am +not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But +what am I going to do if you keep tormenting +me like this!" she added plaintively. + + "Marie, I won't bother you any more if you +will tell me just one thing. Stop a minute and +look at me. No, nobody can see us. Every- +body's asleep. That was only a firefly. Marie, +STOP and tell me!" + + Emil overtook her and catching her by the +shoulders shook her gently, as if he were trying +to awaken a sleepwalker. + + Marie hid her face on his arm. "Don't ask +me anything more. I don't know anything +except how miserable I am. And I thought it +would be all right when you came back. Oh, +Emil," she clutched his sleeve and began to +cry, "what am I to do if you don't go away? I +can't go, and one of us must. Can't you see?" + + Emil stood looking down at her, holding his +shoulders stiff and stiffening the arm to which +she clung. Her white dress looked gray in the +darkness. She seemed like a troubled spirit, +like some shadow out of the earth, clinging to +him and entreating him to give her peace. Be- +hind her the fireflies were weaving in and out +over the wheat. He put his hand on her bent +head. "On my honor, Marie, if you will say +you love me, I will go away." + + She lifted her face to his. "How could I help +it? Didn't you know?" + + Emil was the one who trembled, through all +his frame. After he left Marie at her gate, he +wandered about the fields all night, till morning +put out the fireflies and the stars. + + + + III + + + One evening, a week after Signa's wedding, +Emil was kneeling before a box in the sitting- +room, packing his books. From time to time he +rose and wandered about the house, picking up +stray volumes and bringing them listlessly back +to his box. He was packing without enthusi- +asm. He was not very sanguine about his fu- +ture. Alexandra sat sewing by the table. She +had helped him pack his trunk in the afternoon. +As Emil came and went by her chair with his +books, he thought to himself that it had not +been so hard to leave his sister since he first +went away to school. He was going directly to +Omaha, to read law in the office of a Swedish +lawyer until October, when he would enter the +law school at Ann Arbor. They had planned +that Alexandra was to come to Michigan--a +long journey for her--at Christmas time, and +spend several weeks with him. Nevertheless, he +felt that this leavetaking would be more final +than his earlier ones had been; that it meant a +definite break with his old home and the begin- +ning of something new--he did not know +what. His ideas about the future would not +crystallize; the more he tried to think about it, +the vaguer his conception of it became. But +one thing was clear, he told himself; it was +high time that he made good to Alexandra, +and that ought to be incentive enough to begin +with. + + As he went about gathering up his books he +felt as if he were uprooting things. At last he +threw himself down on the old slat lounge where +he had slept when he was little, and lay looking +up at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. + + "Tired, Emil?" his sister asked. + + "Lazy," he murmured, turning on his side +and looking at her. He studied Alexandra's +face for a long time in the lamplight. It had +never occurred to him that his sister was a +handsome woman until Marie Shabata had +told him so. Indeed, he had never thought of +her as being a woman at all, only a sister. As +he studied her bent head, he looked up at the +picture of John Bergson above the lamp. +"No," he thought to himself, "she didn't get +it there. I suppose I am more like that." + + "Alexandra," he said suddenly, "that old +walnut secretary you use for a desk was +father's, wasn't it?" + + Alexandra went on stitching. "Yes. It was +one of the first things he bought for the old log +house. It was a great extravagance in those +days. But he wrote a great many letters back +to the old country. He had many friends there, +and they wrote to him up to the time he died. +No one ever blamed him for grandfather's dis- +grace. I can see him now, sitting there on Sun- +days, in his white shirt, writing pages and +pages, so carefully. He wrote a fine, regular +hand, almost like engraving. Yours is some- +thing like his, when you take pains." + + "Grandfather was really crooked, was he?" + + "He married an unscrupulous woman, and +then--then I'm afraid he was really crooked. +When we first came here father used to have +dreams about making a great fortune and going +back to Sweden to pay back to the poor sailors +the money grandfather had lost." + + Emil stirred on the lounge. "I say, that +would have been worth while, wouldn't it? +Father wasn't a bit like Lou or Oscar, was he? +I can't remember much about him before he +got sick." + + "Oh, not at all!" Alexandra dropped her +sewing on her knee. "He had better opportuni- +ties; not to make money, but to make some- +thing of himself. He was a quiet man, but he +was very intelligent. You would have been +proud of him, Emil." + + Alexandra felt that he would like to know +there had been a man of his kin whom he +could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed +of Lou and Oscar, because they were bigoted +and self-satisfied. He never said much about +them, but she could feel his disgust. His +brothers had shown their disapproval of him +ever since he first went away to school. The +only thing that would have satisfied them +would have been his failure at the University. +As it was, they resented every change in his +speech, in his dress, in his point of view; though +the latter they had to conjecture, for Emil +avoided talking to them about any but family +matters. All his interests they treated as +affectations. + + Alexandra took up her sewing again. "I can +remember father when he was quite a young +man. He belonged to some kind of a musical +society, a male chorus, in Stockholm. I can +remember going with mother to hear them sing. +There must have been a hundred of them, and +they all wore long black coats and white neck- +ties. I was used to seeing father in a blue coat, +a sort of jacket, and when I recognized him +on the platform, I was very proud. Do you +remember that Swedish song he taught you, +about the ship boy?" + + "Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. +They like anything different." Emil paused. +"Father had a hard fight here, didn't he?" he +added thoughtfully. + + "Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he +had hope. He believed in the land." + + "And in you, I guess," Emil said to himself. +There was another period of silence; that warm, +friendly silence, full of perfect understanding, +in which Emil and Alexandra had spent many +of their happiest half-hours. + + At last Emil said abruptly, "Lou and Oscar +would be better off if they were poor, wouldn't +they?" + + Alexandra smiled. "Maybe. But their chil- +dren wouldn't. I have great hopes of Milly." + + Emil shivered. "I don't know. Seems to me +it gets worse as it goes on. The worst of the +Swedes is that they're never willing to find out +how much they don't know. It was like that at +the University. Always so pleased with them- +selves! There's no getting behind that con- +ceited Swedish grin. The Bohemians and Ger- +mans were so different." + + "Come, Emil, don't go back on your own +people. Father wasn't conceited, Uncle Otto +wasn't. Even Lou and Oscar weren't when +they were boys." + + Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dis- +pute the point. He turned on his back and lay +still for a long time, his hands locked under his +head, looking up at the ceiling. Alexandra +knew that he was thinking of many things. She +felt no anxiety about Emil. She had always +believed in him, as she had believed in the +land. He had been more like himself since he +got back from Mexico; seemed glad to be at +home, and talked to her as he used to do. +She had no doubt that his wandering fit was +over, and that he would soon be settled in +life. + + "Alexandra," said Emil suddenly, "do you +remember the wild duck we saw down on the +river that time?" + + His sister looked up. "I often think of her. +It always seems to me she's there still, just like +we saw her." + + "I know. It's queer what things one re- +members and what things one forgets." Emil +yawned and sat up. "Well, it's time to turn +in." He rose, and going over to Alexandra +stooped down and kissed her lightly on the +cheek. "Good-night, sister. I think you did +pretty well by us." + + Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. +Alexandra sat finishing his new nightshirt, that +must go in the top tray of his trunk. + + + + IV + + + The next morning Angelique, Amedee's +wife, was in the kitchen baking pies, assisted by +old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board +and the stove stood the old cradle that had been +Amedee's, and in it was his black-eyed son. As +Angelique, flushed and excited, with flour on +her hands, stopped to smile at the baby, Emil +Bergson rode up to the kitchen door on his mare +and dismounted. + + "'Medee is out in the field, Emil," Angelique +called as she ran across the kitchen to the oven. +"He begins to cut his wheat to-day; the first +wheat ready to cut anywhere about here. He +bought a new header, you know, because all the +wheat's so short this year. I hope he can rent it +to the neighbors, it cost so much. He and his +cousins bought a steam thresher on shares. You +ought to go out and see that header work. I +watched it an hour this morning, busy as I am +with all the men to feed. He has a lot of hands, +but he's the only one that knows how to drive +the header or how to run the engine, so he has +to be everywhere at once. He's sick, too, and +ought to be in his bed." + + Emil bent over Hector Baptiste, trying to +make him blink his round, bead-like black eyes. +"Sick? What's the matter with your daddy, +kid? Been making him walk the floor with +you?" + + Angelique sniffed. "Not much! We don't +have that kind of babies. It was his father that +kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be get- +ting up and making mustard plasters to put on +his stomach. He had an awful colic. He said he +felt better this morning, but I don't think he +ought to be out in the field, overheating him- +self." + + Angelique did not speak with much anxiety, +not because she was indifferent, but because she +felt so secure in their good fortune. Only good +things could happen to a rich, energetic, hand- +some young man like Amedee, with a new baby +in the cradle and a new header in the field. + + Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste's +head. "I say, Angelique, one of 'Medee's grand- +mothers, 'way back, must have been a squaw. +This kid looks exactly like the Indian babies." + + Angelique made a face at him, but old Mrs. +Chevalier had been touched on a sore point, +and she let out such a stream of fiery PATOIS that +Emil fled from the kitchen and mounted his +mare. + + Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, +Emil rode across the field to the clearing where +the thresher stood, driven by a stationary +engine and fed from the header boxes. As +Amedee was not on the engine, Emil rode on to +the wheatfield, where he recognized, on the +header, the slight, wiry figure of his friend, +coatless, his white shirt puffed out by the wind, +his straw hat stuck jauntily on the side of his +head. The six big work-horses that drew, or +rather pushed, the header, went abreast at a +rapid walk, and as they were still green at the +work they required a good deal of management +on Amedee's part; especially when they turned +the corners, where they divided, three and +three, and then swung round into line again +with a movement that looked as complicated as +a wheel of artillery. Emil felt a new thrill of +admiration for his friend, and with it the old +pang of envy at the way in which Amedee could +do with his might what his hand found to do, +and feel that, whatever it was, it was the most +important thing in the world. "I'll have to +bring Alexandra up to see this thing work," +Emil thought; "it's splendid!" + + When he saw Emil, Amedee waved to him +and called to one of his twenty cousins to take +the reins. Stepping off the header without +stopping it, he ran up to Emil who had dis- +mounted. "Come along," he called. "I have +to go over to the engine for a minute. I gotta +green man running it, and I gotta to keep an +eye on him." + + Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed +and more excited than even the cares of manag- +ing a big farm at a critical time warranted. As +they passed behind a last year's stack, Amedee +clutched at his right side and sank down for a +moment on the straw. + + "Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. +Something's the matter with my insides, for +sure." + + Emil felt his fiery cheek. "You ought to go +straight to bed, 'Medee, and telephone for the +doctor; that's what you ought to do." + + Amedee staggered up with a gesture of +despair. "How can I? I got no time to be sick. +Three thousand dollars' worth of new machin- +ery to manage, and the wheat so ripe it will +begin to shatter next week. My wheat's short, +but it's gotta grand full berries. What's he +slowing down for? We haven't got header +boxes enough to feed the thresher, I guess." + + Amedee started hot-foot across the stubble, +leaning a little to the right as he ran, and waved +to the engineer not to stop the engine. + + Emil saw that this was no time to talk about +his own affairs. He mounted his mare and rode +on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends there +good-bye. He went first to see Raoul Marcel, +and found him innocently practising the +"Gloria" for the big confirmation service on +Sunday while he polished the mirrors of his +father's saloon. + + As Emil rode homewards at three o'clock in +the afternoon, he saw Amedee staggering out of +the wheatfield, supported by two of his cousins. +Emil stopped and helped them put the boy to bed. + + + + V + + + When Frank Shabata came in from work at +five o'clock that evening, old Moses Marcel, +Raoul's father, telephoned him that Amedee +had had a seizure in the wheatfield, and that +Doctor Paradis was going to operate on him as +soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. +Frank dropped a word of this at the table, +bolted his supper, and rode off to Sainte- +Agnes, where there would be sympathetic dis- +cussion of Amedee's case at Marcel's saloon. + + As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned +Alexandra. It was a comfort to hear her friend's +voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there was to +be known about Amedee. Emil had been there +when they carried him out of the field, and had +stayed with him until the doctors operated for +appendicitis at five o'clock. They were afraid +it was too late to do much good; it should +have been done three days ago. Amedee was in +a very bad way. Emil had just come home, +worn out and sick himself. She had given him +some brandy and put him to bed. + + Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amedee's +illness had taken on a new meaning to her, now +that she knew Emil had been with him. And it +might so easily have been the other way-- +Emil who was ill and Amedee who was sad! +Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. +She had seldom felt so utterly lonely. If Emil +was asleep, there was not even a chance of his +coming; and she could not go to Alexandra for +sympathy. She meant to tell Alexandra every- +thing, as soon as Emil went away. Then what- +ever was left between them would be honest. + + But she could not stay in the house this +evening. Where should she go? She walked +slowly down through the orchard, where the +evening air was heavy with the smell of wild +cotton. The fresh, salty scent of the wild roses +had given way before this more powerful per- +fume of midsummer. Wherever those ashes-of- +rose balls hung on their milky stalks, the air +about them was saturated with their breath. +The sky was still red in the west and the even- +ing star hung directly over the Bergsons' wind- +mill. Marie crossed the fence at the wheatfield +corner, and walked slowly along the path that +led to Alexandra's. She could not help feeling +hurt that Emil had not come to tell her about +Amedee. It seemed to her most unnatural that +he should not have come. If she were in trou- +ble, certainly he was the one person in the world +she would want to see. Perhaps he wished her +to understand that for her he was as good as +gone already. + + Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the +path, like a white night-moth out of the fields. +The years seemed to stretch before her like the +land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; +always the same patient fields, the patient little +trees, the patient lives; always the same yearn- +ing, the same pulling at the chain--until the +instinct to live had torn itself and bled and +weakened for the last time, until the chain +secured a dead woman, who might cautiously +be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted +toward the remote, inaccessible evening star. + + When she reached the stile she sat down and +waited. How terrible it was to love people when +you could not really share their lives! + + Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was +already gone. They couldn't meet any more. +There was nothing for them to say. They had +spent the last penny of their small change; +there was nothing left but gold. The day of +love-tokens was past. They had now only their +hearts to give each other. And Emil being +gone, what was her life to be like? In some +ways, it would be easier. She would not, at +least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were once +away and settled at work, she would not have +the feeling that she was spoiling his life. With +the memory he left her, she could be as rash as +she chose. Nobody could be the worse for it +but herself; and that, surely, did not matter. +Her own case was clear. When a girl had loved +one man, and then loved another while that man +was still alive, everybody knew what to think of +her. What happened to her was of little con- +sequence, so long as she did not drag other +people down with her. Emil once away, she +could let everything else go and live a new life +of perfect love. + + Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, +after all, thought he might come. And how +glad she ought to be, she told herself, that he +was asleep. She left the path and went across +the pasture. The moon was almost full. An +owl was hooting somewhere in the fields. She +had scarcely thought about where she was +going when the pond glittered before her, +where Emil had shot the ducks. She stopped +and looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty +way out of life, if one chose to take it. But she +did not want to die. She wanted to live and +dream--a hundred years, forever! As long as +this sweetness welled up in her heart, as long as +her breast could hold this treasure of pain! She +felt as the pond must feel when it held the moon +like that; when it encircled and swelled with + + In the morning, when Emil came down- +stairs, Alexandra met him in the sitting-room +and put her hands on his shoulders. "Emil, I +went to your room as soon as it was light, but +you were sleeping so sound I hated to wake +you. There was nothing you could do, so I +let you sleep. They telephoned from Sainte- +Agnes that Amedee died at three o'clock this +morning." + + + + VI + + + The Church has always held that life is for +the living. On Saturday, while half the vil- +lage of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Ame- +dee and preparing the funeral black for his +burial on Monday, the other half was busy +with white dresses and white veils for the great +confirmation service to-morrow, when the +bishop was to confirm a class of one hundred +boys and girls. Father Duchesne divided his +time between the living and the dead. All day +Saturday the church was a scene of bustling +activity, a little hushed by the thought of +Amedee. The choir were busy rehearsing a +mass of Rossini, which they had studied and +practised for this occasion. The women were +trimming the altar, the boys and girls were +bringing flowers. + + On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive +overland to Sainte-Agnes from Hanover, and +Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place +of one of Amedee's cousins in the cavalcade of +forty French boys who were to ride across coun- +try to meet the bishop's carriage. At six o'clock +on Sunday morning the boys met at the church. +As they stood holding their horses by the bridle, +they talked in low tones of their dead comrade. +They kept repeating that Amedee had always +been a good boy, glancing toward the red brick +church which had played so large a part in +Amedee's life, had been the scene of his most +serious moments and of his happiest hours. He +had played and wrestled and sung and courted +under its shadow. Only three weeks ago he had +proudly carried his baby there to be christened. +They could not doubt that that invisible arm +was still about Amedee; that through the church +on earth he had passed to the church triumph- +ant, the goal of the hopes and faith of so many +hundred years. + + When the word was given to mount, the +young men rode at a walk out of the village; +but once out among the wheatfields in the +morning sun, their horses and their own youth +got the better of them. A wave of zeal and fiery +enthusiasm swept over them. They longed for +a Jerusalem to deliver. The thud of their gal- +loping hoofs interrupted many a country break- +fast and brought many a woman and child to +the door of the farmhouses as they passed. Five +miles east of Sainte-Agnes they met the bishop +in his open carriage, attended by two priests. +Like one man the boys swung off their hats in a +broad salute, and bowed their heads as the +handsome old man lifted his two fingers in the +episcopal blessing. The horsemen closed about +the carriage like a guard, and whenever a rest- +less horse broke from control and shot down the +road ahead of the body, the bishop laughed and +rubbed his plump hands together. "What fine +boys!" he said to his priests. "The Church still +has her cavalry." + + As the troop swept past the graveyard half a +mile east of the town,--the first frame church +of the parish had stood there,--old Pierre +Seguin was already out with his pick and spade, +digging Amedee's grave. He knelt and un- +covered as the bishop passed. The boys with +one accord looked away from old Pierre to the +red church on the hill, with the gold cross +flaming on its steeple. + + Mass was at eleven. While the church was +filling, Emil Bergson waited outside, watching +the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After +the bell began to ring, he saw Frank Shabata +ride up on horseback and tie his horse to the +hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. Emil +turned and went into the church. Amedee's +was the only empty pew, and he sat down in it. +Some of Amedee's cousins were there, dressed +in black and weeping. When all the pews were +full, the old men and boys packed the open +space at the back of the church, kneeling on the +floor. There was scarcely a family in town that +was not represented in the confirmation class, +by a cousin, at least. The new communicants, +with their clear, reverent faces, were beautiful +to look upon as they entered in a body and took +the front benches reserved for them. Even +before the Mass began, the air was charged +with feeling. The choir had never sung so well +and Raoul Marcel, in the "Gloria," drew even +the bishop's eyes to the organ loft. For the +offertory he sang Gounod's "Ave Maria,"-- +always spoken of in Sainte-Agnes as "the Ave +Maria." + + Emil began to torture himself with questions +about Marie. Was she ill? Had she quarreled +with her husband? Was she too unhappy to +find comfort even here? Had she, perhaps, +thought that he would come to her? Was she +waiting for him? Overtaxed by excitement and +sorrow as he was, the rapture of the service took +hold upon his body and mind. As he listened +to Raoul, he seemed to emerge from the con- +flicting emotions which had been whirling him +about and sucking him under. He felt as if +a clear light broke upon his mind, and with it +a conviction that good was, after all, stronger +than evil, and that good was possible to men. +He seemed to discover that there was a kind +of rapture in which he could love forever with- +out faltering and without sin. He looked across +the heads of the people at Frank Shabata +with calmness. That rapture was for those who +could feel it; for people who could not, it +was non-existent. He coveted nothing that was +Frank Shabata's. The spirit he had met in +music was his own. Frank Shabata had never +found it; would never find it if he lived beside it +a thousand years; would have destroyed it if he +had found it, as Herod slew the innocents, as +Rome slew the martyrs. + + SAN--CTA MARI-I-I-A, + +wailed Raoul from the organ loft; + + O--RA PRO NO-O-BIS! + +And it did not occur to Emil that any one had +ever reasoned thus before, that music had ever +before given a man this equivocal revelation. + + The confirmation service followed the Mass. +When it was over, the congregation thronged +about the newly confirmed. The girls, and even +the boys, were kissed and embraced and wept +over. All the aunts and grandmothers wept +with joy. The housewives had much ado to +tear themselves away from the general rejoicing +and hurry back to their kitchens. The country +parishioners were staying in town for dinner, +and nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes enter- +tained visitors that day. Father Duchesne, the +bishop, and the visiting priests dined with +Fabien Sauvage, the banker. Emil and Frank +Shabata were both guests of old Moise Marcel. +After dinner Frank and old Moise retired to +the rear room of the saloon to play California +Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil went +over to the banker's with Raoul, who had been +asked to sing for the bishop. + + At three o'clock, Emil felt that he could +stand it no longer. He slipped out under cover +of "The Holy City," followed by Malvina's +wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. +He was at that height of excitement from which +everything is foreshortened, from which life +seems short and simple, death very near, and +the soul seems to soar like an eagle. As he rode +past the graveyard he looked at the brown hole +in the earth where Amedee was to lie, and felt no +horror. That, too, was beautiful, that simple +doorway into forgetfulness. The heart, when it +is too much alive, aches for that brown earth, +and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old +and the poor and the maimed who shrink from +that brown hole; its wooers are found among +the young, the passionate, the gallant-hearted. +It was not until he had passed the graveyard +that Emil realized where he was going. It was +the hour for saying good-bye. It might be the +last time that he would see her alone, and to- +day he could leave her without rancor, without +bitterness. + + Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot +afternoon was full of the smell of the ripe wheat, +like the smell of bread baking in an oven. The +breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed +him like pleasant things in a dream. He could +feel nothing but the sense of diminishing dis- +tance. It seemed to him that his mare was fly- +ing, or running on wheels, like a railway train. +The sunlight, flashing on the window-glass of +the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. He +was like an arrow shot from the bow. His life +poured itself out along the road before him as he +rode to the Shabata farm. + + When Emil alighted at the Shabatas' gate, +his horse was in a lather. He tied her in the +stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. +She might be at Mrs. Hiller's or with Alexan- +dra. But anything that reminded him of her +would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry +tree. . . When he reached the orchard the sun +was hanging low over the wheatfield. Long +fingers of light reached through the apple +branches as through a net; the orchard was rid- +dled and shot with gold; light was the reality, +the trees were merely interferences that reflected +and refracted light. Emil went softly down +between the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. +When he came to the corner, he stopped short +and put his hand over his mouth. Marie was +lying on her side under the white mulberry tree, +her face half hidden in the grass, her eyes +closed, her hands lying limply where they had +happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new +life of perfect love, and it had left her like this. +Her breast rose and fell faintly, as if she were +asleep. Emil threw himself down beside her and +took her in his arms. The blood came back to +her cheeks, her amber eyes opened slowly, and +in them Emil saw his own face and the orchard +and the sun. "I was dreaming this," she whis- +pered, hiding her face against him, "don't take +my dream away!" + + + + VII + + + When Frank Shabata got home that night, +he found Emil's mare in his stable. Such an +impertinence amazed him. Like everybody +else, Frank had had an exciting day. Since +noon he had been drinking too much, and he +was in a bad temper. He talked bitterly to him- +self while he put his own horse away, and as he +went up the path and saw that the house was +dark he felt an added sense of injury. He ap- +proached quietly and listened on the doorstep. +Hearing nothing, he opened the kitchen door +and went softly from one room to another. +Then he went through the house again, up- +stairs and down, with no better result. He sat +down on the bottom step of the box stairway +and tried to get his wits together. In that un- +natural quiet there was no sound but his own +heavy breathing. Suddenly an owl began to +hoot out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. +An idea flashed into his mind, and his sense +of injury and outrage grew. He went into his +bedroom and took his murderous 405 Winches- +ter from the closet. + + When Frank took up his gun and walked out +of the house, he had not the faintest purpose of +doing anything with it. He did not believe that +he had any real grievance. But it gratified him +to feel like a desperate man. He had got into +the habit of seeing himself always in desperate +straits. His unhappy temperament was like a +cage; he could never get out of it; and he felt +that other people, his wife in particular, must +have put him there. It had never more than +dimly occurred to Frank that he made his own +unhappiness. Though he took up his gun with +dark projects in his mind, he would have been +paralyzed with fright had he known that there +was the slightest probability of his ever carry- +ing any of them out. + + Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, +stopped and stood for a moment lost in +thought. He retraced his steps and looked +through the barn and the hayloft. Then he +went out to the road, where he took the foot- +path along the outside of the orchard hedge. +The hedge was twice as tall as Frank himself, +and so dense that one could see through it only +by peering closely between the leaves. He +could see the empty path a long way in the +moonlight. His mind traveled ahead to the +stile, which he always thought of as haunted +by Emil Bergson. But why had he left his +horse? + + At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard +hedge ended and the path led across the pasture +to the Bergsons', Frank stopped. In the warm, +breathless night air he heard a murmuring +sound, perfectly inarticulate, as low as the +sound of water coming from a spring, where +there is no fall, and where there are no stones to +fret it. Frank strained his ears. It ceased. He +held his breath and began to tremble. Resting +the butt of his gun on the ground, he parted the +mulberry leaves softly with his fingers and +peered through the hedge at the dark figures on +the grass, in the shadow of the mulberry tree. +It seemed to him that they must feel his eyes, +that they must hear him breathing. But they +did not. Frank, who had always wanted to see +things blacker than they were, for once wanted +to believe less than he saw. The woman lying +in the shadow might so easily be one of the +Bergsons' farm-girls. . . . Again the murmur, +like water welling out of the ground. This time +he heard it more distinctly, and his blood was +quicker than his brain. He began to act, just as +a man who falls into the fire begins to act. The +gun sprang to his shoulder, he sighted mechani- +cally and fired three times without stopping, +stopped without knowing why. Either he shut +his eyes or he had vertigo. He did not see any- +thing while he was firing. He thought he heard +a cry simultaneous with the second report, but +he was not sure. He peered again through the +hedge, at the two dark figures under the tree. +They had fallen a little apart from each other, +and were perfectly still-- No, not quite; in +a white patch of light, where the moon shone +through the branches, a man's hand was pluck- +ing spasmodically at the grass. + + Suddenly the woman stirred and uttered a +cry, then another, and another. She was living! +She was dragging herself toward the hedge! +Frank dropped his gun and ran back along the +path, shaking, stumbling, gasping. He had +never imagined such horror. The cries fol- +lowed him. They grew fainter and thicker, as +if she were choking. He dropped on his knees +beside the hedge and crouched like a rabbit, +listening; fainter, fainter; a sound like a whine; +again--a moan--another--silence. Frank +scrambled to his feet and ran on, groaning and +praying. From habit he went toward the house, +where he was used to being soothed when he had +worked himself into a frenzy, but at the sight +of the black, open door, he started back. He +knew that he had murdered somebody, that a +woman was bleeding and moaning in the or- +chard, but he had not realized before that it +was his wife. The gate stared him in the face. +He threw his hands over his head. Which way +to turn? He lifted his tormented face and +looked at the sky. "Holy Mother of God, not to +suffer! She was a good girl--not to suffer!" + + Frank had been wont to see himself in dra- +matic situations; but now, when he stood by the +windmill, in the bright space between the barn +and the house, facing his own black doorway, he +did not see himself at all. He stood like the +hare when the dogs are approaching from all +sides. And he ran like a hare, back and forth +about that moonlit space, before he could make +up his mind to go into the dark stable for a +horse. The thought of going into a doorway +was terrible to him. He caught Emil's horse +by the bit and led it out. He could not have +buckled a bridle on his own. After two or +three attempts, he lifted himself into the sad- +dle and started for Hanover. If he could catch +the one o'clock train, he had money enough to +get as far as Omaha. + + While he was thinking dully of this in some +less sensitized part of his brain, his acuter +faculties were going over and over the cries he +had heard in the orchard. Terror was the only +thing that kept him from going back to her, +terror that she might still be she, that she might +still be suffering. A woman, mutilated and +bleeding in his orchard--it was because it was +a woman that he was so afraid. It was incon- +ceivable that he should have hurt a woman. He +would rather be eaten by wild beasts than see +her move on the ground as she had moved in +the orchard. Why had she been so careless? +She knew he was like a crazy man when he was +angry. She had more than once taken that gun +away from him and held it, when he was angry +with other people. Once it had gone off while +they were struggling over it. She was never +afraid. But, when she knew him, why hadn't +she been more careful? Didn't she have all +summer before her to love Emil Bergson in, +without taking such chances? Probably she had +met the Smirka boy, too, down there in the +orchard. He didn't care. She could have met +all the men on the Divide there, and welcome, if +only she hadn't brought this horror on him. + + There was a wrench in Frank's mind. He did +not honestly believe that of her. He knew that +he was doing her wrong. He stopped his horse +to admit this to himself the more directly, to +think it out the more clearly. He knew that +he was to blame. For three years he had been +trying to break her spirit. She had a way of +making the best of things that seemed to him a +sentimental affectation. He wanted his wife to +resent that he was wasting his best years among +these stupid and unappreciative people; but she +had seemed to find the people quite good +enough. If he ever got rich he meant to buy +her pretty clothes and take her to California in +a Pullman car, and treat her like a lady; but in +the mean time he wanted her to feel that life +was as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. He had +tried to make her life ugly. He had refused to +share any of the little pleasures she was so +plucky about making for herself. She could be +gay about the least thing in the world; but she +must be gay! When she first came to him, her +faith in him, her adoration-- Frank struck the +mare with his fist. Why had Marie made him +do this thing; why had she brought this upon +him? He was overwhelmed by sickening mis- +fortune. All at once he heard her cries again-- +he had forgotten for a moment. "Maria," he +sobbed aloud, "Maria!" + + When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the +motion of his horse brought on a violent attack +of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on +again, but he could think of nothing except his +physical weakness and his desire to be com- +forted by his wife. He wanted to get into his +own bed. Had his wife been at home, he would +have turned and gone back to her meekly +enough. + + + + VIII + + + When old Ivar climbed down from his loft +at four o'clock the next morning, he came upon +Emil's mare, jaded and lather-stained, her +bridle broken, chewing the scattered tufts of +hay outside the stable door. The old man was +thrown into a fright at once. He put the mare +in her stall, threw her a measure of oats, and +then set out as fast as his bow-legs could carry +him on the path to the nearest neighbor. + + "Something is wrong with that boy. Some +misfortune has come upon us. He would never +have used her so, in his right senses. It is not +his way to abuse his mare," the old man kept +muttering, as he scuttled through the short, +wet pasture grass on his bare feet. + + While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the +first long rays of the sun were reaching down +between the orchard boughs to those two dew- +drenched figures. The story of what had hap- +pened was written plainly on the orchard grass, +and on the white mulberries that had fallen in +the night and were covered with dark stain. +For Emil the chapter had been short. He was +shot in the heart, and had rolled over on his +back and died. His face was turned up to the +sky and his brows were drawn in a frown, as +if he had realized that something had befallen +him. But for Marie Shabata it had not been so +easy. One ball had torn through her right lung, +another had shattered the carotid artery. She +must have started up and gone toward the +hedge, leaving a trail of blood. There she had +fallen and bled. From that spot there was +another trail, heavier than the first, where she +must have dragged herself back to Emil's body. +Once there, she seemed not to have struggled +any more. She had lifted her head to her lover's +breast, taken his hand in both her own, and +bled quietly to death. She was lying on her +right side in an easy and natural position, her +cheek on Emil's shoulder. On her face there was +a look of ineffable content. Her lips were parted +a little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a +day-dream or a light slumber. After she lay +down there, she seemed not to have moved an +eyelash. The hand she held was covered with +dark stains, where she had kissed it. + + But the stained, slippery grass, the darkened +mulberries, told only half the story. Above +Marie and Emil, two white butterflies from +Frank's alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out +among the interlacing shadows; diving and +soaring, now close together, now far apart; and +in the long grass by the fence the last wild roses +of the year opened their pink hearts to die. + + When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he +saw Shabata's rifle lying in the way. He turned +and peered through the branches, falling upon +his knees as if his legs had been mowed from +under him. "Merciful God!" he groaned; + + Alexandra, too, had risen early that morning, +because of her anxiety about Emil. She was in +Emil's room upstairs when, from the window, +she saw Ivar coming along the path that led +from the Shabatas'. He was running like a +spent man, tottering and lurching from side to +side. Ivar never drank, and Alexandra thought +at once that one of his spells had come upon +him, and that he must be in a very bad way +indeed. She ran downstairs and hurried out +to meet him, to hide his infirmity from the +eyes of her household. The old man fell in the +road at her feet and caught her hand, over +which he bowed his shaggy head. "Mistress, +mistress," he sobbed, "it has fallen! Sin and +death for the young ones! God have mercy +upon us!" + + + + + PART V + + Alexandra + + + + + I + + + Ivar was sitting at a cobbler's bench in the +barn, mending harness by the light of a lantern +and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. It +was only five o'clock of a mid-October day, but +a storm had come up in the afternoon, bring- +ing black clouds, a cold wind and torrents of +rain. The old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, +and occasionally stopped to warm his fingers at +the lantern. Suddenly a woman burst into the +shed, as if she had been blown in, accompanied +by a shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, +wrapped in a man's overcoat and wearing a +pair of boots over her shoes. In time of trouble +Signa had come back to stay with her mistress, +for she was the only one of the maids from +whom Alexandra would accept much personal +service. It was three months now since the +news of the terrible thing that had happened +in Frank Shabata's orchard had first run like +a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were +staying on with Alexandra until winter. + + "Ivar," Signa exclaimed as she wiped the +rain from her face, "do you know where she +is?" + + The old man put down his cobbler's knife. +"Who, the mistress?" + + "Yes. She went away about three o'clock. I +happened to look out of the window and saw +her going across the fields in her thin dress and +sun-hat. And now this storm has come on. I +thought she was going to Mrs. Hiller's, and I +telephoned as soon as the thunder stopped, but +she had not been there. I'm afraid she is out +somewhere and will get her death of cold." + + Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. +"JA, JA, we will see. I will hitch the boy's mare +to the cart and go." + + Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to +the horses' stable. She was shivering with cold +and excitement. "Where do you suppose she +can be, Ivar?" + + The old man lifted a set of single harness +carefully from its peg. "How should I know?" + + "But you think she is at the graveyard, +don't you?" Signa persisted. "So do I. Oh, I +wish she would be more like herself! I can't +believe it's Alexandra Bergson come to this, +with no head about anything. I have to tell her +when to eat and when to go to bed." + + "Patience, patience, sister," muttered Ivar +as he settled the bit in the horse's mouth. +"When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the eyes +of the spirit are open. She will have a message +from those who are gone, and that will bring her +peace. Until then we must bear with her. You +and I are the only ones who have weight with +her. She trusts us." + + "How awful it's been these last three +months." Signa held the lantern so that he +could see to buckle the straps. "It don't seem +right that we must all be so miserable. Why do +we all have to be punished? Seems to me like +good times would never come again." + + Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but +said nothing. He stooped and took a sandburr +from his toe. + + "Ivar," Signa asked suddenly, "will you tell +me why you go barefoot? All the time I lived +here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it for +a penance, or what?" + + "No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the +body. From my youth up I have had a strong, +rebellious body, and have been subject to every +kind of temptation. Even in age my tempta- +tions are prolonged. It was necessary to make +some allowances; and the feet, as I understand +it, are free members. There is no divine pro- +hibition for them in the Ten Commandments. +The hands, the tongue, the eyes, the heart, all +the bodily desires we are commanded to sub- +due; but the feet are free members. I indulge +them without harm to any one, even to tramp- +ling in filth when my desires are low. They are +quickly cleaned again." + + Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful +as she followed Ivar out to the wagon-shed and +held the shafts up for him, while he backed in +the mare and buckled the hold-backs. "You +have been a good friend to the mistress, Ivar," +she murmured. + + "And you, God be with you," replied Ivar as +he clambered into the cart and put the lan- +tern under the oilcloth lap-cover. "Now for a +ducking, my girl," he said to the mare, gather- +ing up the reins. + + As they emerged from the shed, a stream of +water, running off the thatch, struck the mare +on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly, +then struck out bravely on the soft ground, +slipping back again and again as she climbed +the hill to the main road. Between the rain and +the darkness Ivar could see very little, so he let +Emil's mare have the rein, keeping her head in +the right direction. When the ground was level, +he turned her out of the dirt road upon the sod, +where she was able to trot without slipping. + + Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three +miles from the house, the storm had spent +itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, +dripping rain. The sky and the land were a +dark smoke color, and seemed to be coming +together, like two waves. When Ivar stopped +at the gate and swung out his lantern, a white +figure rose from beside John Bergson's white +stone. + + The old man sprang to the ground and shuf- +fled toward the gate calling, "Mistress, mis- +tress!" + + Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her +hand on his shoulder. "TYST! Ivar. There's +nothing to be worried about. I'm sorry if I've +scared you all. I didn't notice the storm till it +was on me, and I couldn't walk against it. I'm +glad you've come. I am so tired I didn't know +how I'd ever get home." + + Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in +her face. "GUD! You are enough to frighten +us, mistress. You look like a drowned woman. +How could you do such a thing!" + + Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the +gate and helped her into the cart, wrapping her +in the dry blankets on which he had been sitting. + + Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. "Not +much use in that, Ivar. You will only shut the +wet in. I don't feel so cold now; but I'm heavy +and numb. I'm glad you came." + + Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a +sliding trot. Her feet sent back a continual +spatter of mud. + + Alexandra spoke to the old man as they +jogged along through the sullen gray twilight of +the storm. "Ivar, I think it has done me good +to get cold clear through like this, once. I don't +believe I shall suffer so much any more. When +you get so near the dead, they seem more real +than the living. Worldly thoughts leave one. +Ever since Emil died, I've suffered so when it +rained. Now that I've been out in it with him, +I shan't dread it. After you once get cold clear +through, the feeling of the rain on you is sweet. +It seems to bring back feelings you had when +you were a baby. It carries you back into the +dark, before you were born; you can't see things, +but they come to you, somehow, and you know +them and aren't afraid of them. Maybe it's like +that with the dead. If they feel anything at all, +it's the old things, before they were born, that +comfort people like the feeling of their own +bed does when they are little." + + "Mistress," said Ivar reproachfully, "those +are bad thoughts. The dead are in Paradise." + + Then he hung his head, for he did not believe +that Emil was in Paradise. + + When they got home, Signa had a fire burn- +ing in the sitting-room stove. She undressed +Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while +Ivar made ginger tea in the kitchen. When +Alexandra was in bed, wrapped in hot blankets, +Ivar came in with his tea and saw that she +drank it. Signa asked permission to sleep on +the slat lounge outside her door. Alexandra +endured their attentions patiently, but she was +glad when they put out the lamp and left her. +As she lay alone in the dark, it occurred to her +for the first time that perhaps she was actually +tired of life. All the physical operations of life +seemed difficult and painful. She longed to be +free from her own body, which ached and was +so heavy. And longing itself was heavy: she +yearned to be free of that. + + As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, +more vividly than for many years, the old illu- +sion of her girlhood, of being lifted and carried +lightly by some one very strong. He was with +her a long while this time, and carried her very +far, and in his arms she felt free from pain. +When he laid her down on her bed again, she +opened her eyes, and, for the first time in her +life, she saw him, saw him clearly, though the +room was dark, and his face was covered. He +was standing in the doorway of her room. His +white cloak was thrown over his face, and his +head was bent a little forward. His shoulders +seemed as strong as the foundations of the +world. His right arm, bared from the elbow, +was dark and gleaming, like bronze, and she +knew at once that it was the arm of the mighti- +est of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it +was she had waited, and where he would carry +her. That, she told herself, was very well. +Then she went to sleep. + + Alexandra wakened in the morning with +nothing worse than a hard cold and a stiff +shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, +and it was during that time that she formed a +resolution to go to Lincoln to see Frank Sha- +bata. Ever since she last saw him in the court- +room, Frank's haggard face and wild eyes +had haunted her. The trial had lasted only +three days. Frank had given himself up to the +police in Omaha and pleaded guilty of kill- +ing without malice and without premeditation. +The gun was, of course, against him, and the +judge had given him the full sentence,--ten +years. He had now been in the State Peni- +tentiary for a month. + + Frank was the only one, Alexandra told her- +self, for whom anything could be done. He had +been less in the wrong than any of them, and he +was paying the heaviest penalty. She often felt +that she herself had been more to blame than +poor Frank. From the time the Shabatas had +first moved to the neighboring farm, she had +omitted no opportunity of throwing Marie and +Emil together. Because she knew Frank was +surly about doing little things to help his wife, +she was always sending Emil over to spade or +plant or carpenter for Marie. She was glad to +have Emil see as much as possible of an intelli- +gent, city-bred girl like their neighbor; she no- +ticed that it improved his manners. She knew +that Emil was fond of Marie, but it had never +occurred to her that Emil's feeling might be dif- +ferent from her own. She wondered at herself +now, but she had never thought of danger in +that direction. If Marie had been unmarried, +--oh, yes! Then she would have kept her eyes +open. But the mere fact that she was Sha- +bata's wife, for Alexandra, settled everything. +That she was beautiful, impulsive, barely two +years older than Emil, these facts had had no +weight with Alexandra. Emil was a good boy, +and only bad boys ran after married women. + + Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize +that Marie was, after all, Marie; not merely +a "married woman." Sometimes, when Alex- +andra thought of her, it was with an aching +tenderness. The moment she had reached them +in the orchard that morning, everything was +clear to her. There was something about those +two lying in the grass, something in the way +Marie had settled her cheek on Emil's shoulder, +that told her everything. She wondered then +how they could have helped loving each other; +how she could have helped knowing that they +must. Emil's cold, frowning face, the girl's +content--Alexandra had felt awe of them, +even in the first shock of her grief. + + The idleness of those days in bed, the relax- +ation of body which attended them, enabled +Alexandra to think more calmly than she had +done since Emil's death. She and Frank, she +told herself, were left out of that group of +friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster. +She must certainly see Frank Shabata. Even +in the courtroom her heart had grieved for him. +He was in a strange country, he had no kins- +men or friends, and in a moment he had ruined +his life. Being what he was, she felt, Frank +could not have acted otherwise. She could +understand his behavior more easily than she +could understand Marie's. Yes, she must go to +Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. + + The day after Emil's funeral, Alexandra had +written to Carl Linstrum; a single page of note- +paper, a bare statement of what had happened. +She was not a woman who could write much +about such a thing, and about her own feelings +she could never write very freely. She knew +that Carl was away from post-offices, prospect- +ing somewhere in the interior. Before he started +he had written her where he expected to go, but +her ideas about Alaska were vague. As the +weeks went by and she heard nothing from him, +it seemed to Alexandra that her heart grew hard +against Carl. She began to wonder whether she +would not do better to finish her life alone. +What was left of life seemed unimportant. + + + + II + + + Late in the afternoon of a brilliant October +day, Alexandra Bergson, dressed in a black suit +and traveling-hat, alighted at the Burlington +depot in Lincoln. She drove to the Lindell +Hotel, where she had stayed two years ago +when she came up for Emil's Commencement. +In spite of her usual air of sureness and self- +possession, Alexandra felt ill at ease in hotels, +and she was glad, when she went to the clerk's +desk to register, that there were not many +people in the lobby. She had her supper early, +wearing her hat and black jacket down to the +dining-room and carrying her handbag. After +supper she went out for a walk. + + It was growing dark when she reached +the university campus. She did not go into the +grounds, but walked slowly up and down the +stone walk outside the long iron fence, looking +through at the young men who were running +from one building to another, at the lights shin- +ing from the armory and the library. A squad +of cadets were going through their drill behind +the armory, and the commands of their young +officer rang out at regular intervals, so sharp +and quick that Alexandra could not understand +them. Two stalwart girls came down the library +steps and out through one of the iron gates. As +they passed her, Alexandra was pleased to hear +them speaking Bohemian to each other. Every +few moments a boy would come running down +the flagged walk and dash out into the street as +if he were rushing to announce some wonder to +the world. Alexandra felt a great tenderness for +them all. She wished one of them would stop +and speak to her. She wished she could ask +them whether they had known Emil. + + As she lingered by the south gate she actually +did encounter one of the boys. He had on his +drill cap and was swinging his books at the +end of a long strap. It was dark by this time; +he did not see her and ran against her. He +snatched off his cap and stood bareheaded and +panting. "I'm awfully sorry," he said in a +bright, clear voice, with a rising inflection, as if +he expected her to say something. + + "Oh, it was my fault!" said Alexandra eagerly. +"Are you an old student here, may I ask?" + + "No, ma'am. I'm a Freshie, just off the +farm. Cherry County. Were you hunting +somebody?" + + "No, thank you. That is--" Alexandra +wanted to detain him. "That is, I would like to +find some of my brother's friends. He gradu- +ated two years ago." + + "Then you'd have to try the Seniors, +wouldn't you? Let's see; I don't know any of +them yet, but there'll be sure to be some of +them around the library. That red building, +right there," he pointed. + + "Thank you, I'll try there," said Alexandra +lingeringly. + + "Oh, that's all right! Good-night." The lad +clapped his cap on his head and ran straight +down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked after +him wistfully. + + She walked back to her hotel unreasonably +comforted. "What a nice voice that boy had, +and how polite he was. I know Emil was always +like that to women." And again, after she had +undressed and was standing in her nightgown, +brushing her long, heavy hair by the electric +light, she remembered him and said to herself, +"I don't think I ever heard a nicer voice than +that boy had. I hope he will get on well here. +Cherry County; that's where the hay is so fine, +and the coyotes can scratch down to water." + + At nine o'clock the next morning Alexandra +presented herself at the warden's office in the +State Penitentiary. The warden was a Ger- +man, a ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had +formerly been a harness-maker. Alexandra had +a letter to him from the German banker in +Hanover. As he glanced at the letter, Mr. +Schwartz put away his pipe. + + "That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he's +gettin' along fine," said Mr. Schwartz cheer- +fully. + + "I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he +might be quarrelsome and get himself into more +trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I +would like to tell you a little about Frank +Shabata, and why I am interested in him." + + The warden listened genially while she told +him briefly something of Frank's history and +character, but he did not seem to find anything +unusual in her account. + + "Sure, I'll keep an eye on him. We'll take +care of him all right," he said, rising. "You can +talk to him here, while I go to see to things in +the kitchen. I'll have him sent in. He ought +to be done washing out his cell by this time. We +have to keep 'em clean, you know." + + The warden paused at the door, speaking +back over his shoulder to a pale young man in +convicts' clothes who was seated at a desk in +the corner, writing in a big ledger. + + "Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just +step out and give this lady a chance to talk." + + The young man bowed his head and bent +over his ledger again. + + When Mr. Schwartz disappeared, Alexandra +thrust her black-edged handkerchief nervously +into her handbag. Coming out on the street- +car she had not had the least dread of meeting +Frank. But since she had been here the sounds +and smells in the corridor, the look of the men +in convicts' clothes who passed the glass door of +the warden's office, affected her unpleasantly. + + The warden's clock ticked, the young con- +vict's pen scratched busily in the big book, and +his sharp shoulders were shaken every few +seconds by a loose cough which he tried to +smother. It was easy to see that he was a sick +man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, but he +did not once raise his eyes. He wore a white +shirt under his striped jacket, a high collar, and +a necktie, very carefully tied. His hands were +thin and white and well cared for, and he had a +seal ring on his little finger. When he heard +steps approaching in the corridor, he rose, +blotted his book, put his pen in the rack, and +left the room without raising his eyes. Through +the door he opened a guard came in, bringing +Frank Shabata. + + "You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? +Here he is. Be on your good behavior, now. He +can set down, lady," seeing that Alexandra +remained standing. "Push that white button +when you're through with him, and I'll come." + + The guard went out and Alexandra and +Frank were left alone. + + Alexandra tried not to see his hideous +clothes. She tried to look straight into his face, +which she could scarcely believe was his. It +was already bleached to a chalky gray. His lips +were colorless, his fine teeth looked yellowish. +He glanced at Alexandra sullenly, blinked as if +he had come from a dark place, and one eye- +brow twitched continually. She felt at once +that this interview was a terrible ordeal to him. +His shaved head, showing the conformation of +his skull, gave him a criminal look which he had +not had during the trial. + + Alexandra held out her hand. "Frank," she +said, her eyes filling suddenly, "I hope you'll +let me be friendly with you. I understand how +you did it. I don't feel hard toward you. They +were more to blame than you." + + Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from +his trousers pocket. He had begun to cry. He +turned away from Alexandra. "I never did +mean to do not'ing to dat woman," he mut- +tered. "I never mean to do not'ing to dat boy. +I ain't had not'ing ag'in' dat boy. I always like +dat boy fine. An' then I find him--" He +stopped. The feeling went out of his face and +eyes. He dropped into a chair and sat looking +stolidly at the floor, his hands hanging loosely +between his knees, the handkerchief lying +across his striped leg. He seemed to have +stirred up in his mind a disgust that had para- +lyzed his faculties. + + "I haven't come up here to blame you, +Frank. I think they were more to blame than +you." Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. + + Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of +the office window. "I guess dat place all go to +hell what I work so hard on," he said with a +slow, bitter smile. "I not care a damn." He +stopped and rubbed the palm of his hand over +the light bristles on his head with annoyance. +"I no can t'ink without my hair," he com- +plained. "I forget English. We not talk here, +except swear." + + Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to +have undergone a change of personality. There +was scarcely anything by which she could +recognize her handsome Bohemian neighbor. +He seemed, somehow, not altogether human. +She did not know what to say to him. + + "You do not feel hard to me, Frank?" she +asked at last. + + Frank clenched his fist and broke out in +excitement. "I not feel hard at no woman. I +tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit my +wife. No, never I hurt her when she devil me +something awful!" He struck his fist down on +the warden's desk so hard that he afterward +stroked it absently. A pale pink crept over +his neck and face. "Two, t'ree years I know +dat woman don' care no more 'bout me, Alex- +andra Bergson. I know she after some other +man. I know her, oo-oo! An' I ain't never hurt +her. I never would-a done dat, if I ain't had +dat gun along. I don' know what in hell make +me take dat gun. She always say I ain't no +man to carry gun. If she been in dat house, +where she ought-a been-- But das a foolish +talk." + + Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, +as he had stopped before. Alexandra felt that +there was something strange in the way he +chilled off, as if something came up in him that +extinguished his power of feeling or thinking. + + "Yes, Frank," she said kindly. "I know you +never meant to hurt Marie." + + Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled +slowly with tears. "You know, I most forgit +dat woman's name. She ain't got no name for +me no more. I never hate my wife, but dat +woman what make me do dat-- Honest to +God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I don' +want to kill no boy and no woman. I not care +how many men she take under dat tree. I no +care for not'ing but dat fine boy I kill, Alexan- +dra Bergson. I guess I go crazy sure 'nough." + + Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane +she had found in Frank's clothes-closet. She +thought of how he had come to this country a +gay young fellow, so attractive that the pretti- +est Bohemian girl in Omaha had run away with +him. It seemed unreasonable that life should +have landed him in such a place as this. She +blamed Marie bitterly. And why, with her +happy, affectionate nature, should she have +brought destruction and sorrow to all who had +loved her, even to poor old Joe Tovesky, the +uncle who used to carry her about so proudly +when she was a little girl? That was the +strangest thing of all. Was there, then, some- +thing wrong in being warm-hearted and impul- +sive like that? Alexandra hated to think so. +But there was Emil, in the Norwegian grave- +yard at home, and here was Frank Shabata. +Alexandra rose and took him by the hand. + + "Frank Shabata, I am never going to stop +trying until I get you pardoned. I'll never +give the Governor any peace. I know I can get +you out of this place." + + Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he +gathered confidence from her face. "Alexan- +dra," he said earnestly, "if I git out-a here, I +not trouble dis country no more. I go back +where I come from; see my mother." + + Alexandra tried to withdraw her hand, but +Frank held on to it nervously. He put out his +finger and absently touched a button on her +black jacket. "Alexandra," he said in a low +tone, looking steadily at the button, "you ain' +t'ink I use dat girl awful bad before--" + + "No, Frank. We won't talk about that," +Alexandra said, pressing his hand. "I can't +help Emil now, so I'm going to do what I can +for you. You know I don't go away from +home often, and I came up here on purpose to +tell you this." + + The warden at the glass door looked in in- +quiringly. Alexandra nodded, and he came in +and touched the white button on his desk. The +guard appeared, and with a sinking heart +Alexandra saw Frank led away down the cor- +ridor. After a few words with Mr. Schwartz, +she left the prison and made her way to the +street-car. She had refused with horror the +warden's cordial invitation to "go through +the institution." As the car lurched over its un- +even roadbed, back toward Lincoln, Alexandra +thought of how she and Frank had been +wrecked by the same storm and of how, al- +though she could come out into the sunlight, +she had not much more left in her life than he. +She remembered some lines from a poem she +had liked in her schooldays:-- + + Henceforth the world will only be + A wider prison-house to me,-- + +and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her +heart; some such feeling as had twice frozen +Frank Shabata's features while they talked +together. She wished she were back on the +Divide. + + When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk +held up one finger and beckoned to her. As she +approached his desk, he handed her a telegram. +Alexandra took the yellow envelope and looked +at it in perplexity, then stepped into the ele- +vator without opening it. As she walked down +the corridor toward her room, she reflected that +she was, in a manner, immune from evil tid- +ings. On reaching her room she locked the door, +and sitting down on a chair by the dresser, +opened the telegram. It was from Hanover, +and it read:-- + + + Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait + here until you come. Please hurry. + CARL LINSTRUM. + + Alexandra put her head down on the dresser +and burst into tears. + + + + III + + + The next afternoon Carl and Alexandra +were walking across the fields from Mrs. +Hiller's. Alexandra had left Lincoln after mid- +night, and Carl had met her at the Hanover +station early in the morning. After they +reached home, Alexandra had gone over to +Mrs. Hiller's to leave a little present she had +bought for her in the city. They stayed at the +old lady's door but a moment, and then came +out to spend the rest of the afternoon in the +sunny fields. + + Alexandra had taken off her black traveling- +suit and put on a white dress; partly because +she saw that her black clothes made Carl un- +comfortable and partly because she felt op- +pressed by them herself. They seemed a little +like the prison where she had worn them yester- +day, and to be out of place in the open fields. +Carl had changed very little. His cheeks were +browner and fuller. He looked less like a tired +scholar than when he went away a year ago, +but no one, even now, would have taken him +for a man of business. His soft, lustrous black +eyes, his whimsical smile, would be less against +him in the Klondike than on the Divide. There +are always dreamers on the frontier. + + Carl and Alexandra had been talking since +morning. Her letter had never reached him. +He had first learned of her misfortune from a +San Francisco paper, four weeks old, which he +had picked up in a saloon, and which con- +tained a brief account of Frank Shabata's trial. +When he put down the paper, he had already +made up his mind that he could reach Alexandra +as quickly as a letter could; and ever since he +had been on the way; day and night, by the +fastest boats and trains he could catch. His +steamer had been held back two days by rough +weather. + + As they came out of Mrs. Hiller's garden +they took up their talk again where they had +left it. + + "But could you come away like that, Carl, +without arranging things? Could you just walk +off and leave your business?" Alexandra asked. + + Carl laughed. "Prudent Alexandra! You see, +my dear, I happen to have an honest partner. +I trust him with everything. In fact, it's been +his enterprise from the beginning, you know. +I'm in it only because he took me in. I'll +have to go back in the spring. Perhaps you +will want to go with me then. We haven't +turned up millions yet, but we've got a start +that's worth following. But this winter I'd like +to spend with you. You won't feel that we +ought to wait longer, on Emil's account, will +you, Alexandra?" + + Alexandra shook her head. "No, Carl; I +don't feel that way about it. And surely you +needn't mind anything Lou and Oscar say +now. They are much angrier with me about +Emil, now, than about you. They say it was all +my fault. That I ruined him by sending him to +college." + + "No, I don't care a button for Lou or +Oscar. The moment I knew you were in trou- +ble, the moment I thought you might need +me, it all looked different. You've always +been a triumphant kind of person." Carl +hesitated, looking sidewise at her strong, full +figure. "But you do need me now, Alex- +andra?" + + She put her hand on his arm. "I needed you +terribly when it happened, Carl. I cried for you +at night. Then everything seemed to get hard +inside of me, and I thought perhaps I should +never care for you again. But when I got your +telegram yesterday, then--then it was just as +it used to be. You are all I have in the world, +you know." + + Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were +passing the Shabatas' empty house now, but +they avoided the orchard path and took one +that led over by the pasture pond. + + "Can you understand it, Carl?" Alexandra +murmured. "I have had nobody but Ivar and +Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you un- +derstand it? Could you have believed that +of Marie Tovesky? I would have been cut +to pieces, little by little, before I would have +betrayed her trust in me!" + + Carl looked at the shining spot of water +before them. "Maybe she was cut to pieces, +too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they +both did. That was why Emil went to Mexico, +of course. And he was going away again, you +tell me, though he had only been home three +weeks. You remember that Sunday when I +went with Emil up to the French Church fair? +I thought that day there was some kind of feel- +ing, something unusual, between them. I +meant to talk to you about it. But on my way +back I met Lou and Oscar and got so angry +that I forgot everything else. You mustn't +be hard on them, Alexandra. Sit down here +by the pond a minute. I want to tell you +something." + + They sat down on the grass-tufted bank and +Carl told her how he had seen Emil and +Marie out by the pond that morning, more than +a year ago, and how young and charming and +full of grace they had seemed to him. "It hap- +pens like that in the world sometimes, Alexan- +dra," he added earnestly. "I've seen it before. +There are women who spread ruin around +them through no fault of theirs, just by being +too beautiful, too full of life and love. They +can't help it. People come to them as people go +to a warm fire in winter. I used to feel that in +her when she was a little girl. Do you remem- +ber how all the Bohemians crowded round her +in the store that day, when she gave Emil her +candy? You remember those yellow sparks in +her eyes?" + + Alexandra sighed. "Yes. People couldn't +help loving her. Poor Frank does, even now, I +think; though he's got himself in such a tangle +that for a long time his love has been bitterer +than his hate. But if you saw there was any- +thing wrong, you ought to have told me, Carl." + + Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. +"My dear, it was something one felt in the air, +as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in +summer. I didn't SEE anything. Simply, when +I was with those two young things, I felt my +blood go quicker, I felt--how shall I say it?-- +an acceleration of life. After I got away, it +was all too delicate, too intangible, to write +about." + + Alexandra looked at him mournfully. "I +try to be more liberal about such things than +I used to be. I try to realize that we are not +all made alike. Only, why couldn't it have +been Raoul Marcel, or Jan Smirka? Why did it +have to be my boy?" + + "Because he was the best there was, I sup- +pose. They were both the best you had here." + + The sun was dropping low in the west when +the two friends rose and took the path again. +The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, +the owls were flying home to the prairie-dog +town. When they came to the corner where the +pastures joined, Alexandra's twelve young colts +were galloping in a drove over the brow of the +hill. + + "Carl," said Alexandra, "I should like to go +up there with you in the spring. I haven't +been on the water since we crossed the ocean, +when I was a little girl. After we first came out +here I used to dream sometimes about the ship- +yard where father worked, and a little sort of +inlet, full of masts." Alexandra paused. After +a moment's thought she said, "But you would +never ask me to go away for good, would you?" + + "Of course not, my dearest. I think I know +how you feel about this country as well as you +do yourself." Carl took her hand in both his +own and pressed it tenderly. + + "Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is +gone. When I was on the train this morning, +and we got near Hanover, I felt something like +I did when I drove back with Emil from the +river that time, in the dry year. I was glad to +come back to it. I've lived here a long time. +There is great peace here, Carl, and freedom. +. . . I thought when I came out of that prison, +where poor Frank is, that I should never feel +free again. But I do, here." Alexandra took a +deep breath and looked off into the red west. + + "You belong to the land," Carl murmured, +"as you have always said. Now more than +ever." + + "Yes, now more than ever. You remember +what you once said about the graveyard, and +the old story writing itself over? Only it is we +who write it, with the best we have." + + They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, +overlooking the house and the windmill and the +stables that marked the site of John Bergson's +homestead. On every side the brown waves of +the earth rolled away to meet the sky. + + "Lou and Oscar can't see those things," said +Alexandra suddenly. "Suppose I do will my +land to their children, what difference will that +make? The land belongs to the future, Carl; +that's the way it seems to me. How many of the +names on the county clerk's plat will be there +in fifty years? I might as well try to will the +sunset over there to my brother's children. We +come and go, but the land is always here. And +the people who love it and understand it are +the people who own it--for a little while." + + Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was +still gazing into the west, and in her face there +was that exalted serenity that sometimes came +to her at moments of deep feeling. The level +rays of the sinking sun shone in her clear eyes. + + "Why are you thinking of such things now, +Alexandra?" + + "I had a dream before I went to Lincoln-- +But I will tell you about that afterward, after +we are married. It will never come true, now, +in the way I thought it might." She took Carl's +arm and they walked toward the gate. "How +many times we have walked this path together, +Carl. How many times we will walk it again! +Does it seem to you like coming back to your +own place? Do you feel at peace with the world +here? I think we shall be very happy. I haven't +any fears. I think when friends marry, they are +safe. We don't suffer like--those young ones." +Alexandra ended with a sigh. + + They had reached the gate. Before Carl +opened it, he drew Alexandra to him and kissed +her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. + + She leaned heavily on his shoulder. "I am +tired," she murmured. "I have been very +lonely, Carl." + + They went into the house together, leaving +the Divide behind them, under the evening +star. Fortunate country, that is one day to +receive hearts like Alexandra's into its bosom, +to give them out again in the yellow wheat, in +the rustling corn, in the shining eyes of youth! + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Edition of O Pioneers! + + + + diff --git a/old/opion10.zip b/old/opion10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f60c80 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/opion10.zip diff --git a/old/opion11.txt b/old/opion11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a4d06dc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/opion11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8272 @@ +This is the January 1992 Project Gutenberg release of: + +O Pioneers! +by +Willa Cather + +This electronic book is being released at this time +in the hopes that people will "Read More About It!" +when they see the Hallmark Hall of Fame production, +Sunday evening, February 2, 1992 on CBS television, +9:00 P.M. (8:00 P.M. 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KRAMER, Attorney +CompuServe: 72600,2026 + Internet: 72600.2026@compuserve.com + Tel: (212) 254-5093 + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.03.08.92*END* + + O Pioneers! + + by Willa Cather + + + + + PART I + + The Wild Land + + + + + I + + + One January day, thirty years ago, the little +town of Hanover, anchored on a windy Ne- +braska tableland, was trying not to be blown +away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling +and eddying about the cluster of low drab +buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a +gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set about +haphazard on the tough prairie sod; some of +them looked as if they had been moved in +overnight, and others as if they were straying +off by themselves, headed straight for the open +plain. None of them had any appearance of +permanence, and the howling wind blew under +them as well as over them. The main street +was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard, +which ran from the squat red railway station +and the grain "elevator" at the north end of +the town to the lumber yard and the horse +pond at the south end. On either side of this +road straggled two uneven rows of wooden +buildings; the general merchandise stores, the +two banks, the drug store, the feed store, the +saloon, the post-office. The board sidewalks +were gray with trampled snow, but at two +o'clock in the afternoon the shopkeepers, hav- +ing come back from dinner, were keeping well +behind their frosty windows. The children were +all in school, and there was nobody abroad in +the streets but a few rough-looking country- +men in coarse overcoats, with their long caps +pulled down to their noses. Some of them had +brought their wives to town, and now and then +a red or a plaid shawl flashed out of one store +into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars +along the street a few heavy work-horses, har- +nessed to farm wagons, shivered under their +blankets. About the station everything was +quiet, for there would not be another train in +until night. + + On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores +sat a little Swede boy, crying bitterly. He was +about five years old. His black cloth coat was +much too big for him and made him look like +a little old man. His shrunken brown flannel +dress had been washed many times and left a +long stretch of stocking between the hem of his +skirt and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed +shoes. His cap was pulled down over his ears; +his nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped +and red with cold. He cried quietly, and the +few people who hurried by did not notice him. +He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to go into +the store and ask for help, so he sat wringing his +long sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole +beside him, whimpering, "My kitten, oh, my +kitten! Her will fweeze!" At the top of the +pole crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing +faintly and clinging desperately to the wood +with her claws. The boy had been left at the +store while his sister went to the doctor's office, +and in her absence a dog had chased his kit- +ten up the pole. The little creature had never +been so high before, and she was too frightened +to move. Her master was sunk in despair. He +was a little country boy, and this village was to +him a very strange and perplexing place, where +people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. +He always felt shy and awkward here, and +wanted to hide behind things for fear some one +might laugh at him. Just now, he was too un- +happy to care who laughed. At last he seemed +to see a ray of hope: his sister was coming, and +he got up and ran toward her in his heavy +shoes. + + His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she +walked rapidly and resolutely, as if she knew +exactly where she was going and what she was +going to do next. She wore a man's long ulster +(not as if it were an affliction, but as if it were +very comfortable and belonged to her; carried +it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap, +tied down with a thick veil. She had a serious, +thoughtful face, and her clear, deep blue eyes +were fixed intently on the distance, without +seeming to see anything, as if she were in +trouble. She did not notice the little boy until +he pulled her by the coat. Then she stopped +short and stooped down to wipe his wet face. + + "Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store +and not to come out. What is the matter with +you?" + + "My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put +her out, and a dog chased her up there." His +forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his coat, +pointed up to the wretched little creature on +the pole. + + "Oh, Emil! Didn't I tell you she'd get us +into trouble of some kind, if you brought her? +What made you tease me so? But there, I +ought to have known better myself." She went +to the foot of the pole and held out her arms, +crying, "Kitty, kitty, kitty," but the kitten +only mewed and faintly waved its tail. Alex- +andra turned away decidedly. "No, she won't +come down. Somebody will have to go up after +her. I saw the Linstrums' wagon in town. I'll +go and see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do +something. Only you must stop crying, or I +won't go a step. Where's your comforter? Did +you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold +still, till I put this on you." + + She unwound the brown veil from her head +and tied it about his throat. A shabby little +traveling man, who was just then coming out of +the store on his way to the saloon, stopped and +gazed stupidly at the shining mass of hair she +bared when she took off her veil; two thick +braids, pinned about her head in the German +way, with a fringe of reddish-yellow curls blow- +ing out from under her cap. He took his cigar +out of his mouth and held the wet end between +the fingers of his woolen glove. "My God, girl, +what a head of hair!" he exclaimed, quite +innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with +a glance of Amazonian fierceness and drew in +her lower lip--most unnecessary severity. It +gave the little clothing drummer such a start +that he actually let his cigar fall to the side- +walk and went off weakly in the teeth of the +wind to the saloon. His hand was still unsteady +when he took his glass from the bartender. His +feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed +before, but never so mercilessly. He felt cheap +and ill-used, as if some one had taken advan- +tage of him. When a drummer had been knock- +ing about in little drab towns and crawling +across the wintry country in dirty smoking- +cars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced +upon a fine human creature, he suddenly wished +himself more of a man? + + While the little drummer was drinking to +recover his nerve, Alexandra hurried to the +drug store as the most likely place to find Carl +Linstrum. There he was, turning over a port- +folio of chromo "studies" which the druggist +sold to the Hanover women who did china- +painting. Alexandra explained her predica- +ment, and the boy followed her to the corner, +where Emil still sat by the pole. + + "I'll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I +think at the depot they have some spikes I can +strap on my feet. Wait a minute." Carl thrust +his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, +and darted up the street against the north +wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, slight and +narrow-chested. When he came back with the +spikes, Alexandra asked him what he had done +with his overcoat. + + "I left it in the drug store. I couldn't climb +in it, anyhow. Catch me if I fall, Emil," he +called back as he began his ascent. Alexandra +watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter +enough on the ground. The kitten would not +budge an inch. Carl had to go to the very top +of the pole, and then had some difficulty in tear- +ing her from her hold. When he reached the +ground, he handed the cat to her tearful little +master. "Now go into the store with her, Emil, +and get warm." He opened the door for the +child. "Wait a minute, Alexandra. Why can't +I drive for you as far as our place? It's get- +ting colder every minute. Have you seen the +doctor?" + + "Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But +he says father can't get better; can't get well." +The girl's lip trembled. She looked fixedly up +the bleak street as if she were gathering her +strength to face something, as if she were try- +ing with all her might to grasp a situation which, +no matter how painful, must be met and dealt +with somehow. The wind flapped the skirts of +her heavy coat about her. + + Carl did not say anything, but she felt his +sympathy. He, too, was lonely. He was a thin, +frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very quiet +in all his movements. There was a delicate pallor +in his thin face, and his mouth was too sensitive +for a boy's. The lips had already a little curl +of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends +stood for a few moments on the windy street +corner, not speaking a word, as two travelers, +who have lost their way, sometimes stand and +admit their perplexity in silence. When Carl +turned away he said, "I'll see to your team." +Alexandra went into the store to have her pur- +chases packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm +before she set out on her long cold drive. + + When she looked for Emil, she found him sit- +ting on a step of the staircase that led up to the +clothing and carpet department. He was play- +ing with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, +who was tying her handkerchief over the kit- +ten's head for a bonnet. Marie was a stranger +in the country, having come from Omaha with +her mother to visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. She +was a dark child, with brown curly hair, like a +brunette doll's, a coaxing little red mouth, +and round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one +noticed her eyes; the brown iris had golden +glints that made them look like gold-stone, or, +in softer lights, like that Colorado mineral +called tiger-eye. + + The country children thereabouts wore their +dresses to their shoe-tops, but this city child +was dressed in what was then called the "Kate +Greenaway" manner, and her red cashmere +frock, gathered full from the yoke, came almost +to the floor. This, with her poke bonnet, gave +her the look of a quaint little woman. She had +a white fur tippet about her neck and made +no fussy objections when Emil fingered it +admiringly. Alexandra had not the heart to +take him away from so pretty a playfellow, and +she let them tease the kitten together until Joe +Tovesky came in noisily and picked up his little +niece, setting her on his shoulder for every +one to see. His children were all boys, and he +adored this little creature. His cronies formed +a circle about him, admiring and teasing the +little girl, who took their jokes with great good +nature. They were all delighted with her, for +they seldom saw so pretty and carefully nur- +tured a child. They told her that she must +choose one of them for a sweetheart, and each +began pressing his suit and offering her bribes; +candy, and little pigs, and spotted calves. She +looked archly into the big, brown, mustached +faces, smelling of spirits and tobacco, then she +ran her tiny forefinger delicately over Joe's +bristly chin and said, "Here is my sweetheart." + + The Bohemians roared with laughter, and +Marie's uncle hugged her until she cried, "Please +don't, Uncle Joe! You hurt me." Each of Joe's +friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed +them all around, though she did not like coun- +try candy very well. Perhaps that was why she +bethought herself of Emil. "Let me down, +Uncle Joe," she said, "I want to give some of +my candy to that nice little boy I found." She +walked graciously over to Emil, followed by her +lusty admirers, who formed a new circle and +teased the little boy until he hid his face in his +sister's skirts, and she had to scold him for +being such a baby. + + The farm people were making preparations +to start for home. The women were checking +over their groceries and pinning their big red +shawls about their heads. The men were buy- +ing tobacco and candy with what money they +had left, were showing each other new boots +and gloves and blue flannel shirts. Three big +Bohemians were drinking raw alcohol, tinctured +with oil of cinnamon. This was said to fortify +one effectually against the cold, and they +smacked their lips after each pull at the flask. +Their volubility drowned every other noise in +the place, and the overheated store sounded of +their spirited language as it reeked of pipe +smoke, damp woolens, and kerosene. + + Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carry- +ing a wooden box with a brass handle. "Come," +he said, "I've fed and watered your team, and +the wagon is ready." He carried Emil out and +tucked him down in the straw in the wagon- +box. The heat had made the little boy sleepy, +but he still clung to his kitten. + + "You were awful good to climb so high and +get my kitten, Carl. When I get big I'll climb +and get little boys' kittens for them," he mur- +mured drowsily. Before the horses were over +the first hill, Emil and his cat were both fast +asleep. + + Although it was only four o'clock, the winter +day was fading. The road led southwest, toward +the streak of pale, watery light that glimmered +in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two +sad young faces that were turned mutely toward +it: upon the eyes of the girl, who seemed to be +looking with such anguished perplexity into +the future; upon the sombre eyes of the boy, +who seemed already to be looking into the past. +The little town behind them had vanished as if +it had never been, had fallen behind the swell +of the prairie, and the stern frozen country +received them into its bosom. The homesteads +were few and far apart; here and there a wind- +mill gaunt against the sky, a sod house crouch- +ing in a hollow. But the great fact was the land +itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little +beginnings of human society that struggled in +its sombre wastes. It was from facing this vast +hardness that the boy's mouth had become so +bitter; because he felt that men were too weak +to make any mark here, that the land wanted +to be let alone, to preserve its own fierce +strength, its peculiar, savage kind of beauty, +its uninterrupted mournfulness. + + The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. +The two friends had less to say to each other +than usual, as if the cold had somehow pene- +trated to their hearts. + + "Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut +wood to-day?" Carl asked. + + "Yes. I'm almost sorry I let them go, it's +turned so cold. But mother frets if the wood +gets low." She stopped and put her hand to +her forehead, brushing back her hair. "I don't +know what is to become of us, Carl, if father +has to die. I don't dare to think about it. I +wish we could all go with him and let the grass +grow back over everything." + + Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was +the Norwegian graveyard, where the grass had, +indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy +and red, hiding even the wire fence. Carl real- +ized that he was not a very helpful companion, +but there was nothing he could say. + + "Of course," Alexandra went on, steadying +her voice a little, "the boys are strong and work +hard, but we've always depended so on father +that I don't see how we can go ahead. I almost +feel as if there were nothing to go ahead for." + + "Does your father know?" + + "Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts +on his fingers all day. I think he is trying to +count up what he is leaving for us. It's a com- +fort to him that my chickens are laying right +on through the cold weather and bringing in a +little money. I wish we could keep his mind off +such things, but I don't have much time to be +with him now." + + "I wonder if he'd like to have me bring my +magic lantern over some evening?" + + Alexandra turned her face toward him. "Oh, +Carl! Have you got it?" + + "Yes. It's back there in the straw. Didn't +you notice the box I was carrying? I tried it all +morning in the drug-store cellar, and it worked +ever so well, makes fine big pictures." + + "What are they about?" + + "Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and +Robinson Crusoe and funny pictures about +cannibals. I'm going to paint some slides for +it on glass, out of the Hans Andersen book." + + Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is +often a good deal of the child left in people who +have had to grow up too soon. "Do bring it +over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I'm +sure it will please father. Are the pictures col- +ored? Then I know he'll like them. He likes +the calendars I get him in town. I wish I could +get more. You must leave me here, mustn't +you? It's been nice to have company." + + Carl stopped the horses and looked dubi- +ously up at the black sky. "It's pretty dark. +Of course the horses will take you home, but I +think I'd better light your lantern, in case you +should need it." + + He gave her the reins and climbed back into +the wagon-box, where he crouched down and +made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen +trials he succeeded in lighting the lantern, which +he placed in front of Alexandra, half covering +it with a blanket so that the light would not +shine in her eyes. "Now, wait until I find my +box. Yes, here it is. Good-night, Alexandra. +Try not to worry." Carl sprang to the ground +and ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum +homestead. "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!" he called back +as he disappeared over a ridge and dropped +into a sand gully. The wind answered him like +an echo, "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!" Alexandra +drove off alone. The rattle of her wagon was +lost in the howling of the wind, but her lantern, +held firmly between her feet, made a moving +point of light along the highway, going deeper +and deeper into the dark country. + + + + II + + + On one of the ridges of that wintry waste +stood the low log house in which John Bergson +was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier +to find than many another, because it over- +looked Norway Creek, a shallow, muddy stream +that sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood +still, at the bottom of a winding ravine with +steep, shelving sides overgrown with brush and +cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This creek gave a +sort of identity to the farms that bordered upon +it. Of all the bewildering things about a new +country, the absence of human landmarks is +one of the most depressing and disheartening. +The houses on the Divide were small and were +usually tucked away in low places; you did not +see them until you came directly upon them. +Most of them were built of the sod itself, and +were only the unescapable ground in another +form. The roads were but faint tracks in the +grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. +The record of the plow was insignificant, like +the feeble scratches on stone left by prehistoric +races, so indeterminate that they may, after all, +be only the markings of glaciers, and not a rec- +ord of human strivings. + + In eleven long years John Bergson had made +but little impression upon the wild land he had +come to tame. It was still a wild thing that had +its ugly moods; and no one knew when they +were likely to come, or why. Mischance hung +over it. Its Genius was unfriendly to man. The +sick man was feeling this as he lay looking out +of the window, after the doctor had left him, +on the day following Alexandra's trip to town. +There it lay outside his door, the same land, the +same lead-colored miles. He knew every ridge +and draw and gully between him and the +horizon. To the south, his plowed fields; to the +east, the sod stables, the cattle corral, the pond, +--and then the grass. + + Bergson went over in his mind the things +that had held him back. One winter his cattle +had perished in a blizzard. The next summer +one of his plow horses broke its leg in a prairie- +dog hole and had to be shot. Another summer he +lost his hogs from cholera, and a valuable +stallion died from a rattlesnake bite. Time and +again his crops had failed. He had lost two +children, boys, that came between Lou and +Emil, and there had been the cost of sickness +and death. Now, when he had at last struggled +out of debt, he was going to die himself. He +was only forty-six, and had, of course, counted +upon more time. + + Bergson had spent his first five years on the +Divide getting into debt, and the last six getting +out. He had paid off his mortgages and had +ended pretty much where he began, with the +land. He owned exactly six hundred and forty +acres of what stretched outside his door; his own +original homestead and timber claim, making +three hundred and twenty acres, and the half- +section adjoining, the homestead of a younger +brother who had given up the fight, gone back +to Chicago to work in a fancy bakery and dis- +tinguish himself in a Swedish athletic club. So +far John had not attempted to cultivate the +second half-section, but used it for pasture +land, and one of his sons rode herd there in +open weather. + + John Bergson had the Old-World belief that +land, in itself, is desirable. But this land was +an enigma. It was like a horse that no one +knows how to break to harness, that runs wild +and kicks things to pieces. He had an idea that +no one understood how to farm it properly, and +this he often discussed with Alexandra. Their +neighbors, certainly, knew even less about +farming than he did. Many of them had +never worked on a farm until they took up +their homesteads. They had been HANDWERKERS +at home; tailors, locksmiths, joiners, cigar- +makers, etc. Bergson himself had worked in a +shipyard. + + For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking +about these things. His bed stood in the sitting- +room, next to the kitchen. Through the day, +while the baking and washing and ironing were +going on, the father lay and looked up at the +roof beams that he himself had hewn, or out at +the cattle in the corral. He counted the cattle +over and over. It diverted him to speculate as +to how much weight each of the steers would +probably put on by spring. He often called his +daughter in to talk to her about this. Before +Alexandra was twelve years old she had begun +to be a help to him, and as she grew older he +had come to depend more and more upon her +resourcefulness and good judgment. His boys +were willing enough to work, but when he +talked with them they usually irritated him. It +was Alexandra who read the papers and fol- +lowed the markets, and who learned by the mis- +takes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who +could always tell about what it had cost to fat- +ten each steer, and who could guess the weight +of a hog before it went on the scales closer than +John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar were in- +dustrious, but he could never teach them to use +their heads about their work. + + Alexandra, her father often said to himself, +was like her grandfather; which was his way of +saying that she was intelligent. John Bergson's +father had been a shipbuilder, a man of consid- +erable force and of some fortune. Late in life he +married a second time, a Stockholm woman of +questionable character, much younger than he, +who goaded him into every sort of extrava- +gance. On the shipbuilder's part, this marriage +was an infatuation, the despairing folly of a +powerful man who cannot bear to grow old. +In a few years his unprincipled wife warped the +probity of a lifetime. He speculated, lost his +own fortune and funds entrusted to him by +poor seafaring men, and died disgraced, leav- +ing his children nothing. But when all was said, +he had come up from the sea himself, had built +up a proud little business with no capital but his +own skill and foresight, and had proved himself +a man. In his daughter, John Bergson recog- +nized the strength of will, and the simple direct +way of thinking things out, that had charac- +terized his father in his better days. He would +much rather, of course, have seen this likeness +in one of his sons, but it was not a question of +choice. As he lay there day after day he had to +accept the situation as it was, and to be thank- +ful that there was one among his children to +whom he could entrust the future of his family +and the possibilities of his hard-won land. + + The winter twilight was fading. The sick +man heard his wife strike a match in the kitchen, +and the light of a lamp glimmered through the +cracks of the door. It seemed like a light shin- +ing far away. He turned painfully in his bed +and looked at his white hands, with all the +work gone out of them. He was ready to give +up, he felt. He did not know how it had come +about, but he was quite willing to go deep un- +der his fields and rest, where the plow could not +find him. He was tired of making mistakes. He +was content to leave the tangle to other hands; +he thought of his Alexandra's strong ones. + + "DOTTER," he called feebly, "DOTTER!" He +heard her quick step and saw her tall figure +appear in the doorway, with the light of the +lamp behind her. He felt her youth and +strength, how easily she moved and stooped +and lifted. But he would not have had it again +if he could, not he! He knew the end too well to +wish to begin again. He knew where it all went +to, what it all became. + + His daughter came and lifted him up on his +pillows. She called him by an old Swedish name +that she used to call him when she was little +and took his dinner to him in the shipyard. + + "Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I +want to speak to them." + + "They are feeding the horses, father. They +have just come back from the Blue. Shall I +call them?" + + He sighed. "No, no. Wait until they come +in. Alexandra, you will have to do the best you +can for your brothers. Everything will come on +you." + + "I will do all I can, father." + + "Don't let them get discouraged and go off +like Uncle Otto. I want them to keep the land." + + "We will, father. We will never lose the +land." + + There was a sound of heavy feet in the +kitchen. Alexandra went to the door and beck- +oned to her brothers, two strapping boys of +seventeen and nineteen. They came in and +stood at the foot of the bed. Their father looked +at them searchingly, though it was too dark to +see their faces; they were just the same boys, he +told himself, he had not been mistaken in them. +The square head and heavy shoulders belonged +to Oscar, the elder. The younger boy was +quicker, but vacillating. + + "Boys," said the father wearily, "I want you +to keep the land together and to be guided by +your sister. I have talked to her since I have +been sick, and she knows all my wishes. I +want no quarrels among my children, and so +long as there is one house there must be one +head. Alexandra is the oldest, and she knows +my wishes. She will do the best she can. If she +makes mistakes, she will not make so many as +I have made. When you marry, and want a +house of your own, the land will be divided +fairly, according to the courts. But for the next +few years you will have it hard, and you must +all keep together. Alexandra will manage the +best she can." + + Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, +replied because he was the older, "Yes, father. +It would be so anyway, without your speaking. +We will all work the place together." + + "And you will be guided by your sister, boys, +and be good brothers to her, and good sons to +your mother? That is good. And Alexandra +must not work in the fields any more. There is +no necessity now. Hire a man when you need +help. She can make much more with her eggs +and butter than the wages of a man. It was +one of my mistakes that I did not find that out +sooner. Try to break a little more land every +year; sod corn is good for fodder. Keep turning +the land, and always put up more hay than you +need. Don't grudge your mother a little time +for plowing her garden and setting out fruit +trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has +been a good mother to you, and she has always + + When they went back to the kitchen the boys +sat down silently at the table. Throughout the +meal they looked down at their plates and did +not lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, +although they had been working in the cold all +day, and there was a rabbit stewed in gravy for +supper, and prune pies. + + John Bergson had married beneath him, but +he had married a good housewife. Mrs. Berg- +son was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy +and placid like her son, Oscar, but there was +something comfortable about her; perhaps it +was her own love of comfort. For eleven years +she had worthily striven to maintain some sem- +blance of household order amid conditions that +made order very difficult. Habit was very +strong with Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting +efforts to repeat the routine of her old life among +new surroundings had done a great deal to keep +the family from disintegrating morally and get- +ting careless in their ways. The Bergsons had +a log house, for instance, only because Mrs. +Bergson would not live in a sod house. She +missed the fish diet of her own country, and +twice every summer she sent the boys to the +river, twenty miles to the southward, to fish +for channel cat. When the children were little +she used to load them all into the wagon, the +baby in its crib, and go fishing herself. + + Alexandra often said that if her mother were +cast upon a desert island, she would thank God +for her deliverance, make a garden, and find +something to preserve. Preserving was almost +a mania with Mrs. Bergson. Stout as she was, +she roamed the scrubby banks of Norway Creek +looking for fox grapes and goose plums, like a +wild creature in search of prey. She made a yel- +low jam of the insipid ground-cherries that grew +on the prairie, flavoring it with lemon peel; and +she made a sticky dark conserve of garden toma- +toes. She had experimented even with the rank +buffalo-pea, and she could not see a fine bronze +cluster of them without shaking her head and +murmuring, "What a pity!" When there was +nothing more to preserve, she began to pickle. +The amount of sugar she used in these processes +was sometimes a serious drain upon the family +resources. She was a good mother, but she was +glad when her children were old enough not to +be in her way in the kitchen. She had never +quite forgiven John Bergson for bringing her +to the end of the earth; but, now that she was +there, she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct +her old life in so far as that was possible. She +could still take some comfort in the world if +she had bacon in the cave, glass jars on the +shelves, and sheets in the press. She disap- +proved of all her neighbors because of their +slovenly housekeeping, and the women thought +her very proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on +her way to Norway Creek, stopped to see old +Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in the haymow +"for fear Mis' Bergson would catch her bare- +foot." + + + + III + + + One Sunday afternoon in July, six months +after John Bergson's death, Carl was sitting in +the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming +over an illustrated paper, when he heard the +rattle of a wagon along the hill road. Looking +up he recognized the Bergsons' team, with two +seats in the wagon, which meant they were off +for a pleasure excursion. Oscar and Lou, on +the front seat, wore their cloth hats and coats, +never worn except on Sundays, and Emil, on +the second seat with Alexandra, sat proudly in +his new trousers, made from a pair of his +father's, and a pink-striped shirt, with a wide +ruffled collar. Oscar stopped the horses and +waved to Carl, who caught up his hat and ran +through the melon patch to join them. + + "Want to go with us?" Lou called. "We're +going to Crazy Ivar's to buy a hammock." + + "Sure." Carl ran up panting, and clamber- +ing over the wheel sat down beside Emil. "I've +always wanted to see Ivar's pond. They say +it's the biggest in all the country. Aren't you +afraid to go to Ivar's in that new shirt, Emil? +He might want it and take it right off your +back." + + Emil grinned. "I'd be awful scared to go," +he admitted, "if you big boys weren't along to +take care of me. Did you ever hear him howl, +Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the +country howling at night because he is afraid +the Lord will destroy him. Mother thinks he +must have done something awful wicked." + + Lou looked back and winked at Carl. "What +would you do, Emil, if you was out on the +prairie by yourself and seen him coming?" + + Emil stared. "Maybe I could hide in a +badger-hole," he suggested doubtfully. + + "But suppose there wasn't any badger-hole," +Lou persisted. "Would you run?" + + "No, I'd be too scared to run," Emil ad- +mitted mournfully, twisting his fingers. "I +guess I'd sit right down on the ground and say +my prayers." + + The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished +his whip over the broad backs of the horses. + + "He wouldn't hurt you, Emil," said Carl +persuasively. "He came to doctor our mare +when she ate green corn and swelled up most as +big as the water-tank. He petted her just like +you do your cats. I couldn't understand much +he said, for he don't talk any English, but he +kept patting her and groaning as if he had the +pain himself, and saying, 'There now, sister, +that's easier, that's better!'" + + Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled +delightedly and looked up at his sister. + + "I don't think he knows anything at all +about doctoring," said Oscar scornfully. "They +say when horses have distemper he takes the +medicine himself, and then prays over the +horses." + + Alexandra spoke up. "That's what the +Crows said, but he cured their horses, all the +same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. But +if you can get him on a clear day, you can learn +a great deal from him. He understands ani- +mals. Didn't I see him take the horn off the +Berquist's cow when she had torn it loose and +went crazy? She was tearing all over the place, +knocking herself against things. And at last +she ran out on the roof of the old dugout and +her legs went through and there she stuck, bel- +lowing. Ivar came running with his white bag, +and the moment he got to her she was quiet and +let him saw her horn off and daub the place +with tar." + + Emil had been watching his sister, his face +reflecting the sufferings of the cow. "And then +didn't it hurt her any more?" he asked. + + Alexandra patted him. "No, not any more. +And in two days they could use her milk +again." + + The road to Ivar's homestead was a very poor +one. He had settled in the rough country across +the county line, where no one lived but some +Russians,--half a dozen families who dwelt +together in one long house, divided off like +barracks. Ivar had explained his choice by +saying that the fewer neighbors he had, the +fewer temptations. Nevertheless, when one +considered that his chief business was horse- +doctoring, it seemed rather short-sighted of +him to live in the most inaccessible place he +could find. The Bergson wagon lurched along +over the rough hummocks and grass banks, fol- +lowed the bottom of winding draws, or skirted +the margin of wide lagoons, where the golden +coreopsis grew up out of the clear water and +the wild ducks rose with a whirr of wings. + + Lou looked after them helplessly. "I wish +I'd brought my gun, anyway, Alexandra," he +said fretfully. "I could have hidden it under +the straw in the bottom of the wagon." + + "Then we'd have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, +they say he can smell dead birds. And if he +knew, we wouldn't get anything out of him, +not even a hammock. I want to talk to him, +and he won't talk sense if he's angry. It makes +him foolish." + + Lou sniffed. "Whoever heard of him talking +sense, anyhow! I'd rather have ducks for sup- +per than Crazy Ivar's tongue." + + Emil was alarmed. "Oh, but, Lou, you don't +want to make him mad! He might howl!" + + They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the +horses up the crumbling side of a clay bank. +They had left the lagoons and the red grass +behind them. In Crazy Ivar's country the +grass was short and gray, the draws deeper +than they were in the Bergsons' neighborhood, +and the land was all broken up into hillocks +and clay ridges. The wild flowers disappeared, +and only in the bottom of the draws and gullies +grew a few of the very toughest and hardiest: +shoestring, and ironweed, and snow-on-the- +mountain. + + "Look, look, Emil, there's Ivar's big pond!" +Alexandra pointed to a shining sheet of water +that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. +At one end of the pond was an earthen dam, +planted with green willow bushes, and above it +a door and a single window were set into the +hillside. You would not have seen them at all +but for the reflection of the sunlight upon the +four panes of window-glass. And that was all +you saw. Not a shed, not a corral, not a well, +not even a path broken in the curly grass. But +for the piece of rusty stovepipe sticking up +through the sod, you could have walked over +the roof of Ivar's dwelling without dreaming +that you were near a human habitation. Ivar +had lived for three years in the clay bank, with- +out defiling the face of nature any more than the +coyote that had lived there before him had done. + + When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar +was sitting in the doorway of his house, reading +the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly shaped +old man, with a thick, powerful body set on +short bow-legs. His shaggy white hair, falling in +a thick mane about his ruddy cheeks, made him +look older than he was. He was barefoot, but he +wore a clean shirt of unbleached cotton, open at +the neck. He always put on a clean shirt when +Sunday morning came round, though he never +went to church. He had a peculiar religion of +his own and could not get on with any of the +denominations. Often he did not see anybody +from one week's end to another. He kept a +calendar, and every morning he checked off a +day, so that he was never in any doubt as to +which day of the week it was. Ivar hired him- +self out in threshing and corn-husking time, +and he doctored sick animals when he was sent +for. When he was at home, he made ham- +mocks out of twine and committed chapters +of the Bible to memory. + + Ivar found contentment in the solitude he +had sought out for himself. He disliked the +litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the +bits of broken china, the old wash-boilers and +tea-kettles thrown into the sunflower patch. +He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of the +wild sod. He always said that the badgers had +cleaner houses than people, and that when he +took a housekeeper her name would be Mrs. +Badger. He best expressed his preference for +his wild homestead by saying that his Bible +seemed truer to him there. If one stood in the +doorway of his cave, and looked off at the rough +land, the smiling sky, the curly grass white in +the hot sunlight; if one listened to the rapturous +song of the lark, the drumming of the quail, the +burr of the locust against that vast silence, one +understood what Ivar meant. + + On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with +happiness. He closed the book on his knee, +keeping the place with his horny finger, and +He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run + among the hills; +They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild + asses quench their thirst. +The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of + Lebanon which he hath planted; +Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the + fir trees are her house. +The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the + rocks for the conies. +repeated softly:-- + + Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard +the Bergsons' wagon approaching, and he +sprang up and ran toward it. + + "No guns, no guns!" he shouted, waving his +arms distractedly. + + "No, Ivar, no guns," Alexandra called reas- +suringly. + + He dropped his arms and went up to the +wagon, smiling amiably and looking at them +out of his pale blue eyes. + + "We want to buy a hammock, if you have +one," Alexandra explained, "and my little +brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where +so many birds come." + + Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the +horses' noses and feeling about their mouths +behind the bits. "Not many birds just now. +A few ducks this morning; and some snipe +come to drink. But there was a crane last week. +She spent one night and came back the next +evening. I don't know why. It is not her sea- +son, of course. Many of them go over in the +fall. Then the pond is full of strange voices +every night." + + Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked +thoughtful. "Ask him, Alexandra, if it is true +that a sea gull came here once. I have heard so." + + She had some difficulty in making the old +man understand. + + He looked puzzled at first, then smote his +hands together as he remembered. "Oh, yes, +yes! A big white bird with long wings and pink +feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in +the afternoon and kept flying about the pond +and screaming until dark. She was in trouble +of some sort, but I could not understand her. +She was going over to the other ocean, maybe, +and did not know how far it was. She was +afraid of never getting there. She was more +mournful than our birds here; she cried in the +night. She saw the light from my window and +darted up to it. Maybe she thought my house +was a boat, she was such a wild thing. Next +morning, when the sun rose, I went out to take +her food, but she flew up into the sky and went +on her way." Ivar ran his fingers through his +thick hair. "I have many strange birds stop +with me here. They come from very far away +and are great company. I hope you boys never +shoot wild birds?" + + Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his +bushy head. "Yes, I know boys are thoughtless. +But these wild things are God's birds. He +watches over them and counts them, as we do +our cattle; Christ says so in the New Testa- +ment." + + "Now, Ivar," Lou asked, "may we water +our horses at your pond and give them some +feed? It's a bad road to your place." + + "Yes, yes, it is." The old man scrambled +about and began to loose the tugs. "A bad +road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at +home!" + + Oscar brushed the old man aside. "We'll +take care of the horses, Ivar. You'll be finding +some disease on them. Alexandra wants to see +your hammocks." + + Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little +cave house. He had but one room, neatly plas- +tered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden +floor. There was a kitchen stove, a table cov- +ered with oilcloth, two chairs, a clock, a calen- +dar, a few books on the window-shelf; nothing +more. But the place was as clean as a cup- +board. + + "But where do you sleep, Ivar?" Emil asked, +looking about. + + Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the +wall; in it was rolled a buffalo robe. "There, +my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in +winter I wrap up in this skin. Where I go to +work, the beds are not half so easy as this." + + By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. +He thought a cave a very superior kind of +house. There was something pleasantly unusual +about it and about Ivar. "Do the birds know +you will be kind to them, Ivar? Is that why so +many come?" he asked. + + Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his +feet under him. "See, little brother, they have +come from a long way, and they are very tired. +From up there where they are flying, our coun- +try looks dark and flat. They must have water +to drink and to bathe in before they can go on +with their journey. They look this way and +that, and far below them they see something +shining, like a piece of glass set in the dark +earth. That is my pond. They come to it and +are not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a little +corn. They tell the other birds, and next year +more come this way. They have their roads up +there, as we have down here." + + Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. "And +is that true, Ivar, about the head ducks falling +back when they are tired, and the hind ones +taking their place?" + + "Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst +of it; they cut the wind. They can only stand +it there a little while--half an hour, maybe. +Then they fall back and the wedge splits a little, +while the rear ones come up the middle to the +front. Then it closes up and they fly on, with a +new edge. They are always changing like +that, up in the air. Never any confusion; just +like soldiers who have been drilled." + + Alexandra had selected her hammock by the +time the boys came up from the pond. They +would not come in, but sat in the shade of the +bank outside while Alexandra and Ivar talked +about the birds and about his housekeeping, +and why he never ate meat, fresh or salt. + + Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden +chairs, her arms resting on the table. Ivar was +sitting on the floor at her feet. "Ivar," she said +suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the +oilcloth with her forefinger, "I came to-day +more because I wanted to talk to you than be- +cause I wanted to buy a hammock." + + "Yes?" The old man scraped his bare feet +on the plank floor. + + "We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I +wouldn't sell in the spring, when everybody +advised me to, and now so many people are +losing their hogs that I am frightened. What +can be done?" + + Ivar's