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diff --git a/35607.txt b/35607.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af650ad --- /dev/null +++ b/35607.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11253 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spell, by William Dana Orcutt + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Spell + +Author: William Dana Orcutt + +Illustrator: Gertrude Demain Hammond + +Release Date: March 18, 2011 [EBook #35607] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPELL *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, eagkw and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + [Illustration: + "THERE MAY BE SOME DIFFERENCE IN MEN, BUT + ALL HUSBANDS ARE ALIKE"] + + + + + THE SPELL + + + BY + + WILLIAM DANA ORCUTT + + + AUTHOR OF + "THE FLOWER OF DESTINY" "ROBERT CAVELIER" + "THE PRINCESS KALLISTO" ETC. + + + ILLUSTRATED BY + + GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND, R. I. + + + [Illustration] + + + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + MCMIX + + + + + Copyright, 1909, by HARPER & BROTHERS. + _All rights reserved._ + Published January, 1909. + + + + + TO + + MY FRIEND + + GUIDO BIAGI OF FLORENCE + + MODERN HUMANIST + NEITHER MASTER OF FATE NOR VICTIM OF FATE + BUT CO-PARTNER WITH NATURE IN SOLVING + HIS OWN PERSONAL PROBLEM, THIS BOOK IS + AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "THERE MAY BE SOME DIFFERENCE IN MEN, + BUT ALL HUSBANDS ARE ALIKE" + (See page 14) Frontispiece + + SLOWLY THE SPELL BEGAN TO WORK UPON + INEZ' BRAIN. SHE WAS NO LONGER IN + THE PRESENT--SHE WAS A WOMAN OF ITALY OF + FOUR CENTURIES BACK Facing p. 54 + + "BECAUSE 'BEAUTIFUL PAINTINGS' DO NOT + POSSESS HUSBANDS," REPLIED THE CONTESSA, + SAGELY. " 192 + + SO JACK HAD SENT HIM TO PLEAD HIS CAUSE, + HELEN TOLD HERSELF; AND IN HER + HEART SHE RESENTED THE INTERFERENCE " 334 + + + + +BOOK I + +MASTER OF FATE + + + + +THE SPELL + + + + +I + + +"Now, Jack, here is a chance to put your knowledge of the classics to +some practical use." + +Helen Armstrong paused for a moment before a Latin inscription cut in +the upper stones of the boundary wall, and leaned gratefully upon her +companion's arm after the steep ascent. "What does it mean?" + +Her husband smiled. "That is an easy test. The ancient legend conveys +the cheering intelligence that 'from this spot Florence and Fiesole, +mother and daughter, are equi-distant.'" + +The girl released her hold upon the man's arm and, pushing back a few +stray locks which the wind had loosened, turned to regard the panorama +behind her. It was a charmingly picturesque and characteristic Italian +roadway which they had chosen for their day's excursion. On either side +stood plastered stone walls, which bore curious marks and circles, +made--who shall say when or by whom?--remaining there as an atavistic +suggestion of Etruscan symbolism. The whiteness of the walls was +relieved by tall cypresses and ilexes which rose high above them, while +below the branches, and reclining upon the stone top, a profusion of +wild roses shed their petals and their fragrance for the benefit of the +passers-by. In the distance, through the trees, showed the shimmering +green of olive-groves and vineyards--covering the hillsides, yet +yielding occasionally to a gay-blossoming garden; and, as if to complete +by contrast, the streaked peaks of Carrara gave a faint suggestion of +their marble richness. In front, Fiesole rose sheer and picturesque, +while villas, scattered here and there, some large and stately, some +small, some antiquated and others modernized, gave evidence that the +ancient Via della Piazzola still expressed its own individuality as in +the days when the bishops of old trod its paths in visiting their see at +the top of the hill, and Boccaccio and Sacchetti, with their kindred +spirits, made its echoes ring with merry revelling. But, inevitably +turning again, the modern pilgrims saw far below them, and most +impressive of all, the languorous City of Flowers, peacefully dreaming +on either side of the silver Arno. + +All this was a familiar sight to John Armstrong, whose five years' +residence in Florence, just before entering Harvard, made him feel +entirely at home in its outskirts. He preferred, therefore, to fix his +eyes upon the face of the girl beside him. She was tall and fair, with +figure well proportioned, yet the characteristic which left the deepest +impress was her peculiar sweetness of expression. Among her Vincent Club +friends she was universally considered beautiful, and a girl's verdict +of another girl's beauty is rarely exaggerated. Her deep, merry, gray +eyes showed whence came the vivacity which ever made her the centre of +an animated group, while the sympathy and understanding which shone from +them explained her popularity. + +The announcement of her engagement to Jack Armstrong was the greatest +surprise of a sensational Boston season, not because of any unfitness in +the match,--for the Armstrong lineage was quite as distinguished as the +Cartwrights',--but because Helen had so persistently discouraged all +admiration beyond the point of friendship and comradeship, that those +who should have known pronounced her immune. + +But that was because her friends had read her character even less +correctly than they had Armstrong's. They would have told you that she +was distinctly a girl of the twentieth century; he discovered that while +tempered by its progressiveness, she had not been marred by its +extremes. They would have said that her character had not yet found +opportunity for expression, since her every wish had always been +gratified; he would have explained that the fact that she had learned to +wish wisely was in itself sufficient expression of the character which +lay beneath. + +He watched her in the midst of the social life to which they both +belonged, entering naturally, as he did, into its conventionalities as a +matter of course, and he rejoiced to find in her, beyond the enjoyment +of those every-day pleasures which end where they begin, a response to +the deeper thoughts which controlled his own best expression. He could +see that these new subjects frightened her a little by their immensity, +as he tried to explain them; he sympathized with her momentary despair +when she found herself beyond her depth; but he was convinced that the +understanding and the interest were both there, as in an undeveloped +negative. + +This same power of analysis which enabled him to discover what all could +not surmise had separated Armstrong, in Helen's mind, from other men, +nearer her own age, whom she had known. She could hardly have put in +words what the difference was, but she felt that it existed, and this +paved the way for his ultimate success. His personal attributes, +inevitably tempered by the early Italian influence, marked him as one +considerably above the commonplace. At college he had won the respect of +his professors by his strength of mind and tenacity of application, and +the affection of his fellow-students by his skill in athletics and his +general good-fellowship. Now, eight years out of college, he had already +made his place at the Boston bar, and was regarded as a successful man +in his profession. But beyond all this, unknown even to himself, +Armstrong was an extremist. The seed had been sown during that residence +in Florence years before, when unconsciously he had assimilated the +enthusiasm of an erudite librarian for the learning and achievements of +the master spirits of the past. Latin and Greek at college had thus +meant much more to him than dead languages; in them he found living +personalities which inspired in him the liveliest ambition for +emulation. + +These were some of the subjects to which he introduced Helen. Little by +little he told her of the fascination they possessed for him, of the +treasures hidden beneath their austere exterior. But the girl was +perhaps more interested by the charm of his presentation than by the +possibilities she saw in the subjects themselves. She felt that she +could understand him, and admitted her respect for the objects of his +enthusiasm, but she was convinced that these were beyond her +comprehension, and frankly rebelled at the necessity of going back into +dead centuries for them. + +"I love the present, and all that it contains," she replied to him one +day when something suggested the subject during one of the many walks +they took together; "I love the sky, the air, the sunshine, and the +flowers. Why should I go back to the past, made up of memories only, +when I may enjoy all this beautiful world around me? And you, Jack--I +should not have you if I had lived in the past!" + +As her friends had said, she possessed strong ideas about marriage, and +expressed them without reserve. Until Armstrong's irresistible wooing, +she had decided, as a result both of observation and of conclusion, that +admiration and attention from many were far to be preferred to the +devotion of any single one, and that matrimony was neither essential nor +desirable except under ideal conditions. + +"There are so many things which seem more interesting to me than a +husband," Helen asserted. "I'm afraid that I agree too much with that +wise old cynic who said that 'love is the wine of life, and marriage the +dram-drinking.' I insist on remaining a teetotaler." + +Thus Armstrong felt himself entitled to enjoy a certain degree of pride +and satisfaction in that he had succeeded in convincing her at last that +the ideal conditions she demanded had been met. + +Even on board the steamer, at the start of their wedding journey, as +the familiar sky-line of New York became less and less distinct, +Armstrong read in his wife's eyes, still gazing back at the vanishing +city, the thoughts which inevitably forced themselves upon her--a last +remnant of her former doubt. When she turned and saw him looking at her, +she smiled guiltily. + +"We are leaving the old life behind us," she said. "With all the +philosophy you have tried to teach me, I have not fully realized until +now what a change it means." + +"Do you regret it?" he asked her, half rebellious that even a passing +shadow should mar the completeness of their happiness. + +Helen quickly became herself again, and threw back her head with a merry +laugh at the seriousness of his interrogation. "Regret it! How foolish +even to ask such a question! But you cannot wonder that the importance +of the event should force itself upon me, now that we are actually +married, even if it never did before. It makes so much more of a change +in a woman's life than in a man's." + +Helen sighed, and then looked mischievously into his face. "With you +superior beings," she continued, "it simply signifies a new latch-key, a +new head to your household, and the added companionship of a woman whom +you have selected as absolutely essential to your happiness. You keep +your old friends, give up for a time a few of your bad habits, and +transfer a part of your affections from your clubs to your home. To the +woman, it means a complete readjustment. New duties and responsibilities +come to her all at once. From her earliest memory she has been taught to +depend upon the counsel and guidance of her parents, but suddenly she +finds herself freed from this long-accustomed habit, with a man standing +beside her, only a few years her senior, who is convinced that he can +serve in this capacity far better than any one else ever did. Even with +a husband as superior as yourself, Mr. John Armstrong, is it not natural +that one should recognize the passing of the old life, while welcoming +the coming of the new?" + +After landing, they had lingered for a fortnight in Paris, but, beneath +the keen enjoyment of the attractions there, Armstrong had felt an +impatience, unacknowledged even to himself, to reach Florence, which +contained for him so much of interest, and whither his memory--let him +give it sway--ever recalled him. He felt that his _dei familiares_ were +patiently waiting for him there, indulgent in spite of his long absence, +yet insistent that their rights again be recognized. Having dropped his +engrossing law-practice, he yearned to take advantage of this +opportunity, now near at hand, to devote himself to the girl he had won, +and at the same time to gratify this long-cherished wish to study more +deeply into the work of those early humanists who had foreshadowed and +brought about that mighty thought revolution, the wonderful +breaking-away from the deadly pall of ignorance into the light and +joyousness and richness of intellectual life known as the Renaissance. +Helen would no longer fail to understand them when she saw them face to +face. He would lead her gently, even as Cerini the librarian had led +him; and together they would draw from the old life those principles +which made it what it was, incorporating them into their new existence, +which would thus be the richer and better worth the living. So now that +he had actually reached his goal, it was natural that his contentment at +finding himself in Florence with his wife was intensified by the joy of +being again amid the scenes and personages which his imagination had +taken out from the indefiniteness of antiquity, and invested with a +living actuality. + +The sharp contrast of his two great devotions came to John Armstrong as +he stood at the cross-roads on the edge of San Domenico. The one had +exerted so powerful an influence on what he was to-day--the other must +influence his future to an extent even greater. The one, in spite of the +personality with which he had clothed it, was as musty and antiquated as +the ancient tomes he loved to study; the other, as she stood there, her +cheeks aglow after the brisk walk, her face animated with enthusiastic +delight, seemed the personification of present reality. What a force the +two must make when once joined together, contributing, each to the +other, those qualities which would else be lacking! + +"I must take you yet a little higher," Armstrong urged at length; "these +walls still cut off much of the glorious view." + +In a few moments more they had partly ascended the Via della Fiesolana, +which at this hour was wholly deserted. With a sigh, half from +satisfaction and half from momentary fatigue, Helen turned to her +companion. She caught the admiration which his face so clearly +reflected, but, womanlike, preferred to feign ignorance of its origin. +Glancing about her, she discovered a rock, half hidden by the tall grass +and wild poppies, which offered an attractive resting-place. Seating +herself, she plucked several of the brilliant blossoms, and began to +weave the stems together. At last she broke the silence. + +"Why are you so quiet, Jack?" + +"For three reasons," he replied, promptly. "This walk has made me +romantic, poetic, and hungry." + +Helen laughed heartily. "I am glad you added the third reason, for by +that I know that you are mortal. This wonderful air and the marvellous +view affect me exactly as a fairy-story used to, years ago. When I +turned I fully expected to find a fairy prince beside me. You confess +that you are romantic, which is becoming in a five-weeks'-old husband, +but why poetic?" + +"'Poetry is but spoken painting,'" quoted Armstrong, smiling; "and I +should be pleased indeed were I able to put on canvas the picture I now +see before me." + +"Since you cannot do that, suppose you write a sonnet." + +Armstrong met her arch smile firmly. The girlish abandon under the +influence of new surroundings awoke in him a side of his nature which he +had not previously realized he possessed. Stooping, he gently held her +face between his hands and looked deep into her responsive eyes before +replying: + + "'_Say from what vein did Love procure the gold + To make those sunny tresses? From what thorn + Stole he the rose, and whence the dew of morn, + Bidding them breathe and live in Beauty's mould? + What depth of ocean gave the pearls that told + Those gentle accents sweet, tho' rarely born? + Whence came so many graces to adorn + That brow more fair than summer skies unfold? + Oh! say what angels lead, what spheres control + The song divine which wastes my life away? + (Who can with trifles now my senses move?) + What sun gave birth unto the lofty soul + Of those enchanting eyes, whose glances stray + To burn and freeze my heart--the sport of Love?_'" + +Helen made no reply for several moments after Armstrong ceased +speaking. Then she held out her hand to him and looked up into his face. + +"I never knew before that you were a real poet," she said, quietly. + +"I wish I were--and such a poet! My precious Petrarch, for whom you +profess so little fondness, is responsible for that most splendid +tribute ever paid to woman." + +Helen was incredulous. + +"That sanctimonious old gentleman with the laurel leaves on his head and +the very self-confident expression on his face?" + +Armstrong nodded. + +"Who spent all his life making love to another man's wife from a safe +distance?" + +"Yes; this is one of his love-letters." + +"Then if I accept those lines you just repeated with so much feeling, I +must be Laura?" + +"But not another man's wife." + +"I should have been if you had acted like that, Jack. Let me see how you +look with a laurel wreath made of poppies." + +She drew his head down and tied the flowers about his forehead. Then, +pushing him away from her, she clapped her hands with delight. + +"There! if the noble Petrarch had looked like that, Madonna Laura could +surely never have resisted him." + +"Had Madonna Laura resembled Madonna Helen, the worthy Petrarch would +have had her in his arms before she had the chance," laughed Armstrong, +improving his opportunity as he spoke. + +"Very gallant, Jack, but very improper." Helen pursed her lips and +looked up at him mischievously. "But let us forget your musty old +antiquities and talk of the present. Do you realize that this is the end +of our honeymoon?" + +"No," he replied, holding her more closely and laughing down at her; "it +has only just begun." + +"Of course," assented Helen, disengaging herself, "but to-morrow we are +to exchange the very romantic titles of 'bride' and 'bridegroom' for the +much more commonplace 'host' and 'hostess.'" + +"Oh! I am relieved that you are not going to divorce me at once." +Armstrong was amused at her seriousness. "But it was your idea to invite +them to join us, was it not?" + +"I know it was--and now I must make a confession to you. I thought that +in five weeks we both would be glad enough to have some little break in +our love-making. But I did not realize how rapidly five weeks could +pass. Still"--Helen sighed--"what is the use of having a villa in +Florence unless you can invite your friends to see it?" + +"Then you have not become tired of your husband as soon as you thought +you would?" + +"Nor you of your wife?" Helen retorted, quickly. "Mamma suggested it +first. She said that so long a wedding trip as we had planned was sure +to end with one or both of us becoming hopelessly bored unless we +introduced other characters into our Garden of Eden." + +"Did she say 'Garden of Eden'? That family party included a serpent, if +rumor be correct." + +The girl laughed. + +"But there could not be one in ours, because I would never give you the +chance to say, 'The woman did it.'" + +"Your mother forgets that we are exceptions." + +"She says there may be some difference in men, but that all husbands are +alike." + +"Trite and to the point, as always with mamma." Armstrong paused and +smiled. "Well, I think even she will be satisfied with the success of +her suggestion. How many do our guests number at present?" + +Helen dropped the flower she was idly swinging and began to count upon +her fingers. + +"Let me see. There is Inez Thayer--I am glad that she could visit us, so +that at last you can know her. It is strange enough that you should not +have met her until the wedding. You cannot help liking each other, for +she is interested in all those serious things you love so well. The +girls used to make sport of our devotion at school because our +dispositions are so unlike: she is thoughtful, while I am impulsive; she +is carried away with anything which is deep and learned, while I, as you +well know, have nothing more important in life than you and my music." + +Helen paused for a moment thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wish I could really +interest myself in those ancient deities you worship." + +"You could if you only knew them as I do," he urged, quietly. "The +present is the evolution of the past, but it has been evolved so fast +that many of the old-time treasures have been forgotten in the mad pace +of every-day life." + +"But we can't remember everything," Helen replied; "there are not hours +enough in the day. I can't even find time to read our modern writers as +much as I wish I could, and I think one ought to do that before going +back to the ancients." + +"All modern literature is based upon what has gone before," insisted +Armstrong. + +"Wait a moment." Helen's face again became thoughtful. "I have it!" she +cried, triumphantly. "'The gardens of Sicily are empty now, but the bees +still fetch honey from the golden jars of Theocritus.' That is what you +mean, is it not? I remember that from something of Lowell's I read at +school." + +"Splendid!" he laughed, with delight. "Who dares to say that you are not +in sympathy with the past?" He bent his head down close to hers. "Would +you not prefer to hold those 'golden jars' in your very hands, +sweetheart, rather than merely read about them?" + +"But, Jack, 'the gardens of Sicily are empty now.' Think how lonesome we +should be." Helen threw back her head and drew in a long breath of the +exhilarating air. + +Armstrong was still insistent. "I wish I could make you see it as I do," +he said. "The present of to-day is bound to be the past of to-morrow. +What I want to do is to assimilate all that the past can give me, so +that I may do my part, however small, toward giving it out again, made +stronger and more effective because of its modern application, thus +helping this present to become worthy of being considered by those who +come after us." + +Helen looked up at him with undisguised admiration. "Oh, Jack, that +sounds so wonderful, and I wish I could enter into it with you, but I +simply cannot do it. Inez will be just the one. At school, as I told +you, she went in for the classics and all that, while I--well, I was +sent there to be 'finished.' Don't look so disappointed, Jack. Truly I +would if I could." + +"I shall not give you up yet," he answered, smiling at Helen's +intensity, notwithstanding his genuine regret. "Tell me something more +about Miss Thayer, since you insist upon her becoming your substitute." + +"Inez is a darling, in spite of her superiority," Helen replied, gayly, +"and I simply could not have been married without her for a bridesmaid. +She would have sailed two weeks earlier except for our wedding. As it +was, she came over with her cousins, and has been travelling with them +until time to join us here at the villa." + +"De Peyster is still devoted, I judge?" + +"Poor Ferdinand! His persistency has quite won my sympathy. He simply +will not take 'no' for an answer, but travels back and forth between +Boston and Philadelphia like any commercial traveller. Going over, he +has a bunch of American Beauties under one arm and a box of bonbons +under the other; returning, nothing but another refusal to add to those +Inez has already given him." + +"He is not a bad sort of chap at all, when you get past his +peculiarities," Armstrong added. + +"Ferdy is a splendid fellow, in his own way," assented Helen, warmly, +"and any girl might do a great deal worse than marry him; but he is not +Inez' style at all. I believe her trip to Europe is really to get away +from him. I know he thinks that is the reason, and is simply +inconsolable." + +"De Peyster would be a good match," remarked Armstrong, thoughtfully. +"He has plenty of money and plenty of leisure, and he ought to be able +to make his wife fairly comfortable." + +"But that is not what Inez wants. She has great ideas about affinities, +and Ferdy does not answer to the description." + +"Then there is your uncle Peabody," Armstrong prompted, helpfully. + +"Yes, there is dear Uncle Peabody. You will enjoy him immensely." + +"Does he live up to his reputation of a man with an 'ism'?" + +"Oh, Jack! Some one has been maligning him to you. That is because he is +the only original member of our family, and really the most useful." + +"Indeed! If that is your estimate of him, it shall also be mine. I was +prepared for a well-developed specimen of the _genus_ crank." + +"Wait till you see him." Helen laughed at her husband's mental picture. +"He is a crank, in a way, but he is a mighty cheerful one to have +around." + +"He believes in making an air-plant of one's self, in order to help him +forget his other troubles, does he not?" + +"Who has been making fun of dear Uncle Peabody? I must have him tell you +about his work himself. It is true that he believes most people overeat, +and it is true that he is devoting his life and his fortune to finding +out what the basis of proper nutrition really is; but as for +starving--wait till you see him!" + +"You have relieved me considerably," Armstrong replied, gravely. "From +what I had heard of your uncle I had expected nothing less than to be +made an example of for the sake of science--and you have already +discovered that I am really partial to my meals." + +"You can be just as partial to them as ever, Jack. But, seriously, I +know you will find him most interesting, and I shall be surprised if his +theories do not give you something new to think about." + +"His theories will not do for me," said Armstrong, assuming a position +of mock importance, "for I have always been taught that a touch of +indigestion is absolutely essential to genius." + +"Splendid!" cried Helen. "That will be just the argument to start the +conversation at our first dinner and keep it from being commonplace. I +have been trying to think how we could get Uncle Peabody interested. It +is only that first dinner which I dread, and you have helped me out +nobly." + +"That makes two," suggested Jack. + +"Yes, two. Then there are the Sinclair girls, who have been studying +here in Florence for nearly a year. They will come up from their +_pension_. That makes four--and the others, you know, are Phil Emory and +Dick Eustis, who arrive in Florence from Rome to-night. I don't need to +tell you anything about them." + +"There is a whole lot you might tell me about Emory if you chose." + +Armstrong looked slyly into his wife's face. + +"Shame on you, Jack!" Helen cried, flushing; "the idea of being jealous +on your wedding trip!" + +"I am not jealous _now_." He emphasized the last word. + +"Well, I am glad you are over it." + +"It looks like a very jolly party," he hastened to add, seeing that +Helen's annoyance was genuine, "and I can see where we become old +married folk to-morrow. You and Uncle Peabody will act as chaperons, I +presume, Phil and Dick will look after the Sinclair girls, while I am to +devote myself to Inez Thayer. Is that the programme?" + +"Exactly. I am so anxious that Inez should appreciate what a talented +husband I have. She has heard great stories about your learning and +erudition, so now you must live up to the picture." + +"Then suppose we start for home if you are quite rested. It is plainly +incumbent on me to make sure that my knowledge of the classics proves +equal to the test." + + + + +II + + +The Armstrongs had installed themselves in the Villa Godilombra, near +Settignano. The date for the wedding was no sooner settled than Jack +cabled to secure what had always seemed to him to be the most glorious +location around Florence. Years before, his favorite tramp had been out +of the ancient city through the Porta alla Croce to La Mensola, whence +he delighted to ascend the hill of Settignano. Every villa possessed a +peculiar fascination for him. The "Poggio Gherardo"--the "Primo Palagio +del Refugio" of the _Decameron_--made Boccaccio real to him. The Villa +Buonarroti, whither Michelangelo was sent as a baby, after the Italian +custom, to be nursed in a family of _scarpellini_, always attracted him, +and times without number he had stood admiringly before the wall in one +of the rooms, gazing at the figure of the satyr which the infant prodigy +drew with a burning stick taken from the fire. In those days he had been +seized with a secret yearning to become an artist, and often he had +tried to reproduce the satyr from memory, but always the ugly visage +assumed a mocking, sneering aspect which caused him to relinquish his +cherished ambition in despair. + +But the Villa Godilombra appealed to Armstrong for a different reason. +It stood high up on the hill, affording a wonderful view of the village +of Settignano and the wide-spreading valley of the Arno. The villa +itself, with its overhanging eaves, coigned angles, and narrow windows, +set on heavy consoles, was essentially Tuscan, and impressive far out of +proportion to its size. It would have seemed too massive but for an +arcade at either end, the one connecting the house itself with its +chapel, the other leading from the first floor through a spiral stairway +in one pier of the arcade to what originally, in the days of the +Gamberelli, had been an old fish-pond and herb-garden. In front of the +villa a row of antiquated stone vases shared the honors with equally +dilapidated stone dogs along a grassy terrace held up by a low wall, +while beyond this and the house was the vineyard. + +Armstrong had studied the plans of the house and grounds from a +distance, because, after his disappointing experience with +Michelangelo's satyr, he had firmly determined to become an architect +and to build Italian houses in America. He had walked up and down the +long bowling-green behind the villa, carefully noting the number of +statues set upon the high retaining wall and figuring the height of the +hedges. One day old Giuseppe, the sun-baked gardener who had watched the +boy first with suspicion and then with interest, invited him to enter, +and his joy had been complete. Giuseppe showed him the fish-pond and the +grotto, lying in the shadow of the ancient cypresses, made up of +varicolored shells and stones, with shepherds and nymphs occupying +niches around a trickling fountain. He led him to the balustrade at the +end of the bowling-green, and pointed out the panorama which terminated +in the hills beyond the southern bank of the river. + +Parallel with the back of the villa was another wall which supported a +terrace of cypress and ilex trees. Behind this was the _salvatico_, +without which no self-respecting Italian villa could maintain its +dignity, with stone seats beneath the heavy foliage offering a grateful +relief from the glare of the sun. And here and there were white statues +of classic goddesses, to relieve the loneliness had it existed. An iron +gate, let into the wall opposite the main doorway of the villa, led into +a small garden, this leading in turn into another grotto, which, with +its fountain and statues, formed an extension of the _vista_. On either +side a balustraded flight of steps led up to an artificial height--the +Italians' beloved _terrazza_--flanked by rows of orange and lemon trees, +growing luxuriantly in their red earthen pots; while against the wide +balustrades rested the heavily scented clusters of the camellia and the +rose-tinted oleander. + +Twelve years is a short space of time in Italy, where age is reckoned +by the millennial, so it seemed perfectly natural, when Armstrong +arrived in Florence, to find Giuseppe still at his old post and included +in the lease as a part of the Villa Godilombra. The old man expressed no +surprise, no delight--yet at heart he was well pleased. The previous +tenants of the villa had been the unimaginative family of a +German-American brewer, and their preference for beer over the wonderful +_vino rosso_ which he himself had pressed out from the luscious grapes +in the vineyard filled his heart with sorrow. He confided to Annetta, +the red-lipped maid Armstrong had engaged for Helen, that he "was glad +to serve an 'Americano molto importante' rather than a _porco_." And +Giuseppe took great satisfaction in placing upon that last word all the +emphasis needed to express six months' accumulated disgust. + +From the moment the Armstrongs arrived, Giuseppe's admiration for Helen +knew no bounds. To him she was the personification of all that was +perfection. Not that he expressed it, even to Annetta--he would have +forgotten mass on Good Friday sooner than so forget his place. It was +rather that devotion which is born and not made--occasionally, but not +often, found in those who enter so intimately into the life of those +they serve, yet who must always feel themselves apart from it. Hardly a +day had passed since the Armstrongs had assumed possession of the villa +that Helen had not found the choicest _fragole_ at her plate, each juicy +berry carefully selected and resting upon a bed of its own leaves at the +bottom of the little basket. Her room was ever redolent with the odor of +the flowers he smuggled in, always unobserved; and his instructions to +the more frivolous Annetta as to her duties toward the _nobile donna_ +were such as to cause that young woman to throw her head haughtily on +one side, with the observation that she was probably as well acquainted +with the requirements of a lady's maid as any gardener was apt to be, +even though he _were_ old enough to be her grandfather. + +This particular tiff had taken place while Armstrong and his wife were +making their excursion to Fiesole. On their return they had found +Giuseppe in a morose mood, which quickly vanished when Helen told him, +in her broken Italian, that she expected guests upon the morrow, and +depended upon him to see that every room was properly decorated, as he +alone could do it. The old man could hardly wait to arrange the chairs +upon the veranda, so eager was he to seek revenge upon his youthful +tormentor. + +"Did she ask you to arrange the flowers, young peacock-feather?" asked +Giuseppe of Annetta when he found her in the kitchen. "Did she trust you +even to bring the message to old Giuseppe? No. With her own lips the +_Eccellenza_ praised the one servant on whom she can rely." + +"She knows you are good for nothing else," Annetta retorted, with a +scornful laugh and a toss of her pretty head; "and she wishes to get you +out of the way while we attend to the really important matters. See," +she cried, as the tinkling of the maids' bell punctuated her remarks, +"the _nobile donna_ will now give _me_ commands." + +Giuseppe could not so far forget his dignity as to reply to such an +outrageous slander, so he contented himself with casting upon Annetta +his most withering glances as she hastily brushed past him, holding back +her skirts lest they be defiled by touching the old man. He watched her +angrily until she vanished through the door, then, with the choicest +maledictions at his command, he shuffled into the garden--into his own +domain, where the present generation of ill-bred servants, as he +explained to himself, could vex him not. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. John Armstrong's first dinner at the Villa Godilombra was an +unqualified success. Uncle Peabody had arrived early that morning; his +optimism had set its seal of approval upon the evident happiness of the +bridal couple, and he had already established himself as chief reflector +of the concentrated joy which he saw about him. Inez Thayer was received +into Helen's welcoming arms soon after luncheon, and was at once +installed in the best guest-chamber for an extended visit. Two dusty +_vetture_ brought the Sinclair girls, Emory and Eustis, in time for +dinner, each driver striving to deliver his passengers first in +anticipation of an extra _pourboire_. The company was therefore +complete, and each member quite in the spirit of the occasion. + +The great candelabra cast their light upon the animated party seated +about the table in such a manner that the old paintings hanging upon the +walls of the high room were but dimly visible. The long windows were +open, and the light breeze just cooled the air enough to mellow the +temperature, without so much as causing the candle-flames to flicker. +Giuseppe's choicest flowers, deftly arranged upon the table by Helen's +skilful hands, contrasted pleasantly with the antique silver and china +which had once been the pride of the original owner of the villa; and +the menu itself, wisely intrusted by Helen to the old Italian cook, was +rife with constant surprises for the American palate. Even the wines +were new--if not in name, at least in flavor, for Italian vintages leave +behind them their native richness and aroma when transplanted. Never was +any _vino rosso_ so delicious as that which Giuseppe made, even though +unappreciated by his former master; never such _lacrima Christi_ as that +which Armstrong secured in a little wine-shop near the Bargello; never +such _Asti spumante_ as that which sparkled in the glasses, eager to +share its own bubbling happiness in return for the privilege of touching +the fair lips of the beautiful _donne Americane_. + +"We had a friend of yours on board ship, Miss Thayer," said Emory, +speaking to his left-hand neighbor as they seated themselves. + +"A friend of mine?" queried Inez. "I can't think who it could be." + +"Ferdy De Peyster," replied Emory. + +Inez cast a quick glance at Helen. "Really?" she asked. "I thought he +was going to spend the summer at Bar Harbor." + +"Changed his mind at the last moment," he said. "Could not resist the +charms of Italy. Do you know, Helen"--Emory addressed himself to his +hostess--"De Peyster has developed a mania for art." + +Helen laughed. "No," she replied, "that is news indeed. It is a side of +Ferdy's nature which even his best friends had not suspected. Is he +coming to Florence?" + +"Can't say; but he is evidently planning to leave Rome. We left him at +the Vatican, in the Pinacoteca, standing before Raphael's +'Transfiguration.'" + +"With a Baedeker in his hand?" queried Jack. + +"No, studying Cook's Continental Time-table." + +"What a detective you would make, Mr. Emory," suggested Mary Sinclair as +the laughter subsided. + +"I have a better story about De Peyster than that." + +Eustis waited to be urged. + +"Give it to us, Dick," said Jack, helpfully. + +"It was at Gibraltar," began Eustis. "We were in the same party going +over the fortifications. De Peyster, you know, enlisted at the time of +the Spanish war. Some family friend in the Senate obtained for him a +berth as second lieutenant, and his company got as far as Key West. He +rather prides himself on his military knowledge, and he confided to me +that he had his uniform with him in case he was invited to attend any +Court functions. Well, all the way around De Peyster explained +everything to us. The Tommy Atkins who was our guide was as serious as a +mummy, but confirmed everything Ferdy said. When you reach the gallery +at the top, you remember, the guide points out the parade-ground below, +and it happened that there was a battalion going through its +evolutions." + +"'Ah!' said De Peyster, 'this is very interesting.'" Then he described +each movement, giving it the technical military name. At last he turned +to our guide and said, patronizingly: 'I'm a bit disappointed, sergeant, +after all I have heard of the precision of the English army. I have +often seen American soldiers go through those same movements--just as +well as that.' + +"The sergeant saluted respectfully and gravely. 