little eyes began to shine. They lost +their vagueness. + + "You feed them swill and such stuff? Of +course! And sour milk? Oh, yes! And keep +them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, the +hogs of this country are put upon! They be- +come unclean, like the hogs in the Bible. If you +kept your chickens like that, what would hap- +pen? You have a little sorghum patch, maybe? +Put a fence around it, and turn the hogs in. +Build a shed to give them shade, a thatch on +poles. Let the boys haul water to them in bar- +rels, clean water, and plenty. Get them off the +old stinking ground, and do not let them go +back there until winter. Give them only grain +and clean feed, such as you would give horses +or cattle. Hogs do not like to be filthy." + + The boys outside the door had been listening. +Lou nudged his brother. "Come, the horses +are done eating. Let's hitch up and get out of +here. He'll fill her full of notions. She'll be for +having the pigs sleep with us, next." + + Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could +not understand what Ivar said, saw that the +two boys were displeased. They did not mind +hard work, but they hated experiments and +could never see the use of taking pains. Even +Lou, who was more elastic than his older bro- +ther, disliked to do anything different from +their neighbors. He felt that it made them +conspicuous and gave people a chance to talk +about them. + + Once they were on the homeward road, the +boys forgot their ill-humor and joked about +Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose +any reforms in the care of the pigs, and they +hoped she had forgotten Ivar's talk. They +agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would +never be able to prove up on his land because +he worked it so little. Alexandra privately +resolved that she would have a talk with Ivar +about this and stir him up. The boys persuaded +Carl to stay for supper and go swimming in the +pasture pond after dark. + + That evening, after she had washed the sup- +per dishes, Alexandra sat down on the kitchen +doorstep, while her mother was mixing the +bread. It was a still, deep-breathing summer +night, full of the smell of the hay fields. Sounds +of laughter and splashing came up from the +pasture, and when the moon rose rapidly above +the bare rim of the prairie, the pond glittered +like polished metal, and she could see the flash +of white bodies as the boys ran about the edge, +or jumped into the water. Alexandra watched +the shimmering pool dreamily, but eventually +her eyes went back to the sorghum patch south +of the barn, where she was planning to make her +new pig corral. + + + + IV + + + For the first three years after John Bergson's +death, the affairs of his family prospered. Then +came the hard times that brought every one on +the Divide to the brink of despair; three years +of drouth and failure, the last struggle of a wild +soil against the encroaching plowshare. The +first of these fruitless summers the Bergson boys +bore courageously. The failure of the corn +crop made labor cheap. Lou and Oscar hired +two men and put in bigger crops than ever +before. They lost everything they spent. The +whole country was discouraged. Farmers who +were already in debt had to give up their +land. A few foreclosures demoralized the +county. The settlers sat about on the wooden +sidewalks in the little town and told each other +that the country was never meant for men to +live in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, +to Illinois, to any place that had been proved +habitable. The Bergson boys, certainly, would +have been happier with their uncle Otto, in the +bakery shop in Chicago. Like most of their +neighbors, they were meant to follow in paths +already marked out for them, not to break +trails in a new country. A steady job, a few +holidays, nothing to think about, and they +would have been very happy. It was no fault +of theirs that they had been dragged into the +wilderness when they were little boys. A +pioneer should have imagination, should be +able to enjoy the idea of things more than the +things themselves. + + The second of these barren summers was +passing. One September afternoon Alexandra +had gone over to the garden across the draw to +dig sweet potatoes--they had been thriving +upon the weather that was fatal to everything +else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the +garden rows to find her, she was not working. +She was standing lost in thought, leaning upon +her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying beside her +on the ground. The dry garden patch smelled +of drying vines and was strewn with yellow +seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and citrons. +At one end, next the rhubarb, grew feathery +asparagus, with red berries. Down the middle +of the garden was a row of gooseberry and cur- +rant bushes. A few tough zenias and marigolds +and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the +buckets of water that Mrs. Bergson had carried +there after sundown, against the prohibition of +her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the +garden path, looking intently at Alexandra. +She did not hear him. She was standing per- +fectly still, with that serious ease so character- +istic of her. Her thick, reddish braids, twisted +about her head, fairly burned in the sunlight. +The air was cool enough to make the warm sun +pleasant on one's back and shoulders, and so +clear that the eye could follow a hawk up and +up, into the blazing blue depths of the sky. +Even Carl, never a very cheerful boy, and con- +siderably darkened by these last two bitter +years, loved the country on days like this, felt +something strong and young and wild come out +of it, that laughed at care. + + "Alexandra," he said as he approached her, +"I want to talk to you. Let's sit down by the +gooseberry bushes." He picked up her sack of +potatoes and they crossed the garden. "Boys +gone to town?" he asked as he sank down on +the warm, sun-baked earth. "Well, we have +made up our minds at last, Alexandra. We are +really going away." + + She looked at him as if she were a little fright- +ened. "Really, Carl? Is it settled?" + + "Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and +they will give him back his old job in the cigar +factory. He must be there by the first of +November. They are taking on new men then. +We will sell the place for whatever we can get, +and auction the stock. We haven't enough to +ship. I am going to learn engraving with a +German engraver there, and then try to get +work in Chicago." + + Alexandra's hands dropped in her lap. Her +eyes became dreamy and filled with tears. + + Carl's sensitive lower lip trembled. He +scratched in the soft earth beside him with a +stick. "That's all I hate about it, Alexandra," +he said slowly. "You've stood by us through +so much and helped father out so many times, +and now it seems as if we were running off and +leaving you to face the worst of it. But it isn't +as if we could really ever be of any help to you. +We are only one more drag, one more thing you +look out for and feel responsible for. Father +was never meant for a farmer, you know that. +And I hate it. We'd only get in deeper and +deeper." + + "Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting +your life here. You are able to do much better +things. You are nearly nineteen now, and I +wouldn't have you stay. I've always hoped +you would get away. But I can't help feeling +scared when I think how I will miss you-- +more than you will ever know." She brushed +the tears from her cheeks, not trying to hide +them. + + "But, Alexandra," he said sadly and wist- +fully, "I've never been any real help to you, +beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in a +good humor." + + Alexandra smiled and shook her head. "Oh, +it's not that. Nothing like that. It's by under- +standing me, and the boys, and mother, that +you've helped me. I expect that is the only +way one person ever really can help another. +I think you are about the only one that ever +helped me. Somehow it will take more courage +to bear your going than everything that has +happened before." + + Carl looked at the ground. "You see, we've +all depended so on you," he said, "even father. +He makes me laugh. When anything comes up +he always says, 'I wonder what the Bergsons are +going to do about that? I guess I'll go and ask +her.' I'll never forget that time, when we first +came here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran +over to your place--your father was away, +and you came home with me and showed father +how to let the wind out of the horse. You were +only a little girl then, but you knew ever so +much more about farm work than poor father. +You remember how homesick I used to get, +and what long talks we used to have coming +from school? We've someway always felt alike +about things." + + "Yes, that's it; we've liked the same things +and we've liked them together, without any- +body else knowing. And we've had good times, +hunting for Christmas trees and going for ducks +and making our plum wine together every year. +We've never either of us had any other close +friend. And now--" Alexandra wiped her +eyes with the corner of her apron, "and now I +must remember that you are going where you +will have many friends, and will find the work +you were meant to do. But you'll write to me, +Carl? That will mean a great deal to me here." + + "I'll write as long as I live," cried the boy +impetuously. "And I'll be working for you as +much as for myself, Alexandra. I want to do +something you'll like and be proud of. I'm a +fool here, but I know I can do something!" He +sat up and frowned at the red grass. + + Alexandra sighed. "How discouraged the +boys will be when they hear. They always +come home from town discouraged, anyway. +So many people are trying to leave the country, +and they talk to our boys and make them low- +spirited. I'm afraid they are beginning to feel +hard toward me because I won't listen to any +talk about going. Sometimes I feel like I'm +getting tired of standing up for this country." + + "I won't tell the boys yet, if you'd rather +not." + + "Oh, I'll tell them myself, to-night, when +they come home. They'll be talking wild, any- +way, and no good comes of keeping bad news. +It's all harder on them than it is on me. Lou +wants to get married, poor boy, and he can't +until times are better. See, there goes the sun, +Carl. I must be getting back. Mother will want +her potatoes. It's chilly already, the moment +the light goes." + + Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden +afterglow throbbed in the west, but the coun- +try already looked empty and mournful. A +dark moving mass came over the western hill, +the Lee boy was bringing in the herd from the +other half-section. Emil ran from the windmill +to open the corral gate. From the log house, on +the little rise across the draw, the smoke was +curling. The cattle lowed and bellowed. In +the sky the pale half-moon was slowly silvering. +Alexandra and Carl walked together down the +potato rows. "I have to keep telling myself +what is going to happen," she said softly. +"Since you have been here, ten years now, I +have never really been lonely. But I can +remember what it was like before. Now I shall +have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and +he is tender-hearted." + + That night, when the boys were called to +supper, they sat down moodily. They had +worn their coats to town, but they ate in their +striped shirts and suspenders. They were grown +men now, and, as Alexandra said, for the last +few years they had been growing more and +more like themselves. Lou was still the slighter +of the two, the quicker and more intelligent, but +apt to go off at half-cock. He had a lively blue +eye, a thin, fair skin (always burned red to the +neckband of his shirt in summer), stiff, yellow +hair that would not lie down on his head, and a +bristly little yellow mustache, of which he +was very proud. Oscar could not grow a mus- +tache; his pale face was as bare as an egg, and +his white eyebrows gave it an empty look. He +was a man of powerful body and unusual endur- +ance; the sort of man you could attach to a +corn-sheller as you would an engine. He would +turn it all day, without hurrying, without slow- +ing down. But he was as indolent of mind as +he was unsparing of his body. His love of +routine amounted to a vice. He worked like an +insect, always doing the same thing over in the +same way, regardless of whether it was best or +no. He felt that there was a sovereign virtue +in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to do +things in the hardest way. If a field had once +been in corn, he couldn't bear to put it into +wheat. He liked to begin his corn-planting at +the same time every year, whether the season +were backward or forward. He seemed to feel +that by his own irreproachable regularity he +would clear himself of blame and reprove the +weather. When the wheat crop failed, he +threshed the straw at a dead loss to demon- +strate how little grain there was, and thus +prove his case against Providence. + + Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and +flighty; always planned to get through two +days' work in one, and often got only the least +important things done. He liked to keep the +place up, but he never got round to doing odd +jobs until he had to neglect more pressing work +to attend to them. In the middle of the wheat +harvest, when the grain was over-ripe and every +hand was needed, he would stop to mend fences +or to patch the harness; then dash down to the +field and overwork and be laid up in bed for a +week. The two boys balanced each other, and +they pulled well together. They had been good +friends since they were children. One seldom +went anywhere, even to town, without the other. + + To-night, after they sat down to supper, +Oscar kept looking at Lou as if he expected him +to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes and +frowned at his plate. It was Alexandra herself +who at last opened the discussion. + + "The Linstrums," she said calmly, as she +put another plate of hot biscuit on the table, +"are going back to St. Louis. The old man is +going to work in the cigar factory again." + + At this Lou plunged in. "You see, Alex- +andra, everybody who can crawl out is going +away. There's no use of us trying to stick it +out, just to be stubborn. There's something in +knowing when to quit." + + "Where do you want to go, Lou?" + + "Any place where things will grow." said +Oscar grimly. + + Lou reached for a potato. "Chris Arnson has +traded his half-section for a place down on the +river." + + "Who did he trade with?" + + "Charley Fuller, in town." + + "Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, +that Fuller has a head on him. He's buy- +ing and trading for every bit of land he can +get up here. It'll make him a rich man, some +day." + + "He's rich now, that's why he can take a +chance." + + "Why can't we? We'll live longer than he +will. Some day the land itself will be worth +more than all we can ever raise on it." + + Lou laughed. "It could be worth that, and +still not be worth much. Why, Alexandra, you +don't know what you're talking about. Our +place wouldn't bring now what it would six +years ago. The fellows that settled up here just +made a mistake. Now they're beginning to see +this high land wasn't never meant to grow no- +thing on, and everybody who ain't fixed to graze +cattle is trying to crawl out. It's too high to +farm up here. All the Americans are skinning +out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, +told me that he was going to let Fuller take his +land and stuff for four hundred dollars and a +ticket to Chicago." + + "There's Fuller again!" Alexandra ex- +claimed. "I wish that man would take me for a +partner. He's feathering his nest! If only poor +people could learn a little from rich people! +But all these fellows who are running off are +bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. They +couldn't get ahead even in good years, and they +all got into debt while father was getting out. +I think we ought to hold on as long as we can on +father's account. He was so set on keeping this +land. He must have seen harder times than this, +here. How was it in the early days, mother?" + + Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These +family discussions always depressed her, and +made her remember all that she had been torn +away from. "I don't see why the boys are +always taking on about going away," she said, +wiping her eyes. "I don't want to move again; +out to some raw place, maybe, where we'd be +worse off than we are here, and all to do over +again. I won't move! If the rest of you go, I +will ask some of the neighbors to take me in, +and stay and be buried by father. I'm not +going to leave him by himself on the prairie, +for cattle to run over." She began to cry more +bitterly. + + The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a +soothing hand on her mother's shoulder. +"There's no question of that, mother. You +don't have to go if you don't want to. A third +of the place belongs to you by American law, +and we can't sell without your consent. We only +want you to advise us. How did it use to be +when you and father first came? Was it really +as bad as this, or not?" + + "Oh, worse! Much worse," moaned Mrs. +Bergson. "Drouth, chince-bugs, hail, every- +thing! My garden all cut to pieces like sauer- +kraut. No grapes on the creek, no nothing. +The people all lived just like coyotes." + + Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. +Lou followed him. They felt that Alexandra +had taken an unfair advantage in turning their +mother loose on them. The next morning they +were silent and reserved. They did not offer +to take the women to church, but went down +to the barn immediately after breakfast and +stayed there all day. When Carl Linstrum came +over in the afternoon, Alexandra winked to +him and pointed toward the barn. He under- +stood her and went down to play cards with the +boys. They believed that a very wicked thing +to do on Sunday, and it relieved their feelings. + + Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday +afternoon Mrs. Bergson always took a nap, and +Alexandra read. During the week she read only +the newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long +evenings of winter, she read a good deal; read +a few things over a great many times. She knew +long portions of the "Frithjof Saga" by heart, +and, like most Swedes who read at all, she was +fond of Longfellow's verse,--the ballads and +the "Golden Legend" and "The Spanish Stu- +dent." To-day she sat in the wooden rocking- +chair with the Swedish Bible open on her knees, +but she was not reading. She was looking +thoughtfully away at the point where the up- +land road disappeared over the rim of the +prairie. Her body was in an attitude of perfect +repose, such as it was apt to take when she was +thinking earnestly. Her mind was slow, truth- +ful, steadfast. She had not the least spark of +cleverness. + + All afternoon the sitting-room was full of +quiet and sunlight. Emil was making rabbit +traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were cluck- +ing and scratching brown holes in the flower +beds, and the wind was teasing the prince's +feather by the door. + + That evening Carl came in with the boys to +supper. + + "Emil," said Alexandra, when they were all +seated at the table, "how would you like to go +traveling? Because I am going to take a trip, +and you can go with me if you want to." + + The boys looked up in amazement; they were +always afraid of Alexandra's schemes. Carl +was interested. + + "I've been thinking, boys," she went on, +"that maybe I am too set against making a +change. I'm going to take Brigham and the +buckboard to-morrow and drive down to +the river country and spend a few days looking +over what they've got down there. If I find +anything good, you boys can go down and make +a trade." + + "Nobody down there will trade for anything +up here," said Oscar gloomily. + + "That's just what I want to find out. Maybe +they are just as discontented down there as we +are up here. Things away from home often look +better than they are. You know what your +Hans Andersen book says, Carl, about the +Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and the +Danes liking to buy Swedish bread, because +people always think the bread of another +country is better than their own. Anyway, +I've heard so much about the river farms, I +won't be satisfied till I've seen for myself." + + Lou fidgeted. "Look out! Don't agree to +anything. Don't let them fool you." + + Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not +yet learned to keep away from the shell-game +wagons that followed the circus. + + After supper Lou put on a necktie and went +across the fields to court Annie Lee, and Carl +and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, while +Alexandra read "The Swiss Family Robinson" +aloud to her mother and Emil. It was not long +before the two boys at the table neglected their +game to listen. They were all big children +together, and they found the adventures of the +family in the tree house so absorbing that they +gave them their undivided attention. + + + + V + + + Alexandra and Emil spent five days down +among the river farms, driving up and down +the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about +their crops and to the women about their poul- +try. She spent a whole day with one young +farmer who had been away at school, and who +was experimenting with a new kind of clover +hay. She learned a great deal. As they drove +along, she and Emil talked and planned. At +last, on the sixth day, Alexandra turned Brig- +ham's head northward and left the river behind. + + "There's nothing in it for us down there, +Emil. There are a few fine farms, but they are +owned by the rich men in town, and couldn't be +bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. +They can always scrape along down there, but +they can never do anything big. Down there +they have a little certainty, but up with us +there is a big chance. We must have faith in +the high land, Emil. I want to hold on harder +than ever, and when you're a man you'll thank +me." She urged Brigham forward. + + When the road began to climb the first long +swells of the Divide, Alexandra hummed an old +Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his +sister looked so happy. Her face was so radiant +that he felt shy about asking her. For the first +time, perhaps, since that land emerged from +the waters of geologic ages, a human face was +set toward it with love and yearning. It seemed +beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. +Her eyes drank in the breadth of it, until her +tears blinded her. Then the Genius of the +Divide, the great, free spirit which breathes +across it, must have bent lower than it ever +bent to a human will before. The history of +every country begins in the heart of a man or +a woman. + + Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. +That evening she held a family council and told +her brothers all that she had seen and heard. + + "I want you boys to go down yourselves and +look it over. Nothing will convince you like +seeing with your own eyes. The river land was +settled before this, and so they are a few years +ahead of us, and have learned more about farm- +ing. The land sells for three times as much as +this, but in five years we will double it. The +rich men down there own all the best land, and +they are buying all they can get. The thing to +do is to sell our cattle and what little old corn +we have, and buy the Linstrum place. Then +the next thing to do is to take out two loans on +our half-sections, and buy Peter Crow's place; +raise every dollar we can, and buy every acre +we can." + + "Mortgage the homestead again?" Lou cried. +He sprang up and began to wind the clock +furiously. "I won't slave to pay off another +mortgage. I'll never do it. You'd just as +soon kill us all, Alexandra, to carry out some +scheme!" + + Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. "How +do you propose to pay off your mortgages?" + + Alexandra looked from one to the other and +bit her lip. They had never seen her so ner- +vous. "See here," she brought out at last. +"We borrow the money for six years. Well, +with the money we buy a half-section from +Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter +from Struble, maybe. That will give us up- +wards of fourteen hundred acres, won't it? +You won't have to pay off your mortgages for +six years. By that time, any of this land will be +worth thirty dollars an acre--it will be worth +fifty, but we'll say thirty; then you can sell a +garden patch anywhere, and pay off a debt of +sixteen hundred dollars. It's not the principal +I'm worried about, it's the interest and taxes. +We'll have to strain to meet the payments. But +as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can +sit down here ten years from now independent +landowners, not struggling farmers any longer. +The chance that father was always looking for +has come." + + Lou was pacing the floor. "But how do you +KNOW that land is going to go up enough to pay +the mortgages and--" + + "And make us rich besides?" Alexandra put +in firmly. "I can't explain that, Lou. You'll +have to take my word for it. I KNOW, that's all. +When you drive about over the country you +can feel it coming." + + Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, +his hands hanging between his knees. "But we +can't work so much land," he said dully, as if he +were talking to himself. "We can't even try. +It would just lie there and we'd work ourselves +to death." He sighed, and laid his calloused +fist on the table. + + Alexandra's eyes filled with tears. She put +her hand on his shoulder. "You poor boy, you +won't have to work it. The men in town who +are buying up other people's land don't try to +farm it. They are the men to watch, in a new +country. Let's try to do like the shrewd ones, +and not like these stupid fellows. I don't want +you boys always to have to work like this. I +want you to be independent, and Emil to go +to school." + + Lou held his head as if it were splitting. +"Everybody will say we are crazy. It must be +crazy, or everybody would be doing it." + + "If they were, we wouldn't have much +chance. No, Lou, I was talking about that with +the smart young man who is raising the new +kind of clover. He says the right thing is usu- +ally just what everybody don't do. Why are +we better fixed than any of our neighbors? +Because father had more brains. Our people +were better people than these in the old coun- +try. We OUGHT to do more than they do, and see +further ahead. Yes, mother, I'm going to clear +the table now." + + Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable +to see to the stock, and they were gone a long +while. When they came back Lou played on +his DRAGHARMONIKA and Oscar sat figuring at his +father's secretary all evening. They said no- +thing more about Alexandra's project, but she +felt sure now that they would consent to it. +Just before bedtime Oscar went out for a pail of +water. When he did not come back, Alexandra +threw a shawl over her head and ran down the +path to the windmill. She found him sitting +there with his head in his hands, and she sat +down beside him. + + "Don't do anything you don't want to do, +Oscar," she whispered. She waited a moment, +but he did not stir. "I won't say any more +about it, if you'd rather not. What makes you +so discouraged?" + + "I dread signing my name to them pieces of +paper," he said slowly. "All the time I was a +boy we had a mortgage hanging over us." + + "Then don't sign one. I don't want you to, +if you feel that way." + + Oscar shook his head. "No, I can see there's +a chance that way. I've thought a good while +there might be. We're in so deep now, we +might as well go deeper. But it's hard work +pulling out of debt. Like pulling a threshing- +machine out of the mud; breaks your back. Me +and Lou's worked hard, and I can't see it's got +us ahead much." + + "Nobody knows about that as well as I do, +Oscar. That's why I want to try an easier way. +I don't want you to have to grub for every +dollar." + + "Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it'll +come out right. But signing papers is signing +papers. There ain't no maybe about that." +He took his pail and trudged up the path to the +house. + + Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her +and stood leaning against the frame of the mill, +looking at the stars which glittered so keenly +through the frosty autumn air. She always +loved to watch them, to think of their vastness +and distance, and of their ordered march. It +fortified her to reflect upon the great operations +of nature, and when she thought of the law that +lay behind them, she felt a sense of personal +security. That night she had a new conscious- +ness of the country, felt almost a new relation +to it. Even her talk with the boys had not +taken away the feeling that had overwhelmed +her when she drove back to the Divide that +afternoon. She had never known before how +much the country meant to her. The chirping +of the insects down in the long grass had been +like the sweetest music. She had felt as if +her heart were hiding down there, somewhere, +with the quail and the plover and all the lit- +tle wild things that crooned or buzzed in the +sun. Under the long shaggy ridges, she felt the +future stirring. + + + + + + + PART II + + Neighboring Fields + + + + + I + + + IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. +His wife now lies beside him, and the white +shaft that marks their graves gleams across the +wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, +he would not know the country under which he +has been asleep. The shaggy coat of the prairie, +which they lifted to make him a bed, has van- +ished forever. From the Norwegian graveyard +one looks out over a vast checker-board, marked +off in squares of wheat and corn; light and +dark, dark and light. Telephone wires hum +along the white roads, which always run at +right angles. From the graveyard gate one can +count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the +gilded weather-vanes on the big red barns wink +at each other across the green and brown and +yellow fields. The light steel windmills trem- +ble throughout their frames and tug at their +moorings, as they vibrate in the wind that often +blows from one week's end to another across +that high, active, resolute stretch of country. + + The Divide is now thickly populated. The +rich soil yields heavy harvests; the dry, bracing +climate and the smoothness of the land make +labor easy for men and beasts. There are few +scenes more gratifying than a spring plowing +in that country, where the furrows of a single +field often lie a mile in length, and the brown +earth, with such a strong, clean smell, and such +a power of growth and fertility in it, yields itself +eagerly to the plow; rolls away from the shear, +not even dimming the brightness of the metal, +with a soft, deep sigh of happiness. The wheat- +cutting sometimes goes on all night as well as +all day, and in good seasons there are scarcely +men and horses enough to do the harvesting. +The grain is so heavy that it bends toward the +blade and cuts like velvet. + + There is something frank and joyous and +young in the open face of the country. It gives +itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, +holding nothing back. Like the plains of Lom- +bardy, it seems to rise a little to meet the sun. +The air and the earth are curiously mated and +intermingled, as if the one were the breath of +the other. You feel in the atmosphere the same +tonic, puissant quality that is in the tilth, the +same strength and resoluteness. + + One June morning a young man stood at the +gate of the Norwegian graveyard, sharpening +his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to the +tune he was whistling. He wore a flannel cap +and duck trousers, and the sleeves of his white +flannel shirt were rolled back to the elbow. +When he was satisfied with the edge of his +blade, he slipped the whetstone into his hip +pocket and began to swing his scythe, still +whistling, but softly, out of respect to the quiet +folk about him. Unconscious respect, probably, +for he seemed intent upon his own thoughts, +and, like the Gladiator's, they were far away. +He was a splendid figure of a boy, tall and +straight as a young pine tree, with a hand- +some head, and stormy gray eyes, deeply set +under a serious brow. The space between his +two front teeth, which were unusually far +apart, gave him the proficiency in whistling +for which he was distinguished at college. +(He also played the cornet in the University +band.) + + When the grass required his close attention, +or when he had to stoop to cut about a head- +stone, he paused in his lively air,--the "Jewel" +song,--taking it up where he had left it when +his scythe swung free again. He was not think- +ing about the tired pioneers over whom his +blade glittered. The old wild country, the +struggle in which his sister was destined to suc- +ceed while so many men broke their hearts and +died, he can scarcely remember. That is all +among the dim things of childhood and has been +forgotten in the brighter pattern life weaves +to-day, in the bright facts of being captain of +the track team, and holding the interstate +record for the high jump, in the all-suffusing +brightness of being twenty-one. Yet some- +times, in the pauses of his work, the young man +frowned and looked at the ground with an +intentness which suggested that even twenty- +one might have its problems. + + When he had been mowing the better part of +an hour, he heard the rattle of a light cart on +the road behind him. Supposing that it was +his sister coming back from one of her farms, +he kept on with his work. The cart stopped at +the gate and a merry contralto voice called, +"Almost through, Emil?" He dropped his +scythe and went toward the fence, wiping his +face and neck with his handkerchief. In the +cart sat a young woman who wore driving +gauntlets and a wide shade hat, trimmed with +red poppies. Her face, too, was rather like a +poppy, round and brown, with rich color in her +cheeks and lips, and her dancing yellow-brown +eyes bubbled with gayety. The wind was flap- +ping her big hat and teasing a curl of her +chestnut-colored hair. She shook her head at +the tall youth. + + "What time did you get over here? That's +not much of a job for an athlete. Here I've +been to town and back. Alexandra lets you +sleep late. Oh, I know! Lou's wife was telling +me about the way she spoils you. I was going +to give you a lift, if you were done." She gath- +ered up her reins. + + "But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for +me, Marie," Emil coaxed. "Alexandra sent me +to mow our lot, but I've done half a dozen +others, you see. Just wait till I finish off the +Kourdnas'. By the way, they were Bohemians. +Why aren't they up in the Catholic grave- +yard?" + + "Free-thinkers," replied the young woman +laconically. + + "Lots of the Bohemian boys at the Univer- +sity are," said Emil, taking up his scythe again. +"What did you ever burn John Huss for, any- +way? It's made an awful row. They still jaw +about it in history classes." + + "We'd do it right over again, most of us," +said the young woman hotly. "Don't they ever +teach you in your history classes that you'd all +be heathen Turks if it hadn't been for the +Bohemians?" + + Emil had fallen to mowing. "Oh, there's no +denying you're a spunky little bunch, you +Czechs," he called back over his shoulder. + + Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat +and watched the rhythmical movement of the +young man's long arms, swinging her foot as +if in time to some air that was going through +her mind. The minutes passed. Emil mowed +vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and +watching the long grass fall. She sat with the +ease that belongs to persons of an essentially +happy nature, who can find a comfortable spot +almost anywhere; who are supple, and quick in +adapting themselves to circumstances. After a +final swish, Emil snapped the gate and sprang +into the cart, holding his scythe well out over +the wheel. "There," he sighed. "I gave old +man Lee a cut or so, too. Lou's wife needn't +talk. I never see Lou's scythe over here." + + Marie clucked to her horse. "Oh, you know +Annie!" She looked at the young man's bare +arms. "How brown you've got since you came +home. I wish I had an athlete to mow my +orchard. I get wet to my knees when I go +down to pick cherries." + + "You can have one, any time you want him. +Better wait until after it rains." Emil squinted +off at the horizon as if he were looking for clouds. + + "Will you? Oh, there's a good boy!" She +turned her head to him with a quick, bright +smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, +he had looked away with the purpose of not see- +ing it. "I've been up looking at Angelique's +wedding clothes," Marie went on, "and I'm so +excited I can hardly wait until Sunday. Ame- +dee will be a handsome bridegroom. Is any- +body but you going to stand up with him? Well, +then it will be a handsome wedding party." +She made a droll face at Emil, who flushed. +"Frank," Marie continued, flicking her horse, +"is cranky at me because I loaned his saddle +to Jan Smirka, and I'm terribly afraid he won't +take me to the dance in the evening. Maybe +the supper will tempt him. All Angelique's +folks are baking for it, and all Amedee's twenty +cousins. There will be barrels of beer. If once +I get Frank to the supper, I'll see that I stay +for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you +mustn't dance with me but once or twice. You +must dance with all the French girls. It hurts +their feelings if you don't. They think you're +proud because you've been away to school or +something." + + Emil sniffed. "How do you know they think +that?" + + "Well, you didn't dance with them much at +Raoul Marcel's party, and I could tell how they +took it by the way they looked at you--and at +me." + + "All right," said Emil shortly, studying the +glittering blade of his scythe. + + They drove westward toward Norway Creek, +and toward a big white house that stood on a +hill, several miles across the fields. There were +so many sheds and outbuildings grouped about +it that the place looked not unlike a tiny village. +A stranger, approaching it, could not help notic- +ing the beauty and fruitfulness of the outlying +fields. There was something individual about +the great farm, a most unusual trimness and +care for detail. On either side of the road, for a +mile before you reached the foot of the hill, +stood tall osage orange hedges, their glossy +green marking off the yellow fields. South of +the hill, in a low, sheltered swale, surrounded by +a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, its fruit trees +knee-deep in timothy grass. Any one there- +abouts would have told you that this was one +of the richest farms on the Divide, and that +the farmer was a woman, Alexandra Bergson. + + If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra's +big house, you will find that it is curiously +unfinished and uneven in comfort. One room +is papered, carpeted, over-furnished; the next +is almost bare. The pleasantest rooms in the +house are the kitchen--where Alexandra's +three young Swedish girls chatter and cook and +pickle and preserve all summer long--and the +sitting-room, in which Alexandra has brought +together the old homely furniture that the +Bergsons used in their first log house, the fam- +ily portraits, and the few things her mother +brought from Sweden. + + When you go out of the house into the flower +garden, there you feel again the order and fine +arrangement manifest all over the great farm; +in the fencing and hedging, in the windbreaks +and sheds, in the symmetrical pasture ponds, +planted with scrub willows to give shade to the +cattle in fly-time. There is even a white row of +beehives in the orchard, under the walnut trees. +You feel that, properly, Alexandra's house is +the big out-of-doors, and that it is in the soil +that she expresses herself best. + + + + II + + + Emil reached home a little past noon, and +when he went into the kitchen Alexandra was +already seated at the head of the long table, +having dinner with her men, as she always did +unless there were visitors. He slipped into his +empty place at his sister's right. The three +pretty young Swedish girls who did Alexandra's +housework were cutting pies, refilling coffee- +cups, placing platters of bread and meat and +potatoes upon the red tablecloth, and continu- +ally getting in each other's way between the +table and the stove. To be sure they always +wasted a good deal of time getting in each other's +way and giggling at each other's mistakes. But, +as Alexandra had pointedly told her sisters-in- +law, it was to hear them giggle that she kept +three young things in her kitchen; the work she +could do herself, if it were necessary. These +girls, with their long letters from home, their +finery, and their love-affairs, afforded her a +great deal of entertainment, and they were com- +pany for her when Emil was away at school. + + Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty +figure, mottled pink cheeks, and yellow hair, +Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps a +sharp eye upon her. Signa is apt to be skittish +at mealtime, when the men are about, and to +spill the coffee or upset the cream. It is sup- +posed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six men at +the dinner-table, is courting Signa, though he +has been so careful not to commit himself that +no one in the house, least of all Signa, can tell +just how far the matter has progressed. Nelse +watches her glumly as she waits upon the table, +and in the evening he sits on a bench behind the +stove with his DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful +airs and watching her as she goes about her +work. When Alexandra asked Signa whether +she thought Nelse was in earnest, the poor child +hid her hands under her apron and murmured, +"I don't know, ma'm. But he scolds me about +everything, like as if he wanted to have me!" + + At Alexandra's left sat a very old man, bare- +foot and wearing a long blue blouse, open at the +neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter than +it was sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes +have become pale and watery, and his ruddy +face is withered, like an apple that has clung +all winter to the tree. When Ivar lost his land +through mismanagement a dozen years ago, +Alexandra took him in, and he has been a mem- +ber of her household ever since. He is too old to +work in the fields, but he hitches and unhitches +the work-teams and looks after the health +of the stock. Sometimes of a winter evening +Alexandra calls him into the sitting-room to +read the Bible aloud to her, for he still reads +very well. He dislikes human habitations, so +Alexandra has fitted him up a room in the barn, +where he is very comfortable, being near the +horses and, as he says, further from tempta- +tions. No one has ever found out what his +temptations are. In cold weather he sits by the +kitchen fire and makes hammocks or mends +harness until it is time to go to bed. Then he +says his prayers at great length behind the +stove, puts on his buffalo-skin coat and goes +out to his room in the barn. + + Alexandra herself has changed very little. +Her figure is fuller, and she has more color. She +seems sunnier and more vigorous than she did as +a young girl. But she still has the same calmness +and deliberation of manner, the same clear eyes, +and she still wears her hair in two braids wound +round her head. It is so curly that fiery ends +escape from the braids and make her head look +like one of the big double sunflowers that fringe +her vegetable garden. Her face is always tanned +in summer, for her sunbonnet is oftener on her +arm than on her head. But where her collar +falls away from her neck, or where her sleeves +are pushed back from her wrist, the skin is of +such smoothness and whiteness as none but +Swedish women ever possess; skin with the +freshness of the snow itself. + + Alexandra did not talk much at the table, +but she encouraged her men to talk, and she +always listened attentively, even when they +seemed to be talking foolishly. + + To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed +Irishman who had been with Alexandra for five +years and who was actually her foreman, though +he had no such title, was grumbling about the +new silo she had put up that spring. It hap- +pened to be the first silo on the Divide, and +Alexandra's neighbors and her men were skep- +tical about it. "To be sure, if the thing don't +work, we'll have plenty of feed without it, +indeed," Barney conceded. + + Nelse Jensen, Signa's gloomy suitor, had his +word. "Lou, he says he wouldn't have no silo +on his place if you'd give it to him. He says +the feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He +heard of somebody lost four head of horses, +feedin' 'em that stuff." + + Alexandra looked down the table from one +to another. "Well, the only way we can find +out is to try. Lou and I have different notions +about feeding stock, and that's a good thing. +It's bad if all the members of a family think +alike. They never get anywhere. Lou can learn +by my mistakes and I can learn by his. Isn't +that fair, Barney?" + + The Irishman laughed. He had no love for +Lou, who was always uppish with him and who +said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. +"I've no thought but to give the thing an honest +try, mum. 'T would be only right, after puttin' +so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will come +out an' have a look at it wid me." He pushed +back his chair, took his hat from the nail, and +marched out with Emil, who, with his univer- +sity ideas, was supposed to have instigated the +silo. The other hands followed them, all except +old Ivar. He had been depressed throughout +the meal and had paid no heed to the talk of +the men, even when they mentioned cornstalk +bloat, upon which he was sure to have opinions. + + "Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?" Alex- +andra asked as she rose from the table. "Come +into the sitting-room." + + The old man followed Alexandra, but when +she motioned him to a chair he shook his +head. She took up her workbasket and waited +for him to speak. He stood looking at the car- +pet, his bushy head bowed, his hands clasped in +front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed to have +grown shorter with years, and they were com- +pletely misfitted to his broad, thick body and +heavy shoulders. + + "Well, Ivar, what is it?" Alexandra asked +after she had waited longer than usual. + + Ivar had never learned to speak English and +his Norwegian was quaint and grave, like the +speech of the more old-fashioned people. He +always addressed Alexandra in terms of the +deepest respect, hoping to set a good example +to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too fam- +iliar in their manners. + + "Mistress," he began faintly, without raising +his eyes, "the folk have been looking coldly at +me of late. You know there has been talk." + + "Talk about what, Ivar?" + + "About sending me away; to the asylum." + + Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. +"Nobody has come to me with such talk," she +said decidedly. "Why need you listen? You +know I would never consent to such a thing." + + Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her +out of his little eyes. "They say that you can- +not prevent it if the folk complain of me, if your +brothers complain to the authorities. They say +that your brothers are afraid--God forbid!-- +that I may do you some injury when my spells +are on me. Mistress, how can any one think +that?--that I could bite the hand that fed +me!" The tears trickled down on the old man's +beard. + + Alexandra frowned. "Ivar, I wonder at you, +that you should come bothering me with such +nonsense. I am still running my own house, +and other people have nothing to do with +either you or me. So long as I am suited with +you, there is nothing to be said." + + Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the +breast of his blouse and wiped his eyes and +beard. "But I should not wish you to keep me +if, as they say, it is against your interests, and +if it is hard for you to get hands because I am +here." + + Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but +the old man put out his hand and went on +earnestly:-- + + "Listen, mistress, it is right that you should +take these things into account. You know that +my spells come from God, and that I would not +harm any living creature. You believe that +every one should worship God in the way +revealed to him. But that is not the way of +this country. The way here is for all to do alike. +I am despised because I do not wear shoes, +because I do not cut my hair, and because I +have visions. At home, in the old country, +there were many like me, who had been touched +by God, or who had seen things in the grave- +yard at night and were different afterward. We +thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But +here, if a man is different in his feet or in his +head, they put him in the asylum. Look at +Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out +of a creek, he swallowed a snake, and always +after that he could eat only such food as the +creature liked, for when he ate anything else, it +became enraged and gnawed him. When he +felt it whipping about in him, he drank alcohol +to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. He +could work as good as any man, and his head +was clear, but they locked him up for being +different in his stomach. That is the way; they +have built the asylum for people who are dif- +ferent, and they will not even let us live in the +holes with the badgers. Only your great pros- +perity has protected me so far. If you had had +ill-fortune, they would have taken me to Has- +tings long ago." + + As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra +had found that she could often break his fasts +and long penances by talking to him and let- +ting him pour out the thoughts that troubled +him. Sympathy always cleared his mind, and +ridicule was poison to him. + + "There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. +Like as not they will be wanting to take me to +Hastings because I have built a silo; and then +I may take you with me. But at present I need +you here. Only don't come to me again telling +me what people say. Let people go on talking +as they like, and we will go on living as we +think best. You have been with me now for +twelve years, and I have gone to you for advice +oftener than I have ever gone to any one. That +ought to satisfy you." + + Ivar bowed humbly. "Yes, mistress, I shall +not trouble you with their talk again. And as +for my feet, I have observed your wishes all +these years, though you have never questioned +me; washing them every night, even in winter." + + Alexandra laughed. "Oh, never mind about +your feet, Ivar. We can remember when half +our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I ex- +pect old Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes +off now sometimes, if she dared. I'm glad I'm +not Lou's mother-in-law." + + Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered +his voice almost to a whisper. "You know +what they have over at Lou's house? A great +white tub, like the stone water-troughs in the +old country, to wash themselves in. When you +sent me over with the strawberries, they were +all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. +She took me in and showed me the thing, and +she told me it was impossible to wash yourself +clean in it, because, in so much water, you could +not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up +and send her in there, she pretends, and makes a +splashing noise. Then, when they are all asleep, +she washes herself in a little wooden tub she +keeps under her bed." + + Alexandra shook with laughter. "Poor old +Mrs. Lee! They won't let her wear nightcaps, +either. Never mind; when she comes to visit +me, she can do all the old things in the old +way, and have as much beer as she wants. +We'll start an asylum for old-time people, +Ivar." + + Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully +and thrust it back into his blouse. "This is +always the way, mistress. I come to you sor- +rowing, and you send me away with a light +heart. And will you be so good as to tell the +Irishman that he is not to work the brown +gelding until the sore on its shoulder is healed?" + + "That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare +to the cart. I am going to drive up to the north +quarter to meet the man from town who is to +buy my alfalfa hay." + + + + III + + + Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar's case, +however. On Sunday her married brothers +came to dinner. She had asked them for that +day because Emil, who hated family parties, +would be absent, dancing at Amedee Chevalier's +wedding, up in the French country. The table +was set for company in the dining-room, where +highly varnished wood and colored glass and +useless pieces of china were conspicuous enough +to satisfy the standards of the new prosperity. +Alexandra had put herself into the hands of the +Hanover furniture dealer, and he had conscien- +tiously done his best to make her dining-room +look like his display window. She said frankly +that she knew nothing about such things, and +she was willing to be governed by the general +conviction that the more useless and utterly +unusable objects were, the greater their virtue +as ornament. That seemed reasonable enough. +Since she liked plain things herself, it was all +the more necessary to have jars and punch- +bowls and candlesticks in the company rooms +for people who did appreciate them. Her +guests liked to see about them these reassuring +emblems of prosperity. + + The family party was complete except for +Emil, and Oscar's wife who, in the country +phrase, "was not going anywhere just now." +Oscar sat at the foot of the table and his four +tow-headed little boys, aged from twelve to five, +were ranged at one side. Neither Oscar nor +Lou has changed much; they have simply, as +Alexandra said of them long ago, grown to be +more and more like themselves. Lou now looks +the older of the two; his face is thin and shrewd +and wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar's is +thick and dull. For all his dullness, however, +Oscar makes more money than his brother, +which adds to Lou's sharpness and uneasiness +and tempts him to make a show. The trouble +with Lou is that he is tricky, and his neighbors +have found out that, as Ivar says, he has not +a fox's face for nothing. Politics being the nat- +ural field for such talents, he neglects his farm +to attend conventions and to run for county +offices. + + Lou's wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to +look curiously like her husband. Her face has +become longer, sharper, more aggressive. She +wears her yellow hair in a high pompadour, +and is bedecked with rings and chains and +"beauty pins." Her tight, high-heeled shoes +give her an awkward walk, and she is always +more or less preoccupied with her clothes. As +she sat at the table, she kept telling her young- +est daughter to "be careful now, and not drop +anything on mother." + + The conversation at the table was all in Eng- +lish. Oscar's wife, from the malaria district of +Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a foreigner, +and his boys do not understand a word of +Swedish. Annie and Lou sometimes speak +Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as much +afraid of being "caught" at it as ever her +mother was of being caught barefoot. Oscar +still has a thick accent, but Lou speaks like +anybody from Iowa. + + "When I was in Hastings to attend the con- +vention," he was saying, "I saw the superin- +tendent of the asylum, and I was telling him +about Ivar's symptoms. He says Ivar's case +is one of the most dangerous kind, and it's +a wonder he hasn't done something violent +before this." + + Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. "Oh, +nonsense, Lou! The doctors would have us all +crazy if they could. Ivar's queer, certainly, but +he has more sense than half the hands I hire." + + Lou flew at his fried chicken. "Oh, I guess +the doctor knows his business, Alexandra. He +was very much surprised when I told him how +you'd put up with Ivar. He says he's likely to +set fire to the barn any night, or to take after +you and the girls with an axe." + + Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, +giggled and fled to the kitchen. Alexandra's +eyes twinkled. "That was too much for Signa, +Lou. We all know that Ivar's perfectly harm- +less. The girls would as soon expect me to +chase them with an axe." + + Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. "All +the same, the neighbors will be having a say +about it before long. He may burn anybody's +barn. It's only necessary for one property- +owner in the township to make complaint, and +he'll be taken up by force. You'd better send +him yourself and not have any hard feelings." + + Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to +gravy. "Well, Lou, if any of the neighbors try +that, I'll have myself appointed Ivar's guardian +and take the case to court, that's all. I am +perfectly satisfied with him." + + "Pass the preserves, Lou," said Annie in a +warning tone. She had reasons for not wishing +her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. +"But don't you sort of hate to have people see +him around here, Alexandra?" she went on +with persuasive smoothness. "He IS a disgrace- +ful object, and you're fixed up so nice now. It +sort of makes people distant with you, when +they never know when they'll hear him scratch- +ing about. My girls are afraid as death of him, +aren't you, Milly, dear?" + + Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompa- +doured, with a creamy complexion, square +white teeth, and a short upper lip. She looked +like her grandmother Bergson, and had her +comfortable and comfort-loving nature. She +grinned at her aunt, with whom she was a great +deal more at ease than she was with her mother. +Alexandra winked a reply. + + "Milly needn't be afraid of Ivar. She's an +especial favorite of his. In my opinion Ivar has +just as much right to his own way of dressing +and thinking as we have. But I'll see that he +doesn't bother other people. I'll keep him at +home, so don't trouble any more about him, +Lou. I've been wanting to ask you about your +new bathtub. How does it work?" + + Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to +recover himself. "Oh, it works something +grand! I can't keep him out of it. He washes +himself all over three times a week now, and +uses all the hot water. I think it's weakening +to stay in as long as he does. You ought to +have one, Alexandra." + + "I'm thinking of it. I might have one put in +the barn for Ivar, if it will ease people's minds. +But before I get a bathtub, I'm going to get a +piano for Milly." + + Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from +his plate. "What does Milly want of a pianny? +What's the matter with her organ? She can +make some use of that, and play in church." + + Annie looked flustered. She had begged +Alexandra not to say anything about this plan +before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous of what +his sister did for Lou's children. Alexandra did +not get on with Oscar's wife at all. "Milly can +play in church just the same, and she'll still +play on the organ. But practising on it so +much spoils her touch. Her teacher says so," +Annie brought out with spirit. + + Oscar rolled his eyes. "Well, Milly must have +got on pretty good if she's got past the organ. +I know plenty of grown folks that ain't," he +said bluntly. + + Annie threw up her chin. "She has got on +good, and she's going to play for her commence- +ment when she graduates in town next year." + + "Yes," said Alexandra firmly, "I think Milly +deserves a piano. All the girls around here have +been taking lessons for years, but Milly is the +only one of them who can ever play anything +when you ask her. I'll tell you when I first +thought I would like to give you a piano, Milly, +and that was when you learned that book of +old Swedish songs that your grandfather used +to sing. He had a sweet tenor voice, and when +he was a young man he loved to sing. I can +remember hearing him singing with the sailors +down in the shipyard, when I was no bigger +than Stella here," pointing to Annie's younger +daughter. + + Milly and Stella both looked through the +door into the sitting-room, where a crayon por- +trait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alex- +andra had had it made from a little photograph, +taken for his friends just before he left Sweden; +a slender man of thirty-five, with soft hair curl- +ing about his high forehead, a drooping mus- +tache, and wondering, sad eyes that looked +forward into the distance, as if they already +beheld the New World. + + After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the +orchard to pick cherries--they had neither of +them had the patience to grow an orchard of their +own--and Annie went down to gossip with +Alexandra's kitchen girls while they washed the +dishes. She could always find out more about +Alexandra's domestic economy from the prat- +tling maids than from Alexandra herself, and +what she discovered she used to her own advan- +tage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers' daugh- +ters no longer went out into service, so Alex- +andra got her girls from Sweden, by paying +their fare over. They stayed with her until +they married, and were replaced by sisters or +cousins from the old country. + + Alexandra took her three nieces into the +flower garden. She was fond of the little girls, +especially of Milly, who came to spend a week +with her aunt now and then, and read aloud +to her from the old books about the house, or +listened to stories about the early days on the +Divide. While they were walking among the +flower beds, a buggy drove up the hill and +stopped in front of the gate. A man got out and +stood talking to the driver. The little girls +were delighted at the advent of a stranger, some +one from very far away, they knew by his +clothes, his gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut +of his dark beard. The girls fell behind their +aunt and peeped out at him from among the +castor beans. The stranger came up to the gate +and stood holding his hat in his hand, smiling, +while Alexandra advanced slowly to meet him. +As she approached he spoke in a low, pleasant +voice. + + "Don't you know me, Alexandra? I would +have known you, anywhere." + + Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. +Suddenly she took a quick step forward. "Can +it be!" she exclaimed with feeling; "can it be +that it is Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!" +She threw out both her hands and caught his +across the gate. "Sadie, Milly, run tell your +father and Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl +Linstrum is here. Be quick! Why, Carl, how +did it happen? I can't believe this!" Alexan- +dra shook the tears from her eyes and laughed. + + The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped +his suitcase inside the fence, and opened the +gate. "Then you are glad to see me, and you +can put me up overnight? I couldn't go +through this country without stopping off to +have a look at you. How little you have +changed! Do you know, I was sure it would be +like that. You simply couldn't be different. +How fine you are!" He stepped back and +looked at her admiringly. + + Alexandra blushed and laughed again. "But +you yourself, Carl--with that beard--how +could I have known you? You went away a +little boy." She reached for his suitcase and +when he intercepted her she threw up her +hands. "You see, I give myself away. I have +only women come to visit me, and I do not +know how to behave. Where is your trunk?" + + "It's in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. +I am on my way to the coast." + + They started up the path. "A few days? +After all these years!" Alexandra shook her +finger at him. "See this, you have walked into +a trap. You do not get away so easy." She put +her hand affectionately on his shoulder. "You +owe me a visit for the sake of old times. Why +must you go to the coast at all?" + + "Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From +Seattle I go on to Alaska." + + "Alaska?" She looked at him in astonish- +ment. "Are you going to paint the Indians?" + + "Paint?" the young man frowned. "Oh! I'm +not a painter, Alexandra. I'm an engraver. I +have nothing to do with painting." + + "But on my parlor wall I have the paint- +ings--" + + He interrupted nervously. "Oh, water-color +sketches--done for amusement. I sent them to +remind you of me, not because they were good. +What a wonderful place you have made of this, +Alexandra." He turned and looked back at the +wide, map-like prospect of field and hedge and +pasture. "I would never have believed it could +be done. I'm disappointed in my own eye, in +my imagination." + + At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the +hill from the orchard. They did not quicken +their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they +did not openly look in his direction. They +advanced distrustfully, and as if they wished +the distance were longer. + + Alexandra beckoned to them. "They think +I am trying to fool them. Come, boys, it's +Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!" + + Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance +and thrust out his hand. "Glad to see you." + + Oscar followed with "How d' do." Carl could +not tell whether their offishness came from +unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and +Alexandra led the way to the porch. + + "Carl," Alexandra explained, "is on his way +to Seattle. He is going to Alaska." + + Oscar studied the visitor's yellow shoes. +"Got business there?" he asked. + + Carl laughed. "Yes, very pressing business. +I'm going there to get rich. Engraving's a very +interesting profession, but a man never makes +any money at it. So I'm going to try the gold- +fields." + + Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, +and Lou looked up with some interest. "Ever +done anything in that line before?" + + "No, but I'm going to join a friend of mine +who went out from New York and has done +well. He has offered to break me in." + + "Turrible cold winters, there, I hear," re- +marked Oscar. "I thought people went up +there in the spring." + + "They do. But my friend is going to spend +the winter in Seattle and I am to stay with him +there and learn something about prospecting +before we start north next year." + + Lou looked skeptical. "Let's see, how long +have you been away from here?" + + "Sixteen years. You ought to remember +that, Lou, for you were married just after we +went away." + + "Going to stay with us some time?" Oscar +asked. + + "A few days, if Alexandra can keep me." + + "I expect you'll be wanting to see your old +place," Lou observed more cordially. "You +won't hardly know it. But there's a few chunks +of your old sod house left. Alexandra wouldn't +never let Frank Shabata plough over it." + + Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was +announced, had been touching up her hair and +settling her lace and wishing she had worn +another dress, now emerged with her three +daughters and introduced them. She was +greatly impressed by Carl's urban appearance, +and in her excitement talked very loud and +threw her head about. "And you ain't married +yet? At your age, now! Think of that! You'll +have to wait for Milly. Yes, we've got a boy, +too. The youngest. He's at home with his +grandma. You must come over to see mother +and hear Milly play. She's the musician of the +family. She does pyrography, too. That's +burnt wood, you know. You wouldn't believe +what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes +to school in town, and she is the youngest in +her class by two years." + + Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took +her hand again. He liked her creamy skin and +happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her +mother's way of talking distressed her. "I'm +sure she's a clever little girl," he murmured, +looking at her thoughtfully. "Let me see-- +Ah, it's your mother that she looks like, Alex- +andra. Mrs. Bergson must have looked just +like this when she was a little girl. Does Milly +run about over the country as you and Alex- +andra used to, Annie?" + + Milly's mother protested. "Oh, my, no! +Things has changed since we was girls. Milly +has it very different. We are going to rent the +place and move into town as soon as the girls +are old enough to go out into company. A +good many are doing that here now. Lou is +going into business." + + Lou grinned. "That's what she says. You +better go get your things on. Ivar's hitching +up," he added, turning to Annie. + + Young farmers seldom address their wives by +name. It is always "you," or "she." + + Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat +down on the step and began to whittle. "Well, +what do folks in New York think of William +Jennings Bryan?" Lou began to bluster, as he +always did when he talked politics. "We gave +Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all right, +and we're fixing another to hand them. Silver +wasn't the only issue," he nodded mysteriously. +"There's a good many things got to be changed. +The West is going to make itself heard." + + Carl laughed. "But, surely, it did do that, +if nothing else." + + Lou's thin face reddened up to the roots of his +bristly hair. "Oh, we've only begun. We're +waking up to a sense of our responsibilities, +out here, and we ain't afraid, neither. You +fellows back there must be a tame lot. If you +had any nerve you'd get together and march +down to Wall Street and blow it up. Dyna- +mite it, I mean," with a threatening nod. + + He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely +knew how to answer him. "That would be a +waste of powder. The same business would go on +in another street. The street doesn't matter. +But what have you fellows out here got to kick +about? You have the only safe place there is. +Morgan himself couldn't touch you. One only +has to drive through this country to see that +you're all as rich as barons." + + "We have a good deal more to say than we +had when we were poor," said Lou threateningly. +"We're getting on to a whole lot of things." + + As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the +gate, Annie came out in a hat that looked like +the model of a battleship. Carl rose and took +her down to the carriage, while Lou lingered for +a word with his sister. + + "What do you suppose he's come for?" he +asked, jerking his head toward the gate. + + "Why, to pay us a visit. I've been begging +him to for years." + + Oscar looked at Alexandra. "He didn't let +you know he was coming?" + + "No. Why should he? I told him to come at +any time." + + Lou shrugged his shoulders. "He doesn't +seem to have done much for himself. Wander- +ing around this way!" + + Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of +a cavern. "He never was much account." + + Alexandra left them and hurried down to the +gate where Annie was rattling on to Carl about +her new dining-room furniture. "You must +bring Mr. Linstrum over real soon, only be sure +to telephone me first," she called back, as Carl +helped her into the carriage. Old Ivar, his white +head bare, stood holding the horses. Lou came +down the path and climbed into the front seat, +took up the reins, and drove off without saying +anything further to any one. Oscar picked up +his youngest boy and trudged off down the +road, the other three trotting after him. Carl, +holding the gate open for Alexandra, began to +laugh. "Up and coming on the Divide, eh, +Alexandra?" he cried gayly. + + + + IV + + + Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less +than one might have expected. He had not +become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There +was still something homely and wayward and +definitely personal about him. Even his clothes, +his Norfolk coat and his very high collars, were +a little unconventional. He seemed to shrink +into himself as he used to do; to hold him- +self away from things, as if he were afraid +of being hurt. In short, he was more self-con- +scious than a man of thirty-five is expected to +be. He looked older than his years and not +very strong. His black hair, which still hung +in a triangle over his pale forehead, was thin at +the crown, and there were fine, relentless lines +about his eyes. His back, with its high, sharp +shoulders, looked like the back of an over- +worked German professor off on his holiday. +His face was intelligent, sensitive, unhappy. + + That evening after supper, Carl and Alex- +andra were sitting by the clump of castor beans +in the middle of the flower garden. The gravel +paths glittered in the moonlight, and below +them the fields lay white and still. + + "Do you know, Alexandra," he was saying, +"I've been thinking how strangely things work +out. I've been away engraving other men's +pictures, and you've stayed at home and made +your own." He pointed with his cigar toward +the sleeping landscape. "How in the world +have you done it? How have your neighbors +done it?" + + "We hadn't any of us much to do with it, +Carl. The land did it. It had its little joke. It +pretended to be poor because nobody knew how +to work it right; and then, all at once, it worked +itself. It woke up out of its sleep and stretched +itself, and it was so big, so rich, that we sud- +denly found we were rich, just from sitting still. +As for me, you remember when I began to buy +land. For years after that I was always squeez- +ing and borrowing until I was ashamed to show +my face in the banks. And then, all at once, +men began to come to me offering to lend me +money--and I didn't need it! Then I went +ahead and built this house. I really built it for +Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so +different from the rest of us!" + + "How different?" + + "Oh, you'll see! I'm sure it was to have sons +like Emil, and to give them a chance, that father +left the old country. It's curious, too; on the +outside Emil is just like an American boy,--he +graduated from the State University in June, +you know,--but underneath he is more Swed- +ish than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father +that he frightens me; he is so violent in his feel- +ings like that." + + "Is he going to farm here with you?" + + "He shall do whatever he wants to," Alex- +andra declared warmly. "He is going to have +a chance, a whole chance; that's what I've +worked for. Sometimes he talks about studying +law, and sometimes, just lately, he's been talk- +ing about going out into the sand hills and tak- +ing up more land. He has his sad times, like +father. But I hope he won't do that. We have +land enough, at last!" Alexandra laughed. + + "How about Lou and Oscar? They've done +well, haven't they?" + + "Yes, very well; but they are different, and +now that they have farms of their own I do not +see so much of them. We divided the land +equally when Lou married. They have their +own way of doing things, and they do not alto- +gether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps they +think me too independent. But I have had to +think for myself a good many years and am not +likely to change. On the whole, though, we +take as much comfort in each other as most +brothers and sisters do. And I am very fond of +Lou's oldest daughter." + + "I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, +and they probably feel the same about me. I +even, if you can keep a secret,"--Carl leaned +forward and touched her arm, smiling,--"I +even think I liked the old country better. This +is all very splendid in its way, but there was +something about this country when it was a +wild old beast that has haunted me all these +years. Now, when I come back to all this milk +and honey, I feel like the old German song, 'Wo +bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest Land?'-- +Do you ever feel like that, I wonder?" + + "Yes, sometimes, when I think about father +and mother and those who are gone; so many +of our old neighbors." Alexandra paused and +looked up thoughtfully at the stars. "We can +remember the graveyard when it was wild +prairie, Carl, and now--" + + "And now the old story has begun to write +itself over there," said Carl softly. "Isn't it +queer: there are only two or three human +stories, and they go on repeating themselves as +fiercely as if they had never happened before; +like the larks in this country, that have been +singing the same five notes over for thousands +of years." + + "Oh, yes! The young people, they live so +hard. And yet I sometimes envy them. There +is my little neighbor, now; the people who +bought your old place. I wouldn't have sold it +to any one else, but I was always fond of that +girl. You must remember her, little Marie +Tovesky, from Omaha, who used to visit here? +When she was eighteen she ran away from the +convent school and got married, crazy child! +She came out here a bride, with her father and +husband. He had nothing, and the old man +was willing to buy them a place and set them +up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad +to have her so near me. I've never been sorry, +either. I even try to get along with Frank on +her account." + + "Is Frank her husband?" + + "Yes. He's one of these wild fellows. Most +Bohemians are good-natured, but Frank thinks +we don't appreciate him here, I guess. He's jeal- +ous about everything, his farm and his horses +and his pretty wife. Everybody likes her, just +the same as when she was little. Sometimes I +go up to the Catholic church with Emil, and +it's funny to see Marie standing there laughing +and shaking hands with people, looking so ex- +cited and gay, with Frank sulking behind her +as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank's not +a bad neighbor, but to get on with him you've +got to make a fuss over him and act as if you +thought he was a very important person all the +time, and different from other people. I find it +hard to keep that up from one year's end to +another." + + "I shouldn't think you'd be very successful +at that kind of thing, Alexandra." Carl seemed +to find the idea amusing. + + "Well," said Alexandra firmly, "I do the +best I can, on Marie's account. She has it hard +enough, anyway. She's too young and pretty +for this sort of life. We're all ever so much older +and slower. But she's the kind that won't be +downed easily. She'll work all day and go to +a Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and +drive the hay wagon for a cross man next morn- +ing. I could stay by a job, but I never had the go +in me that she has, when I was going my best. +I'll have to take you over to see her to-morrow." + + Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly +among the castor beans and sighed. "Yes, I +suppose I must see the old place. I'm cow- +ardly about things that remind me of myself. +It took courage to come at all, Alexandra. I +wouldn't have, if I hadn't wanted to see you +very, very much." + + Alexandra looked at him with her calm, +deliberate eyes. "Why do you dread things +like that, Carl?" she asked earnestly. "Why +are you dissatisfied with yourself?" + + Her visitor winced. "How direct you are, +Alexandra! Just like you used to be. Do I give +myself away so quickly? Well, you see, for one +thing, there's nothing to look forward to in my +profession. Wood-engraving is the only thing +I care about, and that had gone out before I +began. Everything's cheap metal work now- +adays, touching up miserable photographs, +forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good +ones. I'm absolutely sick of it all." Carl +frowned. "Alexandra, all the way out from +New York I've been planning how I could de- +ceive you and make you think me a very envi- +able fellow, and here I am telling you the +truth the first night. I waste a lot of time pre- +tending to people, and the joke of it is, I don't +think I ever deceive any one. There are too +many of my kind; people know us on sight." + + Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair +back from her brow with a puzzled, thoughtful +gesture. "You see," he went on calmly, "mea- +sured by your standards here, I'm a failure. +I couldn't buy even one of your cornfields. +I've enjoyed a great many things, but I've +got nothing to show for it all." + + "But you show for it yourself, Carl. I'd +rather have had your freedom than my land." + + Carl shook his head mournfully. "Freedom +so often means that one isn't needed anywhere. +Here you are an individual, you have a back- +ground of your own, you would be missed. But +off there in the cities there are thousands of +rolling stones like me. We are all alike; we +have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing. +When one of us dies, they scarcely know where +to bury him. Our landlady and the delicatessen +man are our mourners, and we leave nothing +behind us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an +easel, or a typewriter, or whatever tool we got +our living by. All we have ever managed to +do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent that +one has to pay for a few square feet of space +near the heart of things. We have no house, +no place, no people of our own. We live in +the streets, in the parks, in the theatres. We sit +in restaurants and concert halls and look about +at the hundreds of our own kind and shudder." + + Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the +silver spot the moon made on the surface of the +pond down in the pasture. He knew that she +understood what he meant. At last she said +slowly, "And yet I would rather have Emil +grow up like that than like his two brothers. +We pay a high rent, too, though we pay differ- +ently. We grow hard and heavy here. We +don't move lightly and easily as you do, and +our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider +than my cornfields, if there were not something +beside this, I wouldn't feel that it was much +worth while to work. No, I would rather have +Emil like you than like them. I felt that as soon +as you came." + + "I wonder why you feel like that?" Carl +mused. + + "I don't know. Perhaps I am like Carrie +Jensen, the sister of one of my hired men. She +had never been out of the cornfields, and a few +years ago she got despondent and said life was +just the same thing over and over, and she +didn't see the use of it. After she had tried +to kill herself once or twice, her folks got wor- +ried and sent her over to Iowa to visit some +relations. Ever since she's come back she's +been perfectly cheerful, and she says she's con- +tented to live and work in a world that's so big +and interesting. She said that anything as big +as the bridges over the Platte and the Missouri +reconciled her. And it's what goes on in the +world that reconciles me." + + + + V + + + Alexandra did not find time to go to her +neighbor's the next day, nor the next. It was a +busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing +going on, and even Emil was in the field with a +team and cultivator. Carl went about over the +farms with Alexandra in the morning, and in +the afternoon and evening they found a great +deal to talk about. Emil, for all his track prac- +tice, did not stand up under farmwork very +well, and by night he was too tired to talk or +even to practise on his cornet. + + On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it +was light, and stole downstairs and out of the +kitchen door just as old Ivar was making his +morning ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded +to him and hurried up the draw, past the gar- +den, and into the pasture where the milking +cows used to be kept. + + The dawn in the east looked like the light +from some great fire that was burning under +the edge of the world. The color was reflected +in the globules of dew that sheathed the short +gray pasture grass. Carl walked rapidly until +he came to the crest of the second hill, where +the Bergson pasture joined the one that had +belonged to his father. There he sat down and +waited for the sun to rise. It was just there +that he and Alexandra used to do their milking +together, he on his side of the fence, she on hers. +He could remember exactly how she looked +when she came over the close-cropped grass, +her skirts pinned up, her head bare, a bright +tin pail in either hand, and the milky light of the +early morning all about her. Even as a boy he +used to feel, when he saw her coming with her +free step, her upright head and calm shoulders, +that she looked as if she had walked straight +out of the morning itself. Since then, when he +had happened to see the sun come up in the +country or on the water, he had often remem- +bered the young Swedish girl and her milking +pails. + + Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above +the prairie, and in the grass about him all the +small creatures of day began to tune their tiny +instruments. Birds and insects without num- +ber began to chirp, to twitter, to snap and +whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill +noises. The pasture was flooded with light; +every clump of ironweed and snow-on-the- +mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden +light seemed to be rippling through the curly +grass like the tide racing in. + + He crossed the fence into the pasture that +was now the Shabatas' and continued his walk +toward the pond. He had not gone far, how- +ever, when he discovered that he was not the +only person abroad. In the draw below, his gun +in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, +with a young woman beside him. They were +moving softly, keeping close together, and +Carl knew that they expected to find ducks on +the pond. At the moment when they came in +sight of the bright spot of water, he heard a +whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into the +air. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and +five of the birds fell to the ground. Emil and his +companion laughed delightedly, and Emil ran +to pick them up. When he came back, dangling +the ducks by their feet, Marie held her apron +and he dropped them into it. As she stood +looking down at them, her face changed. She +took up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of +feathers with the blood dripping slowly from its +mouth, and looked at the live color that still +burned on its plumage. + + As she let it fall, she cried in distress, "Oh, +Emil, why did you?" + + "I like that!" the boy exclaimed indignantly. +"Why, Marie, you asked me to come yourself." + + ":Yes, yes, I know," she said tearfully, "but I +didn't think. I hate to see them when they are +first shot. They were having such a good time, +and we've spoiled it all for them." + + Emil gave a rather sore laugh. "I should say +we had! I'm not going hunting with you any +more. You're as bad as Ivar. Here, let me +take them." He snatched the ducks out of her +apron. + + "Don't be cross, Emil. Only--Ivar's right +about wild things. They're too happy to kill. +You can tell just how they felt when they flew +up. They were scared, but they didn't really +think anything could hurt them. No, we won't +do that any more." + + "All right," Emil assented. "I'm sorry I +made you feel bad." As he looked down into +her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp +young bitterness in his own. + + Carl watched them as they moved slowly +down the draw. They had not seen him at all. +He had not overheard much of their dialogue, +but he felt the import of it. It made him, some- +how, unreasonably mournful to find two young +things abroad in the pasture in the early morn- +ing. He decided that he needed his breakfast. + + + + VI + + + At dinner that day Alexandra said she +thought they must really manage to go over to +the Shabatas' that afternoon. "It's not often I +let three days go by without seeing Marie. She +will think I have forsaken her, now that my old +friend has come back." + + After the men had gone back to work, Alex- +andra put on a white dress and her sun-hat, and +she and Carl set forth across the fields. "You +see we have kept up the old path, Carl. It has +been so nice for me to feel that there was a +friend at the other end of it again." + + Carl smiled a little ruefully. "All the same, I +hope it hasn't been QUITE the same." + + Alexandra looked at him with surprise. +"Why, no, of course not. Not the same. She +could not very well take your place, if that's +what you mean. I'm friendly with all my +neighbors, I hope. But Marie is really a com- +panion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. +You wouldn't want me to be more lonely than +I have been, would you?" + + Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular +lock of hair with the edge of his hat. "Of course +I don't. I ought to be thankful that this path +hasn't been worn by--well, by friends with +more pressing errands than your little Bohe- +mian is likely to have." He paused to give +Alexandra his hand as she stepped over the stile. +"Are you the least bit disappointed in our com- +ing together again?" he asked abruptly. "Is it +the way you hoped it would be?" + + Alexandra smiled at this. "Only better. +When I've thought about your coming, I've +sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have +lived where things move so fast, and every- +thing is slow here; the people slowest of all. Our +lives are like the years, all made up of weather +and crops and cows. How you hated cows!" +She shook her head and laughed to herself. + + "I didn't when we milked together. I +walked up to the pasture corners this morning. +I wonder whether I shall ever be able to tell you +all that I was thinking about up there. It's a +strange thing, Alexandra; I find it easy to be +frank with you about everything under the sun +except--yourself!" + + "You are afraid of hurting my feelings, per- +haps." Alexandra looked at him thoughtfully. + + "No, I'm afraid of giving you a shock. +You've seen yourself for so long in the dull +minds of the people about you, that if I were to +tell you how you seem to me, it would startle +you. But you must see that you astonish me. +You must feel when people admire you." + + Alexandra blushed and laughed with some +confusion. "I felt that you were pleased with +me, if you mean that." + + "And you've felt when other people were +pleased with you?" he insisted. + + "Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the +banks and the county offices, seem glad to see +me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant to +do business with people who are clean and +healthy-looking," she admitted blandly. + + Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the +Shabatas' gate for her. "Oh, do you?" he +asked dryly. + + There was no sign of life about the Shabatas' +house except a big yellow cat, sunning itself on +the kitchen doorstep. + + Alexandra took the path that led to the +orchard. "She often sits there and sews. I +didn't telephone her we were coming, because I +didn't her to go to work and bake cake +and freeze ice-cream. She'll always make a +party if you give her the least excuse. Do you +recognize the apple trees, Carl?" + + Linstrum looked about him. "I wish I had a +dollar for every bucket of water I've carried for +those trees. Poor father, he was an easy man, +but he was perfectly merciless when it came to +watering the orchard." + + "That's one thing I like about Germans; +they make an orchard grow if they can't make +anything else. I'm so glad these trees belong to +some one who takes comfort in them. When I +rented this place, the tenants never kept the +orchard up, and Emil and I used to come over +and take care of it ourselves. It needs mowing +now. There she is, down in the corner. Ma- +ria-a-a!" she called. + + A recumbent figure started up from the grass +and came running toward them through the +flickering screen of light and shade. + + "Look at her! Isn't she like a little brown +rabbit?" Alexandra laughed. + + Maria ran up panting and threw her arms +about Alexandra. "Oh, I had begun to think +you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you +were so busy. Yes, Emil told me about Mr. +Linstrum being here. Won't you come up to +the house?" + + "Why not sit down there in your corner? +Carl wants to see the orchard. He kept all +these trees alive for years, watering them with +his own back." + + Marie turned to Carl. "Then I'm thankful +to you, Mr. Linstrum. We'd never have bought +the place if it hadn't been for this orchard, and +then I wouldn't have had Alexandra, either." +She gave Alexandra's arm a little squeeze as +she walked beside her. "How nice your dress +smells, Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in +your chest, like I told you." + + She led them to the northwest corner of the +orchard, sheltered on one side by a thick mul- +berry hedge and bordered on the other by a +wheatfield, just beginning to yellow. In this +corner the ground dipped a little, and the blue- +grass, which the weeds had driven out in the +upper part of the orchard, grew thick and luxu- +riant. Wild roses were flaming in the tufts of +bunchgrass along the fence. Under a white +mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. +Beside it lay a book and a workbasket. + + "You must have the seat, Alexandra. The +grass would stain your dress," the hostess in- +sisted. She dropped down on the ground at +Alexandra's side and tucked her feet under her. +Carl sat at a little distance from the two wo- +men, his back to the wheatfield, and watched +them. Alexandra took off her shade-hat and +threw it on the ground. Marie picked it up and +played with the white ribbons, twisting them +about her brown fingers as she talked. They +made a pretty picture in the strong sunlight, +the leafy pattern surrounding them like a net; +the Swedish woman so white and gold, kindly +and amused, but armored in calm, and the alert +brown one, her full lips parted, points of yel- +low light dancing in her eyes as she laughed +and chattered. Carl had never forgotten little +Marie Tovesky's eyes, and he was glad to have +an opportunity to study them. The brown +iris, he found, was curiously slashed with yel- +low, the color of sunflower honey, or of old +amber. In each eye one of these streaks must +have been larger than the others, for the effect +was that of two dancing points of light, two +little yellow bubbles, such as rise in a glass of +champagne. Sometimes they seemed like the +sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily ex- +cited, to kindle with a fierce little flame if one +but breathed upon her. "What a waste," Carl +reflected. "She ought to be doing all that for +a sweetheart. How awkwardly things come +about!" + + It was not very long before Marie sprang up +out of the grass again. "Wait a moment. I +want to show you something." She ran away +and disappeared behind the low-growing apple +trees. + + "What a charming creature," Carl mur- +mured. "I don't wonder that her husband is +jealous. But can't she walk? does she always +run?" + + Alexandra nodded. "Always. I don't see +many people, but I don't believe there are many +like her, anywhere." + + Marie came back with a branch she had +broken from an apricot tree, laden with pale- +yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it be- +side Carl. "Did you plant those, too? They are +such beautiful little trees." + + Carl fingered the blue-green leaves, porous +like blotting-paper and shaped like birch +leaves, hung on waxen red stems. "Yes, I +think I did. Are these the circus trees, Alex- +andra?" + + "Shall I tell her about them?" Alexandra +asked. "Sit down like a good girl, Marie, and +don't ruin my poor hat, and I'll tell you a story. +A long time ago, when Carl and I were, say, +sixteen and twelve, a circus came to Hanover +and we went to town in our wagon, with Lou +and Oscar, to see the parade. We hadn't +money enough to go to the circus. We followed +the parade out to the circus grounds and hung +around until the show began and the crowd +went inside the tent. Then Lou was afraid we +looked foolish standing outside in the pasture, +so we went back to Hanover feeling very sad. +There was a man in the streets selling apricots, +and we had never seen any before. He had +driven down from somewhere up in the French +country, and he was selling them twenty-five +cents a peck. We had a little money our fathers +had given us for candy, and I bought two pecks +and Carl bought one. They cheered us a good +deal, and we saved all the seeds and planted +them. Up to the time Carl went away, they +hadn't borne at all." + + "And now he's come back to eat them," +cried Marie, nodding at Carl. "That IS a good +story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Lin- +strum. I used to see you in Hanover some- +times, when Uncle Joe took me to town. I re- +member you because you were always buying +pencils and tubes of paint at the drug store. +Once, when my uncle left me at the store, you +drew a lot of little birds and flowers for me on a +piece of wrapping-paper. I kept them for a long +while. I thought you were very romantic be- +cause you could draw and had such black eyes." + + Carl smiled. "Yes, I remember that time. +Your uncle bought you some kind of a mechani- +cal toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman +and smoking a hookah, wasn't it? And she +turned her head backwards and forwards." + + "Oh, yes! Wasn't she splendid! I knew well +enough I ought not to tell Uncle Joe I wanted +it, for he had just come back from the saloon +and was feeling good. You remember how he +laughed? She tickled him, too. But when we +got home, my aunt scolded him for buying toys +when she needed so many things. We wound +our lady up every night, and when she began to +move her head my aunt used to laugh as hard as +any of us. It was a music-box, you know, and +the Turkish lady played a tune while she +smoked. That was how she made you feel so +jolly. As I remember her, she was lovely, and +had a gold crescent on her turban." + + Half an hour later, as they were leaving the +house, Carl and Alexandra were met in the path +by a strapping fellow in overalls and a blue +shirt. He was breathing hard, as if he had been +running, and was muttering to himself. + + Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the +arm, gave him a little push toward her guests. +"Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum." + + Frank took off his broad straw hat and nod- +ded to Alexandra. When he spoke to Carl, he +showed a fine set of white teeth. He was +burned a dull red down to his neckband, and +there was a heavy three-days' stubble on his +face. Even in his agitation he was handsome, +but he looked a rash and violent man. + + Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once +to his wife and began, in an outraged tone, "I +have to leave my team to drive the old woman +Hiller's hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat +old woman to de court if she ain't careful, I tell +you!" + + His wife spoke soothingly. "But, Frank, she +has only her lame boy to help her. She does the +best she can." + + Alexandra looked at the excited man and +offered a suggestion. "Why don't you go over +there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? +You'd save time for yourself in the end." + + Frank's neck stiffened. "Not-a-much, I +won't. I keep my hogs home. Other peoples +can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend +shoes, he can mend fence." + + "Maybe," said Alexandra placidly; "but +I've found it sometimes pays to mend other +people's fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to +see me soon." + + Alexandra walked firmly down the path and +Carl followed her. + + Frank went into the house and threw himself +on the sofa, his face to the wall, his clenched fist +on his hip. Marie, having seen her guests off, +came in and put her hand coaxingly on his +shoulder. + + "Poor Frank! You've run until you've made +your head ache, now haven't you? Let me +make you some coffee." + + "What else am I to do?" he cried hotly in +Bohemian. "Am I to let any old woman's hogs +root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself +to death for?" + + "Don't worry about it, Frank. I'll speak to +Mrs. Hiller again. But, really, she almost cried +last time they got out, she was so sorry." + + Frank bounced over on his other side. +"That's it; you always side with them against +me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free +to borrow the mower and break it, or turn their +hogs in on me. They know you won't care!" + + Marie hurried away to make his coffee. +When she came back, he was fast asleep. She +sat down and looked at him for a long while, +very thoughtfully. When the kitchen clock +struck six she went out to get supper, closing +the door gently behind her. She was always +sorry for Frank when he worked himself into +one of these rages, and she was sorry to have +him rough and quarrelsome with his neighbors. +She was perfectly aware that the neighbors had +a good deal to put up with, and that they bore +with Frank for her sake. + + + + VII + + + Marie's father, Albert Tovesky, was one +of the more intelligent Bohemians who came +West in the early seventies. He settled in +Omaha and became a leader and adviser among +his people there. Marie was his youngest child, +by a second wife, and was the apple of his +eye. She was barely sixteen, and was in the +graduating class of the Omaha High School, +when Frank Shabata arrived from the old coun- +try and set all the Bohemian girls in a flutter. +He was easily the buck of the beer-gardens, +and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with his +silk hat and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, +wearing gloves and carrying a little wisp of a +yellow cane. He was tall and fair, with splendid +teeth and close-cropped yellow curls, and he +wore a slightly disdainful expression, proper for +a young man with high connections, whose +mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. There +was often an interesting discontent in his blue +eyes, and every Bohemian girl he met imagined +herself the cause of that unsatisfied expression. +He had a way of drawing out his cambric hand- +kerchief slowly, by one corner, from his breast- +pocket, that was melancholy and romantic in +the extreme. He took a little flight with each of +the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it was +when he was with little Marie Tovesky that he +drew his handkerchief out most slowly, and, +after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match +most despairingly. Any one could see, with +half an eye, that his proud heart was bleeding +for somebody. + + One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie's +graduation, she met Frank at a Bohemian pic- +nic down the river and went rowing with him all +the afternoon. When she got home that even- +ing she went straight to her father's room and +told him that she was engaged to Shabata. Old +Tovesky was having a comfortable pipe before +he went to bed. When he heard his daughter's +announcement, he first prudently corked his +beer bottle and then leaped to his feet and had +a turn of temper. He characterized Frank +Shabata by a Bohemian expression which is the +equivalent of stuffed shirt. + + "Why don't he go to work like the rest of us +did? His farm in the Elbe valley, indeed! +Ain't he got plenty brothers and sisters? It's +his mother's farm, and why don't he stay +at home and help her? Haven't I seen his +mother out in the morning at five o'clock with +her ladle and her big bucket on wheels, putting +liquid manure on the cabbages? Don't I know +the look of old Eva Shabata's hands? Like an +old horse's hoofs they are--and this fellow +wearing gloves and rings! Engaged, indeed! +You aren't fit to be out of school, and that's +what's the matter with you. I will send you +off to the Sisters of the Sacred Heart in St. +Louis, and they will teach you some sense, +~I~ guess!" + + Accordingly, the very next week, Albert +Tovesky took his daughter, pale and tearful, +down the river to the convent. But the way to +make Frank want anything was to tell him he +couldn't have it. He managed to have an in- +terview with Marie before she went away, and +whereas he had been only half in love with her +before, he now persuaded himself that he would +not stop at anything. Marie took with her to +the convent, under the canvas lining of her +trunk, the results of a laborious and satisfying +morning on Frank's part; no less than a dozen +photographs of himself, taken in a dozen differ- +ent love-lorn attitudes. There was a little round +photograph for her watch-case, photographs +for her wall and dresser, and even long nar- +row ones to be used as bookmarks. More than +once the handsome gentleman was torn to +pieces before the French class by an indignant +nun. + + Marie pined in the convent for a year, until her +eighteenth birthday was passed. Then she met +Frank Shabata in the Union Station in St. Louis +and ran away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his +daughter because there was nothing else to do, +and bought her a farm in the country that she +had loved so well as a child. Since then her +story had been a part of the history of the +Divide. She and Frank had been living there +for five years when Carl Linstrum came back to +pay his long deferred visit to Alexandra. Frank +had, on the whole, done better than one might +have expected. He had flung himself at the +soil with savage energy. Once a year he went +to Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He +stayed away for a week or two, and then +came home and worked like a demon. He did +work; if he felt sorry for himself, that was his +own affair. + + + + VIII + + + On the evening of the day of Alexandra's call +at the Shabatas', a heavy rain set in. Frank sat +up until a late hour reading the Sunday newspa- +pers. One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, +and Frank took it as a personal affront. In +printing the story of the young man's mar- +ital troubles, the knowing editor gave a suffi- +ciently colored account of his career, stating +the amount of his income and the manner in +which he was supposed to spend it. Frank read +English slowly, and the more he read about this +divorce case, the angrier he grew. At last he +threw down the page with a snort. He turned +to his farm-hand who was reading the other half +of the paper. + + "By God! if I have that young feller in de +hayfield once, I show him someting. Listen +here what he do wit his money." And Frank +began the catalogue of the young man's reputed +extravagances. + + Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the +Goulds, for whom she had nothing but good +will, should make her so much trouble. She +hated to see the Sunday newspapers come into +the house. Frank was always reading about the +doings of rich people and feeling outraged. He +had an inexhaustible stock of stories about their +crimes and follies, how they bribed the courts +and shot down their butlers with impunity +whenever they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson +had very similar ideas, and they were two of the +political agitators of the county. + + The next morning broke clear and brilliant, +but Frank said the ground was too wet to +plough, so he took the cart and drove over to +Sainte-Agnes to spend the day at Moses Mar- +cel's saloon. After he was gone, Marie went out +to the back porch to begin her butter-making. A +brisk wind had come up and was driving puffy +white clouds across the sky. The orchard was +sparkling and rippling in the sun. Marie stood +looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid +of the churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the +air, the merry sound of the whetstone on the +scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran +into the house, put on a short skirt and a pair of +her husband's boots, caught up a tin pail and +started for the orchard. Emil had already be- +gun work and was mowing vigorously. When he +saw her coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. +His yellow canvas leggings and khaki trousers +were splashed to the knees. + + "Don't let me disturb you, Emil. I'm going +to pick cherries. Isn't everything beautiful +after the rain? Oh, but I'm glad to get this +place mowed! When I heard it raining in the +night, I thought maybe you would come and +do it for me to-day. The wind wakened me. +Didn't it blow dreadfully? Just smell the wild +roses! They are always so spicy after a rain. +We never had so many of them in here before. +I suppose it's the wet season. Will you have to +cut them, too?" + + "If I cut the grass, I will," Emil said teas- +ingly. "What's the matter with you? What +makes you so flighty?" + + "Am I flighty? I suppose that's the wet sea- +son, too, then. It's exciting to see everything +growing so fast,--and to get the grass cut! +Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut +them. Oh, I don't mean all of them, I mean +that low place down by my tree, where there +are so many. Aren't you splashed! Look at +the spider-webs all over the grass. Good-bye. +I'll call you if I see a snake." + + She tripped away and Emil stood looking +after her. In a few moments he heard the cher- +ries dropping smartly into the pail, and he +began to swing his scythe with that long, even +stroke that few American boys ever learn. +Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, +stripping one glittering branch after another, +shivering when she caught a shower of rain- +drops on her neck and hair. And Emil mowed +his way slowly down toward the cherry trees. + + That summer the rains had been so many +and opportune that it was almost more than +Shabata and his man could do to keep up with +the corn; the orchard was a neglected wilder- +ness. All sorts of weeds and herbs and flowers +had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, +pale green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, +plantations of wild cotton, tangles of foxtail +and wild wheat. South of the apricot trees, cor- +nering on the wheatfield, was Frank's alfalfa, +where myriads of white and yellow butterflies +were always fluttering above the purple blos- +soms. When Emil reached the lower corner by +the hedge, Marie was sitting under her white +mulberry tree, the pailful of cherries beside her, +looking off at the gentle, tireless swelling of the +wheat. + + "Emil," she said suddenly--he was mowing +quietly about under the tree so as not to disturb +her--"what religion did the Swedes have away +back, before they were Christians?" + + Emil paused and straightened his back. "I +don't know. About like the Germans', wasn't it?" + + Marie went on as if she had not heard him. +"The Bohemians, you know, were tree wor- +shipers before the missionaries came. Father +says the people in the mountains still do queer +things, sometimes,--they believe that trees +bring good or bad luck." + + Emil looked superior. "Do they? Well, +which are the lucky trees? I'd like to know." + + "I don't know all of them, but I know +lindens are. The old people in the mountains +plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do +away with the spells that come from the old +trees they say have lasted from heathen times. +I'm a good Catholic, but I think I could get +along with caring for trees, if I hadn't anything +else." + + "That's a poor saying," said Emil, stooping +over to wipe his hands in the wet grass. + + "Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that +way. I like trees because they seem more +resigned to the way they have to live than +other things do. I feel as if this tree knows +everything I ever think of when I sit here. +When I come back to it, I never have to re- +mind it of anything; I begin just where I left +off." + + Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached +up among the branches and began to pick the +sweet, insipid fruit,--long ivory-colored ber- +ries, tipped with faint pink, like white coral, +that fall to the ground unheeded all summer +through. He dropped a handful into her lap. + + "Do you like Mr. Linstrum?" Marie asked +suddenly. + + "Yes. Don't you?" + + "Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of +staid and school-teachery. But, of course, he is +older than Frank, even. I'm sure I don't want +to live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you +think Alexandra likes him very much?" + + "I suppose so. They were old friends." + + "Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!" Marie +tossed her head impatiently. "Does she really +care about him? When she used to tell me +about him, I always wondered whether she +wasn't a little in love with him." + + "Who, Alexandra?" Emil laughed and +thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. +"Alexandra's never been in love, you crazy!" +He laughed again. "She wouldn't know how +to go about it. The idea!" + + Marie shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you +don't know Alexandra as well as you think +you do! If you had any eyes, you would see +that she is very fond of him. It would serve +you all right if she walked off with Carl. I like +him because he appreciates her more than you +do." + + Emil frowned. "What are you talking about, +Marie? Alexandra's all right. She and I have +always been good friends. What more do you +want? I like to talk to Carl about New York +and what a fellow can do there." + + "Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of +going off there?" + + "Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn't +I?" The young man took up his scythe and +leaned on it. "Would you rather I went off in +the sand hills and lived like Ivar?" + + Marie's face fell under his brooding gaze. She +looked down at his wet leggings. "I'm sure +Alexandra hopes you will stay on here," she +murmured. + + "Then Alexandra will be disappointed," the +young man said roughly. "What do I want to +hang around here for? Alexandra can run the +farm all right, without me. I don't want to +stand around and look on. I want to be doing +something on my own account." + + "That's so," Marie sighed. "There are so +many, many things you can do. Almost any- +thing you choose." + + "And there are so many, many things I can't +do." Emil echoed her tone sarcastically. "Some- +times I don't want to do anything at all, and +sometimes I want to pull the four corners of +the Divide together,"--he threw out his arm +and brought it back with a jerk,--"so, like a +table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses +going up and down, up and down." + + Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her +face clouded. "I wish you weren't so restless, +and didn't get so worked up over things," she +said sadly. + + "Thank you," he returned shortly. + + She sighed despondently. "Everything I say +makes you cross, don't it? And you never used +to be cross to me." + + Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning +down at her bent head. He stood in an attitude +of self-defense, his feet well apart, his hands +clenched and drawn up at his sides, so that the +cords stood out on his bare arms. "I can't play +with you like a little boy any more," he said +slowly. "That's what you miss, Marie. You'll +have to get some other little boy to play with." +He stopped and took a deep breath. Then he +went on in a low tone, so intense that it was +almost threatening: "Sometimes you seem to +understand perfectly, and then sometimes you +pretend you don't. You don't help things any +by pretending. It's then that I want to pull +the corners of the Divide together. If you +WON'T understand, you know, I could make you!" + + Marie clasped her hands and started up from +her seat. She had grown very pale and her eyes +were shining with excitement and distress. +"But, Emil, if I understand, then all our good +times are over, we can never do nice things to- +gether any more. We shall have to behave like +Mr. Linstrum. And, anyhow, there's nothing +to understand!" She struck the ground with +her little foot fiercely. "That won't last. It +will go away, and things will be just as they +used to. I wish you were a Catholic. The +Church helps people, indeed it does. I pray for +you, but that's not the same as if you prayed +yourself." + + She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked +entreatingly into his face. Emil stood defiant, +gazing down at her. + + "I can't pray to have the things I want," he +said slowly, "and I won't pray not to have +them, not if I'm damned for it." + + Marie turned away, wringing her hands. +"Oh, Emil, you won't try! Then all our good +times are over." + + "Yes; over. I never expect to have any +more." + + Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe +and began to mow. Marie took up her cherries +and went slowly toward the house, crying +bitterly. + + + + IX + + + On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl +Linstrum's arrival, he rode with Emil up into +the French country to attend a Catholic fair. +He sat for most of the afternoon in the base- +ment of the church, where the fair was held, +talking to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the +gravel terrace, thrown up on the hillside in +front of the basement doors, where the French +boys were jumping and wrestling and throwing +the discus. Some of the boys were in their +white baseball suits; they had just come up +from a Sunday practice game down in the ball- +grounds. Amedee, the newly married, Emil's +best friend, was their pitcher, renowned among +the country towns for his dash and skill. +Amedee was a little fellow, a year younger than +Emil and much more boyish in appearance; +very lithe and active and neatly made, with a +clear brown and white skin, and flashing white +teeth. The Sainte-Agnes boys were to play the +Hastings nine in a fortnight, and Amedee's +lightning balls were the hope of his team. The +little Frenchman seemed to get every ounce +there was in him behind the ball as it left his +hand. + + "You'd have made the battery at the Univer- +sity for sure, 'Medee," Emil said as they were +walking from the ball-grounds back to the +church on the hill. "You're pitching better +than you did in the spring." + + Amedee grinned. "Sure! A married man +don't lose his head no more." He slapped Emil +on the back as he caught step with him. "Oh, +Emil, you wanna get married right off quick! +It's the greatest thing ever!" + + Emil laughed. "How am I going to get mar- +ried without any girl?" + + Amedee took his arm. "Pooh! There are +plenty girls will have you. You wanna get some +nice French girl, now. She treat you well; +always be jolly. See,"--he began checking off +on his fingers,--"there is Severine, and +Alphosen, and Josephine, and Hectorine, and +Louise, and Malvina--why, I could love any +of them girls! Why don't you get after them? +Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the +matter with you? I never did know a boy +twenty-two years old before that didn't have +no girl. You wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a +for me!" Amedee swaggered. "I bring many +good Catholics into this world, I hope, and +that's a way I help the Church." + + Emil looked down and patted him on the +shoulder. "Now you're windy, 'Medee. You +Frenchies like to brag." + + But Amedee had the zeal of the newly mar- +ried, and he was not to be lightly shaken off. +"Honest and true, Emil, don't you want ANY +girl? Maybe there's some young lady in Lin- +coln, now, very grand,"--Amedee waved his +hand languidly before his face to denote the +fan of heartless beauty,--"and you lost your +heart up there. Is that it?" + + "Maybe," said Emil. + + But Amedee saw no appropriate glow in his +friend's face. "Bah!" he exclaimed in disgust. +"I tell all the French girls to keep 'way from +you. You gotta rock in there," thumping Emil +on the ribs. + + When they reached the terrace at the side of +the church, Amedee, who was excited by his +success on the ball-grounds, challenged Emil +to a jumping-match, though he knew he would +be beaten. They belted themselves up, and +Raoul Marcel, the choir tenor and Father +Duchesne's pet, and Jean Bordelau, held the +string over which they vaulted. All the +French boys stood round, cheering and hump- +ing themselves up when Emil or Amedee went +over the wire, as if they were helping in the lift. +Emil stopped at five-feet-five, declaring that +he would spoil his appetite for supper if he +jumped any more. + + Angelique, Amedee's pretty bride, as blonde +and fair as her name, who had come out to +watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and +said:-- + + "'Medee could jump much higher than you +if he were as tall. And anyhow, he is much more +graceful. He goes over like a bird, and you +have to hump yourself all up." + + "Oh, I do, do I?" Emil caught her and +kissed her saucy mouth squarely, while she +laughed and struggled and called, "'Medee! +'Medee!" + + "There, you see your 'Medee isn't even big +enough to get you away from me. I could run +away with you right now and he could only sit +down and cry about it. I'll show you whether +I have to hump myself!" Laughing and pant- +ing, he picked Angelique up in his arms and +began running about the rectangle with her. +Not until he saw Marie Shabata's tiger eyes +flashing from the gloom of the basement door- +way did he hand the disheveled bride over +to her husband. "There, go to your graceful; +I haven't the heart to take you away from +him." + + Angelique clung to her husband and made +faces at Emil over the white shoulder of +Amedee's ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused +at her air of proprietorship and at Amedee's +shameless submission to it. He was delighted +with his friend's good fortune. He liked to see +and to think about Amedee's sunny, natural, +happy love. + + He and Amedee had ridden and wrestled and +larked together since they were lads of twelve. +On Sundays and holidays they were always +arm in arm. It seemed strange that now he +should have to hide the thing that Amedee was +so proud of, that the feeling which gave one of +them such happiness should bring the other +such despair. It was like that when Alexandra +tested her seed-corn in the spring, he mused. +From two ears that had grown side by side, the +grains of one shot up joyfully into the light, +projecting themselves into the future, and the +grains from the other lay still in the earth and +rotted; and nobody knew why. + + + + X + + + While Emil and Carl were amusing them- +selves at the fair, Alexandra was at home, busy +with her account-books, which had been ne- +glected of late. She was almost through with +her figures when she heard a cart drive up to the +gate, and looking out of the window she saw her +two older brothers. They had seemed to avoid +her ever since Carl Linstrum's arrival, four +weeks ago that day, and she hurried to the +door to welcome them. She saw at once that +they had come with some very definite purpose. +They followed her stiffly into the sitting-room. +Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the +window and remained standing, his hands be- +hind him. + + "You are by yourself?" he asked, looking +toward the doorway into the parlor. + + "Yes. Carl and Emil went up to the Catho- +lic fair." + + For a few moments neither of the men spoke. + + Then Lou came out sharply. "How soon +does he intend to go away from here?" + + "I don't know, Lou. Not for some time, I +hope." Alexandra spoke in an even, quiet tone +that often exasperated her brothers. They felt +that she was trying to be superior with them. + + Oscar spoke up grimly. "We thought we +ought to tell you that people have begun to +talk," he said meaningly. + + Alexandra looked at him. "What about?" + + Oscar met her eyes blankly. "About you, +keeping him here so long. It looks bad for him +to be hanging on to a woman this way. People +think you're getting taken in." + + Alexandra shut her account-book firmly. +"Boys," she said seriously, "don't let's go on +with this. We won't come out anywhere. I +can't take advice on such a matter. I know you +mean well, but you must not feel responsible for +me in things of this sort. If we go on with this +talk it will only make hard feeling." + + Lou whipped about from the window. "You +ought to think a little about your family. +You're making us all ridiculous." + + "How am I?" + + "People are beginning to say you want to +marry the fellow." + + "Well, and what is ridiculous about that?" + + Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. +"Alexandra! Can't you see he's just a tramp +and he's after your money? He wants to be +taken care of, he does!" + + "Well, suppose I want to take care of him? +Whose business is it but my own?" + + "Don't you know he'd get hold of your property?" + + "He'd get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly." + + Oscar sat up suddenly and Lou clutched at +his bristly hair. + + "Give him?" Lou shouted. "Our property, +our homestead?" + + "I don't know about the homestead," said +Alexandra quietly. "I know you and Oscar +have always expected that it would be left to +your children, and I'm not sure but what +you're right. But I'll do exactly as I please +with the rest of my land, boys." + + "The rest of your land!" cried Lou, growing +more excited every minute. "Didn't all the +land come out of the homestead? It was bought +with money borrowed