'Quite likely, sir,' he +said, 'quite likely. These are raw recruits--arrived yesterday, sir!'" + +"De Peyster was a sport, though," added Emory. "When he saw that the +joke was on him he handed Tommy a shining sovereign and said: 'Here, +sergeant, have this on me, and drink a health to our two armies--may +comparisons never be needed.'" + +Helen clapped her hands. "Good for Ferdy! He is all right if people +would only leave him alone." + +"Too bad he has so much money!" Eustis was reflective. "If De Peyster +had to get out and hustle a bit you would find he had a whole lot of +stuff in him." + +"Of course he has," Uncle Peabody agreed. + +"Do you know Mr. De Peyster?" Inez asked, surprised. + +"No," replied Uncle Peabody, "I don't need to after hearing Mr. Eustis's +summary. On general principles, every one has 'a whole lot of stuff in +him.' The trouble is that people don't give it a chance to come out." + +"Your confidence is evidently based upon your general optimism?" +Armstrong remembered that Helen had mentioned this as a cardinal +characteristic. + +"Yes, but proved by a thousand and one experiments. Our present +subject, who now becomes No. 1002, is apparently handicapped by the +misfortune of inherited leisure. It is rarely that a man of possession +reaches his fullest development without the spur of necessity. More +frequently we see one extreme or the other--too much possession or too +much necessity." + +"That is all very well as a theory, but does it really prove anything as +regards De Peyster?" questioned Armstrong. "Personally I think optimism +is a dangerous thing. This confidence that everything is coming out +right is what makes criminals out of bank cashiers." + +"There is a vast difference between real and false optimism," replied +Uncle Peabody. "I knew a man once who called himself a cheerful +pessimist, because every time he planted a seed it grew down instead of +up. He came to expect this, so it did not worry him any. He was a real +optimist, even though he did not know it." + +"What would be your prescription for a case like Mr. De Peyster's?" +queried Bertha Sinclair. + +"A good wife, possessed of ambition, sympathy, and tact," Uncle Peabody +replied, promptly. "This, my dear Miss Sinclair, is your opportunity to +assist me in proving my argument. Will you be my accomplice?" + +"I? Why, I don't even know Mr. De Peyster," Bertha protested. "You must +find some one else." + +"Very well," sighed Mr. Cartwright. "You see how difficult it is for +science to assert its laws." + +Helen caught sight of Inez' cheeks and hastened to her friend's relief. + +"Uncle Peabody, do you know that you are responsible for the first +difference of opinion which has arisen between my husband and me?" + +"My gracious, no! Can it be possible?" + +"It is a fact. I stated to him only yesterday that perfect digestion was +the only basis on which health and happiness can possibly rest. You +taught me that, but Jack asserts that a touch of indigestion is +absolutely essential to genius." + +"How does he know? Has he a touch of indigestion?" + +"Not a touch," laughed Armstrong, "and that proves my statement. I +really believe I might have been a genius if my digestion had not always +been so disgustingly strong." + +"Don't despair, my dear boy." + +Uncle Peabody looked at Jack over his spectacles. "Genius is a germ, and +sometimes develops late in life. If your theory is correct, a few more +gastronomic orgies such as this will make you eligible." + +"But is there not something in what I say?" Armstrong persisted, +seriously. "Is it not true that good health is against intellectual +progression? Is not good health the supremacy of the physical over the +mental? The healthy man is an animal--he eats and sleeps too much. Pain +and suffering have not developed the nervous side, which is so closely +connected with the intellectual. When the physical side becomes +weakened, then the brain begins to act." + +Uncle Peabody listened attentively and then removed his spectacles. "My +dear Jack Armstrong," he said, at last, "I can see some fun ahead for +both of us, and Helen has placed me still further in her debt by her +choice of a husband. Your argument is not a new one. It was invented a +great many years ago in France by some clever person who wished to have +an excuse for late nights, absinthe, and cigarettes. Do you mean +seriously to advance a theory which, if logically carried through to the +end, would credit hospitals and homes for the hopelessly depraved with +being the highest intellectual establishments in the world?" + +"But look at the examples which can be cited," Armstrong continued, +undisturbed. "Zola produced nothing of importance after he adopted the +simple life, and Swinburne's poetry lost all its fire as soon as he +'reformed.'" + +"Can you prove in either case that the question of nutrition or +digestion entered into the matter at all?" + +"Oh, it may have been a coincidence, of course; but many other cases +might be added." + +Uncle Peabody was silent for a moment. "Let me give you a simple +problem," he said, at length. "Helen tells me that you have an +automobile now on its way to Florence?" + +Armstrong assented. + +"When it arrives I presume you will engage a chauffeur?" + +"What has an automobile to do with nutrition, Mr. Cartwright?" demanded +Mary Sinclair. "Surely an automobile has no digestion." + +"My application is near at hand. When you engage that chauffeur I +presume you will insist that he knows the mechanism of the machine, +understands the application of the motive power and other details which +enter into safe and successful handling of the car?" + +"Naturally," replied Jack. "I am not introducing my machine here for +the purpose either of murder or suicide." + +"Exactly. That is just what I wanted you to say. Now, every human +stomach is an engine which requires at least as intelligent handling as +that of an automobile. Upon its successful working depends the +mechanical action of the body. We may disregard the additional +dependence of the brain. Petroleum in the automobile is replaced by what +we call food in the human engine. Too much of either, unintelligently +applied, produces the same unfortunate result. Now I ask you, John +Armstrong, would you engage as chauffeur for your automobile a man who +knew no more about the mechanism of its engine, or how to feed and +handle it properly, than you yourself know about your own body engine?" + +"No," Armstrong admitted, frankly, "I would not." + +"But which is more serious--a damage resulting from his ignorance or +from your own?" + +"Look here, Mr. Cartwright," said Jack, laughingly, "you promised that +there was fun ahead for us both. At present it seems to be mostly for +you and our friends." + +"Who started the discussion?" + +"Helen; but I admit my error in being drawn into it. I had not expected +to be convicted upon my own evidence." + +Helen rose. "I must rescue my husband from the calamity I have brought +upon him. Come, let us have our coffee in the garden." + + + + +III + + +If one could have looked within Uncle Peabody's room after the other +guests had snuffed out their candles, he would have discovered its +inmate seated beside the flickering light with an open letter in his +hand. He had read it over many times since its receipt nearly three +months earlier, announcing in Helen's characteristic way her engagement +and approaching marriage. No one else had ever come so closely into his +life, and he felt a certain responsibility to satisfy himself that the +girl had made no mistake in the important step which she had taken. Now +that he had actually met her husband, he again perused the lines which +had introduced his new nephew to him. + + +"_It has actually happened at last_," the letter began, "_and your +favorite wager of 'a thousand to one on the unexpected' has really won. +In other words, I, Helen Cartwright, condemned (by myself) to live and +die an old maid as penalty for being so critical of the genus homo, now +confess myself completely, hopelessly in love, and so happy in my new +estate that I wonder why I ever hesitated._ + +"_It is all so curious. The things which interested me before now seem +so commonplace compared to the events to come in connection with this +broader existence which is opening up before me. How infinitely more +gratifying it is to feel myself living for and a part of another's life, +how comforting to know that some other personality, whom I can love and +respect, feels himself to be living for and a part of my life. It adds +to the seriousness of it all, but how it increases the satisfaction!_ + +"_I wish I could describe John Armstrong to you, but now that I am about +to make the attempt I realize how difficult a task I have undertaken. He +is eight years older than I, but sometimes he seems to be years younger, +while again I feel almost like a child beside him. No, Uncle Peabody, it +is not a similar case to that little Mrs. Johnson whom you quoted when +you were last home as saying that a woman feels as old as the way her +husband treats her. I know this will pop into your mind, so I will +promptly head you off. The fact is that Jack is a very remarkable man. +He is handsome, with great strength of character showing in every +feature, he is tall and athletic,--but it is his wonderful mental +ability which will most impress you. Think of a man playing on the +Harvard 'Varsity eleven, rowing on the crew, and yet graduating with a +=summa cum laude=!_ + +"_Jack is a superb dancer, thus disproving the common belief that a man +can't be clever at both ends; and at the Assemblies, even before we were +engaged, I used to anticipate those numbers which he had taken more than +all the others. Besides this, his conversation was always so +original,--touching frequently upon topics which were new to me. His +particular fad is what he calls 'humanism' and his particular loves the +great writers of the past,--his 'divinities,' as he calls them. You +probably understand just what all this means, but, alas! most of it is +beyond my comprehension! What he tells me interests me, of course,--it +even fascinates me. I can follow him up to a certain point; then we +reach my limitations, and I am forced to admit my lack of understanding. +That is when I feel so like an infant beside him. He is as patient as +can be, and insists that when once I am in Florence, where the air +itself is heavy with the learning of the past, I shall be able to +comprehend it all, and it will mean the same to me that it does to him. +I wish I felt as confident!_ + +"_We are to be married in April, and Jack has taken the Villa Godilombra +in Settignano for the season. We expect to arrive there early in May, +and we want you to come to us for just as long a visit as you can +arrange. You won't disappoint me, will you, dear Uncle Peabody? We all +have been broken-hearted that you have so long delayed your return, and +one of the events in our plans for Florence to which I am looking +forward with the greatest eagerness is this visit with you. Write and +tell me how your work progresses, but don't say 'I told you so.' This +would show that you really expected it all the time, and your favorite +argument would lose its force. Just say that you will come to us at +Settignano._" + + +The letter itself showed that Helen had changed much during the months +which had elapsed since he had last seen her. There was a more serious +undertone and a broader outlook,--due undoubtedly to Armstrong's +influence. Uncle Peabody wondered whether Helen could have been +attracted to this man by her admiration for his mental strength rather +than by any real sentiment, perhaps mistaking the one for the other. +This was the point he wished to settle in his own mind, and this was why +he had studied them both, from the moment of his arrival, much more +carefully than either one of them realized. + +Armstrong was a remarkable man, as Helen had said. Even in the few hours +he had known him, Uncle Peabody found much to admire. It was true that +his manner toward Helen showed indulgence, almost as to a child rather +than to a wife; but his devotion was entirely obvious, and this relation +was to be expected after reading Helen's letter. Still, Mr. Cartwright +told himself, the existence of this relation necessitated a certain +readjustment before a perfection of united interests could be attained. +Armstrong was bound to be the dominating force, and Helen must +inevitably respond to this new influence, strange as it now seemed to +her. His knowledge of her sympathetic and intuitive grasp of his own pet +theories gave him confidence to believe that this response would be +equally prompt and comprehensive. + +Henry Peabody Cartwright was distinctly a citizen of the world. Boston +had been his birthplace, Boston had been the base of his eminently +successful business operations, and his name still figured in the list +of the city's "largest taxpayers." Beyond this, the city of his early +activity had, during the past twenty years, seen him only as a visitor +at periodic intervals. He had emerged from his commercial environment at +the age of forty, with a firm determination to gratify his ideals. + +Fortunately for him, and for mankind as well, his ideals were not fully +crystallized when he set out to gratify them. Boston was entirely +satisfactory to him as an abiding-place, but he felt a leaven at work +within him which demanded a larger arena than even the outlying +territory of Greater Boston covered. He started, therefore, in the late +eighties for a trip around the world, with the definite purpose, as he +himself announced, of "giving things a chance to happen to him." + +"I have no schedule and no plans," he said to those who questioned him. +"I shall 'hitch my wagon to a star,' but always with my grip near at +hand, so that I may change stars upon a moment's notice." + +There were no immediate family ties to interfere with the carrying-out +of what seemed to his friends to be rather quixotic ideas. There may +have been some youthful romance, but, if so, no one ever succeeded in +learning anything of it from him. + +"It is all perfectly simple," he once good-naturedly replied to a +persistent relative. "The girls I was willing to marry would not have +me, and those who would have me I was not willing to marry. I used to +think that I would become more attractive as I grew older, but I have +given up that idea now. Once I tried to rub a freckle off with +sand-paper and pumice-stone and found blood under the skin; but the +freckle--the same old freckle--is there to this day." + +His devotion to women in the composite was consistent and sincere; the +fondness which existed between himself and his brother's family was such +that his departure had left a distinct void, and his visits home were +events circled with red ink in the family calendar. He enjoyed these +visits no less than they; but with never more than a day or two of +warning he would announce his intention of leaving for Egypt or India or +some spot more or less remote in his quest for the unexpected. To the +reproaches which were levelled at him, he replied, with a smile which +defied controversy: + +"I am just as sorry not to be with you all as you can possibly be to +have me away; but I have educated myself to the separation, and have +thus overcome the necessity for personal propinquity." + +On that first trip around the world Uncle Peabody found one of his +ideals, although he did not realize its vast importance until several +years later. Japan appealed to him, and the longer he remained there the +more impressed he became with certain of the national characteristics. +First of all, he marvelled at the evenness of temper which the people +displayed, at their endurance, their patience. He watched the +carefulness with which they weighed the importance of each problem +before accepting its responsibility, and their utter abandon in carrying +it through when once undertaken. This was twenty years before the +Russo-Japanese war, and he had come among them with the existing +Occidental estimate of their paganism and barbarity. It may have been a +species of incredulity leading to curiosity which induced him to remain +among them, but as a result of his sojourn he discovered that they were +philosophers rather than fatalists, geniuses rather than barbarians. + +He questioned his new hosts, when he came to know them better, and was +told quite seriously and quite naturally that they never became angry, +because anger produced poison in the system and retarded digestion; that +upon digestion depended health; that upon health depended happiness, and +upon happiness depended personal efficiency and life itself. They +explained that forethought was one of the cardinal factors of their +creed, but added that its antithesis, fear-thought, was equally +important as an element to be eliminated. They called his attention to +the fact that they did not live upon what they ate, but upon what they +digested, and that by masticating their food more thoroughly than he did +they secured from the smaller quantity the same amount of nourishment +without needlessly overloading their systems with undigested food which +could not possibly be assimilated. + +This last theory did not altogether appeal to Peabody Cartwright at +first. His friends at the Somerset Club still held memories of his +epicurean proclivities, and they were not weary even yet of recalling +the time when he had won a goodly wager by naming, blindfolded, five +different vintages of Burgundy and Bordeaux. But the more he thought it +over the more convinced he became that the something to which he had +promised to give a chance had really happened to him. He pondered, he +experimented--but he still continued to eat larger quantities of food +than the Japanese. + +A year later he was in Italy, and in Venice Mr. Cartwright suddenly +discovered that he had found the geographical centre of the civilized +world. With Venice as the starting-point, one could reach London or +Constantinople, St. Petersburg or New York, with equal exertion. Venice, +therefore, became his adopted home, although it could claim no more of +his presence than any one of a dozen other cities in the four quarters +of the globe. During the twenty years, he had succeeded in making +himself a part of each one--had become a veritable citizen of the world, +but by no means a man without a country. + +Italy served to drive home the truths which Japan had first shown him. +Three years after his experience there, a dingy, second-hand book-store +in Florence had placed him in possession of Luigi Cornaro's _Discorsi +della Vita Sobria_. He read it with amazement. Here in his hand, written +by a Venetian nobleman more than three hundred years before, at the age +of eighty-three, was the text-book of the theories of life which he had +accepted from the Japanese as new and untried except among this alien +people! It gave him a start, and he journeyed to Turin, Berne, Berlin, +Brussels, Paris, London, St. Petersburg, and even back to Boston, +seeking to interest the famous physiologists in his discovery, which he +believed was destined to exterminate disease and to transform those +practising the medical profession into hygienic engineers. + +Mr. Cartwright's name and personality preserved him from a sanitarium, +but his theories as to self-control, forethought, and fear-thought +received ample opportunity for personal experiment. He was as tenacious +as if his future depended upon the outcome. A good-natured indulgence +here, and an incredulous sympathy there, gave him his first +opportunities for demonstration. He not only drew upon his fortune, but +freely contributed himself as a subject for experiment. It had been +slow, but he had learned patience from the Japanese. Disbelief gradually +changed into doubt, doubt into question, question into half-belief, and +half-belief into conviction. Quietly, surely, his own faith was +assimilated by those high in the physiological ranks, and almost against +their will, and before they realized the importance of their +concessions, he had forced them to prove him right by their own +analyses. + +The last five years had been a steady triumph. He had found his ideals, +but he had not attained them. He knew what his life-work was, and had +the gratification of counting among his friends and collaborators the +highest authorities the world recognized. The habits of generations +could not be changed in a moment--some of them could never be changed; +but the ball had been started and was gaining in size with each +revolution. It no longer needed his gentle, persuasive push; it had its +own momentum now, and he found it only necessary to guide its advance +and to watch its growth. + +Uncle Peabody's thoughts reverted to his work as he folded Helen's +letter and placed it again in his pocket, where he had so long carried +it. He regretted having his labors interrupted just now, but he found +himself keenly interested to watch Helen's approaching evolution. His +wagon was firmly hitched to this new star, and he had no notion of +changing stars. So, with a murmured "Bless you, my children. May you +live forever, and may I come to your funeral," he sought the repose +which the others had already found. + + + + +IV + + +Mary and Bertha Sinclair were just completing a year's study in +Florence, upon which they were depending to perfect their musical +education; but both girls were sufficiently homesick after their two +years' absence from Boston to be more than eager to exchange their +_pension_ for a week's visit with Helen, who brought to them a fresh +budget of home news,--for which their eagerness increased as the date +for their return to America drew nearer. Emory and Eustis, too, added +familiar faces, so the days following the first dinner at the villa +proved to be full of interest and enjoyment to all concerned. + +The guests became familiar with each portion of the house and grounds, +the mysteries of Italian house-keeping were contrasted with the +limitations of boarding, and numerous topics of common import succeeded +each other without surcease. + +During the morning following the arrival of the guests, Armstrong +touched tentatively upon the subject of visiting the library. + +"We went there when we first came to Florence," Mary Sinclair replied; +"and we saw everything there was." + +Armstrong smiled indulgently, thinking of the little they had really +seen. + +"You know we are not very literary," explained Bertha, catching the +expression upon his face. + +"They are really more hopeless cases even than I," Helen added, +sympathetically. + +"Why don't you try Phil and me?" inquired Emory. "We went through the +Vatican library, so we are experts. At least they said it was a library. +The only books we saw there were a few in show-cases--the rest they kept +out of sight." + +"You would not recognize a real book if you saw it, Emory," Armstrong +replied, with resignation. "There is no hurry. Perhaps Miss Thayer will +go with me some day soon." + +"Indeed I will," Inez responded, with enthusiasm. "There is nothing I +wish so much to do." + +"Good." His appreciation was sincere. "I shall take real delight in +introducing to you my old-time friends, with whom I often differ but, +never quarrel." + +"Are they so real to you as that?" Inez asked, impressed by his tone. + +"They are indeed," Armstrong replied, seriously. "I visit and talk with +them just as I would with you all. But they have an aggravating +advantage over me, for, no matter how laboriously I argue with them, +their original statement stands unmoved there upon the written page, as +if enjoying my feeble effort to disturb its serenity, and defying me to +do my worst." + +"I would much prefer to give them an absent treatment," asserted Eustis. + +"Inez is clearly the psychological subject," Helen added. "At school +she was forever putting us girls to shame by her mortifying familiarity +with the classics. It is only fair that she should now be paid in her +own coin." + +"I accept both the invitation and the challenge," replied Inez, bowing +to her