on the homestead, and +Oscar and me worked ourselves to the bone +paying interest on it." + + "Yes, you paid the interest. But when you +married we made a division of the land, and you +were satisfied. I've made more on my farms +since I've been alone than when we all worked +together." + + "Everything you've made has come out of +the original land that us boys worked for, +hasn't it? The farms and all that comes out of +them belongs to us as a family." + + Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. +"Come now, Lou. Stick to the facts. You are +talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and +ask him who owns my land, and whether my +titles are good." + + Lou turned to his brother. "This is what +comes of letting a woman meddle in business," +he said bitterly. "We ought to have taken +things in our own hands years ago. But she +liked to run things, and we humored her. We +thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We +never thought you'd do anything foolish." + + Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk +with her knuckles. "Listen, Lou. Don't talk +wild. You say you ought to have taken things +into your own hands years ago. I suppose you +mean before you left home. But how could you +take hold of what wasn't there? I've got most +of what I have now since we divided the prop- +erty; I've built it up myself, and it has nothing +to do with you." + + Oscar spoke up solemnly. "The property of a +family really belongs to the men of the family, +no matter about the title. If anything goes +wrong, it's the men that are held responsible." + + "Yes, of course," Lou broke in. "Everybody +knows that. Oscar and me have always been +easy-going and we've never made any fuss. +We were willing you should hold the land and +have the good of it, but you got no right to +part with any of it. We worked in the fields +to pay for the first land you bought, and what- +ever's come out of it has got to be kept in the +family." + + Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed +on the one point he could see. "The property +of a family belongs to the men of the family, +because they are held responsible, and because +they do the work." + + Alexandra looked from one to the other, her +eyes full of indignation. She had been impa- +tient before, but now she was beginning to feel +angry. "And what about my work?" she asked +in an unsteady voice. + + Lou looked at the carpet. "Oh, now, Alex- +andra, you always took it pretty easy! Of +course we wanted you to. You liked to manage +round, and we always humored you. We realize +you were a great deal of help to us. There's no +woman anywhere around that knows as much +about business as you do, and we've always +been proud of that, and thought you were +pretty smart. But, of course, the real work +always fell on us. Good advice is all right, but +it don't get the weeds out of the corn." + + "Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the +crop, and it sometimes keeps the fields for corn +to grow in," said Alexandra dryly. "Why, +Lou, I can remember when you and Oscar +wanted to sell this homestead and all the im- +provements to old preacher Ericson for two +thousand dollars. If I'd consented, you'd have +gone down to the river and scraped along on +poor farms for the rest of your lives. When I +put in our first field of alfalfa you both opposed +me, just because I first heard about it from a +young man who had been to the University. +You said I was being taken in then, and all the +neighbors said so. You know as well as I do +that alfalfa has been the salvation of this coun- +try. You all laughed at me when I said our +land here was about ready for wheat, and I had +to raise three big wheat crops before the neigh- +bors quit putting all their land in corn. Why, I +remember you cried, Lou, when we put in the +first big wheat-planting, and said everybody +was laughing at us." + + Lou turned to Oscar. "That's the woman of +it; if she tells you to put in a crop, she thinks +she's put it in. It makes women conceited to +meddle in business. I shouldn't think you'd +want to remind us how hard you were on us, +Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil." + + "Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. +Conditions were hard. Maybe I would never +have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly +didn't choose to be the kind of girl I was. If +you take even a vine and cut it back again and +again, it grows hard, like a tree." + + Lou felt that they were wandering from the +point, and that in digression Alexandra might +unnerve him. He wiped his forehead with a +jerk of his handkerchief. "We never doubted +you, Alexandra. We never questioned any- +thing you did. You've always had your own +way. But you can't expect us to sit like stumps +and see you done out of the property by any +loafer who happens along, and making yourself +ridiculous into the bargain." + + Oscar rose. "Yes," he broke in, "every- +body's laughing to see you get took in; at your +age, too. Everybody knows he's nearly five +years younger than you, and is after your +money. Why, Alexandra, you are forty years old!" + + "All that doesn't concern anybody but Carl +and me. Go to town and ask your lawyers what +you can do to restrain me from disposing of my +own property. And I advise you to do what +they tell you; for the authority you can exert +by law is the only influence you will ever have +over me again." Alexandra rose. "I think I +would rather not have lived to find out what I +have to-day," she said quietly, closing her desk. + + Lou and Oscar looked at each other ques- +tioningly. There seemed to be nothing to do +but to go, and they walked out. + + "You can't do business with women," Oscar +said heavily as he clambered into the cart. +"But anyhow, we've had our say, at last." + + Lou scratched his head. "Talk of that kind +might come too high, you know; but she's apt +to be sensible. You hadn't ought to said that +about her age, though, Oscar. I'm afraid that +hurt her feelings; and the worst thing we can do +is to make her sore at us. She'd marry him out +of contrariness." + + "I only meant," said Oscar, "that she is old +enough to know better, and she is. If she was +going to marry, she ought to done it long ago, +and not go making a fool of herself now." + + Lou looked anxious, nevertheless. "Of +course," he reflected hopefully and incon- +sistently, "Alexandra ain't much like other +women-folks. Maybe it won't make her sore. +Maybe she'd as soon be forty as not!" + + + + XI + + + Emil came home at about half-past seven +o'clock that evening. Old Ivar met him at the +windmill and took his horse, and the young man +went directly into the house. He called to his +sister and she answered from her bedroom, +behind the sitting-room, saying that she was +lying down. + + Emil went to her door. + + "Can I see you for a minute?" he asked. "I +want to talk to you about something before +Carl comes." + + Alexandra rose quickly and came to the door. +"Where is Carl?" + + "Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted +to talk to him, so he rode over to Oscar's with +them. Are you coming out?" Emil asked +impatiently. + + "Yes, sit down. I'll be dressed in a mo- +ment." + + Alexandra closed her door, and Emil sank +down on the old slat lounge and sat with his +head in his hands. When his sister came out, he +looked up, not knowing whether the interval +had been short or long, and he was surprised to +see that the room had grown quite dark. That +was just as well; it would be easier to talk if he +were not under the gaze of those clear, deliber- +ate eyes, that saw so far in some directions and +were so blind in others. Alexandra, too, was +glad of the dusk. Her face was swollen from +crying. + + Emil started up and then sat down again. +"Alexandra," he said slowly, in his deep young +baritone, "I don't want to go away to law +school this fall. Let me put it off another year. +I want to take a year off and look around. It's +awfully easy to rush into a profession you don't +really like, and awfully hard to get out of it. +Linstrum and I have been talking about that." + + "Very well, Emil. Only don't go off looking +for land." She came up and put her hand on his +shoulder. "I've been wishing you could stay +with me this winter." + + "That's just what I don't want to do, Alex- +andra. I'm restless. I want to go to a new place. +I want to go down to the City of Mexico to join +one of the University fellows who's at the head +of an electrical plant. He wrote me he could +give me a little job, enough to pay my way, and +I could look around and see what I want to do. +I want to go as soon as harvest is over. I guess +Lou and Oscar will be sore about it." + + "I suppose they will." Alexandra sat down +on the lounge beside him. "They are very +angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. +They will not come here again." + + Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he +did not notice the sadness of her tone. He was +thinking about the reckless life he meant to live +in Mexico. + + "What about?" he asked absently. + + "About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am +going to marry him, and that some of my +property will get away from them." + + Emil shrugged his shoulders. "What non- +sense!" he murmured. "Just like them." + + Alexandra drew back. "Why nonsense, Emil?" + + "Why, you've never thought of such a thing, +have you? They always have to have something to +fuss about." + + "Emil," said his sister slowly, "you ought +not to take things for granted. Do you agree +with them that I have no right to change my +way of living?" + + Emil looked at the outline of his sister's head +in the dim light. They were sitting close to- +gether and he somehow felt that she could +hear his thoughts. He was silent for a mo- +ment, and then said in an embarrassed tone, +"Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do +whatever you want to. I'll always back you." + + "But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to +you if I married Carl?" + + Emil fidgeted. The issue seemed to him too +far-fetched to warrant discussion. "Why, no. +I should be surprised if you wanted to. I can't +see exactly why. But that's none of my busi- +ness. You ought to do as you please. Certainly +you ought not to pay any attention to what the +boys say." + + Alexandra sighed. "I had hoped you might +understand, a little, why I do want to. But I +suppose that's too much to expect. I've had a +pretty lonely life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is +the only friend I have ever had." + + Emil was awake now; a name in her last sen- +tence roused him. He put out his hand and +took his sister's awkwardly. "You ought to do +just as you wish, and I think Carl's a fine fel- +low. He and I would always get on. I don't +believe any of the things the boys say about +him, honest I don't. They are suspicious of him +because he's intelligent. You know their way. +They've been sore at me ever since you let me +go away to college. They're always trying to +catch me up. If I were you, I wouldn't pay +any attention to them. There's nothing to get +upset about. Carl's a sensible fellow. He won't +mind them." + + "I don't know. If they talk to him the way +they did to me, I think he'll go away." + + Emil grew more and more uneasy. "Think +so? Well, Marie said it would serve us all right +if you walked off with him." + + "Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would." +Alexandra's voice broke. + + Emil began unlacing his leggings. "Why +don't you talk to her about it? There's Carl, I +hear his horse. I guess I'll go upstairs and get +my boots off. No, I don't want any supper. We +had supper at five o'clock, at the fair." + + Emil was glad to escape and get to his own +room. He was a little ashamed for his sister, +though he had tried not to show it. He felt +that there was something indecorous in her +proposal, and she did seem to him somewhat +ridiculous. There was trouble enough in the +world, he reflected, as he threw himself upon +his bed, without people who were forty years +old imagining they wanted to get married. In +the darkness and silence Emil was not likely to +think long about Alexandra. Every image +slipped away but one. He had seen Marie in +the crowd that afternoon. She sold candy at the +fair. WHY had she ever run away with Frank +Shabata, and how could she go on laughing and +working and taking an interest in things? Why +did she like so many people, and why had she +seemed pleased when all the French and Bohe- +mian boys, and the priest himself, crowded +round her candy stand? Why did she care +about any one but him? Why could he never, +never find the thing he looked for in her playful, +affectionate eyes? + + Then he fell to imagining that he looked once +more and found it there, and what it would be +like if she loved him,--she who, as Alexandra +said, could give her whole heart. In that dream +he could lie for hours, as if in a trance. His spirit +went out of his body and crossed the fields to +Marie Shabata. + + At the University dances the girls had often +looked wonderingly at the tall young Swede +with the fine head, leaning against the wall and +frowning, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the +ceiling or the floor. All the girls were a little +afraid of him. He was distinguished-looking, +and not the jollying kind. They felt that he was +too intense and preoccupied. There was some- +thing queer about him. Emil's fraternity +rather prided itself upon its dances, and some- +times he did his duty and danced every dance. +But whether he was on the floor or brooding in a +corner, he was always thinking about Marie +Shabata. For two years the storm had been +gathering in him. + + + + XII + + + Carl came into the sitting-room while Alex- +andra was lighting the lamp. She looked up at +him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp shoul- +ders stooped as if he were very tired, his face +was pale, and there were bluish shadows under +his dark eyes. His anger had burned itself out +and left him sick and disgusted. + + "You have seen Lou and Oscar?" Alexandra +asked. + + "Yes." His eyes avoided hers. + + Alexandra took a deep breath. "And now +you are going away. I thought so." + + Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed +the dark lock back from his forehead with his +white, nervous hand. "What a hopeless posi- +tion you are in, Alexandra!" he exclaimed +feverishly. "It is your fate to be always sur- +rounded by little men. And I am no better than +the rest. I am too little to face the criticism of +even such men as Lou and Oscar. Yes, I am +going away; to-morrow. I cannot even ask you +to give me a promise until I have something to +offer you. I thought, perhaps, I could do that; +but I find I can't." + + "What good comes of offering people things +they don't need?" Alexandra asked sadly. "I +don't need money. But I have needed you for a +great many years. I wonder why I have been +permitted to prosper, if it is only to take my +friends away from me." + + "I don't deceive myself," Carl said frankly. +"I know that I am going away on my own +account. I must make the usual effort. I must +have something to show for myself. To take +what you would give me, I should have to be +either a very large man or a very small one, +and I am only in the middle class." + + Alexandra sighed. "I have a feeling that if +you go away, you will not come back. Some- +thing will happen to one of us, or to both. +People have to snatch at happiness when they +can, in this world. It is always easier to lose +than to find. What I have is yours, if you care +enough about me to take it." + + Carl rose and looked up at the picture of +John Bergson. "But I can't, my dear, I can't! +I will go North at once. Instead of idling about +in California all winter, I shall be getting my +bearings up there. I won't waste another week. +Be patient with me, Alexandra. Give me a +year!" + + "As you will," said Alexandra wearily. "All +at once, in a single day, I lose everything; and I +do not know why. Emil, too, is going away." +Carl was still studying John Bergson's face and +Alexandra's eyes followed his. "Yes," she said, +"if he could have seen all that would come of the +task he gave me, he would have been sorry. I +hope he does not see me now. I hope that he is +among the old people of his blood and country, +and that tidings do not reach him from the +New World." + + + + + + + PART III + + Winter Memories + + + + + I + + + Winter has settled down over the Divide +again; the season in which Nature recuperates, +in which she sinks to sleep between the fruitful- +ness of autumn and the passion of spring. The +birds have gone. The teeming life that goes on +down in the long grass is exterminated. The +prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run +shivering from one frozen garden patch to an- +other and are hard put to it to find frost-bitten +cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes roam the +wintry waste, howling for food. The variegated +fields are all one color now; the pastures, the +stubble, the roads, the sky are the same leaden +gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcely per- +ceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue +they have taken on. The ground is frozen so +hard that it bruises the foot to walk in the roads +or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron +country, and the spirit is oppressed by its rigor +and melancholy. One could easily believe that in +that dead landscape the germs of life and fruit- +fulness were extinct forever. + + Alexandra has settled back into her old +routine. There are weekly letters from Emil. +Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl +went away. To avoid awkward encounters in +the presence of curious spectators, she has +stopped going to the Norwegian Church and +drives up to the Reform Church at Hanover, +or goes with Marie Shabata to the Catholic +Church, locally known as "the French Church." +She has not told Marie about Carl, or her dif- +ferences with her brothers. She was never very +communicative about her own affairs, and +when she came to the point, an instinct told her +that about such things she and Marie would +not understand one another. + + Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family +misunderstandings might deprive her of her +yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day +of December Alexandra telephoned Annie that +to-morrow she would send Ivar over for her +mother, and the next day the old lady arrived +with her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee +had always entered Alexandra's sitting-room +with the same exclamation, "Now we be yust-a +like old times!" She enjoyed the liberty Alex- +andra gave her, and hearing her own language +about her all day long. Here she could wear her +nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, +listen to Ivar reading the Bible, and here she +could run about among the stables in a pair of +Emil's old boots. Though she was bent almost +double, she was as spry as a gopher. Her face +was as brown as if it had been varnished, and as +full of wrinkles as a washerwoman's hands. She +had three jolly old teeth left in the front of her +mouth, and when she grinned she looked very +knowing, as if when you found out how to take +it, life wasn't half bad. While she and Alex- +andra patched and pieced and quilted, she +talked incessantly about stories she read in a +Swedish family paper, telling the plots in great +detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in +Gottland when she was a girl. Sometimes she +forgot which were the printed stories and which +were the real stories, it all seemed so far away. +She loved to take a little brandy, with hot +water and sugar, before she went to bed, and +Alexandra always had it ready for her. "It +sends good dreams," she would say with a +twinkle in her eye. + + When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for +a week, Marie Shabata telephoned one morning +to say that Frank had gone to town for the day, +and she would like them to come over for coffee +in the afternoon. Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out +and iron her new cross-stitched apron, which +she had finished only the night before; a checked +gingham apron worked with a design ten inches +broad across the bottom; a hunting scene, with +fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen. +Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and +refused a second helping of apple dumplings. +"I ta-ank I save up," she said with a giggle. + + At two o'clock in the afternoon Alexandra's +cart drove up to the Shabatas' gate, and Marie +saw Mrs. Lee's red shawl come bobbing up the +path. She ran to the door and pulled the old +woman into the house with a hug, helping her +to take off her wraps while Alexandra blan- +keted the horse outside. Mrs. Lee had put on +her best black satine dress--she abominated +woolen stuffs, even in winter--and a crocheted +collar, fastened with a big pale gold pin, con- +taining faded daguerreotypes of her father and +mother. She had not worn her apron for fear of +rumpling it, and now she shook it out and tied +it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie +drew back and threw up her hands, exclaiming, +"Oh, what a beauty! I've never seen this one +before, have I, Mrs. Lee?" + + The old woman giggled and ducked her head. +"No, yust las' night I ma-ake. See dis tread; +verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My sis- +ter send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like +dis." + + Marie ran to the door again. "Come in, +Alexandra. I have been looking at Mrs. Lee's +apron. Do stop on your way home and show it +to Mrs. Hiller. She's crazy about cross-stitch." + + While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, +Mrs. Lee went out to the kitchen and settled +herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove, +looking with great interest at the table, set for +three, with a white cloth, and a pot of pink +geraniums in the middle. "My, a-an't you +gotta fine plants; such-a much flower. How you +keep from freeze?" + + She pointed to the window-shelves, full of +blooming fuchsias and geraniums. + + "I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when +it's very cold I put them all on the table, in the +middle of the room. Other nights I only put +newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me +for fussing, but when they don't bloom he says, +'What's the matter with the darned things?'-- +What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?" + + "He got to Dawson before the river froze, +and now I suppose I won't hear any more until +spring. Before he left California he sent me a +box of orange flowers, but they didn't keep +very well. I have brought a bunch of Emil's +letters for you." Alexandra came out from the +sitting-room and pinched Marie's cheek play- +fully. "You don't look as if the weather ever +froze you up. Never have colds, do you? +That's a good girl. She had dark red cheeks like +this when she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She +looked like some queer foreign kind of a doll. +I've never forgot the first time I saw you in +Mieklejohn's store, Marie, the time father was +lying sick. Carl and I were talking about that +before he went away." + + "I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. +When are you going to send Emil's Christmas +box?" + + "It ought to have gone before this. I'll have +to send it by mail now, to get it there in time." + + Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from +her workbasket. "I knit this for him. It's a +good color, don't you think? Will you please +put it in with your things and tell him it's from +me, to wear when he goes serenading." + + Alexandra laughed. "I don't believe he goes +serenading much. He says in one letter that +the Mexican ladies are said to be very beauti- +ful, but that don't seem to me very warm +praise." + + Marie tossed her head. "Emil can't fool me. +If he's bought a guitar, he goes serenading. +Who wouldn't, with all those Spanish girls +dropping flowers down from their windows! +I'd sing to them every night, wouldn't you, +Mrs. Lee?" + + The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as +Marie bent down and opened the oven door. +A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the tidy +kitchen. "My, somet'ing smell good!" She +turned to Alexandra with a wink, her three yel- +low teeth making a brave show, "I ta-ank dat +stop my yaw from ache no more!" she said con- +tentedly. + + Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, +stuffed with stewed apricots, and began to dust +them over with powdered sugar. "I hope you'll +like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The +Bohemians always like them with their coffee. +But if you don't, I have a coffee-cake with nuts +and poppy seeds. Alexandra, will you get the +cream jug? I put it in the window to keep +cool." + + "The Bohemians," said Alexandra, as they +drew up to the table, "certainly know how to +make more kinds of bread than any other peo- +ple in the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at +the church supper that she could make seven +kinds of fancy bread, but Marie could make a +dozen." + + Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls +between her brown thumb and forefinger and +weighed it critically. "Yust like-a fedders," +she pronounced with satisfaction. "My, a-an't +dis nice!" she exclaimed as she stirred her +coffee. "I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly now, too, +I ta-ank." + + Alexandra and Marie laughed at her fore- +handedness, and fell to talking of their own +affairs. "I was afraid you had a cold when I +talked to you over the telephone the other +night, Marie. What was the matter, had you +been crying?" + + "Maybe I had," Marie smiled guiltily. +"Frank was out late that night. Don't you get +lonely sometimes in the winter, when every- +body has gone away?" + + "I thought it was something like that. If I +hadn't had company, I'd have run over to see +for myself. If you get down-hearted, what will +become of the rest of us?" Alexandra asked. + + "I don't, very often. There's Mrs. Lee +without any coffee!" + + Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her +powers were spent, Marie and Alexandra went +upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the +old lady wanted to borrow. "Better put on +your coat, Alexandra. It's cold up there, and I +have no idea where those patterns are. I may +have to look through my old trunks." Marie +caught up a shawl and opened the stair door, run- +ning up the steps ahead of her guest. "While I +go through the bureau drawers, you might look +in those hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over +where Frank's clothes hang. There are a lot +of odds and ends in them." + + She began tossing over the contents of the +drawers, and Alexandra went into the clothes- +closet. Presently she came back, holding a +slender elastic yellow stick in her hand. + + "What in the world is this, Marie? You +don't mean to tell me Frank ever carried such +a thing?" + + Marie blinked at it with astonishment and +sat down on the floor. "Where did you find it? +I didn't know he had kept it. I haven't seen +it for years." + + "It really is a cane, then?" + + "Yes. One he brought from the old coun- +try. He used to carry it when I first knew him. +Isn't it foolish? Poor Frank!" + + Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and +laughed. "He must have looked funny!" + + Marie was thoughtful. "No, he didn't, really. +It didn't seem out of place. He used to be +awfully gay like that when he was a young +man. I guess people always get what's hard- +est for them, Alexandra." Marie gathered the +shawl closer about her and still looked hard at +the cane. "Frank would be all right in the right +place," she said reflectively. "He ought to +have a different kind of wife, for one thing. Do +you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly +the right sort of woman for Frank--now. +The trouble is you almost have to marry a man +before you can find out the sort of wife he +needs; and usually it's exactly the sort you are +not. Then what are you going to do about it?" +she asked candidly. + + Alexandra confessed she didn't know. +"However," she added, "it seems to me that +you get along with Frank about as well as any +woman I've ever seen or heard of could." + + Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and +blowing her warm breath softly out into the +frosty air. "No; I was spoiled at home. I like +my own way, and I have a quick tongue. When +Frank brags, I say sharp things, and he never +forgets. He goes over and over it in his mind; +I can feel him. Then I'm too giddy. Frank's +wife ought to be timid, and she ought not to +care about another living thing in the world but +just Frank! I didn't, when I married him, but +I suppose I was too young to stay like that." +Marie sighed. + + Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so +frankly about her husband before, and she felt +that it was wiser not to encourage her. No +good, she reasoned, ever came from talking +about such things, and while Marie was think- +ing aloud, Alexandra had been steadily search- +ing the hat-boxes. "Aren't these the pat- +terns, Maria?" + + Maria sprang up from the floor. "Sure +enough, we were looking for patterns, weren't +we? I'd forgot about everything but Frank's +other wife. I'll put that away." + + She poked the cane behind Frank's Sunday +clothes, and though she laughed, Alexandra saw +there were tears in her eyes. + + When they went back to the kitchen, the +snow had begun to fall, and Marie's visitors +thought they must be getting home. She went +out to the cart with them, and tucked the robes +about old Mrs. Lee while Alexandra took the +blanket off her horse. As they drove away, +Marie turned and went slowly back to the +house. She took up the package of letters +Alexandra had brought, but she did not read +them. She turned them over and looked at the +foreign stamps, and then sat watching the fly- +ing snow while the dusk deepened in the kitchen +and the stove sent out a red glow. + + Marie knew perfectly well that Emil's letters +were written more for her than for Alexandra. +They were not the sort of letters that a young +man writes to his sister. They were both more +personal and more painstaking; full of descrip- +tions of the gay life in the old Mexican capital +in the days when the strong hand of Porfirio +Diaz was still strong. He told about bull-fights +and cock-fights, churches and FIESTAS, the flower- +markets and the fountains, the music and dan- +cing, the people of all nations he met in the +Italian restaurants on San Francisco Street. In +short, they were the kind of letters a young man +writes to a woman when he wishes himself and +his life to seem interesting to her, when he +wishes to enlist her imagination in his behalf. + + Marie, when she was alone or when she sat +sewing in the evening, often thought about +what it must be like down there where Emil +was; where there were flowers and street bands +everywhere, and carriages rattling up and +down, and where there was a little blind boot- +black in front of the cathedral who could play +any tune you asked for by dropping the lids +of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When +everything is done and over for one at twenty- +three, it is pleasant to let the mind wander +forth and follow a young adventurer who has +life before him. "And if it had not been for +me," she thought, "Frank might still be free +like that, and having a good time making peo- +ple admire him. Poor Frank, getting married +wasn't very good for him either. I'm afraid I +do set people against him, as he says. I seem, +somehow, to give him away all the time. Per- +haps he would try to be agreeable to people +again, if I were not around. It seems as if I +always make him just as bad as he can be." + + Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back +upon that afternoon as the last satisfactory +visit she had had with Marie. After that day +the younger woman seemed to shrink more and +more into herself. When she was with Alexan- +dra she was not spontaneous and frank as she +used to be. She seemed to be brooding over +something, and holding something back. The +weather had a good deal to do with their seeing +less of each other than usual. There had not been +such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path +across the fields was drifted deep from Christ- +mas until March. When the two neighbors went +to see each other, they had to go round by the +wagon-road, which was twice as far. They tele- +phoned each other almost every night, though +in January there was a stretch of three weeks +when the wires were down, and when the post- +man did not come at all. + + Marie often ran in to see her nearest neigh- +bor, old Mrs. Hiller, who was crippled with +rheumatism and had only her son, the lame +shoemaker, to take care of her; and she went to +the French Church, whatever the weather. She +was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed for her- +self and for Frank, and for Emil, among the +temptations of that gay, corrupt old city. She +found more comfort in the Church that winter +than ever before. It seemed to come closer to +her, and to fill an emptiness that ached in her +heart. She tried to be patient with her hus- +band. He and his hired man usually played Cal- +ifornia Jack in the evening. Marie sat sew- +ing or crocheting and tried to take a friendly +interest in the game, but she was always +thinking about the wide fields outside, where +the snow was drifting over the fences; and +about the orchard, where the snow was falling +and packing, crust over crust. When she went +out into the dark kitchen to fix her plants +for the night, she used to stand by the window +and look out at the white fields, or watch the +currents of snow whirling over the orchard. +She seemed to feel the weight of all the snow +that lay down there. The branches had be- +come so hard that they wounded your hand if +you but tried to break a twig. And yet, down +under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the +trees, the secret of life was still safe, warm +as the blood in one's heart; and the spring +would come again! Oh, it would come again! + + + + II + + + If Alexandra had had much imagination she +might have guessed what was going on in +Marie's mind, and she would have seen long +before what was going on in Emil's. But that, +as Emil himself had more than once reflected, +was Alexandra's blind side, and her life had not +been of the kind to sharpen her vision. Her +training had all been toward the end of making +her proficient in what she had undertaken to do. +Her personal life, her own realization of herself, +was almost a subconscious existence; like an +underground river that came to the surface only +here and there, at intervals months apart, and +then sank again to flow on under her own fields. +Nevertheless, the underground stream was +there, and it was because she had so much per- +sonality to put into her enterprises and suc- +ceeded in putting it into them so completely, +that her affairs prospered better than those of +her neighbors. + + There were certain days in her life, out- +wardly uneventful, which Alexandra remem- +bered as peculiarly happy; days when she was +close to the flat, fallow world about her, and +felt, as it were, in her own body the joyous +germination in the soil. There were days, +too, which she and Emil had spent together, +upon which she loved to look back. There +had been such a day when they were down +on the river in the dry year, looking over the +land. They had made an early start one +morning and had driven a long way before +noon. When Emil said he was hungry, they +drew back from the road, gave Brigham his +oats among the bushes, and climbed up to the +top of a grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the +shade of some little elm trees. The river was +clear there, and shallow, since there had been +no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling +sand. Under the overhanging willows of the +opposite bank there was an inlet where the +water was deeper and flowed so slowly that it +seemed to sleep in the sun. In this little bay a +single wild duck was swimming and diving and +preening her feathers, disporting herself very +happily in the flickering light and shade. They +sat for a long time, watching the solitary bird +take its pleasure. No living thing had ever +seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild +duck. Emil must have felt about it as she did, +for afterward, when they were at home, he used +sometimes to say, "Sister, you know our duck +down there--" Alexandra remembered that +day as one of the happiest in her life. Years +afterward she thought of the duck as still there, +swimming and diving all by herself in the sun- +light, a kind of enchanted bird that did not +know age or change. + + Most of Alexandra's happy memories were as +impersonal as this one; yet to her they were +very personal. Her mind was a white book, +with clear writing about weather and beasts and +growing things. Not many people would have +cared to read it; only a happy few. She had +never been in love, she had never indulged in +sentimental reveries. Even as a girl she had +looked upon men as work-fellows. She had +grown up in serious times. + + There was one fancy indeed, which persisted +through her girlhood. It most often came to +her on Sunday mornings, the one day in the +week when she lay late abed listening to the +familiar morning sounds; the windmill singing +in the brisk breeze, Emil whistling as he blacked +his boots down by the kitchen door. Some- +times, as she lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes +closed, she used to have an illusion of being +lifted up bodily and carried lightly by some one +very strong. It was a man, certainly, who car- +ried her, but he was like no man she knew; he +was much larger and stronger and swifter, and +he carried her as easily as if she were a sheaf +of wheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes +closed, she could feel that he was yellow like the +sunlight, and there was the smell of ripe corn- +fields about him. She could feel him approach, +bend over her and lift her, and then she could +feel herself being carried swiftly off across the +fields. After such a reverie she would rise has- +tily, angry with herself, and go down to the +bath-house that was partitioned off the kitchen +shed. There she would stand in a tin tub and +prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by +pouring buckets of cold well-water over her +gleaming white body which no man on the +Divide could have carried very far. + + As she grew older, this fancy more often +came to her when she was tired than when she +was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had +been in the open all day, overseeing the brand- +ing of the cattle or the loading of the pigs, she +would come in chilled, take a concoction of +spices and warm home-made wine, and go to bed +with her body actually aching with fatigue. +Then, just before she went to sleep, she had +the old sensation of being lifted and carried by +a strong being who took from her all her bodily +weariness. + + + + + + + PART IV + + The White Mulberry Tree + + + + + I + + + The French Church, properly the Church of +Sainte-Agnes, stood upon a hill. The high, nar- +row, red-brick building, with its tall steeple and +steep roof, could be seen for miles across the +wheatfields, though the little town of Sainte- +Agnes was completely hidden away at the foot +of the hill. The church looked powerful and +triumphant there on its eminence, so high above +the rest of the landscape, with miles of warm +color lying at its feet, and by its position and +setting it reminded one of some of the churches +built long ago in the wheat-lands of middle +France. + + Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson +was driving along one of the many roads that +led through the rich French farming country to +the big church. The sunlight was shining di- +rectly in her face, and there was a blaze of light +all about the red church on the hill. Beside +Alexandra lounged a strikingly exotic figure in a +tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, and a black vel- +vet jacket sewn with silver buttons. Emil had +returned only the night before, and his sister +was so proud of him that she decided at once +to take him up to the church supper, and to +make him wear the Mexican costume he had +brought home in his trunk. "All the girls who +have stands are going to wear fancy costumes," +she argued, "and some of the boys. Marie is +going to tell fortunes, and she sent to Omaha +for a Bohemian dress her father brought back +from a visit to the old country. If you wear +those clothes, they will all be pleased. And you +must take your guitar. Everybody ought to do +what they can to help along, and we have never +done much. We are not a talented family." + + The supper was to be at six o'clock, in the +basement of the church, and afterward there +would be a fair, with charades and an auction. +Alexandra had set out from home early, leaving +the house to Signa and Nelse Jensen, who were to +be married next week. Signa had shyly asked to +have the wedding put off until Emil came home. + + Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. +As they drove through the rolling French coun- +try toward the westering sun and the stalwart +church, she was thinking of that time long ago +when she and Emil drove back from the river +valley to the still unconquered Divide. Yes, +she told herself, it had been worth while; both +Emil and the country had become what she had +hoped. Out of her father's children there was +one who was fit to cope with the world, who had +not been tied to the plow, and who had a per- +sonality apart from the soil. And that, she +reflected, was what she had worked for. She +felt well satisfied with her life. + + When they reached the church, a score of +teams were hitched in front of the basement +doors that opened from the hillside upon the +sanded terrace, where the boys wrestled and had +jumping-matches. Amedee Chevalier, a proud +father of one week, rushed out and embraced +Emil. Amedee was an only son,--hence he +was a very rich young man,--but he meant to +have twenty children himself, like his uncle +Xavier. "Oh, Emil," he cried, hugging his old +friend rapturously, "why ain't you been up to +see my boy? You come to-morrow, sure? +Emil, you wanna get a boy right off! It's the +greatest thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick +at all. Everything just fine. That boy he come +into this world laughin', and he been laughin' +ever since. You come an' see!" He pounded +Emil's ribs to emphasize each announcement. + + Emil caught his arms. "Stop, Amedee. +You're knocking the wind out of me. I brought +him cups and spoons and blankets and mocca- +sins enough for an orphan asylum. I'm awful +glad it's a boy, sure enough!" + + The young men crowded round Emil to ad- +mire his costume and to tell him in a breath +everything that had happened since he went +away. Emil had more friends up here in the +French country than down on Norway Creek. +The French and Bohemian boys were spirited +and jolly, liked variety, and were as much pre- +disposed to favor anything new as the Scandi- +navian boys were to reject it. The Norwegian +and Swedish lads were much more self-centred, +apt to be egotistical and jealous. They were +cautious and reserved with Emil because he +had been away to college, and were prepared +to take him down if he should try to put on +airs with them. The French boys liked a bit +of swagger, and they were always delighted to +hear about anything new: new clothes, new +games, new songs, new dances. Now they car- +ried Emil off to show him the club room they +had just fitted up over the post-office, down in +the village. They ran down the hill in a drove, +all laughing and chattering at once, some in +French, some in English. + + Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed +basement where the women were setting the +tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building +a little tent of shawls where she was to tell +fortunes. She sprang down and ran toward +Alexandra, stopping short and looking at her +in disappointment. Alexandra nodded to her +encouragingly. + + "Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have +taken him off to show him something. You +won't know him. He is a man now, sure enough. +I have no boy left. He smokes terrible-smelling +Mexican cigarettes and talks Spanish. How +pretty you look, child. Where did you get those +beautiful earrings?" + + "They belonged to father's mother. He +always promised them to me. He sent them +with the dress and said I could keep them." + + Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven +cloth, a white bodice and kirtle, a yellow silk +turban wound low over her brown curls, and +long coral pendants in her ears. Her ears had +been pierced against a piece of cork by her +great-aunt when she was seven years old. In +those germless days she had worn bits of broom- +straw, plucked from the common sweeping- +broom, in the lobes until the holes were healed +and ready for little gold rings. + + When Emil came back from the village, he +lingered outside on the terrace with the boys. +Marie could hear him talking and strumming +on his guitar while Raoul Marcel sang falsetto. +She was vexed with him for staying out there. +It made her very nervous to hear him and not +to see him; for, certainly, she told herself, she +was not going out to look for him. When the +supper bell rang and the boys came trooping in +to get seats at the first table, she forgot all +about her annoyance and ran to greet the tall- +est of the crowd, in his conspicuous attire. She +didn't mind showing her embarrassment at all. +She blushed and laughed excitedly as she gave +Emil her hand, and looked delightedly at the +black velvet coat that brought out his fair skin +and fine blond head. Marie was incapable of +being lukewarm about anything that pleased +her. She simply did not know how to give a +half-hearted response. When she was de- +lighted, she was as likely as not to stand on +her tip-toes and clap her hands. If people +laughed at her, she laughed with them. + + "Do the men wear clothes like that every +day, in the street?" She caught Emil by his +sleeve and turned him about. "Oh, I wish I +lived where people wore things like that! Are +the buttons real silver? Put on the hat, please. +What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear +it? Why don't you tell us about the bull- +fights?" + + She wanted to wring all his experiences from +him at once, without waiting a moment. Emil +smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at her +with his old, brooding gaze, while the French +girls fluttered about him in their white dresses +and ribbons, and Alexandra watched the scene +with pride. Several of the French girls, Marie +knew, were hoping that Emil would take them +to supper, and she was relieved when he took +only his sister. Marie caught Frank's arm and +dragged him to the same table, managing to get +seats opposite the Bergsons, so that she could +hear what they were talking about. Alexandra +made Emil tell Mrs. Xavier Chevalier, the +mother of the twenty, about how he had seen a +famous matador killed in the bull-ring. Marie +listened to every word, only taking her eyes +from Emil to watch Frank's plate and keep it +filled. When Emil finished his account,-- +bloody enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier and to +make her feel thankful that she was not a +matador,--Marie broke out with a volley of +questions. How did the women dress when +they went to bull-fights? Did they wear man- +tillas? Did they never wear hats? + + After supper the young people played char- +ades for the amusement of their elders, who sat +gossiping between their guesses. All the shops +in Sainte-Agnes were closed at eight o'clock +that night, so that the merchants and their +clerks could attend the fair. The auction was +the liveliest part of the entertainment, for the +French boys always lost their heads when they +began to bid, satisfied that their extravagance +was in a good cause. After all the pincushions +and sofa pillows and embroidered slippers were +sold, Emil precipitated a panic by taking out +one of his turquoise shirt studs, which every one +had been admiring, and handing it to the auc- +tioneer. All the French girls clamored for it, +and their sweethearts bid against each other +recklessly. Marie wanted it, too, and she kept +making signals to Frank, which he took a sour +pleasure in disregarding. He didn't see the use +of making a fuss over a fellow just because he +was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise +went to Malvina Sauvage, the French banker's +daughter, Marie shrugged her shoulders and +betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where +she began to shuffle her cards by the light of +a tallow candle, calling out, "Fortunes, for- +tunes!" + + The young priest, Father Duchesne, went +first to have his fortune read. Marie took his +long white hand, looked at it, and then began to +run off her cards. "I see a long journey across +water for you, Father. You will go to a town +all cut up by water; built on islands, it seems to +be, with rivers and green fields all about. And +you will visit an old lady with a white cap and +gold hoops in her ears, and you will be very +happy there." + + "Mais, oui," said the priest, with a melan- +choly smile. "C'est L'Isle-Adam, chez ma +mere. Vous etes tres savante, ma fille." He +patted her yellow turban, calling, "Venez +donc, mes garcons! Il y a ici une veritable +clairvoyante!" + + Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulg- +ing in a light irony that amused the crowd. She +told old Brunot, the miser, that he would lose +all his money, marry a girl of sixteen, and live +happily on a crust. Sholte, the fat Russian +boy, who lived for his stomach, was to be disap- +pointed in love, grow thin, and shoot himself +from despondency. Amedee was to have +twenty children, and nineteen of them were to +be girls. Amedee slapped Frank on the back +and asked him why he didn't see what the +fortune-teller would promise him. But Frank +shook off his friendly hand and grunted, "She +tell my fortune long ago; bad enough!" Then +he withdrew to a corner and sat glowering at +his wife. + + Frank's case was all the more painful because +he had no one in particular to fix his jealousy +upon. Sometimes he could have thanked the +man who would bring him evidence against his +wife. He had discharged a good farm-boy, Jan +Smirka, because he thought Marie was fond of +him; but she had not seemed to miss Jan when +he was gone, and she had been just as kind to +the next boy. The farm-hands would always do +anything for Marie; Frank couldn't find one so +surly that he would not make an effort to please +her. At the bottom of his heart Frank knew +well enough that if he could once give up his +grudge, his wife would come back to him. But +he could never in the world do that. The grudge +was fundamental. Perhaps he could not have +given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he got more +satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than +he would have got out of being loved. If he +could once have made Marie thoroughly un- +happy, he might have relented and raised her +from the dust. But she had never humbled her- +self. In the first days of their love she had been +his slave; she had admired him abandonedly. +But the moment he began to bully her and to be +unjust, she began to draw away; at first in tear- +ful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken dis- +gust. The distance between them had widened +and hardened. It no longer contracted and +brought them suddenly together. The spark of +her life went somewhere else, and he was always +watching to surprise it. He knew that some- +where she must get a feeling to live upon, for +she was not a woman who could live without +loving. He wanted to prove to himself the +wrong he felt. What did she hide in her heart? +Where did it go? Even Frank had his churlish +delicacies; he never reminded her of how much +she had once loved him. For that Marie was +grateful to him. + + While Marie was chattering to the French +boys, Amedee called Emil to the back of the +room and whispered to him that they were going +to play a joke on the girls. At eleven o'clock, +Amedee was to go up to the switchboard in the +vestibule and turn off the electric lights, and +every boy would have a chance to kiss his +sweetheart before Father Duchesne could find +his way up the stairs to turn the current on +again. The only difficulty was the candle in +Marie's tent; perhaps, as Emil had no sweet- +heart, he would oblige the boys by blowing out +the candle. Emil said he would undertake to do +that. + + At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to +Marie's booth, and the French boys dispersed +to find their girls. He leaned over the card- +table and gave himself up to looking at her. +"Do you think you could tell my fortune?" +he murmured. It was the first word he had +had alone with her for almost a year. "My +luck hasn't changed any. It's just the same." + + Marie had often wondered whether there +was anyone else who could look his thoughts +to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met +his steady, powerful eyes, it was impossible +not to feel the sweetness of the dream he was +dreaming; it reached her before she could shut +it out, and hid itself in her heart. She began +to shuffle her cards furiously. "I'm angry +with you, Emil," she broke out with petu- +lance. "Why did you give them that lovely +blue stone to sell? You might have known +Frank wouldn't buy it for me, and I wanted it +awfully!" + + Emil laughed shortly. "People who want +such little things surely ought to have them," +he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the +pocket of his velvet trousers and brought out a +handful of uncut turquoises, as big as marbles. +Leaning over the table he dropped them into +her lap. "There, will those do? Be careful, +don't let any one see them. Now, I suppose you +want me to go away and let you play with +them?" + + Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue +color of the stones. "Oh, Emil! Is everything +down there beautiful like these? How could you +ever come away?" + + At that instant Amedee laid hands on the +switchboard. There was a shiver and a giggle, +and every one looked toward the red blur that +Marie's candle made in the dark. Immediately +that, too, was gone. Little shrieks and currents +of soft laughter ran up and down the dark hall. +Marie started up,--directly into Emil's arms. +In the same instant she felt his lips. The veil +that had hung uncertainly between them for so +long was dissolved. Before she knew what she +was doing, she had committed herself to that +kiss that was at once a boy's and a man's, as +timid as it was tender; so like Emil and so +unlike any one else in the world. Not until it +was over did she realize what it meant. And +Emil, who had so often imagined the shock of +this first kiss, was surprised at its gentleness +and naturalness. It was like a sigh which they +had breathed together; almost sorrowful, as if +each were afraid of wakening something in the +other. + + When the lights came on again, everybody +was laughing and shouting, and all the French +girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only +Marie, in her little tent of shawls, was pale and +quiet. Under her yellow turban the red coral +pendants swung against white cheeks. Frank +was still staring at her, but he seemed to see +nothing. Years ago, he himself had had the +power to take the blood from her cheeks like +that. Perhaps he did not remember--perhaps +he had never noticed! Emil was already at the +other end of the hall, walking about with the +shoulder-motion he had acquired among the +Mexicans, studying the floor with his intent, +deep-set eyes. Marie began to take down and +fold her shawls. She did not glance up again. +The young people drifted to the other end of the +hall where the guitar was sounding. In a mo- +ment she heard Emil and Raoul singing:-- + + + "Across the Rio Grand-e + There lies a sunny land-e, + My bright-eyed Mexico!" + + + Alexandra Bergson came up to the card +booth. "Let me help you, Marie. You look +tired." + + She placed her hand on Marie's arm and felt +her shiver. Marie stiffened under that kind, +calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed +and hurt. + + There was about Alexandra something of the +impervious calm of the fatalist, always discon- +certing to very young people, who cannot feel +that the heart lives at all unless it is still at the +mercy of storms; unless its strings can scream +to the touch of pain. + + + + II + + + Signa's wedding supper was over. The +guests, and the tiresome little Norwegian +preacher who had performed the marriage cere- +mony, were saying good-night. Old Ivar was +hitching the horses to the wagon to take the +wedding presents and the bride and groom up to +their new home, on Alexandra's north quarter. +When Ivar drove up to the gate, Emil and +Marie Shabata began to carry out the presents, +and Alexandra went into her bedroom to bid +Signa good-bye and to give her a few words of +good counsel. She was surprised to find that +the bride had changed her slippers for heavy +shoes and was pinning up her skirts. At that +moment Nelse appeared at the gate with the +two milk cows that Alexandra had given Signa +for a wedding present. + + Alexandra began to laugh. "Why, Signa, +you and Nelse are to ride home. I'll send Ivar +over with the cows in the morning." + + Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When +her husband called her, she pinned her hat on +resolutely. "I ta-ank I better do yust like he +say," she murmured in confusion. + + Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to +the gate and saw the party set off, old Ivar +driving ahead in the wagon and the bride and +groom following on foot, each leading a cow. +Emil burst into a laugh before they were out of +hearing. + + "Those two will get on," said Alexandra as +they turned back to the house. "They are not +going to take any chances. They will feel safer +with those cows in their own stable. Marie, I +am going to send for an old woman next. As +soon as I get the girls broken in, I marry them +off." + + "I've no patience with Signa, marrying that +grumpy fellow!" Marie declared. "I wanted +her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked +for us last winter. I think she liked him, too." + + "Yes, I think she did," Alexandra assented, +"but I suppose she was too much afraid of +Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think +of it, most of my girls have married men they +were afraid of. I believe there is a good deal of +the cow in most Swedish girls. You high-strung +Bohemian can't understand us. We're a ter- +ribly practical people, and I guess we think a +cross man makes a good manager." + + Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to +pin up a lock of hair that had fallen on her neck. +Somehow Alexandra had irritated her of late. +Everybody irritated her. She was tired of +everybody. "I'm going home alone, Emil, so you +needn't get your hat," she said as she wound +her scarf quickly about her head. "Good-night, +Alexandra," she called back in a strained voice, +running down the gravel walk. + + Emil followed with long strides until he over- +took her. Then she began to walk slowly. It +was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, +and the fireflies were glimmering over the wheat. + + "Marie," said Emil after they had walked +for a while, "I wonder if you know how un- +happy I am?" + + Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its +white scarf, drooped forward a little. + + Emil kicked a clod from the path and went +on:-- + + "I wonder whether you are really shallow- +hearted, like you seem? Sometimes I think one +boy does just as well as another for you. It never +seems to make much difference whether it is me +or Raoul Marcel or Jan Smirka. Are you really +like that?" + + "Perhaps I am. What do you want me to +do? Sit round and cry all day? When I've +cried until I can't cry any more, then--then I +must do something else." + + "Are you sorry for me?" he persisted. + + "No, I'm not. If I were big and free like you, +I wouldn't let anything make me unhappy. As +old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, I wouldn't +go lovering after no woman. I'd take the first +train and go off and have all the fun there is." + + "I tried that, but it didn't do any good. +Everything reminded me. The nicer the place +was, the more I wanted you." They had come +to the stile and Emil pointed to it persuasively. +"Sit down a moment, I want to ask you some- +thing." Marie sat down on the top step and +Emil drew nearer. "Would you tell me some- +thing that's none of my business if you thought +it would help me out? Well, then, tell me, PLEASE +tell me, why you ran away with Frank Sha- +bata!" + + Marie drew back. "Because I was in love +with him," she said firmly. + + "Really?" he asked incredulously. + + "Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. +I think I was the one who suggested our run- +ning away. From the first it was more my fault +than his." + + Emil turned away his face. + + "And now," Marie went on, "I've got to +remember that. Frank is just the same now as +he was then, only then I would see him as I +wanted him to be. I would have my own way. +And now I pay for it." + + "You don't do all the paying." + + "That's it. When one makes a mistake, +there's no telling where it will stop. But you +can go away; you can leave all this behind +you." + + "Not everything. I can't leave you behind. +Will you go away with me, Marie?" + + Marie started up and stepped across the +stile. "Emil! How wickedly you talk! I am +not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But +what am I going to do if you keep tormenting +me like this!" she added plaintively. + + "Marie, I won't bother you any more if you +will tell me just one thing. Stop a minute and +look at me. No, nobody can see us. Every- +body's asleep. That was only a firefly. Marie, +STOP and tell me!" + + Emil overtook her and catching her by the +shoulders shook her gently, as if he were trying +to awaken a sleepwalker. + + Marie hid her face on his arm. "Don't ask +me anything more. I don't know anything +except how miserable I am. And I thought it +would be all right when you came back. Oh, +Emil," she clutched his sleeve and began to +cry, "what am I to do if you don't go away? I +can't go, and one of us must. Can't you see?" + + Emil stood looking down at her, holding his +shoulders stiff and stiffening the arm to which +she clung. Her white dress looked gray in the +darkness. She seemed like a troubled spirit, +like some shadow out of the earth, clinging to +him and entreating him to give her peace. Be- +hind her the fireflies were weaving in and out +over the wheat. He put his hand on her bent +head. "On my honor, Marie, if you will say +you love me, I will go away." + + She lifted her face to his. "How could I help +it? Didn't you know?" + + Emil was the one who trembled, through all +his frame. After he left Marie at her gate, he +wandered about the fields all night, till morning +put out the fireflies and the stars. + + + + III + + + One evening, a week after Signa's wedding, +Emil was kneeling before a box in the sitting- +room, packing his books. From time to time he +rose and wandered about the house, picking up +stray volumes and bringing them listlessly back +to his box. He was packing without enthusi- +asm. He was not very sanguine about his fu- +ture. Alexandra sat sewing by the table. She +had helped him pack his trunk in the afternoon. +As Emil came and went by her chair with his +books, he thought to himself that it had not +been so hard to leave his sister since he first +went away to school. He was going directly to +Omaha, to read law in the office of a Swedish +lawyer until October, when he would enter the +law school at Ann Arbor. They had planned +that Alexandra was to come to Michigan--a +long journey for her--at Christmas time, and +spend several weeks with him. Nevertheless, he +felt that this leavetaking would be more final +than his earlier ones had been; that it meant a +definite break with his old home and the begin- +ning of something new--he did not know +what. His ideas about the future would not +crystallize; the more he tried to think about it, +the vaguer his conception of it became. But +one thing was clear, he told himself; it was +high time that he made good to Alexandra, +and that ought to be incentive enough to begin +with. + + As he went about gathering up his books he +felt as if he were uprooting things. At last he +threw himself down on the old slat lounge where +he had slept when he was little, and lay looking +up at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. + + "Tired, Emil?" his sister asked. + + "Lazy," he murmured, turning on his side +and looking at her. He studied Alexandra's +face for a long time in the lamplight. It had +never occurred to him that his sister was a +handsome woman until Marie Shabata had +told him so. Indeed, he had never thought of +her as being a woman at all, only a sister. As +he studied her bent head, he looked up at the +picture of John Bergson above the lamp. +"No," he thought to himself, "she didn't get +it there. I suppose I am more like that." + + "Alexandra," he said suddenly, "that old +walnut secretary you use for a desk was +father's, wasn't it?" + + Alexandra went on stitching. "Yes. It was +one of the first things he bought for the old log +house. It was a great extravagance in those +days. But he wrote a great many letters back +to the old country. He had many friends there, +and they wrote to him up to the time he died. +No one ever blamed him for grandfather's dis- +grace. I can see him now, sitting there on Sun- +days, in his white shirt, writing pages and +pages, so carefully. He wrote a fine, regular +hand, almost like engraving. Yours is some- +thing like his, when you take pains." + + "Grandfather was really crooked, was he?" + + "He married an unscrupulous woman, and +then--then I'm afraid he was really crooked. +When we first came here father used to have +dreams about making a great fortune and going +back to Sweden to pay back to the poor sailors +the money grandfather had lost." + + Emil stirred on the lounge. "I say, that +would have been worth while, wouldn't it? +Father wasn't a bit like Lou or Oscar, was he? +I can't remember much about him before he +got sick." + + "Oh, not at all!" Alexandra dropped her +sewing on her knee. "He had better opportuni- +ties; not to make money, but to make some- +thing of himself. He was a quiet man, but he +was very intelligent. You would have been +proud of him, Emil." + + Alexandra felt that he would like to know +there had been a man of his kin whom he +could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed +of Lou and Oscar, because they were bigoted +and self-satisfied. He never said much about +them, but she could feel his disgust. His +brothers had shown their disapproval of him +ever since he first went away to school. The +only thing that would have satisfied them +would have been his failure at the University. +As it was, they resented every change in his +speech, in his dress, in his point of view; though +the latter they had to conjecture, for Emil +avoided talking to them about any but family +matters. All his interests they treated as +affectations. + + Alexandra took up her sewing again. "I can +remember father when he was quite a young +man. He belonged to some kind of a musical +society, a male chorus, in Stockholm. I can +remember going with mother to hear them sing. +There must have been a hundred of them, and +they all wore long black coats and white neck- +ties. I was used to seeing father in a blue coat, +a sort of jacket, and when I recognized him +on the platform, I was very proud. Do you +remember that Swedish song he taught you, +about the ship boy?" + + "Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. +They like anything different." Emil paused. +"Father had a hard fight here, didn't he?" he +added thoughtfully. + + "Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he +had hope. He believed in the land." + + "And in you, I guess," Emil said to himself. +There was another period of silence; that warm, +friendly silence, full of perfect understanding, +in which Emil and Alexandra had spent many +of their happiest half-hours. + + At last Emil said abruptly, "Lou and Oscar +would be better off if they were poor, wouldn't +they?" + + Alexandra smiled. "Maybe. But their chil- +dren wouldn't. I have great hopes of Milly." + + Emil shivered. "I don't know. Seems to me +it gets worse as it goes on. The worst of the +Swedes is that they're never willing to find out +how much they don't know. It was like that at +the University. Always so pleased with them- +selves! There's no getting behind that con- +ceited Swedish grin. The Bohemians and Ger- +mans were so different." + + "Come, Emil, don't go back on your own +people. Father wasn't conceited, Uncle Otto +wasn't. Even Lou and Oscar weren't when +they were boys." + + Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dis- +pute the point. He turned on his back and lay +still for a long time, his hands locked under his +head, looking up at the ceiling. Alexandra +knew that he was thinking of many things. She +felt no anxiety about Emil. She had always +believed in him, as she had believed in the +land. He had been more like himself since he +got back from Mexico; seemed glad to be at +home, and talked to her as he used to do. +She had no doubt that his wandering fit was +over, and that he would soon be settled in +life. + + "Alexandra," said Emil suddenly, "do you +remember the wild duck we saw down on the +river that time?" + + His sister looked up. "I often think of her. +It always seems to me she's there still, just like +we saw her." + + "I know. It's queer what things one re- +members and what things one forgets." Emil +yawned and sat up. "Well, it's time to turn +in." He rose, and going over to Alexandra +stooped down and kissed her lightly on the +cheek. "Good-night, sister. I think you did +pretty well by us." + + Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. +Alexandra sat finishing his new nightshirt, that +must go in the top tray of his trunk. + + + + IV + + + The next morning Angelique, Amedee's +wife, was in the kitchen baking pies, assisted by +old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board +and the stove stood the old cradle that had been +Amedee's, and in it was his black-eyed son. As +Angelique, flushed and excited, with flour on +her hands, stopped to smile at the baby, Emil +Bergson rode up to the kitchen door on his mare +and dismounted. + + "'Medee is out in the field, Emil," Angelique +called as she ran across the kitchen to the oven. +"He begins to cut his wheat to-day; the first +wheat ready to cut anywhere about here. He +bought a new header, you know, because all the +wheat's so short this year. I hope he can rent it +to the neighbors, it cost so much. He and his +cousins bought a steam thresher on shares. You +ought to go out and see that header work. I +watched it an hour this morning, busy as I am +with all the men to feed. He has a lot of hands, +but he's the only one that knows how to drive +the header or how to run the engine, so he has +to be everywhere at once. He's sick, too, and +ought to be in his bed." + + Emil bent over Hector Baptiste, trying to +make him blink his round, bead-like black eyes. +"Sick? What's the matter with your daddy, +kid? Been making him walk the floor with +you?" + + Angelique sniffed. "Not much! We don't +have that kind of babies. It was his father that +kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be get- +ting up and making mustard plasters to put on +his stomach. He had an awful colic. He said he +felt better this morning, but I don't think he +ought to be out in the field, overheating him- +self." + + Angelique did not speak with much anxiety, +not because she was indifferent, but because she +felt so secure in their good fortune. Only good +things could happen to a rich, energetic, hand- +some young man like Amedee, with a new baby +in the cradle and a new header in the field. + + Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste's +head. "I say, Angelique, one of 'Medee's grand- +mothers, 'way back, must have been a squaw. +This kid looks exactly like the Indian babies." + + Angelique made a face at him, but old Mrs. +Chevalier had been touched on a sore point, +and she let out such a stream of fiery PATOIS that +Emil fled from the kitchen and mounted his +mare. + + Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, +Emil rode across the field to the clearing where +the thresher stood, driven by a stationary +engine and fed from the header boxes. As +Amedee was not on the engine, Emil rode on to +the wheatfield, where he recognized, on the +header, the slight, wiry figure of his friend, +coatless, his white shirt puffed out by the wind, +his straw hat stuck jauntily on the side of his +head. The six big work-horses that drew, or +rather pushed, the header, went abreast at a +rapid walk, and as they were still green at the +work they required a good deal of management +on Amedee's part; especially when they turned +the corners, where they divided, three and +three, and then swung round into line again +with a movement that looked as complicated as +a wheel of artillery. Emil felt a new thrill of +admiration for his friend, and with it the old +pang of envy at the way in which Amedee could +do with his might what his hand found to do, +and feel that, whatever it was, it was the most +important thing in the world. "I'll have to +bring Alexandra up to see this thing work," +Emil thought; "it's splendid!" + + When he saw Emil, Amedee waved to him +and called to one of his twenty cousins to take +the reins. Stepping off the header without +stopping it, he ran up to Emil who had dis- +mounted. "Come along," he called. "I have +to go over to the engine for a minute. I gotta +green man running it, and I gotta to keep an +eye on him." + + Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed +and more excited than even the cares of manag- +ing a big farm at a critical time warranted. As +they passed behind a last year's stack, Amedee +clutched at his right side and sank down for a +moment on the straw. + + "Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. +Something's the matter with my insides, for +sure." + + Emil felt his fiery cheek. "You ought to go +straight to bed, 'Medee, and telephone for the +doctor; that's what you ought to do." + + Amedee staggered up with a gesture of +despair. "How can I? I got no time to be sick. +Three thousand dollars' worth of new machin- +ery to manage, and the wheat so ripe it will +begin to shatter next week. My wheat's short, +but it's gotta grand full berries. What's he +slowing down for? We haven't got header +boxes enough to feed the thresher, I guess." + + Amedee started hot-foot across the stubble, +leaning a little to the right as he ran, and waved +to the engineer not to stop the engine. + + Emil saw that this was no time to talk about +his own affairs. He mounted his mare and rode +on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends there +good-bye. He went first to see Raoul Marcel, +and found him innocently practising the +"Gloria" for the big confirmation service on +Sunday while he polished the mirrors of his +father's saloon. + + As Emil rode homewards at three o'clock in +the afternoon, he saw Amedee staggering out of +the wheatfield, supported by two of his cousins. +Emil stopped and helped them put the boy to bed. + + + + V + + + When Frank Shabata came in from work at +five o'clock that evening, old Moses Marcel, +Raoul's father, telephoned him that Amedee +had had a seizure in the wheatfield, and that +Doctor Paradis was going to operate on him as +soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. +Frank dropped a word of this at the table, +bolted his supper, and rode off to Sainte- +Agnes, where there would be sympathetic dis- +cussion of Amedee's case at Marcel's saloon. + + As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned +Alexandra. It was a comfort to hear her friend's +voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there was to +be known about Amedee. Emil had been there +when they carried him out of the field, and had +stayed with him until the doctors operated for +appendicitis at five o'clock. They were afraid +it was too late to do much good; it should +have been done three days ago. Amedee was in +a very bad way. Emil had just come home, +worn out and sick himself. She had given him +some brandy and put him to bed. + + Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amedee's +illness had taken on a new meaning to her, now +that she knew Emil had been with him. And it +might so easily have been the other way-- +Emil who was ill and Amedee who was sad! +Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. +She had seldom felt so utterly lonely. If Emil +was asleep, there was not even a chance of his +coming; and she could not go to Alexandra for +sympathy. She meant to tell Alexandra every- +thing, as soon as Emil went away. Then what- +ever was left between them would be honest. + + But she could not stay in the house this +evening. Where should she go? She walked +slowly down through the orchard, where the +evening air was heavy with the smell of wild +cotton. The fresh, salty scent of the wild roses +had given way before this more powerful per- +fume of midsummer. Wherever those ashes-of- +rose balls hung on their milky stalks, the air +about them was saturated with their breath. +The sky was still red in the west and the even- +ing star hung directly over the Bergsons' wind- +mill. Marie crossed the fence at the wheatfield +corner, and walked slowly along the path that +led to Alexandra's. She could not help feeling +hurt that Emil had not come to tell her about +Amedee. It seemed to her most unnatural that +he should not have come. If she were in trou- +ble, certainly he was the one person in the world +she would want to see. Perhaps he wished her +to understand that for her he was as good as +gone already. + + Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the +path, like a white night-moth out of the fields. +The years seemed to stretch before her like the +land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; +always the same patient fields, the patient little +trees, the patient lives; always the same yearn- +ing, the same pulling at the chain--until the +instinct to live had torn itself and bled and +weakened for the last time, until the chain +secured a dead woman, who might cautiously +be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted +toward the remote, inaccessible evening star. + + When she reached the stile she sat down and +waited. How terrible it was to love people when +you could not really share their lives! + + Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was +already gone. They couldn't meet any more. +There was nothing for them to say. They had +spent the last penny of their small change; +there was nothing left but gold. The day of +love-tokens was past. They had now only their +hearts to give each other. And Emil being +gone, what was her life to be like? In some +ways, it would be easier. She would not, at +least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were once +away and settled at work, she would not have +the feeling that she was spoiling his life. With +the memory he left her, she could be as rash as +she chose. Nobody could be the worse for it +but herself; and that, surely, did not matter. +Her own case was clear. When a girl had loved +one man, and then loved another while that man +was still alive, everybody knew what to think of +her. What happened to her was of little con- +sequence, so long as she did not drag other +people down with her. Emil once away, she +could let everything else go and live a new life +of perfect love. + + Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, +after all, thought he might come. And how +glad she ought to be, she told herself, that he +was asleep. She left the path and went across +the pasture. The moon was almost full. An +owl was hooting somewhere in the fields. She +had scarcely thought about where she was +going when the pond glittered before her, +where Emil had shot the ducks. She stopped +and looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty +way out of life, if one chose to take it. But she +did not want to die. She wanted to live and +dream--a hundred years, forever! As long as +this sweetness welled up in her heart, as long as +her breast could hold this treasure of pain! She +felt as the pond must feel when it held the moon +like that; when it encircled and swelled with + + In the morning, when Emil came down- +stairs, Alexandra met him in the sitting-room +and put her hands on his shoulders. "Emil, I +went to your room as soon as it was light, but +you were sleeping so sound I hated to wake +you. There was nothing you could do, so I +let you sleep. They telephoned from Sainte- +Agnes that Amedee died at three o'clock this +morning." + + + + VI + + + The Church has always held that life is for +the living. On Saturday, while half the vil- +lage of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Ame- +dee and preparing the funeral black for his +burial on Monday, the other half was busy +with white dresses and white veils for the great +confirmation service to-morrow, when the +bishop was to confirm a class of one hundred +boys and girls. Father Duchesne divided his +time between the living and the dead. All day +Saturday the church was a scene of bustling +activity, a little hushed by the thought of +Amedee. The choir were busy rehearsing a +mass of Rossini, which they had studied and +practised for this occasion. The women were +trimming the altar, the boys and girls were +bringing flowers. + + On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive +overland to Sainte-Agnes from Hanover, and +Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place +of one of Amedee's cousins in the cavalcade of +forty French boys who were to ride across coun- +try to meet the bishop's carriage. At six o'clock +on Sunday morning the boys met at the church. +As they stood holding their horses by the bridle, +they talked in low tones of their dead comrade. +They kept repeating that Amedee had always +been a good boy, glancing toward the red brick +church which had played so large a part in +Amedee's life, had been the scene of his most +serious moments and of his happiest hours. He +had played and wrestled and sung and courted +under its shadow. Only three weeks ago he had +proudly carried his baby there to be christened. +They could not doubt that that invisible arm +was still about Amedee; that through the church +on earth he had passed to the church triumph- +ant, the goal of the hopes and faith of so many +hundred years. + + When the word was given to mount, the +young men rode at a walk out of the village; +but once out among the wheatfields in the +morning sun, their horses and their own youth +got the better of them. A wave of zeal and fiery +enthusiasm swept over them. They longed for +a Jerusalem to deliver. The thud of their gal- +loping hoofs interrupted many a country break- +fast and brought many a woman and child to +the door of the farmhouses as they passed. Five +miles east of Sainte-Agnes they met the bishop +in his open carriage, attended by two priests. +Like one man the boys swung off their hats in a +broad salute, and bowed their heads as the +handsome old man lifted his two fingers in the +episcopal blessing. The horsemen closed about +the carriage like a guard, and whenever a rest- +less horse broke from control and shot down the +road ahead of the body, the bishop laughed and +rubbed his plump hands together. "What fine +boys!" he said to his priests. "The Church still +has her cavalry." + + As the troop swept past the graveyard half a +mile east of the town,--the first frame church +of the parish had stood there,--old Pierre +Seguin was already out with his pick and spade, +digging Amedee's grave. He knelt and un- +covered as the bishop passed. The boys with +one accord looked away from old Pierre to the +red church on the hill, with the gold cross +flaming on its steeple. + + Mass was at eleven. While the church was +filling, Emil Bergson waited outside, watching +the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After +the bell began to ring, he saw Frank Shabata +ride up on horseback and tie his horse to the +hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. Emil +turned and went into the church. Amedee's +was the only empty pew, and he sat down in it. +Some of Amedee's cousins were there, dressed +in black and weeping. When all the pews were +full, the old men and boys packed the open +space at the back of the church, kneeling on the +floor. There was scarcely a family in town that +was not represented in the confirmation class, +by a cousin, at least. The new communicants, +with their clear, reverent faces, were beautiful +to look upon as they entered in a body and took +the front benches reserved for them. Even +before the Mass began, the air was charged +with feeling. The choir had never sung so well +and Raoul Marcel, in the "Gloria," drew even +the bishop's eyes to the organ loft. For the +offertory he sang Gounod's "Ave Maria,"-- +always spoken of in Sainte-Agnes as "the Ave +Maria." + + Emil began to torture himself with questions +about Marie. Was she ill? Had she quarreled +with her husband? Was she too unhappy to +find comfort even here? Had she, perhaps, +thought that he would come to her? Was she +waiting for him? Overtaxed by excitement and +sorrow as he was, the rapture of the service took +hold upon his body and mind. As he listened +to Raoul, he seemed to emerge from the con- +flicting emotions which had been whirling him +about and sucking him under. He felt as if +a clear light broke upon his mind, and with it +a conviction that good was, after all, stronger +than evil, and that good was possible to men. +He seemed to discover that there was a kind +of rapture in which he could love forever with- +out faltering and without sin. He looked across +the heads of the people at Frank Shabata +with calmness. That rapture was for those who +could feel it; for people who could not, it +was non-existent. He coveted nothing that was +Frank Shabata's. The spirit he had met in +music was his own. Frank Shabata had never +found it; would never find it if he lived beside it +a thousand years; would have destroyed it if he +had found it, as Herod slew the innocents, as +Rome slew the martyrs. + + SAN--CTA MARI-I-I-A, + +wailed Raoul from the organ loft; + + O--RA PRO NO-O-BIS! + +And it did not occur to Emil that any one had +ever reasoned thus before, that music had ever +before given a man this equivocal revelation. + + The confirmation service followed the Mass. +When it was over, the congregation thronged +about the newly confirmed. The girls, and even +the boys, were kissed and embraced and wept +over. All the aunts and grandmothers wept +with joy. The housewives had much ado to +tear themselves away from the general rejoicing +and hurry back to their kitchens. The country +parishioners were staying in town for dinner, +and nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes enter- +tained visitors that day. Father Duchesne, the +bishop, and the visiting priests dined with +Fabien Sauvage, the banker. Emil and Frank +Shabata were both guests of old Moise Marcel. +After dinner Frank and old Moise retired to +the rear room of the saloon to play California +Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil went +over to the banker's with Raoul, who had been +asked to sing for the bishop. + + At three o'clock, Emil felt that he could +stand it no longer. He slipped out under cover +of "The Holy City," followed by Malvina's +wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. +He was at that height of excitement from which +everything is foreshortened, from which life +seems short and simple, death very near, and +the soul seems to soar like an eagle. As he rode +past the graveyard he looked at the brown hole +in the earth where Amedee was to lie, and felt no +horror. That, too, was beautiful, that simple +doorway into forgetfulness. The heart, when it +is too much alive, aches for that brown earth, +and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old +and the poor and the maimed who shrink from +that brown hole; its wooers are found among +the young, the passionate, the gallant-hearted. +It was not until he had passed the graveyard +that Emil realized where he was going. It was +the hour for saying good-bye. It might be the +last time that he would see her alone, and to- +day he could leave her without rancor, without +bitterness. + + Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot +afternoon was full of the smell of the ripe wheat, +like the smell of bread baking in an oven. The +breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed +him like pleasant things in a dream. He could +feel nothing but the sense of diminishing dis- +tance. It seemed to him that his mare was fly- +ing, or running on wheels, like a railway train. +The sunlight, flashing on the window-glass of +the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. He +was like an arrow shot from the bow. His life +poured itself out along the road before him as he +rode to the Shabata farm. + + When Emil alighted at the Shabatas' gate, +his horse was in a lather. He tied her in the +stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. +She might be at Mrs. Hiller's or with Alexan- +dra. But anything that reminded him of her +would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry +tree. . . When he reached the orchard the sun +was hanging low over the wheatfield. Long +fingers of light reached through the apple +branches as through a net; the orchard was rid- +dled and shot with gold; light was the reality, +the trees were merely interferences that reflected +and refracted light. Emil went softly down +between the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. +When he came to the corner, he stopped short +and put his hand over his mouth. Marie was +lying on her side under the white mulberry tree, +her face half hidden in the grass, her eyes +closed, her hands lying limply where they had +happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new +life of perfect love, and it had left her like this. +Her breast rose and fell faintly, as if she were +asleep. Emil threw himself down beside her and +took her in his arms. The blood came back to +her cheeks, her amber eyes opened slowly, and +in them Emil saw his own face and the orchard +and the sun. "I was dreaming this," she whis- +pered, hiding her face against him, "don't take +my dream away!" + + + + VII + + + When Frank Shabata got home that night, +he found Emil's mare in his stable. Such an +impertinence amazed him. Like everybody +else, Frank had had an exciting day. Since +noon he had been drinking too much, and he +was in a bad temper. He talked bitterly to him- +self while he put his own horse away, and as he +went up the path and saw that the house was +dark he felt an added sense of injury. He ap- +proached quietly and listened on the doorstep. +Hearing nothing, he opened the kitchen door +and went softly from one room to another. +Then he went through the house again, up- +stairs and down, with no better result. He sat +down on the bottom step of the box stairway +and tried to get his wits together. In that un- +natural quiet there was no sound but his own +heavy breathing. Suddenly an owl began to +hoot out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. +An idea flashed into his mind, and his sense +of injury and outrage grew. He went into his +bedroom and took his murderous 405 Winches- +ter from the closet. + + When Frank took up his gun and walked out +of the house, he had not the faintest purpose of +doing anything with it. He did not believe that +he had any real grievance. But it gratified him +to feel like a desperate man. He had got into +the habit of seeing himself always in desperate +straits. His unhappy temperament was like a +cage; he could never get out of it; and he felt +that other people, his wife in particular, must +have put him there. It had never more than +dimly occurred to Frank that he made his own +unhappiness. Though he took up his gun with +dark projects in his mind, he would have been +paralyzed with fright had he known that there +was the slightest probability of his ever carry- +ing any of them out. + + Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, +stopped and stood for a moment lost in +thought. He retraced his steps and looked +through the barn and the hayloft. Then he +went out to the road, where he took the foot- +path along the outside of the orchard hedge. +The hedge was twice as tall as Frank himself, +and so dense that one could see through it only +by peering closely between the leaves. He +could see the empty path a long way in the +moonlight. His mind traveled ahead to the +stile, which he always thought of as haunted +by Emil Bergson. But why had he left his +horse? + + At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard +hedge ended and the path led across the pasture +to the Bergsons', Frank stopped. In the warm, +breathless night air he heard a murmuring +sound, perfectly inarticulate, as low as the +sound of water coming from a spring, where +there is no fall, and where there are no stones to +fret it. Frank strained his ears. It ceased. He +held his breath and began to tremble. Resting +the butt of his gun on the ground, he parted the +mulberry leaves softly with his fingers and +peered through the hedge at the dark figures on +the grass, in the shadow of the mulberry tree. +It seemed to him that they must feel his eyes, +that they must hear him breathing. But they +did not. Frank, who had always wanted to see +things blacker than they were, for once wanted +to believe less than he saw. The woman lying +in the shadow might so easily be one of the +Bergsons' farm-girls. . . . Again the murmur, +like water welling out of the ground. This time +he heard it more distinctly, and his blood was +quicker than his brain. He began to act, just as +a man who falls into the fire begins to act. The +gun sprang to his shoulder, he sighted mechani- +cally and fired three times without stopping, +stopped without knowing why. Either he shut +his eyes or he had vertigo. He did not see any- +thing while he was firing. He thought he heard +a cry simultaneous with the second report, but +he was not sure. He peered again through the +hedge, at the two dark figures under the tree. +They had fallen a little apart from each other, +and were perfectly still-- No, not quite; in +a white patch of light, where the moon shone +through the branches, a man's hand was pluck- +ing spasmodically at the grass. + + Suddenly the woman stirred and uttered a +cry, then another, and another. She was living! +She was dragging herself toward the hedge! +Frank dropped his gun and ran back along the +path, shaking, stumbling, gasping. He had +never imagined such horror. The cries fol- +lowed him. They grew fainter and thicker, as +if she were choking. He dropped on his knees +beside the hedge and crouched like a rabbit, +listening; fainter, fainter; a sound like a whine; +again--a moan--another--silence. Frank +scrambled to his feet and ran on, groaning and +praying. From habit he went toward the house, +where he was used to being soothed when he had +worked himself into a frenzy, but at the sight +of the black, open door, he started back. He +knew that he had murdered somebody, that a +woman was bleeding and moaning in the or- +chard, but he had not realized before that it +was his wife. The gate stared him in the face. +He threw his hands over his head. Which way +to turn? He lifted his tormented face and +looked at the sky. "Holy Mother of God, not to +suffer! She was a good girl--not to suffer!" + + Frank had been wont to see himself in dra- +matic situations; but now, when he stood by the +windmill, in the bright space between the barn +and the house, facing his own black doorway, he +did not see himself at all. He stood like the +hare when the dogs are approaching from all +sides. And he ran like a hare, back and forth +about that moonlit space, before he could make +up his mind to go into the dark stable for a +horse. The thought of going into a doorway +was terrible to him. He caught Emil's horse +by the bit and led it out. He could not have +buckled a bridle on his own. After two or +three attempts, he lifted himself into the sad- +dle and started for Hanover. If he could catch +the one o'clock train, he had money enough to +get as far as Omaha. + + While he was thinking dully of this in some +less sensitized part of his brain, his acuter +faculties were going over and over the cries he +had heard in the orchard. Terror was the only +thing that kept him from going back to her, +terror that she might still be she, that she might +still be suffering. A woman, mutilated and +bleeding in his orchard--it was because it was +a woman that he was so afraid. It was incon- +ceivable that he should have hurt a woman. He +would rather be eaten by wild beasts than see +her move on the ground as she had moved in +the orchard. Why had she been so careless? +She knew he was like a crazy man when he was +angry. She had more than once taken that gun +away from him and held it, when he was angry +with other people. Once it had gone off while +they were struggling over it. She was never +afraid. But, when she knew him, why hadn't +she been more careful? Didn't she have all +summer before her to love Emil Bergson in, +without taking such chances? Probably she had +met the Smirka boy, too, down there in the +orchard. He didn't care. She could have met +all the men on the Divide there, and welcome, if +only she hadn't brought this horror on him. + + There was a wrench in Frank's mind. He did +not honestly believe that of her. He knew that +he was doing her wrong. He stopped his horse +to admit this to himself the more directly, to +think it out the more clearly. He knew that +he was to blame. For three years he had been +trying to break her spirit. She had a way of +making the best of things that seemed to him a +sentimental affectation. He wanted his wife to +resent that he was wasting his best years among +these stupid and unappreciative people; but she +had seemed to find the people quite good +enough. If he ever got rich he meant to buy +her pretty clothes and take her to California in +a Pullman car, and treat her like a lady; but in +the mean time he wanted her to feel that life +was as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. He had +tried to make her life ugly. He had refused to +share any of the little pleasures she was so +plucky about making for herself. She could be +gay about the least thing in the world; but she +must be gay! When she first came to him, her +faith in him, her adoration-- Frank struck the +mare with his fist. Why had Marie made him +do this thing; why had she brought this upon +him? He was overwhelmed by sickening mis- +fortune. All at once he heard her cries again-- +he had forgotten for a moment. "Maria," he +sobbed aloud, "Maria!" + + When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the +motion of his horse brought on a violent attack +of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on +again, but he could think of nothing except his +physical weakness and his desire to be com- +forted by his wife. He wanted to get into his +own bed. Had his wife been at home, he would +have turned and gone back to her meekly +enough. + + + + VIII + + + When old Ivar climbed down from his loft +at four o'clock the next morning, he came upon +Emil's mare, jaded and lather-stained, her +bridle broken, chewing the scattered tufts of +hay outside the stable door. The old man was +thrown into a fright at once. He put the mare +in her stall, threw her a measure of oats, and +then set out as fast as his bow-legs could carry +him on the path to the nearest neighbor. + + "Something is wrong with that boy. Some +misfortune has come upon us. He would never +have used her so, in his right senses. It is not +his way to abuse his mare," the old man kept +muttering, as he scuttled through the short, +wet pasture grass on his bare feet. + + While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the +first long rays of the sun were reaching down +between the orchard boughs to those two dew- +drenched figures. The story of what had hap- +pened was written plainly on the orchard grass, +and on the white mulberries that had fallen in +the night and were covered with dark stain. +For Emil the chapter had been short. He was +shot in the heart, and had rolled over on his +back and died. His face was turned up to the +sky and his brows were drawn in a frown, as +if he had realized that something had befallen +him. But for Marie Shabata it had not been so +easy. One ball had torn through her right lung, +another had shattered the carotid artery. She +must have started up and gone toward the +hedge, leaving a trail of blood. There she had +fallen and bled. From that spot there was +another trail, heavier than the first, where she +must have dragged herself back to Emil's body. +Once there, she seemed not to have struggled +any more. She had lifted her head to her lover's +breast, taken his hand in both her own, and +bled quietly to death. She was lying on her +right side in an easy and natural position, her +cheek on Emil's shoulder. On her face there was +a look of ineffable content. Her lips were parted +a little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a +day-dream or a light slumber. After she lay +down there, she seemed not to have moved an +eyelash. The hand she held was covered with +dark stains, where she had kissed it. + + But the stained, slippery grass, the darkened +mulberries, told only half the story. Above +Marie and Emil, two white butterflies from +Frank's alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out +among the interlacing shadows; diving and +soaring, now close together, now far apart; and +in the long grass by the fence the last wild roses +of the year opened their pink hearts to die. + + When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he +saw Shabata's rifle lying in the way. He turned +and peered through the branches, falling upon +his knees as if his legs had been mowed from +under him. "Merciful God!" he groaned; + + Alexandra, too, had risen early that morning, +because of her anxiety about Emil. She was in +Emil's room upstairs when, from the window, +she saw Ivar coming along the path that led +from the Shabatas'. He was running like a +spent man, tottering and lurching from side to +side. Ivar never drank, and Alexandra thought +at once that one of his spells had come upon +him, and that he must be in a very bad way +indeed. She ran downstairs and hurried out +to meet him, to hide his infirmity from the +eyes of her household. The old man fell in the +road at her feet and caught her hand, over +which he bowed his shaggy head. "Mistress, +mistress," he sobbed, "it has fallen! Sin and +death for the young ones! God have mercy +upon us!" + + + + + PART V + + Alexandra + + + + + I + + + Ivar was sitting at a cobbler's bench in the +barn, mending harness by the light of a lantern +and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. It +was only five o'clock of a mid-October day, but +a storm had come up in the afternoon, bring- +ing black clouds, a cold wind and torrents of +rain. The old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, +and occasionally stopped to warm his fingers at +the lantern. Suddenly a woman burst into the +shed, as if she had been blown in, accompanied +by a shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, +wrapped in a man's overcoat and wearing a +pair of boots over her shoes. In time of trouble +Signa had come back to stay with her mistress, +for she was the only one of the maids from +whom Alexandra would accept much personal +service. It was three months now since the +news of the terrible thing that had happened +in Frank Shabata's orchard had first run like +a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were +staying on with Alexandra until winter. + + "Ivar," Signa exclaimed as she wiped the +rain from her face, "do you know where she +is?" + + The old man put down his cobbler's knife. +"Who, the mistress?" + + "Yes. She went away about three o'clock. I +happened to look out of the window and saw +her going across the fields in her thin dress and +sun-hat. And now this storm has come on. I +thought she was going to Mrs. Hiller's, and I +telephoned as soon as the thunder stopped, but +she had not been there. I'm afraid she is out +somewhere and will get her death of cold." + + Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. +"JA, JA, we will see. I will hitch the boy's mare +to the cart and go." + + Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to +the horses' stable. She was shivering with cold +and excitement. "Where do you suppose she +can be, Ivar?" + + The old man lifted a set of single harness +carefully from its peg. "How should I know?" + + "But you think she is at the graveyard, +don't you?" Signa persisted. "So do I. Oh, I +wish she would be more like herself! I can't +believe it's Alexandra Bergson come to this, +with no head about anything. I have to tell her +when to eat and when to go to bed." + + "Patience, patience, sister," muttered Ivar +as he settled the bit in the horse's mouth. +"When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the eyes +of the spirit are open. She will have a message +from those who are gone, and that will bring her +peace. Until then we must bear with her. You +and I are the only ones who have weight with +her. She trusts us." + + "How awful it's been these last three +months." Signa held the lantern so that he +could see to buckle the straps. "It don't seem +right that we must all be so miserable. Why do +we all have to be punished? Seems to me like +good times would never come again." + + Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but +said nothing. He stooped and took a sandburr +from his toe. + + "Ivar," Signa asked suddenly, "will you tell +me why you go barefoot? All the time I lived +here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it for +a penance, or what?" + + "No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the +body. From my youth up I have had a strong, +rebellious body, and have been subject to every +kind of temptation. Even in age my tempta- +tions are prolonged. It was necessary to make +some allowances; and the feet, as I understand +it, are free members. There is no divine pro- +hibition for them in the Ten Commandments. +The hands, the tongue, the eyes, the heart, all +the bodily desires we are commanded to sub- +due; but the feet are free members. I indulge +them without harm to any one, even to tramp- +ling in filth when my desires are low. They are +quickly cleaned again." + + Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful +as she followed Ivar out to the wagon-shed and +held the shafts up for him, while he backed in +the mare and buckled the hold-backs. "You +have been a good friend to the mistress, Ivar," +she murmured. + + "And you, God be with you," replied Ivar as +he clambered into the cart and put the lan- +tern under the oilcloth lap-cover. "Now for a +ducking, my girl," he said to the mare, gather- +ing up the reins. + + As they emerged from the shed, a stream of +water, running off the thatch, struck the mare +on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly, +then struck out bravely on the soft ground, +slipping back again and again as she climbed +the hill to the main road. Between the rain and +the darkness Ivar could see very little, so he let +Emil's mare have the rein, keeping her head in +the right direction. When the ground was level, +he turned her out of the dirt road upon the sod, +where she was able to trot without slipping. + + Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three +miles from the house, the storm had spent +itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, +dripping rain. The sky and the land were a +dark smoke color, and seemed to be coming +together, like two waves. When Ivar stopped +at the gate and swung out his lantern, a white +figure rose from beside John Bergson's white +stone. + + The old man sprang to the ground and shuf- +fled toward the gate calling, "Mistress, mis- +tress!" + + Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her +hand on his shoulder. "TYST! Ivar. There's +nothing to be worried about. I'm sorry if I've +scared you all. I didn't notice the storm till it +was on me, and I couldn't walk against it. I'm +glad you've come. I am so tired I didn't know +how I'd ever get home." + + Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in +her face. "GUD! You are enough to frighten +us, mistress. You look like a drowned woman. +How could you do such a thing!" + + Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the +gate and helped her into the cart, wrapping her +in the dry blankets on which he had been sitting. + + Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. "Not +much use in that, Ivar. You will only shut the +wet in. I don't feel so cold now; but I'm heavy +and numb. I'm glad you came." + + Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a +sliding trot. Her feet sent back a continual +spatter of mud. + + Alexandra spoke to the old man as they +jogged along through the sullen gray twilight of +the storm. "Ivar, I think it has done me good +to get cold clear through like this, once. I don't +believe I shall suffer so much any more. When +you get so near the dead, they seem more real +than the living. Worldly thoughts leave one. +Ever since Emil died, I've suffered so when it +rained. Now that I've been out in it with him, +I shan't dread it. After you once get cold clear +through, the feeling of the rain on you is sweet. +It seems to bring back feelings you had when +you were a baby. It carries you back into the +dark, before you were born; you can't see things, +but they come to you, somehow, and you know +them and aren't afraid of them. Maybe it's like +that with the dead. If they feel anything at all, +it's the old things, before they were born, that +comfort people like the feeling of their own +bed does when they are little." + + "Mistress," said Ivar reproachfully, "those +are bad thoughts. The dead are in Paradise." + + Then he hung his head, for he did not believe +that Emil was in Paradise. + + When they got home, Signa had a fire burn- +ing in the sitting-room stove. She undressed +Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while +Ivar made ginger tea in the kitchen. When +Alexandra was in bed, wrapped in hot blankets, +Ivar came in with his tea and saw that she +drank it. Signa asked permission to sleep on +the slat lounge outside her door. Alexandra +endured their attentions patiently, but she was +glad when they put out the lamp and left her. +As she lay alone in the dark, it occurred to her +for the first time that perhaps she was actually +tired of life. All the physical operations of life +seemed difficult and painful. She longed to be +free from her own body, which ached and was +so heavy. And longing itself was heavy: she +yearned to be free of that. + + As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, +more vividly than for many years, the old illu- +sion of her girlhood, of being lifted and carried +lightly by some one very strong. He was with +her a long while this time, and carried her very +far, and in his arms she felt free from pain. +When he laid her down on her bed again, she +opened her eyes, and, for the first time in her +life, she saw him, saw him clearly, though the +room was dark, and his face was covered. He +was standing in the doorway of her room. His +white cloak was thrown over his face, and his +head was bent a little forward. His shoulders +seemed as strong as the foundations of the +world. His right arm, bared from the elbow, +was dark and gleaming, like bronze, and she +knew at once that it was the arm of the mighti- +est of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it +was she had waited, and where he would carry +her. That, she told herself, was very well. +Then she went to sleep. + + Alexandra wakened in the morning with +nothing worse than a hard cold and a stiff +shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, +and it was during that time that she formed a +resolution to go to Lincoln to see Frank Sha- +bata. Ever since she last saw him in the court- +room, Frank's haggard face and wild eyes +had haunted her. The trial had lasted only +three days. Frank had given himself up to the +police in Omaha and pleaded guilty of kill- +ing without malice and without premeditation. +The gun was, of course, against him, and the +judge had given him the full sentence,--ten +years. He had now been in the State Peni- +tentiary for a month. + + Frank was the only one, Alexandra told her- +self, for whom anything could be done. He had +been less in the wrong than any of them, and he +was paying the heaviest penalty. She often felt +that she herself had been more to blame than +poor Frank. From the time the Shabatas had +first moved to the neighboring farm, she had +omitted no opportunity of throwing Marie and +Emil together. Because she knew Frank was +surly about doing little things to help his wife, +she was always sending Emil over to spade or +plant or carpenter for Marie. She was glad to +have Emil see as much as possible of an intelli- +gent, city-bred girl like their neighbor; she no- +ticed that it improved his manners. She knew +that Emil was fond of Marie, but it had never +occurred to her that Emil's feeling might be dif- +ferent from her own. She wondered at herself +now, but she had never thought of danger in +that direction. If Marie had been unmarried, +--oh, yes! Then she would have kept her eyes +open. But the mere fact that she was Sha- +bata's wife, for Alexandra, settled everything. +That she was beautiful, impulsive, barely two +years older than Emil, these facts had had no +weight with Alexandra. Emil was a good boy, +and only bad boys ran after married women. + + Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize +that Marie was, after all, Marie; not merely +a "married woman." Sometimes, when Alex- +andra thought of her, it was with an aching +tenderness. The moment she had reached them +in the orchard that morning, everything was +clear to her. There was something about those +two lying in the grass, something in the way +Marie had settled her cheek on Emil's shoulder, +that told her everything. She wondered then +how they could have helped loving each other; +how she could have helped knowing that they +must. Emil's cold, frowning face, the girl's +content--Alexandra had felt awe of them, +even in the first shock of her grief. + + The idleness of those days in bed, the relax- +ation of body which attended them, enabled +Alexandra to think more calmly than she had +done since Emil's death. She and Frank, she +told herself, were left out of that group of +friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster. +She must certainly see Frank Shabata. Even +in the courtroom her heart had grieved for him. +He was in a strange country, he had no kins- +men or friends, and in a moment he had ruined +his life. Being what he was, she felt, Frank +could not have acted otherwise. She could +understand his behavior more easily than she +could understand Marie's. Yes, she must go to +Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. + + The day after Emil's funeral, Alexandra had +written to Carl Linstrum; a single page of note- +paper, a bare statement of what had happened. +She was not a woman who could write much +about such a thing, and about her own feelings +she could never write very freely. She knew +that Carl was away from post-offices, prospect- +ing somewhere in the interior. Before he started +he had written her where he expected to go, but +her ideas about Alaska were vague. As the +weeks went by and she heard nothing from him, +it seemed to Alexandra that her heart grew hard +against Carl. She began to wonder whether she +would not do better to finish her life alone. +What was left of life seemed unimportant. + + + + II + + + Late in the afternoon of a brilliant October +day, Alexandra Bergson, dressed in a black suit +and traveling-hat, alighted at the Burlington +depot in Lincoln. She drove to the Lindell +Hotel, where she had stayed two years ago +when she came up for Emil's Commencement. +In spite of her usual air of sureness and self- +possession, Alexandra felt ill at ease in hotels, +and she was glad, when she went to the clerk's +desk to register, that there were not many +people in the lobby. She had her supper early, +wearing her hat and black jacket down to the +dining-room and carrying her handbag. After +supper she went out for a walk. + + It was growing dark when she reached +the university campus. She did not go into the +grounds, but walked slowly up and down the +stone walk outside the long iron fence, looking +through at the young men who were running +from one building to another, at the lights shin- +ing from the armory and the library. A squad +of cadets were going through their drill behind +the armory, and the commands of their young +officer rang out at regular intervals, so sharp +and quick that Alexandra could not understand +them. Two stalwart girls came down the library +steps and out through one of the iron gates. As +they passed her, Alexandra was pleased to hear +them speaking Bohemian to each other. Every +few moments a boy would come running down +the flagged walk and dash out into the street as +if he were rushing to announce some wonder to +the world. Alexandra felt a great tenderness for +them all. She wished one of them would stop +and speak to her. She wished she could ask +them whether they had known Emil. + + As she lingered by the south gate she actually +did encounter one of the boys. He had on his +drill cap and was swinging his books at the +end of a long strap. It was dark by this time; +he did not see her and ran against her. He +snatched off his cap and stood bareheaded and +panting. "I'm awfully sorry," he said in a +bright, clear voice, with a rising inflection, as if +he expected her to say something. + + "Oh, it was my fault!" said Alexandra eagerly. +"Are you an old student here, may I ask?" + + "No, ma'am. I'm a Freshie, just off the +farm. Cherry County. Were you hunting +somebody?" + + "No, thank you. That is--" Alexandra +wanted to detain him. "That is, I would like to +find some of my brother's friends. He gradu- +ated two years ago." + + "Then you'd have to try the Seniors, +wouldn't you? Let's see; I don't know any of +them yet, but there'll be sure to be some of +them around the library. That red building, +right there," he pointed. + + "Thank you, I'll try there," said Alexandra +lingeringly. + + "Oh, that's all right! Good-night." The lad +clapped his cap on his head and ran straight +down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked after +him wistfully. + + She walked back to her hotel unreasonably +comforted. "What a nice voice that boy had, +and how polite he was. I know Emil was always +like that to women." And again, after she had +undressed and was standing in her nightgown, +brushing her long, heavy hair by the electric +light, she remembered him and said to herself, +"I don't think I ever heard a nicer voice than +that boy had. I hope he will get on well here. +Cherry County; that's where the hay is so fine, +and the coyotes can scratch down to water." + + At nine o'clock the next morning Alexandra +presented herself at the warden's office in the +State Penitentiary. The warden was a Ger- +man, a ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had +formerly been a harness-maker. Alexandra had +a letter to him from the German banker in +Hanover. As he glanced at the letter, Mr. +Schwartz put away his pipe. + + "That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he's +gettin' along fine," said Mr. Schwartz cheer- +fully. + + "I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he +might be quarrelsome and get himself into more +trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I +would like to tell you a little about Frank +Shabata, and why I am interested in him." + + The warden listened genially while she told +him briefly something of Frank's history and +character, but he did not seem to find anything +unusual in her account. + + "Sure, I'll keep an eye on him. We'll take +care of him all right," he said, rising. "You can +talk to him here, while I go to see to things in +the kitchen. I'll have him sent in. He ought +to be done washing out his cell by this time. We +have to keep 'em clean, you know." + + The warden paused at the door, speaking +back over his shoulder to a pale young man in +convicts' clothes who was seated at a desk in +the corner, writing in a big ledger. + + "Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just +step out and give this lady a chance to talk." + + The young man bowed his head and bent +over his ledger again. + + When Mr. Schwartz disappeared, Alexandra +thrust her black-edged handkerchief nervously +into her handbag. Coming out on the street- +car she had not had the least dread of meeting +Frank. But since she had been here the sounds +and smells in the corridor, the look of the men +in convicts' clothes who passed the glass door of +the warden's office, affected her unpleasantly. + + The warden's clock ticked, the young con- +vict's pen scratched busily in the big book, and +his sharp shoulders were shaken every few +seconds by a loose cough which he tried to +smother. It was easy to see that he was a sick +man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, but he +did not once raise his eyes. He wore a white +shirt under his striped jacket, a high collar, and +a necktie, very carefully tied. His hands were +thin and white and well cared for, and he had a +seal ring on his little finger. When he heard +steps approaching in the corridor, he rose, +blotted his book, put his pen in the rack, and +left the room without raising his eyes. Through +the door he opened a guard came in, bringing +Frank Shabata. + + "You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? +Here he is. Be on your good behavior, now. He +can set down, lady," seeing that Alexandra +remained standing. "Push that white button +when you're through with him, and I'll come." + + The guard went out and Alexandra and +Frank were left alone. + + Alexandra tried not to see his hideous +clothes. She tried to look straight into his face, +which she could scarcely believe was his. It +was already bleached to a chalky gray. His lips +were colorless, his fine teeth looked yellowish. +He glanced at Alexandra sullenly, blinked as if +he had come from a dark place, and one eye- +brow twitched continually. She felt at once +that this interview was a terrible ordeal to him. +His shaved head, showing the conformation of +his skull, gave him a criminal look which he had +not had during the trial. + + Alexandra held out her hand. "Frank," she +said, her eyes filling suddenly, "I hope you'll +let me be friendly with you. I understand how +you did it. I don't feel hard toward you. They +were more to blame than you." + + Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from +his trousers pocket. He had begun to cry. He +turned away from Alexandra. "I never did +mean to do not'ing to dat woman," he mut- +tered. "I never mean to do not'ing to dat boy. +I ain't had not'ing ag'in' dat boy. I always like +dat boy fine. An' then I find him--" He +stopped. The feeling went out of his face and +eyes. He dropped into a chair and sat looking +stolidly at the floor, his hands hanging loosely +between his knees, the handkerchief lying +across his striped leg. He seemed to have +stirred up in his mind a disgust that had para- +lyzed his faculties. + + "I haven't come up here to blame you, +Frank. I think they were more to blame than +you." Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. + + Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of +the office window. "I guess dat place all go to +hell what I work so hard on," he said with a +slow, bitter smile. "I not care a damn." He +stopped and rubbed the palm of his hand over +the light bristles on his head with annoyance. +"I no can t'ink without my hair," he com- +plained. "I forget English. We not talk here, +except swear." + + Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to +have undergone a change of personality. There +was scarcely anything by which she could +recognize her handsome Bohemian neighbor. +He seemed, somehow, not altogether human. +She did not know what to say to him. + + "You do not feel hard to me, Frank?" she +asked at last. + + Frank clenched his fist and broke out in +excitement. "I not feel hard at no woman. I +tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit my +wife. No, never I hurt her when she devil me +something awful!" He struck his fist down on +the warden's desk so hard that he afterward +stroked it absently. A pale pink crept over +his neck and face. "Two, t'ree years I know +dat woman don' care no more 'bout me, Alex- +andra Bergson. I know she after some other +man. I know her, oo-oo! An' I ain't never hurt +her. I never would-a done dat, if I ain't had +dat gun along. I don' know what in hell make +me take dat gun. She always say I ain't no +man to carry gun. If she been in dat house, +where she ought-a been-- But das a foolish +talk." + + Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, +as he had stopped before. Alexandra felt that +there was something strange in the way he +chilled off, as if something came up in him that +extinguished his power of feeling or thinking. + + "Yes, Frank," she said kindly. "I know you +never meant to hurt Marie." + + Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled +slowly with tears. "You know, I most forgit +dat woman's name. She ain't got no name for +me no more. I never hate my wife, but dat +woman what make me do dat-- Honest to +God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I don' +want to kill no boy and no woman. I not care +how many men she take under dat tree. I no +care for not'ing but dat fine boy I kill, Alexan- +dra Bergson. I guess I go crazy sure 'nough." + + Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane +she had found in Frank's clothes-closet. She +thought of how he had come to this country a +gay young fellow, so attractive that the pretti- +est Bohemian girl in Omaha had run away with +him. It seemed unreasonable that life should +have landed him in such a place as this. She +blamed Marie bitterly. And why, with her +happy, affectionate nature, should she have +brought destruction and sorrow to all who had +loved her, even to poor old Joe Tovesky, the +uncle who used to carry her about so proudly +when she was a little girl? That was the +strangest thing of all. Was there, then, some- +thing wrong in being warm-hearted and impul- +sive like that? Alexandra hated to think so. +But there was Emil, in the Norwegian grave- +yard at home, and here was Frank Shabata. +Alexandra rose and took him by the hand. + + "Frank Shabata, I am never going to stop +trying until I get you pardoned. I'll never +give the Governor any peace. I know I can get +you out of this place." + + Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he +gathered confidence from her face. "Alexan- +dra," he said earnestly, "if I git out-a here, I +not trouble dis country no more. I go back +where I come from; see my mother." + + Alexandra tried to withdraw her hand, but +Frank held on to it nervously. He put out his +finger and absently touched a button on her +black jacket. "Alexandra," he said in a low +tone, looking steadily at the button, "you ain' +t'ink I use dat girl awful bad before--" + + "No, Frank. We won't talk about that," +Alexandra said, pressing his hand. "I can't +help Emil now, so I'm going to do what I can +for you. You know I don't go away from +home often, and I came up here on purpose to +tell you this." + + The warden at the glass door looked in in- +quiringly. Alexandra nodded, and he came in +and touched the white button on his desk. The +guard appeared, and with a sinking heart +Alexandra saw Frank led away down the cor- +ridor. After a few words with Mr. Schwartz, +she left the prison and made her way to the +street-car. She had refused with horror the +warden's cordial invitation to "go through +the institution." As the car lurched over its un- +even roadbed, back toward Lincoln, Alexandra +thought of how she and Frank had been +wrecked by the same storm and of how, al- +though she could come out into the sunlight, +she had not much more left in her life than he. +She remembered some lines from a poem she +had liked in her schooldays:-- + + Henceforth the world will only be + A wider prison-house to me,-- + +and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her +heart; some such feeling as had twice frozen +Frank Shabata's features while they talked +together. She wished she were back on the +Divide. + + When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk +held up one finger and beckoned to her. As she +approached his desk, he handed her a telegram. +Alexandra took the yellow envelope and looked +at it in perplexity, then stepped into the ele- +vator without opening it. As she walked down +the corridor toward her room, she reflected that +she was, in a manner, immune from evil tid- +ings. On reaching her room she locked the door, +and sitting down on a chair by the dresser, +opened the telegram. It was from Hanover, +and it read:-- + + + Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait + here until you come. Please hurry. + CARL LINSTRUM. + + Alexandra put her head down on the dresser +and burst into tears. + + + + III + + + The next afternoon Carl and Alexandra +were walking across the fields from Mrs. +Hiller's. Alexandra had left Lincoln after mid- +night, and Carl had met her at the Hanover +station early in the morning. After they +reached home, Alexandra had gone over to +Mrs. Hiller's to leave a little present she had +bought for her in the city. They stayed at the +old lady's door but a moment, and then came +out to spend the rest of the afternoon in the +sunny fields. + + Alexandra had taken off her black traveling- +suit and put on a white dress; partly because +she saw that her black clothes made Carl un- +comfortable and partly because she felt op- +pressed by them herself. They seemed a little +like the prison where she had worn them yester- +day, and to be out of place in the open fields. +Carl had changed very little. His cheeks were +browner and fuller. He looked less like a tired +scholar than when he went away a year ago, +but no one, even now, would have taken him +for a man of business. His soft, lustrous black +eyes, his whimsical smile, would be less against +him in the Klondike than on the Divide. There +are always dreamers on the frontier. + + Carl and Alexandra had been talking since +morning. Her letter had never reached him. +He had first learned of her misfortune from a +San Francisco paper, four weeks old, which he +had picked up in a saloon, and which con- +tained a brief account of Frank Shabata's trial. +When he put down the paper, he had already +made up his mind that he could reach Alexandra +as quickly as a letter could; and ever since he +had been on the way; day and night, by the +fastest boats and trains he could catch. His +steamer had been held back two days by rough +weather. + + As they came out of Mrs. Hiller's garden +they took up their talk again where they had +left it. + + "But could you come away like that, Carl, +without arranging things? Could you just walk +off and leave your business?" Alexandra asked. + + Carl laughed. "Prudent Alexandra! You see, +my dear, I happen to have an honest partner. +I trust him with everything. In fact, it's been +his enterprise from the beginning, you know. +I'm in it only because he took me in. I'll +have to go back in the spring. Perhaps you +will want to go with me then. We haven't +turned up millions yet, but we've got a start +that's worth following. But this winter I'd like +to spend with you. You won't feel that we +ought to wait longer, on Emil's account, will +you, Alexandra?" + + Alexandra shook her head. "No, Carl; I +don't feel that way about it. And surely you +needn't mind anything Lou and Oscar say +now. They are much angrier with me about +Emil, now, than about you. They say it was all +my fault. That I ruined him by sending him to +college." + + "No, I don't care a button for Lou or +Oscar. The moment I knew you were in trou- +ble, the moment I thought you might need +me, it all looked different. You've always +been a triumphant kind of person." Carl +hesitated, looking sidewise at her strong, full +figure. "But you do need me now, Alex- +andra?" + + She put her hand on his arm. "I needed you +terribly when it happened, Carl. I cried for you +at night. Then everything seemed to get hard +inside of me, and I thought perhaps I should +never care for you again. But when I got your +telegram yesterday, then--then it was just as +it used to be. You are all I have in the world, +you know." + + Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were +passing the Shabatas' empty house now, but +they avoided the orchard path and took one +that led over by the pasture pond. + + "Can you understand it, Carl?" Alexandra +murmured. "I have had nobody but Ivar and +Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you un- +derstand it? Could you have believed that +of Marie Tovesky? I would have been cut +to pieces, little by little, before I would have +betrayed her trust in me!" + + Carl looked at the shining spot of water +before them. "Maybe she was cut to pieces, +too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they +both did. That was why Emil went to Mexico, +of course. And he was going away again, you +tell me, though he had only been home three +weeks. You remember that Sunday when I +went with Emil up to the French Church fair? +I thought that day there was some kind of feel- +ing, something unusual, between them. I +meant to talk to you about it. But on my way +back I met Lou and Oscar and got so angry +that I forgot everything else. You mustn't +be hard on them, Alexandra. Sit down here +by the pond a minute. I want to tell you +something." + + They sat down on the grass-tufted bank and +Carl told her how he had seen Emil and +Marie out by the pond that morning, more than +a year ago, and how young and charming and +full of grace they had seemed to him. "It hap- +pens like that in the world sometimes, Alexan- +dra," he added earnestly. "I've seen it before. +There are women who spread ruin around +them through no fault of theirs, just by being +too beautiful, too full of life and love. They +can't help it. People come to them as people go +to a warm fire in winter. I used to feel that in +her when she was a little girl. Do you remem- +ber how all the Bohemians crowded round her +in the store that day, when she gave Emil her +candy? You remember those yellow sparks in +her eyes?" + + Alexandra sighed. "Yes. People couldn't +help loving her. Poor Frank does, even now, I +think; though he's got himself in such a tangle +that for a long time his love has been bitterer +than his hate. But if you saw there was any- +thing wrong, you ought to have told me, Carl." + + Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. +"My dear, it was something one felt in the air, +as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in +summer. I didn't SEE anything. Simply, when +I was with those two young things, I felt my +blood go quicker, I felt--how shall I say it?-- +an acceleration of life. After I got away, it +was all too delicate, too intangible, to write +about." + + Alexandra looked at him mournfully. "I +try to be more liberal about such things than +I used to be. I try to realize that we are not +all made alike. Only, why couldn't it have +been Raoul Marcel, or Jan Smirka? Why did it +have to be my boy?" + + "Because he was the best there was, I sup- +pose. They were both the best you had here." + + The sun was dropping low in the west when +the two friends rose and took the path again. +The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, +the owls were flying home to the prairie-dog +town. When they came to the corner where the +pastures joined, Alexandra's twelve young colts +were galloping in a drove over the brow of the +hill. + + "Carl," said Alexandra, "I should like to go +up there with you in the spring. I haven't +been on the water since we crossed the ocean, +when I was a little girl. After we first came out +here I used to dream sometimes about the ship- +yard where father worked, and a little sort of +inlet, full of masts." Alexandra paused. After +a moment's thought she said, "But you would +never ask me to go away for good, would you?" + + "Of course not, my dearest. I think I know +how you feel about this country as well as you +do yourself." Carl took her hand in both his +own and pressed it tenderly. + + "Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is +gone. When I was on the train this morning, +and we got near Hanover, I felt something like +I did when I drove back with Emil from the +river that time, in the dry year. I was glad to +come back to it. I've lived here a long time. +There is great peace here, Carl, and freedom. +. . . I thought when I came out of that prison, +where poor Frank is, that I should never feel +free again. But I do, here." Alexandra took a +deep breath and looked off into the red west. + + "You belong to the land," Carl murmured, +"as you have always said. Now more than +ever." + + "Yes, now more than ever. You remember +what you once said about the graveyard, and +the old story writing itself over? Only it is we +who write it, with the best we have." + + They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, +overlooking the house and the windmill and the +stables that marked the site of John Bergson's +homestead. On every side the brown waves of +the earth rolled away to meet the sky. + + "Lou and Oscar can't see those things," said +Alexandra suddenly. "Suppose I do will my +land to their children, what difference will that +make? The land belongs to the future, Carl; +that's the way it seems to me. How many of the +names on the county clerk's plat will be there +in fifty years? I might as well try to will the +sunset over there to my brother's children. We +come and go, but the land is always here. And +the people who love it and understand it are +the people who own it--for a little while." + + Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was +still gazing into the west, and in her face there +was that exalted serenity that sometimes came +to her at moments of deep feeling. The level +rays of the sinking sun shone in her clear eyes. + + "Why are you thinking of such things now, +Alexandra?" + + "I had a dream before I went to Lincoln-- +But I will tell you about that afterward, after +we are married. It will never come true, now, +in the way I thought it might." She took Carl's +arm and they walked toward the gate. "How +many times we have walked this path together, +Carl. How many times we will walk it again! +Does it seem to you like coming back to your +own place? Do you feel at peace with the world +here? I think we shall be very happy. I haven't +any fears. I think when friends marry, they are +safe. We don't suffer like--those young ones." +Alexandra ended with a sigh. + + They had reached the gate. Before Carl +opened it, he drew Alexandra to him and kissed +her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. + + She leaned heavily on his shoulder. "I am +tired," she murmured. "I have been very +lonely, Carl." + + They went into the house together, leaving +the Divide behind them, under the evening +star. Fortunate country, that is one day to +receive hearts like Alexandra's into its bosom, +to give them out again in the yellow wheat, in +the rustling corn, in the shining eyes of youth! + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Edition of O Pioneers! + + + + diff --git a/old/opion11.zip b/old/opion11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..14b5f09 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/opion11.zip diff --git a/old/opion12.txt b/old/opion12.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0f7960 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/opion12.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6352 @@ +**The Project Gutenberg Etext of O Pioneers! by Willa Cather** +#1 in our series by Willa Cather + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.08.01*END** +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced anonymously. +Version 12 was corrected by Martin Robb (MartinRobb@ieee.org) + + + + + +O Pioneers! + +by Willa Cather + + +PART I + +The Wild Land + + + + +I + + +One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, +anchored on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown +away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the +cluster of low drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under +a gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the +tough prairie sod; some of them looked as if they had been moved in +overnight, and others as if they were straying off by themselves, +headed straight for the open plain. None of them had any appearance +of permanence, and the howling wind blew under them as well as over +them. The main street was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard, +which ran from the squat red railway station and the grain "elevator" +at the north end of the town to the lumber yard and the horse pond +at the south end. On either side of this road straggled two uneven +rows of wooden buildings; the general merchandise stores, the two +banks, the drug store, the feed store, the saloon, the post-office. +The board sidewalks were gray with trampled snow, but at two o'clock +in the afternoon the shopkeepers, having come back from dinner, +were keeping well behind their frosty windows. The children were +all in school, and there was nobody abroad in the streets but a +few rough-looking countrymen in coarse overcoats, with their long +caps pulled down to their noses. Some of them had brought their +wives to town, and now and then a red or a plaid shawl flashed out +of one store into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars along +the street a few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, +shivered under their blankets. About the station everything was +quiet, for there would not be another train in until night. + +On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede +boy, crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth +coat was much too big for him and made him look like a little old +man. His shrunken brown flannel dress had been washed many times +and left a long stretch of stocking between the hem of his skirt +and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed shoes. His cap was pulled +down over his ears; his nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped and +red with cold. He cried quietly, and the few people who hurried +by did not notice him. He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to +go into the store and ask for help, so he sat wringing his long +sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole beside him, whimpering, "My +kitten, oh, my kitten! Her will fweeze!" At the top of the pole +crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing faintly and clinging +desperately to the wood with her claws. The boy had been left +at the store while his sister went to the doctor's office, and in +her absence a dog had chased his kitten up the pole. The little +creature had never been so high before, and she was too frightened +to move. Her master was sunk in despair. He was a little country +boy, and this village was to him a very strange and perplexing +place, where people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. He +always felt shy and awkward here, and wanted to hide behind things +for fear some one might laugh at him. Just now, he was too unhappy +to care who laughed. At last he seemed to see a ray of hope: his +sister was coming, and he got up and ran toward her in his heavy +shoes. + +His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she walked rapidly and +resolutely, as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she +was going to do next. She wore a man's long ulster (not as if it +were an affliction, but as if it were very comfortable and belonged +to her; carried it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap, +tied down with a thick veil. She had a serious, thoughtful face, +and her clear, deep blue eyes were fixed intently on the distance, +without seeming to see anything, as if she were in trouble. She +did not notice the little boy until he pulled her by the coat. +Then she stopped short and stooped down to wipe his wet face. + +"Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. +What is the matter with you?" + +"My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased +her up there." His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his +coat, pointed up to the wretched little creature on the pole. + +"Oh, Emil! Didn't I tell you she'd get us into trouble of some +kind, if you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, +I ought to have known better myself." She went to the foot of the +pole and held out her arms, crying, "Kitty, kitty, kitty," but the +kitten only mewed and faintly waved its tail. Alexandra turned +away decidedly. "No, she won't come down. Somebody will have to +go up after her. I saw the Linstrums' wagon in town. I'll go and +see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do something. Only you must +stop crying, or I won't go a step. Where's your comforter? Did +you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold still, till I put +this on you." + +She unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his +throat. A shabby little traveling man, who was just then coming out +of the store on his way to the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly +at the shining mass of hair she bared when she took off her veil; +two thick braids, pinned about her head in the German way, with a +fringe of reddish-yellow curls blowing out from under her cap. He +took his cigar out of his mouth and held the wet end between the +fingers of his woolen glove. "My God, girl, what a head of hair!" +he exclaimed, quite innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with +a glance of Amazonian fierceness and drew in her lower lip--most +unnecessary severity. It gave the little clothing drummer such a +start that he actually let his cigar fall to the sidewalk and went +off weakly in the teeth of the wind to the saloon. His hand was +still unsteady when he took his glass from the bartender. His +feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed before, but never +so mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, as if some one had +taken advantage of him. When a drummer had been knocking about in +little drab towns and crawling across the wintry country in dirty +smokingcars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced upon a fine +human creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a man? + +While the little drummer was drinking to recover his nerve, Alexandra +hurried to the drug store as the most likely place to find Carl +Linstrum. There he was, turning over a portfolio of chromo "studies" +which the druggist sold to the Hanover women who did chinapainting. +Alexandra explained her predicament, and the boy followed her to +the corner, where Emil still sat by the pole. + +"I'll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot +they have some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute." Carl +thrust his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up +the street against the north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, +slight and narrow-chested. When he came back with the spikes, +Alexandra asked him what he had done with his overcoat. + +"I left it in the drug store. I couldn't climb in it, anyhow. +Catch me if I fall, Emil," he called back as he began his ascent. +Alexandra watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the +ground. The kitten would not budge an inch. Carl had to go to +the very top of the pole, and then had some difficulty in tearing +her from her hold. When he reached the ground, he handed the cat +to her tearful little master. "Now go into the store with her, +Emil, and get warm." He opened the door for the child. "Wait a +minute, Alexandra. Why can't I drive for you as far as our place? +It's getting colder every minute. Have you seen the doctor?" + +"Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father can't +get better; can't get well." The girl's lip trembled. She looked +fixedly up the bleak street as if she were gathering her strength +to face something, as if she were trying with all her might to +grasp a situation which, no matter how painful, must be met and +dealt with somehow. The wind flapped the skirts of her heavy coat +about her. + +Carl did not say anything, but she felt his sympathy. He, too, was +lonely. He was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very +quiet in all his movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin +face, and his mouth was too sensitive for a boy's. The lips had +already a little curl of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends +stood for a few moments on the windy street corner, not speaking +a word, as two travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand +and admit their perplexity in silence. When Carl turned away he +said, "I'll see to your team." Alexandra went into the store to +have her purchases packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm before +she set out on her long cold drive. + +When she looked for Emil, she found him sitting on a step of the +staircase that led up to the clothing and carpet department. He +was playing with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was +tying her handkerchief over the kitten's head for a bonnet. Marie +was a stranger in the country, having come from Omaha with her mother +to visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. She was a dark child, with brown +curly hair, like a brunette doll's, a coaxing little red mouth, and +round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one noticed her eyes; the brown +iris had golden glints that made them look like gold-stone, or, in +softer lights, like that Colorado mineral called tiger-eye. + +The country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their +shoe-tops, but this city child was dressed in what was then called +the "Kate Greenaway" manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered +full from the yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her +poke bonnet, gave her the look of a quaint little woman. She had +a white fur tippet about her neck and made no fussy objections when +Emil fingered it admiringly. Alexandra had not the heart to take +him away from so pretty a playfellow, and she let them tease the +kitten together until Joe Tovesky came in noisily and picked up +his little niece, setting her on his shoulder for every one to see. +His children were all boys, and he adored this little creature. +His cronies formed a circle about him, admiring and teasing the +little girl, who took their jokes with great good nature. They +were all delighted with her, for they seldom saw so pretty and +carefully nurtured a child. They told her that she must choose +one of them for a sweetheart, and each began pressing his suit and +offering her bribes; candy, and little pigs, and spotted calves. +She looked archly into the big, brown, mustached faces, smelling +of spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny forefinger delicately +over Joe's bristly chin and said, "Here is my sweetheart." + +The Bohemians roared with laughter, and Marie's uncle hugged her +until she cried, "Please don't, Uncle Joe! You hurt me." Each +of Joe's friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all +around, though she did not like country candy very well. Perhaps +that was why she bethought herself of Emil. "Let me down, Uncle +Joe," she said, "I want to give some of my candy to that nice little +boy I found." She walked graciously over to Emil, followed by her +lusty admirers, who formed a new circle and teased the little boy +until he hid his face in his sister's skirts, and she had to scold +him for being such a baby. + +The farm people were making preparations to start for home. The +women were checking over their groceries and pinning their big red +shawls about their heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy +with what money they had left, were showing each other new boots and +gloves and blue flannel shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking +raw alcohol, tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was said to +fortify one effectually against the cold, and they smacked their +lips after each pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every +other noise in the place, and the overheated store sounded of +their spirited language as it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens, +and kerosene. + +Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with +a brass handle. "Come," he said, "I've fed and watered your team, +and the wagon is ready." He carried Emil out and tucked him down +in the straw in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy +sleepy, but he still clung to his kitten. + +"You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. +When I get big I'll climb and get little boys' kittens for them," +he murmured drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, +Emil and his cat were both fast asleep. + +Although it was only four o'clock, the winter day was fading. The +road led southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that +glimmered in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young +faces that were turned mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, +who seemed to be looking with such anguished perplexity into the +future; upon the sombre eyes of the boy, who seemed already to be +looking into the past. The little town behind them had vanished as +if it had never been, had fallen behind the swell of the prairie, +and the stern frozen country received them into its bosom. The +homesteads were few and far apart; here and there a windmill gaunt +against the sky, a sod house crouching in a hollow. But the great +fact was the land itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little +beginnings of human society that struggled in its sombre wastes. +It was from facing this vast hardness that the boy's mouth had +become so bitter; because he felt that men were too weak to make +any mark here, that the land wanted to be let alone, to preserve +its own fierce strength, its peculiar, savage kind of beauty, its +uninterrupted mournfulness. + +The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had +less to say to each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow +penetrated to their hearts. + +"Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut wood to-day?" Carl asked. + +"Yes. I'm almost sorry I let them go, it's turned so cold. But +mother frets if the wood gets low." She stopped and put her hand +to her forehead, brushing back her hair. "I don't know what is to +become of us, Carl, if father has to die. I don't dare to think +about it. I wish we could all go with him and let the grass grow +back over everything." + +Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was the Norwegian graveyard, +where the grass had, indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy and +red, hiding even the wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a +very helpful companion, but there was nothing he could say. + +"Of course," Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, "the +boys are strong and work hard, but we've always depended so on +father that I don't see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if +there were nothing to go ahead for." + +"Does your father know?" + +"Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. +I think he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It's +a comfort to him that my chickens are laying right on through the +cold weather and bringing in a little money. I wish we could keep +his mind off such things, but I don't have much time to be with +him now." + +"I wonder if he'd like to have me bring my magic lantern over some +evening?" + +Alexandra turned her face toward him. "Oh, Carl! Have you got +it?" + +"Yes. It's back there in the straw. Didn't you notice the box +I was carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, +and it worked ever so well, makes fine big pictures." + +"What are they about?" + +"Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny +pictures about cannibals. I'm going to paint some slides for it +on glass, out of the Hans Andersen book." + +Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of +the child left in people who have had to grow up too soon. "Do +bring it over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I'm sure it +will please father. Are the pictures colored? Then I know he'll +like them. He likes the calendars I get him in town. I wish I +could get more. You must leave me here, mustn't you? It's been +nice to have company." + +Carl stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. +"It's pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but +I think I'd better light your lantern, in case you should need it." + +He gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where +he crouched down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen +trials he succeeded in lighting the lantern, which he placed in +front of Alexandra, half covering it with a blanket so that the +light would not shine in her eyes. "Now, wait until I find my box. +Yes, here it is. Good-night, Alexandra. Try not to worry." Carl +sprang to the ground and ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum +homestead. "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!" he called back as he disappeared over +a ridge and dropped into a sand gully. The wind answered him like +an echo, "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!" Alexandra drove off alone. The +rattle of her wagon was lost in the howling of the wind, but her +lantern, held firmly between her feet, made a moving point of light +along the highway, going deeper and deeper into the dark country. + + + +II + + +On one of the ridges of that wintry waste stood the low log house +in which John Bergson was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier +to find than many another, because it overlooked Norway Creek, a +shallow, muddy stream that sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood +still, at the bottom of a winding ravine with steep, shelving sides +overgrown with brush and cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This creek +gave a sort of identity to the farms that bordered upon it. Of all +the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human +landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening. The +houses on the Divide were small and were usually tucked away +in low places; you did not see them until you came directly upon +them. Most of them were built of the sod itself, and were only +the unescapable ground in another form. The roads were but faint +tracks in the grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. The +record of the plow was insignificant, like the feeble scratches on +stone left by prehistoric races, so indeterminate that they may, +after all, be only the markings of glaciers, and not a record of +human strivings. + +In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression +upon the wild land he had come to tame. It was still a wild thing +that had its ugly moods; and no one knew when they were likely to +come, or why. Mischance hung over it. Its Genius was unfriendly +to man. The sick man was feeling this as he lay looking out of +the window, after the doctor had left him, on the day following +Alexandra's trip to town. There it lay outside his door, the same +land, the same lead-colored miles. He knew every ridge and draw +and gully between him and the horizon. To the south, his plowed +fields; to the east, the sod stables, the cattle corral, the pond, +--and then the grass. + +Bergson went over in his mind the things that had held him back. +One winter his cattle had perished in a blizzard. The next summer +one of his plow horses broke its leg in a prairiedog hole and had +to be shot. Another summer he lost his hogs from cholera, and +a valuable stallion died from a rattlesnake bite. Time and again +his crops had failed. He had lost two children, boys, that came +between Lou and Emil, and there had been the cost of sickness and +death. Now, when he had at last struggled out of debt, he was +going to die himself. He was only forty-six, and had, of course, +counted upon more time. + +Bergson had spent his first five years on the Divide getting into +debt, and the last six getting out. He had paid off his mortgages +and had ended pretty much where he began, with the land. He owned +exactly six hundred and forty acres of what stretched outside his +door; his own original homestead and timber claim, making three +hundred and twenty acres, and the half-section adjoining, the +homestead of a younger brother who had given up the fight, gone +back to Chicago to work in a fancy bakery and distinguish himself +in a Swedish athletic club. So far John had not attempted to +cultivate the second half-section, but used it for pasture land, +and one of his sons rode herd there in open weather. + +John Bergson had the Old-World belief that land, in itself, is +desirable. But this land was an enigma. It was like a horse that +no one knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks +things to pieces. He had an idea that no one understood how to +farm it properly, and this he often discussed with Alexandra. Their +neighbors, certainly, knew even less about farming than he did. +Many of them had never worked on a farm until they took up their +homesteads. They had been HANDWERKERS at home; tailors, locksmiths, +joiners, cigar-makers, etc. Bergson himself had worked in a +shipyard. + +For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking about these things. His +bed stood in the sitting-room, next to the kitchen. Through the +day, while the baking and washing and ironing were going on, the +father lay and looked up at the roof beams that he himself had +hewn, or out at the cattle in the corral. He counted the cattle +over and over. It diverted him to speculate as to how much weight +each of the steers would probably put on by spring. He often called +his daughter in to talk to her about this. Before Alexandra was +twelve years old she had begun to be a help to him, and as she grew +older he had come to depend more and more upon her resourcefulness +and good judgment. His boys were willing enough to work, but when +he talked with them they usually irritated him. It was Alexandra +who read the papers and followed the markets, and who learned by +the mistakes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who could always +tell about what it had cost to fatten each steer, and who could +guess the weight of a hog before it went on the scales closer than +John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar were industrious, but he could +never teach them to use their heads about their work. + +Alexandra, her father often said to himself, was like her +grandfather; which was his way of saying that she was intelligent. +John Bergson's father had been a shipbuilder, a man of considerable +force and of some fortune. Late in life he married a second time, +a Stockholm woman of questionable character, much younger than he, +who goaded him into every sort of extravagance. On the shipbuilder's +part, this marriage was an infatuation, the despairing folly of +a powerful man who cannot bear to grow old. In a few years his +unprincipled wife warped the probity of a lifetime. He speculated, +lost his own fortune and funds entrusted to him by poor seafaring +men, and died disgraced, leaving his children nothing. But when all +was said, he had come up from the sea himself, had built up a proud +little business with no capital but his own skill and foresight, and +had proved himself a man. In his daughter, John Bergson recognized +the strength of will, and the simple direct way of thinking things +out, that had characterized his father in his better days. He +would much rather, of course, have seen this likeness in one of +his sons, but it was not a question of choice. As he lay there +day after day he had to accept the situation as it was, and to be +thankful that there was one among his children to whom he could +entrust the future of his family and the possibilities of his +hard-won land. + +The winter twilight was fading. The sick man heard his wife strike +a match in the kitchen, and the light of a lamp glimmered through +the cracks of the door. It seemed like a light shining far away. +He turned painfully in his bed and looked at his white hands, with +all the work gone out of them. He was ready to give up, he felt. +He did not know how it had come about, but he was quite willing to +go deep under his fields and rest, where the plow could not find +him. He was tired of making mistakes. He was content to leave the +tangle to other hands; he thought of his Alexandra's strong ones. + +"DOTTER," he called feebly, "DOTTER!" He heard her quick step and +saw her tall figure appear in the doorway, with the light of the +lamp behind her. He felt her youth and strength, how easily she +moved and stooped and lifted. But he would not have had it again +if he could, not he! He knew the end too well to wish to begin +again. He knew where it all went to, what it all became. + +His daughter came and lifted him up on his pillows. She called +him by an old Swedish name that she used to call him when she was +little and took his dinner to him in the shipyard. + +"Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I want to speak to them." + +"They are feeding the horses, father. They have just come back +from the Blue. Shall I call them?" + +He sighed. "No, no. Wait until they come in. Alexandra, you will +have to do the best you can for your brothers. Everything will +come on you." + +"I will do all I can, father." + +"Don't let them get discouraged and go off like Uncle Otto. I want +them to keep the land." + +"We will, father. We will never lose the land." + +There was a sound of heavy feet in the kitchen. Alexandra went +to the door and beckoned to her brothers, two strapping boys of +seventeen and nineteen. They came in and stood at the foot of the +bed. Their father looked at them searchingly, though it was too +dark to see their faces; they were just the same boys, he told +himself, he had not been mistaken in them. The square head and +heavy shoulders belonged to Oscar, the elder. The younger boy was +quicker, but vacillating. + +"Boys," said the father wearily, "I want you to keep the land +together and to be guided by your sister. I have talked to her +since I have been sick, and she knows all my wishes. I want no +quarrels among my children, and so long as there is one house there +must be one head. Alexandra is the oldest, and she knows my wishes. +She will do the best she can. If she makes mistakes, she will not +make so many as I have made. When you marry, and want a house of +your own, the land will be divided fairly, according to the courts. +But for the next few years you will have it hard, and you must all +keep together. Alexandra will manage the best she can." + +Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, replied because he +was the older, "Yes, father. It would be so anyway, without your +speaking. We will all work the place together." + +"And you will be guided by your sister, boys, and be good brothers +to her, and good sons to your mother? That is good. And Alexandra +must not work in the fields any more. There is no necessity now. +Hire a man when you need help. She can make much more with her +eggs and butter than the wages of a man. It was one of my mistakes +that I did not find that out sooner. Try to break a little more +land every year; sod corn is good for fodder. Keep turning the +land, and always put up more hay than you need. Don't grudge your +mother a little time for plowing her garden and setting out fruit +trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has been a good +mother to you, and she has always missed the old country." + +When they went back to the kitchen the boys sat down silently at +the table. Throughout the meal they looked down at their plates +and did not lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, although +they had been working in the cold all day, and there was a rabbit +stewed in gravy for supper, and prune pies. + +John Bergson had married beneath him, but he had married a good +housewife. Mrs. Bergson was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy +and placid like her son, Oscar, but there was something comfortable +about her; perhaps it was her own love of comfort. For eleven years +she had worthily striven to maintain some semblance of household +order amid conditions that made order very difficult. Habit +was very strong with Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting efforts to +repeat the routine of her old life among new surroundings had done +a great deal to keep the family from disintegrating morally and +getting careless in their ways. The Bergsons had a log house, for +instance, only because Mrs. Bergson would not live in a sod house. +She missed the fish diet of her own country, and twice every summer +she sent the boys to the river, twenty miles to the southward, to +fish for channel cat. When the children were little she used to +load them all into the wagon, the baby in its crib, and go fishing +herself. + +Alexandra often said that if her mother were cast upon a desert +island, she would thank God for her deliverance, make a garden, +and find something to preserve. Preserving was almost a mania with +Mrs. Bergson. Stout as she was, she roamed the scrubby banks of +Norway Creek looking for fox grapes and goose plums, like a wild +creature in search of prey. She made a yellow jam of the insipid +ground-cherries that grew on the prairie, flavoring it with lemon +peel; and she made a sticky dark conserve of garden tomatoes. She +had experimented even with the rank buffalo-pea, and she could +not see a fine bronze cluster of them without shaking her head and +murmuring, "What a pity!" When there was nothing more to preserve, +she began to pickle. The amount of sugar she used in these processes +was sometimes a serious drain upon the family resources. She was +a good mother, but she was glad when her children were old enough +not to be in her way in the kitchen. She had never quite forgiven +John Bergson for bringing her to the end of the earth; but, now +that she was there, she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct her +old life in so far as that was possible. She could still take some +comfort in the world if she had bacon in the cave, glass jars on +the shelves, and sheets in the press. She disapproved of all her +neighbors because of their slovenly housekeeping, and the women +thought her very proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on her way to +Norway Creek, stopped to see old Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in +the haymow "for fear Mis' Bergson would catch her barefoot." + + + +III + + +One Sunday afternoon in July, six months after John Bergson's death, +Carl was sitting in the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming +over an illustrated paper, when he heard the rattle of a wagon along +the hill road. Looking up he recognized the Bergsons' team, with +two seats in the wagon, which meant they were off for a pleasure +excursion. Oscar and Lou, on the front seat, wore their cloth hats +and coats, never worn except on Sundays, and Emil, on the second +seat with Alexandra, sat proudly in his new trousers, made from a +pair of his father's, and a pink-striped shirt, with a wide ruffled +collar. Oscar stopped the horses and waved to Carl, who caught up +his hat and ran through the melon patch to join them. + +"Want to go with us?" Lou called. "We're going to Crazy Ivar's to +buy a hammock." + +"Sure." Carl ran up panting, and clambering over the wheel sat +down beside Emil. "I've always wanted to see Ivar's pond. They +say it's the biggest in all the country. Aren't you afraid to go +to Ivar's in that new shirt, Emil? He might want it and take it +right off your back." + +Emil grinned. "I'd be awful scared to go," he admitted, "if you +big boys weren't along to take care of me. Did you ever hear him +howl, Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the country howling +at night because he is afraid the Lord will destroy him. Mother +thinks he must have done something awful wicked." + +Lou looked back and winked at Carl. "What would you do, Emil, if +you was out on the prairie by yourself and seen him coming?" + +Emil stared. "Maybe I could hide in a badger-hole," he suggested +doubtfully. + +"But suppose there wasn't any badger-hole," Lou persisted. "Would +you run?" + +"No, I'd be too scared to run," Emil admitted mournfully, twisting +his fingers. "I guess I'd sit right down on the ground and say my +prayers." + +The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished his whip over the broad +backs of the horses. + +"He wouldn't hurt you, Emil," said Carl persuasively. "He came +to doctor our mare when she ate green corn and swelled up most as +big as the water-tank. He petted her just like you do your cats. +I couldn't understand much he said, for he don't talk any English, +but he kept patting her and groaning as if he had the pain himself, +and saying, 'There now, sister, that's easier, that's better!'" + +Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled delightedly and looked up +at his sister. + +"I don't think he knows anything at all about doctoring," said +Oscar scornfully. "They say when horses have distemper he takes +the medicine himself, and then prays over the horses." + +Alexandra spoke up. "That's what the Crows said, but he cured +their horses, all the same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. +But if you can get him on a clear day, you can learn a great deal +from him. He understands animals. Didn't I see him take the horn +off the Berquist's cow when she had torn it loose and went crazy? +She was tearing all over the place, knocking herself against things. +And at last she ran out on the roof of the old dugout and her legs +went through and there she stuck, bellowing. Ivar came running +with his white bag, and the moment he got to her she was quiet and +let him saw her horn off and daub the place with tar." + +Emil had been watching his sister, his face reflecting the sufferings +of the cow. "And then didn't it hurt her any more?" he asked. + +Alexandra patted him. "No, not any more. And in two days they +could use her milk again." + +The road to Ivar's homestead was a very poor one. He had settled +in the rough country across the county line, where no one lived but +some Russians,--half a dozen families who dwelt together in one long +house, divided off like barracks. Ivar had explained his choice +by saying that the fewer neighbors he had, the fewer temptations. +Nevertheless, when one considered that his chief business was +horsedoctoring, it seemed rather short-sighted of him to live in the +most inaccessible place he could find. The Bergson wagon lurched +along over the rough hummocks and grass banks, followed the bottom +of winding draws, or skirted the margin of wide lagoons, where the +golden coreopsis grew up out of the clear water and the wild ducks +rose with a whirr of wings. + +Lou looked after them helplessly. "I wish I'd brought my gun, +anyway, Alexandra," he said fretfully. "I could have hidden it +under the straw in the bottom of the wagon." + +"Then we'd have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, they say he can smell +dead birds. And if he knew, we wouldn't get anything out of him, +not even a hammock. I want to talk to him, and he won't talk sense +if he's angry. It makes him foolish." + +Lou sniffed. "Whoever heard of him talking sense, anyhow! I'd +rather have ducks for supper than Crazy Ivar's tongue." + +Emil was alarmed. "Oh, but, Lou, you don't want to make him mad! +He might howl!" + +They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the horses up the crumbling +side of a clay bank. They had left the lagoons and the red grass +behind them. In Crazy Ivar's country the grass was short and gray, +the draws deeper than they were in the Bergsons' neighborhood, +and the land was all broken up into hillocks and clay ridges. The +wild flowers disappeared, and only in the bottom of the draws and +gullies grew a few of the very toughest and hardiest: shoestring, +and ironweed, and snow-on-the-mountain. + +"Look, look, Emil, there's Ivar's big pond!" Alexandra pointed to +a shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. +At one end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow +bushes, and above it a door and a single window were set into the +hillside. You would not have seen them at all but for the reflection +of the sunlight upon the four panes of window-glass. And that was +all you saw. Not a shed, not a corral, not a well, not even a path +broken in the curly grass. But for the piece of rusty stovepipe +sticking up through the sod, you could have walked over the roof +of Ivar's dwelling without dreaming that you were near a human +habitation. Ivar had lived for three years in the clay bank, +without defiling the face of nature any more than the coyote that +had lived there before him had done. + +When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar was sitting in the +doorway of his house, reading the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly +shaped old man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs. +His shaggy white hair, falling in a thick mane about his ruddy +cheeks, made him look older than he was. He was barefoot, but +he wore a clean shirt of unbleached cotton, open at the neck. He +always put on a clean shirt when Sunday morning came round, though +he never went to church. He had a peculiar religion of his own +and could not get on with any of the denominations. Often he did +not see anybody from one week's end to another. He kept a calendar, +and every morning he checked off a day, so that he was never in +any doubt as to which day of the week it was. Ivar hired himself +out in threshing and corn-husking time, and he doctored sick animals +when he was sent for. When he was at home, he made hammocks out +of twine and committed chapters of the Bible to memory. + +Ivar found contentment in the solitude he had sought out for himself. +He disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the +bits of broken china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown +into the sunflower patch. He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of +the wild sod. He always said that the badgers had cleaner houses +than people, and that when he took a housekeeper her name would +be Mrs. Badger. He best expressed his preference for his wild +homestead by saying that his Bible seemed truer to him there. If +one stood in the doorway of his cave, and looked off at the rough +land, the smiling sky, the curly grass white in the hot sunlight; +if one listened to the rapturous song of the lark, the drumming of +the quail, the burr of the locust against that vast silence, one +understood what Ivar meant. + +On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with happiness. He closed +the book on his knee, keeping the place with his horny finger, and +repeated softly:- + +He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills; + +They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench +their thirst. + +The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which +he hath planted; + +Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees +are her house. + +The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for +the conies. + +Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard the Bergsons' wagon +approaching, and he sprang up and ran toward it. + +"No guns, no guns!" he shouted, waving his arms distractedly. + +"No, Ivar, no guns," Alexandra called reassuringly. + +He dropped his arms and went up to the wagon, smiling amiably and +looking at them out of his pale blue eyes. + +"We want to buy a hammock, if you have one," Alexandra explained, +"and my little brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where so +many birds come." + +Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the horses' noses and +feeling about their mouths behind the bits. "Not many birds just +now. A few ducks this morning; and some snipe come to drink. But +there was a crane last week. She spent one night and came back the +next evening. I don't know why. It is not her season, of course. +Many of them go over in the fall. Then the pond is full of strange +voices every night." + +Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked thoughtful. "Ask him, +Alexandra, if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have +heard so." + +She had some difficulty in making the old man understand. + +He looked puzzled at first, then smote his hands together as he +remembered. "Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and +pink feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in the afternoon +and kept flying about the pond and screaming until dark. She was +in trouble of some sort, but I could not understand her. She was +going over to the other ocean, maybe, and did not know how far it +was. She was afraid of never getting there. She was more mournful +than our birds here; she cried in the night. She saw the light +from my window and darted up to it. Maybe she thought my house +was a boat, she was such a wild thing. Next morning, when the sun +rose, I went out to take her food, but she flew up into the sky +and went on her way." Ivar ran his fingers through his thick hair. +"I have many strange birds stop with me here. They come from very +far away and are great company. I hope you boys never shoot wild +birds?" + +Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his bushy head. "Yes, I know +boys are thoughtless. But these wild things are God's birds. He +watches over them and counts them, as we do our cattle; Christ says +so in the New Testament." + +"Now, Ivar," Lou asked, "may we water our horses at your pond and +give them some feed? It's a bad road to your place." + +"Yes, yes, it is." The old man scrambled about and began to loose +the tugs. "A bad road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at +home!" + +Oscar brushed the old man aside. "We'll take care of the horses, +Ivar. You'll be finding some disease on them. Alexandra wants to +see your hammocks." + +Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little cave house. He had but +one room, neatly plastered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden +floor. There was a kitchen stove, a table covered with oilcloth, +two chairs, a clock, a calendar, a few books on the window-shelf; +nothing more. But the place was as clean as a cupboard. + +"But where do you sleep, Ivar?" Emil asked, looking about. + +Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the wall; in it was rolled +a buffalo robe. "There, my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in +winter I wrap up in this skin. Where I go to work, the beds are +not half so easy as this." + +By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. He thought a cave a +very superior kind of house. There was something pleasantly unusual +about it and about Ivar. "Do the birds know you will be kind to +them, Ivar? Is that why so many come?" he asked. + +Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his feet under him. "See, +little brother, they have come from a long way, and they are very +tired. From up there where they are flying, our country looks dark +and flat. They must have water to drink and to bathe in before +they can go on with their journey. They look this way and that, +and far below them they see something shining, like a piece of glass +set in the dark earth. That is my pond. They come to it and are +not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a little corn. They tell the other +birds, and next year more come this way. They have their roads up +there, as we have down here." + +Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. "And is that true, Ivar, about +the head ducks falling back when they are tired, and the hind ones +taking their place?" + +"Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst of it; they cut the +wind. They can only stand it there a little while--half an hour, +maybe. Then they fall back and the wedge splits a little, while +the rear ones come up the middle to the front. Then it closes up +and they fly on, with a new edge. They are always changing like +that, up in the air. Never any confusion; just like soldiers who +have been drilled." + +Alexandra had selected her hammock by the time the boys came up +from the pond. They would not come in, but sat in the shade of +the bank outside while Alexandra and Ivar talked about the birds +and about his housekeeping, and why he never ate meat, fresh or +salt. + +Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, her arms resting +on the table. Ivar was sitting on the floor at her feet. "Ivar," +she said suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the oilcloth +with her forefinger, "I came to-day more because I wanted to talk +to you than because I wanted to buy a hammock." + +"Yes?" The old man scraped his bare feet on the plank floor. + +"We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I wouldn't sell in the spring, +when everybody advised me to, and now so many people are losing +their hogs that I am frightened. What can be done?" + +Ivar's little eyes began to shine. They lost their vagueness. + +"You feed them swill and such stuff? Of course! And sour milk? +Oh, yes! And keep them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, +the hogs of this country are put upon! They become unclean, like +the hogs in the Bible. If you kept your chickens like that, what +would happen? You have a little sorghum patch, maybe? Put a fence +around it, and turn the hogs in. Build a shed to give them shade, +a thatch on poles. Let the boys haul water to them in barrels, +clean water, and plenty. Get them off the old stinking ground, and +do not let them go back there until winter. Give them only grain +and clean feed, such as you would give horses or cattle. Hogs do +not like to be filthy." + +The boys outside the door had been listening. Lou nudged his +brother. "Come, the horses are done eating. Let's hitch up and +get out of here. He'll fill her full of notions. She'll be for +having the pigs sleep with us, next." + +Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could not understand what Ivar +said, saw that the two boys were displeased. They did not mind +hard work, but they hated experiments and could never see the use +of taking pains. Even Lou, who was more elastic than his older +brother, disliked to do anything different from their neighbors. +He felt that it made them conspicuous and gave people a chance to +talk about them. + +Once they were on the homeward road, the boys forgot their ill-humor +and joked about Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose any +reforms in the care of the pigs, and they hoped she had forgotten +Ivar's talk. They agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would +never be able to prove up on his land because he worked it so little. +Alexandra privately resolved that she would have a talk with Ivar +about this and stir him up. The boys persuaded Carl to stay for +supper and go swimming in the pasture pond after dark. + +That evening, after she had washed the supper dishes, Alexandra +sat down on the kitchen doorstep, while her mother was mixing the +bread. It was a still, deep-breathing summer night, full of the +smell of the hay fields. Sounds of laughter and splashing came +up from the pasture, and when the moon rose rapidly above the bare +rim of the prairie, the pond glittered like polished metal, and +she could see the flash of white bodies as the boys ran about the +edge, or jumped into the water. Alexandra watched the shimmering +pool dreamily, but eventually her eyes went back to the sorghum +patch south of the barn, where she was planning to make her new +pig corral. + + + +IV + + +For the first three years after John Bergson's death, the affairs +of his family prospered. Then came the hard times that brought +every one on the Divide to the brink of despair; three years of +drouth and failure, the last struggle of a wild soil against the +encroaching plowshare. The first of these fruitless summers the +Bergson boys bore courageously. The failure of the corn crop made +labor cheap. Lou and Oscar hired two men and put in bigger crops +than ever before. They lost everything they spent. The whole +country was discouraged. Farmers who were already in debt had to +give up their land. A few foreclosures demoralized the county. +The settlers sat about on the wooden sidewalks in the little town +and told each other that the country was never meant for men to live +in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, to Illinois, to any +place that had been proved habitable. The Bergson boys, certainly, +would have been happier with their uncle Otto, in the bakery shop +in Chicago. Like most of their neighbors, they were meant to follow +in paths already marked out for them, not to break trails in a new +country. A steady job, a few holidays, nothing to think about, and +they would have been very happy. It was no fault of theirs that +they had been dragged into the wilderness when they were little +boys. A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy +the idea of things more than the things themselves. + +The second of these barren summers was passing. One September +afternoon Alexandra had gone over to the garden across the draw to +dig sweet potatoes--they had been thriving upon the weather that +was fatal to everything else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the +garden rows to find her, she was not working. She was standing +lost in thought, leaning upon her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying +beside her on the ground. The dry garden patch smelled of drying +vines and was strewn with yellow seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and +citrons. At one end, next the rhubarb, grew feathery asparagus, +with red berries. Down the middle of the garden was a row of +gooseberry and currant bushes. A few tough zenias and marigolds +and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the buckets of water +that Mrs. Bergson had carried there after sundown, against the +prohibition of her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the garden +path, looking intently at Alexandra. She did not hear him. She was +standing perfectly still, with that serious ease so characteristic +of her. Her thick, reddish braids, twisted about her head, fairly +burned in the sunlight. The air was cool enough to make the warm +sun pleasant on one's back and shoulders, and so clear that the +eye could follow a hawk up and up, into the blazing blue depths of +the sky. Even Carl, never a very cheerful boy, and considerably +darkened by these last two bitter years, loved the country on days +like this, felt something strong and young and wild come out of +it, that laughed at care. + +"Alexandra," he said as he approached her, "I want to talk to you. +Let's sit down by the gooseberry bushes." He picked up her sack +of potatoes and they crossed the garden. "Boys gone to town?" he +asked as he sank down on the warm, sun-baked earth. "Well, we have +made up our minds at last, Alexandra. We are really going away." + +She looked at him as if she were a little frightened. "Really, +Carl? Is it settled?" + +"Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and they will give him back +his old job in the cigar factory. He must be there by the first +of November. They are taking on new men then. We will sell the +place for whatever we can get, and auction the stock. We haven't +enough to ship. I am going to learn engraving with a German engraver +there, and then try to get work in Chicago." + +Alexandra's hands dropped in her lap. Her eyes became dreamy and +filled with tears. + +Carl's sensitive lower lip trembled. He scratched in the soft earth +beside him with a stick. "That's all I hate about it, Alexandra," +he said slowly. "You've stood by us through so much and helped +father out so many times, and now it seems as if we were running +off and leaving you to face the worst of it. But it isn't as if +we could really ever be of any help to you. We are only one more +drag, one more thing you look out for and feel responsible for. +Father was never meant for a farmer, you know that. And I hate +it. We'd only get in deeper and deeper." + +"Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting your life here. You are +able to do much better things. You are nearly nineteen now, and +I wouldn't have you stay. I've always hoped you would get away. +But I can't help feeling scared when I think how I will miss you-- +more than you will ever know." She brushed the tears from her +cheeks, not trying to hide them. + +"But, Alexandra," he said sadly and wistfully, "I've never been +any real help to you, beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in +a good humor." + +Alexandra smiled and shook her head. "Oh, it's not that. Nothing +like that. It's by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, +that you've helped me. I expect that is the only way one person +ever really can help another. I think you are about the only one +that ever helped me. Somehow it will take more courage to bear +your going than everything that has happened before." + +Carl looked at the ground. "You see, we've all depended so on you," +he said, "even father. He makes me laugh. When anything comes up +he always says, 'I wonder what the Bergsons are going to do about +that? I guess I'll go and ask her.' I'll never forget that time, +when we first came here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran +over to your place--your father was away, and you came home with me +and showed father how to let the wind out of the horse. You were +only a little girl then, but you knew ever so much more about farm +work than poor father. You remember how homesick I used to get, +and what long talks we used to have coming from school? We've +someway always felt alike about things." + +"Yes, that's it; we've liked the same things and we've liked them +together, without anybody else knowing. And we've had good times, +hunting for Christmas trees and going for ducks and making our plum +wine together every year. We've never either of us had any other +close friend. And now--" Alexandra wiped her eyes with the corner +of her apron, "and now I must remember that you are going where +you will have many friends, and will find the work you were meant +to do. But you'll write to me, Carl? That will mean a great deal +to me here." + +"I'll write as long as I live," cried the boy impetuously. "And +I'll be working for you as much as for myself, Alexandra. I want +to do something you'll like and be proud of. I'm a fool here, but +I know I can do something!" He sat up and frowned at the red grass. + +Alexandra sighed. "How discouraged the boys will be when they +hear. They always come home from town discouraged, anyway. So +many people are trying to leave the country, and they talk to our +boys and make them low-spirited. I'm afraid they are beginning to +feel hard toward me because I won't listen to any talk about going. +Sometimes I feel like I'm getting tired of standing up for this +country." + +"I won't tell the boys yet, if you'd rather not." + +"Oh, I'll tell them myself, to-night, when they come home. They'll +be talking wild, anyway, and no good comes of keeping bad news. +It's all harder on them than it is on me. Lou wants to get married, +poor boy, and he can't until times are better. See, there goes the +sun, Carl. I must be getting back. Mother will want her potatoes. +It's chilly already, the moment the light goes." + +Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden afterglow throbbed in +the west, but the country already looked empty and mournful. A dark +moving mass came over the western hill, the Lee boy was bringing in +the herd from the other half-section. Emil ran from the windmill +to open the corral gate. From the log house, on the little rise +across the draw, the smoke was curling. The cattle lowed and +bellowed. In the sky the pale half-moon was slowly silvering. +Alexandra and Carl walked together down the potato rows. "I have +to keep telling myself what is going to happen," she said softly. +"Since you have been here, ten years now, I have never really been +lonely. But I can remember what it was like before. Now I shall +have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and he is tender-hearted." + +That night, when the boys were called to supper, they sat down +moodily. They had worn their coats to town, but they ate in their +striped shirts and suspenders. They were grown men now, and, as +Alexandra said, for the last few years they had been growing more +and more like themselves. Lou was still the slighter of the two, +the quicker and more intelligent, but apt to go off at half-cock. +He had a lively blue eye, a thin, fair skin (always burned red to +the neckband of his shirt in summer), stiff, yellow hair that would +not lie down on his head, and a bristly little yellow mustache, +of which he was very proud. Oscar could not grow a mustache; his +pale face was as bare as an egg, and his white eyebrows gave it an +empty look. He was a man of powerful body and unusual endurance; +the sort of man you could attach to a corn-sheller as you would +an engine. He would turn it all day, without hurrying, without +slowing down. But he was as indolent of mind as he was unsparing +of his body. His love of routine amounted to a vice. He worked +like an insect, always doing the same thing over in the same way, +regardless of whether it was best or no. He felt that there was +a sovereign virtue in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to +do things in the hardest way. If a field had once been in corn, +he couldn't bear to put it into wheat. He liked to begin his +corn-planting at the same time every year, whether the season were +backward or forward. He seemed to feel that by his own irreproachable +regularity he would clear himself of blame and reprove the weather. +When the wheat crop failed, he threshed the straw at a dead loss +to demonstrate how little grain there was, and thus prove his case +against Providence. + +Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and flighty; always planned to +get through two days' work in one, and often got only the least +important things done. He liked to keep the place up, but he never +got round to doing odd jobs until he had to neglect more pressing +work to attend to them. In the middle of the wheat harvest, when +the grain was over-ripe and every hand was needed, he would stop +to mend fences or to patch the harness; then dash down to the +field and overwork and be laid up in bed for a week. The two boys +balanced each other, and they pulled well together. They had been +good friends since they were children. One seldom went anywhere, +even to town, without the other. + +To-night, after they sat down to supper, Oscar kept looking at Lou +as if he expected him to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes +and frowned at his plate. It was Alexandra herself who at last +opened the discussion. + +"The Linstrums," she said calmly, as she put another plate of hot +biscuit on the table, "are going back to St. Louis. The old man +is going to work in the cigar factory again." + +At this Lou plunged in. "You see, Alexandra, everybody who can +crawl out is going away. There's no use of us trying to stick it +out, just to be stubborn. There's something in knowing when to +quit." + +"Where do you want to go, Lou?" + +"Any place where things will grow." said Oscar grimly. + +Lou reached for a potato. "Chris Arnson has traded his half-section +for a place down on the river." + +"Who did he trade with?" + +"Charley Fuller, in town." + +"Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, that Fuller has a head +on him. He's buying and trading for every bit of land he can get +up here. It'll make him a rich man, some day." + +"He's rich now, that's why he can take a chance." + +"Why can't we? We'll live longer than he will. Some day the land +itself will be worth more than all we can ever raise on it." + +Lou laughed. "It could be worth that, and still not be worth +much. Why, Alexandra, you don't know what you're talking about. +Our place wouldn't bring now what it would six years ago. The +fellows that settled up here just made a mistake. Now they're +beginning to see this high land wasn't never meant to grow nothing +on, and everybody who ain't fixed to graze cattle is trying to +crawl out. It's too high to farm up here. All the Americans are +skinning out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, told me that +he was going to let Fuller take his land and stuff for four hundred +dollars and a ticket to Chicago." + +"There's Fuller again!" Alexandra exclaimed. "I wish that man +would take me for a partner. He's feathering his nest! If only +poor people could learn a little from rich people! But all these +fellows who are running off are bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. +They couldn't get ahead even in good years, and they all got into +debt while father was getting out. I think we ought to hold on as +long as we can on father's account. He was so set on keeping this +land. He must have seen harder times than this, here. How was it +in the early days, mother?" + +Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These family discussions always +depressed her, and made her remember all that she had been torn +away from. "I don't see why the boys are always taking on about +going away," she said, wiping her eyes. "I don't want to move +again; out to some raw place, maybe, where we'd be worse off than +we are here, and all to do over again. I won't move! If the rest +of you go, I will ask some of the neighbors to take me in, and stay +and be buried by father. I'm not going to leave him by himself +on the prairie, for cattle to run over." She began to cry more +bitterly. + +The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a soothing hand on her mother's +shoulder. "There's no question of that, mother. You don't have +to go if you don't want to. A third of the place belongs to you +by American law, and we can't sell without your consent. We only +want you to advise us. How did it use to be when you and father +first came? Was it really as bad as this, or not?" + +"Oh, worse! Much worse," moaned Mrs. Bergson. "Drouth, chince-bugs, +hail, everything! My garden all cut to pieces like sauerkraut. No +grapes on the creek, no nothing. The people all lived just like +coyotes." + +Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. Lou followed him. +They felt that Alexandra had taken an unfair advantage in turning +their mother loose on them. The next morning they were silent and +reserved. They did not offer to take the women to church, but went +down to the barn immediately after breakfast and stayed there all +day. When Carl Linstrum came over in the afternoon, Alexandra +winked to him and pointed toward the barn. He understood her and +went down to play cards with the boys. They believed that a very +wicked thing to do on Sunday, and it relieved their feelings. + +Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Bergson +always took a nap, and Alexandra read. During the week she read +only the newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long evenings of +winter, she read a good deal; read a few things over a great many +times. She knew long portions of the "Frithjof Saga" by heart, +and, like most Swedes who read at all, she was fond of Longfellow's +verse,--the ballads and the "Golden Legend" and "The Spanish Student." +To-day she sat in the wooden rocking-chair with the Swedish Bible +open on her knees, but she was not reading. She was looking +thoughtfully away at the point where the upland road disappeared +over the rim of the prairie. Her body was in an attitude of perfect +repose, such as it was apt to take when she was thinking earnestly. +Her mind was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not the least +spark of cleverness. + +All afternoon the sitting-room was full of quiet and sunlight. +Emil was making rabbit traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were +clucking and scratching brown holes in the flower beds, and the +wind was teasing the prince's feather by the door. + +That evening Carl came in with the boys to supper. + +"Emil," said Alexandra, when they were all seated at the table, +"how would you like to go traveling? Because I am going to take +a trip, and you can go with me if you want to." + +The boys looked up in amazement; they were always afraid of +Alexandra's schemes. Carl was interested. + +"I've been thinking, boys," she went on, "that maybe I am too set +against making a change. I'm going to take Brigham and the buckboard +to-morrow and drive down to the river country and spend a few days +looking over what they've got down there. If I find anything good, +you boys can go down and make a trade." + +"Nobody down there will trade for anything up here," said Oscar +gloomily. + +"That's just what I want to find out. Maybe they are just as +discontented down there as we are up here. Things away from home +often look better than they are. You know what your Hans Andersen +book says, Carl, about the Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and +the Danes liking to buy Swedish bread, because people always think +the bread of another country is better than their own. Anyway, +I've heard so much about the river farms, I won't be satisfied till +I've seen for myself." + +Lou fidgeted. "Look out! Don't agree to anything. Don't let them +fool you." + +Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not yet learned to keep +away from the shell-game wagons that followed the circus. + +After supper Lou put on a necktie and went across the fields to +court Annie Lee, and Carl and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, +while Alexandra read "The Swiss Family Robinson" aloud to her mother +and Emil. It was not long before the two boys at the table neglected +their game to listen. They were all big children together, and they +found the adventures of the family in the tree house so absorbing +that they gave them their undivided attention. + + + +V + + +Alexandra and Emil spent five days down among the river farms, +driving up and down the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about +their crops and to the women about their poultry. She spent a +whole day with one young farmer who had been away at school, and +who was experimenting with a new kind of clover hay. She learned +a great deal. As they drove along, she and Emil talked and planned. +At last, on the sixth day, Alexandra turned Brigham's head northward +and left the river behind. + +"There's nothing in it for us down there, Emil. There are a few +fine farms, but they are owned by the rich men in town, and couldn't +be bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. They can always +scrape along down there, but they can never do anything big. Down +there they have a little certainty, but up with us there is a big +chance. We must have faith in the high land, Emil. I want to hold +on harder than ever, and when you're a man you'll thank me." She +urged Brigham forward. + +When the road began to climb the first long swells of the Divide, +Alexandra hummed an old Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his +sister looked so happy. Her face was so radiant that he felt shy +about asking her. For the first time, perhaps, since that land +emerged from the waters of geologic ages, a human face was set toward +it with love and yearning. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and +strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it, until +her tears blinded her. Then the Genius of the Divide, the great, +free spirit which breathes across it, must have bent lower than +it ever bent to a human will before. The history of every country +begins in the heart of a man or a woman. + +Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. That evening she held +a family council and told her brothers all that she had seen and +heard. + +"I want you boys to go down yourselves and look it over. Nothing +will convince you like seeing with your own eyes. The river land +was settled before this, and so they are a few years ahead of us, +and have learned more about farming. The land sells for three +times as much as this, but in five years we will double it. The +rich men down there own all the best land, and they are buying +all they can get. The thing to do is to sell our cattle and what +little old corn we have, and buy the Linstrum place. Then the next +thing to do is to take out two loans on our half-sections, and buy +Peter Crow's place; raise every dollar we can, and buy every acre +we can." + +"Mortgage the homestead again?" Lou cried. He sprang up and began +to wind the clock furiously. "I won't slave to pay off another +mortgage. I'll never do it. You'd just as soon kill us all, +Alexandra, to carry out some scheme!" + +Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. "How do you propose to pay +off your mortgages?" + +Alexandra looked from one to the other and bit her lip. They had +never seen her so nervous. "See here," she brought out at last. +"We borrow the money for six years. Well, with the money we buy +a half-section from Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter +from Struble, maybe. That will give us upwards of fourteen hundred +acres, won't it? You won't have to pay off your mortgages for six +years. By that time, any of this land will be worth thirty dollars +an acre--it will be worth fifty, but we'll say thirty; then you +can sell a garden patch anywhere, and pay off a debt of sixteen +hundred dollars. It's not the principal I'm worried about, it's +the interest and taxes. We'll have to strain to meet the payments. +But as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can sit down here +ten years from now independent landowners, not struggling farmers +any longer. The chance that father was always looking for has +come." + +Lou was pacing the floor. "But how do you KNOW that land is going +to go up enough to pay the mortgages and--" + +"And make us rich besides?" Alexandra put in firmly. "I can't +explain that, Lou. You'll have to take my word for it. I KNOW, +that's all. When you drive about over the country you can feel it +coming." + +Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, his hands hanging +between his knees. "But we can't work so much land," he said +dully, as if he were talking to himself. "We can't even try. It +would just lie there and we'd work ourselves to death." He sighed, +and laid his calloused fist on the table. + +Alexandra's eyes filled with tears. She put her hand on his +shoulder. "You poor boy, you won't have to work it. The men in +town who are buying up other people's land don't try to farm it. +They are the men to watch, in a new country. Let's try to do +like the shrewd ones, and not like these stupid fellows. I don't +want you boys always to have to work like this. I want you to be +independent, and Emil to go to school." + +Lou held his head as if it were splitting. "Everybody will say we +are crazy. It must be crazy, or everybody would be doing it." + +"If they were, we wouldn't have much chance. No, Lou, I was talking +about that with the smart young man who is raising the new kind +of clover. He says the right thing is usually just what everybody +don't do. Why are we better fixed than any of our neighbors? Because +father had more brains. Our people were better people than these +in the old country. We OUGHT to do more than they do, and see +further ahead. Yes, mother, I'm going to clear the table now." + +Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable to see to the stock, +and they were gone a long while. When they came back Lou played on +his DRAGHARMONIKA and Oscar sat figuring at his father's secretary +all evening. They said nothing more about Alexandra's project, +but she felt sure now that they would consent to it. Just before +bedtime Oscar went out for a pail of water. When he did not come +back, Alexandra threw a shawl over her head and ran down the path +to the windmill. She found him sitting there with his head in his +hands, and she sat down beside him. + +"Don't do anything you don't want to do, Oscar," she whispered. +She waited a moment, but he did not stir. "I won't say any more +about it, if you'd rather not. What makes you so discouraged?" + +"I dread signing my name to them pieces of paper," he said slowly. +"All the time I was a boy we had a mortgage hanging over us." + +"Then don't sign one. I don't want you to, if you feel that way." + +Oscar shook his head. "No, I can see there's a chance that way. +I've thought a good while there might be. We're in so deep now, we +might as well go deeper. But it's hard work pulling out of debt. +Like pulling a threshingmachine out of the mud; breaks your back. +Me and Lou's worked hard, and I can't see it's got us ahead much." + +"Nobody knows about that as well as I do, Oscar. That's why I want +to try an easier way. I don't want you to have to grub for every +dollar." + +"Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it'll come out right. But signing +papers is signing papers. There ain't no maybe about that." He +took his pail and trudged up the path to the house. + +Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against +the frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so +keenly through the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch +them, to think of their vastness and distance, and of their ordered +march. It fortified her to reflect upon the great operations +of nature, and when she thought of the law that lay behind them, +she felt a sense of personal security. That night she had a new +consciousness of the country, felt almost a new relation to it. +Even her talk with the boys had not taken away the feeling that had +overwhelmed her when she drove back to the Divide that afternoon. +She had never known before how much the country meant to her. The +chirping of the insects down in the long grass had been like the +sweetest music. She had felt as if her heart were hiding down +there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and all the little +wild things that crooned or buzzed in the sun. Under the long +shaggy ridges, she felt the future stirring. + + + + + + +PART II + +Neighboring Fields + + + + +I + + +IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. His wife now lies +beside him, and the white shaft that marks their graves gleams +across the wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, he would +not know the country under which he has been asleep. The shaggy coat +of the prairie, which they lifted to make him a bed, has vanished +forever. From the Norwegian graveyard one looks out over a vast +checker-board, marked off in squares of wheat and corn; light and +dark, dark and light. Telephone wires hum along the white roads, +which always run at right angles. From the graveyard gate one can +count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the gilded weather-vanes +on the big red barns wink at each other across the green and brown +and yellow fields. The light steel windmills tremble throughout +their frames and tug at their moorings, as they vibrate in the wind +that often blows from one week's end to another across that high, +active, resolute stretch of country. + +The Divide is now thickly populated. The rich soil yields heavy +harvests; the dry, bracing climate and the smoothness of the land +make labor easy for men and beasts. There are few scenes more +gratifying than a spring plowing in that country, where the furrows +of a single field often lie a mile in length, and the brown earth, +with such a strong, clean smell, and such a power of growth and +fertility in it, yields itself eagerly to the plow; rolls away +from the shear, not even dimming the brightness of the metal, with +a soft, deep sigh of happiness. The wheatcutting sometimes goes +on all night as well as all day, and in good seasons there are +scarcely men and horses enough to do the harvesting. The grain is +so heavy that it bends toward the blade and cuts like velvet. + +There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face +of the country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the +season, holding nothing back. Like the plains of Lombardy, it +seems to rise a little to meet the sun. The air and the earth are +curiously mated and intermingled, as if the one were the breath +of the other. You feel in the atmosphere the same tonic, puissant +quality that is in the tilth, the same strength and resoluteness. + +One June morning a young man stood at the gate of the Norwegian +graveyard, sharpening his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to +the tune he was whistling. He wore a flannel cap and duck trousers, +and the sleeves of his white flannel shirt were rolled back to +the elbow. When he was satisfied with the edge of his blade, he +slipped the whetstone into his hip pocket and began to swing his +scythe, still whistling, but softly, out of respect to the quiet +folk about him. Unconscious respect, probably, for he seemed +intent upon his own thoughts, and, like the Gladiator's, they were +far away. He was a splendid figure of a boy, tall and straight +as a young pine tree, with a handsome head, and stormy gray eyes, +deeply set under a serious brow. The space between his two front +teeth, which were unusually far apart, gave him the proficiency +in whistling for which he was distinguished at college. (He also +played the cornet in the University band.) + +When the grass required his close attention, or when he had to +stoop to cut about a head-stone, he paused in his lively air,--the +"Jewel" song,--taking it up where he had left it when his scythe +swung free again. He was not thinking about the tired pioneers +over whom his blade glittered. The old wild country, the struggle +in which his sister was destined to succeed while so many men broke +their hearts and died, he can scarcely remember. That is all among +the dim things of childhood and has been forgotten in the brighter +pattern life weaves to-day, in the bright facts of being captain +of the track team, and holding the interstate record for the high +jump, in the all-suffusing brightness of being twenty-one. Yet +sometimes, in the pauses of his work, the young man frowned and +looked at the ground with an intentness which suggested that even +twenty-one might have its problems. + +When he had been mowing the better part of an hour, he heard the +rattle of a light cart on the road behind him. Supposing that it +was his sister coming back from one of her farms, he kept on with +his work. The cart stopped at the gate and a merry contralto voice +called, "Almost through, Emil?" He dropped his scythe and went +toward the fence, wiping his face and neck with his handkerchief. +In the cart sat a young woman who wore driving gauntlets and a wide +shade hat, trimmed with red poppies. Her face, too, was rather +like a poppy, round and brown, with rich color in her cheeks and +lips, and her dancing yellow-brown eyes bubbled with gayety. The +wind was flapping her big hat and teasing a curl of her chestnut-colored +hair. She shook her head at the tall youth. + +"What time did you get over here? That's not much of a job for +an athlete. Here I've been to town and back. Alexandra lets you +sleep late. Oh, I know! Lou's wife was telling me about the way +she spoils you. I was going to give you a lift, if you were done." +She gathered up her reins. + +"But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for me, Marie," Emil +coaxed. "Alexandra sent me to mow our lot, but I've done half a +dozen others, you see. Just wait till I finish off the Kourdnas'. +By the way, they were Bohemians. Why aren't they up in the Catholic +graveyard?" + +"Free-thinkers," replied the young woman laconically. + +"Lots of the Bohemian boys at the University are," said Emil, taking +up his scythe again. "What did you ever burn John Huss for, anyway? +It's made an awful row. They still jaw about it in history classes." + +"We'd do it right over again, most of us," said the young woman +hotly. "Don't they ever teach you in your history classes that +you'd all be heathen Turks if it hadn't been for the Bohemians?" + +Emil had fallen to mowing. "Oh, there's no denying you're a spunky +little bunch, you Czechs," he called back over his shoulder. + +Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat and watched the rhythmical +movement of the young man's long arms, swinging her foot as if +in time to some air that was going through her mind. The minutes +passed. Emil mowed vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and +watching the long grass fall. She sat with the ease that belongs +to persons of an essentially happy nature, who can find a comfortable +spot almost anywhere; who are supple, and quick in adapting themselves +to circumstances. After a final swish, Emil snapped the gate and +sprang into the cart, holding his scythe well out over the wheel. +"There," he sighed. "I gave old man Lee a cut or so, too. Lou's +wife needn't talk. I never see Lou's scythe over here." + +Marie clucked to her horse. "Oh, you know Annie!" She looked at +the young man's bare arms. "How brown you've got since you came +home. I wish I had an athlete to mow my orchard. I get wet to my +knees when I go down to pick cherries." + +"You can have one, any time you want him. Better wait until after +it rains." Emil squinted off at the horizon as if he were looking +for clouds. + +"Will you? Oh, there's a good boy!" She turned her head to him +with a quick, bright smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, +he had looked away with the purpose of not seeing it. "I've been +up looking at Angelique's wedding clothes," Marie went on, "and +I'm so excited I can hardly wait until Sunday. Amedee will be +a handsome bridegroom. Is anybody but you going to stand up with +him? Well, then it will be a handsome wedding party." She made a +droll face at Emil, who flushed. "Frank," Marie continued, flicking +her horse, "is cranky at me because I loaned his saddle to Jan +Smirka, and I'm terribly afraid he won't take me to the dance in +the evening. Maybe the supper will tempt him. All Angelique's +folks are baking for it, and all Amedee's twenty cousins. There +will be barrels of beer. If once I get Frank to the supper, I'll +see that I stay for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you mustn't +dance with me but once or twice. You must dance with all the French +girls. It hurts their feelings if you don't. They think you're +proud because you've been away to school or something." + +Emil sniffed. "How do you know they think that?" + +"Well, you didn't dance with them much at Raoul Marcel's party, and +I could tell how they took it by the way they looked at you--and +at me." + +"All right," said Emil shortly, studying the glittering blade of +his scythe. + +They drove westward toward Norway Creek, and toward a big white +house that stood on a hill, several miles across the fields. There +were so many sheds and outbuildings grouped about it that the +place looked not unlike a tiny village. A stranger, approaching +it, could not help noticing the beauty and fruitfulness of the +outlying fields. There was something individual about the great +farm, a most unusual trimness and care for detail. On either side +of the road, for a mile before you reached the foot of the hill, +stood tall osage orange hedges, their glossy green marking off +the yellow fields. South of the hill, in a low, sheltered swale, +surrounded by a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, its fruit trees +knee-deep in timothy grass. Any one thereabouts would have told +you that this was one of the richest farms on the Divide, and that +the farmer was a woman, Alexandra Bergson. + +If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra's big house, you will +find that it is curiously unfinished and uneven in comfort. One +room is papered, carpeted, over-furnished; the next is almost +bare. The pleasantest rooms in the house are the kitchen--where +Alexandra's three young Swedish girls chatter and cook and pickle +and preserve all summer long--and the sitting-room, in which +Alexandra has brought together the old homely furniture that the +Bergsons used in their first log house, the family portraits, and +the few things her mother brought from Sweden. + +When you go out of the house into the flower garden, there you feel +again the order and fine arrangement manifest all over the great +farm; in the fencing and hedging, in the windbreaks and sheds, in +the symmetrical pasture ponds, planted with scrub willows to give +shade to the cattle in fly-time. There is even a white row of +beehives in the orchard, under the walnut trees. You feel that, +properly, Alexandra's house is the big out-of-doors, and that it +is in the soil that she expresses herself best. + + + +II + + +Emil reached home a little past noon, and when he went into the +kitchen Alexandra was already seated at the head of the long table, +having dinner with her men, as she always did unless there were +visitors. He slipped into his empty place at his sister's right. +The three pretty young Swedish girls who did Alexandra's housework +were cutting pies, refilling coffeecups, placing platters of bread +and meat and potatoes upon the red tablecloth, and continually +getting in each other's way between the table and the stove. To be +sure they always wasted a good deal of time getting in each other's +way and giggling at each other's mistakes. But, as Alexandra had +pointedly told her sisters-in-law, it was to hear them giggle that +she kept three young things in her kitchen; the work she could +do herself, if it were necessary. These girls, with their long +letters from home, their finery, and their love-affairs, afforded +her a great deal of entertainment, and they were company for her +when Emil was away at school. + +Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty figure, mottled pink +cheeks, and yellow hair, Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps +a sharp eye upon her. Signa is apt to be skittish at mealtime, when +the men are about, and to spill the coffee or upset the cream. It +is supposed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six men at the dinner-table, +is courting Signa, though he has been so careful not to commit +himself that no one in the house, least of all Signa, can tell +just how far the matter has progressed. Nelse watches her glumly +as she waits upon the table, and in the evening he sits on a bench +behind the stove with his DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful airs +and watching her as she goes about her work. When Alexandra asked +Signa whether she thought Nelse was in earnest, the poor child hid +her hands under her apron and murmured, "I don't know, ma'm. But +he scolds me about everything, like as if he wanted to have me!" + +At Alexandra's left sat a very old man, barefoot and wearing a long +blue blouse, open at the neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter +than it was sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes have become +pale and watery, and his ruddy face is withered, like an apple that +has clung all winter to the tree. When Ivar lost his land through +mismanagement a dozen years ago, Alexandra took him in, and he has +been a member of her household ever since. He is too old to work +in the fields, but he hitches and unhitches the work-teams and +looks after the health of the stock. Sometimes of a winter evening +Alexandra calls him into the sitting-room to read the Bible aloud +to her, for he still reads very well. He dislikes human habitations, +so Alexandra has fitted him up a room in the barn, where he is very +comfortable, being near the horses and, as he says, further from +temptations. No one has ever found out what his temptations are. +In cold weather he sits by the kitchen fire and makes hammocks +or mends harness until it is time to go to bed. Then he says his +prayers at great length behind the stove, puts on his buffalo-skin +coat and goes out to his room in the barn. + +Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller, +and she has more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous than +she did as a young girl. But she still has the same calmness and +deliberation of manner, the same clear eyes, and she still wears +her hair in two braids wound round her head. It is so curly that +fiery ends escape from the braids and make her head look like one +of the big double sunflowers that fringe her vegetable garden. +Her face is always tanned in summer, for her sunbonnet is oftener +on her arm than on her head. But where her collar falls away from +her neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back from her wrist, the +skin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none but Swedish women +ever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow itself. + +Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged her +men to talk, and she always listened attentively, even when they +seemed to be talking foolishly. + +To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed Irishman who had been with +Alexandra for five years and who was actually her foreman, though +he had no such title, was grumbling about the new silo she had put +up that spring. It happened to be the first silo on the Divide, +and Alexandra's neighbors and her men were skeptical about it. "To +be sure, if the thing don't work, we'll have plenty of feed without +it, indeed," Barney conceded. + +Nelse Jensen, Signa's gloomy suitor, had his word. "Lou, he says +he wouldn't have no silo on his place if you'd give it to him. +He says the feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard of +somebody lost four head of horses, feedin' 'em that stuff." + +Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. "Well, +the only way we can find out is to try. Lou and I have different +notions about feeding stock, and that's a good thing. It's bad if +all the members of a family think alike. They never get anywhere. +Lou can learn by my mistakes and I can learn by his. Isn't that +fair, Barney?" + +The Irishman laughed. He had no love for Lou, who was always uppish +with him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. "I've +no thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. 'T would be +only right, after puttin' so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will +come out an' have a look at it wid me." He pushed back his chair, +took his hat from the nail, and marched out with Emil, who, with +his university ideas, was supposed to have instigated the silo. +The other hands followed them, all except old Ivar. He had been +depressed throughout the meal and had paid no heed to the talk of +the men, even when they mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which he +was sure to have opinions. + +"Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?" Alexandra asked as she rose +from the table. "Come into the sitting-room." + +The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair +he shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him +to speak. He stood looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed, +his hands clasped in front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed to +have grown shorter with years, and they were completely misfitted +to his broad, thick body and heavy shoulders. + +"Well, Ivar, what is it?" Alexandra asked after she had waited +longer than usual. + +Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaint +and grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He +always addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hoping +to set a good example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too +familiar in their manners. + +"Mistress," he began faintly, without raising his eyes, "the folk +have been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been +talk." + +"Talk about what, Ivar?" + +"About sending me away; to the asylum." + +Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. "Nobody has come to me with +such talk," she said decidedly. "Why need you listen? You know +I would never consent to such a thing." + +Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little +eyes. "They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain of +me, if your brothers complain to the authorities. They say that +your brothers are afraid--God forbid!-- that I may do you some +injury when my spells are on me. Mistress, how can any one think +that?--that I could bite the hand that fed me!" The tears trickled +down on the old man's beard. + +Alexandra frowned. "Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should come +bothering me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, +and other people have nothing to do with either you or me. So long +as I am suited with you, there is nothing to be said." + +Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse and +wiped his eyes and beard. "But I should not wish you to keep me +if, as they say, it is against your interests, and if it is hard +for you to get hands because I am here." + +Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his +hand and went on earnestly:-- + +"Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things +into account. You know that my spells come from God, and that +I would not harm any living creature. You believe that every one +should worship God in the way revealed to him. But that is not +the way of this country. The way here is for all to do alike. I +am despised because I do not wear shoes, because I do not cut my +hair, and because I have visions. At home, in the old country, +there were many like me, who had been touched by God, or who had +seen things in the graveyard at night and were different afterward. +We thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But here, if a man +is different in his feet or in his head, they put him in the asylum. +Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out of a creek, +he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could eat only +such food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything else, it +became enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about in +him, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. +He could work as good as any man, and his head was clear, but they +locked him up for being different in his stomach. That is the way; +they have built the asylum for people who are different, and they +will not even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Only +your great prosperity has protected me so far. If you had had +ill-fortune, they would have taken me to Hastings long ago." + +As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she +could often break his fasts and long penances by talking to him +and letting him pour out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy +always cleared his mind, and ridicule was poison to him. + +"There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not they +will be wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; +and then I may take you with me. But at present I need you here. +Only don't come to me again telling me what people say. Let people +go on talking as they like, and we will go on living as we think +best. You have been with me now for twelve years, and I have gone +to you for advice oftener than I have ever gone to any one. That +ought to satisfy you." + +Ivar bowed humbly. "Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with +their talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes +all these years, though you have never questioned me; washing them +every night, even in winter." + +Alexandra laughed. "Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We can +remember when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expect +old Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if +she dared. I'm glad I'm not Lou's mother-in-law." + +Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to a +whisper. "You know what they have over at Lou's house? A great +white tub, like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash +themselves in. When you sent me over with the strawberries, they +were all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. She took me +in and showed me the thing, and she told me it was impossible to +wash yourself clean in it, because, in so much water, you could +not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up and send her in +there, she pretends, and makes a splashing noise. Then, when they +are all asleep, she washes herself in a little wooden tub she keeps +under her bed." + +Alexandra shook with laughter. "Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won't let +her wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit +me, she can do all the old things in the old way, and have as much +beer as she wants. We'll start an asylum for old-time people, +Ivar." + +Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into +his blouse. "This is always the way, mistress. I come to you +sorrowing, and you send me away with a light heart. And will you +be so good as to tell the Irishman that he is not to work the brown +gelding until the sore on its shoulder is healed?" + +"That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare to the cart. I am going +to drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is +to buy my alfalfa hay." + + + +III + + +Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar's case, however. On Sunday her +married brothers came to dinner. She had asked them for that day +because Emil, who hated family parties, would be absent, dancing +at Amedee Chevalier's wedding, up in the French country. The table +was set for company in the dining-room, where highly varnished +wood and colored glass and useless pieces of china were conspicuous +enough to satisfy the standards of the new prosperity. Alexandra +had put herself into the hands of the Hanover furniture dealer, and +he had conscientiously done his best to make her dining-room look +like his display window. She said frankly that she knew nothing +about such things, and she was willing to be governed by the general +conviction that the more useless and utterly unusable objects +were, the greater their virtue as ornament. That seemed reasonable +enough. Since she liked plain things herself, it was all the more +necessary to have jars and punchbowls and candlesticks in the company +rooms for people who did appreciate them. Her guests liked to see +about them these reassuring emblems of prosperity. + +The family party was complete except for Emil, and Oscar's wife +who, in the country phrase, "was not going anywhere just now." +Oscar sat at the foot of the table and his four tow-headed little +boys, aged from twelve to five, were ranged at one side. Neither +Oscar nor Lou has changed much; they have simply, as Alexandra said +of them long ago, grown to be more and more like themselves. Lou +now looks the older of the two; his face is thin and shrewd and +wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar's is thick and dull. For all +his dullness, however, Oscar makes more money than his brother, +which adds to Lou's sharpness and uneasiness and tempts him to +make a show. The trouble with Lou is that he is tricky, and his +neighbors have found out that, as Ivar says, he has not a fox's face +for nothing. Politics being the natural field for such talents, +he neglects his farm to attend conventions and to run for county +offices. + +Lou's wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to look curiously like +her husband. Her face has become longer, sharper, more aggressive. +She wears her yellow hair in a high pompadour, and is bedecked with +rings and chains and "beauty pins." Her tight, high-heeled shoes +give her an awkward walk, and she is always more or less preoccupied +with her clothes. As she sat at the table, she kept telling her +youngest daughter to "be careful now, and not drop anything on +mother." + +The conversation at the table was all in English. Oscar's wife, +from the malaria district of Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a +foreigner, and his boys do not understand a word of Swedish. Annie +and Lou sometimes speak Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as +much afraid of being "caught" at it as ever her mother was of being +caught barefoot. Oscar still has a thick accent, but Lou speaks +like anybody from Iowa. + +"When I was in Hastings to attend the convention," he was saying, +"I saw the superintendent of the asylum, and I was telling him about +Ivar's symptoms. He says Ivar's case is one of the most dangerous +kind, and it's a wonder he hasn't done something violent before +this." + +Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. "Oh, nonsense, Lou! The doctors +would have us all crazy if they could. Ivar's queer, certainly, +but he has more sense than half the hands I hire." + +Lou flew at his fried chicken. "Oh, I guess the doctor knows his +business, Alexandra. He was very much surprised when I told him +how you'd put up with Ivar. He says he's likely to set fire to the +barn any night, or to take after you and the girls with an axe." + +Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, giggled and fled to +the kitchen. Alexandra's eyes twinkled. "That was too much for +Signa, Lou. We all know that Ivar's perfectly harmless. The girls +would as soon expect me to chase them with an axe." + +Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. "All the same, the neighbors +will be having a say about it before long. He may burn anybody's +barn. It's only necessary for one property-owner in the township +to make complaint, and he'll be taken up by force. You'd better +send him yourself and not have any hard feelings." + +Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to gravy. "Well, Lou, +if any of the neighbors try that, I'll have myself appointed Ivar's +guardian and take the case to court, that's all. I am perfectly +satisfied with him." + +"Pass the preserves, Lou," said Annie in a warning tone. She had +reasons for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. +"But don't you sort of hate to have people see him around here, +Alexandra?" she went on with persuasive smoothness. "He IS a +disgraceful object, and you're fixed up so nice now. It sort of +makes people distant with you, when they never know when they'll +hear him scratching about. My girls are afraid as death of him, +aren't you, Milly, dear?" + +Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompadoured, with a creamy +complexion, square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She +looked like her grandmother Bergson, and had her comfortable and +comfort-loving nature. She grinned at her aunt, with whom she was +a great deal more at ease than she was with her mother. Alexandra +winked a reply. + +"Milly needn't be afraid of Ivar. She's an especial favorite of +his. In my opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of +dressing and thinking as we have. But I'll see that he doesn't +bother other people. I'll keep him at home, so don't trouble any +more about him, Lou. I've been wanting to ask you about your new +bathtub. How does it work?" + +Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. "Oh, +it works something grand! I can't keep him out of it. He washes +himself all over three times a week now, and uses all the hot water. +I think it's weakening to stay in as long as he does. You ought +to have one, Alexandra." + +"I'm thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar, +if it will ease people's minds. But before I get a bathtub, I'm +going to get a piano for Milly." + +Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. "What +does Milly want of a pianny? What's the matter with her organ? +She can make some use of that, and play in church." + +Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say +anything about this plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous +of what his sister did for Lou's children. Alexandra did not get +on with Oscar's wife at all. "Milly can play in church just the +same, and she'll still play on the organ. But practising on it +so much spoils her touch. Her teacher says so," Annie brought out +with spirit. + +Oscar rolled his eyes. "Well, Milly must have got on pretty good +if she's got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that +ain't," he said bluntly. + +Annie threw up her chin. "She has got on good, and she's going to +play for her commencement when she graduates in town next year." + +"Yes," said Alexandra firmly, "I think Milly deserves a piano. +All the girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but +Milly is the only one of them who can ever play anything when you +ask her. I'll tell you when I first thought I would like to give +you a piano, Milly, and that was when you learned that book of old +Swedish songs that your grandfather used to sing. He had a sweet +tenor voice, and when he was a young man he loved to sing. I can +remember hearing him singing with the sailors down in the shipyard, +when I was no bigger than Stella here," pointing to Annie's younger +daughter. + +Milly and Stella both looked through the door into the sitting-room, +where a crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra +had had it made from a little photograph, taken for his friends +just before he left Sweden; a slender man of thirty-five, with +soft hair curling about his high forehead, a drooping mustache, +and wondering, sad eyes that looked forward into the distance, as +if they already beheld the New World. + +After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the orchard to pick cherries--they +had neither of them had the patience to grow an orchard of their +own--and Annie went down to gossip with Alexandra's kitchen girls +while they washed the dishes. She could always find out more about +Alexandra's domestic economy from the prattling maids than from +Alexandra herself, and what she discovered she used to her own +advantage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers' daughters no longer +went out into service, so Alexandra got her girls from Sweden, by +paying their fare over. They stayed with her until they married, +and were replaced by sisters or cousins from the old country. + +Alexandra took her three nieces into the flower garden. She was +fond of the little girls, especially of Milly, who came to spend +a week with her aunt now and then, and read aloud to her from the +old books about the house, or listened to stories about the early +days on the Divide. While they were walking among the flower beds, +a buggy drove up the hill and stopped in front of the gate. A man +got out and stood talking to the driver. The little girls were +delighted at the advent of a stranger, some one from very far away, +they knew by his clothes, his gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut +of his dark beard. The girls fell behind their aunt and peeped out +at him from among the castor beans. The stranger came up to the +gate and stood holding his hat in his hand, smiling, while Alexandra +advanced slowly to meet him. As she approached he spoke in a low, +pleasant voice. + +"Don't you know me, Alexandra? I would have known you, anywhere." + +Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. Suddenly she took a quick +step forward. "Can it be!" she exclaimed with feeling; "can it be +that it is Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!" She threw out both +her hands and caught his across the gate. "Sadie, Milly, run tell +your father and Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl Linstrum is +here. Be quick! Why, Carl, how did it happen? I can't believe +this!" Alexandra shook the tears from her eyes and laughed. + +The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped his suitcase inside +the fence, and opened the gate. "Then you are glad to see me, and +you can put me up overnight? I couldn't go through this country +without stopping off to have a look at you. How little you have +changed! Do you know, I was sure it would be like that. You +simply couldn't be different. How fine you are!" He stepped back +and looked at her admiringly. + +Alexandra blushed and laughed again. "But you yourself, Carl--with +that beard--how could I have known you? You went away a little +boy." She reached for his suitcase and when he intercepted her +she threw up her hands. "You see, I give myself away. I have only +women come to visit me, and I do not know how to behave. Where is +your trunk?" + +"It's in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. I am on my way to +the coast." + +They started up the path. "A few days? After all these years!" +Alexandra shook her finger at him. "See this, you have walked +into a trap. You do not get away so easy." She put her hand +affectionately on his shoulder. "You owe me a visit for the sake +of old times. Why must you go to the coast at all?" + +"Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From Seattle I go on to +Alaska." + +"Alaska?" She looked at him in astonishment. "Are you going to +paint the Indians?" + +"Paint?" the young man frowned. "Oh! I'm not a painter, Alexandra. +I'm an engraver. I have nothing to do with painting." + +"But on my parlor wall I have the paintings--" + +He interrupted nervously. "Oh, water-color sketches--done for +amusement. I sent them to remind you of me, not because they were +good. What a wonderful place you have made of this, Alexandra." +He turned and looked back at the wide, map-like prospect of field +and hedge and pasture. "I would never have believed it could be +done. I'm disappointed in my own eye, in my imagination." + +At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the hill from the orchard. +They did not quicken their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they +did not openly look in his direction. They advanced distrustfully, +and as if they wished the distance were longer. + +Alexandra beckoned to them. "They think I am trying to fool them. +Come, boys, it's Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!" + +Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance and thrust out his +hand. "Glad to see you." + +Oscar followed with "How d' do." Carl could not tell whether their +offishness came from unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and +Alexandra led the way to the porch. + +"Carl," Alexandra explained, "is on his way to Seattle. He is +going to Alaska." + +Oscar studied the visitor's yellow shoes. "Got business there?" +he asked. + +Carl laughed. "Yes, very pressing business. I'm going there to +get rich. Engraving's a very interesting profession, but a man +never makes any money at it. So I'm going to try the goldfields." + +Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, and Lou looked up +with some interest. "Ever done anything in that line before?" + +"No, but I'm going to join a friend of mine who went out from New +York and has done well. He has offered to break me in." + +"Turrible cold winters, there, I hear," remarked Oscar. "I thought +people went up there in the spring." + +"They do. But my friend is going to spend the winter in Seattle and +I am to stay with him there and learn something about prospecting +before we start north next year." + +Lou looked skeptical. "Let's see, how long have you been away from +here?" + +"Sixteen years. You ought to remember that, Lou, for you were +married just after we went away." + +"Going to stay with us some time?" Oscar asked. + +"A few days, if Alexandra can keep me." + +"I expect you'll be wanting to see your old place," Lou observed +more cordially. "You won't hardly know it. But there's a few +chunks of your old sod house left. Alexandra wouldn't never let +Frank Shabata plough over it." + +Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was announced, had been +touching up her hair and settling her lace and wishing she had worn +another dress, now emerged with her three daughters and introduced +them. She was greatly impressed by Carl's urban appearance, and +in her excitement talked very loud and threw her head about. "And +you ain't married yet? At your age, now! Think of that! You'll +have to wait for Milly. Yes, we've got a boy, too. The youngest. +He's at home with his grandma. You must come over to see mother +and hear Milly play. She's the musician of the family. She does +pyrography, too. That's burnt wood, you know. You wouldn't believe +what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes to school in town, +and she is the youngest in her class by two years." + +Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took her hand again. He liked +her creamy skin and happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her +mother's way of talking distressed her. "I'm sure she's a clever +little girl," he murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. "Let me +see-- Ah, it's your mother that she looks like, Alexandra. Mrs. +Bergson must have looked just like this when she was a little +girl. Does Milly run about over the country as you and Alexandra +used to, Annie?" + +Milly's mother protested. "Oh, my, no! Things has changed since +we was girls. Milly has it very different. We are going to rent +the place and move into town as soon as the girls are old enough +to go out into company. A good many are doing that here now. Lou +is going into business." + +Lou grinned. "That's what she says. You better go get your things +on. Ivar's hitching up," he added, turning to Annie. + +Young farmers seldom address their wives by name. It is always +"you," or "she." + +Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat down on the step and +began to whittle. "Well, what do folks in New York think of William +Jennings Bryan?" Lou began to bluster, as he always did when he +talked politics. "We gave Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all +right, and we're fixing another to hand them. Silver wasn't the +only issue," he nodded mysteriously. "There's a good many things +got to be changed. The West is going to make itself heard." + +Carl laughed. "But, surely, it did do that, if nothing else." + +Lou's thin face reddened up to the roots of his bristly hair. "Oh, +we've only begun. We're waking up to a sense of our responsibilities, +out here, and we ain't afraid, neither. You fellows back there +must be a tame lot. If you had any nerve you'd get together and +march down to Wall Street and blow it up. Dynamite it, I mean," +with a threatening nod. + +He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely knew how to answer +him. "That would be a waste of powder. The same business would +go on in another street. The street doesn't matter. But what have +you fellows out here got to kick about? You have the only safe +place there is. Morgan himself couldn't touch you. One only has +to drive through this country to see that you're all as rich as +barons." + +"We have a good deal more to say than we had when we were poor," +said Lou threateningly. "We're getting on to a whole lot of things." + +As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the gate, Annie came out in +a hat that looked like the model of a battleship. Carl rose and +took her down to the carriage, while Lou lingered for a word with +his sister. + +"What do you suppose he's come for?" he asked, jerking his head +toward the gate. + +"Why, to pay us a visit. I've been begging him to for years." + +Oscar looked at Alexandra. "He didn't let you know he was coming?" + +"No. Why should he? I told him to come at any time." + +Lou shrugged his shoulders. "He doesn't seem to have done much +for himself. Wandering around this way!" + +Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of a cavern. "He never +was much account." + +Alexandra left them and hurried down to the gate where Annie was +rattling on to Carl about her new dining-room furniture. "You +must bring Mr. Linstrum over real soon, only be sure to telephone +me first," she called back, as Carl helped her into the carriage. +Old Ivar, his white head bare, stood holding the horses. Lou came +down the path and climbed into the front seat, took up the reins, +and drove off without saying anything further to any one. Oscar +picked up his youngest boy and trudged off down the road, the other +three trotting after him. Carl, holding the gate open for Alexandra, +began to laugh. "Up and coming on the Divide, eh, Alexandra?" he +cried gayly. + + + +IV + + +Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less than one might have +expected. He had not become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There +was still something homely and wayward and definitely personal +about him. Even his clothes, his Norfolk coat and his very high +collars, were a little unconventional. He seemed to shrink into +himself as he used to do; to hold himself away from things, as if +he were afraid of being hurt. In short, he was more self-con-scious +than a man of thirty-five is expected to be. He looked older than +his years and not very strong. His black hair, which still hung +in a triangle over his pale forehead, was thin at the crown, and +there were fine, relentless lines about his eyes. His back, with +its high, sharp shoulders, looked like the back of an over-worked +German professor off on his holiday. His face was intelligent, +sensitive, unhappy. + +That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the +clump of castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The +gravel paths glittered in the moonlight, and below them the fields +lay white and still. + +"Do you know, Alexandra," he was saying, "I've been thinking how +strangely things work out. I've been away engraving other men's +pictures, and you've stayed at home and made your own." He pointed +with his cigar toward the sleeping landscape. "How in the world +have you done it? How have your neighbors done it?" + +"We hadn't any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. +It had its little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody +knew how to work it right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. +It woke up out of its sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, +so rich, that we suddenly found we were rich, just from sitting +still. As for me, you remember when I began to buy land. For +years after that I was always squeezing and borrowing until I was +ashamed to show my face in the banks. And then, all at once, men +began to come to me offering to lend me money--and I didn't need +it! Then I went ahead and built this house. I really built it +for Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so different from +the rest of us!" + +"How different?" + +"Oh, you'll see! I'm sure it was to have sons like Emil, and to +give them a chance, that father left the old country. It's curious, +too; on the outside Emil is just like an American boy,--he graduated +from the State University in June, you know,--but underneath he is +more Swedish than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that +he frightens me; he is so violent in his feelings like that." + +"Is he going to farm here with you?" + +"He shall do whatever he wants to," Alexandra declared warmly. "He +is going to have a chance, a whole chance; that's what I've worked +for. Sometimes he talks about studying law, and sometimes, just +lately, he's been talking about going out into the sand hills and +taking up more land. He has his sad times, like father. But I +hope he won't do that. We have land enough, at last!" Alexandra +laughed. + +"How about Lou and Oscar? They've done well, haven't they?" + +"Yes, very well; but they are different, and now that they have +farms of their own I do not see so much of them. We divided the +land equally when Lou married. They have their own way of doing +things, and they do not altogether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps +they think me too independent. But I have had to think for myself +a good many years and am not likely to change. On the whole, +though, we take as much comfort in each other as most brothers and +sisters do. And I am very fond of Lou's oldest daughter." + +"I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, and they probably +feel the same about me. I even, if you can keep a secret,"--Carl +leaned forward and touched her arm, smiling,--"I even think I liked +the old country better. This is all very splendid in its way, +but there was something about this country when it was a wild old +beast that has haunted me all these years. Now, when I come back +to all this milk and honey, I feel like the old German song, 'Wo +bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest Land?'