hostess, and, walking over to the low wall on which Helen had +seated herself, she threw her arm affectionately about her neck. "But +you must not embarrass me with such praise, or your husband will suffer +a keen disappointment. To study Latin and Greek out of school-books is +one thing; to meet face to face the personalities one has regarded as +divinities--even reading their very handwriting--is another. It makes +one wonder if she ever did know anything about them before." + +"That is exactly the spirit in which to approach the shrine, Miss +Thayer!" cried Armstrong, enthusiastically. "Let us frame a new +beatitude: 'Blessed is she who appreciates the glories of antiquity, for +she shall inherit the riches of the past.'" + +The contrast of the two girls in the rich Italian morning light was so +striking that Uncle Peabody paused in his approach after a successful +attack upon the rose-bushes, touched Armstrong upon the shoulder, and +nodded admiringly in their direction. They were separated a little from +the others, and were busily engaged in a conversation of their own, in +which no man hath a part, quite oblivious to the attention they +attracted. Inez was standing, and, even though seated, Helen's superb +head reached quite to her companion's shoulder, and the fair hair and +complexion were clearly defined against the darker hue of the face and +head bent down to meet her own. Her eyes, looking out into the distance +even as she spoke, reflected the calm, satisfied contentment of the +moment, while in the brown depths of the other's one could read an +ungratified ambition, an uncertainty not yet explained. Inez Thayer's +face was attractive, Helen's was beautiful--that beauty which one feels +belongs naturally to the person possessing it without the necessity of +analysis. + +Armstrong was evidently pleased with this comparison, as he had been +with all previous ones. Italy, it seemed to him, formed just the +background to set off to best advantage his wife's personal attractions. +Uncle Peabody smiled contentedly at the undisguised satisfaction which +was so clearly indicated in the younger man's face. + +"If there had been any girls in Boston who looked like that when I was +of sparking age," he whispered to Armstrong, "I should certainly have +married and settled down, as I ought to have done." + +"And allowed the world to perish of indigestion?" queried Armstrong, +smiling. + +"Scoffer! you do not deserve your good-fortune. Come, these roses are +becoming all thorns. Young ladies, may I intrude upon your _tete-a-tete_ +long enough to present you with the trophies of my after-breakfast +hunt?" + +"A thousand apologies, Uncle," cried Helen, taking the roses in her arms +and burying her face in their fragrant petals. "Oh! how beautiful! And +how idiotic ever to leave this Garden of Paradise and immure yourselves +within that musty old library. Do you not repent?" + +"I place the decision wholly in Miss Thayer's hands," said Armstrong; +but he glanced at Inez with evident expectancy. + +"Then I decide to go," replied the girl. "I am quite impatient to meet +the friends in whose good company Mr. Armstrong revelled before his +present reincarnation." + +"When?" asked Armstrong, quickly. + +"Now!" + +"Splendid! I will order the carriage at once." + +"There is rapid transit for you!" exclaimed Eustis. "Jack believes in +striking while the iron is hot." + +"What a narrow escape we have had," murmured Mary Sinclair, with a sigh +of relief. + +"Very well," said Helen, resignedly. "It may be just as well to have it +over. Jack has been looking forward to this ever since he turned his +face toward Florence, and he will be quite miserable until he has +actually gratified his anticipation.--But don't be away long, will you, +Jack?" + +"Miss Thayer will very likely find the staid company which we plan to +keep quite as stupid as the rest of you anticipate," replied Armstrong, +"so we may be home sooner than you expect." + +Inez had already disappeared in-doors to put on her hat, and Armstrong +started out to call a carriage. Helen intercepted him as he crossed the +veranda. + +"You won't mind if I don't go with you to-day, will you, Jack? If it +were just to see the treasures at the library I would urge them all to +go; but I know what is in your mind, dear. Truly, I will go with you +some time, and you shall try your experiment upon me; but I am not in +the mood for it just now. I ought not to leave the others, anyway." + +"It is all right, of course," he answered. "I wish you did feel like +going, but your substitute seems to be enthusiastic enough to make up +for your antipathy." + +"Don't call it that," Helen answered, half-reproachfully; "it is simply +that I am ashamed to have my ignorance exposed,--and it will give you +such a splendid chance really to know Inez. Now run along and have a +good time, and tell me all about it when you come home." + + * * * * * + +The little one-horse victoria soon left the villa behind, and was well +along on the narrow descending road before either of its occupants broke +the silence. As if by mutual consent, each was thinking what neither +would have spoken aloud. Helen had not seen the expression of +disappointment which passed over her husband's face as she spoke. He +would have given much if it might have been his wife beside him. He had +studied the girl carefully, and had found in her an intuitive sympathy +with the very subjects concerning which she disclaimed all knowledge. At +first he had thought that she exaggerated her limitations because of his +deeper study, but he soon discovered her absolute sincerity. It was a +lack of confidence in herself, he inwardly explained, and when once in +Florence he would give her that confidence which was the only element +lacking to her complete understanding. But as yet he had been unable to +get her inside the library, or even within range of the necessary +atmosphere. + +Inez Thayer's thoughts were upon the same subject, but from a different +standpoint. Her last words to Helen, when Uncle Peabody had interrupted +their conversation, framed a mild reproach. "If I had won a man like +Jack Armstrong," Inez whispered to her, "I would not allow any one, not +even you, to take my place on an excursion such as this, upon which he +has so set his whole heart." + +"You are a sweet little harmonizer, Inez," Helen had answered, +smilingly, "but you are a silly child none the less. Jack and I +understand each other perfectly. He knows my limitations, and, if I +went, I should only spoil his full enjoyment. You will understand it and +revel in it, and he will be supremely happy. If you were not so much +better fitted naturally for this sort of thing, of course I should go +rather than disappoint him, but, truly, the arrangement is much better +as it is." + +Inez had no opportunity to continue the conversation, but Helen had not +convinced her. Hers was an intense nature, and she had much more of the +romantic in her soul than her best friends gave her credit for. Her one +serious love-affair had proved only an annoyance and mortification. +Ferdinand De Peyster was in many ways a desirable _parti_, as mammas +with marriageable daughters were quite aware. He was possessed of a +handsome competency, was not inconvenienced by business +responsibilities, and his devotion to Inez Thayer was only whetted to a +greater degree of constancy by the opposition it received from its +particular object. He was not lacking in education, having spent four +years in the freshman class at Harvard; he was not unattractive, in his +own individual way, and his one great desire, not even second to his +striving for blue ribbons with his fine stable of blooded horses, was to +have her accept the position of head of his household. + +But Inez was repelled by the very subserviency of his devotion. Her +love rested heavily upon respect, and this could be won only by a man +who commanded it. John Armstrong fulfilled her ideal, and she wondered +why Fate had not fashioned the man whom she had attracted in a similar +mould. + +Armstrong looked up from his reverie half guiltily, and for a moment his +eyes met those of his companion squarely. Inez could not match the frank +glance--it seemed to her as if he must have read her thoughts; but the +heartiness of his words relieved her apprehension. + +"What a bore you must think me, Miss Thayer! I have not spoken a word +since we left the house." + +"I must assume my share of responsibility for the silence," Inez +replied, regaining her composure. "The seriousness of our quest must +have had a sobering effect upon us both." + +"But you won't find these old fellows so serious as you think," +Armstrong hastened to say. "They were humanists and products of the +movement which marked the breaking away from the ascetic severity +preceding them. But, after all, they were the first to realize that life +could be even better worth living if it contained beauty and happiness." + +"You see how little I know about them, in spite of Helen's attempt to +place me on a pedestal." + +"Why, if it had not been for their work," he continued, +enthusiastically, "the classics might still have remained as dead to us +as they were to those who lived in the thirteenth century. Instead of +studying Virgil and Homer, we should have been brought up on theological +literature and the 'Holy Fathers.'" + +"I feel just as I did at my coming-out party," Inez replied--"that same +feeling of awe and uncertainty. I am eager to go with you, yet I dread +it somehow. It is not a presentiment exactly,--it is--" + +"I know just what you mean," Armstrong interrupted, sympathetically; +"and, if you feel like that now, just wait until you see old Cerini, the +librarian. It is he who is responsible for my passion for this sort of +thing. Why, I remember, when I was here years ago and used to run in to +see him at the Laurenziana, I never regarded him as a mortal at all; and +I don't believe my reverence and veneration for the old man have abated +a whit in the twelve years gone by." + +The light vehicle had passed through the Porta alla Croce, and was +swaying from side to side like a ship at sea, rattling over the stones +of the narrow city streets at such a rate that conversation was no +longer a pleasure. + +"Just why Florentine cabmen are content to drive at a snail's pace on a +good road and feel impelled to rush at breakneck speed over bad ones is +a phase of Italian character explained neither by Baedeker nor by Hare," +remarked Armstrong, leaning nearer to Inez to make himself heard. + +With a loud snap of his whip and a guttural "Whee-oop," the _cocchiere_ +rounded the statue of John of the Black Bands, just missed the ancient +book-stand immortalized by Browning in the _Ring and the Book_, and came +to a sudden stop before the unpretentious entrance to the Biblioteca +Laurenziana. + +"You have been here before, of course?" he asked his companion as they +passed through the wicket-gate into the ancient cloisters of San +Lorenzo. + +"Once, with Baedeker to tell me to go on, and with the tall Italian +custodian to stop me when I reached the red velvet rope stretched across +the room, which I suppose marks the Dante division between Purgatory and +Paradise." + +"This time you shall not only enter Paradise, but you shall behold the +Beatific Vision," laughed Armstrong. + +Passing by the main entrance of the library at the head of the stone +stairs, Armstrong led the way along the upper cloister to a small door, +where he pressed a little electric button--an accessory not included in +Michelangelo's original plans for the building. A moment later they +heard the sound of descending footsteps, and presently a bearded face +looked out at them through the small grated window. The inspection was +evidently satisfactory, for the heavy iron bar on the inside was +released and the door opened. + +"Good-morning, Maritelli," said Armstrong in Italian. "Is the +_direttore_ disengaged?" + +"He is in his study, signore, awaiting your arrival." + +Maritelli dropped the iron bar back into place with a loud clang and +then led the way up the short flight of stone steps to the librarian's +study. Armstrong detained Inez a moment at the top. + +"I brought you in this way because I want you to see Cerini in his +frame. It is a picture worthy the brush of an old master." + +Maritelli knocked gently on the door and placed his ear against it to +hear the response. Then he opened it quietly and bowed as Armstrong and +his companion entered. + +"Buon' giorno, padre." Armstrong gravely saluted the old man as he +looked up. "I have brought to you another seeker after the gold in your +treasure-house." + +Cerini's face showed genuine delight as he rose and extended both hands +to Inez. "Your wife!" he exclaimed; "I am glad indeed to greet her." + +Armstrong flushed. "No, padre, not my wife, but her dearest friend, Miss +Thayer." + +The old man let one arm fall to his side with visible disappointment, +which he vainly sought to conceal. + +"I am sorry," he said, simply, taking Inez' hand in his own. "I have +known this dear friend for many years, and have loved him for the love +he gave to my work. I had hoped to greet his wife here, and to find that +the _literae humaniores_ were to her the elixir of life that they are to +me--and to him." + +"When I tell her of my visit she will be eager to come to you as I +have," said Inez, strangely touched by the keenness of his +disappointment. "To-day she could not leave her guests." + +"Will you first show Miss Thayer the illuminations and the rarest of the +incunabula?" asked Armstrong, eager to change the subject; "and then +will you let us come back here to talk with you?" + +"With pleasure, my son, with pleasure. What shall I show her first?" + +"That little 'Book of Hours' illuminated by Francesco d'Antonio, padre." + +Cerini pulled up the great bunch of keys suspended from the end of his +girdle and unlocked one of the drawers in the ancient wooden desk in +front of him. + +"I always wonder how you dare keep so priceless a treasure in that desk, +and why it is not put on exhibition where visitors may see it," +Armstrong queried. + +Cerini laughed quietly. "There are many other treasures, my son, equally +precious, as you know well, scattered about in these desks and drawers, +where I alone can find them." + +"How dare you take the risk?" + +Cerini's face showed a gentle craftiness. "We are in Italy, my son. If +any one could find these gems, any one could be librarian"--and the old +man chuckled quietly to himself. + +Inez' eyes were fastened upon a little purple velvet case inlaid with +jewels. Cerini opened it carefully, exposing a small volume similarly +bound and similarly adorned. Armstrong eagerly watched the interest in +the girl's face as the full splendor of the masterpiece impressed itself +upon her--the marvellous delicacy of design, the gorgeousness of color, +the magnificence of the decoration and the miniatures. Inez drew in her +breath excitedly and bent nearer to the magnifying-glass which it was +necessary to use in tracing the intricacy of the work. + +"Wonderful!" she cried, and then was silent. + +"It belonged to Lorenzo the Magnificent, and represents the finest of +the _quattrocento_ work, my daughter," explained the old man, pleased as +was Armstrong by her unfeigned admiration. "The patrons of the book in +the fifteenth century considered gems of thought as the most precious of +all jewels. The page containing them must be written upon the finest and +the rarest parchment. They could not inlay costly stones, so they +employed the most famous artists to place upon the page in beaten gold +and gorgeous colors a representation of the jewels and miniatures as +perfect as art at its highest could produce. Can you wonder, my +daughter, that men brought up in the school of neo-Platonism should look +upon the invention of printing as an evil and an innovation to be +opposed?" + +Inez would not permit Cerini to close the volume until she had feasted +her eyes upon every page. + +"Have you not prepared me for an anti-climax?" she asked, with a sigh, +as Armstrong suggested a visit to the room of illuminations. "Surely +there is nothing else here to surpass what I have just seen." + +The librarian answered. "Nothing to surpass it, truly, but other volumes +equally interesting." + +The old man led them into a larger room filled with wooden cases whose +glass tops were covered with faded green curtains. Costly tapestries +lined the walls, but Inez' attention was quickly taken from them as +Cerini pulled aside the curtains and disclosed the resplendent wealth +beneath. Heavy choir-books, classic manuscripts, books of hours, +breviaries embellished by Lorenzo Monaco, master of Fra Angelico, by +Benozzo Gozzoli, whose frescos still make the Riccardi famous, and other +artists whose names have long since been forgotten, but whose work +remains as an everlasting monument to a departed art. Magnificent +examples of every school, from the early Byzantine to the decadent style +of the sixteenth century, combined to teach the present the omnipotence +of the past. + +From case to case they passed, their guide indicating the variations +and the significance of the different schools, out into the great +library itself, in which, with its noble yet simple proportions as laid +down by Michelangelo, Inez found a relief after the gorgeousness and +grandeur of the last hour. Armstrong pointed out to her the _plutei_ +upon which the great books rested, and to which they now remained +chained as in the olden days, four centuries back, when they began their +eternal vigil. Life outside the old walls had changed mightily since +Cosimo de' Medici, the first grand-duke, laid their foundations. Cosimo, +"_pater patriae_," the real founder of the collection, Pietro and +Giovanni de' Medici had come and gone; Lorenzo il Magnifico had lived +and died, bequeathing to them his illustrious name; Charles VIII. of +France had destroyed the power of the house of the Medici, the Medici +had again regained their own, the house of Lorraine had succeeded them, +the separate states had been merged into a great kingdom--and still the +volumes held their places at the end of their chains, as if to prove the +immutability of learning as compared with the changeability of princes. + +At Armstrong's suggestion, Cerini led them back into his study, where +the old man again took his place at his desk, as his visitors seated +themselves where they could best watch him and listen to his words. It +was, indeed, as Armstrong had expressed it, a picture for an old master. +Cerini was clad in the black silk soutane of his learned order, with the +_biretta_ upon his head. He was spare, and the skin upon his face and +hands was as dried and colored as the ancient parchment of the books +with which he lived. The dim light coming through the stained-glass +window enhanced the weirdness of his aspect, and as one looked he seemed +the personification of the ancient written manuscript vivified and +speaking the words which one would have expected to read upon the page. + + [Illustration: + SLOWLY THE SPELL BEGAN TO WORK UPON INEZ' + BRAIN. SHE WAS NO LONGER IN THE PRESENT--SHE + WAS A WOMAN OF ITALY OF FOUR CENTURIES BACK] + +"My daughter," he was saying to Inez, "you, too, are a humanist, as my +young friend and I are, or you could not manifest so true an +understanding as you do. For humanism, my daughter, is not only the love +of antiquity: it is the worship of it--a worship carried so far that it +is not limited to adoration alone, but which forces one to reproduce. By +the same token the humanist is the man who not only knows intimately the +ancients and is inspired by them: it is he who is so fascinated by their +magic spell that he copies them, imitates them, rehearses their lessons, +adopts their models and their methods, their examples and their gods, +their spirit and their tongue." + +Then Cerini passed on in his conversation to the old-time writers +themselves. The little study was poorly ventilated, and the air was +heavy. The ancient tomes exuded their peculiar odor, and the low, +sing-song voice of the speaker seemed far removed from the life they had +just left outside. Slowly the spell began to work upon Inez' brain. She +was no longer in the present--she was a woman of Italy of four centuries +back. Petrarch, with his laurel-crowned head, rose up before her and +recited verses written for Laura; Politian gave to her of his wisdom; +Machiavelli discussed Florentine politics with her. It was not the voice +of Cerini the librarian which she heard--it was the veritable voice from +the dead and buried past. She furtively glanced at Armstrong and saw in +his face a light which she knew Helen had never seen there, and in her +heart she felt a guilty joyousness at the advantage she had gained. It +was Leonardo sitting at the old desk now--Leonardo the master of art, of +sculpture, the forerunner, the man-god against the god-man. She pressed +her hand to her head; it was dripping moisture. Would he never stop? It +was becoming fearsome, unbearable. Her eyes were fixed upon the aged +priestly clad figure before her; she could not move them. What power +held her, what magic controlled even her thoughts? She tried to speak to +Armstrong, to tell him that she was ill, but her mouth