-- Do you ever feel like +that, I wonder?" + +"Yes, sometimes, when I think about father and mother and those +who are gone; so many of our old neighbors." Alexandra paused and +looked up thoughtfully at the stars. "We can remember the graveyard +when it was wild prairie, Carl, and now--" + +"And now the old story has begun to write itself over there," said +Carl softly. "Isn't it queer: there are only two or three human +stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they +had never happened before; like the larks in this country, that +have been singing the same five notes over for thousands of years." + +"Oh, yes! The young people, they live so hard. And yet I sometimes +envy them. There is my little neighbor, now; the people who bought +your old place. I wouldn't have sold it to any one else, but I +was always fond of that girl. You must remember her, little Marie +Tovesky, from Omaha, who used to visit here? When she was eighteen +she ran away from the convent school and got married, crazy child! +She came out here a bride, with her father and husband. He had +nothing, and the old man was willing to buy them a place and set +them up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad to have her so +near me. I've never been sorry, either. I even try to get along +with Frank on her account." + +"Is Frank her husband?" + +"Yes. He's one of these wild fellows. Most Bohemians are +good-natured, but Frank thinks we don't appreciate him here, I +guess. He's jealous about everything, his farm and his horses and +his pretty wife. Everybody likes her, just the same as when she +was little. Sometimes I go up to the Catholic church with Emil, +and it's funny to see Marie standing there laughing and shaking +hands with people, looking so excited and gay, with Frank sulking +behind her as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank's not a bad +neighbor, but to get on with him you've got to make a fuss over +him and act as if you thought he was a very important person all +the time, and different from other people. I find it hard to keep +that up from one year's end to another." + +"I shouldn't think you'd be very successful at that kind of thing, +Alexandra." Carl seemed to find the idea amusing. + +"Well," said Alexandra firmly, "I do the best I can, on Marie's +account. She has it hard enough, anyway. She's too young and +pretty for this sort of life. We're all ever so much older and +slower. But she's the kind that won't be downed easily. She'll +work all day and go to a Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and +drive the hay wagon for a cross man next morning. I could stay by +a job, but I never had the go in me that she has, when I was going +my best. I'll have to take you over to see her to-morrow." + +Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly among the castor beans and +sighed. "Yes, I suppose I must see the old place. I'm cowardly +about things that remind me of myself. It took courage to come +at all, Alexandra. I wouldn't have, if I hadn't wanted to see you +very, very much." + +Alexandra looked at him with her calm, deliberate eyes. "Why do +you dread things like that, Carl?" she asked earnestly. "Why are +you dissatisfied with yourself?" + +Her visitor winced. "How direct you are, Alexandra! Just like +you used to be. Do I give myself away so quickly? Well, you see, +for one thing, there's nothing to look forward to in my profession. +Wood-engraving is the only thing I care about, and that had gone out +before I began. Everything's cheap metal work nowadays, touching +up miserable photographs, forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good +ones. I'm absolutely sick of it all." Carl frowned. "Alexandra, +all the way out from New York I've been planning how I could +deceive you and make you think me a very enviable fellow, and here +I am telling you the truth the first night. I waste a lot of time +pretending to people, and the joke of it is, I don't think I ever +deceive any one. There are too many of my kind; people know us on +sight." + +Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair back from her brow with a +puzzled, thoughtful gesture. "You see," he went on calmly, "measured +by your standards here, I'm a failure. I couldn't buy even one of +your cornfields. I've enjoyed a great many things, but I've got +nothing to show for it all." + +"But you show for it yourself, Carl. I'd rather have had your +freedom than my land." + +Carl shook his head mournfully. "Freedom so often means that one +isn't needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a +background of your own, you would be missed. But off there in the +cities there are thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all +alike; we have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing. When one +of us dies, they scarcely know where to bury him. Our landlady and +the delicatessen man are our mourners, and we leave nothing behind +us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an easel, or a typewriter, or +whatever tool we got our living by. All we have ever managed to +do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent that one has to pay for +a few square feet of space near the heart of things. We have no +house, no place, no people of our own. We live in the streets, +in the parks, in the theatres. We sit in restaurants and concert +halls and look about at the hundreds of our own kind and shudder." + +Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon +made on the surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that +she understood what he meant. At last she said slowly, "And yet I +would rather have Emil grow up like that than like his two brothers. +We pay a high rent, too, though we pay differently. We grow hard +and heavy here. We don't move lightly and easily as you do, and +our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider than my cornfields, +if there were not something beside this, I wouldn't feel that it +was much worth while to work. No, I would rather have Emil like +you than like them. I felt that as soon as you came." + +"I wonder why you feel like that?" Carl mused. + +"I don't know. Perhaps I am like Carrie Jensen, the sister of one +of my hired men. She had never been out of the cornfields, and a +few years ago she got despondent and said life was just the same +thing over and over, and she didn't see the use of it. After she +had tried to kill herself once or twice, her folks got worried and +sent her over to Iowa to visit some relations. Ever since she's +come back she's been perfectly cheerful, and she says she's contented +to live and work in a world that's so big and interesting. She +said that anything as big as the bridges over the Platte and the +Missouri reconciled her. And it's what goes on in the world that +reconciles me." + + + +V + + +Alexandra did not find time to go to her neighbor's the next day, nor +the next. It was a busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing +going on, and even Emil was in the field with a team and cultivator. +Carl went about over the farms with Alexandra in the morning, and +in the afternoon and evening they found a great deal to talk about. +Emil, for all his track practice, did not stand up under farmwork +very well, and by night he was too tired to talk or even to practise +on his cornet. + +On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it was light, and stole +downstairs and out of the kitchen door just as old Ivar was making +his morning ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded to him and hurried +up the draw, past the garden, and into the pasture where the milking +cows used to be kept. + +The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire that +was burning under the edge of the world. The color was reflected +in the globules of dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass. +Carl walked rapidly until he came to the crest of the second hill, +where the Bergson pasture joined the one that had belonged to his +father. There he sat down and waited for the sun to rise. It was +just there that he and Alexandra used to do their milking together, he +on his side of the fence, she on hers. He could remember exactly +how she looked when she came over the close-cropped grass, her +skirts pinned up, her head bare, a bright tin pail in either hand, +and the milky light of the early morning all about her. Even as +a boy he used to feel, when he saw her coming with her free step, +her upright head and calm shoulders, that she looked as if she had +walked straight out of the morning itself. Since then, when he had +happened to see the sun come up in the country or on the water, he +had often remembered the young Swedish girl and her milking pails. + +Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in the +grass about him all the small creatures of day began to tune their +tiny instruments. Birds and insects without number began to chirp, +to twitter, to snap and whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill +noises. The pasture was flooded with light; every clump of ironweed +and snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden light +seemed to be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racing +in. + +He crossed the fence into the pasture that was now the Shabatas' and +continued his walk toward the pond. He had not gone far, however, +when he discovered that he was not the only person abroad. In the +draw below, his gun in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, +with a young woman beside him. They were moving softly, keeping +close together, and Carl knew that they expected to find ducks on +the pond. At the moment when they came in sight of the bright spot +of water, he heard a whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into the +air. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and five of the birds +fell to the ground. Emil and his companion laughed delightedly, +and Emil ran to pick them up. When he came back, dangling the +ducks by their feet, Marie held her apron and he dropped them into +it. As she stood looking down at them, her face changed. She +took up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of feathers with the blood +dripping slowly from its mouth, and looked at the live color that +still burned on its plumage. + +As she let it fall, she cried in distress, "Oh, Emil, why did you?" + +"I like that!" the boy exclaimed indignantly. "Why, Marie, you +asked me to come yourself." + +":Yes, yes, I know," she said tearfully, "but I didn't think. I +hate to see them when they are first shot. They were having such +a good time, and we've spoiled it all for them." + +Emil gave a rather sore laugh. "I should say we had! I'm not going +hunting with you any more. You're as bad as Ivar. Here, let me +take them." He snatched the ducks out of her apron. + +"Don't be cross, Emil. Only--Ivar's right about wild things. They're +too happy to kill. You can tell just how they felt when they flew +up. They were scared, but they didn't really think anything could +hurt them. No, we won't do that any more." + +"All right," Emil assented. "I'm sorry I made you feel bad." As +he looked down into her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp +young bitterness in his own. + +Carl watched them as they moved slowly down the draw. They had +not seen him at all. He had not overheard much of their dialogue, +but he felt the import of it. It made him, somehow, unreasonably +mournful to find two young things abroad in the pasture in the +early morning. He decided that he needed his breakfast. + + + +VI + + +At dinner that day Alexandra said she thought they must really +manage to go over to the Shabatas' that afternoon. "It's not often +I let three days go by without seeing Marie. She will think I have +forsaken her, now that my old friend has come back." + +After the men had gone back to work, Alexandra put on a white dress +and her sun-hat, and she and Carl set forth across the fields. +"You see we have kept up the old path, Carl. It has been so nice +for me to feel that there was a friend at the other end of it +again." + +Carl smiled a little ruefully. "All the same, I hope it hasn't +been QUITE the same." + +Alexandra looked at him with surprise. "Why, no, of course not. +Not the same. She could not very well take your place, if that's +what you mean. I'm friendly with all my neighbors, I hope. But +Marie is really a companion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. +You wouldn't want me to be more lonely than I have been, would +you?" + +Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular lock of hair with the +edge of his hat. "Of course I don't. I ought to be thankful that +this path hasn't been worn by--well, by friends with more pressing +errands than your little Bohemian is likely to have." He paused +to give Alexandra his hand as she stepped over the stile. "Are +you the least bit disappointed in our coming together again?" he +asked abruptly. "Is it the way you hoped it would be?" + +Alexandra smiled at this. "Only better. When I've thought about +your coming, I've sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have +lived where things move so fast, and everything is slow here; the +people slowest of all. Our lives are like the years, all made up +of weather and crops and cows. How you hated cows!" She shook her +head and laughed to herself. + +"I didn't when we milked together. I walked up to the pasture +corners this morning. I wonder whether I shall ever be able to +tell you all that I was thinking about up there. It's a strange +thing, Alexandra; I find it easy to be frank with you about everything +under the sun except--yourself!" + +"You are afraid of hurting my feelings, perhaps." Alexandra looked +at him thoughtfully. + +"No, I'm afraid of giving you a shock. You've seen yourself for +so long in the dull minds of the people about you, that if I were +to tell you how you seem to me, it would startle you. But you must +see that you astonish me. You must feel when people admire you." + +Alexandra blushed and laughed with some confusion. "I felt that +you were pleased with me, if you mean that." + +"And you've felt when other people were pleased with you?" he +insisted. + +"Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the banks and the county +offices, seem glad to see me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant +to do business with people who are clean and healthy-looking," she +admitted blandly. + +Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the Shabatas' gate for her. +"Oh, do you?" he asked dryly. + +There was no sign of life about the Shabatas' house except a big +yellow cat, sunning itself on the kitchen doorstep. + +Alexandra took the path that led to the orchard. "She often sits +there and sews. I didn't telephone her we were coming, because I +didn't want her to go to work and bake cake and freeze ice-cream. +She'll always make a party if you give her the least excuse. Do +you recognize the apple trees, Carl?" + +Linstrum looked about him. "I wish I had a dollar for every bucket +of water I've carried for those trees. Poor father, he was an +easy man, but he was perfectly merciless when it came to watering +the orchard." + +"That's one thing I like about Germans; they make an orchard grow +if they can't make anything else. I'm so glad these trees belong +to some one who takes comfort in them. When I rented this place, +the tenants never kept the orchard up, and Emil and I used to come +over and take care of it ourselves. It needs mowing now. There +she is, down in the corner. Ma- ria-a-a!" she called. + +A recumbent figure started up from the grass and came running toward +them through the flickering screen of light and shade. + +"Look at her! Isn't she like a little brown rabbit?" Alexandra +laughed. + +Maria ran up panting and threw her arms about Alexandra. "Oh, I +had begun to think you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you +were so busy. Yes, Emil told me about Mr. Linstrum being here. +Won't you come up to the house?" + +"Why not sit down there in your corner? Carl wants to see the +orchard. He kept all these trees alive for years, watering them +with his own back." + +Marie turned to Carl. "Then I'm thankful to you, Mr. Linstrum. We'd +never have bought the place if it hadn't been for this orchard, and +then I wouldn't have had Alexandra, either." She gave Alexandra's +arm a little squeeze as she walked beside her. "How nice your dress +smells, Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in your chest, like I +told you." + +She led them to the northwest corner of the orchard, sheltered on +one side by a thick mulberry hedge and bordered on the other by a +wheatfield, just beginning to yellow. In this corner the ground +dipped a little, and the blue-grass, which the weeds had driven out +in the upper part of the orchard, grew thick and luxuriant. Wild +roses were flaming in the tufts of bunchgrass along the fence. +Under a white mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. Beside +it lay a book and a workbasket. + +"You must have the seat, Alexandra. The grass would stain your +dress," the hostess insisted. She dropped down on the ground +at Alexandra's side and tucked her feet under her. Carl sat at +a little distance from the two women, his back to the wheatfield, +and watched them. Alexandra took off her shade-hat and threw it on +the ground. Marie picked it up and played with the white ribbons, +twisting them about her brown fingers as she talked. They made a +pretty picture in the strong sunlight, the leafy pattern surrounding +them like a net; the Swedish woman so white and gold, kindly and +amused, but armored in calm, and the alert brown one, her full lips +parted, points of yellow light dancing in her eyes as she laughed +and chattered. Carl had never forgotten little Marie Tovesky's +eyes, and he was glad to have an opportunity to study them. The +brown iris, he found, was curiously slashed with yellow, the color +of sunflower honey, or of old amber. In each eye one of these +streaks must have been larger than the others, for the effect was +that of two dancing points of light, two little yellow bubbles, +such as rise in a glass of champagne. Sometimes they seemed like +the sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily excited, to kindle +with a fierce little flame if one but breathed upon her. "What +a waste," Carl reflected. "She ought to be doing all that for a +sweetheart. How awkwardly things come about!" + +It was not very long before Marie sprang up out of the grass again. +"Wait a moment. I want to show you something." She ran away and +disappeared behind the low-growing apple trees. + +"What a charming creature," Carl murmured. "I don't wonder that +her husband is jealous. But can't she walk? does she always run?" + +Alexandra nodded. "Always. I don't see many people, but I don't +believe there are many like her, anywhere." + +Marie came back with a branch she had broken from an apricot tree, +laden with pale yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it beside +Carl. "Did you plant those, too? They are such beautiful little +trees." + +Carl fingered the blue-green leaves, porous like blotting-paper and +shaped like birch leaves, hung on waxen red stems. "Yes, I think +I did. Are these the circus trees, Alexandra?" + +"Shall I tell her about them?" Alexandra asked. "Sit down like +a good girl, Marie, and don't ruin my poor hat, and I'll tell you +a story. A long time ago, when Carl and I were, say, sixteen and +twelve, a circus came to Hanover and we went to town in our wagon, +with Lou and Oscar, to see the parade. We hadn't money enough to +go to the circus. We followed the parade out to the circus grounds +and hung around until the show began and the crowd went inside the +tent. Then Lou was afraid we looked foolish standing outside in +the pasture, so we went back to Hanover feeling very sad. There +was a man in the streets selling apricots, and we had never seen +any before. He had driven down from somewhere up in the French +country, and he was selling them twenty-five cents a peck. We had +a little money our fathers had given us for candy, and I bought +two pecks and Carl bought one. They cheered us a good deal, and +we saved all the seeds and planted them. Up to the time Carl went +away, they hadn't borne at all." + +"And now he's come back to eat them," cried Marie, nodding at Carl. +"That IS a good story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Linstrum. +I used to see you in Hanover sometimes, when Uncle Joe took me to +town. I remember you because you were always buying pencils and +tubes of paint at the drug store. Once, when my uncle left me at +the store, you drew a lot of little birds and flowers for me on a +piece of wrapping-paper. I kept them for a long while. I thought +you were very romantic because you could draw and had such black +eyes." + +Carl smiled. "Yes, I remember that time. Your uncle bought you +some kind of a mechanical toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman +and smoking a hookah, wasn't it? And she turned her head backwards +and forwards." + +"Oh, yes! Wasn't she splendid! I knew well enough I ought not +to tell Uncle Joe I wanted it, for he had just come back from the +saloon and was feeling good. You remember how he laughed? She +tickled him, too. But when we got home, my aunt scolded him for +buying toys when she needed so many things. We wound our lady up +every night, and when she began to move her head my aunt used to +laugh as hard as any of us. It was a music-box, you know, and the +Turkish lady played a tune while she smoked. That was how she made +you feel so jolly. As I remember her, she was lovely, and had a +gold crescent on her turban." + +Half an hour later, as they were leaving the house, Carl and Alexandra +were met in the path by a strapping fellow in overalls and a blue +shirt. He was breathing hard, as if he had been running, and was +muttering to himself. + +Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the arm, gave him a little +push toward her guests. "Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum." + +Frank took off his broad straw hat and nodded to Alexandra. When +he spoke to Carl, he showed a fine set of white teeth. He was burned +a dull red down to his neckband, and there was a heavy three-days' +stubble on his face. Even in his agitation he was handsome, but +he looked a rash and violent man. + +Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once to his wife and +began, in an outraged tone, "I have to leave my team to drive the +old woman Hiller's hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat old woman +to de court if she ain't careful, I tell you!" + +His wife spoke soothingly. "But, Frank, she has only her lame boy +to help her. She does the best she can." + +Alexandra looked at the excited man and offered a suggestion. "Why +don't you go over there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? +You'd save time for yourself in the end." + +Frank's neck stiffened. "Not-a-much, I won't. I keep my hogs +home. Other peoples can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend +shoes, he can mend fence." + +"Maybe," said Alexandra placidly; "but I've found it sometimes pays +to mend other people's fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to see me +soon." + +Alexandra walked firmly down the path and Carl followed her. + +Frank went into the house and threw himself on the sofa, his face +to the wall, his clenched fist on his hip. Marie, having seen her +guests off, came in and put her hand coaxingly on his shoulder. + +"Poor Frank! You've run until you've made your head ache, now +haven't you? Let me make you some coffee." + +"What else am I to do?" he cried hotly in Bohemian. "Am I to let +any old woman's hogs root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself +to death for?" + +"Don't worry about it, Frank. I'll speak to Mrs. Hiller again. +But, really, she almost cried last time they got out, she was so +sorry." + +Frank bounced over on his other side. "That's it; you always side +with them against me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free +to borrow the mower and break it, or turn their hogs in on me. +They know you won't care!" + +Marie hurried away to make his coffee. When she came back, he was +fast asleep. She sat down and looked at him for a long while, very +thoughtfully. When the kitchen clock struck six she went out to +get supper, closing the door gently behind her. She was always +sorry for Frank when he worked himself into one of these rages, and +she was sorry to have him rough and quarrelsome with his neighbors. +She was perfectly aware that the neighbors had a good deal to put +up with, and that they bore with Frank for her sake. + + + +VII + + +Marie's father, Albert Tovesky, was one of the more intelligent +Bohemians who came West in the early seventies. He settled in Omaha +and became a leader and adviser among his people there. Marie was +his youngest child, by a second wife, and was the apple of his eye. +She was barely sixteen, and was in the graduating class of the +Omaha High School, when Frank Shabata arrived from the old country +and set all the Bohemian girls in a flutter. He was easily the +buck of the beer-gardens, and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with +his silk hat and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, wearing gloves +and carrying a little wisp of a yellow cane. He was tall and fair, +with splendid teeth and close-cropped yellow curls, and he wore a +slightly disdainful expression, proper for a young man with high +connections, whose mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. There +was often an interesting discontent in his blue eyes, and every +Bohemian girl he met imagined herself the cause of that unsatisfied +expression. He had a way of drawing out his cambric handkerchief +slowly, by one corner, from his breast-pocket, that was melancholy +and romantic in the extreme. He took a little flight with each +of the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it was when he was with +little Marie Tovesky that he drew his handkerchief out most slowly, +and, after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match most +despairingly. Any one could see, with half an eye, that his proud +heart was bleeding for somebody. + +One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie's graduation, she met +Frank at a Bohemian picnic down the river and went rowing with him +all the afternoon. When she got home that evening she went straight +to her father's room and told him that she was engaged to Shabata. +Old Tovesky was having a comfortable pipe before he went to bed. +When he heard his daughter's announcement, he first prudently +corked his beer bottle and then leaped to his feet and had a turn +of temper. He characterized Frank Shabata by a Bohemian expression +which is the equivalent of stuffed shirt. + +"Why don't he go to work like the rest of us did? His farm in the +Elbe valley, indeed! Ain't he got plenty brothers and sisters? +It's his mother's farm, and why don't he stay at home and help her? +Haven't I seen his mother out in the morning at five o'clock with +her ladle and her big bucket on wheels, putting liquid manure on +the cabbages? Don't I know the look of old Eva Shabata's hands? +Like an old horse's hoofs they are--and this fellow wearing gloves +and rings! Engaged, indeed! You aren't fit to be out of school, +and that's what's the matter with you. I will send you off to the +Sisters of the Sacred Heart in St. Louis, and they will teach you +some sense, ~I~ guess!" + +Accordingly, the very next week, Albert Tovesky took his daughter, +pale and tearful, down the river to the convent. But the way to +make Frank want anything was to tell him he couldn't have it. He +managed to have an interview with Marie before she went away, +and whereas he had been only half in love with her before, he now +persuaded himself that he would not stop at anything. Marie took +with her to the convent, under the canvas lining of her trunk, the +results of a laborious and satisfying morning on Frank's part; no +less than a dozen photographs of himself, taken in a dozen different +love-lorn attitudes. There was a little round photograph for her +watch-case, photographs for her wall and dresser, and even long +narrow ones to be used as bookmarks. More than once the handsome +gentleman was torn to pieces before the French class by an indignant +nun. + +Marie pined in the convent for a year, until her eighteenth birthday +was passed. Then she met Frank Shabata in the Union Station in +St. Louis and ran away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his daughter +because there was nothing else to do, and bought her a farm in +the country that she had loved so well as a child. Since then her +story had been a part of the history of the Divide. She and Frank +had been living there for five years when Carl Linstrum came back +to pay his long deferred visit to Alexandra. Frank had, on the +whole, done better than one might have expected. He had flung +himself at the soil with savage energy. Once a year he went to +Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He stayed away for a week or +two, and then came home and worked like a demon. He did work; if +he felt sorry for himself, that was his own affair. + + + +VIII + + +On the evening of the day of Alexandra's call at the Shabatas', +a heavy rain set in. Frank sat up until a late hour reading the +Sunday newspapers. One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, and +Frank took it as a personal affront. In printing the story of the +young man's marital troubles, the knowing editor gave a sufficiently +colored account of his career, stating the amount of his income +and the manner in which he was supposed to spend it. Frank read +English slowly, and the more he read about this divorce case, the +angrier he grew. At last he threw down the page with a snort. He +turned to his farm-hand who was reading the other half of the paper. + +"By God! if I have that young feller in de hayfield once, I show +him someting. Listen here what he do wit his money." And Frank +began the catalogue of the young man's reputed extravagances. + +Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the Goulds, for whom she +had nothing but good will, should make her so much trouble. She +hated to see the Sunday newspapers come into the house. Frank was +always reading about the doings of rich people and feeling outraged. +He had an inexhaustible stock of stories about their crimes and +follies, how they bribed the courts and shot down their butlers +with impunity whenever they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson had very +similar ideas, and they were two of the political agitators of the +county. + +The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the +ground was too wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to +Sainte-Agnes to spend the day at Moses Marcel's saloon. After he +was gone, Marie went out to the back porch to begin her butter-making. +A brisk wind had come up and was driving puffy white clouds across +the sky. The orchard was sparkling and rippling in the sun. Marie +stood looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid of the +churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the air, the merry sound of +the whetstone on the scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran +into the house, put on a short skirt and a pair of her husband's +boots, caught up a tin pail and started for the orchard. Emil +had already begun work and was mowing vigorously. When he saw her +coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. His yellow canvas leggings +and khaki trousers were splashed to the knees. + +"Don't let me disturb you, Emil. I'm going to pick cherries. +Isn't everything beautiful after the rain? Oh, but I'm glad to get +this place mowed! When I heard it raining in the night, I thought +maybe you would come and do it for me to-day. The wind wakened +me. Didn't it blow dreadfully? Just smell the wild roses! They +are always so spicy after a rain. We never had so many of them +in here before. I suppose it's the wet season. Will you have to +cut them, too?" + +"If I cut the grass, I will," Emil said teasingly. "What's the +matter with you? What makes you so flighty?" + +"Am I flighty? I suppose that's the wet season, too, then. It's +exciting to see everything growing so fast,--and to get the grass +cut! Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut them. Oh, +I don't mean all of them, I mean that low place down by my tree, where +there are so many. Aren't you splashed! Look at the spider-webs +all over the grass. Good-bye. I'll call you if I see a snake." + +She tripped away and Emil stood looking after her. In a few moments +he heard the cherries dropping smartly into the pail, and he began +to swing his scythe with that long, even stroke that few American +boys ever learn. Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, +stripping one glittering branch after another, shivering when she +caught a shower of raindrops on her neck and hair. And Emil mowed +his way slowly down toward the cherry trees. + +That summer the rains had been so many and opportune that it was +almost more than Shabata and his man could do to keep up with the +corn; the orchard was a neglected wilderness. All sorts of weeds and +herbs and flowers had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, +pale green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, plantations of wild +cotton, tangles of foxtail and wild wheat. South of the apricot +trees, cornering on the wheatfield, was Frank's alfalfa, where +myriads of white and yellow butterflies were always fluttering +above the purple blossoms. When Emil reached the lower corner by +the hedge, Marie was sitting under her white mulberry tree, the +pailful of cherries beside her, looking off at the gentle, tireless +swelling of the wheat. + +"Emil," she said suddenly--he was mowing quietly about under the +tree so as not to disturb her--"what religion did the Swedes have +away back, before they were Christians?" + +Emil paused and straightened his back. "I don't know. About like +the Germans', wasn't it?" + +Marie went on as if she had not heard him. "The Bohemians, you +know, were tree worshipers before the missionaries came. Father says +the people in the mountains still do queer things, sometimes,--they +believe that trees bring good or bad luck." + +Emil looked superior. "Do they? Well, which are the lucky trees? +I'd like to know." + +"I don't know all of them, but I know lindens are. The old people +in the mountains plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do away +with the spells that come from the old trees they say have lasted +from heathen times. I'm a good Catholic, but I think I could get +along with caring for trees, if I hadn't anything else." + +"That's a poor saying," said Emil, stooping over to wipe his hands +in the wet grass. + +"Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that way. I like trees +because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than +other things do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever +think of when I sit here. When I come back to it, I never have to +remind it of anything; I begin just where I left off." + +Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached up among the branches +and began to pick the sweet, insipid fruit,--long ivory-colored +berries, tipped with faint pink, like white coral, that fall to +the ground unheeded all summer through. He dropped a handful into +her lap. + +"Do you like Mr. Linstrum?" Marie asked suddenly. + +"Yes. Don't you?" + +"Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of staid and school-teachery. +But, of course, he is older than Frank, even. I'm sure I don't +want to live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you think Alexandra +likes him very much?" + +"I suppose so. They were old friends." + +"Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!" Marie tossed her head impatiently. +"Does she really care about him? When she used to tell me about +him, I always wondered whether she wasn't a little in love with +him." + +"Who, Alexandra?" Emil laughed and thrust his hands into his +trousers pockets. "Alexandra's never been in love, you crazy!" He +laughed again. "She wouldn't know how to go about it. The idea!" + +Marie shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you don't know Alexandra as well +as you think you do! If you had any eyes, you would see that she +is very fond of him. It would serve you all right if she walked +off with Carl. I like him because he appreciates her more than +you do." + +Emil frowned. "What are you talking about, Marie? Alexandra's +all right. She and I have always been good friends. What more do +you want? I like to talk to Carl about New York and what a fellow +can do there." + +"Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of going off there?" + +"Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn't I?" The young man took up +his scythe and leaned on it. "Would you rather I went off in the +sand hills and lived like Ivar?" + +Marie's face fell under his brooding gaze. She looked down at his +wet leggings. "I'm sure Alexandra hopes you will stay on here," +she murmured. + +"Then Alexandra will be disappointed," the young man said roughly. +"What do I want to hang around here for? Alexandra can run the +farm all right, without me. I don't want to stand around and look +on. I want to be doing something on my own account." + +"That's so," Marie sighed. "There are so many, many things you +can do. Almost anything you choose." + +"And there are so many, many things I can't do." Emil echoed her +tone sarcastically. "Sometimes I don't want to do anything at +all, and sometimes I want to pull the four corners of the Divide +together,"--he threw out his arm and brought it back with a jerk,--"so, +like a table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses going up +and down, up and down." + +Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her face clouded. "I wish +you weren't so restless, and didn't get so worked up over things," +she said sadly. + +"Thank you," he returned shortly. + +She sighed despondently. "Everything I say makes you cross, don't +it? And you never used to be cross to me." + +Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning down at her bent head. +He stood in an attitude of self-defense, his feet well apart, his +hands clenched and drawn up at his sides, so that the cords stood +out on his bare arms. "I can't play with you like a little boy +any more," he said slowly. "That's what you miss, Marie. You'll +have to get some other little boy to play with." He stopped and took +a deep breath. Then he went on in a low tone, so intense that it +was almost threatening: "Sometimes you seem to understand perfectly, +and then sometimes you pretend you don't. You don't help things +any by pretending. It's then that I want to pull the corners of +the Divide together. If you WON'T understand, you know, I could +make you!" + +Marie clasped her hands and started up from her seat. She had grown +very pale and her eyes were shining with excitement and distress. +"But, Emil, if I understand, then all our good times are over, we +can never do nice things together any more. We shall have to behave +like Mr. Linstrum. And, anyhow, there's nothing to understand!" +She struck the ground with her little foot fiercely. "That won't +last. It will go away, and things will be just as they used to. +I wish you were a Catholic. The Church helps people, indeed it +does. I pray for you, but that's not the same as if you prayed +yourself." + +She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked entreatingly into his +face. Emil stood defiant, gazing down at her. + +"I can't pray to have the things I want," he said slowly, "and I +won't pray not to have them, not if I'm damned for it." + +Marie turned away, wringing her hands. "Oh, Emil, you won't try! +Then all our good times are over." + +"Yes; over. I never expect to have any more." + +Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe and began to mow. Marie +took up her cherries and went slowly toward the house, crying +bitterly. + + + +IX + + +On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl Linstrum's arrival, he rode +with Emil up into the French country to attend a Catholic fair. He +sat for most of the afternoon in the basement of the church, where +the fair was held, talking to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the +gravel terrace, thrown up on the hillside in front of the basement +doors, where the French boys were jumping and wrestling and throwing +the discus. Some of the boys were in their white baseball suits; +they had just come up from a Sunday practice game down in the +ballgrounds. Amedee, the newly married, Emil's best friend, was +their pitcher, renowned among the country towns for his dash and +skill. Amedee was a little fellow, a year younger than Emil and +much more boyish in appearance; very lithe and active and neatly +made, with a clear brown and white skin, and flashing white teeth. +The Sainte-Agnes boys were to play the Hastings nine in a fortnight, +and Amedee's lightning balls were the hope of his team. The little +Frenchman seemed to get every ounce there was in him behind the +ball as it left his hand. + +"You'd have made the battery at the University for sure, 'Medee," +Emil said as they were walking from the ball-grounds back to the +church on the hill. "You're pitching better than you did in the +spring." + +Amedee grinned. "Sure! A married man don't lose his head no more." +He slapped Emil on the back as he caught step with him. "Oh, Emil, +you wanna get married right off quick! It's the greatest thing +ever!" + +Emil laughed. "How am I going to get married without any girl?" + +Amedee took his arm. "Pooh! There are plenty girls will have +you. You wanna get some nice French girl, now. She treat you well; +always be jolly. See,"--he began checking off on his fingers,--"there +is Severine, and Alphosen, and Josephine, and Hectorine, and Louise, +and Malvina--why, I could love any of them girls! Why don't you +get after them? Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the matter +with you? I never did know a boy twenty-two years old before that +didn't have no girl. You wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a for me!" +Amedee swaggered. "I bring many good Catholics into this world, +I hope, and that's a way I help the Church." + +Emil looked down and patted him on the shoulder. "Now you're windy, +'Medee. You Frenchies like to brag." + +But Amedee had the zeal of the newly married, and he was not +to be lightly shaken off. "Honest and true, Emil, don't you want +ANY girl? Maybe there's some young lady in Lincoln, now, very +grand,"--Amedee waved his hand languidly before his face to denote +the fan of heartless beauty,--"and you lost your heart up there. +Is that it?" + +"Maybe," said Emil. + +But Amedee saw no appropriate glow in his friend's face. "Bah!" +he exclaimed in disgust. "I tell all the French girls to keep 'way +from you. You gotta rock in there," thumping Emil on the ribs. + +When they reached the terrace at the side of the church, Amedee, +who was excited by his success on the ball-grounds, challenged +Emil to a jumping-match, though he knew he would be beaten. They +belted themselves up, and Raoul Marcel, the choir tenor and Father +Duchesne's pet, and Jean Bordelau, held the string over which they +vaulted. All the French boys stood round, cheering and humping +themselves up when Emil or Amedee went over the wire, as if they +were helping in the lift. Emil stopped at five-feet-five, declaring +that he would spoil his appetite for supper if he jumped any more. + +Angelique, Amedee's pretty bride, as blonde and fair as her name, +who had come out to watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and +said:-- + +"'Medee could jump much higher than you if he were as tall. And +anyhow, he is much more graceful. He goes over like a bird, and +you have to hump yourself all up." + +"Oh, I do, do I?" Emil caught her and kissed her saucy mouth squarely, +while she laughed and struggled and called, "'Medee! 'Medee!" + +"There, you see your 'Medee isn't even big enough to get you away +from me. I could run away with you right now and he could only +sit down and cry about it. I'll show you whether I have to hump +myself!" Laughing and panting, he picked Angelique up in his arms +and began running about the rectangle with her. Not until he saw +Marie Shabata's tiger eyes flashing from the gloom of the basement +doorway did he hand the disheveled bride over to her husband. +"There, go to your graceful; I haven't the heart to take you away +from him." + +Angelique clung to her husband and made faces at Emil over the +white shoulder of Amedee's ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused at +her air of proprietorship and at Amedee's shameless submission to +it. He was delighted with his friend's good fortune. He liked to +see and to think about Amedee's sunny, natural, happy love. + +He and Amedee had ridden and wrestled and larked together since +they were lads of twelve. On Sundays and holidays they were always +arm in arm. It seemed strange that now he should have to hide the +thing that Amedee was so proud of, that the feeling which gave one +of them such happiness should bring the other such despair. It +was like that when Alexandra tested her seed-corn in the spring, +he mused. From two ears that had grown side by side, the grains +of one shot up joyfully into the light, projecting themselves into +the future, and the grains from the other lay still in the earth +and rotted; and nobody knew why. + + + +X + + +While Emil and Carl were amusing themselves at the fair, Alexandra +was at home, busy with her account-books, which had been neglected +of late. She was almost through with her figures when she heard +a cart drive up to the gate, and looking out of the window she saw +her two older brothers. They had seemed to avoid her ever since +Carl Linstrum's arrival, four weeks ago that day, and she hurried +to the door to welcome them. She saw at once that they had come +with some very definite purpose. They followed her stiffly into +the sitting-room. Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the window +and remained standing, his hands behind him. + +"You are by yourself?" he asked, looking toward the doorway into +the parlor. + +"Yes. Carl and Emil went up to the Catholic fair." + +For a few moments neither of the men spoke. + +Then Lou came out sharply. "How soon does he intend to go away +from here?" + +"I don't know, Lou. Not for some time, I hope." Alexandra spoke +in an even, quiet tone that often exasperated her brothers. They +felt that she was trying to be superior with them. + +Oscar spoke up grimly. "We thought we ought to tell you that people +have begun to talk," he said meaningly. + +Alexandra looked at him. "What about?" + +Oscar met her eyes blankly. "About you, keeping him here so long. +It looks bad for him to be hanging on to a woman this way. People +think you're getting taken in." + +Alexandra shut her account-book firmly. "Boys," she said seriously, +"don't let's go on with this. We won't come out anywhere. I can't +take advice on such a matter. I know you mean well, but you must +not feel responsible for me in things of this sort. If we go on +with this talk it will only make hard feeling." + +Lou whipped about from the window. "You ought to think a little +about your family. You're making us all ridiculous." + +"How am I?" + +"People are beginning to say you want to marry the fellow." + +"Well, and what is ridiculous about that?" + +Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. "Alexandra! Can't you +see he's just a tramp and he's after your money? He wants to be +taken care of, he does!" + +"Well, suppose I want to take care of him? Whose business is it +but my own?" + +"Don't you know he'd get hold of your property?" + +"He'd get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly." + +Oscar sat up suddenly and Lou clutched at his bristly hair. + +"Give him?" Lou shouted. "Our property, our homestead?" + +"I don't know about the homestead," said Alexandra quietly. "I +know you and Oscar have always expected that it would be left to +your children, and I'm not sure but what you're right. But I'll +do exactly as I please with the rest of my land, boys." + +"The rest of your land!" cried Lou, growing more excited every +minute. "Didn't all the land come out of the homestead? It was +bought with money borrowed on the homestead, and Oscar and me worked +ourselves to the bone paying interest on it." + +"Yes, you paid the interest. But when you married we made a division +of the land, and you were satisfied. I've made more on my farms +since I've been alone than when we all worked together." + +"Everything you've made has come out of the original land that us +boys worked for, hasn't it? The farms and all that comes out of +them belongs to us as a family." + +Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. "Come now, Lou. Stick to +the facts. You are talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and +ask him who owns my land, and whether my titles are good." + +Lou turned to his brother. "This is what comes of letting a woman +meddle in business," he said bitterly. "We ought to have taken +things in our own hands years ago. But she liked to run things, +and we humored her. We thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We +never thought you'd do anything foolish." + +Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk with her knuckles. +"Listen, Lou. Don't talk wild. You say you ought to have taken +things into your own hands years ago. I suppose you mean before +you left home. But how could you take hold of what wasn't there? +I've got most of what I have now since we divided the property; +I've built it up myself, and it has nothing to do with you." + +Oscar spoke up solemnly. "The property of a family really belongs +to the men of the family, no matter about the title. If anything +goes wrong, it's the men that are held responsible." + +"Yes, of course," Lou broke in. "Everybody knows that. Oscar and +me have always been easy-going and we've never made any fuss. We +were willing you should hold the land and have the good of it, but +you got no right to part with any of it. We worked in the fields +to pay for the first land you bought, and whatever's come out of +it has got to be kept in the family." + +Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed on the one point he +could see. "The property of a family belongs to the men of the +family, because they are held responsible, and because they do the +work." + +Alexandra looked from one to the other, her eyes full of indignation. +She had been impatient before, but now she was beginning to feel +angry. "And what about my work?" she asked in an unsteady voice. + +Lou looked at the carpet. "Oh, now, Alexandra, you always took +it pretty easy! Of course we wanted you to. You liked to manage +round, and we always humored you. We realize you were a great +deal of help to us. There's no woman anywhere around that knows +as much about business as you do, and we've always been proud of +that, and thought you were pretty smart. But, of course, the real +work always fell on us. Good advice is all right, but it don't +get the weeds out of the corn." + +"Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the crop, and it sometimes +keeps the fields for corn to grow in," said Alexandra dryly. "Why, +Lou, I can remember when you and Oscar wanted to sell this homestead +and all the improvements to old preacher Ericson for two thousand +dollars. If I'd consented, you'd have gone down to the river and +scraped along on poor farms for the rest of your lives. When I put +in our first field of alfalfa you both opposed me, just because I +first heard about it from a young man who had been to the University. +You said I was being taken in then, and all the neighbors said +so. You know as well as I do that alfalfa has been the salvation +of this country. You all laughed at me when I said our land here +was about ready for wheat, and I had to raise three big wheat crops +before the neighbors quit putting all their land in corn. Why, I +remember you cried, Lou, when we put in the first big wheat-planting, +and said everybody was laughing at us." + +Lou turned to Oscar. "That's the woman of it; if she tells you to +put in a crop, she thinks she's put it in. It makes women conceited +to meddle in business. I shouldn't think you'd want to remind us +how hard you were on us, Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil." + +"Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. Conditions were hard. +Maybe I would never have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly +didn't choose to be the kind of girl I was. If you take even a +vine and cut it back again and again, it grows hard, like a tree." + +Lou felt that they were wandering from the point, and that +in digression Alexandra might unnerve him. He wiped his forehead +with a jerk of his handkerchief. "We never doubted you, Alexandra. +We never questioned anything you did. You've always had your own +way. But you can't expect us to sit like stumps and see you done +out of the property by any loafer who happens along, and making +yourself ridiculous into the bargain." + +Oscar rose. "Yes," he broke in, "everybody's laughing to see you +get took in; at your age, too. Everybody knows he's nearly five +years younger than you, and is after your money. Why, Alexandra, +you are forty years old!" + +"All that doesn't concern anybody but Carl and me. Go to town and +ask your lawyers what you can do to restrain me from disposing of +my own property. And I advise you to do what they tell you; for +the authority you can exert by law is the only influence you will +ever have over me again." Alexandra rose. "I think I would rather +not have lived to find out what I have to-day," she said quietly, +closing her desk. + +Lou and Oscar looked at each other questioningly. There seemed to +be nothing to do but to go, and they walked out. + +"You can't do business with women," Oscar said heavily as he +clambered into the cart. "But anyhow, we've had our say, at last." + +Lou scratched his head. "Talk of that kind might come too high, you +know; but she's apt to be sensible. You hadn't ought to said that +about her age, though, Oscar. I'm afraid that hurt her feelings; +and the worst thing we can do is to make her sore at us. She'd +marry him out of contrariness." + +"I only meant," said Oscar, "that she is old enough to know better, +and she is. If she was going to marry, she ought to done it long +ago, and not go making a fool of herself now." + +Lou looked anxious, nevertheless. "Of course," he reflected hopefully +and inconsistently, "Alexandra ain't much like other women-folks. +Maybe it won't make her sore. Maybe she'd as soon be forty as +not!" + + + +XI + + +Emil came home at about half-past seven o'clock that evening. Old +Ivar met him at the windmill and took his horse, and the young +man went directly into the house. He called to his sister and she +answered from her bedroom, behind the sitting-room, saying that +she was lying down. + +Emil went to her door. + +"Can I see you for a minute?" he asked. "I want to talk to you +about something before Carl comes." + +Alexandra rose quickly and came to the door. "Where is Carl?" + +"Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted to talk to him, so he +rode over to Oscar's with them. Are you coming out?" Emil asked +impatiently. + +"Yes, sit down. I'll be dressed in a moment." + +Alexandra closed her door, and Emil sank down on the old slat lounge +and sat with his head in his hands. When his sister came out, he +looked up, not knowing whether the interval had been short or long, +and he was surprised to see that the room had grown quite dark. +That was just as well; it would be easier to talk if he were not +under the gaze of those clear, deliberate eyes, that saw so far in +some directions and were so blind in others. Alexandra, too, was +glad of the dusk. Her face was swollen from crying. + +Emil started up and then sat down again. "Alexandra," he said +slowly, in his deep young baritone, "I don't want to go away to +law school this fall. Let me put it off another year. I want to +take a year off and look around. It's awfully easy to rush into +a profession you don't really like, and awfully hard to get out of +it. Linstrum and I have been talking about that." + +"Very well, Emil. Only don't go off looking for land." She came +up and put her hand on his shoulder. "I've been wishing you could +stay with me this winter." + +"That's just what I don't want to do, Alexandra. I'm restless. +I want to go to a new place. I want to go down to the City of +Mexico to join one of the University fellows who's at the head of +an electrical plant. He wrote me he could give me a little job, +enough to pay my way, and I could look around and see what I want +to do. I want to go as soon as harvest is over. I guess Lou and +Oscar will be sore about it." + +"I suppose they will." Alexandra sat down on the lounge beside +him. "They are very angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. +They will not come here again." + +Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he did not notice the +sadness of her tone. He was thinking about the reckless life he +meant to live in Mexico. + +"What about?" he asked absently. + +"About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am going to marry him, +and that some of my property will get away from them." + +Emil shrugged his shoulders. "What nonsense!" he murmured. "Just +like them." + +Alexandra drew back. "Why nonsense, Emil?" + +"Why, you've never thought of such a thing, have you? They always +have to have something to fuss about." + +"Emil," said his sister slowly, "you ought not to take things for +granted. Do you agree with them that I have no right to change my +way of living?" + +Emil looked at the outline of his sister's head in the dim light. +They were sitting close together and he somehow felt that she +could hear his thoughts. He was silent for a moment, and then said +in an embarrassed tone, "Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do +whatever you want to. I'll always back you." + +"But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to you if I married +Carl?" + +Emil fidgeted. The issue seemed to him too far-fetched to warrant +discussion. "Why, no. I should be surprised if you wanted to. I +can't see exactly why. But that's none of my business. You ought +to do as you please. Certainly you ought not to pay any attention +to what the boys say." + +Alexandra sighed. "I had hoped you might understand, a little, +why I do want to. But I suppose that's too much to expect. I've +had a pretty lonely life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is the only +friend I have ever had." + +Emil was awake now; a name in her last sentence roused him. He +put out his hand and took his sister's awkwardly. "You ought to +do just as you wish, and I think Carl's a fine fellow. He and I +would always get on. I don't believe any of the things the boys +say about him, honest I don't. They are suspicious of him because +he's intelligent. You know their way. They've been sore at me +ever since you let me go away to college. They're always trying to +catch me up. If I were you, I wouldn't pay any attention to them. +There's nothing to get upset about. Carl's a sensible fellow. He +won't mind them." + +"I don't know. If they talk to him the way they did to me, I think +he'll go away." + +Emil grew more and more uneasy. "Think so? Well, Marie said it +would serve us all right if you walked off with him." + +"Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would." Alexandra's voice +broke. + +Emil began unlacing his leggings. "Why don't you talk to her about +it? There's Carl, I hear his horse. I guess I'll go upstairs and +get my boots off. No, I don't want any supper. We had supper at +five o'clock, at the fair." + +Emil was glad to escape and get to his own room. He was a little +ashamed for his sister, though he had tried not to show it. He +felt that there was something indecorous in her proposal, and she +did seem to him somewhat ridiculous. There was trouble enough in +the world, he reflected, as he threw himself upon his bed, without +people who were forty years old imagining they wanted to get +married. In the darkness and silence Emil was not likely to think +long about Alexandra. Every image slipped away but one. He had +seen Marie in the crowd that afternoon. She sold candy at the +fair. WHY had she ever run away with Frank Shabata, and how could +she go on laughing and working and taking an interest in things? +Why did she like so many people, and why had she seemed pleased when +all the French and Bohemian boys, and the priest himself, crowded +round her candy stand? Why did she care about any one but him? Why +could he never, never find the thing he looked for in her playful, +affectionate eyes? + +Then he fell to imagining that he looked once more and found it +there, and what it would be like if she loved him,--she who, as +Alexandra said, could give her whole heart. In that dream he could +lie for hours, as if in a trance. His spirit went out of his body +and crossed the fields to Marie Shabata. + +At the University dances the girls had often looked wonderingly +at the tall young Swede with the fine head, leaning against the +wall and frowning, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling +or the floor. All the girls were a little afraid of him. He was +distinguished-looking, and not the jollying kind. They felt that +he was too intense and preoccupied. There was something queer about +him. Emil's fraternity rather prided itself upon its dances, and +sometimes he did his duty and danced every dance. But whether he +was on the floor or brooding in a corner, he was always thinking +about Marie Shabata. For two years the storm had been gathering +in him. + + + +XII + + +Carl came into the sitting-room while Alexandra was lighting the +lamp. She looked up at him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp +shoulders stooped as if he were very tired, his face was pale, +and there were bluish shadows under his dark eyes. His anger had +burned itself out and left him sick and disgusted. + +"You have seen Lou and Oscar?" Alexandra asked. + +"Yes." His eyes avoided hers. + +Alexandra took a deep breath. "And now you are going away. I +thought so." + +Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed the dark lock back +from his forehead with his white, nervous hand. "What a hopeless +position you are in, Alexandra!" he exclaimed feverishly. "It is +your fate to be always surrounded by little men. And I am no better +than the rest. I am too little to face the criticism of even such +men as Lou and Oscar. Yes, I am going away; to-morrow. I cannot +even ask you to give me a promise until I have something to offer +you. I thought, perhaps, I could do that; but I find I can't." + +"What good comes of offering people things they don't need?" +Alexandra asked sadly. "I don't need money. But I have needed +you for a great many years. I wonder why I have been permitted to +prosper, if it is only to take my friends away from me." + +"I don't deceive myself," Carl said frankly. "I know that I am +going away on my own account. I must make the usual effort. I +must have something to show for myself. To take what you would +give me, I should have to be either a very large man or a very +small one, and I am only in the middle class." + +Alexandra sighed. "I have a feeling that if you go away, you will +not come back. Something will happen to one of us, or to both. +People have to snatch at happiness when they can, in this world. +It is always easier to lose than to find. What I have is yours, +if you care enough about me to take it." + +Carl rose and looked up at the picture of John Bergson. "But I +can't, my dear, I can't! I will go North at once. Instead of idling +about in California all winter, I shall be getting my bearings up +there. I won't waste another week. Be patient with me, Alexandra. +Give me a year!" + +"As you will," said Alexandra wearily. "All at once, in a single +day, I lose everything; and I do not know why. Emil, too, is going +away." Carl was still studying John Bergson's face and Alexandra's +eyes followed his. "Yes," she said, "if he could have seen all +that would come of the task he gave me, he would have been sorry. +I hope he does not see me now. I hope that he is among the old +people of his blood and country, and that tidings do not reach him +from the New World." + + + + + + +PART III + +Winter Memories + + + + +I + + +Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season in +which Nature recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between the +fruitfulness of autumn and the passion of spring. The birds have +gone. The teeming life that goes on down in the long grass is +exterminated. The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run +shivering from one frozen garden patch to another and are hard put +to it to find frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes +roam the wintry waste, howling for food. The variegated fields +are all one color now; the pastures, the stubble, the roads, the +sky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcely +perceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they have taken +on. The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walk +in the roads or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country, +and the spirit is oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One could +easily believe that in that dead landscape the germs of life and +fruitfulness were extinct forever. + +Alexandra has settled back into her old routine. There are weekly +letters from Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl +went away. To avoid awkward encounters in the presence of curious +spectators, she has stopped going to the Norwegian Church and drives +up to the Reform Church at Hanover, or goes with Marie Shabata to +the Catholic Church, locally known as "the French Church." She has +not told Marie about Carl, or her differences with her brothers. +She was never very communicative about her own affairs, and when +she came to the point, an instinct told her that about such things +she and Marie would not understand one another. + +Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family misunderstandings might +deprive her of her yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day +of December Alexandra telephoned Annie that to-morrow she would +send Ivar over for her mother, and the next day the old lady arrived +with her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee had always entered +Alexandra's sitting-room with the same exclamation, "Now we be yust-a +like old times!" She enjoyed the liberty Alexandra gave her, and +hearing her own language about her all day long. Here she could +wear her nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, listen +to Ivar reading the Bible, and here she could run about among the +stables in a pair of Emil's old boots. Though she was bent almost +double, she was as spry as a gopher. Her face was as brown as if +it had been varnished, and as full of wrinkles as a washerwoman's +hands. She had three jolly old teeth left in the front of her +mouth, and when she grinned she looked very knowing, as if when +you found out how to take it, life wasn't half bad. While she and +Alexandra patched and pieced and quilted, she talked incessantly +about stories she read in a Swedish family paper, telling the plots +in great detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in Gottland +when she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot which were the printed +stories and which were the real stories, it all seemed so far away. +She loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, before +she went to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. "It +sends good dreams," she would say with a twinkle in her eye. + +When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for a week, Marie Shabata +telephoned one morning to say that Frank had gone to town for the +day, and she would like them to come over for coffee in the afternoon. +Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out and iron her new cross-stitched apron, +which she had finished only the night before; a checked gingham +apron worked with a design ten inches broad across the bottom; +a hunting scene, with fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen. +Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and refused a second +helping of apple dumplings. "I ta-ank I save up," she said with +a giggle. + +At two o'clock in the afternoon Alexandra's cart drove up to the +Shabatas' gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee's red shawl come bobbing up +the path. She ran to the door and pulled the old woman into the +house with a hug, helping her to take off her wraps while Alexandra +blanketed the horse outside. Mrs. Lee had put on her best black +satine dress--she abominated woolen stuffs, even in winter--and +a crocheted collar, fastened with a big pale gold pin, containing +faded daguerreotypes of her father and mother. She had not worn +her apron for fear of rumpling it, and now she shook it out and +tied it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie drew back and +threw up her hands, exclaiming, "Oh, what a beauty! I've never +seen this one before, have I, Mrs. Lee?" + +The old woman giggled and ducked her head. "No, yust las' night I +ma-ake. See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My +sister send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis." + +Marie ran to the door again. "Come in, Alexandra. I have been +looking at Mrs. Lee's apron. Do stop on your way home and show it +to Mrs. Hiller. She's crazy about cross-stitch." + +While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, Mrs. Lee went out to the +kitchen and settled herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove, +looking with great interest at the table, set for three, with a white +cloth, and a pot of pink geraniums in the middle. "My, a-an't you +gotta fine plants; such-a much flower. How you keep from freeze?" + +She pointed to the window-shelves, full of blooming fuchsias and +geraniums. + +"I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it's very cold I put +them all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights I +only put newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing, +but when they don't bloom he says, 'What's the matter with the +darned things?'-- What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?" + +"He got to Dawson before the river froze, and now I suppose I won't +hear any more until spring. Before he left California he sent me +a box of orange flowers, but they didn't keep very well. I have +brought a bunch of Emil's letters for you." Alexandra came out +from the sitting-room and pinched Marie's cheek playfully. "You +don't look as if the weather ever froze you up. Never have colds, +do you? That's a good girl. She had dark red cheeks like this +when she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She looked like some queer +foreign kind of a doll. I've never forgot the first time I saw +you in Mieklejohn's store, Marie, the time father was lying sick. +Carl and I were talking about that before he went away." + +"I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. When are you going to +send Emil's Christmas box?" + +"It ought to have gone before this. I'll have to send it by mail +now, to get it there in time." + +Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbasket. "I +knit this for him. It's a good color, don't you think? Will you +please put it in with your things and tell him it's from me, to +wear when he goes serenading." + +Alexandra laughed. "I don't believe he goes serenading much. He +says in one letter that the Mexican ladies are said to be very +beautiful, but that don't seem to me very warm praise." + +Marie tossed her head. "Emil can't fool me. If he's bought a +guitar, he goes serenading. Who wouldn't, with all those Spanish +girls dropping flowers down from their windows! I'd sing to them +every night, wouldn't you, Mrs. Lee?" + +The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent down and +opened the oven door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the +tidy kitchen. "My, somet'ing smell good!" She turned to Alexandra +with a wink, her three yellow teeth making a brave show, "I ta-ank +dat stop my yaw from ache no more!" she said contentedly. + +Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, stuffed with stewed +apricots, and began to dust them over with powdered sugar. "I hope +you'll like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians always +like them with their coffee. But if you don't, I have a coffee-cake +with nuts and poppy seeds. Alexandra, will you get the cream jug? +I put it in the window to keep cool." + +"The Bohemians," said Alexandra, as they drew up to the table, +"certainly know how to make more kinds of bread than any other +people in the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the church +supper that she could make seven kinds of fancy bread, but Marie +could make a dozen." + +Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumb +and forefinger and weighed it critically. "Yust like-a fedders," +she pronounced with satisfaction. "My, a-an't dis nice!" she +exclaimed as she stirred her coffee. "I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly +now, too, I ta-ank." + +Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell to +talking of their own affairs. "I was afraid you had a cold when +I talked to you over the telephone the other night, Marie. What +was the matter, had you been crying?" + +"Maybe I had," Marie smiled guiltily. "Frank was out late that +night. Don't you get lonely sometimes in the winter, when everybody +has gone away?" + +"I thought it was something like that. If I hadn't had company, +I'd have run over to see for myself. If you get down-hearted, what +will become of the rest of us?" Alexandra asked. + +"I don't, very often. There's Mrs. Lee without any coffee!" + +Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marie +and Alexandra went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the +old lady wanted to borrow. "Better put on your coat, Alexandra. +It's cold up there, and I have no idea where those patterns are. I +may have to look through my old trunks." Marie caught up a shawl +and opened the stair door, running up the steps ahead of her guest. +"While I go through the bureau drawers, you might look in those +hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over where Frank's clothes hang. +There are a lot of odds and ends in them." + +She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandra +went into the clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding a +slender elastic yellow stick in her hand. + +"What in the world is this, Marie? You don't mean to tell me Frank +ever carried such a thing?" + +Marie blinked at it with astonishment and sat down on the floor. +"Where did you find it? I didn't know he had kept it. I haven't +seen it for years." + +"It really is a cane, then?" + +"Yes. One he brought from the old country. He used to carry it +when I first knew him. Isn't it foolish? Poor Frank!" + +Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. "He must +have looked funny!" + +Marie was thoughtful. "No, he didn't, really. It didn't seem out +of place. He used to be awfully gay like that when he was a young +man. I guess people always get what's hardest for them, Alexandra." +Marie gathered the shawl closer about her and still looked hard at +the cane. "Frank would be all right in the right place," she said +reflectively. "He ought to have a different kind of wife, for one +thing. Do you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly the right +sort of woman for Frank--now. The trouble is you almost have +to marry a man before you can find out the sort of wife he needs; +and usually it's exactly the sort you are not. Then what are you +going to do about it?" she asked candidly. + +Alexandra confessed she didn't know. "However," she added, "it +seems to me that you get along with Frank about as well as any +woman I've ever seen or heard of could." + +Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and blowing her warm breath +softly out into the frosty air. "No; I was spoiled at home. I +like my own way, and I have a quick tongue. When Frank brags, I +say sharp things, and he never forgets. He goes over and over it +in his mind; I can feel him. Then I'm too giddy. Frank's wife +ought to be timid, and she ought not to care about another living +thing in the world but just Frank! I didn't, when I married him, +but I suppose I was too young to stay like that." Marie sighed. + +Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so frankly about her husband +before, and she felt that it was wiser not to encourage her. No +good, she reasoned, ever came from talking about such things, and +while Marie was thinking aloud, Alexandra had been steadily searching +the hat-boxes. "Aren't these the patterns, Maria?" + +Maria sprang up from the floor. "Sure enough, we were looking +for patterns, weren't we? I'd forgot about everything but Frank's +other wife. I'll put that away." + +She poked the cane behind Frank's Sunday clothes, and though she +laughed, Alexandra saw there were tears in her eyes. + +When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall, +and Marie's visitors thought they must be getting home. She went +out to the cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs. +Lee while Alexandra took the blanket off her horse. As they drove +away, Marie turned and went slowly back to the house. She took up +the package of letters Alexandra had brought, but she did not read +them. She turned them over and looked at the foreign stamps, and +then sat watching the flying snow while the dusk deepened in the +kitchen and the stove sent out a red glow. + +Marie knew perfectly well that Emil's letters were written more for +her than for Alexandra. They were not the sort of letters that a +young man writes to his sister. They were both more personal and +more painstaking; full of descriptions of the gay life in the old +Mexican capital in the days when the strong hand of Porfirio Diaz +was still strong. He told about bull-fights and cock-fights, +churches and FIESTAS, the flower-markets and the fountains, the +music and dancing, the people of all nations he met in the Italian +restaurants on San Francisco Street. In short, they were the kind +of letters a young man writes to a woman when he wishes himself +and his life to seem interesting to her, when he wishes to enlist +her imagination in his behalf. + +Marie, when she was alone or when she sat sewing in the evening, +often thought about what it must be like down there where Emil was; +where there were flowers and street bands everywhere, and carriages +rattling up and down, and where there was a little blind boot-black +in front of the cathedral who could play any tune you asked for +by dropping the lids of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When +everything is done and over for one at twenty-three, it is pleasant +to let the mind wander forth and follow a young adventurer who has +life before him. "And if it had not been for me," she thought, +"Frank might still be free like that, and having a good time making +people admire him. Poor Frank, getting married wasn't very good +for him either. I'm afraid I do set people against him, as he says. +I seem, somehow, to give him away all the time. Perhaps he would +try to be agreeable to people again, if I were not around. It +seems as if I always make him just as bad as he can be." + +Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon as +the last satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After that +day the younger woman seemed to shrink more and more into herself. +When she was with Alexandra she was not spontaneous and frank +as she used to be. She seemed to be brooding over something, and +holding something back. The weather had a good deal to do with +their seeing less of each other than usual. There had not been +such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path across the fields was +drifted deep from Christmas until March. When the two neighbors +went to see each other, they had to go round by the wagon-road, +which was twice as far. They telephoned each other almost every +night, though in January there was a stretch of three weeks when +the wires were down, and when the postman did not come at all. + +Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. Hiller, +who was crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lame +shoemaker, to take care of her; and she went to the French Church, +whatever the weather. She was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed +for herself and for Frank, and for Emil, among the temptations of +that gay, corrupt old city. She found more comfort in the Church +that winter than ever before. It seemed to come closer to her, +and to fill an emptiness that ached in her heart. She tried to +be patient with her husband. He and his hired man usually played +California Jack in the evening. Marie sat sewing or crocheting and +tried to take a friendly interest in the game, but she was always +thinking about the wide fields outside, where the snow was drifting +over the fences; and about the orchard, where the snow was falling +and packing, crust over crust. When she went out into the dark +kitchen to fix her plants for the night, she used to stand by the +window and look out at the white fields, or watch the currents of +snow whirling over the orchard. She seemed to feel the weight of +all the snow that lay down there. The branches had become so hard +that they wounded your hand if you but tried to break a twig. And +yet, down under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, the +secret of life was still safe, warm as the blood in one's heart; +and the spring would come again! Oh, it would come again! + + + +II + + +If Alexandra had had much imagination she might have guessed what +was going on in Marie's mind, and she would have seen long before +what was going on in Emil's. But that, as Emil himself had more +than once reflected, was Alexandra's blind side, and her life had +not been of the kind to sharpen her vision. Her training had all +been toward the end of making her proficient in what she had undertaken +to do. Her personal life, her own realization of herself, was +almost a subconscious existence; like an underground river that +came to the surface only here and there, at intervals months apart, +and then sank again to flow on under her own fields. Nevertheless, +the underground stream was there, and it was because she had so much +personality to put into her enterprises and succeeded in putting +it into them so completely, that her affairs prospered better than +those of her neighbors. + +There were certain days in her life, outwardly uneventful, which +Alexandra remembered as peculiarly happy; days when she was close +to the flat, fallow world about her, and felt, as it were, in her +own body the joyous germination in the soil. There were days, +too, which she and Emil had spent together, upon which she loved +to look back. There had been such a day when they were down on +the river in the dry year, looking over the land. They had made +an early start one morning and had driven a long way before noon. +When Emil said he was hungry, they drew back from the road, gave +Brigham his oats among the bushes, and climbed up to the top of a +grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the shade of some little elm +trees. The river was clear there, and shallow, since there had +been no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling sand. Under +the overhanging willows of the opposite bank there was an inlet where +the water was deeper and flowed so slowly that it seemed to sleep +in the sun. In this little bay a single wild duck was swimming and +diving and preening her feathers, disporting herself very happily +in the flickering light and shade. They sat for a long time, +watching the solitary bird take its pleasure. No living thing +had ever seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild duck. Emil +must have felt about it as she did, for afterward, when they were +at home, he used sometimes to say, "Sister, you know our duck down +there--" Alexandra remembered that day as one of the happiest in +her life. Years afterward she thought of the duck as still there, +swimming and diving all by herself in the sunlight, a kind of +enchanted bird that did not know age or change. + +Most of Alexandra's happy memories were as impersonal as this one; +yet to her they were very personal. Her mind was a white book, +with clear writing about weather and beasts and growing things. +Not many people would have cared to read it; only a happy few. +She had never been in love, she had never indulged in sentimental +reveries. Even as a girl she had looked upon men as work-fellows. +She had grown up in serious times. + +There was one fancy indeed, which persisted through her girlhood. +It most often came to her on Sunday mornings, the one day in +the week when she lay late abed listening to the familiar morning +sounds; the windmill singing in the brisk breeze, Emil whistling +as he blacked his boots down by the kitchen door. Sometimes, as +she lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes closed, she used to have +an illusion of being lifted up bodily and carried lightly by some +one very strong. It was a man, certainly, who carried her, but +he was like no man she knew; he was much larger and stronger and +swifter, and he carried her as easily as if she were a sheaf of +wheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes closed, she could feel +that he was yellow like the sunlight, and there was the smell of +ripe cornfields about him. She could feel him approach, bend over +her and lift her, and then she could feel herself being carried +swiftly off across the fields. After such a reverie she would rise +hastily, angry with herself, and go down to the bath-house that +was partitioned off the kitchen shed. There she would stand in a +tin tub and prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by pouring +buckets of cold well-water over her gleaming white body which no +man on the Divide could have carried very far. + +As she grew older, this fancy more often came to her when she was +tired than when she was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had +been in the open all day, overseeing the branding of the cattle or +the loading of the pigs, she would come in chilled, take a concoction +of spices and warm home-made wine, and go to bed with her body +actually aching with fatigue. Then, just before she went to sleep, +she had the old sensation of being lifted and carried by a strong +being who took from her all her bodily weariness. + + + + + + +PART IV + +The White Mulberry Tree + + + + +I + + +The French Church, properly the Church of Sainte-Agnes, stood +upon a hill. The high, narrow, red-brick building, with its tall +steeple and steep roof, could be seen for miles across the wheatfields, +though the little town of Sainte-Agnes was completely hidden away +at the foot of the hill. The church looked powerful and triumphant +there on its eminence, so high above the rest of the landscape, +with miles of warm color lying at its feet, and by its position and +setting it reminded one of some of the churches built long ago in +the wheat-lands of middle France. + +Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson was driving along one +of the many roads that led through the rich French farming country +to the big church. The sunlight was shining directly in her face, +and there was a blaze of light all about the red church on the +hill. Beside Alexandra lounged a strikingly exotic figure in a +tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, and a black velvet jacket sewn with +silver buttons. Emil had returned only the night before, and his +sister was so proud of him that she decided at once to take him up +to the church supper, and to make him wear the Mexican costume he +had brought home in his trunk. "All the girls who have stands are +going to wear fancy costumes," she argued, "and some of the boys. +Marie is going to tell fortunes, and she sent to Omaha for a Bohemian +dress her father brought back from a visit to the old country. +If you wear those clothes, they will all be pleased. And you must +take your guitar. Everybody ought to do what they can to help +along, and we have never done much. We are not a talented family." + +The supper was to be at six o'clock, in the basement of the church, +and afterward there would be a fair, with charades and an auction. +Alexandra had set out from home early, leaving the house to Signa +and Nelse Jensen, who were to be married next week. Signa had +shyly asked to have the wedding put off until Emil came home. + +Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. As they drove +through the rolling French country toward the westering sun and the +stalwart church, she was thinking of that time long ago when she +and Emil drove back from the river valley to the still unconquered +Divide. Yes, she told herself, it had been worth while; both Emil +and the country had become what she had hoped. Out of her father's +children there was one who was fit to cope with the world, who had +not been tied to the plow, and who had a personality apart from the +soil. And that, she reflected, was what she had worked for. She +felt well satisfied with her life. + +When they reached the church, a score of teams were hitched in +front of the basement doors that opened from the hillside upon the +sanded terrace, where the boys wrestled and had jumping-matches. +Amedee Chevalier, a proud father of one week, rushed out and +embraced Emil. Amedee was an only son,--hence he was a very rich +young man,--but he meant to have twenty children himself, like +his uncle Xavier. "Oh, Emil," he cried, hugging his old friend +rapturously, "why ain't you been up to see my boy? You come +to-morrow, sure? Emil, you wanna get a boy right off! It's the +greatest thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick at all. Everything +just fine. That boy he come into this world laughin', and he been +laughin' ever since. You come an' see!" He pounded Emil's ribs +to emphasize each announcement. + +Emil caught his arms. "Stop, Amedee. You're knocking the wind out +of me. I brought him cups and spoons and blankets and moccasins +enough for an orphan asylum. I'm awful glad it's a boy, sure +enough!" + +The young men crowded round Emil to admire his costume and to tell +him in a breath everything that had happened since he went away. +Emil had more friends up here in the French country than down on +Norway Creek. The French and Bohemian boys were spirited and jolly, +liked variety, and were as much predisposed to favor anything new +as the Scandinavian boys were to reject it. The Norwegian and +Swedish lads were much more self-centred, apt to be egotistical +and jealous. They were cautious and reserved with Emil because he +had been away to college, and were prepared to take him down if he +should try to put on airs with them. The French boys liked a bit +of swagger, and they were always delighted to hear about anything +new: new clothes, new games, new songs, new dances. Now they +carried Emil off to show him the club room they had just fitted up +over the post-office, down in the village. They ran down the hill +in a drove, all laughing and chattering at once, some in French, +some in English. + +Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed basement where the women +were setting the tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building +a little tent of shawls where she was to tell fortunes. She sprang +down and ran toward Alexandra, stopping short and looking at her +in disappointment. Alexandra nodded to her encouragingly. + +"Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have taken him off to show +him something. You won't know him. He is a man now, sure enough. +I have no boy left. He smokes terrible-smelling Mexican cigarettes +and talks Spanish. How pretty you look, child. Where did you get +those beautiful earrings?" + +"They belonged to father's mother. He always promised them to me. +He sent them with the dress and said I could keep them." + +Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven cloth, a white bodice +and kirtle, a yellow silk turban wound low over her brown curls, +and long coral pendants in her ears. Her ears had been pierced +against a piece of cork by her great-aunt when she was seven years +old. In those germless days she had worn bits of broom-straw, plucked +from the common sweeping-broom, in the lobes until the holes were +healed and ready for little gold rings. + +When Emil came back from the village, he lingered outside on the +terrace with the boys. Marie could hear him talking and strumming +on his guitar while Raoul Marcel sang falsetto. She was vexed +with him for staying out there. It made her very nervous to hear +him and not to see him; for, certainly, she told herself, she was +not going out to look for him. When the supper bell rang and the +boys came trooping in to get seats at the first table, she forgot +all about her annoyance and ran to greet the tallest of the crowd, +in his conspicuous attire. She didn't mind showing her embarrassment +at all. She blushed and laughed excitedly as she gave Emil her +hand, and looked delightedly at the black velvet coat that brought +out his fair skin and fine blond head. Marie was incapable of being +lukewarm about anything that pleased her. She simply did not know +how to give a half-hearted response. When she was delighted, she +was as likely as not to stand on her tip-toes and clap her hands. +If people laughed at her, she laughed with them. + +"Do the men wear clothes like that every day, in the street?" She +caught Emil by his sleeve and turned him about. "Oh, I wish I lived +where people wore things like that! Are the buttons real silver? +Put on the hat, please. What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear +it? Why don't you tell us about the bull-fights?" + +She wanted to wring all his experiences from him at once, without +waiting a moment. Emil smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at +her with his old, brooding gaze, while the French girls fluttered +about him in their white dresses and ribbons, and Alexandra watched +the scene with pride. Several of the French girls, Marie knew, were +hoping that Emil would take them to supper, and she was relieved +when he took only his sister. Marie caught Frank's arm and dragged +him to the same table, managing to get seats opposite the Bergsons, +so that she could hear what they were talking about. Alexandra +made Emil tell Mrs. Xavier Chevalier, the mother of the twenty, +about how he had seen a famous matador killed in the bull-ring. +Marie listened to every word, only taking her eyes from Emil to +watch Frank's plate and keep it filled. When Emil finished his +account,-- bloody enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier and to make her +feel thankful that she was not a matador,--Marie broke out with +a volley of questions. How did the women dress when they went to +bull-fights? Did they wear mantillas? Did they never wear hats? + +After supper the young people played charades for the amusement +of their elders, who sat gossiping between their guesses. All the +shops in Sainte-Agnes were closed at eight o'clock that night, so +that the merchants and their clerks could attend the fair. The +auction was the liveliest part of the entertainment, for the French +boys always lost their heads when they began to bid, satisfied that +their extravagance was in a good cause. After all the pincushions +and sofa pillows and embroidered slippers were sold, Emil precipitated +a panic by taking out one of his turquoise shirt studs, which every +one had been admiring, and handing it to the auctioneer. All the +French girls clamored for it, and their sweethearts bid against +each other recklessly. Marie wanted it, too, and she kept making +signals to Frank, which he took a sour pleasure in disregarding. +He didn't see the use of making a fuss over a fellow just because +he was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise went to Malvina +Sauvage, the French banker's daughter, Marie shrugged her shoulders +and betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where she began +to shuffle her cards by the light of a tallow candle, calling out, +"Fortunes, fortunes!" + +The young priest, Father Duchesne, went first to have his fortune +read. Marie took his long white hand, looked at it, and then +began to run off her cards. "I see a long journey across water for +you, Father. You will go to a town all cut up by water; built on +islands, it seems to be, with rivers and green fields all about. +And you will visit an old lady with a white cap and gold hoops in +her ears, and you will be very happy there." + +"Mais, oui," said the priest, with a melancholy smile. "C'est +L'Isle-Adam, chez ma mere. Vous etes tres savante, ma fille." He +patted her yellow turban, calling, "Venez donc, mes garcons! Il +y a ici une veritable clairvoyante!" + +Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulging in a light irony +that amused the crowd. She told old Brunot, the miser, that he +would lose all his money, marry a girl of sixteen, and live happily +on a crust. Sholte, the fat Russian boy, who lived for his stomach, +was to be disappointed in love, grow thin, and shoot himself from +despondency. Amedee was to have twenty children, and nineteen of +them were to be girls. Amedee slapped Frank on the back and asked +him why he didn't see what the fortune-teller would promise him. +But Frank shook off his friendly hand and grunted, "She tell my +fortune long ago; bad enough!" Then he withdrew to a corner and +sat glowering at his wife. + +Frank's case was all the more painful because he had no one +in particular to fix his jealousy upon. Sometimes he could have +thanked the man who would bring him evidence against his wife. +He had discharged a good farm-boy, Jan Smirka, because he thought +Marie was fond of him; but she had not seemed to miss Jan when +he was gone, and she had been just as kind to the next boy. The +farm-hands would always do anything for Marie; Frank couldn't find +one so surly that he would not make an effort to please her. At +the bottom of his heart Frank knew well enough that if he could once +give up his grudge, his wife would come back to him. But he could +never in the world do that. The grudge was fundamental. Perhaps +he could not have given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he got more +satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than he would have got +out of being loved. If he could once have made Marie thoroughly +unhappy, he might have relented and raised her from the dust. But +she had never humbled herself. In the first days of their love +she had been his slave; she had admired him abandonedly. But the +moment he began to bully her and to be unjust, she began to draw +away; at first in tearful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken disgust. +The distance between them had widened and hardened. It no longer +contracted and brought them suddenly together. The spark of her +life went somewhere else, and he was always watching to surprise +it. He knew that somewhere she must get a feeling to live upon, +for she was not a woman who could live without loving. He wanted +to prove to himself the wrong he felt. What did she hide in her +heart? Where did it go? Even Frank had his churlish delicacies; +he never reminded her of how much she had once loved him. For that +Marie was grateful to him. + +While Marie was chattering to the French boys, Amedee called Emil +to the back of the room and whispered to him that they were going +to play a joke on the girls. At eleven o'clock, Amedee was to go +up to the switchboard in the vestibule and turn off the electric +lights, and every boy would have a chance to kiss his sweetheart +before Father Duchesne could find his way up the stairs to turn the +current on again. The only difficulty was the candle in Marie's +tent; perhaps, as Emil had no sweetheart, he would oblige the boys +by blowing out the candle. Emil said he would undertake to do +that. + +At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to Marie's booth, and +the French boys dispersed to find their girls. He leaned over the +card-table and gave himself up to looking at her. "Do you think +you could tell my fortune?" he murmured. It was the first word he +had had alone with her for almost a year. "My luck hasn't changed +any. It's just the same." + +Marie had often wondered whether there was anyone else who could +look his thoughts to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met his +steady, powerful eyes, it was impossible not to feel the sweetness +of the dream he was dreaming; it reached her before she could shut +it out, and hid itself in her heart. She began to shuffle her +cards furiously. "I'm angry with you, Emil," she broke out with +petulance. "Why did you give them that lovely blue stone to sell? +You might have known Frank wouldn't buy it for me, and I wanted it +awfully!" + +Emil laughed shortly. "People who want such little things surely +ought to have them," he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the +pocket of his velvet trousers and brought out a handful of uncut +turquoises, as big as marbles. Leaning over the table he dropped +them into her lap. "There, will those do? Be careful, don't let +any one see them. Now, I suppose you want me to go away and let +you play with them?" + +Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue color of the stones. +"Oh, Emil! Is everything down there beautiful like these? How +could you ever come away?" + +At that instant Amedee laid hands on the switchboard. There was a +shiver and a giggle, and every one looked toward the red blur that +Marie's candle made in the dark. Immediately that, too, was gone. +Little shrieks and currents of soft laughter ran up and down the +dark hall. Marie started up,--directly into Emil's arms. In the +same instant she felt his lips. The veil that had hung uncertainly +between them for so long was dissolved. Before she knew what she +was doing, she had committed herself to that kiss that was at once +a boy's and a man's, as timid as it was tender; so like Emil and +so unlike any one else in the world. Not until it was over did +she realize what it meant. And Emil, who had so often imagined +the shock of this first kiss, was surprised at its gentleness and +naturalness. It was like a sigh which they had breathed together; +almost sorrowful, as if each were afraid of wakening something in +the other. + +When the lights came on again, everybody was laughing and shouting, +and all the French girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only +Marie, in her little tent of shawls, was pale and quiet. Under her +yellow turban the red coral pendants swung against white cheeks. +Frank was still staring at her, but he seemed to see nothing. Years +ago, he himself had had the power to take the blood from her cheeks +like that. Perhaps he did not remember--perhaps he had never +noticed! Emil was already at the other end of the hall, walking +about with the shoulder-motion he had acquired among the Mexicans, +studying the floor with his intent, deep-set eyes. Marie began to +take down and fold her shawls. She did not glance up again. The +young people drifted to the other end of the hall where the guitar +was sounding. In a moment she heard Emil and Raoul singing:-- + + +"Across the Rio Grand-e There lies a sunny land-e, My bright-eyed +Mexico!" + + +Alexandra Bergson came up to the card booth. "Let me help you, +Marie. You look tired." + +She placed her hand on Marie's arm and felt her shiver. Marie +stiffened under that kind, calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed +and hurt. + +There was about Alexandra something of the impervious calm of the +fatalist, always disconcerting to very young people, who cannot +feel that the heart lives at all unless it is still at the mercy +of storms; unless its strings can scream to the touch of pain. + + + +II + + +Signa's wedding supper was over. The guests, and the tiresome +little Norwegian preacher who had performed the marriage ceremony, +were saying good-night. Old Ivar was hitching the horses to the +wagon to take the wedding presents and the bride and groom up to +their new home, on Alexandra's north quarter. When Ivar drove up +to the gate, Emil and Marie Shabata began to carry out the presents, +and Alexandra went into her bedroom to bid Signa good-bye and to +give her a few words of good counsel. She was surprised to find +that the bride had changed her slippers for heavy shoes and was +pinning up her skirts. At that moment Nelse appeared at the gate +with the two milk cows that Alexandra had given Signa for a wedding +present. + +Alexandra began to laugh. "Why, Signa, you and Nelse are to ride +home. I'll send Ivar over with the cows in the morning." + +Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When her husband called her, +she pinned her hat on resolutely. "I ta-ank I better do yust like +he say," she murmured in confusion. + +Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to the gate and saw the +party set off, old Ivar driving ahead in the wagon and the bride +and groom following on foot, each leading a cow. Emil burst into +a laugh before they were out of hearing. + +"Those two will get on," said Alexandra as they turned back to the +house. "They are not going to take any chances. They will feel +safer with those cows in their own stable. Marie, I am going to +send for an old woman next. As soon as I get the girls broken in, +I marry them off." + +"I've no patience with Signa, marrying that grumpy fellow!" Marie +declared. "I wanted her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked +for us last winter. I think she liked him, too." + +"Yes, I think she did," Alexandra assented, "but I suppose she was +too much afraid of Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think +of it, most of my girls have married men they were afraid of. I +believe there is a good deal of the cow in most Swedish girls. +You high-strung Bohemian can't understand us. We're a terribly +practical people, and I guess we think a cross man makes a good +manager." + +Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to pin up a lock of hair +that had fallen on her neck. Somehow Alexandra had irritated her +of late. Everybody irritated her. She was tired of everybody. "I'm +going home alone, Emil, so you needn't get your hat," she said as +she wound her scarf quickly about her head. "Good-night, Alexandra," +she called back in a strained voice, running down the gravel walk. + +Emil followed with long strides until he overtook her. Then she began +to walk slowly. It was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, +and the fireflies were glimmering over the wheat. + +"Marie," said Emil after they had walked for a while, "I wonder if +you know how unhappy I am?" + +Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its white scarf, drooped +forward a little. + +Emil kicked a clod from the path and went on:-- + +"I wonder whether you are really shallow-hearted, like you seem? +Sometimes I think one boy does just as well as another for you. +It never seems to make much difference whether it is me or Raoul +Marcel or Jan Smirka. Are you really like that?" + +"Perhaps I am. What do you want me to do? Sit round and cry all +day? When I've cried until I can't cry any more, then--then I must +do something else." + +"Are you sorry for me?" he persisted. + +"No, I'm not. If I were big and free like you, I wouldn't let +anything make me unhappy. As old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, +I wouldn't go lovering after no woman. I'd take the first train +and go off and have all the fun there is." + +"I tried that, but it didn't do any good. Everything reminded me. +The nicer the place was, the more I wanted you." They had come to +the stile and Emil pointed to it persuasively. "Sit down a moment, +I want to ask you something." Marie sat down on the top step and +Emil drew nearer. "Would you tell me something that's none of my +business if you thought it would help me out? Well, then, tell +me, PLEASE tell me, why you ran away with Frank Shabata!" + +Marie drew back. "Because I was in love with him," she said firmly. + +"Really?" he asked incredulously. + +"Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. I think I was the one +who suggested our running away. From the first it was more my +fault than his." + +Emil turned away his face. + +"And now," Marie went on, "I've got to remember that. Frank is +just the same now as he was then, only then I would see him as I +wanted him to be. I would have my own way. And now I pay for it." + +"You don't do all the paying." + +"That's it. When one makes a mistake, there's no telling where +it will stop. But you can go away; you can leave all this behind +you." + +"Not everything. I can't leave you behind. Will you go away with +me, Marie?" + +Marie started up and stepped across the stile. "Emil! How wickedly +you talk! I am not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But what +am I going to do if you keep tormenting me like this!" she added +plaintively. + +"Marie, I won't bother you any more if you will tell me just +one thing. Stop a minute and look at me. No, nobody can see us. +Everybody's asleep. That was only a firefly. Marie, STOP and tell +me!" + +Emil overtook her and catching her by the shoulders shook her +gently, as if he were trying to awaken a sleepwalker. + +Marie hid her face on his arm. "Don't ask me anything more. I +don't know anything except how miserable I am. And I thought it +would be all right when you came back. Oh, Emil," she clutched his +sleeve and began to cry, "what am I to do if you don't go away? I +can't go, and one of us must. Can't you see?" + +Emil stood looking down at her, holding his shoulders stiff and +stiffening the arm to which she clung. Her white dress looked +gray in the darkness. She seemed like a troubled spirit, like some +shadow out of the earth, clinging to him and entreating him to give +her peace. Behind her the fireflies were weaving in and out over +the wheat. He put his hand on her bent head. "On my honor, Marie, +if you will say you love me, I will go away." + +She lifted her face to his. "How could I help it? Didn't you +know?" + +Emil was the one who trembled, through all his frame. After he +left Marie at her gate, he wandered about the fields all night, +till morning put out the fireflies and the stars. + + + +III + + +One evening, a week after Signa's wedding, Emil was kneeling before +a box in the sitting-room, packing his books. From time to time +he rose and wandered about the house, picking up stray volumes and +bringing them listlessly back to his box. He was packing without +enthusiasm. He was not very sanguine about his future. Alexandra +sat sewing by the table. She had helped him pack his trunk in +the afternoon. As Emil came and went by her chair with his books, +he thought to himself that it had not been so hard to leave his +sister since he first went away to school. He was going directly +to Omaha, to read law in the office of a Swedish lawyer until +October, when he would enter the law school at Ann Arbor. They +had planned that Alexandra was to come to Michigan--a long journey +for her--at Christmas time, and spend several weeks with him. +Nevertheless, he felt that this leavetaking would be more final +than his earlier ones had been; that it meant a definite break with +his old home and the beginning of something new--he did not know +what. His ideas about the future would not crystallize; the more +he tried to think about it, the vaguer his conception of it became. +But one thing was clear, he told himself; it was high time that he +made good to Alexandra, and that ought to be incentive enough to +begin with. + +As he went about gathering up his books he felt as if he were +uprooting things. At last he threw himself down on the old slat +lounge where he had slept when he was little, and lay looking up +at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. + +"Tired, Emil?" his sister asked. + +"Lazy," he murmured, turning on his side and looking at her. He +studied Alexandra's face for a long time in the lamplight. It had +never occurred to him that his sister was a handsome woman until +Marie Shabata had told him so. Indeed, he had never thought of +her as being a woman at all, only a sister. As he studied her bent +head, he looked up at the picture of John Bergson above the lamp. +"No," he thought to himself, "she didn't get it there. I suppose +I am more like that." + +"Alexandra," he said suddenly, "that old walnut secretary you use +for a desk was father's, wasn't it?" + +Alexandra went on stitching. "Yes. It was one of the first things +he bought for the old log house. It was a great extravagance +in those days. But he wrote a great many letters back to the old +country. He had many friends there, and they wrote to him up to the +time he died. No one ever blamed him for grandfather's disgrace. +I can see him now, sitting there on Sundays, in his white shirt, +writing pages and pages, so carefully. He wrote a fine, regular +hand, almost like engraving. Yours is something like his, when +you take pains." + +"Grandfather was really crooked, was he?" + +"He married an unscrupulous woman, and then--then I'm afraid he +was really crooked. When we first came here father used to have +dreams about making a great fortune and going back to Sweden to +pay back to the poor sailors the money grandfather had lost." + +Emil stirred on the lounge. "I say, that would have been worth +while, wouldn't it? Father wasn't a bit like Lou or Oscar, was +he? I can't remember much about him before he got sick." + +"Oh, not at all!" Alexandra dropped her sewing on her knee. "He +had better opportunities; not to make money, but to make something +of himself. He was a quiet man, but he was very intelligent. You +would have been proud of him, Emil." + +Alexandra felt that he would like to know there had been a man of +his kin whom he could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed of +Lou and Oscar, because they were bigoted and self-satisfied. He +never said much about them, but she could feel his disgust. His +brothers had shown their disapproval of him ever since he first +went away to school. The only thing that would have satisfied them +would have been his failure at the University. As it was, they +resented every change in his speech, in his dress, in his point of +view; though the latter they had to conjecture, for Emil avoided +talking to them about any but family matters. All his interests +they treated as affectations. + +Alexandra took up her sewing again. "I can remember father when +he was quite a young man. He belonged to some kind of a musical +society, a male chorus, in Stockholm. I can remember going with +mother to hear them sing. There must have been a hundred of them, +and they all wore long black coats and white neckties. I was +used to seeing father in a blue coat, a sort of jacket, and when I +recognized him on the platform, I was very proud. Do you remember +that Swedish song he taught you, about the ship boy?" + +"Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. They like anything +different." Emil paused. "Father had a hard fight here, didn't +he?" he added thoughtfully. + +"Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he had hope. He believed +in the land." + +"And in you, I guess," Emil said to himself. There was another +period of silence; that warm, friendly silence, full of perfect +understanding, in which Emil and Alexandra had spent many of their +happiest half-hours. + +At last Emil said abruptly, "Lou and Oscar would be better off if +they were poor, wouldn't they?" + +Alexandra smiled. "Maybe. But their children wouldn't. I have +great hopes of Milly." + +Emil shivered. "I don't know. Seems to me it gets worse as it +goes on. The worst of the Swedes is that they're never willing +to find out how much they don't know. It was like that at the +University. Always so pleased with themselves! There's no getting +behind that conceited Swedish grin. The Bohemians and Germans were +so different." + +"Come, Emil, don't go back on your own people. Father wasn't +conceited, Uncle Otto wasn't. Even Lou and Oscar weren't when they +were boys." + +Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dispute the point. He +turned on his back and lay still for a long time, his hands locked +under his head, looking up at the ceiling. Alexandra knew that he +was thinking of many things. She felt no anxiety about Emil. She +had always believed in him, as she had believed in the land. He +had been more like himself since he got back from Mexico; seemed +glad to be at home, and talked to her as he used to do. She had +no doubt that his wandering fit was over, and that he would soon +be settled in life. + +"Alexandra," said Emil suddenly, "do you remember the wild duck we +saw down on the river that time?" + +His sister looked up. "I often think of her. It always seems to +me she's there still, just like we saw her." + +"I know. It's queer what things one remembers and what things one +forgets." Emil yawned and sat up. "Well, it's time to turn in." +He rose, and going over to Alexandra stooped down and kissed her +lightly on the cheek. "Good-night, sister. I think you did pretty +well by us." + +Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. Alexandra sat finishing +his new nightshirt, that must go in the top tray of his trunk. + + + +IV + + +The next morning Angelique, Amedee's wife, was in the kitchen baking +pies, assisted by old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board +and the stove stood the old cradle that had been Amedee's, and in +it was his black-eyed son. As Angelique, flushed and excited, with +flour on her hands, stopped to smile at the baby, Emil Bergson rode +up to the kitchen door on his mare and dismounted. + +"'Medee is out in the field, Emil," Angelique called as she ran +across the kitchen to the oven. "He begins to cut his wheat to-day; +the first wheat ready to cut anywhere about here. He bought a new +header, you know, because all the wheat's so short this year. I +hope he can rent it to the neighbors, it cost so much. He and his +cousins bought a steam thresher on shares. You ought to go out and +see that header work. I watched it an hour this morning, busy as +I am with all the men to feed. He has a lot of hands, but he's +the only one that knows how to drive the header or how to run the +engine, so he has to be everywhere at once. He's sick, too, and +ought to be in his bed." + +Emil bent over Hector Baptiste, trying to make him blink his round, +bead-like black eyes. "Sick? What's the matter with your daddy, +kid? Been making him walk the floor with you?" + +Angelique sniffed. "Not much! We don't have that kind of babies. +It was his father that kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be +getting up and making mustard plasters to put on his stomach. He +had an awful colic. He said he felt better this morning, but I +don't think he ought to be out in the field, overheating himself." + +Angelique did not speak with much anxiety, not because she was +indifferent, but because she felt so secure in their good fortune. +Only good things could happen to a rich, energetic, handsome young +man like Amedee, with a new baby in the cradle and a new header in +the field. + +Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste's head. "I say, Angelique, +one of 'Medee's grandmothers, 'way back, must have been a squaw. +This kid looks exactly like the Indian babies." + +Angelique made a face at him, but old Mrs. Chevalier had been +touched on a sore point, and she let out such a stream of fiery +PATOIS that Emil fled from the kitchen and mounted his mare. + +Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, Emil rode across the field +to the clearing where the thresher stood, driven by a stationary +engine and fed from the header boxes. As Amedee was not on the +engine, Emil rode on to the wheatfield, where he recognized, on +the header, the slight, wiry figure of his friend, coatless, his +white shirt puffed out by the wind, his straw hat stuck jauntily +on the side of his head. The six big work-horses that drew, or +rather pushed, the header, went abreast at a rapid walk, and as they +were still green at the work they required a good deal of management +on Amedee's part; especially when they turned the corners, where +they divided, three and three, and then swung round into line again +with a movement that looked as complicated as a wheel of artillery. +Emil felt a new thrill of admiration for his friend, and with it +the old pang of envy at the way in which Amedee could do with his +might what his hand found to do, and feel that, whatever it was, +it was the most important thing in the world. "I'll have to bring +Alexandra up to see this thing work," Emil thought; "it's splendid!" + +When he saw Emil, Amedee waved to him and called to one of his +twenty cousins to take the reins. Stepping off the header without +stopping it, he ran up to Emil who had dismounted. "Come along," +he called. "I have to go over to the engine for a minute. I gotta +green man running it, and I gotta to keep an eye on him." + +Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed and more excited than +even the cares of managing a big farm at a critical time warranted. +As they passed behind a last year's stack, Amedee clutched at his +right side and sank down for a moment on the straw. + +"Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. Something's the matter +with my insides, for sure." + +Emil felt his fiery cheek. "You ought to go straight to bed, +'Medee, and telephone for the doctor; that's what you ought to do." + +Amedee staggered up with a gesture of despair. "How can I? I got +no time to be sick. Three thousand dollars' worth of new machinery +to manage, and the wheat so ripe it will begin to shatter next +week. My wheat's short, but it's gotta grand full berries. What's +he slowing down for? We haven't got header boxes enough to feed +the thresher, I guess." + +Amedee started hot-foot across the stubble, leaning a little to the +right as he ran, and waved to the engineer not to stop the engine. + +Emil saw that this was no time to talk about his own affairs. He +mounted his mare and rode on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends +there good-bye. He went first to see Raoul Marcel, and found him +innocently practising the "Gloria" for the big confirmation service +on Sunday while he polished the mirrors of his father's saloon. + +As Emil rode homewards at three o'clock in the afternoon, he saw +Amedee staggering out of the wheatfield, supported by two of his +cousins. Emil stopped and helped them put the boy to bed. + + + +V + + +When Frank Shabata came in from work at five o'clock that evening, +old Moses Marcel, Raoul's father, telephoned him that Amedee had +had a seizure in the wheatfield, and that Doctor Paradis was going +to operate on him as soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. +Frank dropped a word of this at the table, bolted his supper, and +rode off to Sainte-Agnes, where there would be sympathetic discussion +of Amedee's case at Marcel's saloon. + +As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned Alexandra. It was a +comfort to hear her friend's voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there +was to be known about Amedee. Emil had been there when they carried +him out of the field, and had stayed with him until the doctors +operated for appendicitis at five o'clock. They were afraid it +was too late to do much good; it should have been done three days +ago. Amedee was in a very bad way. Emil had just come home, worn +out and sick himself. She had given him some brandy and put him +to bed. + +Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amedee's illness had taken on a +new meaning to her, now that she knew Emil had been with him. And +it might so easily have been the other way-- Emil who was ill and +Amedee who was sad! Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. +She had seldom felt so utterly lonely. If Emil was asleep, there +was not even a chance of his coming; and she could not go to +Alexandra for sympathy. She meant to tell Alexandra everything, +as soon as Emil went away. Then whatever was left between them +would be honest. + +But she could not stay in the house this evening. Where should she +go? She walked slowly down through the orchard, where the evening +air was heavy with the smell of wild cotton. The fresh, salty scent +of the wild roses had given way before this more powerful perfume +of midsummer. Wherever those ashes-of-rose balls hung on their +milky stalks, the air about them was saturated with their breath. +The sky was still red in the west and the evening star hung +directly over the Bergsons' wind-mill. Marie crossed the fence at +the wheatfield corner, and walked slowly along the path that led +to Alexandra's. She could not help feeling hurt that Emil had not +come to tell her about Amedee. It seemed to her most unnatural +that he should not have come. If she were in trouble, certainly +he was the one person in the world she would want to see. Perhaps +he wished her to understand that for her he was as good as gone +already. + +Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the path, like a white +night-moth out of the fields. The years seemed to stretch before +her like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always +the same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; +always the same yearning, the same pulling at the chain--until the +instinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last +time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously +be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted toward the remote, +inaccessible evening star. + +When she reached the stile she sat down and waited. How terrible +it was to love people when you could not really share their lives! + +Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was already gone. They +couldn't meet any more. There was nothing for them to say. They +had spent the last penny of their small change; there was nothing +left but gold. The day of love-tokens was past. They had now +only their hearts to give each other. And Emil being gone, what +was her life to be like? In some ways, it would be easier. She +would not, at least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were once +away and settled at work, she would not have the feeling that she +was spoiling his life. With the memory he left her, she could be +as rash as she chose. Nobody could be the worse for it but herself; +and that, surely, did not matter. Her own case was clear. When a +girl had loved one man, and then loved another while that man was +still alive, everybody knew what to think of her. What happened +to her was of little consequence, so long as she did not drag other +people down with her. Emil once away, she could let everything +else go and live a new life of perfect love. + +Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, after all, thought he +might come. And how glad she ought to be, she told herself, that +he was asleep. She left the path and went across the pasture. The +moon was almost full. An owl was hooting somewhere in the fields. +She had scarcely thought about where she was going when the pond +glittered before her, where Emil had shot the ducks. She stopped +and looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty way out of life, if +one chose to take it. But she did not want to die. She wanted to +live and dream--a hundred years, forever! As long as this sweetness +welled up in her heart, as long as her breast could hold this +treasure of pain! She felt as the pond must feel when it held the +moon like that; when it encircled and swelled with that image of +gold. + +In the morning, when Emil came down-stairs, Alexandra met him +in the sitting-room and put her hands on his shoulders. "Emil, I +went to your room as soon as it was light, but you were sleeping +so sound I hated to wake you. There was nothing you could do, so +I let you sleep. They telephoned from Sainte-Agnes that Amedee +died at three o'clock this morning." + + + +VI + + +The Church has always held that life is for the living. On Saturday, +while half the village of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Amedee and +preparing the funeral black for his burial on Monday, the other +half was busy with white dresses and white veils for the great +confirmation service to-morrow, when the bishop was to confirm a +class of one hundred boys and girls. Father Duchesne divided his +time between the living and the dead. All day Saturday the church +was a scene of bustling activity, a little hushed by the thought +of Amedee. The choir were busy rehearsing a mass of Rossini, which +they had studied and practised for this occasion. The women were +trimming the altar, the boys and girls were bringing flowers. + +On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive overland to Sainte-Agnes +from Hanover, and Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place of +one of Amedee's cousins in the cavalcade of forty French boys who +were to ride across country to meet the bishop's carriage. At +six o'clock on Sunday morning the boys met at the church. As they +stood holding their horses by the bridle, they talked in low tones +of their dead comrade. They kept repeating that Amedee had always +been a good boy, glancing toward the red brick church which had +played so large a part in Amedee's life, had been the scene of his +most serious moments and of his happiest hours. He had played and +wrestled and sung and courted under its shadow. Only three weeks +ago he had proudly carried his baby there to be christened. They +could not doubt that that invisible arm was still about Amedee; that +through the church on earth he had passed to the church triumphant, +the goal of the hopes and faith of so many hundred years. + +When the word was given to mount, the young men rode at a walk out +of the village; but once out among the wheatfields in the morning +sun, their horses and their own youth got the better of them. A +wave of zeal and fiery enthusiasm swept over them. They longed +for a Jerusalem to deliver. The thud of their galloping hoofs +interrupted many a country breakfast and brought many a woman and +child to the door of the farmhouses as they passed. Five miles east +of Sainte-Agnes they met the bishop in his open carriage, attended +by two priests. Like one man the boys swung off their hats in a +broad salute, and bowed their heads as the handsome old man lifted +his two fingers in the episcopal blessing. The horsemen closed +about the carriage like a guard, and whenever a restless horse broke +from control and shot down the road ahead of the body, the bishop +laughed and rubbed his plump hands together. "What fine boys!" he +said to his priests. "The Church still has her cavalry." + +As the troop swept past the graveyard half a mile east of the +town,--the first frame church of the parish had stood there,--old +Pierre Seguin was already out with his pick and spade, digging +Amedee's grave. He knelt and uncovered as the bishop passed. The +boys with one accord looked away from old Pierre to the red church +on the hill, with the gold cross flaming on its steeple. + +Mass was at eleven. While the church was filling, Emil Bergson waited +outside, watching the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After +the bell began to ring, he saw Frank Shabata ride up on horseback +and tie his horse to the hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. +Emil turned and went into the church. Amedee's was the only empty +pew, and he sat down in it. Some of Amedee's cousins were there, +dressed in black and weeping. When all the pews were full, the +old men and boys packed the open space at the back of the church, +kneeling on the floor. There was scarcely a family in town that was +not represented in the confirmation class, by a cousin, at least. +The new communicants, with their clear, reverent faces, were beautiful +to look upon as they entered in a body and took the front benches +reserved for them. Even before the Mass began, the air was charged +with feeling. The choir had never sung so well and Raoul Marcel, +in the "Gloria," drew even the bishop's eyes to the organ loft. +For the offertory he sang Gounod's "Ave Maria,"-- always spoken of +in Sainte-Agnes as "the Ave Maria." + +Emil began to torture himself with questions about Marie. Was she +ill? Had she quarreled with her husband? Was she too unhappy to +find comfort even here? Had she, perhaps, thought that he would +come to her? Was she waiting for him? Overtaxed by excitement +and sorrow as he was, the rapture of the service took hold upon his +body and mind. As he listened to Raoul, he seemed to emerge from +the conflicting emotions which had been whirling him about and +sucking him under. He felt as if a clear light broke upon his +mind, and with it a conviction that good was, after all, stronger +than evil, and that good was possible to men. He seemed to discover +that there was a kind of rapture in which he could love forever +without faltering and without sin. He looked across the heads of +the people at Frank Shabata with calmness. That rapture was for those +who could feel it; for people who could not, it was non-existent. +He coveted nothing that was Frank Shabata's. The spirit he had +met in music was his own. Frank Shabata had never found it; would +never find it if he lived beside it a thousand years; would have +destroyed it if he had found it, as Herod slew the innocents, as +Rome slew the martyrs. + +SAN--CTA MARI-I-I-A, + +wailed Raoul from the organ loft; + +O--RA PRO NO-O-BIS! + +And it did not occur to Emil that any one had ever reasoned thus +before, that music had ever before given a man this equivocal +revelation. + +The confirmation service followed the Mass. When it was over, the +congregation thronged about the newly confirmed. The girls, and +even the boys, were kissed and embraced and wept over. All the +aunts and grandmothers wept with joy. The housewives had much ado +to tear themselves away from the general rejoicing and hurry back +to their kitchens. The country parishioners were staying in town +for dinner, and nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes entertained +visitors that day. Father Duchesne, the bishop, and the visiting +priests dined with Fabien Sauvage, the banker. Emil and Frank +Shabata were both guests of old Moise Marcel. After dinner Frank +and old Moise retired to the rear room of the saloon to play +California Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil went over to the +banker's with Raoul, who had been asked to sing for the bishop. + +At three o'clock, Emil felt that he could stand it no longer. He +slipped out under cover of "The Holy City," followed by Malvina's +wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. He was at that +height of excitement from which everything is foreshortened, from +which life seems short and simple, death very near, and the soul +seems to soar like an eagle. As he rode past the graveyard he looked +at the brown hole in the earth where Amedee was to lie, and felt +no horror. That, too, was beautiful, that simple doorway into +forgetfulness. The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for +that brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old +and the poor and the maimed who shrink from that brown hole; its +wooers are found among the young, the passionate, the gallant-hearted. +It was not until he had passed the graveyard that Emil realized +where he was going. It was the hour for saying good-bye. It might +be the last time that he would see her alone, and today he could +leave her without rancor, without bitterness. + +Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of +the smell of the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an +oven. The breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed him like +pleasant things in a dream. He could feel nothing but the sense of +diminishing distance. It seemed to him that his mare was flying, +or running on wheels, like a railway train. The sunlight, flashing +on the window-glass of the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. +He was like an arrow shot from the bow. His life poured itself +out along the road before him as he rode to the Shabata farm. + +When Emil alighted at the Shabatas' gate, his horse was in a lather. +He tied her in the stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. +She might be at Mrs. Hiller's or with Alexandra. But anything +that reminded him of her would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry +tree. . . When he reached the orchard the sun was hanging low over +the wheatfield. Long fingers of light reached through the apple +branches as through a net; the orchard was riddled and shot with +gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely interferences +that reflected and refracted light. Emil went softly down between +the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. When he came to the corner, +he stopped short and put his hand over his mouth. Marie was lying +on her side under the white mulberry tree, her face half hidden in +the grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply where they had +happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new life of perfect +love, and it had left her like this. Her breast rose and fell +faintly, as if she were asleep. Emil threw himself down beside +her and took her in his arms. The blood came back to her cheeks, +her amber eyes opened slowly, and in them Emil saw his own face +and the orchard and the sun. "I was dreaming this," she whispered, +hiding her face against him, "don't take my dream away!" + + + +VII + + +When Frank Shabata got home that night, he found Emil's mare in +his stable. Such an impertinence amazed him. Like everybody else, +Frank had had an exciting day. Since noon he had been drinking too +much, and he was in a bad temper. He talked bitterly to himself +while he put his own horse away, and as he went up the path and +saw that the house was dark he felt an added sense of injury. He +approached quietly and listened on the doorstep. Hearing nothing, +he opened the kitchen door and went softly from one room to another. +Then he went through the house again, upstairs and down, with no +better result. He sat down on the bottom step of the box stairway +and tried to get his wits together. In that unnatural quiet there +was no sound but his own heavy breathing. Suddenly an owl began +to hoot out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. An idea flashed +into his mind, and his sense of injury and outrage grew. He went +into his bedroom and took his murderous 405 Winchester from the +closet. + +When Frank took up his gun and walked out of the house, he had not +the faintest purpose of doing anything with it. He did not believe +that he had any real grievance. But it gratified him to feel like +a desperate man. He had got into the habit of seeing himself always +in desperate straits. His unhappy temperament was like a cage; he +could never get out of it; and he felt that other people, his wife +in particular, must have put him there. It had never more than +dimly occurred to Frank that he made his own unhappiness. Though +he took up his gun with dark projects in his mind, he would have +been paralyzed with fright had he known that there was the slightest +probability of his ever carrying any of them out. + +Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, stopped and stood for +a moment lost in thought. He retraced his steps and looked through +the barn and the hayloft. Then he went out to the road, where he +took the foot-path along the outside of the orchard hedge. The +hedge was twice as tall as Frank himself, and so dense that one +could see through it only by peering closely between the leaves. +He could see the empty path a long way in the moonlight. His mind +traveled ahead to the stile, which he always thought of as haunted +by Emil Bergson. But why had he left his horse? + +At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard hedge ended and the +path led across the pasture to the Bergsons', Frank stopped. In +the warm, breathless night air he heard a murmuring sound, perfectly +inarticulate, as low as the sound of water coming from a spring, +where there is no fall, and where there are no stones to fret it. +Frank strained his ears. It ceased. He held his breath and began +to tremble. Resting the butt of his gun on the ground, he parted +the mulberry leaves softly with his fingers and peered through +the hedge at the dark figures on the grass, in the shadow of the +mulberry tree. It seemed to him that they must feel his eyes, +that they must hear him breathing. But they did not. Frank, who +had always wanted to see things blacker than they were, for once +wanted to believe less than he saw. The woman lying in the shadow +might so easily be one of the Bergsons' farm-girls. . . . Again +the murmur, like water welling out of the ground. This time he +heard it more distinctly, and his blood was quicker than his brain. +He began to act, just as a man who falls into the fire begins to +act. The gun sprang to his shoulder, he sighted mechanically and +fired three times without stopping, stopped without knowing why. +Either he shut his eyes or he had vertigo. He did not see anything +while he was firing. He thought he heard a cry simultaneous with +the second report, but he was not sure. He peered again through +the hedge, at the two dark figures under the tree. They had fallen +a little apart from each other, and were perfectly still-- No, +not quite; in a white patch of light, where the moon shone through +the branches, a man's hand was plucking spasmodically at the grass. + +Suddenly the woman stirred and uttered a cry, then another, and +another. She was living! She was dragging herself toward the +hedge! Frank dropped his gun and ran back along the path, shaking, +stumbling, gasping. He had never imagined such horror. The +cries followed him. They grew fainter and thicker, as if she were +choking. He dropped on his knees beside the hedge and crouched +like a rabbit, listening; fainter, fainter; a sound like a whine; +again--a moan--another--silence. Frank scrambled to his feet and +ran on, groaning and praying. From habit he went toward the house, +where he was used to being soothed when he had worked himself into +a frenzy, but at the sight of the black, open door, he started back. +He knew that he had murdered somebody, that a woman was bleeding +and moaning in the orchard, but he had not realized before that +it was his wife. The gate stared him in the face. He threw his +hands over his head. Which way to turn? He lifted his tormented +face and looked at the sky. "Holy Mother of God, not to suffer! +She was a good girl--not to suffer!" + +Frank had been wont to see himself in dramatic situations; but +now, when he stood by the windmill, in the bright space between the +barn and the house, facing his own black doorway, he did not see +himself at all. He stood like the hare when the dogs are approaching +from all sides. And he ran like a hare, back and forth about that +moonlit space, before he could make up his mind to go into the +dark stable for a horse. The thought of going into a doorway was +terrible to him. He caught Emil's horse by the bit and led it out. +He could not have buckled a bridle on his own. After two or three +attempts, he lifted himself into the saddle and started for Hanover. +If he could catch the one o'clock train, he had money enough to +get as far as Omaha. + +While he was thinking dully of this in some less sensitized part +of his brain, his acuter faculties were going over and over the +cries he had heard in the orchard. Terror was the only thing that +kept him from going back to her, terror that she might still be +she, that she might still be suffering. A woman, mutilated and +bleeding in his orchard--it was because it was a woman that he +was so afraid. It was inconceivable that he should have hurt a +woman. He would rather be eaten by wild beasts than see her move +on the ground as she had moved in the orchard. Why had she been +so careless? She knew he was like a crazy man when he was angry. +She had more than once taken that gun away from him and held it, +when he was angry with other people. Once it had gone off while +they were struggling over it. She was never afraid. But, when +she knew him, why hadn't she been more careful? Didn't she have +all summer before her to love Emil Bergson in, without taking such +chances? Probably she had met the Smirka boy, too, down there in +the orchard. He didn't care. She could have met all the men on the +Divide there, and welcome, if only she hadn't brought this horror +on him. + +There was a wrench in Frank's mind. He did not honestly believe +that of her. He knew that he was doing her wrong. He stopped his +horse to admit this to himself the more directly, to think it out +the more clearly. He knew that he was to blame. For three years +he had been trying to break her spirit. She had a way of making +the best of things that seemed to him a sentimental affectation. +He wanted his wife to resent that he was wasting his best years +among these stupid and unappreciative people; but she had seemed +to find the people quite good enough. If he ever got rich he meant +to buy her pretty clothes and take her to California in a Pullman +car, and treat her like a lady; but in the mean time he wanted her +to feel that life was as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. He had +tried to make her life ugly. He had refused to share any of the +little pleasures she was so plucky about making for herself. She +could be gay about the least thing in the world; but she must be +gay! When she first came to him, her faith in him, her adoration-- +Frank struck the mare with his fist. Why had Marie made him do +this thing; why had she brought this upon him? He was overwhelmed +by sickening misfortune. All at once he heard her cries again-- +he had forgotten for a moment. "Maria," he sobbed aloud, "Maria!" + +When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the motion of his horse brought +on a violent attack of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on +again, but he could think of nothing except his physical weakness +and his desire to be comforted by his wife. He wanted to get into +his own bed. Had his wife been at home, he would have turned and +gone back to her meekly enough. + + + +VIII + + +When old Ivar climbed down from his loft at four o'clock the next +morning, he came upon Emil's mare, jaded and lather-stained, her +bridle broken, chewing the scattered tufts of hay outside the stable +door. The old man was thrown into a fright at once. He put the +mare in her stall, threw her a measure of oats, and then set out +as fast as his bow-legs could carry him on the path to the nearest +neighbor. + +"Something is wrong with that boy. Some misfortune has come upon +us. He would never have used her so, in his right senses. It is +not his way to abuse his mare," the old man kept muttering, as he +scuttled through the short, wet pasture grass on his bare feet. + +While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the first long rays of +the sun were reaching down between the orchard boughs to those two +dew-drenched figures. The story of what had happened was written +plainly on the orchard grass, and on the white mulberries that had +fallen in the night and were covered with dark stain. For Emil the +chapter had been short. He was shot in the heart, and had rolled +over on his back and died. His face was turned up to the sky and +his brows were drawn in a frown, as if he had realized that something +had befallen him. But for Marie Shabata it had not been so easy. +One ball had torn through her right lung, another had shattered +the carotid artery. She must have started up and gone toward the +hedge, leaving a trail of blood. There she had fallen and bled. +From that spot there was another trail, heavier than the first, +where she must have dragged herself back to Emil's body. Once +there, she seemed not to have struggled any more. She had lifted +her head to her lover's breast, taken his hand in both her own, +and bled quietly to death. She was lying on her right side in an +easy and natural position, her cheek on Emil's shoulder. On her +face there was a look of ineffable content. Her lips were parted +a little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a day-dream or a +light slumber. After she lay down there, she seemed not to have +moved an eyelash. The hand she held was covered with dark stains, +where she had kissed it. + +But the stained, slippery grass, the darkened mulberries, told only +half the story. Above Marie and Emil, two white butterflies from +Frank's alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out among the interlacing +shadows; diving and soaring, now close together, now far apart; +and in the long grass by the fence the last wild roses of the year +opened their pink hearts to die. + +When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he saw Shabata's rifle +lying in the way. He turned and peered through the branches, +falling upon his knees as if his legs had been mowed from under +him. "Merciful God!" he groaned; + +Alexandra, too, had risen early that morning, because of her anxiety +about Emil. She was in Emil's room upstairs when, from the window, +she saw Ivar coming along the path that led from the Shabatas'. +He was running like a spent man, tottering and lurching from side +to side. Ivar never drank, and Alexandra thought at once that one +of his spells had come upon him, and that he must be in a very bad +way indeed. She ran downstairs and hurried out to meet him, to +hide his infirmity from the eyes of her household. The old man +fell in the road at her feet and caught her hand, over which he +bowed his shaggy head. "Mistress, mistress," he sobbed, "it has +fallen! Sin and death for the young ones! God have mercy upon +us!" + + + + +PART V + +Alexandra + + + + +I + + +Ivar was sitting at a cobbler's bench in the barn, mending harness +by the light of a lantern and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. +It was only five o'clock of a mid-October day, but a storm had +come up in the afternoon, bringing black clouds, a cold wind and +torrents of rain. The old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, and +occasionally stopped to warm his fingers at the lantern. Suddenly +a woman burst into the shed, as if she had been blown in, accompanied by +a shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, wrapped in a man's overcoat +and wearing a pair of boots over her shoes. In time of trouble +Signa had come back to stay with her mistress, for she was the only +one of the maids from whom Alexandra would accept much personal +service. It was three months now since the news of the terrible +thing that had happened in Frank Shabata's orchard had first run +like a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were staying on with +Alexandra until winter. + +"Ivar," Signa exclaimed as she wiped the rain from her face, "do +you know where she is?" + +The old man put down his cobbler's knife. "Who, the mistress?" + +"Yes. She went away about three o'clock. I happened to look out +of the window and saw her going across the fields in her thin dress +and sun-hat. And now this storm has come on. I thought she was +going to Mrs. Hiller's, and I telephoned as soon as the thunder +stopped, but she had not been there. I'm afraid she is out somewhere +and will get her death of cold." + +Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. "JA, JA, we will see. +I will hitch the boy's mare to the cart and go." + +Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses' stable. +She was shivering with cold and excitement. "Where do you suppose +she can be, Ivar?" + +The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg. +"How should I know?" + +"But you think she is at the graveyard, don't you?" Signa persisted. +"So do I. Oh, I wish she would be more like herself! I can't +believe it's Alexandra Bergson come to this, with no head about +anything. I have to tell her when to eat and when to go to bed." + +"Patience, patience, sister," muttered Ivar as he settled the bit +in the horse's mouth. "When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the +eyes of the spirit are open. She will have a message from those +who are gone, and that will bring her peace. Until then we must +bear with her. You and I are the only ones who have weight with +her. She trusts us." + +"How awful it's been these last three months." Signa held the +lantern so that he could see to buckle the straps. "It don't seem +right that we must all be so miserable. Why do we all have to be +punished? Seems to me like good times would never come again." + +Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but said nothing. He stooped +and took a sandburr from his toe. + +"Ivar," Signa asked suddenly, "will you tell me why you go barefoot? +All the time I lived here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it +for a penance, or what?" + +"No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the body. From my youth +up I have had a strong, rebellious body, and have been subject to +every kind of temptation. Even in age my temptations are prolonged. +It was necessary to make some allowances; and the feet, as I +understand it, are free members. There is no divine prohibition +for them in the Ten Commandments. The hands, the tongue, the eyes, +the heart, all the bodily desires we are commanded to subdue; but +the feet are free members. I indulge them without harm to any +one, even to trampling in filth when my desires are low. They are +quickly cleaned again." + +Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful as she followed Ivar out +to the wagon-shed and held the shafts up for him, while he backed +in the mare and buckled the hold-backs. "You have been a good +friend to the mistress, Ivar," she murmured. + +"And you, God be with you," replied Ivar as he clambered into the +cart and put the lantern under the oilcloth lap-cover. "Now for +a ducking, my girl," he said to the mare, gathering up the reins. + +As they emerged from the shed, a stream of water, running off the +thatch, struck the mare on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly, +then struck out bravely on the soft ground, slipping back again and +again as she climbed the hill to the main road. Between the rain +and the darkness Ivar could see very little, so he let Emil's mare +have the rein, keeping her head in the right direction. When the +ground was level, he turned her out of the dirt road upon the sod, +where she was able to trot without slipping. + +Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three miles from the house, +the storm had spent itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, +dripping rain. The sky and the land were a dark smoke color, and +seemed to be coming together, like two waves. When Ivar stopped +at the gate and swung out his lantern, a white figure rose from +beside John Bergson's white stone. + +The old man sprang to the ground and shuffled toward the gate +calling, "Mistress, mistress!" + +Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her hand on his shoulder. +"TYST! Ivar. There's nothing to be worried about. I'm sorry if +I've scared you all. I didn't notice the storm till it was on me, +and I couldn't walk against it. I'm glad you've come. I am so +tired I didn't know how I'd ever get home." + +Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in her face. "GUD! +You are enough to frighten us, mistress. You look like a drowned +woman. How could you do such a thing!" + +Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the gate and helped her +into the cart, wrapping her in the dry blankets on which he had +been sitting. + +Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. "Not much use in that, Ivar. +You will only shut the wet in. I don't feel so cold now; but I'm +heavy and numb. I'm glad you came." + +Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a sliding trot. Her feet +sent back a continual spatter of mud. + +Alexandra spoke to the old man as they jogged along through the +sullen gray twilight of the storm. "Ivar, I think it has done me +good to get cold clear through like this, once. I don't believe +I shall suffer so much any more. When you get so near the dead, +they seem more real than the living. Worldly thoughts leave one. +Ever since Emil died, I've suffered so when it rained. Now that +I've been out in it with him, I shan't dread it. After you once +get cold clear through, the feeling of the rain on you is sweet. +It seems to bring back feelings you had when you were a baby. It +carries you back into the dark, before you were born; you can't +see things, but they come to you, somehow, and you know them and +aren't afraid of them. Maybe it's like that with the dead. If +they feel anything at all, it's the old things, before they were +born, that comfort people like the feeling of their own bed does +when they are little." + +"Mistress," said Ivar reproachfully, "those are bad thoughts. The +dead are in Paradise." + +Then he hung his head, for he did not believe that Emil was in +Paradise. + +When they got home, Signa had a fire burning in the sitting-room +stove. She undressed Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while +Ivar made ginger tea in the kitchen. When Alexandra was in bed, +wrapped in hot blankets, Ivar came in with his tea and saw that +she drank it. Signa asked permission to sleep on the slat lounge +outside her door. Alexandra endured their attentions patiently, +but she was glad when they put out the lamp and left her. As she +lay alone in the dark, it occurred to her for the first time that +perhaps she was actually tired of life. All the physical operations +of life seemed difficult and painful. She longed to be free from +her own body, which ached and was so heavy. And longing itself +was heavy: she yearned to be free of that. + +As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, more vividly than +for many years, the old illusion of her girlhood, of being lifted +and carried lightly by some one very strong. He was with her +a long while this time, and carried her very far, and in his arms +she felt free from pain. When he laid her down on her bed again, +she opened her eyes, and, for the first time in her life, she saw +him, saw him clearly, though the room was dark, and his face was +covered. He was standing in the doorway of her room. His white +cloak was thrown over his face, and his head was bent a little +forward. His shoulders seemed as strong as the foundations of the +world. His right arm, bared from the elbow, was dark and gleaming, +like bronze, and she knew at once that it was the arm of the +mightiest of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it was she had +waited, and where he would carry her. That, she told herself, was +very well. Then she went to sleep. + +Alexandra wakened in the morning with nothing worse than a hard cold +and a stiff shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, and it +was during that time that she formed a resolution to go to Lincoln +to see Frank Shabata. Ever since she last saw him in the courtroom, +Frank's haggard face and wild eyes had haunted her. The trial had +lasted only three days. Frank had given himself up to the police +in Omaha and pleaded guilty of killing without malice and without +premeditation. The gun was, of course, against him, and the judge +had given him the full sentence,--ten years. He had now been in +the State Penitentiary for a month. + +Frank was the only one, Alexandra told herself, for whom anything +could be done. He had been less in the wrong than any of them, +and he was paying the heaviest penalty. She often felt that she +herself had been more to blame than poor Frank. From the time the +Shabatas had first moved to the neighboring farm, she had omitted +no opportunity of throwing Marie and Emil together. Because she +knew Frank was surly about doing little things to help his wife, +she was always sending Emil over to spade or plant or carpenter +for Marie. She was glad to have Emil see as much as possible of an +intelligent, city-bred girl like their neighbor; she noticed that +it improved his manners. She knew that Emil was fond of Marie, but +it had never occurred to her that Emil's feeling might be different +from her own. She wondered at herself now, but she had never +thought of danger in that direction. If Marie had been unmarried, +--oh, yes! Then she would have kept her eyes open. But the mere +fact that she was Shabata's wife, for Alexandra, settled everything. +That she was beautiful, impulsive, barely two years older than +Emil, these facts had had no weight with Alexandra. Emil was a +good boy, and only bad boys ran after married women. + +Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize that Marie was, after +all, Marie; not merely a "married woman." Sometimes, when Alexandra +thought of her, it was with an aching tenderness. The moment she +had reached them in the orchard that morning, everything was clear +to her. There was something about those two lying in the grass, +something in the way Marie had settled her cheek on Emil's shoulder, +that told her everything. She wondered then how they could have +helped loving each other; how she could have helped knowing that +they must. Emil's cold, frowning face, the girl's content--Alexandra +had felt awe of them, even in the first shock of her grief. + +The idleness of those days in bed, the relaxation of body which +attended them, enabled Alexandra to think more calmly than she had +done since Emil's death. She and Frank, she told herself, were left +out of that group of friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster. +She must certainly see Frank Shabata. Even in the courtroom her +heart had grieved for him. He was in a strange country, he had no +kinsmen or friends, and in a moment he had ruined his life. Being +what he was, she felt, Frank could not have acted otherwise. She +could understand his behavior more easily than she could understand +Marie's. Yes, she must go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. + +The day after Emil's funeral, Alexandra had written to Carl Linstrum; +a single page of notepaper, a bare statement of what had happened. +She was not a woman who could write much about such a thing, and +about her own feelings she could never write very freely. She knew +that Carl was away from post-offices, prospecting somewhere in the +interior. Before he started he had written her where he expected +to go, but her ideas about Alaska were vague. As the weeks went +by and she heard nothing from him, it seemed to Alexandra that +her heart grew hard against Carl. She began to wonder whether she +would not do better to finish her life alone. What was left of +life seemed unimportant. + + + +II + + +Late in the afternoon of a brilliant October day, Alexandra Bergson, +dressed in a black suit and traveling-hat, alighted at the Burlington +depot in Lincoln. She drove to the Lindell Hotel, where she had +stayed two years ago when she came up for Emil's Commencement. In +spite of her usual air of sureness and self-possession, Alexandra +felt ill at ease in hotels, and she was glad, when she went to the +clerk's desk to register, that there were not many people in the +lobby. She had her supper early, wearing her hat and black jacket +down to the dining-room and carrying her handbag. After supper +she went out for a walk. + +It was growing dark when she reached the university campus. She +did not go into the grounds, but walked slowly up and down the +stone walk outside the long iron fence, looking through at the young +men who were running from one building to another, at the lights +shining from the armory and the library. A squad of cadets were +going through their drill behind the armory, and the commands of +their young officer rang out at regular intervals, so sharp and +quick that Alexandra could not understand them. Two stalwart girls +came down the library steps and out through one of the iron gates. +As they passed her, Alexandra was pleased to hear them speaking +Bohemian to each other. Every few moments a boy would come running +down the flagged walk and dash out into the street as if he were +rushing to announce some wonder to the world. Alexandra felt a +great tenderness for them all. She wished one of them would stop +and speak to her. She wished she could ask them whether they had +known Emil. + +As she lingered by the south gate she actually did encounter one +of the boys. He had on his drill cap and was swinging his books +at the end of a long strap. It was dark by this time; he did not +see her and ran against her. He snatched off his cap and stood +bareheaded and panting. "I'm awfully sorry," he said in a bright, +clear voice, with a rising inflection, as if he expected her to +say something. + +"Oh, it was my fault!" said Alexandra eagerly. "Are you an old +student here, may I ask?" + +"No, ma'am. I'm a Freshie, just off the farm. Cherry County. +Were you hunting somebody?" + +"No, thank you. That is--" Alexandra wanted to detain him. "That +is, I would like to find some of my brother's friends. He graduated +two years ago." + +"Then you'd have to try the Seniors, wouldn't you? Let's see; I +don't know any of them yet, but there'll be sure to be some of them +around the library. That red building, right there," he pointed. + +"Thank you, I'll try there," said Alexandra lingeringly. + +"Oh, that's all right! Good-night." The lad clapped his cap on +his head and ran straight down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked +after him wistfully. + +She walked back to her hotel unreasonably comforted. "What a nice +voice that boy had, and how polite he was. I know Emil was always +like that to women." And again, after she had undressed and was +standing in her nightgown, brushing her long, heavy hair by the +electric light, she remembered him and said to herself, "I don't +think I ever heard a nicer voice than that boy had. I hope he +will get on well here. Cherry County; that's where the hay is so +fine, and the coyotes can scratch down to water." + +At nine o'clock the next morning Alexandra presented herself +at the warden's office in the State Penitentiary. The warden was +a German, a ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had formerly been a +harness-maker. Alexandra had a letter to him from the German banker +in Hanover. As he glanced at the letter, Mr. Schwartz put away +his pipe. + +"That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he's gettin' along fine," said +Mr. Schwartz cheerfully. + +"I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he might be quarrelsome and +get himself into more trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I +would like to tell you a little about Frank Shabata, and why I am +interested in him." + +The warden listened genially while she told him briefly something +of Frank's history and character, but he did not seem to find +anything unusual in her account. + +"Sure, I'll keep an eye on him. We'll take care of him all right," +he said, rising. "You can talk to him here, while I go to see to +things in the kitchen. I'll have him sent in. He ought to be done +washing out his cell by this time. We have to keep 'em clean, you +know." + +The warden paused at the door, speaking back over his shoulder to +a pale young man in convicts' clothes who was seated at a desk in +the corner, writing in a big ledger. + +"Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just step out and give this +lady a chance to talk." + +The young man bowed his head and bent over his ledger again. + +When Mr. Schwartz disappeared, Alexandra thrust her black-edged +handkerchief nervously into her handbag. Coming out on the streetcar +she had not had the least dread of meeting Frank. But since she +had been here the sounds and smells in the corridor, the look of the +men in convicts' clothes who passed the glass door of the warden's +office, affected her unpleasantly. + +The warden's clock ticked, the young convict's pen scratched +busily in the big book, and his sharp shoulders were shaken every +few seconds by a loose cough which he tried to smother. It was easy +to see that he was a sick man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, +but he did not once raise his eyes. He wore a white shirt under +his striped jacket, a high collar, and a necktie, very carefully +tied. His hands were thin and white and well cared for, and he had +a seal ring on his little finger. When he heard steps approaching +in the corridor, he rose, blotted his book, put his pen in the rack, +and left the room without raising his eyes. Through the door he +opened a guard came in, bringing Frank Shabata. + +"You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? Here he is. Be on your +good behavior, now. He can set down, lady," seeing that Alexandra +remained standing. "Push that white button when you're through +with him, and I'll come." + +The guard went out and Alexandra and Frank were left alone. + +Alexandra tried not to see his hideous clothes. She tried to look +straight into his face, which she could scarcely believe was his. +It was already bleached to a chalky gray. His lips were colorless, +his fine teeth looked yellowish. He glanced at Alexandra sullenly, +blinked as if he had come from a dark place, and one eyebrow twitched +continually. She felt at once that this interview was a terrible +ordeal to him. His shaved head, showing the conformation of his +skull, gave him a criminal look which he had not had during the +trial. + +Alexandra held out her hand. "Frank," she said, her eyes filling +suddenly, "I hope you'll let me be friendly with you. I understand +how you did it. I don't feel hard toward you. They were more to +blame than you." + +Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from his trousers pocket. +He had begun to cry. He turned away from Alexandra. "I never +did mean to do not'ing to dat woman," he muttered. "I never mean +to do not'ing to dat boy. I ain't had not'ing ag'in' dat boy. I +always like dat boy fine. An' then I find him--" He stopped. The +feeling went out of his face and eyes. He dropped into a chair +and sat looking stolidly at the floor, his hands hanging loosely +between his knees, the handkerchief lying across his striped leg. +He seemed to have stirred up in his mind a disgust that had paralyzed +his faculties. + +"I haven't come up here to blame you, Frank. I think they were +more to blame than you." Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. + +Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of the office window. "I +guess dat place all go to hell what I work so hard on," he said +with a slow, bitter smile. "I not care a damn." He stopped and +rubbed the palm of his hand over the light bristles on his head +with annoyance. "I no can t'ink without my hair," he complained. +"I forget English. We not talk here, except swear." + +Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to have undergone a change +of personality. There was scarcely anything by which she could +recognize her handsome Bohemian neighbor. He seemed, somehow, not +altogether human. She did not know what to say to him. + +"You do not feel hard to me, Frank?" she asked at last. + +Frank clenched his fist and broke out in excitement. "I not feel +hard at no woman. I tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit +my wife. No, never I hurt her when she devil me something awful!" +He struck his fist down on the warden's desk so hard that he +afterward stroked it absently. A pale pink crept over his neck and +face. "Two, t'ree years I know dat woman don' care no more 'bout +me, Alexandra Bergson. I know she after some other man. I know +her, oo-oo! An' I ain't never hurt her. I never would-a done +dat, if I ain't had dat gun along. I don' know what in hell make +me take dat gun. She always say I ain't no man to carry gun. If +she been in dat house, where she ought-a been-- But das a foolish +talk." + +Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, as he had stopped +before. Alexandra felt that there was something strange in the way +he chilled off, as if something came up in him that extinguished +his power of feeling or thinking. + +"Yes, Frank," she said kindly. "I know you never meant to hurt +Marie." + +Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled slowly with tears. +"You know, I most forgit dat woman's name. She ain't got no name +for me no more. I never hate my wife, but dat woman what make me +do dat-- Honest to God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I +don' want to kill no boy and no woman. I not care how many men +she take under dat tree. I no care for not'ing but dat fine boy +I kill, Alexandra Bergson. I guess I go crazy sure 'nough." + +Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane she had found in Frank's +clothes-closet. She thought of how he had come to this country a +gay young fellow, so attractive that the prettiest Bohemian girl +in Omaha had run away with him. It seemed unreasonable that life +should have landed him in such a place as this. She blamed Marie +bitterly. And why, with her happy, affectionate nature, should +she have brought destruction and sorrow to all who had loved her, +even to poor old Joe Tovesky, the uncle who used to carry her about +so proudly when she was a little girl? That was the strangest thing +of all. Was there, then, something wrong in being warm-hearted +and impulsive like that? Alexandra hated to think so. But there +was Emil, in the Norwegian graveyard at home, and here was Frank +Shabata. Alexandra rose and took him by the hand. + +"Frank Shabata, I am never going to stop trying until I get you +pardoned. I'll never give the Governor any peace. I know I can +get you out of this place." + +Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he gathered confidence from +her face. "Alexandra," he said earnestly, "if I git out-a here, +I not trouble dis country no more. I go back where I come from; +see my mother." + +Alexandra tried to withdraw her hand, but Frank held on to it +nervously. He put out his finger and absently touched a button +on her black jacket. "Alexandra," he said in a low tone, looking +steadily at the button, "you ain' t'ink I use dat girl awful bad +before--" + +"No, Frank. We won't talk about that," Alexandra said, pressing +his hand. "I can't help Emil now, so I'm going to do what I can +for you. You know I don't go away from home often, and I came up +here on purpose to tell you this." + +The warden at the glass door looked in inquiringly. Alexandra +nodded, and he came in and touched the white button on his desk. +The guard appeared, and with a sinking heart Alexandra saw Frank +led away down the corridor. After a few words with Mr. Schwartz, +she left the prison and made her way to the street-car. She had +refused with horror the warden's cordial invitation to "go through +the institution." As the car lurched over its uneven roadbed, back +toward Lincoln, Alexandra thought of how she and Frank had been +wrecked by the same storm and of how, although she could come out +into the sunlight, she had not much more left in her life than +he. She remembered some lines from a poem she had liked in her +schooldays:-- + +Henceforth the world will only be A wider prison-house to me,-- + +and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her heart; some such +feeling as had twice frozen Frank Shabata's features while they +talked together. She wished she were back on the Divide. + +When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk held up one finger +and beckoned to her. As she approached his desk, he handed her a +telegram. Alexandra took the yellow envelope and looked at it in +perplexity, then stepped into the elevator without opening it. As +she walked down the corridor toward her room, she reflected that +she was, in a manner, immune from evil tidings. On reaching her +room she locked the door, and sitting down on a chair by the dresser, +opened the telegram. It was from Hanover, and it read:-- + + +Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait here until you come. Please +hurry. CARL LINSTRUM. + +Alexandra put her head down on the dresser and burst into tears. + + + +III + + +The next afternoon Carl and Alexandra were walking across the fields +from Mrs. Hiller's. Alexandra had left Lincoln after midnight, +and Carl had met her at the Hanover station early in the morning. +After they reached home, Alexandra had gone over to Mrs. Hiller's +to leave a little present she had bought for her in the city. They +stayed at the old lady's door but a moment, and then came out to +spend the rest of the afternoon in the sunny fields. + +Alexandra had taken off her black traveling suit and put on +a white dress; partly because she saw that her black clothes made +Carl uncomfortable and partly because she felt oppressed by them +herself. They seemed a little like the prison where she had worn +them yesterday, and to be out of place in the open fields. Carl +had changed very little. His cheeks were browner and fuller. He +looked less like a tired scholar than when he went away a year ago, +but no one, even now, would have taken him for a man of business. +His soft, lustrous black eyes, his whimsical smile, would be less +against him in the Klondike than on the Divide. There are always +dreamers on the frontier. + +Carl and Alexandra had been talking since morning. Her letter had +never reached him. He had first learned of her misfortune from +a San Francisco paper, four weeks old, which he had picked up in +a saloon, and which contained a brief account of Frank Shabata's +trial. When he put down the paper, he had already made up his +mind that he could reach Alexandra as quickly as a letter could; +and ever since he had been on the way; day and night, by the fastest +boats and trains he could catch. His steamer had been held back +two days by rough weather. + +As they came out of Mrs. Hiller's garden they took up their talk +again where they had left it. + +"But could you come away like that, Carl, without arranging things? +Could you just walk off and leave your business?" Alexandra asked. + +Carl laughed. "Prudent Alexandra! You see, my dear, I happen to +have an honest partner. I trust him with everything. In fact, +it's been his enterprise from the beginning, you know. I'm in it +only because he took me in. I'll have to go back in the spring. +Perhaps you will want to go with me then. We haven't turned up +millions yet, but we've got a start that's worth following. But +this winter I'd like to spend with you. You won't feel that we +ought to wait longer, on Emil's account, will you, Alexandra?" + +Alexandra shook her head. "No, Carl; I don't feel that way about +it. And surely you needn't mind anything Lou and Oscar say now. +They are much angrier with me about Emil, now, than about you. +They say it was all my fault. That I ruined him by sending him to +college." + +"No, I don't care a button for Lou or Oscar. The moment I knew +you were in trouble, the moment I thought you might need me, it all +looked different. You've always been a triumphant kind of person." +Carl hesitated, looking sidewise at her strong, full figure. "But +you do need me now, Alexandra?" + +She put her hand on his arm. "I needed you terribly when it +happened, Carl. I cried for you at night. Then everything seemed +to get hard inside of me, and I thought perhaps I should never care +for you again. But when I got your telegram yesterday, then--then +it was just as it used to be. You are all I have in the world, +you know." + +Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were passing the Shabatas' +empty house now, but they avoided the orchard path and took one +that led over by the pasture pond. + +"Can you understand it, Carl?" Alexandra murmured. "I have had +nobody but Ivar and Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you +understand it? Could you have believed that of Marie Tovesky? I +would have been cut to pieces, little by little, before I would +have betrayed her trust in me!" + +Carl looked at the shining spot of water before them. "Maybe she +was cut to pieces, too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they +both did. That was why Emil went to Mexico, of course. And he was +going away again, you tell me, though he had only been home three +weeks. You remember that Sunday when I went with Emil up to +the French Church fair? I thought that day there was some kind +of feeling, something unusual, between them. I meant to talk to +you about it. But on my way back I met Lou and Oscar and got so +angry that I forgot everything else. You mustn't be hard on them, +Alexandra. Sit down here by the pond a minute. I want to tell +you something." + +They sat down on the grass-tufted bank and Carl told her how he had +seen Emil and Marie out by the pond that morning, more than a year +ago, and how young and charming and full of grace they had seemed +to him. "It happens like that in the world sometimes, Alexandra," +he added earnestly. "I've seen it before. There are women who +spread ruin around them through no fault of theirs, just by being +too beautiful, too full of life and love. They can't help it. +People come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter. I used +to feel that in her when she was a little girl. Do you remember +how all the Bohemians crowded round her in the store that day, when +she gave Emil her candy? You remember those yellow sparks in her +eyes?" + +Alexandra sighed. "Yes. People couldn't help loving her. Poor +Frank does, even now, I think; though he's got himself in such +a tangle that for a long time his love has been bitterer than his +hate. But if you saw there was anything wrong, you ought to have +told me, Carl." + +Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. "My dear, it was something +one felt in the air, as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in +summer. I didn't SEE anything. Simply, when I was with those two +young things, I felt my blood go quicker, I felt--how shall I say +it?-- an acceleration of life. After I got away, it was all too +delicate, too intangible, to write about." + +Alexandra looked at him mournfully. "I try to be more liberal +about such things than I used to be. I try to realize that we are +not all made alike. Only, why couldn't it have been Raoul Marcel, +or Jan Smirka? Why did it have to be my boy?" + +"Because he was the best there was, I suppose. They were both the +best you had here." + +The sun was dropping low in the west when the two friends rose and +took the path again. The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, +the owls were flying home to the prairie-dog town. When they came +to the corner where the pastures joined, Alexandra's twelve young +colts were galloping in a drove over the brow of the hill. + +"Carl," said Alexandra, "I should like to go up there with you in +the spring. I haven't been on the water since we crossed the ocean, +when I was a little girl. After we first came out here I used +to dream sometimes about the shipyard where father worked, and a +little sort of inlet, full of masts." Alexandra paused. After a +moment's thought she said, "But you would never ask me to go away +for good, would you?" + +"Of course not, my dearest. I think I know how you feel about this +country as well as you do yourself." Carl took her hand in both +his own and pressed it tenderly. + +"Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is gone. When I was on +the train this morning, and we got near Hanover, I felt something +like I did when I drove back with Emil from the river that time, +in the dry year. I was glad to come back to it. I've lived here +a long time. There is great peace here, Carl, and freedom. . . +. I thought when I came out of that prison, where poor Frank is, +that I should never feel free again. But I do, here." Alexandra +took a deep breath and looked off into the red west. + +"You belong to the land," Carl murmured, "as you have always said. +Now more than ever." + +"Yes, now more than ever. You remember what you once said about +the graveyard, and the old story writing itself over? Only it is +we who write it, with the best we have." + +They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, overlooking the +house and the windmill and the stables that marked the site of John +Bergson's homestead. On every side the brown waves of the earth +rolled away to meet the sky. + +"Lou and Oscar can't see those things," said Alexandra suddenly. +"Suppose I do will my land to their children, what difference will +that make? The land belongs to the future, Carl; that's the way +it seems to me. How many of the names on the county clerk's plat +will be there in fifty years? I might as well try to will the +sunset over there to my brother's children. We come and go, but +the land is always here. And the people who love it and understand +it are the people who own it--for a little while." + +Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was still gazing into the west, +and in her face there was that exalted serenity that sometimes came +to her at moments of deep feeling. The level rays of the sinking +sun shone in her clear eyes. + +"Why are you thinking of such things now, Alexandra?" + +"I had a dream before I went to Lincoln-- But I will tell you about +that afterward, after we are married. It will never come true, +now, in the way I thought it might." She took Carl's arm and they +walked toward the gate. "How many times we have walked this path +together, Carl. How many times we will walk it again! Does it seem +to you like coming back to your own place? Do you feel at peace +with the world here? I think we shall be very happy. I haven't +any fears. I think when friends marry, they are safe. We don't +suffer like--those young ones." Alexandra ended with a sigh. + +They had reached the gate. Before Carl opened it, he drew Alexandra +to him and kissed her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. + +She leaned heavily on his shoulder. "I am tired," she murmured. +"I have been very lonely, Carl." + +They went into the house together, leaving the Divide behind them, +under the evening star. Fortunate country, that is one day to +receive hearts like Alexandra's into its bosom, to give them out +again in the yellow wheat, in the rustling corn, in the shining +eyes of youth! + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of O Pioneers! by Willa Cather + diff --git a/old/opion12.zip b/old/opion12.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..96c8134 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/opion12.zip diff --git a/old/opion13.txt b/old/opion13.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..613bed0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/opion13.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6352 @@ +**The Project Gutenberg Etext of O Pioneers! by Willa Cather** +#1 in our series by Willa Cather + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.08.01*END** +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced anonymously. +Version 12 was corrected by Martin Robb (MartinRobb@ieee.org) + + + + + +O Pioneers! + +by Willa Cather + + +PART I + +The Wild Land + + + + +I + + +One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, +anchored on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown +away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the +cluster of low drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under +a gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the +tough prairie sod; some of them looked as if they had been moved in +overnight, and others as if they were straying off by themselves, +headed straight for the open plain. None of them had any appearance +of permanence, and the howling wind blew under them as well as over +them. The main street was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard, +which ran from the squat red railway station and the grain "elevator" +at the north end of the town to the lumber yard and the horse pond +at the south end. On either side of this road straggled two uneven +rows of wooden buildings; the general merchandise stores, the two +banks, the drug store, the feed store, the saloon, the post-office. +The board sidewalks were gray with trampled snow, but at two o'clock +in the afternoon the shopkeepers, having come back from dinner, +were keeping well behind their frosty windows. The children were +all in school, and there was nobody abroad in the streets but a +few rough-looking countrymen in coarse overcoats, with their long +caps pulled down to their noses. Some of them had brought their +wives to town, and now and then a red or a plaid shawl flashed out +of one store into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars along +the street a few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, +shivered under their blankets. About the station everything was +quiet, for there would not be another train in until night. + +On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede +boy, crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth +coat was much too big for him and made him look like a little old +man. His shrunken brown flannel dress had been washed many times +and left a long stretch of stocking between the hem of his skirt +and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed shoes. His cap was pulled +down over his ears; his nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped and +red with cold. He cried quietly, and the few people who hurried +by did not notice him. He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to +go into the store and ask for help, so he sat wringing his long +sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole beside him, whimpering, "My +kitten, oh, my kitten! Her will fweeze!" At the top of the pole +crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing faintly and clinging +desperately to the wood with her claws. The boy had been left +at the store while his sister went to the doctor's office, and in +her absence a dog had chased his kitten up the pole. The little +creature had never been so high before, and she was too frightened +to move. Her master was sunk in despair. He was a little country +boy, and this village was to him a very strange and perplexing +place, where people wore fine clothes and had hard hearts. He +always felt shy and awkward here, and wanted to hide behind things +for fear some one might laugh at him. Just now, he was too unhappy +to care who laughed. At last he seemed to see a ray of hope: his +sister was coming, and he got up and ran toward her in his heavy +shoes. + +His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she walked rapidly and +resolutely, as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she +was going to do next. She wore a man's long ulster (not as if it +were an affliction, but as if it were very comfortable and belonged +to her; carried it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap, +tied down with a thick veil. She had a serious, thoughtful face, +and her clear, deep blue eyes were fixed intently on the distance, +without seeming to see anything, as if she were in trouble. She +did not notice the little boy until he pulled her by the coat. +Then she stopped short and stooped down to wipe his wet face. + +"Why, Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. +What is the matter with you?" + +"My kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased +her up there." His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his +coat, pointed up to the wretched little creature on the pole. + +"Oh, Emil! Didn't I tell you she'd get us into trouble of some +kind, if you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, +I ought to have known better myself." She went to the foot of the +pole and held out her arms, crying, "Kitty, kitty, kitty," but the +kitten only mewed and faintly waved its tail. Alexandra turned +away decidedly. "No, she won't come down. Somebody will have to +go up after her. I saw the Linstrums' wagon in town. I'll go and +see if I can find Carl. Maybe he can do something. Only you must +stop crying, or I won't go a step. Where's your comforter? Did +you leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold still, till I put +this on you." + +She unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his +throat. A shabby little traveling man, who was just then coming out +of the store on his way to the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly +at the shining mass of hair she bared when she took off her veil; +two thick braids, pinned about her head in the German way, with a +fringe of reddish-yellow curls blowing out from under her cap. He +took his cigar out of his mouth and held the wet end between the +fingers of his woolen glove. "My God, girl, what a head of hair!" +he exclaimed, quite innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with +a glance of Amazonian fierceness and drew in her lower lip--most +unnecessary severity. It gave the little clothing drummer such a +start that he actually let his cigar fall to the sidewalk and went +off weakly in the teeth of the wind to the saloon. His hand was +still unsteady when he took his glass from the bartender. His +feeble flirtatious instincts had been crushed before, but never +so mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, as if some one had +taken advantage of him. When a drummer had been knocking about in +little drab towns and crawling across the wintry country in dirty +smokingcars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced upon a fine +human creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a man? + +While the little drummer was drinking to recover his nerve, Alexandra +hurried to the drug store as the most likely place to find Carl +Linstrum. There he was, turning over a portfolio of chromo "studies" +which the druggist sold to the Hanover women who did chinapainting. +Alexandra explained her predicament, and the boy followed her to +the corner, where Emil still sat by the pole. + +"I'll have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot +they have some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute." Carl +thrust his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up +the street against the north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, +slight and narrow-chested. When he came back with the spikes, +Alexandra asked him what he had done with his overcoat. + +"I left it in the drug store. I couldn't climb in it, anyhow. +Catch me if I fall, Emil," he called back as he began his ascent. +Alexandra watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the +ground. The kitten would not budge an inch. Carl had to go to +the very top of the pole, and then had some difficulty in tearing +her from her hold. When he reached the ground, he handed the cat +to her tearful little master. "Now go into the store with her, +Emil, and get warm." He opened the door for the child. "Wait a +minute, Alexandra. Why can't I drive for you as far as our place? +It's getting colder every minute. Have you seen the doctor?" + +"Yes. He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father can't +get better; can't get well." The girl's lip trembled. She looked +fixedly up the bleak street as if she were gathering her strength +to face something, as if she were trying with all her might to +grasp a situation which, no matter how painful, must be met and +dealt with somehow. The wind flapped the skirts of her heavy coat +about her. + +Carl did not say anything, but she felt his sympathy. He, too, was +lonely. He was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very +quiet in all his movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin +face, and his mouth was too sensitive for a boy's. The lips had +already a little curl of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends +stood for a few moments on the windy street corner, not speaking +a word, as two travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand +and admit their perplexity in silence. When Carl turned away he +said, "I'll see to your team." Alexandra went into the store to +have her purchases packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm before +she set out on her long cold drive. + +When she looked for Emil, she found him sitting on a step of the +staircase that led up to the clothing and carpet department. He +was playing with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was +tying her handkerchief over the kitten's head for a bonnet. Marie +was a stranger in the country, having come from Omaha with her mother +to visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. She was a dark child, with brown +curly hair, like a brunette doll's, a coaxing little red mouth, and +round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one noticed her eyes; the brown +iris had golden glints that made them look like gold-stone, or, in +softer lights, like that Colorado mineral called tiger-eye. + +The country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their +shoe-tops, but this city child was dressed in what was then called +the "Kate Greenaway" manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered +full from the yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her +poke bonnet, gave her the look of a quaint little woman. She had +a white fur tippet about her neck and made no fussy objections when +Emil fingered it admiringly. Alexandra had not the heart to take +him away from so pretty a playfellow, and she let them tease the +kitten together until Joe Tovesky came in noisily and picked up +his little niece, setting her on his shoulder for every one to see. +His children were all boys, and he adored this little creature. +His cronies formed a circle about him, admiring and teasing the +little girl, who took their jokes with great good nature. They +were all delighted with her, for they seldom saw so pretty and +carefully nurtured a child. They told her that she must choose +one of them for a sweetheart, and each began pressing his suit and +offering her bribes; candy, and little pigs, and spotted calves. +She looked archly into the big, brown, mustached faces, smelling +of spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny forefinger delicately +over Joe's bristly chin and said, "Here is my sweetheart." + +The Bohemians roared with laughter, and Marie's uncle hugged her +until she cried, "Please don't, Uncle Joe! You hurt me." Each +of Joe's friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all +around, though she did not like country candy very well. Perhaps +that was why she bethought herself of Emil. "Let me down, Uncle +Joe," she said, "I want to give some of my candy to that nice little +boy I found." She walked graciously over to Emil, followed by her +lusty admirers, who formed a new circle and teased the little boy +until he hid his face in his sister's skirts, and she had to scold +him for being such a baby. + +The farm people were making preparations to start for home. The +women were checking over their groceries and pinning their big red +shawls about their heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy +with what money they had left, were showing each other new boots and +gloves and blue flannel shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking +raw alcohol, tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was said to +fortify one effectually against the cold, and they smacked their +lips after each pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every +other noise in the place, and the overheated store sounded of +their spirited language as it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens, +and kerosene. + +Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with +a brass handle. "Come," he said, "I've fed and watered your team, +and the wagon is ready." He carried Emil out and tucked him down +in the straw in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy +sleepy, but he still clung to his kitten. + +"You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. +When I get big I'll climb and get little boys' kittens for them," +he murmured drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, +Emil and his cat were both fast asleep. + +Although it was only four o'clock, the winter day was fading. The +road led southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that +glimmered in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young +faces that were turned mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, +who seemed to be looking with such anguished perplexity into the +future; upon the sombre eyes of the boy, who seemed already to be +looking into the past. The little town behind them had vanished as +if it had never been, had fallen behind the swell of the prairie, +and the stern frozen country received them into its bosom. The +homesteads were few and far apart; here and there a windmill gaunt +against the sky, a sod house crouching in a hollow. But the great +fact was the land itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little +beginnings of human society that struggled in its sombre wastes. +It was from facing this vast hardness that the boy's mouth had +become so bitter; because he felt that men were too weak to make +any mark here, that the land wanted to be let alone, to preserve +its own fierce strength, its peculiar, savage kind of beauty, its +uninterrupted mournfulness. + +The wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had +less to say to each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow +penetrated to their hearts. + +"Did Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut wood to-day?" Carl asked. + +"Yes. I'm almost sorry I let them go, it's turned so cold. But +mother frets if the wood gets low." She stopped and put her hand +to her forehead, brushing back her hair. "I don't know what is to +become of us, Carl, if father has to die. I don't dare to think +about it. I wish we could all go with him and let the grass grow +back over everything." + +Carl made no reply. Just ahead of them was the Norwegian graveyard, +where the grass had, indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy and +red, hiding even the wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a +very helpful companion, but there was nothing he could say. + +"Of course," Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, "the +boys are strong and work hard, but we've always depended so on +father that I don't see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if +there were nothing to go ahead for." + +"Does your father know?" + +"Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. +I think he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It's +a comfort to him that my chickens are laying right on through the +cold weather and bringing in a little money. I wish we could keep +his mind off such things, but I don't have much time to be with +him now." + +"I wonder if he'd like to have me bring my magic lantern over some +evening?" + +Alexandra turned her face toward him. "Oh, Carl! Have you got +it?" + +"Yes. It's back there in the straw. Didn't you notice the box +I was carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, +and it worked ever so well, makes fine big pictures." + +"What are they about?" + +"Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny +pictures about cannibals. I'm going to paint some slides for it +on glass, out of the Hans Andersen book." + +Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of +the child left in people who have had to grow up too soon. "Do +bring it over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I'm sure it +will please father. Are the pictures colored? Then I know he'll +like them. He likes the calendars I get him in town. I wish I +could get more. You must leave me here, mustn't you? It's been +nice to have company." + +Carl stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. +"It's pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but +I think I'd better light your lantern, in case you should need it." + +He gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where +he crouched down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen +trials he succeeded in lighting the lantern, which he placed in +front of Alexandra, half covering it with a blanket so that the +light would not shine in her eyes. "Now, wait until I find my box. +Yes, here it is. Good-night, Alexandra. Try not to worry." Carl +sprang to the ground and ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum +homestead. "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!" he called back as he disappeared over +a ridge and dropped into a sand gully. The wind answered him like +an echo, "Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!" Alexandra drove off alone. The +rattle of her wagon was lost in the howling of the wind, but her +lantern, held firmly between her feet, made a moving point of light +along the highway, going deeper and deeper into the dark country. + + + +II + + +On one of the ridges of that wintry waste stood the low log house +in which John Bergson was dying. The Bergson homestead was easier +to find than many another, because it overlooked Norway Creek, a +shallow, muddy stream that sometimes flowed, and sometimes stood +still, at the bottom of a winding ravine with steep, shelving sides +overgrown with brush and cottonwoods and dwarf ash. This creek +gave a sort of identity to the farms that bordered upon it. Of all +the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human +landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening. The +houses on the Divide were small and were usually tucked away +in low places; you did not see them until you came directly upon +them. Most of them were built of the sod itself, and were only +the unescapable ground in another form. The roads were but faint +tracks in the grass, and the fields were scarcely noticeable. The +record of the plow was insignificant, like the feeble scratches on +stone left by prehistoric races, so indeterminate that they may, +after all, be only the markings of glaciers, and not a record of +human strivings. + +In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression +upon the wild land he had come to tame. It was still a wild thing +that had its ugly moods; and no one knew when they were likely to +come, or why. Mischance hung over it. Its Genius was unfriendly +to man. The sick man was feeling this as he lay looking out of +the window, after the doctor had left him, on the day following +Alexandra's trip to town. There it lay outside his door, the same +land, the same lead-colored miles. He knew every ridge and draw +and gully between him and the horizon. To the south, his plowed +fields; to the east, the sod stables, the cattle corral, the +pond,--and then the grass. + +Bergson went over in his mind the things that had held him back. +One winter his cattle had perished in a blizzard. The next summer +one of his plow horses broke its leg in a prairiedog hole and had +to be shot. Another summer he lost his hogs from cholera, and +a valuable stallion died from a rattlesnake bite. Time and again +his crops had failed. He had lost two children, boys, that came +between Lou and Emil, and there had been the cost of sickness and +death. Now, when he had at last struggled out of debt, he was +going to die himself. He was only forty-six, and had, of course, +counted upon more time. + +Bergson had spent his first five years on the Divide getting into +debt, and the last six getting out. He had paid off his mortgages +and had ended pretty much where he began, with the land. He owned +exactly six hundred and forty acres of what stretched outside his +door; his own original homestead and timber claim, making three +hundred and twenty acres, and the half-section adjoining, the +homestead of a younger brother who had given up the fight, gone +back to Chicago to work in a fancy bakery and distinguish himself +in a Swedish athletic club. So far John had not attempted to +cultivate the second half-section, but used it for pasture land, +and one of his sons rode herd there in open weather. + +John Bergson had the Old-World belief that land, in itself, is +desirable. But this land was an enigma. It was like a horse that +no one knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks +things to pieces. He had an idea that no one understood how to +farm it properly, and this he often discussed with Alexandra. Their +neighbors, certainly, knew even less about farming than he did. +Many of them had never worked on a farm until they took up their +homesteads. They had been HANDWERKERS at home; tailors, locksmiths, +joiners, cigar-makers, etc. Bergson himself had worked in a +shipyard. + +For weeks, John Bergson had been thinking about these things. His +bed stood in the sitting-room, next to the kitchen. Through the +day, while the baking and washing and ironing were going on, the +father lay and looked up at the roof beams that he himself had +hewn, or out at the cattle in the corral. He counted the cattle +over and over. It diverted him to speculate as to how much weight +each of the steers would probably put on by spring. He often called +his daughter in to talk to her about this. Before Alexandra was +twelve years old she had begun to be a help to him, and as she grew +older he had come to depend more and more upon her resourcefulness +and good judgment. His boys were willing enough to work, but when +he talked with them they usually irritated him. It was Alexandra +who read the papers and followed the markets, and who learned by +the mistakes of their neighbors. It was Alexandra who could always +tell about what it had cost to fatten each steer, and who could +guess the weight of a hog before it went on the scales closer than +John Bergson himself. Lou and Oscar were industrious, but he could +never teach them to use their heads about their work. + +Alexandra, her father often said to himself, was like her +grandfather; which was his way of saying that she was intelligent. +John Bergson's father had been a shipbuilder, a man of considerable +force and of some fortune. Late in life he married a second time, +a Stockholm woman of questionable character, much younger than he, +who goaded him into every sort of extravagance. On the shipbuilder's +part, this marriage was an infatuation, the despairing folly of +a powerful man who cannot bear to grow old. In a few years his +unprincipled wife warped the probity of a lifetime. He speculated, +lost his own fortune and funds entrusted to him by poor seafaring +men, and died disgraced, leaving his children nothing. But when all +was said, he had come up from the sea himself, had built up a proud +little business with no capital but his own skill and foresight, and +had proved himself a man. In his daughter, John Bergson recognized +the strength of will, and the simple direct way of thinking things +out, that had characterized his father in his better days. He +would much rather, of course, have seen this likeness in one of +his sons, but it was not a question of choice. As he lay there +day after day he had to accept the situation as it was, and to be +thankful that there was one among his children to whom he could +entrust the future of his family and the possibilities of his +hard-won land. + +The winter twilight was fading. The sick man heard his wife strike +a match in the kitchen, and the light of a lamp glimmered through +the cracks of the door. It seemed like a light shining far away. +He turned painfully in his bed and looked at his white hands, with +all the work gone out of them. He was ready to give up, he felt. +He did not know how it had come about, but he was quite willing to +go deep under his fields and rest, where the plow could not find +him. He was tired of making mistakes. He was content to leave the +tangle to other hands; he thought of his Alexandra's strong ones. + +"DOTTER," he called feebly, "DOTTER!" He heard her quick step and +saw her tall figure appear in the doorway, with the light of the +lamp behind her. He felt her youth and strength, how easily she +moved and stooped and lifted. But he would not have had it again +if he could, not he! He knew the end too well to wish to begin +again. He knew where it all went to, what it all became. + +His daughter came and lifted him up on his pillows. She called +him by an old Swedish name that she used to call him when she was +little and took his dinner to him in the shipyard. + +"Tell the boys to come here, daughter. I want to speak to them." + +"They are feeding the horses, father. They have just come back +from the Blue. Shall I call them?" + +He sighed. "No, no. Wait until they come in. Alexandra, you will +have to do the best you can for your brothers. Everything will +come on you." + +"I will do all I can, father." + +"Don't let them get discouraged and go off like Uncle Otto. I want +them to keep the land." + +"We will, father. We will never lose the land." + +There was a sound of heavy feet in the kitchen. Alexandra went +to the door and beckoned to her brothers, two strapping boys of +seventeen and nineteen. They came in and stood at the foot of the +bed. Their father looked at them searchingly, though it was too +dark to see their faces; they were just the same boys, he told +himself, he had not been mistaken in them. The square head and +heavy shoulders belonged to Oscar, the elder. The younger boy was +quicker, but vacillating. + +"Boys," said the father wearily, "I want you to keep the land +together and to be guided by your sister. I have talked to her +since I have been sick, and she knows all my wishes. I want no +quarrels among my children, and so long as there is one house there +must be one head. Alexandra is the oldest, and she knows my wishes. +She will do the best she can. If she makes mistakes, she will not +make so many as I have made. When you marry, and want a house of +your own, the land will be divided fairly, according to the courts. +But for the next few years you will have it hard, and you must all +keep together. Alexandra will manage the best she can." + +Oscar, who was usually the last to speak, replied because he +was the older, "Yes, father. It would be so anyway, without your +speaking. We will all work the place together." + +"And you will be guided by your sister, boys, and be good brothers +to her, and good sons to your mother? That is good. And Alexandra +must not work in the fields any more. There is no necessity now. +Hire a man when you need help. She can make much more with her +eggs and butter than the wages of a man. It was one of my mistakes +that I did not find that out sooner. Try to break a little more +land every year; sod corn is good for fodder. Keep turning the +land, and always put up more hay than you need. Don't grudge your +mother a little time for plowing her garden and setting out fruit +trees, even if it comes in a busy season. She has been a good +mother to you, and she has always missed the old country." + +When they went back to the kitchen the boys sat down silently at +the table. Throughout the meal they looked down at their plates +and did not lift their red eyes. They did not eat much, although +they had been working in the cold all day, and there was a rabbit +stewed in gravy for supper, and prune pies. + +John Bergson had married beneath him, but he had married a good +housewife. Mrs. Bergson was a fair-skinned, corpulent woman, heavy +and placid like her son, Oscar, but there was something comfortable +about her; perhaps it was her own love of comfort. For eleven years +she had worthily striven to maintain some semblance of household +order amid conditions that made order very difficult. Habit +was very strong with Mrs. Bergson, and her unremitting efforts to +repeat the routine of her old life among new surroundings had done +a great deal to keep the family from disintegrating morally and +getting careless in their ways. The Bergsons had a log house, for +instance, only because Mrs. Bergson would not live in a sod house. +She missed the fish diet of her own country, and twice every summer +she sent the boys to the river, twenty miles to the southward, to +fish for channel cat. When the children were little she used to +load them all into the wagon, the baby in its crib, and go fishing +herself. + +Alexandra often said that if her mother were cast upon a desert +island, she would thank God for her deliverance, make a garden, +and find something to preserve. Preserving was almost a mania with +Mrs. Bergson. Stout as she was, she roamed the scrubby banks of +Norway Creek looking for fox grapes and goose plums, like a wild +creature in search of prey. She made a yellow jam of the insipid +ground-cherries that grew on the prairie, flavoring it with lemon +peel; and she made a sticky dark conserve of garden tomatoes. She +had experimented even with the rank buffalo-pea, and she could +not see a fine bronze cluster of them without shaking her head and +murmuring, "What a pity!" When there was nothing more to preserve, +she began to pickle. The amount of sugar she used in these processes +was sometimes a serious drain upon the family resources. She was +a good mother, but she was glad when her children were old enough +not to be in her way in the kitchen. She had never quite forgiven +John Bergson for bringing her to the end of the earth; but, now +that she was there, she wanted to be let alone to reconstruct her +old life in so far as that was possible. She could still take some +comfort in the world if she had bacon in the cave, glass jars on +the shelves, and sheets in the press. She disapproved of all her +neighbors because of their slovenly housekeeping, and the women +thought her very proud. Once when Mrs. Bergson, on her way to +Norway Creek, stopped to see old Mrs. Lee, the old woman hid in +the haymow "for fear Mis' Bergson would catch her barefoot." + + + +III + + +One Sunday afternoon in July, six months after John Bergson's death, +Carl was sitting in the doorway of the Linstrum kitchen, dreaming +over an illustrated paper, when he heard the rattle of a wagon along +the hill road. Looking up he recognized the Bergsons' team, with +two seats in the wagon, which meant they were off for a pleasure +excursion. Oscar and Lou, on the front seat, wore their cloth hats +and coats, never worn except on Sundays, and Emil, on the second +seat with Alexandra, sat proudly in his new trousers, made from a +pair of his father's, and a pink-striped shirt, with a wide ruffled +collar. Oscar stopped the horses and waved to Carl, who caught up +his hat and ran through the melon patch to join them. + +"Want to go with us?" Lou called. "We're going to Crazy Ivar's to +buy a hammock." + +"Sure." Carl ran up panting, and clambering over the wheel sat +down beside Emil. "I've always wanted to see Ivar's pond. They +say it's the biggest in all the country. Aren't you afraid to go +to Ivar's in that new shirt, Emil? He might want it and take it +right off your back." + +Emil grinned. "I'd be awful scared to go," he admitted, "if you +big boys weren't along to take care of me. Did you ever hear him +howl, Carl? People say sometimes he runs about the country howling +at night because he is afraid the Lord will destroy him. Mother +thinks he must have done something awful wicked." + +Lou looked back and winked at Carl. "What would you do, Emil, if +you was out on the prairie by yourself and seen him coming?" + +Emil stared. "Maybe I could hide in a badger-hole," he suggested +doubtfully. + +"But suppose there wasn't any badger-hole," Lou persisted. "Would +you run?" + +"No, I'd be too scared to run," Emil admitted mournfully, twisting +his fingers. "I guess I'd sit right down on the ground and say my +prayers." + +The big boys laughed, and Oscar brandished his whip over the broad +backs of the horses. + +"He wouldn't hurt you, Emil," said Carl persuasively. "He came +to doctor our mare when she ate green corn and swelled up most as +big as the water-tank. He petted her just like you do your cats. +I couldn't understand much he said, for he don't talk any English, +but he kept patting her and groaning as if he had the pain himself, +and saying, 'There now, sister, that's easier, that's better!'" + +Lou and Oscar laughed, and Emil giggled delightedly and looked up +at his sister. + +"I don't think he knows anything at all about doctoring," said +Oscar scornfully. "They say when horses have distemper he takes +the medicine himself, and then prays over the horses." + +Alexandra spoke up. "That's what the Crows said, but he cured +their horses, all the same. Some days his mind is cloudy, like. +But if you can get him on a clear day, you can learn a great deal +from him. He understands animals. Didn't I see him take the horn +off the Berquist's cow when she had torn it loose and went crazy? +She was tearing all over the place, knocking herself against things. +And at last she ran out on the roof of the old dugout and her legs +went through and there she stuck, bellowing. Ivar came running +with his white bag, and the moment he got to her she was quiet and +let him saw her horn off and daub the place with tar." + +Emil had been watching his sister, his face reflecting the sufferings +of the cow. "And then didn't it hurt her any more?" he asked. + +Alexandra patted him. "No, not any more. And in two days they +could use her milk again." + +The road to Ivar's homestead was a very poor one. He had settled +in the rough country across the county line, where no one lived but +some Russians,--half a dozen families who dwelt together in one long +house, divided off like barracks. Ivar had explained his choice +by saying that the fewer neighbors he had, the fewer temptations. +Nevertheless, when one considered that his chief business was +horsedoctoring, it seemed rather short-sighted of him to live in the +most inaccessible place he could find. The Bergson wagon lurched +along over the rough hummocks and grass banks, followed the bottom +of winding draws, or skirted the margin of wide lagoons, where the +golden coreopsis grew up out of the clear water and the wild ducks +rose with a whirr of wings. + +Lou looked after them helplessly. "I wish I'd brought my gun, +anyway, Alexandra," he said fretfully. "I could have hidden it +under the straw in the bottom of the wagon." + +"Then we'd have had to lie to Ivar. Besides, they say he can smell +dead birds. And if he knew, we wouldn't get anything out of him, +not even a hammock. I want to talk to him, and he won't talk sense +if he's angry. It makes him foolish." + +Lou sniffed. "Whoever heard of him talking sense, anyhow! I'd +rather have ducks for supper than Crazy Ivar's tongue." + +Emil was alarmed. "Oh, but, Lou, you don't want to make him mad! +He might howl!" + +They all laughed again, and Oscar urged the horses up the crumbling +side of a clay bank. They had left the lagoons and the red grass +behind them. In Crazy Ivar's country the grass was short and gray, +the draws deeper than they were in the Bergsons' neighborhood, +and the land was all broken up into hillocks and clay ridges. The +wild flowers disappeared, and only in the bottom of the draws and +gullies grew a few of the very toughest and hardiest: shoestring, +and ironweed, and snow-on-the-mountain. + +"Look, look, Emil, there's Ivar's big pond!" Alexandra pointed to +a shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. +At one end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow +bushes, and above it a door and a single window were set into the +hillside. You would not have seen them at all but for the reflection +of the sunlight upon the four panes of window-glass. And that was +all you saw. Not a shed, not a corral, not a well, not even a path +broken in the curly grass. But for the piece of rusty stovepipe +sticking up through the sod, you could have walked over the roof +of Ivar's dwelling without dreaming that you were near a human +habitation. Ivar had lived for three years in the clay bank, +without defiling the face of nature any more than the coyote that +had lived there before him had done. + +When the Bergsons drove over the hill, Ivar was sitting in the +doorway of his house, reading the Norwegian Bible. He was a queerly +shaped old man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs. +His shaggy white hair, falling in a thick mane about his ruddy +cheeks, made him look older than he was. He was barefoot, but +he wore a clean shirt of unbleached cotton, open at the neck. He +always put on a clean shirt when Sunday morning came round, though +he never went to church. He had a peculiar religion of his own +and could not get on with any of the denominations. Often he did +not see anybody from one week's end to another. He kept a calendar, +and every morning he checked off a day, so that he was never in +any doubt as to which day of the week it was. Ivar hired himself +out in threshing and corn-husking time, and he doctored sick animals +when he was sent for. When he was at home, he made hammocks out +of twine and committed chapters of the Bible to memory. + +Ivar found contentment in the solitude he had sought out for himself. +He disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the +bits of broken china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown +into the sunflower patch. He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of +the wild sod. He always said that the badgers had cleaner houses +than people, and that when he took a housekeeper her name would +be Mrs. Badger. He best expressed his preference for his wild +homestead by saying that his Bible seemed truer to him there. If +one stood in the doorway of his cave, and looked off at the rough +land, the smiling sky, the curly grass white in the hot sunlight; +if one listened to the rapturous song of the lark, the drumming of +the quail, the burr of the locust against that vast silence, one +understood what Ivar meant. + +On this Sunday afternoon his face shone with happiness. He closed +the book on his knee, keeping the place with his horny finger, and +repeated softly:-- + +He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills; + +They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench +their thirst. + +The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which +he hath planted; + +Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees +are her house. + +The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for +the conies. + +Before he opened his Bible again, Ivar heard the Bergsons' wagon +approaching, and he sprang up and ran toward it. + +"No guns, no guns!" he shouted, waving his arms distractedly. + +"No, Ivar, no guns," Alexandra called reassuringly. + +He dropped his arms and went up to the wagon, smiling amiably and +looking at them out of his pale blue eyes. + +"We want to buy a hammock, if you have one," Alexandra explained, +"and my little brother, here, wants to see your big pond, where so +many birds come." + +Ivar smiled foolishly, and began rubbing the horses' noses and +feeling about their mouths behind the bits. "Not many birds just +now. A few ducks this morning; and some snipe come to drink. But +there was a crane last week. She spent one night and came back the +next evening. I don't know why. It is not her season, of course. +Many of them go over in the fall. Then the pond is full of strange +voices every night." + +Alexandra translated for Carl, who looked thoughtful. "Ask him, +Alexandra, if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have +heard so." + +She had some difficulty in making the old man understand. + +He looked puzzled at first, then smote his hands together as he +remembered. "Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and +pink feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in the afternoon +and kept flying about the pond and screaming until dark. She was +in trouble of some sort, but I could not understand her. She was +going over to the other ocean, maybe, and did not know how far it +was. She was afraid of never getting there. She was more mournful +than our birds here; she cried in the night. She saw the light +from my window and darted up to it. Maybe she thought my house +was a boat, she was such a wild thing. Next morning, when the sun +rose, I went out to take her food, but she flew up into the sky +and went on her way." Ivar ran his fingers through his thick hair. +"I have many strange birds stop with me here. They come from very +far away and are great company. I hope you boys never shoot wild +birds?" + +Lou and Oscar grinned, and Ivar shook his bushy head. "Yes, I know +boys are thoughtless. But these wild things are God's birds. He +watches over them and counts them, as we do our cattle; Christ says +so in the New Testament." + +"Now, Ivar," Lou asked, "may we water our horses at your pond and +give them some feed? It's a bad road to your place." + +"Yes, yes, it is." The old man scrambled about and began to loose +the tugs. "A bad road, eh, girls? And the bay with a colt at +home!" + +Oscar brushed the old man aside. "We'll take care of the horses, +Ivar. You'll be finding some disease on them. Alexandra wants to +see your hammocks." + +Ivar led Alexandra and Emil to his little cave house. He had but +one room, neatly plastered and whitewashed, and there was a wooden +floor. There was a kitchen stove, a table covered with oilcloth, +two chairs, a clock, a calendar, a few books on the window-shelf; +nothing more. But the place was as clean as a cupboard. + +"But where do you sleep, Ivar?" Emil asked, looking about. + +Ivar unslung a hammock from a hook on the wall; in it was rolled +a buffalo robe. "There, my son. A hammock is a good bed, and in +winter I wrap up in this skin. Where I go to work, the beds are +not half so easy as this." + +By this time Emil had lost all his timidity. He thought a cave a +very superior kind of house. There was something pleasantly unusual +about it and about Ivar. "Do the birds know you will be kind to +them, Ivar? Is that why so many come?" he asked. + +Ivar sat down on the floor and tucked his feet under him. "See, +little brother, they have come from a long way, and they are very +tired. From up there where they are flying, our country looks dark +and flat. They must have water to drink and to bathe in before +they can go on with their journey. They look this way and that, +and far below them they see something shining, like a piece of glass +set in the dark earth. That is my pond. They come to it and are +not disturbed. Maybe I sprinkle a little corn. They tell the other +birds, and next year more come this way. They have their roads up +there, as we have down here." + +Emil rubbed his knees thoughtfully. "And is that true, Ivar, about +the head ducks falling back when they are tired, and the hind ones +taking their place?" + +"Yes. The point of the wedge gets the worst of it; they cut the +wind. They can only stand it there a little while--half an hour, +maybe. Then they fall back and the wedge splits a little, while +the rear ones come up the middle to the front. Then it closes up +and they fly on, with a new edge. They are always changing like +that, up in the air. Never any confusion; just like soldiers who +have been drilled." + +Alexandra had selected her hammock by the time the boys came up +from the pond. They would not come in, but sat in the shade of +the bank outside while Alexandra and Ivar talked about the birds +and about his housekeeping, and why he never ate meat, fresh or +salt. + +Alexandra was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, her arms resting +on the table. Ivar was sitting on the floor at her feet. "Ivar," +she said suddenly, beginning to trace the pattern on the oilcloth +with her forefinger, "I came to-day more because I wanted to talk +to you than because I wanted to buy a hammock." + +"Yes?" The old man scraped his bare feet on the plank floor. + +"We have a big bunch of hogs, Ivar. I wouldn't sell in the spring, +when everybody advised me to, and now so many people are losing +their hogs that I am frightened. What can be done?" + +Ivar's little eyes began to shine. They lost their vagueness. + +"You feed them swill and such stuff? Of course! And sour milk? +Oh, yes! And keep them in a stinking pen? I tell you, sister, +the hogs of this country are put upon! They become unclean, like +the hogs in the Bible. If you kept your chickens like that, what +would happen? You have a little sorghum patch, maybe? Put a fence +around it, and turn the hogs in. Build a shed to give them shade, +a thatch on poles. Let the boys haul water to them in barrels, +clean water, and plenty. Get them off the old stinking ground, and +do not let them go back there until winter. Give them only grain +and clean feed, such as you would give horses or cattle. Hogs do +not like to be filthy." + +The boys outside the door had been listening. Lou nudged his +brother. "Come, the horses are done eating. Let's hitch up and +get out of here. He'll fill her full of notions. She'll be for +having the pigs sleep with us, next." + +Oscar grunted and got up. Carl, who could not understand what Ivar +said, saw that the two boys were displeased. They did not mind +hard work, but they hated experiments and could never see the use +of taking pains. Even Lou, who was more elastic than his older +brother, disliked to do anything different from their neighbors. +He felt that it made them conspicuous and gave people a chance to +talk about them. + +Once they were on the homeward road, the boys forgot their ill-humor +and joked about Ivar and his birds. Alexandra did not propose any +reforms in the care of the pigs, and they hoped she had forgotten +Ivar's talk. They agreed that he was crazier than ever, and would +never be able to prove up on his land because he worked it so little. +Alexandra privately resolved that she would have a talk with Ivar +about this and stir him up. The boys persuaded Carl to stay for +supper and go swimming in the pasture pond after dark. + +That evening, after she had washed the supper dishes, Alexandra +sat down on the kitchen doorstep, while her mother was mixing the +bread. It was a still, deep-breathing summer night, full of the +smell of the hay fields. Sounds of laughter and splashing came +up from the pasture, and when the moon rose rapidly above the bare +rim of the prairie, the pond glittered like polished metal, and +she could see the flash of white bodies as the boys ran about the +edge, or jumped into the water. Alexandra watched the shimmering +pool dreamily, but eventually her eyes went back to the sorghum +patch south of the barn, where she was planning to make her new +pig corral. + + + +IV + + +For the first three years after John Bergson's death, the affairs +of his family prospered. Then came the hard times that brought +every one on the Divide to the brink of despair; three years of +drouth and failure, the last struggle of a wild soil against the +encroaching plowshare. The first of these fruitless summers the +Bergson boys bore courageously. The failure of the corn crop made +labor cheap. Lou and Oscar hired two men and put in bigger crops +than ever before. They lost everything they spent. The whole +country was discouraged. Farmers who were already in debt had to +give up their land. A few foreclosures demoralized the county. +The settlers sat about on the wooden sidewalks in the little town +and told each other that the country was never meant for men to live +in; the thing to do was to get back to Iowa, to Illinois, to any +place that had been proved habitable. The Bergson boys, certainly, +would have been happier with their uncle Otto, in the bakery shop +in Chicago. Like most of their neighbors, they were meant to follow +in paths already marked out for them, not to break trails in a new +country. A steady job, a few holidays, nothing to think about, and +they would have been very happy. It was no fault of theirs that +they had been dragged into the wilderness when they were little +boys. A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy +the idea of things more than the things themselves. + +The second of these barren summers was passing. One September +afternoon Alexandra had gone over to the garden across the draw to +dig sweet potatoes--they had been thriving upon the weather that +was fatal to everything else. But when Carl Linstrum came up the +garden rows to find her, she was not working. She was standing +lost in thought, leaning upon her pitchfork, her sunbonnet lying +beside her on the ground. The dry garden patch smelled of drying +vines and was strewn with yellow seed-cucumbers and pumpkins and +citrons. At one end, next the rhubarb, grew feathery asparagus, +with red berries. Down the middle of the garden was a row of +gooseberry and currant bushes. A few tough zenias and marigolds +and a row of scarlet sage bore witness to the buckets of water +that Mrs. Bergson had carried there after sundown, against the +prohibition of her sons. Carl came quietly and slowly up the garden +path, looking intently at Alexandra. She did not hear him. She was +standing perfectly still, with that serious ease so characteristic +of her. Her thick, reddish braids, twisted about her head, fairly +burned in the sunlight. The air was cool enough to make the warm +sun pleasant on one's back and shoulders, and so clear that the +eye could follow a hawk up and up, into the blazing blue depths of +the sky. Even Carl, never a very cheerful boy, and considerably +darkened by these last two bitter years, loved the country on days +like this, felt something strong and young and wild come out of +it, that laughed at care. + +"Alexandra," he said as he approached her, "I want to talk to you. +Let's sit down by the gooseberry bushes." He picked up her sack +of potatoes and they crossed the garden. "Boys gone to town?" he +asked as he sank down on the warm, sun-baked earth. "Well, we have +made up our minds at last, Alexandra. We are really going away." + +She looked at him as if she were a little frightened. "Really, +Carl? Is it settled?" + +"Yes, father has heard from St. Louis, and they will give him back +his old job in the cigar factory. He must be there by the first +of November. They are taking on new men then. We will sell the +place for whatever we can get, and auction the stock. We haven't +enough to ship. I am going to learn engraving with a German engraver +there, and then try to get work in Chicago." + +Alexandra's hands dropped in her lap. Her eyes became dreamy and +filled with tears. + +Carl's sensitive lower lip trembled. He scratched in the soft earth +beside him with a stick. "That's all I hate about it, Alexandra," +he said slowly. "You've stood by us through so much and helped +father out so many times, and now it seems as if we were running +off and leaving you to face the worst of it. But it isn't as if +we could really ever be of any help to you. We are only one more +drag, one more thing you look out for and feel responsible for. +Father was never meant for a farmer, you know that. And I hate +it. We'd only get in deeper and deeper." + +"Yes, yes, Carl, I know. You are wasting your life here. You are +able to do much better things. You are nearly nineteen now, and +I wouldn't have you stay. I've always hoped you would get away. +But I can't help feeling scared when I think how I will miss +you--more than you will ever know." She brushed the tears from her +cheeks, not trying to hide them. + +"But, Alexandra," he said sadly and wistfully, "I've never been +any real help to you, beyond sometimes trying to keep the boys in +a good humor." + +Alexandra smiled and shook her head. "Oh, it's not that. Nothing +like that. It's by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, +that you've helped me. I expect that is the only way one person +ever really can help another. I think you are about the only one +that ever helped me. Somehow it will take more courage to bear +your going than everything that has happened before." + +Carl looked at the ground. "You see, we've all depended so on you," +he said, "even father. He makes me laugh. When anything comes up +he always says, 'I wonder what the Bergsons are going to do about +that? I guess I'll go and ask her.' I'll never forget that time, +when we first came here, and our horse had the colic, and I ran +over to your place--your father was away, and you came home with me +and showed father how to let the wind out of the horse. You were +only a little girl then, but you knew ever so much more about farm +work than poor father. You remember how homesick I used to get, +and what long talks we used to have coming from school? We've +someway always felt alike about things." + +"Yes, that's it; we've liked the same things and we've liked them +together, without anybody else knowing. And we've had good times, +hunting for Christmas trees and going for ducks and making our plum +wine together every year. We've never either of us had any other +close friend. And now--" Alexandra wiped her eyes with the corner +of her apron, "and now I must remember that you are going where +you will have many friends, and will find the work you were meant +to do. But you'll write to me, Carl? That will mean a great deal +to me here." + +"I'll write as long as I live," cried the boy impetuously. "And +I'll be working for you as much as for myself, Alexandra. I want +to do something you'll like and be proud of. I'm a fool here, but +I know I can do something!" He sat up and frowned at the red grass. + +Alexandra sighed. "How discouraged the boys will be when they +hear. They always come home from town discouraged, anyway. So +many people are trying to leave the country, and they talk to our +boys and make them low-spirited. I'm afraid they are beginning to +feel hard toward me because I won't listen to any talk about going. +Sometimes I feel like I'm getting tired of standing up for this +country." + +"I won't tell the boys yet, if you'd rather not." + +"Oh, I'll tell them myself, to-night, when they come home. They'll +be talking wild, anyway, and no good comes of keeping bad news. +It's all harder on them than it is on me. Lou wants to get married, +poor boy, and he can't until times are better. See, there goes the +sun, Carl. I must be getting back. Mother will want her potatoes. +It's chilly already, the moment the light goes." + +Alexandra rose and looked about. A golden afterglow throbbed in +the west, but the country already looked empty and mournful. A dark +moving mass came over the western hill, the Lee boy was bringing in +the herd from the other half-section. Emil ran from the windmill +to open the corral gate. From the log house, on the little rise +across the draw, the smoke was curling. The cattle lowed and +bellowed. In the sky the pale half-moon was slowly silvering. +Alexandra and Carl walked together down the potato rows. "I have +to keep telling myself what is going to happen," she said softly. +"Since you have been here, ten years now, I have never really been +lonely. But I can remember what it was like before. Now I shall +have nobody but Emil. But he is my boy, and he is tender-hearted." + +That night, when the boys were called to supper, they sat down +moodily. They had worn their coats to town, but they ate in their +striped shirts and suspenders. They were grown men now, and, as +Alexandra said, for the last few years they had been growing more +and more like themselves. Lou was still the slighter of the two, +the quicker and more intelligent, but apt to go off at half-cock. +He had a lively blue eye, a thin, fair skin (always burned red to +the neckband of his shirt in summer), stiff, yellow hair that would +not lie down on his head, and a bristly little yellow mustache, +of which he was very proud. Oscar could not grow a mustache; his +pale face was as bare as an egg, and his white eyebrows gave it an +empty look. He was a man of powerful body and unusual endurance; +the sort of man you could attach to a corn-sheller as you would +an engine. He would turn it all day, without hurrying, without +slowing down. But he was as indolent of mind as he was unsparing +of his body. His love of routine amounted to a vice. He worked +like an insect, always doing the same thing over in the same way, +regardless of whether it was best or no. He felt that there was +a sovereign virtue in mere bodily toil, and he rather liked to +do things in the hardest way. If a field had once been in corn, +he couldn't bear to put it into wheat. He liked to begin his +corn-planting at the same time every year, whether the season were +backward or forward. He seemed to feel that by his own irreproachable +regularity he would clear himself of blame and reprove the weather. +When the wheat crop failed, he threshed the straw at a dead loss +to demonstrate how little grain there was, and thus prove his case +against Providence. + +Lou, on the other hand, was fussy and flighty; always planned to +get through two days' work in one, and often got only the least +important things done. He liked to keep the place up, but he never +got round to doing odd jobs until he had to neglect more pressing +work to attend to them. In the middle of the wheat harvest, when +the grain was over-ripe and every hand was needed, he would stop +to mend fences or to patch the harness; then dash down to the +field and overwork and be laid up in bed for a week. The two boys +balanced each other, and they pulled well together. They had been +good friends since they were children. One seldom went anywhere, +even to town, without the other. + +To-night, after they sat down to supper, Oscar kept looking at Lou +as if he expected him to say something, and Lou blinked his eyes +and frowned at his plate. It was Alexandra herself who at last +opened the discussion. + +"The Linstrums," she said calmly, as she put another plate of hot +biscuit on the table, "are going back to St. Louis. The old man +is going to work in the cigar factory again." + +At this Lou plunged in. "You see, Alexandra, everybody who can +crawl out is going away. There's no use of us trying to stick it +out, just to be stubborn. There's something in knowing when to +quit." + +"Where do you want to go, Lou?" + +"Any place where things will grow," said Oscar grimly. + +Lou reached for a potato. "Chris Arnson has traded his half-section +for a place down on the river." + +"Who did he trade with?" + +"Charley Fuller, in town." + +"Fuller the real estate man? You see, Lou, that Fuller has a head +on him. He's buying and trading for every bit of land he can get +up here. It'll make him a rich man, some day." + +"He's rich now, that's why he can take a chance." + +"Why can't we? We'll live longer than he will. Some day the land +itself will be worth more than all we can ever raise on it." + +Lou laughed. "It could be worth that, and still not be worth +much. Why, Alexandra, you don't know what you're talking about. +Our place wouldn't bring now what it would six years ago. The +fellows that settled up here just made a mistake. Now they're +beginning to see this high land wasn't never meant to grow nothing +on, and everybody who ain't fixed to graze cattle is trying to +crawl out. It's too high to farm up here. All the Americans are +skinning out. That man Percy Adams, north of town, told me that +he was going to let Fuller take his land and stuff for four hundred +dollars and a ticket to Chicago." + +"There's Fuller again!" Alexandra exclaimed. "I wish that man +would take me for a partner. He's feathering his nest! If only +poor people could learn a little from rich people! But all these +fellows who are running off are bad farmers, like poor Mr. Linstrum. +They couldn't get ahead even in good years, and they all got into +debt while father was getting out. I think we ought to hold on as +long as we can on father's account. He was so set on keeping this +land. He must have seen harder times than this, here. How was it +in the early days, mother?" + +Mrs. Bergson was weeping quietly. These family discussions always +depressed her, and made her remember all that she had been torn +away from. "I don't see why the boys are always taking on about +going away," she said, wiping her eyes. "I don't want to move +again; out to some raw place, maybe, where we'd be worse off than +we are here, and all to do over again. I won't move! If the rest +of you go, I will ask some of the neighbors to take me in, and stay +and be buried by father. I'm not going to leave him by himself +on the prairie, for cattle to run over." She began to cry more +bitterly. + +The boys looked angry. Alexandra put a soothing hand on her mother's +shoulder. "There's no question of that, mother. You don't have +to go if you don't want to. A third of the place belongs to you +by American law, and we can't sell without your consent. We only +want you to advise us. How did it use to be when you and father +first came? Was it really as bad as this, or not?" + +"Oh, worse! Much worse," moaned Mrs. Bergson. "Drouth, chince-bugs, +hail, everything! My garden all cut to pieces like sauerkraut. No +grapes on the creek, no nothing. The people all lived just like +coyotes." + +Oscar got up and tramped out of the kitchen. Lou followed him. +They felt that Alexandra had taken an unfair advantage in turning +their mother loose on them. The next morning they were silent and +reserved. They did not offer to take the women to church, but went +down to the barn immediately after breakfast and stayed there all +day. When Carl Linstrum came over in the afternoon, Alexandra +winked to him and pointed toward the barn. He understood her and +went down to play cards with the boys. They believed that a very +wicked thing to do on Sunday, and it relieved their feelings. + +Alexandra stayed in the house. On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Bergson +always took a nap, and Alexandra read. During the week she read +only the newspaper, but on Sunday, and in the long evenings of +winter, she read a good deal; read a few things over a great many +times. She knew long portions of the "Frithjof Saga" by heart, +and, like most Swedes who read at all, she was fond of Longfellow's +verse,--the ballads and the "Golden Legend" and "The Spanish Student." +To-day she sat in the wooden rocking-chair with the Swedish Bible +open on her knees, but she was not reading. She was looking +thoughtfully away at the point where the upland road disappeared +over the rim of the prairie. Her body was in an attitude of perfect +repose, such as it was apt to take when she was thinking earnestly. +Her mind was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not the least +spark of cleverness. + +All afternoon the sitting-room was full of quiet and sunlight. +Emil was making rabbit traps in the kitchen shed. The hens were +clucking and scratching brown holes in the flower beds, and the +wind was teasing the prince's feather by the door. + +That evening Carl came in with the boys to supper. + +"Emil," said Alexandra, when they were all seated at the table, +"how would you like to go traveling? Because I am going to take +a trip, and you can go with me if you want to." + +The boys looked up in amazement; they were always afraid of +Alexandra's schemes. Carl was interested. + +"I've been thinking, boys," she went on, "that maybe I am too set +against making a change. I'm going to take Brigham and the buckboard +to-morrow and drive down to the river country and spend a few days +looking over what they've got down there. If I find anything good, +you boys can go down and make a trade." + +"Nobody down there will trade for anything up here," said Oscar +gloomily. + +"That's just what I want to find out. Maybe they are just as +discontented down there as we are up here. Things away from home +often look better than they are. You know what your Hans Andersen +book says, Carl, about the Swedes liking to buy Danish bread and +the Danes liking to buy Swedish bread, because people always think +the bread of another country is better than their own. Anyway, +I've heard so much about the river farms, I won't be satisfied till +I've seen for myself." + +Lou fidgeted. "Look out! Don't agree to anything. Don't let them +fool you." + +Lou was apt to be fooled himself. He had not yet learned to keep +away from the shell-game wagons that followed the circus. + +After supper Lou put on a necktie and went across the fields to +court Annie Lee, and Carl and Oscar sat down to a game of checkers, +while Alexandra read "The Swiss Family Robinson" aloud to her mother +and Emil. It was not long before the two boys at the table neglected +their game to listen. They were all big children together, and they +found the adventures of the family in the tree house so absorbing +that they gave them their undivided attention. + + + +V + + +Alexandra and Emil spent five days down among the river farms, +driving up and down the valley. Alexandra talked to the men about +their crops and to the women about their poultry. She spent a +whole day with one young farmer who had been away at school, and +who was experimenting with a new kind of clover hay. She learned +a great deal. As they drove along, she and Emil talked and planned. +At last, on the sixth day, Alexandra turned Brigham's head northward +and left the river behind. + +"There's nothing in it for us down there, Emil. There are a few +fine farms, but they are owned by the rich men in town, and couldn't +be bought. Most of the land is rough and hilly. They can always +scrape along down there, but they can never do anything big. Down +there they have a little certainty, but up with us there is a big +chance. We must have faith in the high land, Emil. I want to hold +on harder than ever, and when you're a man you'll thank me." She +urged Brigham forward. + +When the road began to climb the first long swells of the Divide, +Alexandra hummed an old Swedish hymn, and Emil wondered why his +sister looked so happy. Her face was so radiant that he felt shy +about asking her. For the first time, perhaps, since that land +emerged from the waters of geologic ages, a human face was set toward +it with love and yearning. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and +strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it, until +her tears blinded her. Then the Genius of the Divide, the great, +free spirit which breathes across it, must have bent lower than +it ever bent to a human will before. The history of every country +begins in the heart of a man or a woman. + +Alexandra reached home in the afternoon. That evening she held +a family council and told her brothers all that she had seen and +heard. + +"I want you boys to go down yourselves and look it over. Nothing +will convince you like seeing with your own eyes. The river land +was settled before this, and so they are a few years ahead of us, +and have learned more about farming. The land sells for three +times as much as this, but in five years we will double it. The +rich men down there own all the best land, and they are buying +all they can get. The thing to do is to sell our cattle and what +little old corn we have, and buy the Linstrum place. Then the next +thing to do is to take out two loans on our half-sections, and buy +Peter Crow's place; raise every dollar we can, and buy every acre +we can." + +"Mortgage the homestead again?" Lou cried. He sprang up and began +to wind the clock furiously. "I won't slave to pay off another +mortgage. I'll never do it. You'd just as soon kill us all, +Alexandra, to carry out some scheme!" + +Oscar rubbed his high, pale forehead. "How do you propose to pay +off your mortgages?" + +Alexandra looked from one to the other and bit her lip. They had +never seen her so nervous. "See here," she brought out at last. +"We borrow the money for six years. Well, with the money we buy +a half-section from Linstrum and a half from Crow, and a quarter +from Struble, maybe. That will give us upwards of fourteen hundred +acres, won't it? You won't have to pay off your mortgages for six +years. By that time, any of this land will be worth thirty dollars +an acre--it will be worth fifty, but we'll say thirty; then you +can sell a garden patch anywhere, and pay off a debt of sixteen +hundred dollars. It's not the principal I'm worried about, it's +the interest and taxes. We'll have to strain to meet the payments. +But as sure as we are sitting here to-night, we can sit down here +ten years from now independent landowners, not struggling farmers +any longer. The chance that father was always looking for has +come." + +Lou was pacing the floor. "But how do you KNOW that land is going +to go up enough to pay the mortgages and--" + +"And make us rich besides?" Alexandra put in firmly. "I can't +explain that, Lou. You'll have to take my word for it. I KNOW, +that's all. When you drive about over the country you can feel it +coming." + +Oscar had been sitting with his head lowered, his hands hanging +between his knees. "But we can't work so much land," he said +dully, as if he were talking to himself. "We can't even try. It +would just lie there and we'd work ourselves to death." He sighed, +and laid his calloused fist on the table. + +Alexandra's eyes filled with tears. She put her hand on his +shoulder. "You poor boy, you won't have to work it. The men in +town who are buying up other people's land don't try to farm it. +They are the men to watch, in a new country. Let's try to do +like the shrewd ones, and not like these stupid fellows. I don't +want you boys always to have to work like this. I want you to be +independent, and Emil to go to school." + +Lou held his head as if it were splitting. "Everybody will say we +are crazy. It must be crazy, or everybody would be doing it." + +"If they were, we wouldn't have much chance. No, Lou, I was talking +about that with the smart young man who is raising the new kind +of clover. He says the right thing is usually just what everybody +don't do. Why are we better fixed than any of our neighbors? Because +father had more brains. Our people were better people than these +in the old country. We OUGHT to do more than they do, and see +further ahead. Yes, mother, I'm going to clear the table now." + +Alexandra rose. The boys went to the stable to see to the stock, +and they were gone a long while. When they came back Lou played on +his DRAGHARMONIKA and Oscar sat figuring at his father's secretary +all evening. They said nothing more about Alexandra's project, +but she felt sure now that they would consent to it. Just before +bedtime Oscar went out for a pail of water. When he did not come +back, Alexandra threw a shawl over her head and ran down the path +to the windmill. She found him sitting there with his head in his +hands, and she sat down beside him. + +"Don't do anything you don't want to do, Oscar," she whispered. +She waited a moment, but he did not stir. "I won't say any more +about it, if you'd rather not. What makes you so discouraged?" + +"I dread signing my name to them pieces of paper," he said slowly. +"All the time I was a boy we had a mortgage hanging over us." + +"Then don't sign one. I don't want you to, if you feel that way." + +Oscar shook his head. "No, I can see there's a chance that way. +I've thought a good while there might be. We're in so deep now, we +might as well go deeper. But it's hard work pulling out of debt. +Like pulling a threshingmachine out of the mud; breaks your back. +Me and Lou's worked hard, and I can't see it's got us ahead much." + +"Nobody knows about that as well as I do, Oscar. That's why I want +to try an easier way. I don't want you to have to grub for every +dollar." + +"Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe it'll come out right. But signing +papers is signing papers. There ain't no maybe about that." He +took his pail and trudged up the path to the house. + +Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against +the frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so +keenly through the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch +them, to think of their vastness and distance, and of their ordered +march. It fortified her to reflect upon the great operations +of nature, and when she thought of the law that lay behind them, +she felt a sense of personal security. That night she had a new +consciousness of the country, felt almost a new relation to it. +Even her talk with the boys had not taken away the feeling that had +overwhelmed her when she drove back to the Divide that afternoon. +She had never known before how much the country meant to her. The +chirping of the insects down in the long grass had been like the +sweetest music. She had felt as if her heart were hiding down +there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and all the little +wild things that crooned or buzzed in the sun. Under the long +shaggy ridges, she felt the future stirring. + + + + + + +PART II + +Neighboring Fields + + + + +I + + +IT is sixteen years since John Bergson died. His wife now lies +beside him, and the white shaft that marks their graves gleams +across the wheat-fields. Could he rise from beneath it, he would +not know the country under which he has been asleep. The shaggy coat +of the prairie, which they lifted to make him a bed, has vanished +forever. From the Norwegian graveyard one looks out over a vast +checker-board, marked off in squares of wheat and corn; light and +dark, dark and light. Telephone wires hum along the white roads, +which always run at right angles. From the graveyard gate one can +count a dozen gayly painted farmhouses; the gilded weather-vanes +on the big red barns wink at each other across the green and brown +and yellow fields. The light steel windmills tremble throughout +their frames and tug at their moorings, as they vibrate in the wind +that often blows from one week's end to another across that high, +active, resolute stretch of country. + +The Divide is now thickly populated. The rich soil yields heavy +harvests; the dry, bracing climate and the smoothness of the land +make labor easy for men and beasts. There are few scenes more +gratifying than a spring plowing in that country, where the furrows +of a single field often lie a mile in length, and the brown earth, +with such a strong, clean smell, and such a power of growth and +fertility in it, yields itself eagerly to the plow; rolls away +from the shear, not even dimming the brightness of the metal, with +a soft, deep sigh of happiness. The wheatcutting sometimes goes +on all night as well as all day, and in good seasons there are +scarcely men and horses enough to do the harvesting. The grain is +so heavy that it bends toward the blade and cuts like velvet. + +There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face +of the country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the +season, holding nothing back. Like the plains of Lombardy, it +seems to rise a little to meet the sun. The air and the earth are +curiously mated and intermingled, as if the one were the breath +of the other. You feel in the atmosphere the same tonic, puissant +quality that is in the tilth, the same strength and resoluteness. + +One June morning a young man stood at the gate of the Norwegian +graveyard, sharpening his scythe in strokes unconsciously timed to +the tune he was whistling. He wore a flannel cap and duck trousers, +and the sleeves of his white flannel shirt were rolled back to +the elbow. When he was satisfied with the edge of his blade, he +slipped the whetstone into his hip pocket and began to swing his +scythe, still whistling, but softly, out of respect to the quiet +folk about him. Unconscious respect, probably, for he seemed +intent upon his own thoughts, and, like the Gladiator's, they were +far away. He was a splendid figure of a boy, tall and straight +as a young pine tree, with a handsome head, and stormy gray eyes, +deeply set under a serious brow. The space between his two front +teeth, which were unusually far apart, gave him the proficiency +in whistling for which he was distinguished at college. (He also +played the cornet in the University band.) + +When the grass required his close attention, or when he had to +stoop to cut about a head-stone, he paused in his lively air,--the +"Jewel" song,--taking it up where he had left it when his scythe +swung free again. He was not thinking about the tired pioneers +over whom his blade glittered. The old wild country, the struggle +in which his sister was destined to succeed while so many men broke +their hearts and died, he can scarcely remember. That is all among +the dim things of childhood and has been forgotten in the brighter +pattern life weaves to-day, in the bright facts of being captain +of the track team, and holding the interstate record for the high +jump, in the all-suffusing brightness of being twenty-one. Yet +sometimes, in the pauses of his work, the young man frowned and +looked at the ground with an intentness which suggested that even +twenty-one might have its problems. + +When he had been mowing the better part of an hour, he heard the +rattle of a light cart on the road behind him. Supposing that it +was his sister coming back from one of her farms, he kept on with +his work. The cart stopped at the gate and a merry contralto voice +called, "Almost through, Emil?" He dropped his scythe and went +toward the fence, wiping his face and neck with his handkerchief. +In the cart sat a young woman who wore driving gauntlets and a wide +shade hat, trimmed with red poppies. Her face, too, was rather +like a poppy, round and brown, with rich color in her cheeks and +lips, and her dancing yellow-brown eyes bubbled with gayety. The +wind was flapping her big hat and teasing a curl of her chestnut-colored +hair. She shook her head at the tall youth. + +"What time did you get over here? That's not much of a job for +an athlete. Here I've been to town and back. Alexandra lets you +sleep late. Oh, I know! Lou's wife was telling me about the way +she spoils you. I was going to give you a lift, if you were done." +She gathered up her reins. + +"But I will be, in a minute. Please wait for me, Marie," Emil +coaxed. "Alexandra sent me to mow our lot, but I've done half a +dozen others, you see. Just wait till I finish off the Kourdnas'. +By the way, they were Bohemians. Why aren't they up in the Catholic +graveyard?" + +"Free-thinkers," replied the young woman laconically. + +"Lots of the Bohemian boys at the University are," said Emil, taking +up his scythe again. "What did you ever burn John Huss for, anyway? +It's made an awful row. They still jaw about it in history classes." + +"We'd do it right over again, most of us," said the young woman +hotly. "Don't they ever teach you in your history classes that +you'd all be heathen Turks if it hadn't been for the Bohemians?" + +Emil had fallen to mowing. "Oh, there's no denying you're a spunky +little bunch, you Czechs," he called back over his shoulder. + +Marie Shabata settled herself in her seat and watched the rhythmical +movement of the young man's long arms, swinging her foot as if +in time to some air that was going through her mind. The minutes +passed. Emil mowed vigorously and Marie sat sunning herself and +watching the long grass fall. She sat with the ease that belongs +to persons of an essentially happy nature, who can find a comfortable +spot almost anywhere; who are supple, and quick in adapting themselves +to circumstances. After a final swish, Emil snapped the gate and +sprang into the cart, holding his scythe well out over the wheel. +"There," he sighed. "I gave old man Lee a cut or so, too. Lou's +wife needn't talk. I never see Lou's scythe over here." + +Marie clucked to her horse. "Oh, you know Annie!" She looked at +the young man's bare arms. "How brown you've got since you came +home. I wish I had an athlete to mow my orchard. I get wet to my +knees when I go down to pick cherries." + +"You can have one, any time you want him. Better wait until after +it rains." Emil squinted off at the horizon as if he were looking +for clouds. + +"Will you? Oh, there's a good boy!" She turned her head to him +with a quick, bright smile. He felt it rather than saw it. Indeed, +he had looked away with the purpose of not seeing it. "I've been +up looking at Angelique's wedding clothes," Marie went on, "and +I'm so excited I can hardly wait until Sunday. Amedee will be +a handsome bridegroom. Is anybody but you going to stand up with +him? Well, then it will be a handsome wedding party." She made a +droll face at Emil, who flushed. "Frank," Marie continued, flicking +her horse, "is cranky at me because I loaned his saddle to Jan +Smirka, and I'm terribly afraid he won't take me to the dance in +the evening. Maybe the supper will tempt him. All Angelique's +folks are baking for it, and all Amedee's twenty cousins. There +will be barrels of beer. If once I get Frank to the supper, I'll +see that I stay for the dance. And by the way, Emil, you mustn't +dance with me but once or twice. You must dance with all the French +girls. It hurts their feelings if you don't. They think you're +proud because you've been away to school or something." + +Emil sniffed. "How do you know they think that?" + +"Well, you didn't dance with them much at Raoul Marcel's party, and +I could tell how they took it by the way they looked at you--and +at me." + +"All right," said Emil shortly, studying the glittering blade of +his scythe. + +They drove westward toward Norway Creek, and toward a big white +house that stood on a hill, several miles across the fields. There +were so many sheds and outbuildings grouped about it that the +place looked not unlike a tiny village. A stranger, approaching +it, could not help noticing the beauty and fruitfulness of the +outlying fields. There was something individual about the great +farm, a most unusual trimness and care for detail. On either side +of the road, for a mile before you reached the foot of the hill, +stood tall osage orange hedges, their glossy green marking off +the yellow fields. South of the hill, in a low, sheltered swale, +surrounded by a mulberry hedge, was the orchard, its fruit trees +knee-deep in timothy grass. Any one thereabouts would have told +you that this was one of the richest farms on the Divide, and that +the farmer was a woman, Alexandra Bergson. + +If you go up the hill and enter Alexandra's big house, you will +find that it is curiously unfinished and uneven in comfort. One +room is papered, carpeted, over-furnished; the next is almost +bare. The pleasantest rooms in the house are the kitchen--where +Alexandra's three young Swedish girls chatter and cook and pickle +and preserve all summer long--and the sitting-room, in which +Alexandra has brought together the old homely furniture that the +Bergsons used in their first log house, the family portraits, and +the few things her mother brought from Sweden. + +When you go out of the house into the flower garden, there you feel +again the order and fine arrangement manifest all over the great +farm; in the fencing and hedging, in the windbreaks and sheds, in +the symmetrical pasture ponds, planted with scrub willows to give +shade to the cattle in fly-time. There is even a white row of +beehives in the orchard, under the walnut trees. You feel that, +properly, Alexandra's house is the big out-of-doors, and that it +is in the soil that she expresses herself best. + + + +II + + +Emil reached home a little past noon, and when he went into the +kitchen Alexandra was already seated at the head of the long table, +having dinner with her men, as she always did unless there were +visitors. He slipped into his empty place at his sister's right. +The three pretty young Swedish girls who did Alexandra's housework +were cutting pies, refilling coffeecups, placing platters of bread +and meat and potatoes upon the red tablecloth, and continually +getting in each other's way between the table and the stove. To be +sure they always wasted a good deal of time getting in each other's +way and giggling at each other's mistakes. But, as Alexandra had +pointedly told her sisters-in-law, it was to hear them giggle that +she kept three young things in her kitchen; the work she could +do herself, if it were necessary. These girls, with their long +letters from home, their finery, and their love-affairs, afforded +her a great deal of entertainment, and they were company for her +when Emil was away at school. + +Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty figure, mottled pink +cheeks, and yellow hair, Alexandra is very fond, though she keeps +a sharp eye upon her. Signa is apt to be skittish at mealtime, when +the men are about, and to spill the coffee or upset the cream. It +is supposed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six men at the dinner-table, +is courting Signa, though he has been so careful not to commit +himself that no one in the house, least of all Signa, can tell +just how far the matter has progressed. Nelse watches her glumly +as she waits upon the table, and in the evening he sits on a bench +behind the stove with his DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful airs +and watching her as she goes about her work. When Alexandra asked +Signa whether she thought Nelse was in earnest, the poor child hid +her hands under her apron and murmured, "I don't know, ma'm. But +he scolds me about everything, like as if he wanted to have me!" + +At Alexandra's left sat a very old man, barefoot and wearing a long +blue blouse, open at the neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiter +than it was sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes have become +pale and watery, and his ruddy face is withered, like an apple that +has clung all winter to the tree. When Ivar lost his land through +mismanagement a dozen years ago, Alexandra took him in, and he has +been a member of her household ever since. He is too old to work +in the fields, but he hitches and unhitches the work-teams and +looks after the health of the stock. Sometimes of a winter evening +Alexandra calls him into the sitting-room to read the Bible aloud +to her, for he still reads very well. He dislikes human habitations, +so Alexandra has fitted him up a room in the barn, where he is very +comfortable, being near the horses and, as he says, further from +temptations. No one has ever found out what his temptations are. +In cold weather he sits by the kitchen fire and makes hammocks +or mends harness until it is time to go to bed. Then he says his +prayers at great length behind the stove, puts on his buffalo-skin +coat and goes out to his room in the barn. + +Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller, +and she has more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous than +she did as a young girl. But she still has the same calmness and +deliberation of manner, the same clear eyes, and she still wears +her hair in two braids wound round her head. It is so curly that +fiery ends escape from the braids and make her head look like one +of the big double sunflowers that fringe her vegetable garden. +Her face is always tanned in summer, for her sunbonnet is oftener +on her arm than on her head. But where her collar falls away from +her neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back from her wrist, the +skin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none but Swedish women +ever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow itself. + +Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged her +men to talk, and she always listened attentively, even when they +seemed to be talking foolishly. + +To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed Irishman who had been with +Alexandra for five years and who was actually her foreman, though +he had no such title, was grumbling about the new silo she had put +up that spring. It happened to be the first silo on the Divide, +and Alexandra's neighbors and her men were skeptical about it. "To +be sure, if the thing don't work, we'll have plenty of feed without +it, indeed," Barney conceded. + +Nelse Jensen, Signa's gloomy suitor, had his word. "Lou, he says +he wouldn't have no silo on his place if you'd give it to him. +He says the feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard of +somebody lost four head of horses, feedin' 'em that stuff." + +Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. "Well, +the only way we can find out is to try. Lou and I have different +notions about feeding stock, and that's a good thing. It's bad if +all the members of a family think alike. They never get anywhere. +Lou can learn by my mistakes and I can learn by his. Isn't that +fair, Barney?" + +The Irishman laughed. He had no love for Lou, who was always uppish +with him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. "I've +no thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. 'T would be +only right, after puttin' so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will +come out an' have a look at it wid me." He pushed back his chair, +took his hat from the nail, and marched out with Emil, who, with +his university ideas, was supposed to have instigated the silo. +The other hands followed them, all except old Ivar. He had been +depressed throughout the meal and had paid no heed to the talk of +the men, even when they mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which he +was sure to have opinions. + +"Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?" Alexandra asked as she rose +from the table. "Come into the sitting-room." + +The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair +he shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him +to speak. He stood looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed, +his hands clasped in front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed to +have grown shorter with years, and they were completely misfitted +to his broad, thick body and heavy shoulders. + +"Well, Ivar, what is it?" Alexandra asked after she had waited +longer than usual. + +Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaint +and grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He +always addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hoping +to set a good example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too +familiar in their manners. + +"Mistress," he began faintly, without raising his eyes, "the folk +have been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been +talk." + +"Talk about what, Ivar?" + +"About sending me away; to the asylum." + +Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. "Nobody has come to me with +such talk," she said decidedly. "Why need you listen? You know +I would never consent to such a thing." + +Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little +eyes. "They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain of +me, if your brothers complain to the authorities. They say that +your brothers are afraid--God forbid!--that I may do you some +injury when my spells are on me. Mistress, how can any one think +that?--that I could bite the hand that fed me!" The tears trickled +down on the old man's beard. + +Alexandra frowned. "Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should come +bothering me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, +and other people have nothing to do with either you or me. So long +as I am suited with you, there is nothing to be said." + +Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse and +wiped his eyes and beard. "But I should not wish you to keep me +if, as they say, it is against your interests, and if it is hard +for you to get hands because I am here." + +Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his +hand and went on earnestly:-- + +"Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things +into account. You know that my spells come from God, and that +I would not harm any living creature. You believe that every one +should worship God in the way revealed to him. But that is not +the way of this country. The way here is for all to do alike. I +am despised because I do not wear shoes, because I do not cut my +hair, and because I have visions. At home, in the old country, +there were many like me, who had been touched by God, or who had +seen things in the graveyard at night and were different afterward. +We thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But here, if a man +is different in his feet or in his head, they put him in the asylum. +Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out of a creek, +he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could eat only +such food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything else, it +became enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about in +him, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. +He could work as good as any man, and his head was clear, but they +locked him up for being different in his stomach. That is the way; +they have built the asylum for people who are different, and they +will not even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Only +your great prosperity has protected me so far. If you had had +ill-fortune, they would have taken me to Hastings long ago." + +As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she +could often break his fasts and long penances by talking to him +and letting him pour out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy +always cleared his mind, and ridicule was poison to him. + +"There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not they +will be wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; +and then I may take you with me. But at present I need you here. +Only don't come to me again telling me what people say. Let people +go on talking as they like, and we will go on living as we think +best. You have been with me now for twelve years, and I have gone +to you for advice oftener than I have ever gone to any one. That +ought to satisfy you." + +Ivar bowed humbly. "Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with +their talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes +all these years, though you have never questioned me; washing them +every night, even in winter." + +Alexandra laughed. "Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We can +remember when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expect +old Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if +she dared. I'm glad I'm not Lou's mother-in-law." + +Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to a +whisper. "You know what they have over at Lou's house? A great +white tub, like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash +themselves in. When you sent me over with the strawberries, they +were all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. She took me +in and showed me the thing, and she told me it was impossible to +wash yourself clean in it, because, in so much water, you could +not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up and send her in +there, she pretends, and makes a splashing noise. Then, when they +are all asleep, she washes herself in a little wooden tub she keeps +under her bed." + +Alexandra shook with laughter. "Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won't let +her wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit +me, she can do all the old things in the old way, and have as much +beer as she wants. We'll start an asylum for old-time people, +Ivar." + +Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into +his blouse. "This is always the way, mistress. I come to you +sorrowing, and you send me away with a light heart. And will you +be so good as to tell the Irishman that he is not to work the brown +gelding until the sore on its shoulder is healed?" + +"That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare to the cart. I am going +to drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is +to buy my alfalfa hay." + + + +III + + +Alexandra was to hear more of Ivar's case, however. On Sunday her +married brothers came to dinner. She had asked them for that day +because Emil, who hated family parties, would be absent, dancing +at Amedee Chevalier's wedding, up in the French country. The table +was set for company in the dining-room, where highly varnished +wood and colored glass and useless pieces of china were conspicuous +enough to satisfy the standards of the new prosperity. Alexandra +had put herself into the hands of the Hanover furniture dealer, and +he had conscientiously done his best to make her dining-room look +like his display window. She said frankly that she knew nothing +about such things, and she was willing to be governed by the general +conviction that the more useless and utterly unusable objects +were, the greater their virtue as ornament. That seemed reasonable +enough. Since she liked plain things herself, it was all the more +necessary to have jars and punchbowls and candlesticks in the company +rooms for people who did appreciate them. Her guests liked to see +about them these reassuring emblems of prosperity. + +The family party was complete except for Emil, and Oscar's wife +who, in the country phrase, "was not going anywhere just now." +Oscar sat at the foot of the table and his four tow-headed little +boys, aged from twelve to five, were ranged at one side. Neither +Oscar nor Lou has changed much; they have simply, as Alexandra said +of them long ago, grown to be more and more like themselves. Lou +now looks the older of the two; his face is thin and shrewd and +wrinkled about the eyes, while Oscar's is thick and dull. For all +his dullness, however, Oscar makes more money than his brother, +which adds to Lou's sharpness and uneasiness and tempts him to +make a show. The trouble with Lou is that he is tricky, and his +neighbors have found out that, as Ivar says, he has not a fox's face +for nothing. Politics being the natural field for such talents, +he neglects his farm to attend conventions and to run for county +offices. + +Lou's wife, formerly Annie Lee, has grown to look curiously like +her husband. Her face has become longer, sharper, more aggressive. +She wears her yellow hair in a high pompadour, and is bedecked with +rings and chains and "beauty pins." Her tight, high-heeled shoes +give her an awkward walk, and she is always more or less preoccupied +with her clothes. As she sat at the table, she kept telling her +youngest daughter to "be careful now, and not drop anything on +mother." + +The conversation at the table was all in English. Oscar's wife, +from the malaria district of Missouri, was ashamed of marrying a +foreigner, and his boys do not understand a word of Swedish. Annie +and Lou sometimes speak Swedish at home, but Annie is almost as +much afraid of being "caught" at it as ever her mother was of being +caught barefoot. Oscar still has a thick accent, but Lou speaks +like anybody from Iowa. + +"When I was in Hastings to attend the convention," he was saying, +"I saw the superintendent of the asylum, and I was telling him about +Ivar's symptoms. He says Ivar's case is one of the most dangerous +kind, and it's a wonder he hasn't done something violent before +this." + +Alexandra laughed good-humoredly. "Oh, nonsense, Lou! The doctors +would have us all crazy if they could. Ivar's queer, certainly, +but he has more sense than half the hands I hire." + +Lou flew at his fried chicken. "Oh, I guess the doctor knows his +business, Alexandra. He was very much surprised when I told him +how you'd put up with Ivar. He says he's likely to set fire to the +barn any night, or to take after you and the girls with an axe." + +Little Signa, who was waiting on the table, giggled and fled to +the kitchen. Alexandra's eyes twinkled. "That was too much for +Signa, Lou. We all know that Ivar's perfectly harmless. The girls +would as soon expect me to chase them with an axe." + +Lou flushed and signaled to his wife. "All the same, the neighbors +will be having a say about it before long. He may burn anybody's +barn. It's only necessary for one property-owner in the township +to make complaint, and he'll be taken up by force. You'd better +send him yourself and not have any hard feelings." + +Alexandra helped one of her little nephews to gravy. "Well, Lou, +if any of the neighbors try that, I'll have myself appointed Ivar's +guardian and take the case to court, that's all. I am perfectly +satisfied with him." + +"Pass the preserves, Lou," said Annie in a warning tone. She had +reasons for not wishing her husband to cross Alexandra too openly. +"But don't you sort of hate to have people see him around here, +Alexandra?" she went on with persuasive smoothness. "He IS a +disgraceful object, and you're fixed up so nice now. It sort of +makes people distant with you, when they never know when they'll +hear him scratching about. My girls are afraid as death of him, +aren't you, Milly, dear?" + +Milly was fifteen, fat and jolly and pompadoured, with a creamy +complexion, square white teeth, and a short upper lip. She +looked like her grandmother Bergson, and had her comfortable and +comfort-loving nature. She grinned at her aunt, with whom she was +a great deal more at ease than she was with her mother. Alexandra +winked a reply. + +"Milly needn't be afraid of Ivar. She's an especial favorite of +his. In my opinion Ivar has just as much right to his own way of +dressing and thinking as we have. But I'll see that he doesn't +bother other people. I'll keep him at home, so don't trouble any +more about him, Lou. I've been wanting to ask you about your new +bathtub. How does it work?" + +Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. "Oh, +it works something grand! I can't keep him out of it. He washes +himself all over three times a week now, and uses all the hot water. +I think it's weakening to stay in as long as he does. You ought +to have one, Alexandra." + +"I'm thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar, +if it will ease people's minds. But before I get a bathtub, I'm +going to get a piano for Milly." + +Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. "What +does Milly want of a pianny? What's the matter with her organ? +She can make some use of that, and play in church." + +Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say +anything about this plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous +of what his sister did for Lou's children. Alexandra did not get +on with Oscar's wife at all. "Milly can play in church just the +same, and she'll still play on the organ. But practising on it +so much spoils her touch. Her teacher says so," Annie brought out +with spirit. + +Oscar rolled his eyes. "Well, Milly must have got on pretty good +if she's got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that +ain't," he said bluntly. + +Annie threw up her chin. "She has got on good, and she's going to +play for her commencement when she graduates in town next year." + +"Yes," said Alexandra firmly, "I think Milly deserves a piano. +All the girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but +Milly is the only one of them who can ever play anything when you +ask her. I'll tell you when I first thought I would like to give +you a piano, Milly, and that was when you learned that book of old +Swedish songs that your grandfather used to sing. He had a sweet +tenor voice, and when he was a young man he loved to sing. I can +remember hearing him singing with the sailors down in the shipyard, +when I was no bigger than Stella here," pointing to Annie's younger +daughter. + +Milly and Stella both looked through the door into the sitting-room, +where a crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra +had had it made from a little photograph, taken for his friends +just before he left Sweden; a slender man of thirty-five, with +soft hair curling about his high forehead, a drooping mustache, +and wondering, sad eyes that looked forward into the distance, as +if they already beheld the New World. + +After dinner Lou and Oscar went to the orchard to pick cherries--they +had neither of them had the patience to grow an orchard of their +own--and Annie went down to gossip with Alexandra's kitchen girls +while they washed the dishes. She could always find out more about +Alexandra's domestic economy from the prattling maids than from +Alexandra herself, and what she discovered she used to her own +advantage with Lou. On the Divide, farmers' daughters no longer +went out into service, so Alexandra got her girls from Sweden, by +paying their fare over. They stayed with her until they married, +and were replaced by sisters or cousins from the old country. + +Alexandra took her three nieces into the flower garden. She was +fond of the little girls, especially of Milly, who came to spend +a week with her aunt now and then, and read aloud to her from the +old books about the house, or listened to stories about the early +days on the Divide. While they were walking among the flower beds, +a buggy drove up the hill and stopped in front of the gate. A man +got out and stood talking to the driver. The little girls were +delighted at the advent of a stranger, some one from very far away, +they knew by his clothes, his gloves, and the sharp, pointed cut +of his dark beard. The girls fell behind their aunt and peeped out +at him from among the castor beans. The stranger came up to the +gate and stood holding his hat in his hand, smiling, while Alexandra +advanced slowly to meet him. As she approached he spoke in a low, +pleasant voice. + +"Don't you know me, Alexandra? I would have known you, anywhere." + +Alexandra shaded her eyes with her hand. Suddenly she took a quick +step forward. "Can it be!" she exclaimed with feeling; "can it be +that it is Carl Linstrum? Why, Carl, it is!" She threw out both +her hands and caught his across the gate. "Sadie, Milly, run tell +your father and Uncle Oscar that our old friend Carl Linstrum is +here. Be quick! Why, Carl, how did it happen? I can't believe +this!" Alexandra shook the tears from her eyes and laughed. + +The stranger nodded to his driver, dropped his suitcase inside +the fence, and opened the gate. "Then you are glad to see me, and +you can put me up overnight? I couldn't go through this country +without stopping off to have a look at you. How little you have +changed! Do you know, I was sure it would be like that. You +simply couldn't be different. How fine you are!" He stepped back +and looked at her admiringly. + +Alexandra blushed and laughed again. "But you yourself, Carl--with +that beard--how could I have known you? You went away a little +boy." She reached for his suitcase and when he intercepted her +she threw up her hands. "You see, I give myself away. I have only +women come to visit me, and I do not know how to behave. Where is +your trunk?" + +"It's in Hanover. I can stay only a few days. I am on my way to +the coast." + +They started up the path. "A few days? After all these years!" +Alexandra shook her finger at him. "See this, you have walked +into a trap. You do not get away so easy." She put her hand +affectionately on his shoulder. "You owe me a visit for the sake +of old times. Why must you go to the coast at all?" + +"Oh, I must! I am a fortune hunter. From Seattle I go on to +Alaska." + +"Alaska?" She looked at him in astonishment. "Are you going to +paint the Indians?" + +"Paint?" the young man frowned. "Oh! I'm not a painter, Alexandra. +I'm an engraver. I have nothing to do with painting." + +"But on my parlor wall I have the paintings--" + +He interrupted nervously. "Oh, water-color sketches--done for +amusement. I sent them to remind you of me, not because they were +good. What a wonderful place you have made of this, Alexandra." +He turned and looked back at the wide, map-like prospect of field +and hedge and pasture. "I would never have believed it could be +done. I'm disappointed in my own eye, in my imagination." + +At this moment Lou and Oscar came up the hill from the orchard. +They did not quicken their pace when they saw Carl; indeed, they +did not openly look in his direction. They advanced distrustfully, +and as if they wished the distance were longer. + +Alexandra beckoned to them. "They think I am trying to fool them. +Come, boys, it's Carl Linstrum, our old Carl!" + +Lou gave the visitor a quick, sidelong glance and thrust out his +hand. "Glad to see you." + +Oscar followed with "How d' do." Carl could not tell whether their +offishness came from unfriendliness or from embarrassment. He and +Alexandra led the way to the porch. + +"Carl," Alexandra explained, "is on his way to Seattle. He is +going to Alaska." + +Oscar studied the visitor's yellow shoes. "Got business there?" +he asked. + +Carl laughed. "Yes, very pressing business. I'm going there to +get rich. Engraving's a very interesting profession, but a man +never makes any money at it. So I'm going to try the goldfields." + +Alexandra felt that this was a tactful speech, and Lou looked up +with some interest. "Ever done anything in that line before?" + +"No, but I'm going to join a friend of mine who went out from New +York and has done well. He has offered to break me in." + +"Turrible cold winters, there, I hear," remarked Oscar. "I thought +people went up there in the spring." + +"They do. But my friend is going to spend the winter in Seattle and +I am to stay with him there and learn something about prospecting +before we start north next year." + +Lou looked skeptical. "Let's see, how long have you been away from +here?" + +"Sixteen years. You ought to remember that, Lou, for you were +married just after we went away." + +"Going to stay with us some time?" Oscar asked. + +"A few days, if Alexandra can keep me." + +"I expect you'll be wanting to see your old place," Lou observed +more cordially. "You won't hardly know it. But there's a few +chunks of your old sod house left. Alexandra wouldn't never let +Frank Shabata plough over it." + +Annie Lee, who, ever since the visitor was announced, had been +touching up her hair and settling her lace and wishing she had worn +another dress, now emerged with her three daughters and introduced +them. She was greatly impressed by Carl's urban appearance, and +in her excitement talked very loud and threw her head about. "And +you ain't married yet? At your age, now! Think of that! You'll +have to wait for Milly. Yes, we've got a boy, too. The youngest. +He's at home with his grandma. You must come over to see mother +and hear Milly play. She's the musician of the family. She does +pyrography, too. That's burnt wood, you know. You wouldn't believe +what she can do with her poker. Yes, she goes to school in town, +and she is the youngest in her class by two years." + +Milly looked uncomfortable and Carl took her hand again. He liked +her creamy skin and happy, innocent eyes, and he could see that her +mother's way of talking distressed her. "I'm sure she's a clever +little girl," he murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. "Let me +see-- Ah, it's your mother that she looks like, Alexandra. Mrs. +Bergson must have looked just like this when she was a little +girl. Does Milly run about over the country as you and Alexandra +used to, Annie?" + +Milly's mother protested. "Oh, my, no! Things has changed since +we was girls. Milly has it very different. We are going to rent +the place and move into town as soon as the girls are old enough +to go out into company. A good many are doing that here now. Lou +is going into business." + +Lou grinned. "That's what she says. You better go get your things +on. Ivar's hitching up," he added, turning to Annie. + +Young farmers seldom address their wives by name. It is always +"you," or "she." + +Having got his wife out of the way, Lou sat down on the step and +began to whittle. "Well, what do folks in New York think of William +Jennings Bryan?" Lou began to bluster, as he always did when he +talked politics. "We gave Wall Street a scare in ninety-six, all +right, and we're fixing another to hand them. Silver wasn't the +only issue," he nodded mysteriously. "There's a good many things +got to be changed. The West is going to make itself heard." + +Carl laughed. "But, surely, it did do that, if nothing else." + +Lou's thin face reddened up to the roots of his bristly hair. "Oh, +we've only begun. We're waking up to a sense of our responsibilities, +out here, and we ain't afraid, neither. You fellows back there +must be a tame lot. If you had any nerve you'd get together and +march down to Wall Street and blow it up. Dynamite it, I mean," +with a threatening nod. + +He was so much in earnest that Carl scarcely knew how to answer +him. "That would be a waste of powder. The same business would +go on in another street. The street doesn't matter. But what have +you fellows out here got to kick about? You have the only safe +place there is. Morgan himself couldn't touch you. One only has +to drive through this country to see that you're all as rich as +barons." + +"We have a good deal more to say than we had when we were poor," +said Lou threateningly. "We're getting on to a whole lot of things." + +As Ivar drove a double carriage up to the gate, Annie came out in +a hat that looked like the model of a battleship. Carl rose and +took her down to the carriage, while Lou lingered for a word with +his sister. + +"What do you suppose he's come for?" he asked, jerking his head +toward the gate. + +"Why, to pay us a visit. I've been begging him to for years." + +Oscar looked at Alexandra. "He didn't let you know he was coming?" + +"No. Why should he? I told him to come at any time." + +Lou shrugged his shoulders. "He doesn't seem to have done much +for himself. Wandering around this way!" + +Oscar spoke solemnly, as from the depths of a cavern. "He never +was much account." + +Alexandra left them and hurried down to the gate where Annie was +rattling on to Carl about her new dining-room furniture. "You +must bring Mr. Linstrum over real soon, only be sure to telephone +me first," she called back, as Carl helped her into the carriage. +Old Ivar, his white head bare, stood holding the horses. Lou came +down the path and climbed into the front seat, took up the reins, +and drove off without saying anything further to any one. Oscar +picked up his youngest boy and trudged off down the road, the other +three trotting after him. Carl, holding the gate open for Alexandra, +began to laugh. "Up and coming on the Divide, eh, Alexandra?" he +cried gayly. + + + +IV + + +Carl had changed, Alexandra felt, much less than one might have +expected. He had not become a trim, self-satisfied city man. There +was still something homely and wayward and definitely personal +about him. Even his clothes, his Norfolk coat and his very high +collars, were a little unconventional. He seemed to shrink into +himself as he used to do; to hold himself away from things, as if +he were afraid of being hurt. In short, he was more self-con-scious +than a man of thirty-five is expected to be. He looked older than +his years and not very strong. His black hair, which still hung +in a triangle over his pale forehead, was thin at the crown, and +there were fine, relentless lines about his eyes. His back, with +its high, sharp shoulders, looked like the back of an over-worked +German professor off on his holiday. His face was intelligent, +sensitive, unhappy. + +That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the +clump of castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The +gravel paths glittered in the moonlight, and below them the fields +lay white and still. + +"Do you know, Alexandra," he was saying, "I've been thinking how +strangely things work out. I've been away engraving other men's +pictures, and you've stayed at home and made your own." He pointed +with his cigar toward the sleeping landscape. "How in the world +have you done it? How have your neighbors done it?" + +"We hadn't any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. +It had its little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody +knew how to work it right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. +It woke up out of its sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, +so rich, that we suddenly found we were rich, just from sitting +still. As for me, you remember when I began to buy land. For +years after that I was always squeezing and borrowing until I was +ashamed to show my face in the banks. And then, all at once, men +began to come to me offering to lend me money--and I didn't need +it! Then I went ahead and built this house. I really built it +for Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so different from +the rest of us!" + +"How different?" + +"Oh, you'll see! I'm sure it was to have sons like Emil, and to +give them a chance, that father left the old country. It's curious, +too; on the outside Emil is just like an American boy,--he graduated +from the State University in June, you know,--but underneath he is +more Swedish than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that +he frightens me; he is so violent in his feelings like that." + +"Is he going to farm here with you?" + +"He shall do whatever he wants to," Alexandra declared warmly. "He +is going to have a chance, a whole chance; that's what I've worked +for. Sometimes he talks about studying law, and sometimes, just +lately, he's been talking about going out into the sand hills and +taking up more land. He has his sad times, like father. But I +hope he won't do that. We have land enough, at last!" Alexandra +laughed. + +"How about Lou and Oscar? They've done well, haven't they?" + +"Yes, very well; but they are different, and now that they have +farms of their own I do not see so much of them. We divided the +land equally when Lou married. They have their own way of doing +things, and they do not altogether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps +they think me too independent. But I have had to think for myself +a good many years and am not likely to change. On the whole, +though, we take as much comfort in each other as most brothers and +sisters do. And I am very fond of Lou's oldest daughter." + +"I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, and they probably +feel the same about me. I even, if you can keep a secret,"--Carl +leaned forward and touched her arm, smiling,--"I even think I liked +the old country better. This is all very splendid in its way, +but there was something about this country when it was a wild old +beast that has haunted me all these years. Now, when I come back +to all this milk and honey, I feel like the old German song, 'Wo +bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest Land?'-- Do you ever feel like +that, I wonder?" + +"Yes, sometimes, when I think about father and mother and those +who are gone; so many of our old neighbors." Alexandra paused and +looked up thoughtfully at the stars. "We can remember the graveyard +when it was wild prairie, Carl, and now--" + +"And now the old story has begun to write itself over there," said +Carl softly. "Isn't it queer: there are only two or three human +stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they +had never happened before; like the larks in this country, that +have been singing the same five notes over for thousands of years." + +"Oh, yes! The young people, they live so hard. And yet I sometimes +envy them. There is my little neighbor, now; the people who bought +your old place. I wouldn't have sold it to any one else, but I +was always fond of that girl. You must remember her, little Marie +Tovesky, from Omaha, who used to visit here? When she was eighteen +she ran away from the convent school and got married, crazy child! +She came out here a bride, with her father and husband. He had +nothing, and the old man was willing to buy them a place and set +them up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad to have her so +near me. I've never been sorry, either. I even try to get along +with Frank on her account." + +"Is Frank her husband?" + +"Yes. He's one of these wild fellows. Most Bohemians are +good-natured, but Frank thinks we don't appreciate him here, I +guess. He's jealous about everything, his farm and his horses and +his pretty wife. Everybody likes her, just the same as when she +was little. Sometimes I go up to the Catholic church with Emil, +and it's funny to see Marie standing there laughing and shaking +hands with people, looking so excited and gay, with Frank sulking +behind her as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank's not a bad +neighbor, but to get on with him you've got to make a fuss over +him and act as if you thought he was a very important person all +the time, and different from other people. I find it hard to keep +that up from one year's end to another." + +"I shouldn't think you'd be very successful at that kind of thing, +Alexandra." Carl seemed to find the idea amusing. + +"Well," said Alexandra firmly, "I do the best I can, on Marie's +account. She has it hard enough, anyway. She's too young and +pretty for this sort of life. We're all ever so much older and +slower. But she's the kind that won't be downed easily. She'll +work all day and go to a Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and +drive the hay wagon for a cross man next morning. I could stay by +a job, but I never had the go in me that she has, when I was going +my best. I'll have to take you over to see her to-morrow." + +Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly among the castor beans and +sighed. "Yes, I suppose I must see the old place. I'm cowardly +about things that remind me of myself. It took courage to come +at all, Alexandra. I wouldn't have, if I hadn't wanted to see you +very, very much." + +Alexandra looked at him with her calm, deliberate eyes. "Why do +you dread things like that, Carl?" she asked earnestly. "Why are +you dissatisfied with yourself?" + +Her visitor winced. "How direct you are, Alexandra! Just like +you used to be. Do I give myself away so quickly? Well, you see, +for one thing, there's nothing to look forward to in my profession. +Wood-engraving is the only thing I care about, and that had gone out +before I began. Everything's cheap metal work nowadays, touching +up miserable photographs, forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good +ones. I'm absolutely sick of it all." Carl frowned. "Alexandra, +all the way out from New York I've been planning how I could +deceive you and make you think me a very enviable fellow, and here +I am telling you the truth the first night. I waste a lot of time +pretending to people, and the joke of it is, I don't think I ever +deceive any one. There are too many of my kind; people know us on +sight." + +Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair back from her brow with a +puzzled, thoughtful gesture. "You see," he went on calmly, "measured +by your standards here, I'm a failure. I couldn't buy even one of +your cornfields. I've enjoyed a great many things, but I've got +nothing to show for it all." + +"But you show for it yourself, Carl. I'd rather have had your +freedom than my land." + +Carl shook his head mournfully. "Freedom so often means that one +isn't needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a +background of your own, you would be missed. But off there in the +cities there are thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all +alike; we have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing. When one +of us dies, they scarcely know where to bury him. Our landlady and +the delicatessen man are our mourners, and we leave nothing behind +us but a frock-coat and a fiddle, or an easel, or a typewriter, or +whatever tool we got our living by. All we have ever managed to +do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant rent that one has to pay for +a few square feet of space near the heart of things. We have no +house, no place, no people of our own. We live in the streets, +in the parks, in the theatres. We sit in restaurants and concert +halls and look about at the hundreds of our own kind and shudder." + +Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon +made on the surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that +she understood what he meant. At last she said slowly, "And yet I +would rather have Emil grow up like that than like his two brothers. +We pay a high rent, too, though we pay differently. We grow hard +and heavy here. We don't move lightly and easily as you do, and +our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider than my cornfields, +if there were not something beside this, I wouldn't feel that it +was much worth while to work. No, I would rather have Emil like +you than like them. I felt that as soon as you came." + +"I wonder why you feel like that?" Carl mused. + +"I don't know. Perhaps I am like Carrie Jensen, the sister of one +of my hired men. She had never been out of the cornfields, and a +few years ago she got despondent and said life was just the same +thing over and over, and she didn't see the use of it. After she +had tried to kill herself once or twice, her folks got worried and +sent her over to Iowa to visit some relations. Ever since she's +come back she's been perfectly cheerful, and she says she's contented +to live and work in a world that's so big and interesting. She +said that anything as big as the bridges over the Platte and the +Missouri reconciled her. And it's what goes on in the world that +reconciles me." + + + +V + + +Alexandra did not find time to go to her neighbor's the next day, nor +the next. It was a busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowing +going on, and even Emil was in the field with a team and cultivator. +Carl went about over the farms with Alexandra in the morning, and +in the afternoon and evening they found a great deal to talk about. +Emil, for all his track practice, did not stand up under farmwork +very well, and by night he was too tired to talk or even to practise +on his cornet. + +On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it was light, and stole +downstairs and out of the kitchen door just as old Ivar was making +his morning ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded to him and hurried +up the draw, past the garden, and into the pasture where the milking +cows used to be kept. + +The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire that +was burning under the edge of the world. The color was reflected +in the globules of dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass. +Carl walked rapidly until he came to the crest of the second hill, +where the Bergson pasture joined the one that had belonged to his +father. There he sat down and waited for the sun to rise. It was +just there that he and Alexandra used to do their milking together, he +on his side of the fence, she on hers. He could remember exactly +how she looked when she came over the close-cropped grass, her +skirts pinned up, her head bare, a bright tin pail in either hand, +and the milky light of the early morning all about her. Even as +a boy he used to feel, when he saw her coming with her free step, +her upright head and calm shoulders, that she looked as if she had +walked straight out of the morning itself. Since then, when he had +happened to see the sun come up in the country or on the water, he +had often remembered the young Swedish girl and her milking pails. + +Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in the +grass about him all the small creatures of day began to tune their +tiny instruments. Birds and insects without number began to chirp, +to twitter, to snap and whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill +noises. The pasture was flooded with light; every clump of ironweed +and snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden light +seemed to be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racing +in. + +He crossed the fence into the pasture that was now the Shabatas' and +continued his walk toward the pond. He had not gone far, however, +when he discovered that he was not the only person abroad. In the +draw below, his gun in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously, +with a young woman beside him. They were moving softly, keeping +close together, and Carl knew that they expected to find ducks on +the pond. At the moment when they came in sight of the bright spot +of water, he heard a whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into the +air. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and five of the birds +fell to the ground. Emil and his companion laughed delightedly, +and Emil ran to pick them up. When he came back, dangling the +ducks by their feet, Marie held her apron and he dropped them into +it. As she stood looking down at them, her face changed. She +took up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of feathers with the blood +dripping slowly from its mouth, and looked at the live color that +still burned on its plumage. + +As she let it fall, she cried in distress, "Oh, Emil, why did you?" + +"I like that!" the boy exclaimed indignantly. "Why, Marie, you +asked me to come yourself." + +":Yes, yes, I know," she said tearfully, "but I didn't think. I +hate to see them when they are first shot. They were having such +a good time, and we've spoiled it all for them." + +Emil gave a rather sore laugh. "I should say we had! I'm not going +hunting with you any more. You're as bad as Ivar. Here, let me +take them." He snatched the ducks out of her apron. + +"Don't be cross, Emil. Only--Ivar's right about wild things. They're +too happy to kill. You can tell just how they felt when they flew +up. They were scared, but they didn't really think anything could +hurt them. No, we won't do that any more." + +"All right," Emil assented. "I'm sorry I made you feel bad." As +he looked down into her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharp +young bitterness in his own. + +Carl watched them as they moved slowly down the draw. They had +not seen him at all. He had not overheard much of their dialogue, +but he felt the import of it. It made him, somehow, unreasonably +mournful to find two young things abroad in the pasture in the +early morning. He decided that he needed his breakfast. + + + +VI + + +At dinner that day Alexandra said she thought they must really +manage to go over to the Shabatas' that afternoon. "It's not often +I let three days go by without seeing Marie. She will think I have +forsaken her, now that my old friend has come back." + +After the men had gone back to work, Alexandra put on a white dress +and her sun-hat, and she and Carl set forth across the fields. +"You see we have kept up the old path, Carl. It has been so nice +for me to feel that there was a friend at the other end of it +again." + +Carl smiled a little ruefully. "All the same, I hope it hasn't +been QUITE the same." + +Alexandra looked at him with surprise. "Why, no, of course not. +Not the same. She could not very well take your place, if that's +what you mean. I'm friendly with all my neighbors, I hope. But +Marie is really a companion, some one I can talk to quite frankly. +You wouldn't want me to be more lonely than I have been, would +you?" + +Carl laughed and pushed back the triangular lock of hair with the +edge of his hat. "Of course I don't. I ought to be thankful that +this path hasn't been worn by--well, by friends with more pressing +errands than your little Bohemian is likely to have." He paused +to give Alexandra his hand as she stepped over the stile. "Are +you the least bit disappointed in our coming together again?" he +asked abruptly. "Is it the way you hoped it would be?" + +Alexandra smiled at this. "Only better. When I've thought about +your coming, I've sometimes been a little afraid of it. You have +lived where things move so fast, and everything is slow here; the +people slowest of all. Our lives are like the years, all made up +of weather and crops and cows. How you hated cows!" She shook her +head and laughed to herself. + +"I didn't when we milked together. I walked up to the pasture +corners this morning. I wonder whether I shall ever be able to +tell you all that I was thinking about up there. It's a strange +thing, Alexandra; I find it easy to be frank with you about everything +under the sun except--yourself!" + +"You are afraid of hurting my feelings, perhaps." Alexandra looked +at him thoughtfully. + +"No, I'm afraid of giving you a shock. You've seen yourself for +so long in the dull minds of the people about you, that if I were +to tell you how you seem to me, it would startle you. But you must +see that you astonish me. You must feel when people admire you." + +Alexandra blushed and laughed with some confusion. "I felt that +you were pleased with me, if you mean that." + +"And you've felt when other people were pleased with you?" he +insisted. + +"Well, sometimes. The men in town, at the banks and the county +offices, seem glad to see me. I think, myself, it is more pleasant +to do business with people who are clean and healthy-looking," she +admitted blandly. + +Carl gave a little chuckle as he opened the Shabatas' gate for her. +"Oh, do you?" he asked dryly. + +There was no sign of life about the Shabatas' house except a big +yellow cat, sunning itself on the kitchen doorstep. + +Alexandra took the path that led to the orchard. "She often sits +there and sews. I didn't telephone her we were coming, because I +didn't want her to go to work and bake cake and freeze ice-cream. +She'll always make a party if you give her the least excuse. Do +you recognize the apple trees, Carl?" + +Linstrum looked about him. "I wish I had a dollar for every bucket +of water I've carried for those trees. Poor father, he was an +easy man, but he was perfectly merciless when it came to watering +the orchard." + +"That's one thing I like about Germans; they make an orchard grow +if they can't make anything else. I'm so glad these trees belong +to some one who takes comfort in them. When I rented this place, +the tenants never kept the orchard up, and Emil and I used to come +over and take care of it ourselves. It needs mowing now. There +she is, down in the corner. Maria-a-a!" she called. + +A recumbent figure started up from the grass and came running toward +them through the flickering screen of light and shade. + +"Look at her! Isn't she like a little brown rabbit?" Alexandra +laughed. + +Maria ran up panting and threw her arms about Alexandra. "Oh, I +had begun to think you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you +were so busy. Yes, Emil told me about Mr. Linstrum being here. +Won't you come up to the house?" + +"Why not sit down there in your corner? Carl wants to see the +orchard. He kept all these trees alive for years, watering them +with his own back." + +Marie turned to Carl. "Then I'm thankful to you, Mr. Linstrum. We'd +never have bought the place if it hadn't been for this orchard, and +then I wouldn't have had Alexandra, either." She gave Alexandra's +arm a little squeeze as she walked beside her. "How nice your dress +smells, Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in your chest, like I +told you." + +She led them to the northwest corner of the orchard, sheltered on +one side by a thick mulberry hedge and bordered on the other by a +wheatfield, just beginning to yellow. In this corner the ground +dipped a little, and the blue-grass, which the weeds had driven out +in the upper part of the orchard, grew thick and luxuriant. Wild +roses were flaming in the tufts of bunchgrass along the fence. +Under a white mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. Beside +it lay a book and a workbasket. + +"You must have the seat, Alexandra. The grass would stain your +dress," the hostess insisted. She dropped down on the ground +at Alexandra's side and tucked her feet under her. Carl sat at +a little distance from the two women, his back to the wheatfield, +and watched them. Alexandra took off her shade-hat and threw it on +the ground. Marie picked it up and played with the white ribbons, +twisting them about her brown fingers as she talked. They made a +pretty picture in the strong sunlight, the leafy pattern surrounding +them like a net; the Swedish woman so white and gold, kindly and +amused, but armored in calm, and the alert brown one, her full lips +parted, points of yellow light dancing in her eyes as she laughed +and chattered. Carl had never forgotten little Marie Tovesky's +eyes, and he was glad to have an opportunity to study them. The +brown iris, he found, was curiously slashed with yellow, the color +of sunflower honey, or of old amber. In each eye one of these +streaks must have been larger than the others, for the effect was +that of two dancing points of light, two little yellow bubbles, +such as rise in a glass of champagne. Sometimes they seemed like +the sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily excited, to kindle +with a fierce little flame if one but breathed upon her. "What +a waste," Carl reflected. "She ought to be doing all that for a +sweetheart. How awkwardly things come about!" + +It was not very long before Marie sprang up out of the grass again. +"Wait a moment. I want to show you something." She ran away and +disappeared behind the low-growing apple trees. + +"What a charming creature," Carl murmured. "I don't wonder that +her husband is jealous. But can't she walk? does she always run?" + +Alexandra nodded. "Always. I don't see many people, but I don't +believe there are many like her, anywhere." + +Marie came back with a branch she had broken from an apricot tree, +laden with pale yellow, pink-cheeked fruit. She dropped it beside +Carl. "Did you plant those, too? They are such beautiful little +trees." + +Carl fingered the blue-green leaves, porous like blotting-paper and +shaped like birch leaves, hung on waxen red stems. "Yes, I think +I did. Are these the circus trees, Alexandra?" + +"Shall I tell her about them?" Alexandra asked. "Sit down like +a good girl, Marie, and don't ruin my poor hat, and I'll tell you +a story. A long time ago, when Carl and I were, say, sixteen and +twelve, a circus came to Hanover and we went to town in our wagon, +with Lou and Oscar, to see the parade. We hadn't money enough to +go to the circus. We followed the parade out to the circus grounds +and hung around until the show began and the crowd went inside the +tent. Then Lou was afraid we looked foolish standing outside in +the pasture, so we went back to Hanover feeling very sad. There +was a man in the streets selling apricots, and we had never seen +any before. He had driven down from somewhere up in the French +country, and he was selling them twenty-five cents a peck. We had +a little money our fathers had given us for candy, and I bought +two pecks and Carl bought one. They cheered us a good deal, and +we saved all the seeds and planted them. Up to the time Carl went +away, they hadn't borne at all." + +"And now he's come back to eat them," cried Marie, nodding at Carl. +"That IS a good story. I can remember you a little, Mr. Linstrum. +I used to see you in Hanover sometimes, when Uncle Joe took me to +town. I remember you because you were always buying pencils and +tubes of paint at the drug store. Once, when my uncle left me at +the store, you drew a lot of little birds and flowers for me on a +piece of wrapping-paper. I kept them for a long while. I thought +you were very romantic because you could draw and had such black +eyes." + +Carl smiled. "Yes, I remember that time. Your uncle bought you +some kind of a mechanical toy, a Turkish lady sitting on an ottoman +and smoking a hookah, wasn't it? And she turned her head backwards +and forwards." + +"Oh, yes! Wasn't she splendid! I knew well enough I ought not +to tell Uncle Joe I wanted it, for he had just come back from the +saloon and was feeling good. You remember how he laughed? She +tickled him, too. But when we got home, my aunt scolded him for +buying toys when she needed so many things. We wound our lady up +every night, and when she began to move her head my aunt used to +laugh as hard as any of us. It was a music-box, you know, and the +Turkish lady played a tune while she smoked. That was how she made +you feel so jolly. As I remember her, she was lovely, and had a +gold crescent on her turban." + +Half an hour later, as they were leaving the house, Carl and Alexandra +were met in the path by a strapping fellow in overalls and a blue +shirt. He was breathing hard, as if he had been running, and was +muttering to himself. + +Marie ran forward, and, taking him by the arm, gave him a little +push toward her guests. "Frank, this is Mr. Linstrum." + +Frank took off his broad straw hat and nodded to Alexandra. When +he spoke to Carl, he showed a fine set of white teeth. He was burned +a dull red down to his neckband, and there was a heavy three-days' +stubble on his face. Even in his agitation he was handsome, but +he looked a rash and violent man. + +Barely saluting the callers, he turned at once to his wife and +began, in an outraged tone, "I have to leave my team to drive the +old woman Hiller's hogs out-a my wheat. I go to take dat old woman +to de court if she ain't careful, I tell you!" + +His wife spoke soothingly. "But, Frank, she has only her lame boy +to help her. She does the best she can." + +Alexandra looked at the excited man and offered a suggestion. "Why +don't you go over there some afternoon and hog-tight her fences? +You'd save time for yourself in the end." + +Frank's neck stiffened. "Not-a-much, I won't. I keep my hogs +home. Other peoples can do like me. See? If that Louis can mend +shoes, he can mend fence." + +"Maybe," said Alexandra placidly; "but I've found it sometimes pays +to mend other people's fences. Good-bye, Marie. Come to see me +soon." + +Alexandra walked firmly down the path and Carl followed her. + +Frank went into the house and threw himself on the sofa, his face +to the wall, his clenched fist on his hip. Marie, having seen her +guests off, came in and put her hand coaxingly on his shoulder. + +"Poor Frank! You've run until you've made your head ache, now +haven't you? Let me make you some coffee." + +"What else am I to do?" he cried hotly in Bohemian. "Am I to let +any old woman's hogs root up my wheat? Is that what I work myself +to death for?" + +"Don't worry about it, Frank. I'll speak to Mrs. Hiller again. +But, really, she almost cried last time they got out, she was so +sorry." + +Frank bounced over on his other side. "That's it; you always side +with them against me. They all know it. Anybody here feels free +to borrow the mower and break it, or turn their hogs in on me. +They know you won't care!" + +Marie hurried away to make his coffee. When she came back, he was +fast asleep. She sat down and looked at him for a long while, very +thoughtfully. When the kitchen clock struck six she went out to +get supper, closing the door gently behind her. She was always +sorry for Frank when he worked himself into one of these rages, and +she was sorry to have him rough and quarrelsome with his neighbors. +She was perfectly aware that the neighbors had a good deal to put +up with, and that they bore with Frank for her sake. + + + +VII + + +Marie's father, Albert Tovesky, was one of the more intelligent +Bohemians who came West in the early seventies. He settled in Omaha +and became a leader and adviser among his people there. Marie was +his youngest child, by a second wife, and was the apple of his eye. +She was barely sixteen, and was in the graduating class of the +Omaha High School, when Frank Shabata arrived from the old country +and set all the Bohemian girls in a flutter. He was easily the +buck of the beer-gardens, and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with +his silk hat and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, wearing gloves +and carrying a little wisp of a yellow cane. He was tall and fair, +with splendid teeth and close-cropped yellow curls, and he wore a +slightly disdainful expression, proper for a young man with high +connections, whose mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. There +was often an interesting discontent in his blue eyes, and every +Bohemian girl he met imagined herself the cause of that unsatisfied +expression. He had a way of drawing out his cambric handkerchief +slowly, by one corner, from his breast-pocket, that was melancholy +and romantic in the extreme. He took a little flight with each +of the more eligible Bohemian girls, but it was when he was with +little Marie Tovesky that he drew his handkerchief out most slowly, +and, after he had lit a fresh cigar, dropped the match most +despairingly. Any one could see, with half an eye, that his proud +heart was bleeding for somebody. + +One Sunday, late in the summer after Marie's graduation, she met +Frank at a Bohemian picnic down the river and went rowing with him +all the afternoon. When she got home that evening she went straight +to her father's room and told him that she was engaged to Shabata. +Old Tovesky was having a comfortable pipe before he went to bed. +When he heard his daughter's announcement, he first prudently +corked his beer bottle and then leaped to his feet and had a turn +of temper. He characterized Frank Shabata by a Bohemian expression +which is the equivalent of stuffed shirt. + +"Why don't he go to work like the rest of us did? His farm in the +Elbe valley, indeed! Ain't he got plenty brothers and sisters? +It's his mother's farm, and why don't he stay at home and help her? +Haven't I seen his mother out in the morning at five o'clock with +her ladle and her big bucket on wheels, putting liquid manure on +the cabbages? Don't I know the look of old Eva Shabata's hands? +Like an old horse's hoofs they are--and this fellow wearing gloves +and rings! Engaged, indeed! You aren't fit to be out of school, +and that's what's the matter with you. I will send you off to the +Sisters of the Sacred Heart in St. Louis, and they will teach you +some sense, ~I~ guess!" + +Accordingly, the very next week, Albert Tovesky took his daughter, +pale and tearful, down the river to the convent. But the way to +make Frank want anything was to tell him he couldn't have it. He +managed to have an interview with Marie before she went away, +and whereas he had been only half in love with her before, he now +persuaded himself that he would not stop at anything. Marie took +with her to the convent, under the canvas lining of her trunk, the +results of a laborious and satisfying morning on Frank's part; no +less than a dozen photographs of himself, taken in a dozen different +love-lorn attitudes. There was a little round photograph for her +watch-case, photographs for her wall and dresser, and even long +narrow ones to be used as bookmarks. More than once the handsome +gentleman was torn to pieces before the French class by an indignant +nun. + +Marie pined in the convent for a year, until her eighteenth birthday +was passed. Then she met Frank Shabata in the Union Station in +St. Louis and ran away with him. Old Tovesky forgave his daughter +because there was nothing else to do, and bought her a farm in +the country that she had loved so well as a child. Since then her +story had been a part of the history of the Divide. She and Frank +had been living there for five years when Carl Linstrum came back +to pay his long deferred visit to Alexandra. Frank had, on the +whole, done better than one might have expected. He had flung +himself at the soil with savage energy. Once a year he went to +Hastings or to Omaha, on a spree. He stayed away for a week or +two, and then came home and worked like a demon. He did work; if +he felt sorry for himself, that was his own affair. + + + +VIII + + +On the evening of the day of Alexandra's call at the Shabatas', +a heavy rain set in. Frank sat up until a late hour reading the +Sunday newspapers. One of the Goulds was getting a divorce, and +Frank took it as a personal affront. In printing the story of the +young man's marital troubles, the knowing editor gave a sufficiently +colored account of his career, stating the amount of his income +and the manner in which he was supposed to spend it. Frank read +English slowly, and the more he read about this divorce case, the +angrier he grew. At last he threw down the page with a snort. He +turned to his farm-hand who was reading the other half of the paper. + +"By God! if I have that young feller in de hayfield once, I show +him someting. Listen here what he do wit his money." And Frank +began the catalogue of the young man's reputed extravagances. + +Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the Goulds, for whom she +had nothing but good will, should make her so much trouble. She +hated to see the Sunday newspapers come into the house. Frank was +always reading about the doings of rich people and feeling outraged. +He had an inexhaustible stock of stories about their crimes and +follies, how they bribed the courts and shot down their butlers +with impunity whenever they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson had very +similar ideas, and they were two of the political agitators of the +county. + +The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the +ground was too wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to +Sainte-Agnes to spend the day at Moses Marcel's saloon. After he +was gone, Marie went out to the back porch to begin her butter-making. +A brisk wind had come up and was driving puffy white clouds across +the sky. The orchard was sparkling and rippling in the sun. Marie +stood looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid of the +churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the air, the merry sound of +the whetstone on the scythe. That invitation decided her. She ran +into the house, put on a short skirt and a pair of her husband's +boots, caught up a tin pail and started for the orchard. Emil +had already begun work and was mowing vigorously. When he saw her +coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. His yellow canvas leggings +and khaki trousers were splashed to the knees. + +"Don't let me disturb you, Emil. I'm going to pick cherries. +Isn't everything beautiful after the rain? Oh, but I'm glad to get +this place mowed! When I heard it raining in the night, I thought +maybe you would come and do it for me to-day. The wind wakened +me. Didn't it blow dreadfully? Just smell the wild roses! They +are always so spicy after a rain. We never had so many of them +in here before. I suppose it's the wet season. Will you have to +cut them, too?" + +"If I cut the grass, I will," Emil said teasingly. "What's the +matter with you? What makes you so flighty?" + +"Am I flighty? I suppose that's the wet season, too, then. It's +exciting to see everything growing so fast,--and to get the grass +cut! Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut them. Oh, +I don't mean all of them, I mean that low place down by my tree, where +there are so many. Aren't you splashed! Look at the spider-webs +all over the grass. Good-bye. I'll call you if I see a snake." + +She tripped away and Emil stood looking after her. In a few moments +he heard the cherries dropping smartly into the pail, and he began +to swing his scythe with that long, even stroke that few American +boys ever learn. Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, +stripping one glittering branch after another, shivering when she +caught a shower of raindrops on her neck and hair. And Emil mowed +his way slowly down toward the cherry trees. + +That summer the rains had been so many and opportune that it was +almost more than Shabata and his man could do to keep up with the +corn; the orchard was a neglected wilderness. All sorts of weeds and +herbs and flowers had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, +pale green-and-white spikes of hoarhound, plantations of wild +cotton, tangles of foxtail and wild wheat. South of the apricot +trees, cornering on the wheatfield, was Frank's alfalfa, where +myriads of white and yellow butterflies were always fluttering +above the purple blossoms. When Emil reached the lower corner by +the hedge, Marie was sitting under her white mulberry tree, the +pailful of cherries beside her, looking off at the gentle, tireless +swelling of the wheat. + +"Emil," she said suddenly--he was mowing quietly about under the +tree so as not to disturb her--"what religion did the Swedes have +away back, before they were Christians?" + +Emil paused and straightened his back. "I don't know. About like +the Germans', wasn't it?" + +Marie went on as if she had not heard him. "The Bohemians, you +know, were tree worshipers before the missionaries came. Father says +the people in the mountains still do queer things, sometimes,--they +believe that trees bring good or bad luck." + +Emil looked superior. "Do they? Well, which are the lucky trees? +I'd like to know." + +"I don't know all of them, but I know lindens are. The old people +in the mountains plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do away +with the spells that come from the old trees they say have lasted +from heathen times. I'm a good Catholic, but I think I could get +along with caring for trees, if I hadn't anything else." + +"That's a poor saying," said Emil, stooping over to wipe his hands +in the wet grass. + +"Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that way. I like trees +because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than +other things do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever +think of when I sit here. When I come back to it, I never have to +remind it of anything; I begin just where I left off." + +Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached up among the branches +and began to pick the sweet, insipid fruit,--long ivory-colored +berries, tipped with faint pink, like white coral, that fall to +the ground unheeded all summer through. He dropped a handful into +her lap. + +"Do you like Mr. Linstrum?" Marie asked suddenly. + +"Yes. Don't you?" + +"Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of staid and school-teachery. +But, of course, he is older than Frank, even. I'm sure I don't +want to live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you think Alexandra +likes him very much?" + +"I suppose so. They were old friends." + +"Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!" Marie tossed her head impatiently. +"Does she really care about him? When she used to tell me about +him, I always wondered whether she wasn't a little in love with +him." + +"Who, Alexandra?" Emil laughed and thrust his hands into his +trousers pockets. "Alexandra's never been in love, you crazy!" He +laughed again. "She wouldn't know how to go about it. The idea!" + +Marie shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you don't know Alexandra as well +as you think you do! If you had any eyes, you would see that she +is very fond of him. It would serve you all right if she walked +off with Carl. I like him because he appreciates her more than +you do." + +Emil frowned. "What are you talking about, Marie? Alexandra's +all right. She and I have always been good friends. What more do +you want? I like to talk to Carl about New York and what a fellow +can do there." + +"Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of going off there?" + +"Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn't I?" The young man took up +his scythe and leaned on it. "Would you rather I went off in the +sand hills and lived like Ivar?" + +Marie's face fell under his brooding gaze. She looked down at his +wet leggings. "I'm sure Alexandra hopes you will stay on here," +she murmured. + +"Then Alexandra will be disappointed," the young man said roughly. +"What do I want to hang around here for? Alexandra can run the +farm all right, without me. I don't want to stand around and look +on. I want to be doing something on my own account." + +"That's so," Marie sighed. "There are so many, many things you +can do. Almost anything you choose." + +"And there are so many, many things I can't do." Emil echoed her +tone sarcastically. "Sometimes I don't want to do anything at +all, and sometimes I want to pull the four corners of the Divide +together,"--he threw out his arm and brought it back with a jerk,--"so, +like a table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses going up +and down, up and down." + +Marie looked up at his defiant figure and her face clouded. "I wish +you weren't so restless, and didn't get so worked up over things," +she said sadly. + +"Thank you," he returned shortly. + +She sighed despondently. "Everything I say makes you cross, don't +it? And you never used to be cross to me." + +Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning down at her bent head. +He stood in an attitude of self-defense, his feet well apart, his +hands clenched and drawn up at his sides, so that the cords stood +out on his bare arms. "I can't play with you like a little boy +any more," he said slowly. "That's what you miss, Marie. You'll +have to get some other little boy to play with." He stopped and took +a deep breath. Then he went on in a low tone, so intense that it +was almost threatening: "Sometimes you seem to understand perfectly, +and then sometimes you pretend you don't. You don't help things +any by pretending. It's then that I want to pull the corners of +the Divide together. If you WON'T understand, you know, I could +make you!" + +Marie clasped her hands and started up from her seat. She had grown +very pale and her eyes were shining with excitement and distress. +"But, Emil, if I understand, then all our good times are over, we +can never do nice things together any more. We shall have to behave +like Mr. Linstrum. And, anyhow, there's nothing to understand!" +She struck the ground with her little foot fiercely. "That won't +last. It will go away, and things will be just as they used to. +I wish you were a Catholic. The Church helps people, indeed it +does. I pray for you, but that's not the same as if you prayed +yourself." + +She spoke rapidly and pleadingly, looked entreatingly into his +face. Emil stood defiant, gazing down at her. + +"I can't pray to have the things I want," he said slowly, "and I +won't pray not to have them, not if I'm damned for it." + +Marie turned away, wringing her hands. "Oh, Emil, you won't try! +Then all our good times are over." + +"Yes; over. I never expect to have any more." + +Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe and began to mow. Marie +took up her cherries and went slowly toward the house, crying +bitterly. + + + +IX + + +On Sunday afternoon, a month after Carl Linstrum's arrival, he rode +with Emil up into the French country to attend a Catholic fair. He +sat for most of the afternoon in the basement of the church, where +the fair was held, talking to Marie Shabata, or strolled about the +gravel terrace, thrown up on the hillside in front of the basement +doors, where the French boys were jumping and wrestling and throwing +the discus. Some of the boys were in their white baseball suits; +they had just come up from a Sunday practice game down in the +ballgrounds. Amedee, the newly married, Emil's best friend, was +their pitcher, renowned among the country towns for his dash and +skill. Amedee was a little fellow, a year younger than Emil and +much more boyish in appearance; very lithe and active and neatly +made, with a clear brown and white skin, and flashing white teeth. +The Sainte-Agnes boys were to play the Hastings nine in a fortnight, +and Amedee's lightning balls were the hope of his team. The little +Frenchman seemed to get every ounce there was in him behind the +ball as it left his hand. + +"You'd have made the battery at the University for sure, 'Medee," +Emil said as they were walking from the ball-grounds back to the +church on the hill. "You're pitching better than you did in the +spring." + +Amedee grinned. "Sure! A married man don't lose his head no more." +He slapped Emil on the back as he caught step with him. "Oh, Emil, +you wanna get married right off quick! It's the greatest thing +ever!" + +Emil laughed. "How am I going to get married without any girl?" + +Amedee took his arm. "Pooh! There are plenty girls will have +you. You wanna get some nice French girl, now. She treat you well; +always be jolly. See,"--he began checking off on his fingers,--"there +is Severine, and Alphosen, and Josephine, and Hectorine, and Louise, +and Malvina--why, I could love any of them girls! Why don't you +get after them? Are you stuck up, Emil, or is anything the matter +with you? I never did know a boy twenty-two years old before that +didn't have no girl. You wanna be a priest, maybe? Not-a for me!" +Amedee swaggered. "I bring many good Catholics into this world, +I hope, and that's a way I help the Church." + +Emil looked down and patted him on the shoulder. "Now you're windy, +'Medee. You Frenchies like to brag." + +But Amedee had the zeal of the newly married, and he was not +to be lightly shaken off. "Honest and true, Emil, don't you want +ANY girl? Maybe there's some young lady in Lincoln, now, very +grand,"--Amedee waved his hand languidly before his face to denote +the fan of heartless beauty,--"and you lost your heart up there. +Is that it?" + +"Maybe," said Emil. + +But Amedee saw no appropriate glow in his friend's face. "Bah!" +he exclaimed in disgust. "I tell all the French girls to keep 'way +from you. You gotta rock in there," thumping Emil on the ribs. + +When they reached the terrace at the side of the church, Amedee, +who was excited by his success on the ball-grounds, challenged +Emil to a jumping-match, though he knew he would be beaten. They +belted themselves up, and Raoul Marcel, the choir tenor and Father +Duchesne's pet, and Jean Bordelau, held the string over which they +vaulted. All the French boys stood round, cheering and humping +themselves up when Emil or Amedee went over the wire, as if they +were helping in the lift. Emil stopped at five-feet-five, declaring +that he would spoil his appetite for supper if he jumped any more. + +Angelique, Amedee's pretty bride, as blonde and fair as her name, +who had come out to watch the match, tossed her head at Emil and +said:-- + +"'Medee could jump much higher than you if he were as tall. And +anyhow, he is much more graceful. He goes over like a bird, and +you have to hump yourself all up." + +"Oh, I do, do I?" Emil caught her and kissed her saucy mouth squarely, +while she laughed and struggled and called, "'Medee! 'Medee!" + +"There, you see your 'Medee isn't even big enough to get you away +from me. I could run away with you right now and he could only +sit down and cry about it. I'll show you whether I have to hump +myself!" Laughing and panting, he picked Angelique up in his arms +and began running about the rectangle with her. Not until he saw +Marie Shabata's tiger eyes flashing from the gloom of the basement +doorway did he hand the disheveled bride over to her husband. +"There, go to your graceful; I haven't the heart to take you away +from him." + +Angelique clung to her husband and made faces at Emil over the +white shoulder of Amedee's ball-shirt. Emil was greatly amused at +her air of proprietorship and at Amedee's shameless submission to +it. He was delighted with his friend's good fortune. He liked to +see and to think about Amedee's sunny, natural, happy love. + +He and Amedee had ridden and wrestled and larked together since +they were lads of twelve. On Sundays and holidays they were always +arm in arm. It seemed strange that now he should have to hide the +thing that Amedee was so proud of, that the feeling which gave one +of them such happiness should bring the other such despair. It +was like that when Alexandra tested her seed-corn in the spring, +he mused. From two ears that had grown side by side, the grains +of one shot up joyfully into the light, projecting themselves into +the future, and the grains from the other lay still in the earth +and rotted; and nobody knew why. + + + +X + + +While Emil and Carl were amusing themselves at the fair, Alexandra +was at home, busy with her account-books, which had been neglected +of late. She was almost through with her figures when she heard +a cart drive up to the gate, and looking out of the window she saw +her two older brothers. They had seemed to avoid her ever since +Carl Linstrum's arrival, four weeks ago that day, and she hurried +to the door to welcome them. She saw at once that they had come +with some very definite purpose. They followed her stiffly into +the sitting-room. Oscar sat down, but Lou walked over to the window +and remained standing, his hands behind him. + +"You are by yourself?" he asked, looking toward the doorway into +the parlor. + +"Yes. Carl and Emil went up to the Catholic fair." + +For a few moments neither of the men spoke. + +Then Lou came out sharply. "How soon does he intend to go away +from here?" + +"I don't know, Lou. Not for some time, I hope." Alexandra spoke +in an even, quiet tone that often exasperated her brothers. They +felt that she was trying to be superior with them. + +Oscar spoke up grimly. "We thought we ought to tell you that people +have begun to talk," he said meaningly. + +Alexandra looked at him. "What about?" + +Oscar met her eyes blankly. "About you, keeping him here so long. +It looks bad for him to be hanging on to a woman this way. People +think you're getting taken in." + +Alexandra shut her account-book firmly. "Boys," she said seriously, +"don't let's go on with this. We won't come out anywhere. I can't +take advice on such a matter. I know you mean well, but you must +not feel responsible for me in things of this sort. If we go on +with this talk it will only make hard feeling." + +Lou whipped about from the window. "You ought to think a little +about your family. You're making us all ridiculous." + +"How am I?" + +"People are beginning to say you want to marry the fellow." + +"Well, and what is ridiculous about that?" + +Lou and Oscar exchanged outraged looks. "Alexandra! Can't you +see he's just a tramp and he's after your money? He wants to be +taken care of, he does!" + +"Well, suppose I want to take care of him? Whose business is it +but my own?" + +"Don't you know he'd get hold of your property?" + +"He'd get hold of what I wished to give him, certainly." + +Oscar sat up suddenly and Lou clutched at his bristly hair. + +"Give him?" Lou shouted. "Our property, our homestead?" + +"I don't know about the homestead," said Alexandra quietly. "I +know you and Oscar have always expected that it would be left to +your children, and I'm not sure but what you're right. But I'll +do exactly as I please with the rest of my land, boys." + +"The rest of your land!" cried Lou, growing more excited every +minute. "Didn't all the land come out of the homestead? It was +bought with money borrowed on the homestead, and Oscar and me worked +ourselves to the bone paying interest on it." + +"Yes, you paid the interest. But when you married we made a division +of the land, and you were satisfied. I've made more on my farms +since I've been alone than when we all worked together." + +"Everything you've made has come out of the original land that us +boys worked for, hasn't it? The farms and all that comes out of +them belongs to us as a family." + +Alexandra waved her hand impatiently. "Come now, Lou. Stick to +the facts. You are talking nonsense. Go to the county clerk and +ask him who owns my land, and whether my titles are good." + +Lou turned to his brother. "This is what comes of letting a woman +meddle in business," he said bitterly. "We ought to have taken +things in our own hands years ago. But she liked to run things, +and we humored her. We thought you had good sense, Alexandra. We +never thought you'd do anything foolish." + +Alexandra rapped impatiently on her desk with her knuckles. +"Listen, Lou. Don't talk wild. You say you ought to have taken +things into your own hands years ago. I suppose you mean before +you left home. But how could you take hold of what wasn't there? +I've got most of what I have now since we divided the property; +I've built it up myself, and it has nothing to do with you." + +Oscar spoke up solemnly. "The property of a family really belongs +to the men of the family, no matter about the title. If anything +goes wrong, it's the men that are held responsible." + +"Yes, of course," Lou broke in. "Everybody knows that. Oscar and +me have always been easy-going and we've never made any fuss. We +were willing you should hold the land and have the good of it, but +you got no right to part with any of it. We worked in the fields +to pay for the first land you bought, and whatever's come out of +it has got to be kept in the family." + +Oscar reinforced his brother, his mind fixed on the one point he +could see. "The property of a family belongs to the men of the +family, because they are held responsible, and because they do the +work." + +Alexandra looked from one to the other, her eyes full of indignation. +She had been impatient before, but now she was beginning to feel +angry. "And what about my work?" she asked in an unsteady voice. + +Lou looked at the carpet. "Oh, now, Alexandra, you always took +it pretty easy! Of course we wanted you to. You liked to manage +round, and we always humored you. We realize you were a great +deal of help to us. There's no woman anywhere around that knows +as much about business as you do, and we've always been proud of +that, and thought you were pretty smart. But, of course, the real +work always fell on us. Good advice is all right, but it don't +get the weeds out of the corn." + +"Maybe not, but it sometimes puts in the crop, and it sometimes +keeps the fields for corn to grow in," said Alexandra dryly. "Why, +Lou, I can remember when you and Oscar wanted to sell this homestead +and all the improvements to old preacher Ericson for two thousand +dollars. If I'd consented, you'd have gone down to the river and +scraped along on poor farms for the rest of your lives. When I put +in our first field of alfalfa you both opposed me, just because I +first heard about it from a young man who had been to the University. +You said I was being taken in then, and all the neighbors said +so. You know as well as I do that alfalfa has been the salvation +of this country. You all laughed at me when I said our land here +was about ready for wheat, and I had to raise three big wheat crops +before the neighbors quit putting all their land in corn. Why, I +remember you cried, Lou, when we put in the first big wheat-planting, +and said everybody was laughing at us." + +Lou turned to Oscar. "That's the woman of it; if she tells you to +put in a crop, she thinks she's put it in. It makes women conceited +to meddle in business. I shouldn't think you'd want to remind us +how hard you were on us, Alexandra, after the way you baby Emil." + +"Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. Conditions were hard. +Maybe I would never have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly +didn't choose to be the kind of girl I was. If you take even a +vine and cut it back again and again, it grows hard, like a tree." + +Lou felt that they were wandering from the point, and that +in digression Alexandra might unnerve him. He wiped his forehead +with a jerk of his handkerchief. "We never doubted you, Alexandra. +We never questioned anything you did. You've always had your own +way. But you can't expect us to sit like stumps and see you done +out of the property by any loafer who happens along, and making +yourself ridiculous into the bargain." + +Oscar rose. "Yes," he broke in, "everybody's laughing to see you +get took in; at your age, too. Everybody knows he's nearly five +years younger than you, and is after your money. Why, Alexandra, +you are forty years old!" + +"All that doesn't concern anybody but Carl and me. Go to town and +ask your lawyers what you can do to restrain me from disposing of +my own property. And I advise you to do what they tell you; for +the authority you can exert by law is the only influence you will +ever have over me again." Alexandra rose. "I think I would rather +not have lived to find out what I have to-day," she said quietly, +closing her desk. + +Lou and Oscar looked at each other questioningly. There seemed to +be nothing to do but to go, and they walked out. + +"You can't do business with women," Oscar said heavily as he +clambered into the cart. "But anyhow, we've had our say, at last." + +Lou scratched his head. "Talk of that kind might come too high, you +know; but she's apt to be sensible. You hadn't ought to said that +about her age, though, Oscar. I'm afraid that hurt her feelings; +and the worst thing we can do is to make her sore at us. She'd +marry him out of contrariness." + +"I only meant," said Oscar, "that she is old enough to know better, +and she is. If she was going to marry, she ought to done it long +ago, and not go making a fool of herself now." + +Lou looked anxious, nevertheless. "Of course," he reflected hopefully +and inconsistently, "Alexandra ain't much like other women-folks. +Maybe it won't make her sore. Maybe she'd as soon be forty as +not!" + + + +XI + + +Emil came home at about half-past seven o'clock that evening. Old +Ivar met him at the windmill and took his horse, and the young +man went directly into the house. He called to his sister and she +answered from her bedroom, behind the sitting-room, saying that +she was lying down. + +Emil went to her door. + +"Can I see you for a minute?" he asked. "I want to talk to you +about something before Carl comes." + +Alexandra rose quickly and came to the door. "Where is Carl?" + +"Lou and Oscar met us and said they wanted to talk to him, so he +rode over to Oscar's with them. Are you coming out?" Emil asked +impatiently. + +"Yes, sit down. I'll be dressed in a moment." + +Alexandra closed her door, and Emil sank down on the old slat lounge +and sat with his head in his hands. When his sister came out, he +looked up, not knowing whether the interval had been short or long, +and he was surprised to see that the room had grown quite dark. +That was just as well; it would be easier to talk if he were not +under the gaze of those clear, deliberate eyes, that saw so far in +some directions and were so blind in others. Alexandra, too, was +glad of the dusk. Her face was swollen from crying. + +Emil started up and then sat down again. "Alexandra," he said +slowly, in his deep young baritone, "I don't want to go away to +law school this fall. Let me put it off another year. I want to +take a year off and look around. It's awfully easy to rush into +a profession you don't really like, and awfully hard to get out of +it. Linstrum and I have been talking about that." + +"Very well, Emil. Only don't go off looking for land." She came +up and put her hand on his shoulder. "I've been wishing you could +stay with me this winter." + +"That's just what I don't want to do, Alexandra. I'm restless. +I want to go to a new place. I want to go down to the City of +Mexico to join one of the University fellows who's at the head of +an electrical plant. He wrote me he could give me a little job, +enough to pay my way, and I could look around and see what I want +to do. I want to go as soon as harvest is over. I guess Lou and +Oscar will be sore about it." + +"I suppose they will." Alexandra sat down on the lounge beside +him. "They are very angry with me, Emil. We have had a quarrel. +They will not come here again." + +Emil scarcely heard what she was saying; he did not notice the +sadness of her tone. He was thinking about the reckless life he +meant to live in Mexico. + +"What about?" he asked absently. + +"About Carl Linstrum. They are afraid I am going to marry him, +and that some of my property will get away from them." + +Emil shrugged his shoulders. "What nonsense!" he murmured. "Just +like them." + +Alexandra drew back. "Why nonsense, Emil?" + +"Why, you've never thought of such a thing, have you? They always +have to have something to fuss about." + +"Emil," said his sister slowly, "you ought not to take things for +granted. Do you agree with them that I have no right to change my +way of living?" + +Emil looked at the outline of his sister's head in the dim light. +They were sitting close together and he somehow felt that she +could hear his thoughts. He was silent for a moment, and then said +in an embarrassed tone, "Why, no, certainly not. You ought to do +whatever you want to. I'll always back you." + +"But it would seem a little bit ridiculous to you if I married +Carl?" + +Emil fidgeted. The issue seemed to him too far-fetched to warrant +discussion. "Why, no. I should be surprised if you wanted to. I +can't see exactly why. But that's none of my business. You ought +to do as you please. Certainly you ought not to pay any attention +to what the boys say." + +Alexandra sighed. "I had hoped you might understand, a little, +why I do want to. But I suppose that's too much to expect. I've +had a pretty lonely life, Emil. Besides Marie, Carl is the only +friend I have ever had." + +Emil was awake now; a name in her last sentence roused him. He +put out his hand and took his sister's awkwardly. "You ought to +do just as you wish, and I think Carl's a fine fellow. He and I +would always get on. I don't believe any of the things the boys +say about him, honest I don't. They are suspicious of him because +he's intelligent. You know their way. They've been sore at me +ever since you let me go away to college. They're always trying to +catch me up. If I were you, I wouldn't pay any attention to them. +There's nothing to get upset about. Carl's a sensible fellow. He +won't mind them." + +"I don't know. If they talk to him the way they did to me, I think +he'll go away." + +Emil grew more and more uneasy. "Think so? Well, Marie said it +would serve us all right if you walked off with him." + +"Did she? Bless her little heart! SHE would." Alexandra's voice +broke. + +Emil began unlacing his leggings. "Why don't you talk to her about +it? There's Carl, I hear his horse. I guess I'll go upstairs and +get my boots off. No, I don't want any supper. We had supper at +five o'clock, at the fair." + +Emil was glad to escape and get to his own room. He was a little +ashamed for his sister, though he had tried not to show it. He +felt that there was something indecorous in her proposal, and she +did seem to him somewhat ridiculous. There was trouble enough in +the world, he reflected, as he threw himself upon his bed, without +people who were forty years old imagining they wanted to get +married. In the darkness and silence Emil was not likely to think +long about Alexandra. Every image slipped away but one. He had +seen Marie in the crowd that afternoon. She sold candy at the +fair. WHY had she ever run away with Frank Shabata, and how could +she go on laughing and working and taking an interest in things? +Why did she like so many people, and why had she seemed pleased when +all the French and Bohemian boys, and the priest himself, crowded +round her candy stand? Why did she care about any one but him? Why +could he never, never find the thing he looked for in her playful, +affectionate eyes? + +Then he fell to imagining that he looked once more and found it +there, and what it would be like if she loved him,--she who, as +Alexandra said, could give her whole heart. In that dream he could +lie for hours, as if in a trance. His spirit went out of his body +and crossed the fields to Marie Shabata. + +At the University dances the girls had often looked wonderingly +at the tall young Swede with the fine head, leaning against the +wall and frowning, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling +or the floor. All the girls were a little afraid of him. He was +distinguished-looking, and not the jollying kind. They felt that +he was too intense and preoccupied. There was something queer about +him. Emil's fraternity rather prided itself upon its dances, and +sometimes he did his duty and danced every dance. But whether he +was on the floor or brooding in a corner, he was always thinking +about Marie Shabata. For two years the storm had been gathering +in him. + + + +XII + + +Carl came into the sitting-room while Alexandra was lighting the +lamp. She looked up at him as she adjusted the shade. His sharp +shoulders stooped as if he were very tired, his face was pale, +and there were bluish shadows under his dark eyes. His anger had +burned itself out and left him sick and disgusted. + +"You have seen Lou and Oscar?" Alexandra asked. + +"Yes." His eyes avoided hers. + +Alexandra took a deep breath. "And now you are going away. I +thought so." + +Carl threw himself into a chair and pushed the dark lock back +from his forehead with his white, nervous hand. "What a hopeless +position you are in, Alexandra!" he exclaimed feverishly. "It is +your fate to be always surrounded by little men. And I am no better +than the rest. I am too little to face the criticism of even such +men as Lou and Oscar. Yes, I am going away; to-morrow. I cannot +even ask you to give me a promise until I have something to offer +you. I thought, perhaps, I could do that; but I find I can't." + +"What good comes of offering people things they don't need?" +Alexandra asked sadly. "I don't need money. But I have needed +you for a great many years. I wonder why I have been permitted to +prosper, if it is only to take my friends away from me." + +"I don't deceive myself," Carl said frankly. "I know that I am +going away on my own account. I must make the usual effort. I +must have something to show for myself. To take what you would +give me, I should have to be either a very large man or a very +small one, and I am only in the middle class." + +Alexandra sighed. "I have a feeling that if you go away, you will +not come back. Something will happen to one of us, or to both. +People have to snatch at happiness when they can, in this world. +It is always easier to lose than to find. What I have is yours, +if you care enough about me to take it." + +Carl rose and looked up at the picture of John Bergson. "But I +can't, my dear, I can't! I will go North at once. Instead of idling +about in California all winter, I shall be getting my bearings up +there. I won't waste another week. Be patient with me, Alexandra. +Give me a year!" + +"As you will," said Alexandra wearily. "All at once, in a single +day, I lose everything; and I do not know why. Emil, too, is going +away." Carl was still studying John Bergson's face and Alexandra's +eyes followed his. "Yes," she said, "if he could have seen all +that would come of the task he gave me, he would have been sorry. +I hope he does not see me now. I hope that he is among the old +people of his blood and country, and that tidings do not reach him +from the New World." + + + + + + +PART III + +Winter Memories + + + + +I + + +Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season in +which Nature recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between the +fruitfulness of autumn and the passion of spring. The birds have +gone. The teeming life that goes on down in the long grass is +exterminated. The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run +shivering from one frozen garden patch to another and are hard put +to it to find frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes +roam the wintry waste, howling for food. The variegated fields +are all one color now; the pastures, the stubble, the roads, the +sky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcely +perceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they have taken +on. The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walk +in the roads or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country, +and the spirit is oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One could +easily believe that in that dead landscape the germs of life and +fruitfulness were extinct forever. + +Alexandra has settled back into her old routine. There are weekly +letters from Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl +went away. To avoid awkward encounters in the presence of curious +spectators, she has stopped going to the Norwegian Church and drives +up to the Reform Church at Hanover, or goes with Marie Shabata to +the Catholic Church, locally known as "the French Church." She has +not told Marie about Carl, or her differences with her brothers. +She was never very communicative about her own affairs, and when +she came to the point, an instinct told her that about such things +she and Marie would not understand one another. + +Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family misunderstandings might +deprive her of her yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first day +of December Alexandra telephoned Annie that to-morrow she would +send Ivar over for her mother, and the next day the old lady arrived +with her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee had always entered +Alexandra's sitting-room with the same exclamation, "Now we be yust-a +like old times!" She enjoyed the liberty Alexandra gave her, and +hearing her own language about her all day long. Here she could +wear her nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, listen +to Ivar reading the Bible, and here she could run about among the +stables in a pair of Emil's old boots. Though she was bent almost +double, she was as spry as a gopher. Her face was as brown as if +it had been varnished, and as full of wrinkles as a washerwoman's +hands. She had three jolly old teeth left in the front of her +mouth, and when she grinned she looked very knowing, as if when +you found out how to take it, life wasn't half bad. While she and +Alexandra patched and pieced and quilted, she talked incessantly +about stories she read in a Swedish family paper, telling the plots +in great detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in Gottland +when she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot which were the printed +stories and which were the real stories, it all seemed so far away. +She loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, before +she went to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. "It +sends good dreams," she would say with a twinkle in her eye. + +When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for a week, Marie Shabata +telephoned one morning to say that Frank had gone to town for the +day, and she would like them to come over for coffee in the afternoon. +Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out and iron her new cross-stitched apron, +which she had finished only the night before; a checked gingham +apron worked with a design ten inches broad across the bottom; +a hunting scene, with fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen. +Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and refused a second +helping of apple dumplings. "I ta-ank I save up," she said with +a giggle. + +At two o'clock in the afternoon Alexandra's cart drove up to the +Shabatas' gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee's red shawl come bobbing up +the path. She ran to the door and pulled the old woman into the +house with a hug, helping her to take off her wraps while Alexandra +blanketed the horse outside. Mrs. Lee had put on her best black +satine dress--she abominated woolen stuffs, even in winter--and +a crocheted collar, fastened with a big pale gold pin, containing +faded daguerreotypes of her father and mother. She had not worn +her apron for fear of rumpling it, and now she shook it out and +tied it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie drew back and +threw up her hands, exclaiming, "Oh, what a beauty! I've never +seen this one before, have I, Mrs. Lee?" + +The old woman giggled and ducked her head. "No, yust las' night I +ma-ake. See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. My +sister send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis." + +Marie ran to the door again. "Come in, Alexandra. I have been +looking at Mrs. Lee's apron. Do stop on your way home and show it +to Mrs. Hiller. She's crazy about cross-stitch." + +While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, Mrs. Lee went out to the +kitchen and settled herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove, +looking with great interest at the table, set for three, with a white +cloth, and a pot of pink geraniums in the middle. "My, a-an't you +gotta fine plants; such-a much flower. How you keep from freeze?" + +She pointed to the window-shelves, full of blooming fuchsias and +geraniums. + +"I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it's very cold I put +them all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights I +only put newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing, +but when they don't bloom he says, 'What's the matter with the +darned things?'