seemed parched +and she could not speak. She looked at Cerini's chair again. The old man +was no longer there. Machiavelli had taken his place and was uttering +diatribes against the state. She must cry out--she could not. She +started to her feet--then she fell back, and all became a blank. When +she revived, a few moments later, it was in the sunny enclosure of the +cloister garden, whither Armstrong had anxiously carried her, and where +the fresh air served to relieve the tension and to counteract the +influence which had so overpowered her. + + + + +V + + +By mutual consent, Miss Thayer and Armstrong decided not to mention the +rather dramatic finale to their first excursion to the library. Inez +experienced the deepest mortification, while Jack blamed himself +severely that he had not watched his companion more carefully. If he had +done this, he repeated to himself, he might easily have anticipated and +avoided the unpleasant climax to an otherwise thoroughly enjoyable +morning. Miss Thayer, however, would not listen to his apologies: he had +accepted her as a comrade, and she had proved herself unequal to the +test. Armstrong tried to reassure her, but his efforts were not +eminently successful. + +The whole affair, in spite of their disclaimers, made a considerable +impression upon them both. Armstrong knew that it had not been weakness +alone; for even his brief acquaintance with her told him that strength +was a salient point in her character. She was impressionable--he +realized that--but surely not to the extent of losing all control over +herself. Was it--and Armstrong feared lest Inez should read his mind as +the thought came to him--was it that same irresistible influence of +those ancient spirits, coming out from the past to her as they had so +many times to him, recognizing her as a reincarnation of themselves, and +claiming her, even for that, brief moment of unconsciousness, as a part +of what had gone before? + +Inez pleaded a headache upon reaching the villa, and asked that her +lunch be sent to her room; but it was long after Annetta had left the +tray upon the table that she was able to taste, even sparingly, the +tempting delicacies which were placed before her. What can be more +searching than a woman's self-examination? She had told Armstrong that +she blamed herself for her weakness; so she did, but it was not wholly +the weakness of losing consciousness. Who was this man, and what this +influence which had so suddenly entered into her life and assumed such +immediate control over her? She felt that she could resist either +separately, but together they produced a power which she questioned her +ability to oppose. And the strange part of it all was that no one was +forcing it upon her. She knew perfectly well that she need never go to +the library again unless she chose; but she knew equally well what her +choice must inevitably be, if the opportunity were offered her. + +Even as she recalled her experience, a thrill half of delight, half of +apprehension, passed over her. What did it all mean? Armstrong compelled +her respect, but it was ridiculous even to wonder whether or not the +sentiments he inspired were of a more serious nature. The subjects in +which he was interested appealed to her highest self and fascinated her, +but beyond this what possible force could they possess to render her so +immediately subservient to their demands? What was there about it all +which made it seem so inexpressively delicious? And what of him, of this +man above whose head the ancients had already placed the halo of their +approval, who stood to her as the personification of ideal manhood? + +These were some of the questions Inez Thayer asked herself that +afternoon, wrestling within and striving honestly to decide her course; +but even as she did so she found her thoughts again centering themselves +upon Armstrong as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be carried +back to the experiences of the morning. She had no reasonable excuse to +leave Florence, which instinctively she felt to be the safest thing to +do; and, besides this, her spirit revolted at the thought that she could +not meet the problem face to face and master it. She must do it, she +would do it; and, having finally arrived at this determination, she came +down, just before dinner, and joined her friends in the garden, where +they were enjoying the soft close of the perfect Italian day. + +"There you are!" Helen welcomed her with outstretched arms. "Is your +headache better?" + +"Yes, thank you," Inez replied, forcing a smile; "the air was very close +in the library, and then, too, I found so much to make me thoughtful." + +"Then you were not disappointed?" Emory asked. + +"Disappointed? It was wonderful. You don't know how much you all +missed." + +"You look as if Jack had shown you some spooks," remarked Eustis; "you +are as white as one yourself." + +The color quickly returned to Inez' face. "I am always like that when I +have one of these wretched headaches," she explained. "But, truly, I +never had such a remarkable experience. I can quite understand Mr. +Armstrong's devotion. I never knew before how fascinating such learning +really is." + +"Did he actually conjure up those old fellows and put them through their +paces for you?" Emory asked. + +Miss Thayer was in no mood for bantering. "It is not possible for you to +understand without experiencing it yourself," she said, quietly. + +"Or even afterward, I suspect," Bertha Sinclair added, slyly. + +"I am so glad that you enjoyed it," said Helen. "I couldn't get much out +of Jack, and I was afraid that you had passed a stupid morning and that +the headache was the natural result." + +"I shall never forget it--never!" Inez murmured. + +Helen regarded her attentively for a moment. "I had no idea it would +make so strong an impression on you," she said at length. "Now that it +is over, you and Jack will both feel better satisfied." + +"You must see Cerini, Helen, and let him show you those wonderful books +and explain everything, just as he did to us." + +"So I will, sometime," Helen smiled. "Perhaps he could bring out my +dormant possibilities." + +"It is time we dressed for dinner," remarked Mary Sinclair, rising. "You +and Inez are already _en grande tenue_, but the rest of us are +shockingly unconventional." + +As the Sinclair girls hurried into the house, closely followed by the +men, Helen leaned against the balustrade at the end of the bowling-green +and watched the deepening color which touched alike the spires of Santa +Croce and the turret of the Palazzo Vecchio, gleamed on the dome of the +Cathedral and Giotto's tower, and spread like wine over the placid +surface of the Arno. Beyond the river rose the basilica of San Miniato, +its ancient pediment sharply outlined against the sky. Helen's thoughts +wandered even farther away than her eyes. Inez watched her for several +moments before slipping her arm about her waist. + +"Oh, Inez!" Helen was startled for an instant. "Did you ever see such a +wonderful spot as this?" she continued, recovering herself. "Some new +beauty discloses itself uninvited hour by hour. Every time I come into +the garden I find some lovely flower I never saw before, or meet some +sweet odor which makes me shut my eyes and just draw it in with delight. +Each time I look toward Florence the view is different, and each new +view more beautiful than the last. Oh, Inez darling, is it an enchanted +palace that Jack has brought me to, or is it just because I am so +blissfully, supremely, foolishly happy?" Helen embraced her friend +enthusiastically. + +"Let us call it the enchanted palace, dear," Inez answered as Helen +released her, "and you the modern Circe, with power to make all about +you as beautiful and as happy as the ancient Circe to cast malign +influences." + +Helen laughed. "Why not take it further and say that the transformation +of the ancient Circe is the final triumph of Uncle Peabody's labors? Had +his theories been in force among the friends of Ulysses, the fair lady +could never have turned them into swine. But tell me, did you not find +Jack a very different person from what you had expected after seeing him +here at home?" + +"I did, indeed," assented Inez, soberly. + +"Is he not simply splendid?" Helen's face beamed with pride. "It was +just as much of a surprise to me. Of course, I have always known that he +was interested in all these things, but it has only been since we were +married that I have realized how much he actually knows.--I wish I +thought there was even the slightest chance of his being able to lead me +up to his heights, he is so eager for it. I shall give him an +opportunity to try his experiment, of course, but the trouble is that in +spite of the interest and fascination which I do feel, his hobby always +seems to me to be hemmed in with needless limitations. For my part, I +don't see why we can't take the best these master spirits of the past +can give us, just as Jack says, but without ourselves becoming a part of +the past.--You see how absolutely hopeless I am. I wonder how in the +world he ever came to be attracted to me." + +"You are the only one who wonders." + +"Oh, I know that my hair is not red, and that I don't squint, and all +that, but Jack is so fascinated by everything scholarly that I don't see +why he didn't select an intellectual wife. Why, I don't even wear +glasses!" + +Inez smiled at the picture Helen drew. "The rest of us girls understand +why he made just the selection he did, Helen." + +"I never wanted to be intellectual before. Until now I have always +considered the caricatures of the Boston Browning woman as typical of +the highly educated species; but you are showing me that a girl can be +human and intellectual at the same time." + +"I wish I could show you that you make too much of a mountain out of +this intellectual bugbear," Inez replied, candidly. "Your husband is a +very unusual man. His interest in the humanities is beyond anything one +can appreciate without seeing him as I saw him this morning. He longs to +take you with him into this life, and if I were in your place I should +let him be the one to discover my lack of understanding, if I really did +lack it, instead of insisting upon it as a foregone conclusion. For +myself, I don't take much stock in it. I remember too well how quick a +certain Miss Cartwright was at school to grasp new ideas, and I have not +noticed any serious retrogression since." + +Helen pondered carefully over her friend's criticism before replying. "I +suppose it does seem like obstinacy," she said, finally--"to him as well +as to you; yet to myself it appears perfectly consistent. The one thing +which gives me an idea of the extent of his devotion is my music. You +know how I adore it, how much a part of my life it has always been--yet +it means nothing to Jack, and he therefore takes no particular interest +in it. He went to the Symphonies and the Opera with me while we were +engaged, and to concerts and recitals, but I knew all the time that it +was just to please me. I made up my mind that when we were married I +would keep up my interest in this 'devotion' of mine only as much as I +could without having it interfere with those things which he cared for +or which we could enjoy together. But the fact that music means less to +him than it means to me does not make me love him any the less." + +"But you don't enter into this particular interest of his, even to +please him, as he did to please you." + +"Because I appreciate from the experience I have just mentioned how +little real satisfaction it would give either one of us. Looking back, I +feel that I was positively selfish to let him go to those concerts with +me, and I shall never inflict them on him again. I am sure that he knows +how I feel, and I think he ought to be grateful for my consideration." + +Inez pressed Helen's hand. "You ought to know best, dear," she answered. +"You both possess such wonderful possibilities that it would be a shame +not to combine them. It seems to me that you might come to an +appreciation of each other's interests by becoming familiar with +them.--I wonder if you realize what a man your husband is?" + +Helen leaned over and kissed her impulsively. "I realize more than I +ever intend to let him know, dear child. He would become unbearably +conceited were he even to guess how much he has already become to me. I +really did not want to marry him--or to marry any one--but he swept away +every objection, just as he always does, and now I find myself wondering +how in the world I ever existed without him. Oh, Inez"--Helen's face +became tense in her earnestness--"we girls think we know a whole lot +about marriage. We anticipate it--we dread it; but, when one actually +enters into her new estate, she knows how infinitely more it is to be +anticipated, if happy, than her fondest dream. But if unhappy--then her +dread must have been infinitesimal compared with the reality." + +"'Marriage is either a complete union or a complete isolation,'" quoted +Inez. + +"As I tell you, Jack and I understand each other perfectly," Helen +continued, confidently, "and that means so much to a girl. One of the +first things I told him, after we became engaged, was that if our +affection stood for anything it must stand for everything. If at any +time while we were engaged, or even after we were married, he felt that +he had made a mistake in thinking me the one woman in the world for him, +he was to come to me frankly and say so, and together we would plan how +best to meet the situation. Suppose, for instance, that Jack met some +one whom he really loved better than me. It would be an awful +experience, but how much less of a tragedy to recognize the fact than to +live on, a hollow, miserable existence, such as we see in so many +instances around us." + +"And he has not confessed to you yet?" + +"Not yet," Helen laughed, "and we shall have been married six weeks +to-morrow. That is a pretty good start, is it not?" + +"But how about yourself--have you the same privilege?" + +"Of course; but that is not important, for I shall never see any one fit +to ride in the same automobile with Jack." + +"What did you say about my automobile? Has it arrived?" + +Armstrong's face was filled with eager expectation as he came up behind +Helen, followed by Uncle Peabody. He drew her affectionately toward him. + +"You wretch!" cried Helen, "you have been eavesdropping." + +"Not an eavesdrop," protested Jack, "and I can prove it by a witness. +When I came down-stairs I looked for my beloved spouse upon the terrace +and found her not. The gentle Annetta confided to me that you and the +Signorina Thayer were in the garden; I set out upon my quest and found +you here discussing my automobile or some one else's. Again I ask you, +have you news of its arrival?" + +"No, Jack--no news as yet; and you make out so good a case that I must +absolve you. Since you insist on knowing, we were discussing the very +prosaic subject of matrimony." + +"Why discourage Miss Thayer from making the attempt simply because of +your own sad case?" Armstrong queried, releasing his wife and seating +himself beside her on the edge of the balustrade. "Marriage is a +lottery--so saith the philosopher. We all know the preponderance of +blanks and small prizes, yet each one feels certain that he will be the +lucky one. Once in a while a chap pulls out the capital prize, and that +encourages the others, though it ought to discourage them, because it +lessens the chances just so much. But what I object to is the growling +afterward, when each should realize that he is getting exactly what he +ought to have expected." + +"But it is not fair that both you and Helen should have drawn the lucky +numbers," Inez declared. "It makes it so hopeless for the rest of us." + +"There, Sir Fisher," cried Helen, "you have gained the compliment for +which you strove. Art satisfied?" + +"No one has drawn me yet," suggested Uncle Peabody, "and I am a capital +prize--I admit it." + +"It is a shame to throw cold water on Miss Thayer's beautiful +sentiment," continued Armstrong. "Such thoughts are so rare that they +should be encouraged; but the facts of the case are that the capital +prizes in the men's lottery were discontinued long ago. No--among the +girls they are still to be won at rare intervals, but the only way to +distinguish the men is by looking up their rating in Bradstreet's, or +their mother's family name in the Social Register. Other than this, one +man is as bad as another, if not worse." + +Inez looked at Armstrong for a moment with a puzzled expression, but +failed to find any suggestion that he was speaking lightly. And +yet--what a change in attitude from the morning! She hesitated to turn +the subject upon what seemed to her to be forbidden ground, yet she +could not resist opposing his expressions, even though they might be +uttered flippantly. Her voice contained a reproach. + +"You spoke differently of men this morning." + +Armstrong turned to her quickly. "This morning?" he repeated. "Oh, but I +was referring to the humanists, and to ancient ones at that. I am +talking now of men in general, rather than of those rare exceptions, +ancient or modern, who have succeeded in separating themselves from +their commonplace contemporaries. Of course, my respect for the +old-timers is supreme, because their great accomplishments were in the +face of so much greater obstacles. Since then the world has had five +hundred years in which to degenerate." + +"Don't pay any attention to him, Inez," Helen interrupted, complacently. +"He is simply trying to start an argument, and he does not believe a +word he says. He really looks upon men as infinitely superior beings in +the past, present, and future, and this self-abnegation on the part of +himself and his sex is only a passing conceit." + +"I refuse to be side-tracked," Armstrong insisted. "I grant that the +conversation started more in jest than in earnest, but I maintain my +position, none the less. Modern civilization has brought to us a +wonderful material development, but intellectual advance, instead of +keeping abreast of the material, has positively retrograded." + +"You really make me feel ashamed to be living in such an abominable +age," suggested Uncle Peabody. + +Inez was serious. "I am quite incompetent to carry on this discussion +with you, Mr. Armstrong," she said, disregarding the others, "and I +admire, as you know, the marvellous accomplishments of these +'old-timers,' as you call them, wondering at their power to overcome the +obstacles which we know existed. Yet I like to believe that the ages +which have passed have marked an advance on all sides rather than a +retrogression." + +"So should I like to," assented Armstrong, "if I could; but look at the +facts. William James has just succeeded in making philosophy popular, +but Plato and Aristotle gave it to us before the birth of Christ. We +enthuse over Shakespeare and Dante and Milton, but Homer and Virgil gave +us the grandest of poetry two thousand years ago. The _quattrocento_, +that period which so fires me with enthusiasm, gave us Raphael as an +artist, together with Leonardo and Michelangelo as the foremost examples +of humanists. Whom have we had since to equal them?" + +"All this is beyond argument," Inez admitted. "But is this the fault of +the men or of the times? Conditions are so changed that the same kind of +work can never be done again. The telephone, the telegraph, railroad +trains, fast steamships, the daily papers--everything distracts the +modern worker from devoting himself wholly and absolutely to his single +purpose; but with this distraction is it not also true that the modern +worker gives to the world what the world really needs most under the +present conditions? In other words, would not these same great men, if +set down in the twentieth century, produce work very similar to what +modern great men have given and are giving us?" + +"I should be sorry enough to think so," affirmed Jack. "What a pity it +would be!" + +Uncle Peabody's mood had changed from amusement to interest. "If I +really thought you were sincere in the attitude you take," he said, +addressing Armstrong, "I could prescribe no better cure for your +complaint than to force you to subject yourself, for one single week, to +those same conditions which you seem to admire so much." + +"If you refer to conveniences, Mr. Cartwright," interrupted Armstrong, +"I will admit without argument that you are right. These are wholly the +result of material development." + +"Let us confine ourselves to intellectual achievements if you choose," +continued Uncle Peabody. "Without an intellect, could one harness steam +and electricity and make them obedient to the human will? Is not a +wireless message an echo from the brain? What is the telephone if not a +product of thought?" + +"You and Miss Thayer are arguing my case far better than I can do it +myself," replied Armstrong, undisturbed. "The triumphs of Watt and +Edison and Marconi and Bell are all intellectual, even though +utilitarian. Each of these men has proved himself humanistic, in that he +has given to the world the best that is in him, and not simply modified +or readapted some previous achievement. If they were not limited by +living in an age of specialization they might even have been humanists. +Right here in Italy you see the same thing to-day. The Italians are +beyond any other race intellectually fit to rule the world now as they +once did, and it is simply because they have been unable to withstand +materialism that they have not reclaimed their own." + +"Just what do you mean by 'humanism,' Jack?" Helen asked, abruptly. + +"The final definition of modern humanism will not be written for several +years," Armstrong answered. "The world is not yet ready for it, and I am +afraid Cerini's creed of ancient humanism would strike you as being +rather heavy." + +"Let me see if I could comprehend it." Helen looked across to Inez, and +the eyes of the two girls met with mutual understanding. "Can you repeat +it?" + +"I know it word for word," her husband replied, eagerly, delighted to +have Helen manifest an interest. "It was the first lesson the old man +taught me, years ago. 'The humanist,' Cerini says, 'is the man who not +only knows intimately the ancients and is inspired by them: it is he who +is so fascinated by their magic spell that he copies them, imitates +them, rehearses their lessons, adopts their models and their methods, +their examples and their gods, their spirit and their tongue.'" + +Helen was visibly disappointed. "I thought I had an idea," she said, +slowly, "but I was wrong. Inez used the word 'humanities' a few moments +ago, and I once heard President Eliot say that this was simply another +name for a liberal education--teaching men to drink in the inspiration +of all the ages and to seek to make their age the best." + +"You are not wrong, Helen," continued Armstrong, "unless you understand +President Eliot to mean that the ages which have come since these great +men lived have been able to add particularly to what has gone before. +All that is included in what Cerini says." + +"Then the present, which I love so well, means nothing?" + +"It means a great deal." Armstrong laughed at the injured tone of +Helen's voice. "The great material achievements of the present, which +you just heard cited by Miss Thayer and Uncle Peabody, are of vast +importance, but the age does not stand out as a period of intellectual +progression. The achievements themselves, and the new conditions which +they introduce, make that impossible." + +"Can we not admire the past and enjoy what it has given us without +becoming a part of it ourselves?" persisted Helen. + +"Not if we remain true to our ideals. I spoke just now of Leonardo and +Michelangelo as being the foremost examples of humanists. By that I mean +that they represent the highest point of intellectual manhood. Da Vinci +was a great writer, a great painter, a great scientist, a great +engineer, a great mechanician, while Buonarroti was famous not only as a +sculptor, but also as a painter, an architect, and a poet. And these men +had to develop their own precedent, while all who have striven for more +than mediocrity since then have propped themselves up on the work of +these and other great masters. Can you wonder that my own great +ambition, quite impossible of accomplishment, is to emulate these +men--not in the same pursuits, but in some way, in any way, which +enables me to give to the world the best that is in me. Should I gratify +myself in this, that which I accomplished would be done simply in the +fulfilment of my effort, and I should gain my recompense in the +knowledge that it _was_ my best. This is my understanding of Cerini's +creed." + +"All this is most interesting," admitted Helen. "It is indeed splendid +to know the ancients intimately, and to receive their inspiration. It is +fine to imitate them and to rehearse their lessons, but I don't see why +we should bind ourselves down to the old-time limitations by using their +methods when, to my mind, our own methods are so much better suited to +modern conditions?" + +"Your position is fully justified, Helen, if you really believe these +methods to be limitations," replied Armstrong, seriously. "For my part, +I do not feel this. I accept the Cerini creed without qualification. I +grant you that many things of the past are limitations, but there are +certain cardinal principles which must remain the same so long as the +world lasts and which are not subject to what you call 'modern +conditions.'" + +"To be wholly consistent, Jack," pursued Uncle Peabody, "should you not +adopt their tongue--as called for in the creed?" + +"Not necessarily, as the 'creed' is, of course, idealistic; but the only +reason I do not do so is because of the limitations which are placed +upon us--this time by modern civilization. Cerini and I converse for +hours together in the Latin tongue, but it is very seldom that I find +the opportunity to do this. Why is it that Latin is used in medicine, in +botany, in science, to give names to various specimens or species? +Simply because French, German, Italian, English may be forgotten +languages a few centuries hence, but Latin--the so-called dead +language--will be as enduring then as now." + +"I can never hope to become as much of an enthusiast as you, Mr. +Armstrong," Inez said, finally, as the others gave up the argument in +despair; "and I suppose you will never forgive me if I say that I fear +it would be very uncomfortable for me if I did. You must simply let me +browse around the edges as a neophyte while you and the master quaff the +nectar and ambrosia of the gods." + +"And I cannot even do that," added Helen, rising from the balustrade. +"I cannot give up my dear present even to agree with my learned husband. +You don't want me to say that I am sorry I am living among all these +imperfect conditions when I really find them very satisfactory and +enjoyable? It is wrong of you so to break down my modern idols. There +are our guests," she continued, as a laughing group appeared on the +veranda. "As penance I decree that you shall take each of us by the hand +and lead us back to the villa--the Humanist flanked by the Pagan and the +Christian. Arise, thou ancient one, and lead us on!" + + + + +VI + + +The visits which Armstrong and Miss Thayer made to the library became of +daily occurrence. Encouraged by his companion's interest, and the +eagerness with which she assimilated the enthusiasm which he and Cerini +were only too willing to share with her, Armstrong promptly embraced a +scheme for definite work suggested to him by the librarian. Inez at +first proved only a sympathetic spectator, but by the third or fourth +day she found herself a distinct part of the working force. She demurred +half-heartedly, but when it became evident that she could really make +herself of service she entered into it with characteristic intensity +which increased from day to day. + +Soon after the departure of the guests the automobile arrived, and +transformed Armstrong from a Humanist into an Egoist and then into a +Mechanist. For the moment the material concern took precedence over the +intellectual. + +"Of course I expect to have the chauffeur do the work once we are under +way," he half apologized to Uncle Peabody, who with a good-natured +interest watched him taking the precious machine to pieces; "but before +I trust it to any one I must understand it thoroughly myself." + +"Quite right, quite right," Uncle Peabody assented, cheerfully. "I +believe in that theory entirely. I have noticed when my friends have +found themselves stalled on the road that it never annoys them half so +much if they can explain the reason why. Besides, from a secondary +consideration, I suppose it adds something to the safety to know the +machine yourself." + +As the car had arrived in advance of the chauffeur, Armstrong had plenty +of time to study the mechanism. It came to pieces with consummate ease. +Its new owner had never claimed much knowledge along these lines, but +the simplicity of this particular machine increased his respect for his +judgment as a purchaser and his natural though hitherto undeveloped +ability as a mechanic. + +"These Frenchmen," he confided enthusiastically to Uncle Peabody, "have +the rest of the world beaten to a stand-still in building automobiles. +My hat is off to them." + +"Would you not be even more comfortable if you removed your shirt as +well?" suggested Uncle Peabody, mischievously, as he glanced +sympathetically at Armstrong's face, from which the perspiration rolled +down onto his collar in response to his unusual exertions and the heat +of the full Italian sun. + +"It is nearly to pieces now," Armstrong replied, complacently. "I will +wait until it is cooler before I set it up again." + +True to his word, Armstrong began work on the restoration early next +morning, but the heat of the day found him still at his labors and in no +cheerful frame of mind. Uncle Peabody's philosophical suggestions had +proved unacceptable some hours before. Helen's remark that she did not +believe the three extra pieces Jack held despairingly in his hand had +come from that particular machine at all brought forth such a withering +expression of pitying contempt that she flew back to the house in alarm. +Even the servants found that the opposite side of the villa demanded +their especial care. A truce was declared for the _colazione_, but +Armstrong devoured his repast in silence, showing no interest in the +animated conversation, and with scant apologies left the table long in +advance of the others to resume his task. + +At five o'clock a dusty _vettura_ drove noisily into the driveway, and +from his point of vantage, lying on his back underneath the automobile, +Armstrong saw Mr. Ferdinand De Peyster alight. With a curse muttered, +not from any antipathy to his visitor, but simply on general principles, +he laboriously extricated himself from his position with a view to the +extension of hospitality. De Peyster saw the movement and hastily +approached. + +Ferdinand De Peyster was a distinct individuality, which in a degree +explained the criticism which some of his friends passed upon him. His +foreign descent, though now tempered by two generations of American +influence, was probably responsible for the fact that he was "different +from other men." Always faultlessly dressed, his taste followed the +continental styles rather than those which other men about him were in +the habit of adopting, so while Americans in Florence were clad in +flannels, _neglige_ shirts, and white buckskins, De Peyster appeared at +the Villa Godilombra immaculate in the conventional lounging-coat, +tucked shirt and lavender gloves, with white spats over his +patent-leather shoes. There was more of a contrast between visitor and +guest at that moment than Armstrong realized as he emerged in his old +clothes, thoroughly soaked through with perspiration, and with his hands +and face grimy with oil and dirt. + +De Peyster drew back instinctively as the full vision of Jack's figure +presented itself. "Comprenez vous francais?" + +Armstrong stopped in his advance as he heard the question and noted the +superior tone in which it was delivered. Then the humor of the situation +appealed to him. + +"Yes, sir," he replied, respectfully, "or English, if you prefer." + +De Peyster's face brightened. "Ah! Mr. Armstrong brought you over with +him?" he remarked, becoming almost sociable. + +"Yes, sir," Jack replied, truthfully. "Is there anything I can do for +you, sir?" + +"I am Mr. De Peyster," said Ferdinand, with condescension--"a friend of +your master's in America. Is he at home this afternoon?" + +"Yes, sir--" + +Before Armstrong could continue De Peyster approached nearer to him and +lowered his voice. "I say--is there a Miss Thayer from America visiting +here just now?" + +A quick movement on De Peyster's part deposited a franc in Jack's grimy +palm. Holding his hand in front of him, his astonished look alternated +between the piece of silver and his friend's face until he found himself +unable to keep up the farce. + +"De Peyster, you are a fraud!" Armstrong laughed boisterously at the +look of dismay in Ferdinand's face as a realization came to him. "Do you +mean to tell me that the joys of a honeymoon and life in Italy have +wrought so many changes that you don't recognize me?" + +"But can you blame me?" De Peyster joined in the merriment. "Run and get +some one to tell you how you look." + +The sound of this unexpected hilarity reached the terrace, and Uncle +Peabody, flanked by both of the girls, came rushing out fearful lest +Jack's problem had resulted in temporary mental derangement. A glance at +the picture before them, however, explained the situation better than +words, and Helen hurried forward to greet her visitor while Inez +followed behind. + +"Ferdy De Peyster--in the flesh!" cried Helen. "What does this mean, and +when did you reach Florence?" + +Armstrong gave him no opportunity to reply. "He prefers to speak French, +Helen, and he is just throwing his money around." + +Then turning to De Peyster and exhibiting his _pourboire_, he repeated, +"Comprenez vous francais?" while both men went off again into a paroxysm +of laughter. + +"What is the joke?" Helen asked, looking from one to the other +completely mystified. + +"It is a good one--and on me," replied De Peyster. "I took him for the +chauffeur, you know." + +Helen looked at her husband. "Is it safe for me to laugh now, Jack?" she +asked. "I am glad something has happened to put you in good-humor. Can +you be induced to leave your work for the rest of the day and make +yourself presentable to join us in the garden?" + +Armstrong cast a despairing glance at the machine. + +"Of course," he said. "I shall be fresher in the morning, anyway, and I +am sure I can fix it up then." + +"Nothing like knowing all about it yourself, Jack," Uncle Peabody +remarked, innocently. "These French machines are so simple!" + +"You take the girls back to the garden," Armstrong replied, +emphatically, "and kindly devote your attention to your own theories, or +I will put you at work on the blamed thing yourself to-morrow." + +De Peyster greeted Inez effusively, paying but little attention to Helen +and Uncle Peabody as they strolled back to the garden, while Jack +disappeared in-doors. + +"Oh, I say!" he exclaimed as they reached the balustrade. "How did +Armstrong happen to find a place like this? Is it not simply splendid, +Inez?" + +Inez Thayer resented something--she did not quite know what. She had +been expecting De Peyster's arrival daily, yet now that he had come she +was still unprepared. She could find no fault with his attentions except +that they had been too assiduous. Perhaps it was that, try as she could, +she had been quite unable to convince him that his devotion was useless. +He accepted each rebuff philosophically and bided his time. + +Annetta skilfully arranged the chairs and laid the little table, placed, +as Helen had taught her, in a spot commanding the exquisite view of the +valley and San Miniato beyond. Luscious _fragole_, cooling _gelati_, +seducing little Italian _paste_, as only Helen's cook could make them, +and a refreshing Asti cup replaced the tea which the girls had decided +would be less acceptable on this particular day; and by the time all was +in readiness Armstrong joined them clothed in his proper mind and +raiment. + +The conversation turned upon the voyage across. + +"We had an awfully jolly crowd on board," said De Peyster. "There were +Emory and Eustis, who you say have just left you, and then there were +three charming married women who insisted on my playing bridge with them +every afternoon." + +"They did not have to insist very hard, did they, Ferdy?" interrupted +Helen--"with your reputation for gallantry." + +Ferdinand smiled complacently. "Making up a fourth at bridge comes under +the definition of 'first aid to the wounded,'" he replied, "but I did +not object at all to being the doctor. Their conversation was so clever, +you know." + +"Clever conversation always helps good bridge," Armstrong interrupted, +dryly; but De Peyster was already deep in his story. + +"One afternoon they had a discussion as to how large an allowance for +personal expenses would make each one perfectly happy,--funny subject, +wasn't it? Well, one of them said ten thousand a year would take care of +her troubles nicely; the second one was more modest and thought five +thousand would do,--but what do you think my partner said? She was a +demure little lady from Chicago and had only been married a year and a +half." + +"Don't keep us in suspense, Ferdy," said Helen, as De Peyster yielded to +the humor of his recollections. + +"Truly, it was awfully funny," he continued. "She looked rather +frightened when the conversation began, and when they urged her to set a +price she said, 'I would be perfectly satisfied if I could afford to +spend just what I am spending.'" + +"She had a conscience--that is the only difference between her and the +other women," Armstrong commented. + +"Perhaps," added Helen; "but I'll guarantee that in another year she +will be getting a divorce from her husband on the ground of +incompatibility of income." + +"Then in the evenings," De Peyster went on, "the men got together in the +smoke-room, but I think we drank too much. I always felt uncomfortable +when I got up next morning." + +"Another encouragement for my _magnum opus_!" exclaimed Uncle Peabody. +"I am going to invent a wine possessing such qualities that the more one +drinks of it the better he will feel next morning." + +"If you succeed you will have clubdom at your feet," Armstrong replied, +while De Peyster feelingly nodded assent. + +"Would you mind if I invited Inez to drive with me to-morrow, Helen?" +ventured Ferdinand, abruptly, looking anxiously at Miss Thayer. "I know +you honeymooners won't mind being left alone if I can persuade her." + +"By all means, Ferdy--unless Inez has some other plans. Jack has been +making her ride his hobby ever since she arrived, and I have no doubt +she will be glad enough to escape us for a little breathing-spell." + +"If you put it that way I shall certainly decline"--Inez failed to show +any great enthusiasm--"but otherwise I shall be very glad to go." + +"Jack intends to put his automobile together to-morrow," Uncle Peabody +remarked, "so it will be just as well not to have any one outside the +family within hearing distance." + +Armstrong tried to wither Uncle Peabody with a glance, but ran up +against a smiling face so beaming with good-nature that even real anger +would have been dispelled. + +"For Helen's sake--" Jack began, but Uncle Peabody interrupted. + +"For Helen's sake you will hasten the arrival of your chauffeur, if such +a thing be possible." + + * * * * * + +The following day was an eventful one. First of all, as if in response +to Uncle Peabody's exhortation, the chauffeur appeared. Mr. Cartwright +departed for the city soon after breakfast, to be gone all day, and by +the time the heat of the afternoon had subsided De Peyster drove up in +state to enforce the promise Inez had given him the afternoon before. +After watching them drive away, Helen slipped her hand through her +husband's arm and gently drew him with her into the garden. They walked +in silence, Helen's head resting against his shoulder, until they +reached her favorite vantage-spot, when she paused and looked smilingly +into his face. + +"Jack dear," she said, quietly, "do you realize that this is almost the +first time we have really been by ourselves since we took that walk to +Fiesole?" + +"But at least you have had an opportunity to show your villa to your +friends!" + +"Don't joke, Jack--I am not in the mood for it this afternoon. I don't +know why, but I have been feeling very serious these last few days. Tell +me, dear--are you perfectly happy?" + +Armstrong looked surprised. "Why, yes--perfectly happy. What a curious +notion!" + +"I know it is, but humor me just this once. Are you as fond of me now as +you were that day at Fiesole?" + +"You silly child!" Jack drew her to him and kissed her. "Whatever has +possessed you to-day?" + +"I don't know, but you see I measure everything by that day at Fiesole. +I believe it was the happiest day I ever spent. Since then, somehow, I +have felt that we were not so near together. Of course, you have been +away a good deal at the library and looking up things with Inez, which +was just what I wanted you to do; and then we have had a good many here +to entertain, which was also what I wanted; but I can't help feeling +that you have not found here at home just what you should have found to +make you perfectly happy. Tell me, dear, have I been to blame?" + +Armstrong paused as if weighing something heavily in his mind. "Perhaps +I have no right to go on with this work," he remarked, at length, "but +the only way to stop it would be to leave Florence." + +"You know I don't mean that, Jack." + +"I know you don't. I am speaking simply for myself." + +He was again silent, and Helen hesitated to break in upon his reverie. +He seemed for the moment to be far away from her, and she felt an +intangible barrier between them. + +"I could not make any one understand." Armstrong was speaking more to +himself than to her. "Ever since I left Florence years ago I have felt +something pulling me back, and ever since I have been here I have been +under influences which I can explain no more than I can resist. It must +be this, if anything, that you