-- What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?" + +"He got to Dawson before the river froze, and now I suppose I won't +hear any more until spring. Before he left California he sent me +a box of orange flowers, but they didn't keep very well. I have +brought a bunch of Emil's letters for you." Alexandra came out +from the sitting-room and pinched Marie's cheek playfully. "You +don't look as if the weather ever froze you up. Never have colds, +do you? That's a good girl. She had dark red cheeks like this +when she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She looked like some queer +foreign kind of a doll. I've never forgot the first time I saw +you in Mieklejohn's store, Marie, the time father was lying sick. +Carl and I were talking about that before he went away." + +"I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. When are you going to +send Emil's Christmas box?" + +"It ought to have gone before this. I'll have to send it by mail +now, to get it there in time." + +Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbasket. "I +knit this for him. It's a good color, don't you think? Will you +please put it in with your things and tell him it's from me, to +wear when he goes serenading." + +Alexandra laughed. "I don't believe he goes serenading much. He +says in one letter that the Mexican ladies are said to be very +beautiful, but that don't seem to me very warm praise." + +Marie tossed her head. "Emil can't fool me. If he's bought a +guitar, he goes serenading. Who wouldn't, with all those Spanish +girls dropping flowers down from their windows! I'd sing to them +every night, wouldn't you, Mrs. Lee?" + +The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent down and +opened the oven door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the +tidy kitchen. "My, somet'ing smell good!" She turned to Alexandra +with a wink, her three yellow teeth making a brave show, "I ta-ank +dat stop my yaw from ache no more!" she said contentedly. + +Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, stuffed with stewed +apricots, and began to dust them over with powdered sugar. "I hope +you'll like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians always +like them with their coffee. But if you don't, I have a coffee-cake +with nuts and poppy seeds. Alexandra, will you get the cream jug? +I put it in the window to keep cool." + +"The Bohemians," said Alexandra, as they drew up to the table, +"certainly know how to make more kinds of bread than any other +people in the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the church +supper that she could make seven kinds of fancy bread, but Marie +could make a dozen." + +Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumb +and forefinger and weighed it critically. "Yust like-a fedders," +she pronounced with satisfaction. "My, a-an't dis nice!" she +exclaimed as she stirred her coffee. "I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly +now, too, I ta-ank." + +Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell to +talking of their own affairs. "I was afraid you had a cold when +I talked to you over the telephone the other night, Marie. What +was the matter, had you been crying?" + +"Maybe I had," Marie smiled guiltily. "Frank was out late that +night. Don't you get lonely sometimes in the winter, when everybody +has gone away?" + +"I thought it was something like that. If I hadn't had company, +I'd have run over to see for myself. If you get down-hearted, what +will become of the rest of us?" Alexandra asked. + +"I don't, very often. There's Mrs. Lee without any coffee!" + +Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marie +and Alexandra went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the +old lady wanted to borrow. "Better put on your coat, Alexandra. +It's cold up there, and I have no idea where those patterns are. I +may have to look through my old trunks." Marie caught up a shawl +and opened the stair door, running up the steps ahead of her guest. +"While I go through the bureau drawers, you might look in those +hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over where Frank's clothes hang. +There are a lot of odds and ends in them." + +She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandra +went into the clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding a +slender elastic yellow stick in her hand. + +"What in the world is this, Marie? You don't mean to tell me Frank +ever carried such a thing?" + +Marie blinked at it with astonishment and sat down on the floor. +"Where did you find it? I didn't know he had kept it. I haven't +seen it for years." + +"It really is a cane, then?" + +"Yes. One he brought from the old country. He used to carry it +when I first knew him. Isn't it foolish? Poor Frank!" + +Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. "He must +have looked funny!" + +Marie was thoughtful. "No, he didn't, really. It didn't seem out +of place. He used to be awfully gay like that when he was a young +man. I guess people always get what's hardest for them, Alexandra." +Marie gathered the shawl closer about her and still looked hard at +the cane. "Frank would be all right in the right place," she said +reflectively. "He ought to have a different kind of wife, for one +thing. Do you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly the right +sort of woman for Frank--now. The trouble is you almost have +to marry a man before you can find out the sort of wife he needs; +and usually it's exactly the sort you are not. Then what are you +going to do about it?" she asked candidly. + +Alexandra confessed she didn't know. "However," she added, "it +seems to me that you get along with Frank about as well as any +woman I've ever seen or heard of could." + +Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and blowing her warm breath +softly out into the frosty air. "No; I was spoiled at home. I +like my own way, and I have a quick tongue. When Frank brags, I +say sharp things, and he never forgets. He goes over and over it +in his mind; I can feel him. Then I'm too giddy. Frank's wife +ought to be timid, and she ought not to care about another living +thing in the world but just Frank! I didn't, when I married him, +but I suppose I was too young to stay like that." Marie sighed. + +Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so frankly about her husband +before, and she felt that it was wiser not to encourage her. No +good, she reasoned, ever came from talking about such things, and +while Marie was thinking aloud, Alexandra had been steadily searching +the hat-boxes. "Aren't these the patterns, Maria?" + +Maria sprang up from the floor. "Sure enough, we were looking +for patterns, weren't we? I'd forgot about everything but Frank's +other wife. I'll put that away." + +She poked the cane behind Frank's Sunday clothes, and though she +laughed, Alexandra saw there were tears in her eyes. + +When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall, +and Marie's visitors thought they must be getting home. She went +out to the cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs. +Lee while Alexandra took the blanket off her horse. As they drove +away, Marie turned and went slowly back to the house. She took up +the package of letters Alexandra had brought, but she did not read +them. She turned them over and looked at the foreign stamps, and +then sat watching the flying snow while the dusk deepened in the +kitchen and the stove sent out a red glow. + +Marie knew perfectly well that Emil's letters were written more for +her than for Alexandra. They were not the sort of letters that a +young man writes to his sister. They were both more personal and +more painstaking; full of descriptions of the gay life in the old +Mexican capital in the days when the strong hand of Porfirio Diaz +was still strong. He told about bull-fights and cock-fights, +churches and FIESTAS, the flower-markets and the fountains, the +music and dancing, the people of all nations he met in the Italian +restaurants on San Francisco Street. In short, they were the kind +of letters a young man writes to a woman when he wishes himself +and his life to seem interesting to her, when he wishes to enlist +her imagination in his behalf. + +Marie, when she was alone or when she sat sewing in the evening, +often thought about what it must be like down there where Emil was; +where there were flowers and street bands everywhere, and carriages +rattling up and down, and where there was a little blind boot-black +in front of the cathedral who could play any tune you asked for +by dropping the lids of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When +everything is done and over for one at twenty-three, it is pleasant +to let the mind wander forth and follow a young adventurer who has +life before him. "And if it had not been for me," she thought, +"Frank might still be free like that, and having a good time making +people admire him. Poor Frank, getting married wasn't very good +for him either. I'm afraid I do set people against him, as he says. +I seem, somehow, to give him away all the time. Perhaps he would +try to be agreeable to people again, if I were not around. It +seems as if I always make him just as bad as he can be." + +Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon as +the last satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After that +day the younger woman seemed to shrink more and more into herself. +When she was with Alexandra she was not spontaneous and frank +as she used to be. She seemed to be brooding over something, and +holding something back. The weather had a good deal to do with +their seeing less of each other than usual. There had not been +such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path across the fields was +drifted deep from Christmas until March. When the two neighbors +went to see each other, they had to go round by the wagon-road, +which was twice as far. They telephoned each other almost every +night, though in January there was a stretch of three weeks when +the wires were down, and when the postman did not come at all. + +Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. Hiller, +who was crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lame +shoemaker, to take care of her; and she went to the French Church, +whatever the weather. She was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed +for herself and for Frank, and for Emil, among the temptations of +that gay, corrupt old city. She found more comfort in the Church +that winter than ever before. It seemed to come closer to her, +and to fill an emptiness that ached in her heart. She tried to +be patient with her husband. He and his hired man usually played +California Jack in the evening. Marie sat sewing or crocheting and +tried to take a friendly interest in the game, but she was always +thinking about the wide fields outside, where the snow was drifting +over the fences; and about the orchard, where the snow was falling +and packing, crust over crust. When she went out into the dark +kitchen to fix her plants for the night, she used to stand by the +window and look out at the white fields, or watch the currents of +snow whirling over the orchard. She seemed to feel the weight of +all the snow that lay down there. The branches had become so hard +that they wounded your hand if you but tried to break a twig. And +yet, down under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, the +secret of life was still safe, warm as the blood in one's heart; +and the spring would come again! Oh, it would come again! + + + +II + + +If Alexandra had had much imagination she might have guessed what +was going on in Marie's mind, and she would have seen long before +what was going on in Emil's. But that, as Emil himself had more +than once reflected, was Alexandra's blind side, and her life had +not been of the kind to sharpen her vision. Her training had all +been toward the end of making her proficient in what she had undertaken +to do. Her personal life, her own realization of herself, was +almost a subconscious existence; like an underground river that +came to the surface only here and there, at intervals months apart, +and then sank again to flow on under her own fields. Nevertheless, +the underground stream was there, and it was because she had so much +personality to put into her enterprises and succeeded in putting +it into them so completely, that her affairs prospered better than +those of her neighbors. + +There were certain days in her life, outwardly uneventful, which +Alexandra remembered as peculiarly happy; days when she was close +to the flat, fallow world about her, and felt, as it were, in her +own body the joyous germination in the soil. There were days, +too, which she and Emil had spent together, upon which she loved +to look back. There had been such a day when they were down on +the river in the dry year, looking over the land. They had made +an early start one morning and had driven a long way before noon. +When Emil said he was hungry, they drew back from the road, gave +Brigham his oats among the bushes, and climbed up to the top of a +grassy bluff to eat their lunch under the shade of some little elm +trees. The river was clear there, and shallow, since there had +been no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling sand. Under +the overhanging willows of the opposite bank there was an inlet where +the water was deeper and flowed so slowly that it seemed to sleep +in the sun. In this little bay a single wild duck was swimming and +diving and preening her feathers, disporting herself very happily +in the flickering light and shade. They sat for a long time, +watching the solitary bird take its pleasure. No living thing +had ever seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild duck. Emil +must have felt about it as she did, for afterward, when they were +at home, he used sometimes to say, "Sister, you know our duck down +there--" Alexandra remembered that day as one of the happiest in +her life. Years afterward she thought of the duck as still there, +swimming and diving all by herself in the sunlight, a kind of +enchanted bird that did not know age or change. + +Most of Alexandra's happy memories were as impersonal as this one; +yet to her they were very personal. Her mind was a white book, +with clear writing about weather and beasts and growing things. +Not many people would have cared to read it; only a happy few. +She had never been in love, she had never indulged in sentimental +reveries. Even as a girl she had looked upon men as work-fellows. +She had grown up in serious times. + +There was one fancy indeed, which persisted through her girlhood. +It most often came to her on Sunday mornings, the one day in +the week when she lay late abed listening to the familiar morning +sounds; the windmill singing in the brisk breeze, Emil whistling +as he blacked his boots down by the kitchen door. Sometimes, as +she lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes closed, she used to have +an illusion of being lifted up bodily and carried lightly by some +one very strong. It was a man, certainly, who carried her, but +he was like no man she knew; he was much larger and stronger and +swifter, and he carried her as easily as if she were a sheaf of +wheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes closed, she could feel +that he was yellow like the sunlight, and there was the smell of +ripe cornfields about him. She could feel him approach, bend over +her and lift her, and then she could feel herself being carried +swiftly off across the fields. After such a reverie she would rise +hastily, angry with herself, and go down to the bath-house that +was partitioned off the kitchen shed. There she would stand in a +tin tub and prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by pouring +buckets of cold well-water over her gleaming white body which no +man on the Divide could have carried very far. + +As she grew older, this fancy more often came to her when she was +tired than when she was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she had +been in the open all day, overseeing the branding of the cattle or +the loading of the pigs, she would come in chilled, take a concoction +of spices and warm home-made wine, and go to bed with her body +actually aching with fatigue. Then, just before she went to sleep, +she had the old sensation of being lifted and carried by a strong +being who took from her all her bodily weariness. + + + + + + +PART IV + +The White Mulberry Tree + + + + +I + + +The French Church, properly the Church of Sainte-Agnes, stood +upon a hill. The high, narrow, red-brick building, with its tall +steeple and steep roof, could be seen for miles across the wheatfields, +though the little town of Sainte-Agnes was completely hidden away +at the foot of the hill. The church looked powerful and triumphant +there on its eminence, so high above the rest of the landscape, +with miles of warm color lying at its feet, and by its position and +setting it reminded one of some of the churches built long ago in +the wheat-lands of middle France. + +Late one June afternoon Alexandra Bergson was driving along one +of the many roads that led through the rich French farming country +to the big church. The sunlight was shining directly in her face, +and there was a blaze of light all about the red church on the +hill. Beside Alexandra lounged a strikingly exotic figure in a +tall Mexican hat, a silk sash, and a black velvet jacket sewn with +silver buttons. Emil had returned only the night before, and his +sister was so proud of him that she decided at once to take him up +to the church supper, and to make him wear the Mexican costume he +had brought home in his trunk. "All the girls who have stands are +going to wear fancy costumes," she argued, "and some of the boys. +Marie is going to tell fortunes, and she sent to Omaha for a Bohemian +dress her father brought back from a visit to the old country. +If you wear those clothes, they will all be pleased. And you must +take your guitar. Everybody ought to do what they can to help +along, and we have never done much. We are not a talented family." + +The supper was to be at six o'clock, in the basement of the church, +and afterward there would be a fair, with charades and an auction. +Alexandra had set out from home early, leaving the house to Signa +and Nelse Jensen, who were to be married next week. Signa had +shyly asked to have the wedding put off until Emil came home. + +Alexandra was well satisfied with her brother. As they drove +through the rolling French country toward the westering sun and the +stalwart church, she was thinking of that time long ago when she +and Emil drove back from the river valley to the still unconquered +Divide. Yes, she told herself, it had been worth while; both Emil +and the country had become what she had hoped. Out of her father's +children there was one who was fit to cope with the world, who had +not been tied to the plow, and who had a personality apart from the +soil. And that, she reflected, was what she had worked for. She +felt well satisfied with her life. + +When they reached the church, a score of teams were hitched in +front of the basement doors that opened from the hillside upon the +sanded terrace, where the boys wrestled and had jumping-matches. +Amedee Chevalier, a proud father of one week, rushed out and +embraced Emil. Amedee was an only son,--hence he was a very rich +young man,--but he meant to have twenty children himself, like +his uncle Xavier. "Oh, Emil," he cried, hugging his old friend +rapturously, "why ain't you been up to see my boy? You come +to-morrow, sure? Emil, you wanna get a boy right off! It's the +greatest thing ever! No, no, no! Angel not sick at all. Everything +just fine. That boy he come into this world laughin', and he been +laughin' ever since. You come an' see!" He pounded Emil's ribs +to emphasize each announcement. + +Emil caught his arms. "Stop, Amedee. You're knocking the wind out +of me. I brought him cups and spoons and blankets and moccasins +enough for an orphan asylum. I'm awful glad it's a boy, sure +enough!" + +The young men crowded round Emil to admire his costume and to tell +him in a breath everything that had happened since he went away. +Emil had more friends up here in the French country than down on +Norway Creek. The French and Bohemian boys were spirited and jolly, +liked variety, and were as much predisposed to favor anything new +as the Scandinavian boys were to reject it. The Norwegian and +Swedish lads were much more self-centred, apt to be egotistical +and jealous. They were cautious and reserved with Emil because he +had been away to college, and were prepared to take him down if he +should try to put on airs with them. The French boys liked a bit +of swagger, and they were always delighted to hear about anything +new: new clothes, new games, new songs, new dances. Now they +carried Emil off to show him the club room they had just fitted up +over the post-office, down in the village. They ran down the hill +in a drove, all laughing and chattering at once, some in French, +some in English. + +Alexandra went into the cool, whitewashed basement where the women +were setting the tables. Marie was standing on a chair, building +a little tent of shawls where she was to tell fortunes. She sprang +down and ran toward Alexandra, stopping short and looking at her +in disappointment. Alexandra nodded to her encouragingly. + +"Oh, he will be here, Marie. The boys have taken him off to show +him something. You won't know him. He is a man now, sure enough. +I have no boy left. He smokes terrible-smelling Mexican cigarettes +and talks Spanish. How pretty you look, child. Where did you get +those beautiful earrings?" + +"They belonged to father's mother. He always promised them to me. +He sent them with the dress and said I could keep them." + +Marie wore a short red skirt of stoutly woven cloth, a white bodice +and kirtle, a yellow silk turban wound low over her brown curls, +and long coral pendants in her ears. Her ears had been pierced +against a piece of cork by her great-aunt when she was seven years +old. In those germless days she had worn bits of broom-straw, plucked +from the common sweeping-broom, in the lobes until the holes were +healed and ready for little gold rings. + +When Emil came back from the village, he lingered outside on the +terrace with the boys. Marie could hear him talking and strumming +on his guitar while Raoul Marcel sang falsetto. She was vexed +with him for staying out there. It made her very nervous to hear +him and not to see him; for, certainly, she told herself, she was +not going out to look for him. When the supper bell rang and the +boys came trooping in to get seats at the first table, she forgot +all about her annoyance and ran to greet the tallest of the crowd, +in his conspicuous attire. She didn't mind showing her embarrassment +at all. She blushed and laughed excitedly as she gave Emil her +hand, and looked delightedly at the black velvet coat that brought +out his fair skin and fine blond head. Marie was incapable of being +lukewarm about anything that pleased her. She simply did not know +how to give a half-hearted response. When she was delighted, she +was as likely as not to stand on her tip-toes and clap her hands. +If people laughed at her, she laughed with them. + +"Do the men wear clothes like that every day, in the street?" She +caught Emil by his sleeve and turned him about. "Oh, I wish I lived +where people wore things like that! Are the buttons real silver? +Put on the hat, please. What a heavy thing! How do you ever wear +it? Why don't you tell us about the bull-fights?" + +She wanted to wring all his experiences from him at once, without +waiting a moment. Emil smiled tolerantly and stood looking down at +her with his old, brooding gaze, while the French girls fluttered +about him in their white dresses and ribbons, and Alexandra watched +the scene with pride. Several of the French girls, Marie knew, were +hoping that Emil would take them to supper, and she was relieved +when he took only his sister. Marie caught Frank's arm and dragged +him to the same table, managing to get seats opposite the Bergsons, +so that she could hear what they were talking about. Alexandra +made Emil tell Mrs. Xavier Chevalier, the mother of the twenty, +about how he had seen a famous matador killed in the bull-ring. +Marie listened to every word, only taking her eyes from Emil to +watch Frank's plate and keep it filled. When Emil finished his +account,--bloody enough to satisfy Mrs. Xavier and to make her +feel thankful that she was not a matador,--Marie broke out with +a volley of questions. How did the women dress when they went to +bull-fights? Did they wear mantillas? Did they never wear hats? + +After supper the young people played charades for the amusement +of their elders, who sat gossiping between their guesses. All the +shops in Sainte-Agnes were closed at eight o'clock that night, so +that the merchants and their clerks could attend the fair. The +auction was the liveliest part of the entertainment, for the French +boys always lost their heads when they began to bid, satisfied that +their extravagance was in a good cause. After all the pincushions +and sofa pillows and embroidered slippers were sold, Emil precipitated +a panic by taking out one of his turquoise shirt studs, which every +one had been admiring, and handing it to the auctioneer. All the +French girls clamored for it, and their sweethearts bid against +each other recklessly. Marie wanted it, too, and she kept making +signals to Frank, which he took a sour pleasure in disregarding. +He didn't see the use of making a fuss over a fellow just because +he was dressed like a clown. When the turquoise went to Malvina +Sauvage, the French banker's daughter, Marie shrugged her shoulders +and betook herself to her little tent of shawls, where she began +to shuffle her cards by the light of a tallow candle, calling out, +"Fortunes, fortunes!" + +The young priest, Father Duchesne, went first to have his fortune +read. Marie took his long white hand, looked at it, and then +began to run off her cards. "I see a long journey across water for +you, Father. You will go to a town all cut up by water; built on +islands, it seems to be, with rivers and green fields all about. +And you will visit an old lady with a white cap and gold hoops in +her ears, and you will be very happy there." + +"Mais, oui," said the priest, with a melancholy smile. "C'est +L'Isle-Adam, chez ma mere. Vous etes tres savante, ma fille." He +patted her yellow turban, calling, "Venez donc, mes garcons! Il +y a ici une veritable clairvoyante!" + +Marie was clever at fortune-telling, indulging in a light irony +that amused the crowd. She told old Brunot, the miser, that he +would lose all his money, marry a girl of sixteen, and live happily +on a crust. Sholte, the fat Russian boy, who lived for his stomach, +was to be disappointed in love, grow thin, and shoot himself from +despondency. Amedee was to have twenty children, and nineteen of +them were to be girls. Amedee slapped Frank on the back and asked +him why he didn't see what the fortune-teller would promise him. +But Frank shook off his friendly hand and grunted, "She tell my +fortune long ago; bad enough!" Then he withdrew to a corner and +sat glowering at his wife. + +Frank's case was all the more painful because he had no one +in particular to fix his jealousy upon. Sometimes he could have +thanked the man who would bring him evidence against his wife. +He had discharged a good farm-boy, Jan Smirka, because he thought +Marie was fond of him; but she had not seemed to miss Jan when +he was gone, and she had been just as kind to the next boy. The +farm-hands would always do anything for Marie; Frank couldn't find +one so surly that he would not make an effort to please her. At +the bottom of his heart Frank knew well enough that if he could once +give up his grudge, his wife would come back to him. But he could +never in the world do that. The grudge was fundamental. Perhaps +he could not have given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he got more +satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than he would have got +out of being loved. If he could once have made Marie thoroughly +unhappy, he might have relented and raised her from the dust. But +she had never humbled herself. In the first days of their love +she had been his slave; she had admired him abandonedly. But the +moment he began to bully her and to be unjust, she began to draw +away; at first in tearful amazement, then in quiet, unspoken disgust. +The distance between them had widened and hardened. It no longer +contracted and brought them suddenly together. The spark of her +life went somewhere else, and he was always watching to surprise +it. He knew that somewhere she must get a feeling to live upon, +for she was not a woman who could live without loving. He wanted +to prove to himself the wrong he felt. What did she hide in her +heart? Where did it go? Even Frank had his churlish delicacies; +he never reminded her of how much she had once loved him. For that +Marie was grateful to him. + +While Marie was chattering to the French boys, Amedee called Emil +to the back of the room and whispered to him that they were going +to play a joke on the girls. At eleven o'clock, Amedee was to go +up to the switchboard in the vestibule and turn off the electric +lights, and every boy would have a chance to kiss his sweetheart +before Father Duchesne could find his way up the stairs to turn the +current on again. The only difficulty was the candle in Marie's +tent; perhaps, as Emil had no sweetheart, he would oblige the boys +by blowing out the candle. Emil said he would undertake to do +that. + +At five minutes to eleven he sauntered up to Marie's booth, and +the French boys dispersed to find their girls. He leaned over the +card-table and gave himself up to looking at her. "Do you think +you could tell my fortune?" he murmured. It was the first word he +had had alone with her for almost a year. "My luck hasn't changed +any. It's just the same." + +Marie had often wondered whether there was anyone else who could +look his thoughts to you as Emil could. To-night, when she met his +steady, powerful eyes, it was impossible not to feel the sweetness +of the dream he was dreaming; it reached her before she could shut +it out, and hid itself in her heart. She began to shuffle her +cards furiously. "I'm angry with you, Emil," she broke out with +petulance. "Why did you give them that lovely blue stone to sell? +You might have known Frank wouldn't buy it for me, and I wanted it +awfully!" + +Emil laughed shortly. "People who want such little things surely +ought to have them," he said dryly. He thrust his hand into the +pocket of his velvet trousers and brought out a handful of uncut +turquoises, as big as marbles. Leaning over the table he dropped +them into her lap. "There, will those do? Be careful, don't let +any one see them. Now, I suppose you want me to go away and let +you play with them?" + +Marie was gazing in rapture at the soft blue color of the stones. +"Oh, Emil! Is everything down there beautiful like these? How +could you ever come away?" + +At that instant Amedee laid hands on the switchboard. There was a +shiver and a giggle, and every one looked toward the red blur that +Marie's candle made in the dark. Immediately that, too, was gone. +Little shrieks and currents of soft laughter ran up and down the +dark hall. Marie started up,--directly into Emil's arms. In the +same instant she felt his lips. The veil that had hung uncertainly +between them for so long was dissolved. Before she knew what she +was doing, she had committed herself to that kiss that was at once +a boy's and a man's, as timid as it was tender; so like Emil and +so unlike any one else in the world. Not until it was over did +she realize what it meant. And Emil, who had so often imagined +the shock of this first kiss, was surprised at its gentleness and +naturalness. It was like a sigh which they had breathed together; +almost sorrowful, as if each were afraid of wakening something in +the other. + +When the lights came on again, everybody was laughing and shouting, +and all the French girls were rosy and shining with mirth. Only +Marie, in her little tent of shawls, was pale and quiet. Under her +yellow turban the red coral pendants swung against white cheeks. +Frank was still staring at her, but he seemed to see nothing. Years +ago, he himself had had the power to take the blood from her cheeks +like that. Perhaps he did not remember--perhaps he had never +noticed! Emil was already at the other end of the hall, walking +about with the shoulder-motion he had acquired among the Mexicans, +studying the floor with his intent, deep-set eyes. Marie began to +take down and fold her shawls. She did not glance up again. The +young people drifted to the other end of the hall where the guitar +was sounding. In a moment she heard Emil and Raoul singing:-- + + +"Across the Rio Grand-e There lies a sunny land-e, My bright-eyed +Mexico!" + + +Alexandra Bergson came up to the card booth. "Let me help you, +Marie. You look tired." + +She placed her hand on Marie's arm and felt her shiver. Marie +stiffened under that kind, calm hand. Alexandra drew back, perplexed +and hurt. + +There was about Alexandra something of the impervious calm of the +fatalist, always disconcerting to very young people, who cannot +feel that the heart lives at all unless it is still at the mercy +of storms; unless its strings can scream to the touch of pain. + + + +II + + +Signa's wedding supper was over. The guests, and the tiresome +little Norwegian preacher who had performed the marriage ceremony, +were saying good-night. Old Ivar was hitching the horses to the +wagon to take the wedding presents and the bride and groom up to +their new home, on Alexandra's north quarter. When Ivar drove up +to the gate, Emil and Marie Shabata began to carry out the presents, +and Alexandra went into her bedroom to bid Signa good-bye and to +give her a few words of good counsel. She was surprised to find +that the bride had changed her slippers for heavy shoes and was +pinning up her skirts. At that moment Nelse appeared at the gate +with the two milk cows that Alexandra had given Signa for a wedding +present. + +Alexandra began to laugh. "Why, Signa, you and Nelse are to ride +home. I'll send Ivar over with the cows in the morning." + +Signa hesitated and looked perplexed. When her husband called her, +she pinned her hat on resolutely. "I ta-ank I better do yust like +he say," she murmured in confusion. + +Alexandra and Marie accompanied Signa to the gate and saw the +party set off, old Ivar driving ahead in the wagon and the bride +and groom following on foot, each leading a cow. Emil burst into +a laugh before they were out of hearing. + +"Those two will get on," said Alexandra as they turned back to the +house. "They are not going to take any chances. They will feel +safer with those cows in their own stable. Marie, I am going to +send for an old woman next. As soon as I get the girls broken in, +I marry them off." + +"I've no patience with Signa, marrying that grumpy fellow!" Marie +declared. "I wanted her to marry that nice Smirka boy who worked +for us last winter. I think she liked him, too." + +"Yes, I think she did," Alexandra assented, "but I suppose she was +too much afraid of Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think +of it, most of my girls have married men they were afraid of. I +believe there is a good deal of the cow in most Swedish girls. +You high-strung Bohemian can't understand us. We're a terribly +practical people, and I guess we think a cross man makes a good +manager." + +Marie shrugged her shoulders and turned to pin up a lock of hair +that had fallen on her neck. Somehow Alexandra had irritated her +of late. Everybody irritated her. She was tired of everybody. "I'm +going home alone, Emil, so you needn't get your hat," she said as +she wound her scarf quickly about her head. "Good-night, Alexandra," +she called back in a strained voice, running down the gravel walk. + +Emil followed with long strides until he overtook her. Then she began +to walk slowly. It was a night of warm wind and faint starlight, +and the fireflies were glimmering over the wheat. + +"Marie," said Emil after they had walked for a while, "I wonder if +you know how unhappy I am?" + +Marie did not answer him. Her head, in its white scarf, drooped +forward a little. + +Emil kicked a clod from the path and went on:-- + +"I wonder whether you are really shallow-hearted, like you seem? +Sometimes I think one boy does just as well as another for you. +It never seems to make much difference whether it is me or Raoul +Marcel or Jan Smirka. Are you really like that?" + +"Perhaps I am. What do you want me to do? Sit round and cry all +day? When I've cried until I can't cry any more, then--then I must +do something else." + +"Are you sorry for me?" he persisted. + +"No, I'm not. If I were big and free like you, I wouldn't let +anything make me unhappy. As old Napoleon Brunot said at the fair, +I wouldn't go lovering after no woman. I'd take the first train +and go off and have all the fun there is." + +"I tried that, but it didn't do any good. Everything reminded me. +The nicer the place was, the more I wanted you." They had come to +the stile and Emil pointed to it persuasively. "Sit down a moment, +I want to ask you something." Marie sat down on the top step and +Emil drew nearer. "Would you tell me something that's none of my +business if you thought it would help me out? Well, then, tell +me, PLEASE tell me, why you ran away with Frank Shabata!" + +Marie drew back. "Because I was in love with him," she said firmly. + +"Really?" he asked incredulously. + +"Yes, indeed. Very much in love with him. I think I was the one +who suggested our running away. From the first it was more my +fault than his." + +Emil turned away his face. + +"And now," Marie went on, "I've got to remember that. Frank is +just the same now as he was then, only then I would see him as I +wanted him to be. I would have my own way. And now I pay for it." + +"You don't do all the paying." + +"That's it. When one makes a mistake, there's no telling where +it will stop. But you can go away; you can leave all this behind +you." + +"Not everything. I can't leave you behind. Will you go away with +me, Marie?" + +Marie started up and stepped across the stile. "Emil! How wickedly +you talk! I am not that kind of a girl, and you know it. But what +am I going to do if you keep tormenting me like this!" she added +plaintively. + +"Marie, I won't bother you any more if you will tell me just +one thing. Stop a minute and look at me. No, nobody can see us. +Everybody's asleep. That was only a firefly. Marie, STOP and tell +me!" + +Emil overtook her and catching her by the shoulders shook her +gently, as if he were trying to awaken a sleepwalker. + +Marie hid her face on his arm. "Don't ask me anything more. I +don't know anything except how miserable I am. And I thought it +would be all right when you came back. Oh, Emil," she clutched his +sleeve and began to cry, "what am I to do if you don't go away? I +can't go, and one of us must. Can't you see?" + +Emil stood looking down at her, holding his shoulders stiff and +stiffening the arm to which she clung. Her white dress looked +gray in the darkness. She seemed like a troubled spirit, like some +shadow out of the earth, clinging to him and entreating him to give +her peace. Behind her the fireflies were weaving in and out over +the wheat. He put his hand on her bent head. "On my honor, Marie, +if you will say you love me, I will go away." + +She lifted her face to his. "How could I help it? Didn't you +know?" + +Emil was the one who trembled, through all his frame. After he +left Marie at her gate, he wandered about the fields all night, +till morning put out the fireflies and the stars. + + + +III + + +One evening, a week after Signa's wedding, Emil was kneeling before +a box in the sitting-room, packing his books. From time to time +he rose and wandered about the house, picking up stray volumes and +bringing them listlessly back to his box. He was packing without +enthusiasm. He was not very sanguine about his future. Alexandra +sat sewing by the table. She had helped him pack his trunk in +the afternoon. As Emil came and went by her chair with his books, +he thought to himself that it had not been so hard to leave his +sister since he first went away to school. He was going directly +to Omaha, to read law in the office of a Swedish lawyer until +October, when he would enter the law school at Ann Arbor. They +had planned that Alexandra was to come to Michigan--a long journey +for her--at Christmas time, and spend several weeks with him. +Nevertheless, he felt that this leavetaking would be more final +than his earlier ones had been; that it meant a definite break with +his old home and the beginning of something new--he did not know +what. His ideas about the future would not crystallize; the more +he tried to think about it, the vaguer his conception of it became. +But one thing was clear, he told himself; it was high time that he +made good to Alexandra, and that ought to be incentive enough to +begin with. + +As he went about gathering up his books he felt as if he were +uprooting things. At last he threw himself down on the old slat +lounge where he had slept when he was little, and lay looking up +at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. + +"Tired, Emil?" his sister asked. + +"Lazy," he murmured, turning on his side and looking at her. He +studied Alexandra's face for a long time in the lamplight. It had +never occurred to him that his sister was a handsome woman until +Marie Shabata had told him so. Indeed, he had never thought of +her as being a woman at all, only a sister. As he studied her bent +head, he looked up at the picture of John Bergson above the lamp. +"No," he thought to himself, "she didn't get it there. I suppose +I am more like that." + +"Alexandra," he said suddenly, "that old walnut secretary you use +for a desk was father's, wasn't it?" + +Alexandra went on stitching. "Yes. It was one of the first things +he bought for the old log house. It was a great extravagance +in those days. But he wrote a great many letters back to the old +country. He had many friends there, and they wrote to him up to the +time he died. No one ever blamed him for grandfather's disgrace. +I can see him now, sitting there on Sundays, in his white shirt, +writing pages and pages, so carefully. He wrote a fine, regular +hand, almost like engraving. Yours is something like his, when +you take pains." + +"Grandfather was really crooked, was he?" + +"He married an unscrupulous woman, and then--then I'm afraid he +was really crooked. When we first came here father used to have +dreams about making a great fortune and going back to Sweden to +pay back to the poor sailors the money grandfather had lost." + +Emil stirred on the lounge. "I say, that would have been worth +while, wouldn't it? Father wasn't a bit like Lou or Oscar, was +he? I can't remember much about him before he got sick." + +"Oh, not at all!" Alexandra dropped her sewing on her knee. "He +had better opportunities; not to make money, but to make something +of himself. He was a quiet man, but he was very intelligent. You +would have been proud of him, Emil." + +Alexandra felt that he would like to know there had been a man of +his kin whom he could admire. She knew that Emil was ashamed of +Lou and Oscar, because they were bigoted and self-satisfied. He +never said much about them, but she could feel his disgust. His +brothers had shown their disapproval of him ever since he first +went away to school. The only thing that would have satisfied them +would have been his failure at the University. As it was, they +resented every change in his speech, in his dress, in his point of +view; though the latter they had to conjecture, for Emil avoided +talking to them about any but family matters. All his interests +they treated as affectations. + +Alexandra took up her sewing again. "I can remember father when +he was quite a young man. He belonged to some kind of a musical +society, a male chorus, in Stockholm. I can remember going with +mother to hear them sing. There must have been a hundred of them, +and they all wore long black coats and white neckties. I was +used to seeing father in a blue coat, a sort of jacket, and when I +recognized him on the platform, I was very proud. Do you remember +that Swedish song he taught you, about the ship boy?" + +"Yes. I used to sing it to the Mexicans. They like anything +different." Emil paused. "Father had a hard fight here, didn't +he?" he added thoughtfully. + +"Yes, and he died in a dark time. Still, he had hope. He believed +in the land." + +"And in you, I guess," Emil said to himself. There was another +period of silence; that warm, friendly silence, full of perfect +understanding, in which Emil and Alexandra had spent many of their +happiest half-hours. + +At last Emil said abruptly, "Lou and Oscar would be better off if +they were poor, wouldn't they?" + +Alexandra smiled. "Maybe. But their children wouldn't. I have +great hopes of Milly." + +Emil shivered. "I don't know. Seems to me it gets worse as it +goes on. The worst of the Swedes is that they're never willing +to find out how much they don't know. It was like that at the +University. Always so pleased with themselves! There's no getting +behind that conceited Swedish grin. The Bohemians and Germans were +so different." + +"Come, Emil, don't go back on your own people. Father wasn't +conceited, Uncle Otto wasn't. Even Lou and Oscar weren't when they +were boys." + +Emil looked incredulous, but he did not dispute the point. He +turned on his back and lay still for a long time, his hands locked +under his head, looking up at the ceiling. Alexandra knew that he +was thinking of many things. She felt no anxiety about Emil. She +had always believed in him, as she had believed in the land. He +had been more like himself since he got back from Mexico; seemed +glad to be at home, and talked to her as he used to do. She had +no doubt that his wandering fit was over, and that he would soon +be settled in life. + +"Alexandra," said Emil suddenly, "do you remember the wild duck we +saw down on the river that time?" + +His sister looked up. "I often think of her. It always seems to +me she's there still, just like we saw her." + +"I know. It's queer what things one remembers and what things one +forgets." Emil yawned and sat up. "Well, it's time to turn in." +He rose, and going over to Alexandra stooped down and kissed her +lightly on the cheek. "Good-night, sister. I think you did pretty +well by us." + +Emil took up his lamp and went upstairs. Alexandra sat finishing +his new nightshirt, that must go in the top tray of his trunk. + + + +IV + + +The next morning Angelique, Amedee's wife, was in the kitchen baking +pies, assisted by old Mrs. Chevalier. Between the mixing-board +and the stove stood the old cradle that had been Amedee's, and in +it was his black-eyed son. As Angelique, flushed and excited, with +flour on her hands, stopped to smile at the baby, Emil Bergson rode +up to the kitchen door on his mare and dismounted. + +"'Medee is out in the field, Emil," Angelique called as she ran +across the kitchen to the oven. "He begins to cut his wheat to-day; +the first wheat ready to cut anywhere about here. He bought a new +header, you know, because all the wheat's so short this year. I +hope he can rent it to the neighbors, it cost so much. He and his +cousins bought a steam thresher on shares. You ought to go out and +see that header work. I watched it an hour this morning, busy as +I am with all the men to feed. He has a lot of hands, but he's +the only one that knows how to drive the header or how to run the +engine, so he has to be everywhere at once. He's sick, too, and +ought to be in his bed." + +Emil bent over Hector Baptiste, trying to make him blink his round, +bead-like black eyes. "Sick? What's the matter with your daddy, +kid? Been making him walk the floor with you?" + +Angelique sniffed. "Not much! We don't have that kind of babies. +It was his father that kept Baptiste awake. All night I had to be +getting up and making mustard plasters to put on his stomach. He +had an awful colic. He said he felt better this morning, but I +don't think he ought to be out in the field, overheating himself." + +Angelique did not speak with much anxiety, not because she was +indifferent, but because she felt so secure in their good fortune. +Only good things could happen to a rich, energetic, handsome young +man like Amedee, with a new baby in the cradle and a new header in +the field. + +Emil stroked the black fuzz on Baptiste's head. "I say, Angelique, +one of 'Medee's grandmothers, 'way back, must have been a squaw. +This kid looks exactly like the Indian babies." + +Angelique made a face at him, but old Mrs. Chevalier had been +touched on a sore point, and she let out such a stream of fiery +PATOIS that Emil fled from the kitchen and mounted his mare. + +Opening the pasture gate from the saddle, Emil rode across the field +to the clearing where the thresher stood, driven by a stationary +engine and fed from the header boxes. As Amedee was not on the +engine, Emil rode on to the wheatfield, where he recognized, on +the header, the slight, wiry figure of his friend, coatless, his +white shirt puffed out by the wind, his straw hat stuck jauntily +on the side of his head. The six big work-horses that drew, or +rather pushed, the header, went abreast at a rapid walk, and as they +were still green at the work they required a good deal of management +on Amedee's part; especially when they turned the corners, where +they divided, three and three, and then swung round into line again +with a movement that looked as complicated as a wheel of artillery. +Emil felt a new thrill of admiration for his friend, and with it +the old pang of envy at the way in which Amedee could do with his +might what his hand found to do, and feel that, whatever it was, +it was the most important thing in the world. "I'll have to bring +Alexandra up to see this thing work," Emil thought; "it's splendid!" + +When he saw Emil, Amedee waved to him and called to one of his +twenty cousins to take the reins. Stepping off the header without +stopping it, he ran up to Emil who had dismounted. "Come along," +he called. "I have to go over to the engine for a minute. I gotta +green man running it, and I gotta to keep an eye on him." + +Emil thought the lad was unnaturally flushed and more excited than +even the cares of managing a big farm at a critical time warranted. +As they passed behind a last year's stack, Amedee clutched at his +right side and sank down for a moment on the straw. + +"Ouch! I got an awful pain in me, Emil. Something's the matter +with my insides, for sure." + +Emil felt his fiery cheek. "You ought to go straight to bed, +'Medee, and telephone for the doctor; that's what you ought to do." + +Amedee staggered up with a gesture of despair. "How can I? I got +no time to be sick. Three thousand dollars' worth of new machinery +to manage, and the wheat so ripe it will begin to shatter next +week. My wheat's short, but it's gotta grand full berries. What's +he slowing down for? We haven't got header boxes enough to feed +the thresher, I guess." + +Amedee started hot-foot across the stubble, leaning a little to the +right as he ran, and waved to the engineer not to stop the engine. + +Emil saw that this was no time to talk about his own affairs. He +mounted his mare and rode on to Sainte-Agnes, to bid his friends +there good-bye. He went first to see Raoul Marcel, and found him +innocently practising the "Gloria" for the big confirmation service +on Sunday while he polished the mirrors of his father's saloon. + +As Emil rode homewards at three o'clock in the afternoon, he saw +Amedee staggering out of the wheatfield, supported by two of his +cousins. Emil stopped and helped them put the boy to bed. + + + +V + + +When Frank Shabata came in from work at five o'clock that evening, +old Moses Marcel, Raoul's father, telephoned him that Amedee had +had a seizure in the wheatfield, and that Doctor Paradis was going +to operate on him as soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help. +Frank dropped a word of this at the table, bolted his supper, and +rode off to Sainte-Agnes, where there would be sympathetic discussion +of Amedee's case at Marcel's saloon. + +As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned Alexandra. It was a +comfort to hear her friend's voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what there +was to be known about Amedee. Emil had been there when they carried +him out of the field, and had stayed with him until the doctors +operated for appendicitis at five o'clock. They were afraid it +was too late to do much good; it should have been done three days +ago. Amedee was in a very bad way. Emil had just come home, worn +out and sick himself. She had given him some brandy and put him +to bed. + +Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amedee's illness had taken on a +new meaning to her, now that she knew Emil had been with him. And +it might so easily have been the other way--Emil who was ill and +Amedee who was sad! Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room. +She had seldom felt so utterly lonely. If Emil was asleep, there +was not even a chance of his coming; and she could not go to +Alexandra for sympathy. She meant to tell Alexandra everything, +as soon as Emil went away. Then whatever was left between them +would be honest. + +But she could not stay in the house this evening. Where should she +go? She walked slowly down through the orchard, where the evening +air was heavy with the smell of wild cotton. The fresh, salty scent +of the wild roses had given way before this more powerful perfume +of midsummer. Wherever those ashes-of-rose balls hung on their +milky stalks, the air about them was saturated with their breath. +The sky was still red in the west and the evening star hung +directly over the Bergsons' wind-mill. Marie crossed the fence at +the wheatfield corner, and walked slowly along the path that led +to Alexandra's. She could not help feeling hurt that Emil had not +come to tell her about Amedee. It seemed to her most unnatural +that he should not have come. If she were in trouble, certainly +he was the one person in the world she would want to see. Perhaps +he wished her to understand that for her he was as good as gone +already. + +Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the path, like a white +night-moth out of the fields. The years seemed to stretch before +her like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always +the same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; +always the same yearning, the same pulling at the chain--until the +instinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last +time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously +be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted toward the remote, +inaccessible evening star. + +When she reached the stile she sat down and waited. How terrible +it was to love people when you could not really share their lives! + +Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was already gone. They +couldn't meet any more. There was nothing for them to say. They +had spent the last penny of their small change; there was nothing +left but gold. The day of love-tokens was past. They had now +only their hearts to give each other. And Emil being gone, what +was her life to be like? In some ways, it would be easier. She +would not, at least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were once +away and settled at work, she would not have the feeling that she +was spoiling his life. With the memory he left her, she could be +as rash as she chose. Nobody could be the worse for it but herself; +and that, surely, did not matter. Her own case was clear. When a +girl had loved one man, and then loved another while that man was +still alive, everybody knew what to think of her. What happened +to her was of little consequence, so long as she did not drag other +people down with her. Emil once away, she could let everything +else go and live a new life of perfect love. + +Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, after all, thought he +might come. And how glad she ought to be, she told herself, that +he was asleep. She left the path and went across the pasture. The +moon was almost full. An owl was hooting somewhere in the fields. +She had scarcely thought about where she was going when the pond +glittered before her, where Emil had shot the ducks. She stopped +and looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty way out of life, if +one chose to take it. But she did not want to die. She wanted to +live and dream--a hundred years, forever! As long as this sweetness +welled up in her heart, as long as her breast could hold this +treasure of pain! She felt as the pond must feel when it held the +moon like that; when it encircled and swelled with that image of +gold. + +In the morning, when Emil came down-stairs, Alexandra met him +in the sitting-room and put her hands on his shoulders. "Emil, I +went to your room as soon as it was light, but you were sleeping +so sound I hated to wake you. There was nothing you could do, so +I let you sleep. They telephoned from Sainte-Agnes that Amedee +died at three o'clock this morning." + + + +VI + + +The Church has always held that life is for the living. On Saturday, +while half the village of Sainte-Agnes was mourning for Amedee and +preparing the funeral black for his burial on Monday, the other +half was busy with white dresses and white veils for the great +confirmation service to-morrow, when the bishop was to confirm a +class of one hundred boys and girls. Father Duchesne divided his +time between the living and the dead. All day Saturday the church +was a scene of bustling activity, a little hushed by the thought +of Amedee. The choir were busy rehearsing a mass of Rossini, which +they had studied and practised for this occasion. The women were +trimming the altar, the boys and girls were bringing flowers. + +On Sunday morning the bishop was to drive overland to Sainte-Agnes +from Hanover, and Emil Bergson had been asked to take the place of +one of Amedee's cousins in the cavalcade of forty French boys who +were to ride across country to meet the bishop's carriage. At +six o'clock on Sunday morning the boys met at the church. As they +stood holding their horses by the bridle, they talked in low tones +of their dead comrade. They kept repeating that Amedee had always +been a good boy, glancing toward the red brick church which had +played so large a part in Amedee's life, had been the scene of his +most serious moments and of his happiest hours. He had played and +wrestled and sung and courted under its shadow. Only three weeks +ago he had proudly carried his baby there to be christened. They +could not doubt that that invisible arm was still about Amedee; that +through the church on earth he had passed to the church triumphant, +the goal of the hopes and faith of so many hundred years. + +When the word was given to mount, the young men rode at a walk out +of the village; but once out among the wheatfields in the morning +sun, their horses and their own youth got the better of them. A +wave of zeal and fiery enthusiasm swept over them. They longed +for a Jerusalem to deliver. The thud of their galloping hoofs +interrupted many a country breakfast and brought many a woman and +child to the door of the farmhouses as they passed. Five miles east +of Sainte-Agnes they met the bishop in his open carriage, attended +by two priests. Like one man the boys swung off their hats in a +broad salute, and bowed their heads as the handsome old man lifted +his two fingers in the episcopal blessing. The horsemen closed +about the carriage like a guard, and whenever a restless horse broke +from control and shot down the road ahead of the body, the bishop +laughed and rubbed his plump hands together. "What fine boys!" he +said to his priests. "The Church still has her cavalry." + +As the troop swept past the graveyard half a mile east of the +town,--the first frame church of the parish had stood there,--old +Pierre Seguin was already out with his pick and spade, digging +Amedee's grave. He knelt and uncovered as the bishop passed. The +boys with one accord looked away from old Pierre to the red church +on the hill, with the gold cross flaming on its steeple. + +Mass was at eleven. While the church was filling, Emil Bergson waited +outside, watching the wagons and buggies drive up the hill. After +the bell began to ring, he saw Frank Shabata ride up on horseback +and tie his horse to the hitch-bar. Marie, then, was not coming. +Emil turned and went into the church. Amedee's was the only empty +pew, and he sat down in it. Some of Amedee's cousins were there, +dressed in black and weeping. When all the pews were full, the +old men and boys packed the open space at the back of the church, +kneeling on the floor. There was scarcely a family in town that was +not represented in the confirmation class, by a cousin, at least. +The new communicants, with their clear, reverent faces, were beautiful +to look upon as they entered in a body and took the front benches +reserved for them. Even before the Mass began, the air was charged +with feeling. The choir had never sung so well and Raoul Marcel, +in the "Gloria," drew even the bishop's eyes to the organ loft. +For the offertory he sang Gounod's "Ave Maria,"--always spoken of +in Sainte-Agnes as "the Ave Maria." + +Emil began to torture himself with questions about Marie. Was she +ill? Had she quarreled with her husband? Was she too unhappy to +find comfort even here? Had she, perhaps, thought that he would +come to her? Was she waiting for him? Overtaxed by excitement +and sorrow as he was, the rapture of the service took hold upon his +body and mind. As he listened to Raoul, he seemed to emerge from +the conflicting emotions which had been whirling him about and +sucking him under. He felt as if a clear light broke upon his +mind, and with it a conviction that good was, after all, stronger +than evil, and that good was possible to men. He seemed to discover +that there was a kind of rapture in which he could love forever +without faltering and without sin. He looked across the heads of +the people at Frank Shabata with calmness. That rapture was for those +who could feel it; for people who could not, it was non-existent. +He coveted nothing that was Frank Shabata's. The spirit he had +met in music was his own. Frank Shabata had never found it; would +never find it if he lived beside it a thousand years; would have +destroyed it if he had found it, as Herod slew the innocents, as +Rome slew the martyrs. + +SAN--CTA MARI-I-I-A, + +wailed Raoul from the organ loft; + +O--RA PRO NO-O-BIS! + +And it did not occur to Emil that any one had ever reasoned thus +before, that music had ever before given a man this equivocal +revelation. + +The confirmation service followed the Mass. When it was over, the +congregation thronged about the newly confirmed. The girls, and +even the boys, were kissed and embraced and wept over. All the +aunts and grandmothers wept with joy. The housewives had much ado +to tear themselves away from the general rejoicing and hurry back +to their kitchens. The country parishioners were staying in town +for dinner, and nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes entertained +visitors that day. Father Duchesne, the bishop, and the visiting +priests dined with Fabien Sauvage, the banker. Emil and Frank +Shabata were both guests of old Moise Marcel. After dinner Frank +and old Moise retired to the rear room of the saloon to play +California Jack and drink their cognac, and Emil went over to the +banker's with Raoul, who had been asked to sing for the bishop. + +At three o'clock, Emil felt that he could stand it no longer. He +slipped out under cover of "The Holy City," followed by Malvina's +wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. He was at that +height of excitement from which everything is foreshortened, from +which life seems short and simple, death very near, and the soul +seems to soar like an eagle. As he rode past the graveyard he looked +at the brown hole in the earth where Amedee was to lie, and felt +no horror. That, too, was beautiful, that simple doorway into +forgetfulness. The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for +that brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old +and the poor and the maimed who shrink from that brown hole; its +wooers are found among the young, the passionate, the gallant-hearted. +It was not until he had passed the graveyard that Emil realized +where he was going. It was the hour for saying good-bye. It might +be the last time that he would see her alone, and today he could +leave her without rancor, without bitterness. + +Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of +the smell of the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an +oven. The breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed him like +pleasant things in a dream. He could feel nothing but the sense of +diminishing distance. It seemed to him that his mare was flying, +or running on wheels, like a railway train. The sunlight, flashing +on the window-glass of the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. +He was like an arrow shot from the bow. His life poured itself +out along the road before him as he rode to the Shabata farm. + +When Emil alighted at the Shabatas' gate, his horse was in a lather. +He tied her in the stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. +She might be at Mrs. Hiller's or with Alexandra. But anything +that reminded him of her would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry +tree. . . When he reached the orchard the sun was hanging low over +the wheatfield. Long fingers of light reached through the apple +branches as through a net; the orchard was riddled and shot with +gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely interferences +that reflected and refracted light. Emil went softly down between +the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. When he came to the corner, +he stopped short and put his hand over his mouth. Marie was lying +on her side under the white mulberry tree, her face half hidden in +the grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply where they had +happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new life of perfect +love, and it had left her like this. Her breast rose and fell +faintly, as if she were asleep. Emil threw himself down beside +her and took her in his arms. The blood came back to her cheeks, +her amber eyes opened slowly, and in them Emil saw his own face +and the orchard and the sun. "I was dreaming this," she whispered, +hiding her face against him, "don't take my dream away!" + + + +VII + + +When Frank Shabata got home that night, he found Emil's mare in +his stable. Such an impertinence amazed him. Like everybody else, +Frank had had an exciting day. Since noon he had been drinking too +much, and he was in a bad temper. He talked bitterly to himself +while he put his own horse away, and as he went up the path and +saw that the house was dark he felt an added sense of injury. He +approached quietly and listened on the doorstep. Hearing nothing, +he opened the kitchen door and went softly from one room to another. +Then he went through the house again, upstairs and down, with no +better result. He sat down on the bottom step of the box stairway +and tried to get his wits together. In that unnatural quiet there +was no sound but his own heavy breathing. Suddenly an owl began +to hoot out in the fields. Frank lifted his head. An idea flashed +into his mind, and his sense of injury and outrage grew. He went +into his bedroom and took his murderous 405 Winchester from the +closet. + +When Frank took up his gun and walked out of the house, he had not +the faintest purpose of doing anything with it. He did not believe +that he had any real grievance. But it gratified him to feel like +a desperate man. He had got into the habit of seeing himself always +in desperate straits. His unhappy temperament was like a cage; he +could never get out of it; and he felt that other people, his wife +in particular, must have put him there. It had never more than +dimly occurred to Frank that he made his own unhappiness. Though +he took up his gun with dark projects in his mind, he would have +been paralyzed with fright had he known that there was the slightest +probability of his ever carrying any of them out. + +Frank went slowly down to the orchard gate, stopped and stood for +a moment lost in thought. He retraced his steps and looked through +the barn and the hayloft. Then he went out to the road, where he +took the foot-path along the outside of the orchard hedge. The +hedge was twice as tall as Frank himself, and so dense that one +could see through it only by peering closely between the leaves. +He could see the empty path a long way in the moonlight. His mind +traveled ahead to the stile, which he always thought of as haunted +by Emil Bergson. But why had he left his horse? + +At the wheatfield corner, where the orchard hedge ended and the +path led across the pasture to the Bergsons', Frank stopped. In +the warm, breathless night air he heard a murmuring sound, perfectly +inarticulate, as low as the sound of water coming from a spring, +where there is no fall, and where there are no stones to fret it. +Frank strained his ears. It ceased. He held his breath and began +to tremble. Resting the butt of his gun on the ground, he parted +the mulberry leaves softly with his fingers and peered through +the hedge at the dark figures on the grass, in the shadow of the +mulberry tree. It seemed to him that they must feel his eyes, +that they must hear him breathing. But they did not. Frank, who +had always wanted to see things blacker than they were, for once +wanted to believe less than he saw. The woman lying in the shadow +might so easily be one of the Bergsons' farm-girls. . . . Again +the murmur, like water welling out of the ground. This time he +heard it more distinctly, and his blood was quicker than his brain. +He began to act, just as a man who falls into the fire begins to +act. The gun sprang to his shoulder, he sighted mechanically and +fired three times without stopping, stopped without knowing why. +Either he shut his eyes or he had vertigo. He did not see anything +while he was firing. He thought he heard a cry simultaneous with +the second report, but he was not sure. He peered again through +the hedge, at the two dark figures under the tree. They had fallen +a little apart from each other, and were perfectly still-- No, +not quite; in a white patch of light, where the moon shone through +the branches, a man's hand was plucking spasmodically at the grass. + +Suddenly the woman stirred and uttered a cry, then another, and +another. She was living! She was dragging herself toward the +hedge! Frank dropped his gun and ran back along the path, shaking, +stumbling, gasping. He had never imagined such horror. The +cries followed him. They grew fainter and thicker, as if she were +choking. He dropped on his knees beside the hedge and crouched +like a rabbit, listening; fainter, fainter; a sound like a whine; +again--a moan--another--silence. Frank scrambled to his feet and +ran on, groaning and praying. From habit he went toward the house, +where he was used to being soothed when he had worked himself into +a frenzy, but at the sight of the black, open door, he started back. +He knew that he had murdered somebody, that a woman was bleeding +and moaning in the orchard, but he had not realized before that +it was his wife. The gate stared him in the face. He threw his +hands over his head. Which way to turn? He lifted his tormented +face and looked at the sky. "Holy Mother of God, not to suffer! +She was a good girl--not to suffer!" + +Frank had been wont to see himself in dramatic situations; but +now, when he stood by the windmill, in the bright space between the +barn and the house, facing his own black doorway, he did not see +himself at all. He stood like the hare when the dogs are approaching +from all sides. And he ran like a hare, back and forth about that +moonlit space, before he could make up his mind to go into the +dark stable for a horse. The thought of going into a doorway was +terrible to him. He caught Emil's horse by the bit and led it out. +He could not have buckled a bridle on his own. After two or three +attempts, he lifted himself into the saddle and started for Hanover. +If he could catch the one o'clock train, he had money enough to +get as far as Omaha. + +While he was thinking dully of this in some less sensitized part +of his brain, his acuter faculties were going over and over the +cries he had heard in the orchard. Terror was the only thing that +kept him from going back to her, terror that she might still be +she, that she might still be suffering. A woman, mutilated and +bleeding in his orchard--it was because it was a woman that he +was so afraid. It was inconceivable that he should have hurt a +woman. He would rather be eaten by wild beasts than see her move +on the ground as she had moved in the orchard. Why had she been +so careless? She knew he was like a crazy man when he was angry. +She had more than once taken that gun away from him and held it, +when he was angry with other people. Once it had gone off while +they were struggling over it. She was never afraid. But, when +she knew him, why hadn't she been more careful? Didn't she have +all summer before her to love Emil Bergson in, without taking such +chances? Probably she had met the Smirka boy, too, down there in +the orchard. He didn't care. She could have met all the men on the +Divide there, and welcome, if only she hadn't brought this horror +on him. + +There was a wrench in Frank's mind. He did not honestly believe that +of her. He knew that he was doing her wrong. He stopped his horse +to admit this to himself the more directly, to think it out the more +clearly. He knew that he was to blame. For three years he had been +trying to break her spirit. She had a way of making the best of +things that seemed to him a sentimental affectation. He wanted his +wife to resent that he was wasting his best years among these stupid +and unappreciative people; but she had seemed to find the people +quite good enough. If he ever got rich he meant to buy her pretty +clothes and take her to California in a Pullman car, and treat her +like a lady; but in the mean time he wanted her to feel that life was +as ugly and as unjust as he felt it. He had tried to make her life +ugly. He had refused to share any of the little pleasures she was so +plucky about making for herself. She could be gay about the least +thing in the world; but she must be gay! When she first came to him, +her faith in him, her adoration--Frank struck the mare with his fist. +Why had Marie made him do this thing; why had she brought this upon +him? He was overwhelmed by sickening misfortune. All at once he +heard her cries again--he had forgotten for a moment. "Maria," he +sobbed aloud, "Maria!" + +When Frank was halfway to Hanover, the motion of his horse brought +on a violent attack of nausea. After it had passed, he rode on +again, but he could think of nothing except his physical weakness +and his desire to be comforted by his wife. He wanted to get into +his own bed. Had his wife been at home, he would have turned and +gone back to her meekly enough. + + + +VIII + + +When old Ivar climbed down from his loft at four o'clock the next +morning, he came upon Emil's mare, jaded and lather-stained, her +bridle broken, chewing the scattered tufts of hay outside the stable +door. The old man was thrown into a fright at once. He put the +mare in her stall, threw her a measure of oats, and then set out +as fast as his bow-legs could carry him on the path to the nearest +neighbor. + +"Something is wrong with that boy. Some misfortune has come upon +us. He would never have used her so, in his right senses. It is +not his way to abuse his mare," the old man kept muttering, as he +scuttled through the short, wet pasture grass on his bare feet. + +While Ivar was hurrying across the fields, the first long rays of +the sun were reaching down between the orchard boughs to those two +dew-drenched figures. The story of what had happened was written +plainly on the orchard grass, and on the white mulberries that had +fallen in the night and were covered with dark stain. For Emil the +chapter had been short. He was shot in the heart, and had rolled +over on his back and died. His face was turned up to the sky and +his brows were drawn in a frown, as if he had realized that something +had befallen him. But for Marie Shabata it had not been so easy. +One ball had torn through her right lung, another had shattered +the carotid artery. She must have started up and gone toward the +hedge, leaving a trail of blood. There she had fallen and bled. +From that spot there was another trail, heavier than the first, +where she must have dragged herself back to Emil's body. Once +there, she seemed not to have struggled any more. She had lifted +her head to her lover's breast, taken his hand in both her own, +and bled quietly to death. She was lying on her right side in an +easy and natural position, her cheek on Emil's shoulder. On her +face there was a look of ineffable content. Her lips were parted +a little; her eyes were lightly closed, as if in a day-dream or a +light slumber. After she lay down there, she seemed not to have +moved an eyelash. The hand she held was covered with dark stains, +where she had kissed it. + +But the stained, slippery grass, the darkened mulberries, told only +half the story. Above Marie and Emil, two white butterflies from +Frank's alfalfa-field were fluttering in and out among the interlacing +shadows; diving and soaring, now close together, now far apart; +and in the long grass by the fence the last wild roses of the year +opened their pink hearts to die. + +When Ivar reached the path by the hedge, he saw Shabata's rifle +lying in the way. He turned and peered through the branches, +falling upon his knees as if his legs had been mowed from under +him. "Merciful God!" he groaned; + +Alexandra, too, had risen early that morning, because of her anxiety +about Emil. She was in Emil's room upstairs when, from the window, +she saw Ivar coming along the path that led from the Shabatas'. +He was running like a spent man, tottering and lurching from side +to side. Ivar never drank, and Alexandra thought at once that one +of his spells had come upon him, and that he must be in a very bad +way indeed. She ran downstairs and hurried out to meet him, to +hide his infirmity from the eyes of her household. The old man +fell in the road at her feet and caught her hand, over which he +bowed his shaggy head. "Mistress, mistress," he sobbed, "it has +fallen! Sin and death for the young ones! God have mercy upon +us!" + + + + +PART V + +Alexandra + + + + +I + + +Ivar was sitting at a cobbler's bench in the barn, mending harness +by the light of a lantern and repeating to himself the 101st Psalm. +It was only five o'clock of a mid-October day, but a storm had +come up in the afternoon, bringing black clouds, a cold wind and +torrents of rain. The old man wore his buffalo-skin coat, and +occasionally stopped to warm his fingers at the lantern. Suddenly +a woman burst into the shed, as if she had been blown in, accompanied by +a shower of rain-drops. It was Signa, wrapped in a man's overcoat +and wearing a pair of boots over her shoes. In time of trouble +Signa had come back to stay with her mistress, for she was the only +one of the maids from whom Alexandra would accept much personal +service. It was three months now since the news of the terrible +thing that had happened in Frank Shabata's orchard had first run +like a fire over the Divide. Signa and Nelse were staying on with +Alexandra until winter. + +"Ivar," Signa exclaimed as she wiped the rain from her face, "do +you know where she is?" + +The old man put down his cobbler's knife. "Who, the mistress?" + +"Yes. She went away about three o'clock. I happened to look out +of the window and saw her going across the fields in her thin dress +and sun-hat. And now this storm has come on. I thought she was +going to Mrs. Hiller's, and I telephoned as soon as the thunder +stopped, but she had not been there. I'm afraid she is out somewhere +and will get her death of cold." + +Ivar put on his cap and took up the lantern. "JA, JA, we will see. +I will hitch the boy's mare to the cart and go." + +Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses' stable. +She was shivering with cold and excitement. "Where do you suppose +she can be, Ivar?" + +The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg. +"How should I know?" + +"But you think she is at the graveyard, don't you?" Signa persisted. +"So do I. Oh, I wish she would be more like herself! I can't +believe it's Alexandra Bergson come to this, with no head about +anything. I have to tell her when to eat and when to go to bed." + +"Patience, patience, sister," muttered Ivar as he settled the bit +in the horse's mouth. "When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the +eyes of the spirit are open. She will have a message from those +who are gone, and that will bring her peace. Until then we must +bear with her. You and I are the only ones who have weight with +her. She trusts us." + +"How awful it's been these last three months." Signa held the +lantern so that he could see to buckle the straps. "It don't seem +right that we must all be so miserable. Why do we all have to be +punished? Seems to me like good times would never come again." + +Ivar expressed himself in a deep sigh, but said nothing. He stooped +and took a sandburr from his toe. + +"Ivar," Signa asked suddenly, "will you tell me why you go barefoot? +All the time I lived here in the house I wanted to ask you. Is it +for a penance, or what?" + +"No, sister. It is for the indulgence of the body. From my youth +up I have had a strong, rebellious body, and have been subject to +every kind of temptation. Even in age my temptations are prolonged. +It was necessary to make some allowances; and the feet, as I +understand it, are free members. There is no divine prohibition +for them in the Ten Commandments. The hands, the tongue, the eyes, +the heart, all the bodily desires we are commanded to subdue; but +the feet are free members. I indulge them without harm to any +one, even to trampling in filth when my desires are low. They are +quickly cleaned again." + +Signa did not laugh. She looked thoughtful as she followed Ivar out +to the wagon-shed and held the shafts up for him, while he backed +in the mare and buckled the hold-backs. "You have been a good +friend to the mistress, Ivar," she murmured. + +"And you, God be with you," replied Ivar as he clambered into the +cart and put the lantern under the oilcloth lap-cover. "Now for +a ducking, my girl," he said to the mare, gathering up the reins. + +As they emerged from the shed, a stream of water, running off the +thatch, struck the mare on the neck. She tossed her head indignantly, +then struck out bravely on the soft ground, slipping back again and +again as she climbed the hill to the main road. Between the rain +and the darkness Ivar could see very little, so he let Emil's mare +have the rein, keeping her head in the right direction. When the +ground was level, he turned her out of the dirt road upon the sod, +where she was able to trot without slipping. + +Before Ivar reached the graveyard, three miles from the house, +the storm had spent itself, and the downpour had died into a soft, +dripping rain. The sky and the land were a dark smoke color, and +seemed to be coming together, like two waves. When Ivar stopped +at the gate and swung out his lantern, a white figure rose from +beside John Bergson's white stone. + +The old man sprang to the ground and shuffled toward the gate +calling, "Mistress, mistress!" + +Alexandra hurried to meet him and put her hand on his shoulder. +"TYST! Ivar. There's nothing to be worried about. I'm sorry if +I've scared you all. I didn't notice the storm till it was on me, +and I couldn't walk against it. I'm glad you've come. I am so +tired I didn't know how I'd ever get home." + +Ivar swung the lantern up so that it shone in her face. "GUD! +You are enough to frighten us, mistress. You look like a drowned +woman. How could you do such a thing!" + +Groaning and mumbling he led her out of the gate and helped her +into the cart, wrapping her in the dry blankets on which he had +been sitting. + +Alexandra smiled at his solicitude. "Not much use in that, Ivar. +You will only shut the wet in. I don't feel so cold now; but I'm +heavy and numb. I'm glad you came." + +Ivar turned the mare and urged her into a sliding trot. Her feet +sent back a continual spatter of mud. + +Alexandra spoke to the old man as they jogged along through the +sullen gray twilight of the storm. "Ivar, I think it has done me +good to get cold clear through like this, once. I don't believe +I shall suffer so much any more. When you get so near the dead, +they seem more real than the living. Worldly thoughts leave one. +Ever since Emil died, I've suffered so when it rained. Now that +I've been out in it with him, I shan't dread it. After you once +get cold clear through, the feeling of the rain on you is sweet. +It seems to bring back feelings you had when you were a baby. It +carries you back into the dark, before you were born; you can't +see things, but they come to you, somehow, and you know them and +aren't afraid of them. Maybe it's like that with the dead. If +they feel anything at all, it's the old things, before they were +born, that comfort people like the feeling of their own bed does +when they are little." + +"Mistress," said Ivar reproachfully, "those are bad thoughts. The +dead are in Paradise." + +Then he hung his head, for he did not believe that Emil was in +Paradise. + +When they got home, Signa had a fire burning in the sitting-room +stove. She undressed Alexandra and gave her a hot footbath, while +Ivar made ginger tea in the kitchen. When Alexandra was in bed, +wrapped in hot blankets, Ivar came in with his tea and saw that +she drank it. Signa asked permission to sleep on the slat lounge +outside her door. Alexandra endured their attentions patiently, +but she was glad when they put out the lamp and left her. As she +lay alone in the dark, it occurred to her for the first time that +perhaps she was actually tired of life. All the physical operations +of life seemed difficult and painful. She longed to be free from +her own body, which ached and was so heavy. And longing itself +was heavy: she yearned to be free of that. + +As she lay with her eyes closed, she had again, more vividly than +for many years, the old illusion of her girlhood, of being lifted +and carried lightly by some one very strong. He was with her +a long while this time, and carried her very far, and in his arms +she felt free from pain. When he laid her down on her bed again, +she opened her eyes, and, for the first time in her life, she saw +him, saw him clearly, though the room was dark, and his face was +covered. He was standing in the doorway of her room. His white +cloak was thrown over his face, and his head was bent a little +forward. His shoulders seemed as strong as the foundations of the +world. His right arm, bared from the elbow, was dark and gleaming, +like bronze, and she knew at once that it was the arm of the +mightiest of all lovers. She knew at last for whom it was she had +waited, and where he would carry her. That, she told herself, was +very well. Then she went to sleep. + +Alexandra wakened in the morning with nothing worse than a hard cold +and a stiff shoulder. She kept her bed for several days, and it +was during that time that she formed a resolution to go to Lincoln +to see Frank Shabata. Ever since she last saw him in the courtroom, +Frank's haggard face and wild eyes had haunted her. The trial had +lasted only three days. Frank had given himself up to the police +in Omaha and pleaded guilty of killing without malice and without +premeditation. The gun was, of course, against him, and the judge +had given him the full sentence,--ten years. He had now been in +the State Penitentiary for a month. + +Frank was the only one, Alexandra told herself, for whom anything +could be done. He had been less in the wrong than any of them, +and he was paying the heaviest penalty. She often felt that she +herself had been more to blame than poor Frank. From the time the +Shabatas had first moved to the neighboring farm, she had omitted +no opportunity of throwing Marie and Emil together. Because she +knew Frank was surly about doing little things to help his wife, +she was always sending Emil over to spade or plant or carpenter +for Marie. She was glad to have Emil see as much as possible of an +intelligent, city-bred girl like their neighbor; she noticed that +it improved his manners. She knew that Emil was fond of Marie, but +it had never occurred to her that Emil's feeling might be different +from her own. She wondered at herself now, but she had never +thought of danger in that direction. If Marie had been unmarried,--oh, +yes! Then she would have kept her eyes open. But the mere fact that +she was Shabata's wife, for Alexandra, settled everything. That she was +beautiful, impulsive, barely two years older than Emil, these facts had +had no weight with Alexandra. Emil was a good boy, and only bad boys +ran after married women. + +Now, Alexandra could in a measure realize that Marie was, after +all, Marie; not merely a "married woman." Sometimes, when Alexandra +thought of her, it was with an aching tenderness. The moment she +had reached them in the orchard that morning, everything was clear +to her. There was something about those two lying in the grass, +something in the way Marie had settled her cheek on Emil's shoulder, +that told her everything. She wondered then how they could have +helped loving each other; how she could have helped knowing that +they must. Emil's cold, frowning face, the girl's content--Alexandra +had felt awe of them, even in the first shock of her grief. + +The idleness of those days in bed, the relaxation of body which +attended them, enabled Alexandra to think more calmly than she had +done since Emil's death. She and Frank, she told herself, were left +out of that group of friends who had been overwhelmed by disaster. +She must certainly see Frank Shabata. Even in the courtroom her +heart had grieved for him. He was in a strange country, he had no +kinsmen or friends, and in a moment he had ruined his life. Being +what he was, she felt, Frank could not have acted otherwise. She +could understand his behavior more easily than she could understand +Marie's. Yes, she must go to Lincoln to see Frank Shabata. + +The day after Emil's funeral, Alexandra had written to Carl Linstrum; +a single page of notepaper, a bare statement of what had happened. +She was not a woman who could write much about such a thing, and +about her own feelings she could never write very freely. She knew +that Carl was away from post-offices, prospecting somewhere in the +interior. Before he started he had written her where he expected +to go, but her ideas about Alaska were vague. As the weeks went +by and she heard nothing from him, it seemed to Alexandra that +her heart grew hard against Carl. She began to wonder whether she +would not do better to finish her life alone. What was left of +life seemed unimportant. + + + +II + + +Late in the afternoon of a brilliant October day, Alexandra Bergson, +dressed in a black suit and traveling-hat, alighted at the Burlington +depot in Lincoln. She drove to the Lindell Hotel, where she had +stayed two years ago when she came up for Emil's Commencement. In +spite of her usual air of sureness and self-possession, Alexandra +felt ill at ease in hotels, and she was glad, when she went to the +clerk's desk to register, that there were not many people in the +lobby. She had her supper early, wearing her hat and black jacket +down to the dining-room and carrying her handbag. After supper +she went out for a walk. + +It was growing dark when she reached the university campus. She +did not go into the grounds, but walked slowly up and down the +stone walk outside the long iron fence, looking through at the young +men who were running from one building to another, at the lights +shining from the armory and the library. A squad of cadets were +going through their drill behind the armory, and the commands of +their young officer rang out at regular intervals, so sharp and +quick that Alexandra could not understand them. Two stalwart girls +came down the library steps and out through one of the iron gates. +As they passed her, Alexandra was pleased to hear them speaking +Bohemian to each other. Every few moments a boy would come running +down the flagged walk and dash out into the street as if he were +rushing to announce some wonder to the world. Alexandra felt a +great tenderness for them all. She wished one of them would stop +and speak to her. She wished she could ask them whether they had +known Emil. + +As she lingered by the south gate she actually did encounter one +of the boys. He had on his drill cap and was swinging his books +at the end of a long strap. It was dark by this time; he did not +see her and ran against her. He snatched off his cap and stood +bareheaded and panting. "I'm awfully sorry," he said in a bright, +clear voice, with a rising inflection, as if he expected her to +say something. + +"Oh, it was my fault!" said Alexandra eagerly. "Are you an old +student here, may I ask?" + +"No, ma'am. I'm a Freshie, just off the farm. Cherry County. +Were you hunting somebody?" + +"No, thank you. That is--" Alexandra wanted to detain him. "That +is, I would like to find some of my brother's friends. He graduated +two years ago." + +"Then you'd have to try the Seniors, wouldn't you? Let's see; I +don't know any of them yet, but there'll be sure to be some of them +around the library. That red building, right there," he pointed. + +"Thank you, I'll try there," said Alexandra lingeringly. + +"Oh, that's all right! Good-night." The lad clapped his cap on +his head and ran straight down Eleventh Street. Alexandra looked +after him wistfully. + +She walked back to her hotel unreasonably comforted. "What a nice +voice that boy had, and how polite he was. I know Emil was always +like that to women." And again, after she had undressed and was +standing in her nightgown, brushing her long, heavy hair by the +electric light, she remembered him and said to herself, "I don't +think I ever heard a nicer voice than that boy had. I hope he +will get on well here. Cherry County; that's where the hay is so +fine, and the coyotes can scratch down to water." + +At nine o'clock the next morning Alexandra presented herself +at the warden's office in the State Penitentiary. The warden was +a German, a ruddy, cheerful-looking man who had formerly been a +harness-maker. Alexandra had a letter to him from the German banker +in Hanover. As he glanced at the letter, Mr. Schwartz put away +his pipe. + +"That big Bohemian, is it? Sure, he's gettin' along fine," said +Mr. Schwartz cheerfully. + +"I am glad to hear that. I was afraid he might be quarrelsome and +get himself into more trouble. Mr. Schwartz, if you have time, I +would like to tell you a little about Frank Shabata, and why I am +interested in him." + +The warden listened genially while she told him briefly something +of Frank's history and character, but he did not seem to find +anything unusual in her account. + +"Sure, I'll keep an eye on him. We'll take care of him all right," +he said, rising. "You can talk to him here, while I go to see to +things in the kitchen. I'll have him sent in. He ought to be done +washing out his cell by this time. We have to keep 'em clean, you +know." + +The warden paused at the door, speaking back over his shoulder to +a pale young man in convicts' clothes who was seated at a desk in +the corner, writing in a big ledger. + +"Bertie, when 1037 is brought in, you just step out and give this +lady a chance to talk." + +The young man bowed his head and bent over his ledger again. + +When Mr. Schwartz disappeared, Alexandra thrust her black-edged +handkerchief nervously into her handbag. Coming out on the streetcar +she had not had the least dread of meeting Frank. But since she +had been here the sounds and smells in the corridor, the look of the +men in convicts' clothes who passed the glass door of the warden's +office, affected her unpleasantly. + +The warden's clock ticked, the young convict's pen scratched +busily in the big book, and his sharp shoulders were shaken every +few seconds by a loose cough which he tried to smother. It was easy +to see that he was a sick man. Alexandra looked at him timidly, +but he did not once raise his eyes. He wore a white shirt under +his striped jacket, a high collar, and a necktie, very carefully +tied. His hands were thin and white and well cared for, and he had +a seal ring on his little finger. When he heard steps approaching +in the corridor, he rose, blotted his book, put his pen in the rack, +and left the room without raising his eyes. Through the door he +opened a guard came in, bringing Frank Shabata. + +"You the lady that wanted to talk to 1037? Here he is. Be on your +good behavior, now. He can set down, lady," seeing that Alexandra +remained standing. "Push that white button when you're through +with him, and I'll come." + +The guard went out and Alexandra and Frank were left alone. + +Alexandra tried not to see his hideous clothes. She tried to look +straight into his face, which she could scarcely believe was his. +It was already bleached to a chalky gray. His lips were colorless, +his fine teeth looked yellowish. He glanced at Alexandra sullenly, +blinked as if he had come from a dark place, and one eyebrow twitched +continually. She felt at once that this interview was a terrible +ordeal to him. His shaved head, showing the conformation of his +skull, gave him a criminal look which he had not had during the +trial. + +Alexandra held out her hand. "Frank," she said, her eyes filling +suddenly, "I hope you'll let me be friendly with you. I understand +how you did it. I don't feel hard toward you. They were more to +blame than you." + +Frank jerked a dirty blue handkerchief from his trousers pocket. +He had begun to cry. He turned away from Alexandra. "I never +did mean to do not'ing to dat woman," he muttered. "I never mean +to do not'ing to dat boy. I ain't had not'ing ag'in' dat boy. I +always like dat boy fine. An' then I find him--" He stopped. The +feeling went out of his face and eyes. He dropped into a chair +and sat looking stolidly at the floor, his hands hanging loosely +between his knees, the handkerchief lying across his striped leg. +He seemed to have stirred up in his mind a disgust that had paralyzed +his faculties. + +"I haven't come up here to blame you, Frank. I think they were +more to blame than you." Alexandra, too, felt benumbed. + +Frank looked up suddenly and stared out of the office window. "I +guess dat place all go to hell what I work so hard on," he said +with a slow, bitter smile. "I not care a damn." He stopped and +rubbed the palm of his hand over the light bristles on his head +with annoyance. "I no can t'ink without my hair," he complained. +"I forget English. We not talk here, except swear." + +Alexandra was bewildered. Frank seemed to have undergone a change +of personality. There was scarcely anything by which she could +recognize her handsome Bohemian neighbor. He seemed, somehow, not +altogether human. She did not know what to say to him. + +"You do not feel hard to me, Frank?" she asked at last. + +Frank clenched his fist and broke out in excitement. "I not feel +hard at no woman. I tell you I not that kind-a man. I never hit +my wife. No, never I hurt her when she devil me something awful!" +He struck his fist down on the warden's desk so hard that he +afterward stroked it absently. A pale pink crept over his neck and +face. "Two, t'ree years I know dat woman don' care no more 'bout +me, Alexandra Bergson. I know she after some other man. I know +her, oo-oo! An' I ain't never hurt her. I never would-a done +dat, if I ain't had dat gun along. I don' know what in hell make +me take dat gun. She always say I ain't no man to carry gun. If +she been in dat house, where she ought-a been-- But das a foolish +talk." + +Frank rubbed his head and stopped suddenly, as he had stopped +before. Alexandra felt that there was something strange in the way +he chilled off, as if something came up in him that extinguished +his power of feeling or thinking. + +"Yes, Frank," she said kindly. "I know you never meant to hurt +Marie." + +Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled slowly with tears. +"You know, I most forgit dat woman's name. She ain't got no name +for me no more. I never hate my wife, but dat woman what make me +do dat-- Honest to God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I +don' want to kill no boy and no woman. I not care how many men +she take under dat tree. I no care for not'ing but dat fine boy +I kill, Alexandra Bergson. I guess I go crazy sure 'nough." + +Alexandra remembered the little yellow cane she had found in Frank's +clothes-closet. She thought of how he had come to this country a +gay young fellow, so attractive that the prettiest Bohemian girl +in Omaha had run away with him. It seemed unreasonable that life +should have landed him in such a place as this. She blamed Marie +bitterly. And why, with her happy, affectionate nature, should +she have brought destruction and sorrow to all who had loved her, +even to poor old Joe Tovesky, the uncle who used to carry her about +so proudly when she was a little girl? That was the strangest thing +of all. Was there, then, something wrong in being warm-hearted +and impulsive like that? Alexandra hated to think so. But there +was Emil, in the Norwegian graveyard at home, and here was Frank +Shabata. Alexandra rose and took him by the hand. + +"Frank Shabata, I am never going to stop trying until I get you +pardoned. I'll never give the Governor any peace. I know I can +get you out of this place." + +Frank looked at her distrustfully, but he gathered confidence from +her face. "Alexandra," he said earnestly, "if I git out-a here, +I not trouble dis country no more. I go back where I come from; +see my mother." + +Alexandra tried to withdraw her hand, but Frank held on to it +nervously. He put out his finger and absently touched a button +on her black jacket. "Alexandra," he said in a low tone, looking +steadily at the button, "you ain' t'ink I use dat girl awful bad +before--" + +"No, Frank. We won't talk about that," Alexandra said, pressing +his hand. "I can't help Emil now, so I'm going to do what I can +for you. You know I don't go away from home often, and I came up +here on purpose to tell you this." + +The warden at the glass door looked in inquiringly. Alexandra +nodded, and he came in and touched the white button on his desk. +The guard appeared, and with a sinking heart Alexandra saw Frank +led away down the corridor. After a few words with Mr. Schwartz, +she left the prison and made her way to the street-car. She had +refused with horror the warden's cordial invitation to "go through +the institution." As the car lurched over its uneven roadbed, back +toward Lincoln, Alexandra thought of how she and Frank had been +wrecked by the same storm and of how, although she could come out +into the sunlight, she had not much more left in her life than +he. She remembered some lines from a poem she had liked in her +schooldays:-- + + Henceforth the world will only be + A wider prison-house to me,-- + +and sighed. A disgust of life weighed upon her heart; some such +feeling as had twice frozen Frank Shabata's features while they +talked together. She wished she were back on the Divide. + +When Alexandra entered her hotel, the clerk held up one finger +and beckoned to her. As she approached his desk, he handed her a +telegram. Alexandra took the yellow envelope and looked at it in +perplexity, then stepped into the elevator without opening it. As +she walked down the corridor toward her room, she reflected that +she was, in a manner, immune from evil tidings. On reaching her +room she locked the door, and sitting down on a chair by the dresser, +opened the telegram. It was from Hanover, and it read:-- + + + Arrived Hanover last night. Shall wait here until you come. + Please hurry. CARL LINSTRUM. + +Alexandra put her head down on the dresser and burst into tears. + + + +III + + +The next afternoon Carl and Alexandra were walking across the fields +from Mrs. Hiller's. Alexandra had left Lincoln after midnight, +and Carl had met her at the Hanover station early in the morning. +After they reached home, Alexandra had gone over to Mrs. Hiller's +to leave a little present she had bought for her in the city. They +stayed at the old lady's door but a moment, and then came out to +spend the rest of the afternoon in the sunny fields. + +Alexandra had taken off her black traveling suit and put on +a white dress; partly because she saw that her black clothes made +Carl uncomfortable and partly because she felt oppressed by them +herself. They seemed a little like the prison where she had worn +them yesterday, and to be out of place in the open fields. Carl +had changed very little. His cheeks were browner and fuller. He +looked less like a tired scholar than when he went away a year ago, +but no one, even now, would have taken him for a man of business. +His soft, lustrous black eyes, his whimsical smile, would be less +against him in the Klondike than on the Divide. There are always +dreamers on the frontier. + +Carl and Alexandra had been talking since morning. Her letter had +never reached him. He had first learned of her misfortune from +a San Francisco paper, four weeks old, which he had picked up in +a saloon, and which contained a brief account of Frank Shabata's +trial. When he put down the paper, he had already made up his +mind that he could reach Alexandra as quickly as a letter could; +and ever since he had been on the way; day and night, by the fastest +boats and trains he could catch. His steamer had been held back +two days by rough weather. + +As they came out of Mrs. Hiller's garden they took up their talk +again where they had left it. + +"But could you come away like that, Carl, without arranging things? +Could you just walk off and leave your business?" Alexandra asked. + +Carl laughed. "Prudent Alexandra! You see, my dear, I happen to +have an honest partner. I trust him with everything. In fact, +it's been his enterprise from the beginning, you know. I'm in it +only because he took me in. I'll have to go back in the spring. +Perhaps you will want to go with me then. We haven't turned up +millions yet, but we've got a start that's worth following. But +this winter I'd like to spend with you. You won't feel that we +ought to wait longer, on Emil's account, will you, Alexandra?" + +Alexandra shook her head. "No, Carl; I don't feel that way about +it. And surely you needn't mind anything Lou and Oscar say now. +They are much angrier with me about Emil, now, than about you. +They say it was all my fault. That I ruined him by sending him to +college." + +"No, I don't care a button for Lou or Oscar. The moment I knew +you were in trouble, the moment I thought you might need me, it all +looked different. You've always been a triumphant kind of person." +Carl hesitated, looking sidewise at her strong, full figure. "But +you do need me now, Alexandra?" + +She put her hand on his arm. "I needed you terribly when it +happened, Carl. I cried for you at night. Then everything seemed +to get hard inside of me, and I thought perhaps I should never care +for you again. But when I got your telegram yesterday, then--then +it was just as it used to be. You are all I have in the world, +you know." + +Carl pressed her hand in silence. They were passing the Shabatas' +empty house now, but they avoided the orchard path and took one +that led over by the pasture pond. + +"Can you understand it, Carl?" Alexandra murmured. "I have had +nobody but Ivar and Signa to talk to. Do talk to me. Can you +understand it? Could you have believed that of Marie Tovesky? I +would have been cut to pieces, little by little, before I would +have betrayed her trust in me!" + +Carl looked at the shining spot of water before them. "Maybe she +was cut to pieces, too, Alexandra. I am sure she tried hard; they +both did. That was why Emil went to Mexico, of course. And he was +going away again, you tell me, though he had only been home three +weeks. You remember that Sunday when I went with Emil up to +the French Church fair? I thought that day there was some kind +of feeling, something unusual, between them. I meant to talk to +you about it. But on my way back I met Lou and Oscar and got so +angry that I forgot everything else. You mustn't be hard on them, +Alexandra. Sit down here by the pond a minute. I want to tell +you something." + +They sat down on the grass-tufted bank and Carl told her how he had +seen Emil and Marie out by the pond that morning, more than a year +ago, and how young and charming and full of grace they had seemed +to him. "It happens like that in the world sometimes, Alexandra," +he added earnestly. "I've seen it before. There are women who +spread ruin around them through no fault of theirs, just by being +too beautiful, too full of life and love. They can't help it. +People come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter. I used +to feel that in her when she was a little girl. Do you remember +how all the Bohemians crowded round her in the store that day, when +she gave Emil her candy? You remember those yellow sparks in her +eyes?" + +Alexandra sighed. "Yes. People couldn't help loving her. Poor +Frank does, even now, I think; though he's got himself in such +a tangle that for a long time his love has been bitterer than his +hate. But if you saw there was anything wrong, you ought to have +told me, Carl." + +Carl took her hand and smiled patiently. "My dear, it was something +one felt in the air, as you feel the spring coming, or a storm in +summer. I didn't SEE anything. Simply, when I was with those two +young things, I felt my blood go quicker, I felt--how shall I say +it?--an acceleration of life. After I got away, it was all too +delicate, too intangible, to write about." + +Alexandra looked at him mournfully. "I try to be more liberal +about such things than I used to be. I try to realize that we are +not all made alike. Only, why couldn't it have been Raoul Marcel, +or Jan Smirka? Why did it have to be my boy?" + +"Because he was the best there was, I suppose. They were both the +best you had here." + +The sun was dropping low in the west when the two friends rose and +took the path again. The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, +the owls were flying home to the prairie-dog town. When they came +to the corner where the pastures joined, Alexandra's twelve young +colts were galloping in a drove over the brow of the hill. + +"Carl," said Alexandra, "I should like to go up there with you in +the spring. I haven't been on the water since we crossed the ocean, +when I was a little girl. After we first came out here I used +to dream sometimes about the shipyard where father worked, and a +little sort of inlet, full of masts." Alexandra paused. After a +moment's thought she said, "But you would never ask me to go away +for good, would you?" + +"Of course not, my dearest. I think I know how you feel about this +country as well as you do yourself." Carl took her hand in both +his own and pressed it tenderly. + +"Yes, I still feel that way, though Emil is gone. When I was on +the train this morning, and we got near Hanover, I felt something +like I did when I drove back with Emil from the river that time, +in the dry year. I was glad to come back to it. I've lived here +a long time. There is great peace here, Carl, and freedom. . . . +I thought when I came out of that prison, where poor Frank is, +that I should never feel free again. But I do, here." Alexandra +took a deep breath and looked off into the red west. + +"You belong to the land," Carl murmured, "as you have always said. +Now more than ever." + +"Yes, now more than ever. You remember what you once said about +the graveyard, and the old story writing itself over? Only it is +we who write it, with the best we have." + +They paused on the last ridge of the pasture, overlooking the +house and the windmill and the stables that marked the site of John +Bergson's homestead. On every side the brown waves of the earth +rolled away to meet the sky. + +"Lou and Oscar can't see those things," said Alexandra suddenly. +"Suppose I do will my land to their children, what difference will +that make? The land belongs to the future, Carl; that's the way +it seems to me. How many of the names on the county clerk's plat +will be there in fifty years? I might as well try to will the +sunset over there to my brother's children. We come and go, but +the land is always here. And the people who love it and understand +it are the people who own it--for a little while." + +Carl looked at her wonderingly. She was still gazing into the west, +and in her face there was that exalted serenity that sometimes came +to her at moments of deep feeling. The level rays of the sinking +sun shone in her clear eyes. + +"Why are you thinking of such things now, Alexandra?" + +"I had a dream before I went to Lincoln-- But I will tell you about +that afterward, after we are married. It will never come true, +now, in the way I thought it might." She took Carl's arm and they +walked toward the gate. "How many times we have walked this path +together, Carl. How many times we will walk it again! Does it seem +to you like coming back to your own place? Do you feel at peace +with the world here? I think we shall be very happy. I haven't +any fears. I think when friends marry, they are safe. We don't +suffer like--those young ones." Alexandra ended with a sigh. + +They had reached the gate. Before Carl opened it, he drew Alexandra +to him and kissed her softly, on her lips and on her eyes. + +She leaned heavily on his shoulder. "I am tired," she murmured. +"I have been very lonely, Carl." + +They went into the house together, leaving the Divide behind them, +under the evening star. Fortunate country, that is one day to +receive hearts like Alexandra's into its bosom, to give them out +again in the yellow wheat, in the rustling corn, in the shining +eyes of youth! + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of O Pioneers! by Willa Cather diff --git a/old/opion13.zip b/old/opion13.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb98360 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/opion13.zip |