feel." + +"I think I understand," Helen hastened to reassure him. "Sometimes when +I have been playing something on the piano I have the strangest +sensation come over me. I seem to lose my own individuality and to be +merged into another's. I feel impelled to play on, and an unspeakable +dread comes over me lest some one should try to stop me. Is it not +something like that which you feel?" + +"Yes," replied Armstrong, "only a thousand times stronger than any one +could put in words." + +"I know exactly what you mean--and there is nothing for which you need +blame yourself. You warned me before we left Boston that you had left +here a second personality. I know that you confidently expected your own +enthusiasm to excite my interest when once in the atmosphere. I wish +that it had, dear, but I fear I am hopelessly modern." + +Armstrong looked at his wife intently, yet he gave no evidence that he +had heard her words. + +"I have started on a great task at the library, Helen. The spirit of +work is on me, and I feel that I have a chance to prove myself one of +that glorious company. I may find myself unequal to the opportunity, but +if we stay here in Florence I cannot keep away from it. If my absence +from you makes you unhappy I must separate myself from these +associations." + +"No, indeed," cried Helen. "I would not have you stop your work for +worlds. Even though I am unable to appreciate it, you know how +interested I am in anything which adds to your happiness--and I am so +proud of you, dear! That was one reason why I was glad that Inez could +spend a little time with us. She, at least, can help you." + +"She can indeed," replied Armstrong, frankly, "and she has already. I +have never seen a girl with such natural intellectual gifts. Her +arguments are so logical, her reasoning so clear, that I find even her +disagreements most entertaining. What a pity she is not a man!" + +"I knew you would like her," answered Helen. "Sometimes I think you +ought to have married a girl like her instead of me, but"--Helen looked +at him smilingly and drew closer to him--"but I am awfully glad that you +didn't, Jack!" + +"What nonsense, Helen!" cried Armstrong, coming to himself and drawing +her to him. "Who is fishing now? I would ask no better chum than your +charming, brown-eyed friend, but I am quite content that I possess as +wife this sweet girl here in my arms who is trying to find a cloud in +this cloudless sky." + +"Oh no, Jack." Helen straightened up reproachfully. "But I like to hear +you say these things--just as you did that day at Fiesole! And even if I +should find a cloud it would be sure to have a silver lining, wouldn't +it, dear?" + +Armstrong smiled. "Yes, sweetheart, and, as Uncle Peabody says, 'all +you would have to do would be to turn it around lining side out.'" + + + + +VII + + +Inez Thayer found herself overwhelmed by a varied mingling of +conflicting emotions as she settled herself in the victoria, and +listened without remark to the enthusiastic and joyous monologue to +which her companion gave free rein. She felt herself absolutely +helpless, borne along resistlessly like a rudderless ship by a force +which she could neither control nor fully comprehend. She still longed +for a valid excuse to leave Florence, yet in her heart she questioned +whether she would now be strong enough to embrace the opportunity even +if it came. She had dreaded the certain appearance of De Peyster, yet +she had been eager to enter into the inevitable final discussion so that +the episode might be closed forever. She said to herself that she hated +Armstrong for the mastery which he unconsciously possessed over her, yet +every thought of him thrilled her with a delight which nothing in her +life had before given her. The color came to her cheeks even now, and De +Peyster, watching her intently, thought it was in response to his own +remark and felt encouraged. + +The drive took them, as a matter of course, to the Cascine, where +fashionable Florence parades up and down the delightful avenues formed +by the pines and the ilexes. On this particular afternoon the heat +encouraged them to take refuge on the shadier side toward the mountains, +reserving the drive along the Arno until the brilliant coloring of the +setting sun should show them both Bellosguardo and the city itself in +their fullest glory. De Peyster was intoxicated by the enjoyment of his +environment, and seemed quite content to accept his companion's passive +submission to his mood. At length his exuberance of spirits became +mildly contagious, and Inez threw off her apprehensions and forgot the +dangers and perplexities which she felt surrounded her. + +But her feeling of security was short-lived. De Peyster no sooner became +conscious of her change of manner than he seized it as a long-awaited +opportunity. Beginning where he had left off at the last attack, he +rehearsed the history of his affection from the day he had first met her +until the present moment. For the first time Inez experienced a sympathy +toward him rather than a sorrow for herself. He was, even with his +limitations, so deadly in earnest, his devotion was so unquestionable, +his very persistency was so unlike his other characteristics, seeming a +part of a stronger personality, that it forced her admiration. And yet +how far below the standard she had set! + +"You have not believed me, Ferdinand, when I have told you over and over +again that what you ask is absolutely impossible." Inez spoke kindly but +very firmly. "I truly wish it might be otherwise, but it is kinder that +I make you understand it now instead of having this unhappiness for us +both continue indefinitely. I know you mean every word, but I say to you +now finally and irrevocably--it can never be." + +De Peyster looked into her face searchingly. "You never said it like +that before, Inez." + +"Yes, I have--not once, but many times, and in almost the same words." + +"But it is not the words that count, Inez. I don't care how many times +you say it in the way you always have said it before. I expected to hear +it again. But this tone, Inez, this manner is quite different; and for +the first time I have a feeling that perhaps you do mean it after all." + +"I do mean it, and I have meant it every time I have said it." + +Inez was relentless, but she felt that this was the one time when +matters could be finally settled, and the carriage had already begun the +climb to Settignano. + +De Peyster still gazed at her with uncertainty. Then a sudden light came +to him and showed in his face, mingling with the evident pain which the +thought brought him. + +"I have it," he said, bending toward her to watch her expression more +intently; "I have it. You are in love with some one else!" + +Inez felt her face burn with the suddenness of the accusation. She +hesitated, and in that moment's hesitation De Peyster had his answer. +Still he was not satisfied. He must hear the words spoken. + +"You told me last time that there was no one else," he said, +reproachfully, "and I know you spoke the truth. Now there must be some +one, and if there is I am entitled to know it. So long as my love for +you cannot harm you, no power on earth can take it away from me; but if +there is another who has a better right than I, that is a different +matter. Tell me, Inez--I insist--do you love some one else?" + +There was no retreat. Any denial of words would be useless, and it was +the only way to end things after all. She lifted her eyes to his and +spoke calmly, though the color had fled from her cheeks and her face was +deathly pale. "Yes, Ferdinand, you are entitled to know it. I do love +some one else, and I love him better than my life!" + +"I knew it!" De Peyster exclaimed, dejectedly. + +There was a long pause, during which he struggled bravely with himself. + +"Tell me who it is," he said, at length. "Of course, this makes it +different." + +Inez could not help admiring the unexpected strength. + +"No, Ferdinand, I cannot. This is my secret, and you must not question +further." + +"But it must be some one here, for you told me just before you sailed +that there was no one." + +"Perhaps here--perhaps elsewhere. You must leave it there, Ferdinand. If +you care for me, as you say you do, I ask you to leave it there." + +De Peyster bowed submissively and shared her evident desire for silence +during the few moments which remained of their drive. + +Helen and Jack met them at the villa, and were greatly disappointed that +Ferdinand declined their pressing invitation to stay for supper in the +garden. A promise that he would take tea with them on the following +afternoon was all they could secure from him, and when Inez rushed +up-stairs promptly upon his departure Jack looked at Helen meaningly. + +"She must have turned him down good and hard this time, eh?" + +"Poor Ferdy!" Helen replied, sympathetically. "I had no idea he could +get so cut up over anything." + + * * * * * + +The automobile, even in the two days it had been a member of the +Armstrong family, completely demoralized the entire establishment. Jack +was beside himself with excitement and joy, his early experiments both +with chauffeur and car being eminently satisfactory. He contented +himself with short runs down to the city and back the first day after +his man had succeeded in putting the car into its normal condition, but +his impatience to start out again immediately after each return, even +though luncheon was most unceremoniously shortened, produced almost as +much dismay in the household as his bad temper while trying to +reconstruct the machine. + +"I want you all to have a ride in it at the earliest possible moment," +he explained; "but before I risk any one's neck but my own I must +satisfy myself that the car is all right and that the chauffeur knows +his business." + +The only event which diverted Armstrong was the return to the villa of +Inez and De Peyster, for their evident discomforture caused him real +concern. On general principles he was interested in the outcome of the +obvious errand which had brought De Peyster to Florence, and beyond this +he had already come to look upon Miss Thayer as a most agreeable +companion and assistant whose happiness and equilibrium he regretted to +see disturbed. + +After De Peyster's unceremonious departure and Inez' abrupt +disappearance, he and Helen strolled out into the garden, where the +table was already laid for supper. + +"There is no use waiting for Inez," said Helen. "Poor child! It is a +shame to have her unhappy when we are so contented. But where is Uncle +Peabody?" + +"I met him on the Lung' Arno and offered to take him home, but he said +he was bound for Olschki's. Trying to find out if Luigi Cornaro wrote +anything he had not discovered, he said." + +"Perhaps he will come before we have finished. You sit there, Jack, +where you can watch the sunset behind San Miniato, and I will sit next +to you so that I can watch it, too." + +Helen drew the light chair nearer, and smilingly looked up at him. +"There," she said. "Is this not cozy--just you and I?" + +Armstrong smiled back into her radiant eyes with equal contentment. +"This is absolute perfection, but you don't imagine we can eat like +this, do you?" + +"I don't feel a bit hungry," she replied, cheerfully, making no attempt +to move. "Uncle Peabody says we ought not to eat when we don't feel like +it, and I don't feel like it now." + +"But what does Uncle Peabody say about not eating when you have been +knocking about in an automobile all day and have the appetite of a +horse?" + +"Oh, you men!" cried Helen, straightening up with a pout. "I don't +believe there is a bit of sentiment in a man's make-up, anyhow. +Eat--eat--eat--" and she piled his plate high with generous portions +from every dish within reach. + +Uncle Peabody's step upon the path gave warning of his approach. + +"So I am in time after all," he said. "I was afraid I should be obliged +to eat my evening repast in solitary loneliness. But is this the way you +follow my precepts?" he continued, as his eye fell upon Armstrong's +plate. "Can't you take it on the instalment plan--or are you +anticipating forming a partnership with a stomach-pump?" + +"It is my fault, uncle," replied Helen, contritely. "I can't make Jack +romantic, so I tried to stuff him to keep him good-natured. That is +always the next best thing with a man." + +"Oh ho!" Uncle Peabody looked shocked as he drew a chair up to the +little table. "So I have come right into a family quarrel, have I? +Naughty, naughty, both of you!" + +"I wish I could quarrel with him," said Helen, "but he is too agreeable, +even in his aggravating moods." + +"What have you to say to that pretty speech, John Armstrong?" asked +Uncle Peabody. + +"What can I say?" answered Jack, between mouth-fuls, "except that, +speaking for myself, I am always much more romantic when I am not +hungry. If Herself will indulge me for five minutes longer I will +promise to be as sentimental as the most fastidious could desire." + +"I do not care for manufactured sentiment," replied Helen; "and it is +too late now anyway, for my own appetite has returned and my anger is +appeased." + +"Miss Thayer evidently has not returned yet?" ventured Uncle Peabody, +interrogatively, as the supper progressed. + +"Yes, she is up-stairs in tears, and Ferdy has gone away to throw +himself into the Arno," Helen replied. + +"Dear me, dear me!" murmured Uncle Peabody. "What a pity! I am not sure +that I would have returned had I known that I should find so much +trouble." + +"Now that you have had this much, I think I will let you in for the +rest," suggested Armstrong. "I will take you out to the garage after you +have finished." + +"More trouble there?" + +"Yes--punctured a tire on the way up the hill." + +"And you never said a word about it!" cried Helen. "No wonder you did +not feel romantic!" + +"Good! Peace is once more established, which is worth more than a new +tire. Come, my appetite is satisfied--suppose we all go out to the +garage." + +Annetta interrupted their progress at the door. + +"A gentleman to see the signora," she announced--"the same gentleman who +took the Signorina Thayer to ride this afternoon--and would the signora +see him alone?" + +"Poor Ferdy," Helen sighed, aloud. "He wants me to intercede for him. +You go on, Jack, and perhaps I may join you later. Show Mr. De Peyster +out here, Annetta." + +Ferdinand hardly waited to be ushered through the hallway. He was +visibly suffering as he approached Helen with outstretched hand. + +"I am so sorry, Ferdy," was all she could say before he interrupted her. + +"Forgive me, Helen, for coming to you before I have regained control of +myself; but I have made a sudden decision, and unless I carry it out at +once I won't be able to do it." + +"A sudden decision, Ferdy?" + +"Yes, I am leaving Florence on the night train for Paris; but I could +not go without seeing you again and leaving with you a message +for--Inez." + +"The night train to-night? Surely you are not going away without seeing +Inez again?" + +Helen's sympathy was strong in the face of his almost uncontrollable +emotion. + +"Yes, to-night, Helen; and I shall never see her again unless she sends +for me." + +"But what has happened to make things so hopeless now? She has refused +you before, Ferdy, and I have always admired your pluck that you refused +to give her up." + +"But it is different now--there is a reason why I must give her up. +There was none before, except that she did not think she cared for me. I +was certain I could make her do that--in time. But now--" + +"What is it now?" Her interest was sincere. + +"You must know, Helen. Why do you pretend that you don't?" + +"Why, what do you mean? I am not pretending. I know of nothing." + +De Peyster was incredulous. "It's all right, Helen. We men would do the +same thing, I suppose, to protect another chap's secret; but it is +pretty rough on me, just the same." + +Helen's mystification was complete. "Look here, Ferdy," she said; "this +has gone too far. Inez has evidently confided to you something which she +has never told me. I have not had a word with her since she returned, +and I know nothing of what has happened except what I have surmised." + +"Do you mean to tell me that Inez has been here all this time as your +guest without your knowing that she has fallen in love with some one +over here?" + +"Inez in love! Ferdy, you are crazy! Who is it, and where did she meet +him?" + +"I don't know--she would not tell me, but it is some one she has met +over here." + +"I don't believe a word of it. She must have said it to make you +understand that she could not marry you." + +Ferdinand shook his head. "No. A girl could fool me on some things, I +suppose; but when she speaks as Inez spoke she means every word she +says. 'I do love some one else,' she said, 'and I love him better than +my life.' Do you think Inez would say that if she did not mean it, +Helen?" + +Helen leaned against the arm of the settle. "I don't understand it, +Ferdy--I don't understand it." + +"But I do, and I am not strong enough to see her again or to stay here +in Florence. I will not trouble her again unless she sends for +me--anything sent in care of Coutts will always reach me. Or after she +is married, and I am myself again, I would like to see her and +congratulate--him. Forgive me, Helen, I am all unstrung to-night. +Good-bye." + +De Peyster was gone before Helen realized it. She sank upon the settle +and rested her face on her hand. Inez in love, and with some one she had +met in Italy! Who was it--when was it? She had come directly to the +villa upon her arrival. She had said that she had met no one who +interested her on the steamer. In Florence she had met no one otherwise +than casually. All her time had been spent either with her or with Jack. +Helen lifted her head suddenly. "With Jack," she repeated to herself. +She rose quickly and looked off into the distance. The last bright rays +were disappearing behind San Miniato. "I love him better than my life," +Inez had said to Ferdinand. Helen grasped the railing of the balustrade +for support. "With Jack!" she repeated again. "Oh no, no, no--not that!" +she cried aloud--"not that!" + + + + +VIII + + +"How is the work at the library progressing?" + +Helen asked her husband at breakfast a few mornings later. + +"Famously," Armstrong replied, pleased that she had referred to the +subject. + +"Is it nearly finished?" + +"Finished?" Jack laughed indulgently. "You evidently don't realize what +a big thing I have undertaken. I find myself appalled by its +possibilities." + +"Indeed." Uncle Peabody looked up surprised. "Does this mean that you +are likely to lengthen your stay in Florence beyond your original +plans?" + +"No, I think not," Armstrong replied. "We have been here less than a +month now, and I ought to be able to put my material into shape during +the two months which remain--especially with the splendid assistance +Miss Thayer is giving me. I can add the finishing touches after we +return home, if necessary." + +"Will it take as long as that?" asked Helen, her color mounting. + +"Surely you are not counting upon me for any such length of time!" +exclaimed Inez, almost in the same breath. "My cousins are expecting me +to join them in Berlin any day now." + +"You would not desert your post of duty?" + +"I must follow the direction toward which it points." + +"Just what is this 'big thing' you have undertaken?" interrupted Uncle +Peabody. "You forget that I have not yet been taken into your +confidence." + +Armstrong turned to his questioner seriously. "I have really stumbled +upon something which has not been done before and which ought to have +been undertaken long ago. You see, Cerini has there at the library +hundreds of letters which belong to the Buonarroti archives. Many of +them were written by Michelangelo, and many more were written to him. +The correspondence is between him and men in all walks of life--popes, +kings, princes, tradesmen, and even some from the workmen in the Carrara +quarries." + +"And you and Miss Thayer are translating these letters?" Uncle Peabody +anticipated. + +"Yes; but that is not the work which most interests me, except +indirectly. Any number of volumes have been published upon the life and +manners and customs of every age before and since that in which +Michelangelo lived, yet practically nothing concerning this particular +period. The artistic importance of the epoch has been written up with +minute detail, but the intimate life of the people and its significance +seems to have been wholly overlooked--probably because it was +overshadowed. Very few of these letters have ever been printed, and they +ought to form the basis of a great work upon this subject. Cerini has +turned them over to me to see what I can do with them. At first I +started with the idea of going through everything myself, but that would +be a hopeless task unless we plan to live in Florence indefinitely. Now, +Miss Thayer reads over the letters and takes out the important data, +leaving me free to work on the book itself. We are really making +splendid progress, and I shall be bitterly disappointed if Miss Thayer +has to go away and leave me to finish it alone." + +"I am sure Inez will stay as long as she can, Jack," Helen said, +quietly. "She knows how welcome she has been, but we must not urge her +beyond what she thinks is best." + +She broke off suddenly; then, with an assumed nonchalance, said: "I +wonder if I could not help in some way and thus get the work completed +just that much sooner. Of course, I don't understand Italian, but +perhaps I could do some copying or something. Don't you think three +would accomplish more than two, Jack, even if one of them was a weak +sister?" + +Helen looked over to her husband with obvious expectancy, but she could +not fail to notice the momentary hush. + +"I know how ridiculous my proposition sounds," she continued, bravely, +"but I would really like to try." + +"Why, of course," Armstrong replied, hastily. "Miss Thayer's suggestion +to leave and your willingness at last to come to my rescue have combined +to give me two unexpected shocks--one unpleasant, the other delightful. +Let me see. Miss Thayer and I have been developing a kind of team work, +so this means a little readjustment." + +"Never mind, if it is not perfectly convenient." Helen made an effort to +appear indifferent. + +"Of course it is convenient," Jack hastened to add, ashamed of his +hesitation. "You know how much I have wanted you to do this, and I am +perfectly delighted. I am sure it can be arranged and that you can help +us a great deal." + +"I wish you knew Italian, Helen, so that you could take my place," added +Inez. "Then Mr. Armstrong would not accuse me of deserting my post of +duty." + +"Not at all," protested Armstrong, impulsively. "Even then I could not +get along without your assistance. We can easily find something for +Helen to do which will help the work along and encourage her in her +budding enthusiasm. This is splendid! Helen interested at last in my +dusty old divinities! Perhaps we can even infect Uncle Peabody." + +"Perhaps," assented Uncle Peabody; "but for the present I shall devote +myself to my own researches--even though your masterpiece is forced to +suffer thereby. But I will ride down with you as far as the Duomo." + +No one in the automobile, unless it was the chauffeur, could help +feeling a certain tenseness in the situation as the car conveyed the +party to its destination. Helen's action was the result of a sudden +decision, quite at variance with all the conclusions at which she had +arrived during the wakeful hours of the preceding nights. Armstrong had +so long since given up all thought of having his wife co-operate with +him in this particular expression of himself, and the work upon which he +and Miss Thayer were engaged had settled down into so regular a routine, +that he was really disturbed by Helen's change of base, although he had +been entirely unwilling to admit it. Inez inwardly resented the +intrusion, at the same time blaming herself severely for her attitude; +and Uncle Peabody, who saw in the whole affair only a clever ruse on +Helen's part instigated by a tardily aroused jealousy, was in danger, +for the first time, of not knowing just what to do. + +As a result of all these conflicting emotions, the efforts at +conversation during the ride would have seemed ludicrous had the +situation been less serious. Armstrong kept up a continuous and +irrelevant conversation into which each of the others joined weakly with +equal irrelevance. Each was trying to talk and think at the same time. +The car reached the Piazza del Duomo almost abruptly, as it seemed, and +Uncle Peabody alighted with considerable alacrity, waving a good-bye +which was mechanically acknowledged as the machine slowly moved into the +narrow Borgo San Lorenzo. At the library, Armstrong led the way through +the cloister and up the stone stairs to the little door where Maritelli +was this time waiting to give them entrance. + +"I will take you to meet Cerini," said Armstrong. + +"While I," interrupted Inez, "will seek out our table and get all in +readiness for our triple labors." + +A gentle voice called "Avanti," in answer to Jack's tap upon the door of +Cerini's study, and the old man rose hastily as he saw a new figure by +Armstrong's side. + +"My wife, padre." Jack smiled at the admiration in Cerini's face as he +took Helen's hand and raised it to his lips. "She could not longer +resist the magnet which draws us to you and to your treasures." + +"Your wife," repeated the old man, looking from Helen to Armstrong. "I +have looked forward to this day when I might meet her here. But where is +your sister-worker? Surely she has not given up the splendid task which +she has so well begun?" + +Helen flushed consciously at Cerini's praise of Inez. "No, father; Miss +Thayer is already at her work, and Mr. Armstrong is equally eager to +return to it. May I not stay a little while with you?" + +"Have you time to show her some of the things here which we know and +love so well?" asked Armstrong. + +"Most certainly." + +He turned to Helen. "If you will accept my guidance we can let these +humanists resume their labors while we enjoy the accomplishments of +those who have gone before." + +Armstrong left them, and Cerini conducted Helen through the library, +explaining to her the various objects of interest. It was quite apparent +to Helen that the old man was studying her minutely, and she felt ill at +ease in spite of his unfailing courtesy. + +"You have known my husband for a long while, have you not?" Helen asked +as they passed from one case to another. + +"Yes, indeed--even before he came to know himself." + +"Then you must know him very well." + +Helen smiled, but the old man was serious. + +"Better than you know him, even though you are his wife. But see this +choir-book. It was illuminated by Lorenzo Monaco, teacher of Fra +Angelico. Can anything be more wonderful than these miniatures, in the +beauty of their line and color?" + +Helen assented with a show of interest, but she was not thinking of the +blazoned page before her. The old man's words were burning in her heart. +Passing through a smaller room to reach Cerini's study, they came +suddenly to a corner lighted only by a small window where Armstrong and +Inez were at work. So intent were they that the approach of Helen and +the librarian had not been noticed. Cerini held up his hand warningly. + +"Quiet!" he commanded, softly. "Let us not disturb them. I have never +seen two individualities cast in so identical a mould. One sometimes +sees it in two men, but rarely in a man and a woman." + +Helen felt her breath come faster as she watched them for a moment +longer. Inez was pointing out something in the text of the original +letter which lay before them. Armstrong's head was bent, studying it +intently. Then Inez spoke, and her companion answered loud enough for +Helen to hear. + +"Splendid! And to think that we are the first ones to put these facts +together!" + +The expression of sheer joy upon her husband's face held Helen +spellbound, and Cerini was obliged to repeat his suggestion that they +return to his study by another route. + +"It is just as you have seen it, day after day," said the librarian as +he closed the door quietly, and Helen seated herself in the Savonarola +chair beside his desk. "When I heard from him that he was to be married +I hoped that his wife might be able to enter into this joy of his life; +but, since that could not be, it is well that he has found a friend so +sympathetic." + +Helen told herself that the old man could not intend deliberately to +wound her as he was doing. + +"Why are you so sure that his wife cannot enter into it also?" she +asked, quietly. + +Cerini looked at her in evident surprise. "Because what I have seen +during these weeks, and what you have seen to-day, can happen but once +in a lifetime. You are more beautiful than his companion, but you are +not so intellectual." + +It was impossible to take offence at the old man's frankness because of +his absolute sincerity. He spoke of her beauty exactly as he spoke of +one of the magnificent bindings he had just shown her, and of Inez' +intellectuality as if it were the content of one of his priceless tomes. + +"I came to the library to-day for the definite purpose of joining in +their work--" Helen began, hesitatingly. + +"Surely not!" replied Cerini, emphatically. "You would not disturb these +labors which mean so much in the development of them both? It would mean +stopping them where they are." + +"Could I not assist them at some point, even to a slight extent, and +participate in this development myself?" + +Cerini was mildly indulgent at her lack of understanding. "My daughter," +he said, kindly, "some one has written that it is no kindness to a +spider, no matter how gentle the touch, to aid it in the spinning of its +web. Any one can work at translating, truly--almost any one can write a +book--but few can accomplish what your husband and Miss Thayer are doing +now. The book they are engaged upon in itself is the least of value. +They do not themselves realize, as I do, that it is the influence of +this work upon their own characters which is making it a success. They +were humanists before they knew the meaning of the word. They come into +the highest expression of themselves here in this atmosphere. You were +born for other things, my daughter--perhaps far more important +things--but not for this." + +"You cannot understand, father," Helen replied, desperately. "I am his +wife, and it is my place, rather than that of any other woman, to share +with him any development which affects his life as deeply as you say +this does. It must be so." + +"Forgive me if I offend you, but this is not a matter which you or I can +settle. It is perhaps natural that I cannot understand your viewpoint. +The nature of my life and work gives me little knowledge of women; but +this is not a question of sex--it is the kinship of intellects. You are +his wife, and, as you say, it is your privilege to share with your +husband any development, but it must be along a path which you are able +to tread. I mean this in no unkind way, my daughter. I doubt not that +you, perhaps, in all other ways, are quite capable of doing so, but this +one single portion of his life it is quite impossible that you should +share." + +Helen had no response. Her heart told her that all Cerini said was +literally true. She felt herself to be absolutely unfitted to understand +or to supplement that particular expression of her husband's character. +But the matter-of-fact suggestion of the librarian that Inez should +fulfil to him that which she, his wife, lacked, almost paralyzed her +power to think or speak. Cerini seemed instinctively to read what was +passing through her mind. + +"You think me unreal, my daughter--you think me impractical. I may be +both. Here, within these old walls, I am not limited by the world's +conventions, so perhaps I disregard them more than is right. Those whom +I love signify nothing to me as to their personal appearance or their +families or their personalities except in so far as these attributes may +be expressions of themselves. Life to me would not be worth the living +if in debating whether or not I ought to do a certain thing I was +obliged to consider also what the world would think or what some other +person might think. Let me ask you a question: Was your motive in coming +here this morning the result of a desire to put yourself in touch with +the spirit of your husband's work, or was it to separate these two +persons in the labor they have undertaken?" + +Cerini's question brought Helen to herself. + +"If you are really free from the world's conventions," she responded, +quickly, "you will understand my answer. My husband is everything to me +that a wife could ask, and his happiness is the highest object my life +contains. Miss Thayer is the dearest friend I have, and my affection for +her is second only to the love I bear my husband. While this side of his +nature was not unknown to me, until we came to Florence--even until +to-day--I have never fully appreciated its intensity. Yet when I feel +that to a certain extent, at least, his welfare depends upon a +gratification of this expression, is it unnatural that I, his wife, +should wish to be the one person to experience that development with +him?" + +"You did not feel this strong desire when you first came to Florence?" + +"I did not understand it." + +"Would your present comprehension have come at all if his companion had +been a man rather than a woman?" + +Helen flushed. "You are not so free from the world's conventions as you +think." + +"But you do not answer the question," the old man pursued, relentlessly. + +"You think, then, that my desire is prompted by jealousy? Let us speak +frankly," continued Helen as Cerini held up his hand deprecatingly. "The +distinction in my own mind may be a fine one and difficult for another +to comprehend, but I can say truly that no jealous thought has entered +into any of my considerations. I could not love my husband and be +jealous of him at the same time. On the other hand, it is probably quite +true that were his companion a man I should not have recognized so +strongly the importance of joining him in this particular work." + +Cerini rose quietly, and took from the bookcase near his desk a copy of +a modern classic. + +"The author has expressed an idea here which I think explains your +position exactly." He turned the pages quickly. "See here," he said, +drawing closer to Helen and pointing to a paragraph marked with a double +score in the margin. "'No man objects to the admiration his wife +receives from his friends; it is the woman herself who makes the +trouble.' Now I suppose the reverse of that proposition is equally +true." + +Helen smiled. "You mean that the reason I am not jealous of my husband +in this instance is because he has given me no occasion?" + +"Exactly." + +"That is perfectly true." + +"But you fear that it may not always be true?" + +Helen was no match for the old man in argument, yet she struggled to +meet him. + +"Perhaps," she said; "there is always that danger. Why not avoid it by +making this other companionship unnecessary?" + +"But suppose you yourself are not temperamentally fitted to gratify this +particular craving in your husband's life?" Cerini watched the effect of +his words upon his companion. She was silent for several moments before +she raised her eyes to his. + +"I know that you are right," she answered, simply. "I have felt it +always, but my husband has insisted that in my case it was lack of +application rather than of temperament. I came here to-day to try the +experiment, and you have shown me that my own judgment is correct." + +"It is correct," agreed Cerini, delighted by Helen's unexpected +acquiescence. "It was your husband's heart rather than his head which +led him astray in his advice. You have just shown me your intelligence +by coming so promptly to this conclusion; now you are going to manifest +your devotion to him by leaving him undisturbed in this work which he +has undertaken. It can only last during a limited period at best. It is +the expression of but one side of his nature. Before many weeks have +passed you and he will be returning to your great country into a +complexity of conditions where this experience will become only a +memory. These conditions will call to the surface the expression of his +other characteristics into which you can fully enter. By not interfering +with this character-building now going on, you, his wife, will later +reap rich returns." + +A tap sounded on the door of the study. + +"There is your husband now," said Cerini, taking Helen's hand. "Tell me +that you forgive me for my frankness." + +Helen pressed his hand silently as he turned from her to admit +Armstrong. + +"Here you are!" cried Jack, as he entered with Inez. "We became so +engrossed that I am ashamed to say I completely forgot our new convert." + +"Your forgetfulness has given me the opportunity to become well +acquainted with your charming wife," replied Cerini. "Is your work +completed for the day?" + +"Yes, but we shall be at it again to-morrow. You will come with us of +course?" he asked, turning to his wife. + +"I am not quite sure, Jack," Helen replied. "Monsignor Cerini has +suggested to me another way in which I can help you, which may prove to +be equally important." + +She turned to Inez with an unflinching smile. "Our friend has been +explaining to me the nature of what you and Jack are doing together. You +must certainly plan to stay on for a while longer. I am sure Jack could +never finish it without you." + + + + +IX + + +The human heart can play no more difficult role than to keep on with its +every-day monotonous pulsations, so far as the world sees, when in +reality every throb is a measured duration of infinite pain. Ten days +had passed since De Peyster had so unconsciously been the cause of +completely changing the even tenor of Helen's existence, and during this +time she had drifted helplessly in the deep waters of uncertainty. What +was the wise thing to do? Helen knew Inez too well to deceive herself +into thinking that what was said to Ferdinand had been simply an +expedient to accomplish his dismissal, and her observations since then +had confirmed her early convictions. Inez was in love with Jack. Jack +was obviously fond of her companionship. Their work in the library had +brought them constantly together, and at home an increasing proportion +of the time had been devoted to a consideration and discussion of the +various topics which had developed and into which Helen did not enter. +Yet there was nothing in all this which was not perfectly natural; in +fact, it was, as Helen said to herself, wholly the outcome of what she +had originally suggested. + +Helen's convictions regarding Inez were confirmed, not by what her +friend did, but rather by the efforts she made to avoid doing certain +things. Never for an instant did Helen question Inez' loyalty to her, +and she could scarcely refrain from entering into the tremendous +struggle in which she saw her engaged. Each woman's heart was passing +through fire, and Helen felt a new and strange bond of sympathy between +her friend and herself because of their mutual suffering. But the +struggle must continue. Helen must come to some decision wiser than any +which had yet suggested itself to her before disclosing to any one, and +to Inez least of all, that she possessed any knowledge of the situation. + +Fortunately, at this crisis, the automobile became the controlling +excitement. During the intervening days Jack had resisted the +temptation, devoting himself assiduously to his self-appointed task, and +satisfying himself with short excursions after his labors at the library +were over. Now he could resist no longer. The book was assuming definite +proportions, and, as he explained to himself and the others, the work +would be all the better for a little holiday. So it was that the +Armstrongs, with Miss Thayer and Uncle Peabody, made runs to Siena, +Padua, and to all the smaller towns less frequented by visitors and +consequently of greater interest. Miss Thayer forgot in the excitement +the experience she was passing through; Uncle Peabody forgot Luigi +Cornaro and the Japanese; Armstrong, for the time being, appeared +indifferent to the hitherto compelling interests at the library; and +Helen, at intervals, forgot her suffering and the heavy burden which lay +upon her heart in her feeling of helplessness. New sensations, in this +twentieth century, are rare, and the automobile is to be credited with +supplying many. The exhilaration, the abandon, which comes with the +utter annihilation of time and space, forces even those affairs of life +which previously had been thought important to become miserably +commonplace. The danger itself is not the least of the fascination. + +"I would rather be killed once a week in an automobile," asserted Uncle +Peabody while the fever was on him, "than die the one ordinary death +allotted to man." + +With the temporary cessation of the library work, there had been no +occasion for separate interests. This, Helen felt, was most fortunate, +as it gave her ample opportunity to arrive at her conclusions. It was +all her own fault, she repeated to herself over and over again. Had she +made an earlier effort to enter into Jack's interests, even though it +had proved her inability, matters need never have arrived at so serious +a pass. Now she was convinced that it was too late to become a part of +them; she had done an irreparable injury to Inez, whom she loved as a +sister, and had taken chances on disrupting her own and her husband's +domestic happiness. + +"As Jack said, I have found a cloud in the cloudless sky," she +thought.--"And poor Inez!" + +Thus the burden resolved itself into two parts--solicitude for Inez and +how best to undo the harm Helen felt she had wrought. Her first attempt +had proved a failure, and she could not see the next step. While the +motoring fever lasted there was nothing to do but to plan; for the +excitement was infectious, and one trip followed another in rapid +succession. Household regularity became conspicuous by its absence. +Meals were served at all hours and were rushed through with reckless +haste, entirely upsetting Uncle Peabody's theories. + +"You treat your stomach like a trunk," he protested to Armstrong one +morning, "and you throw the food into it just about the way an average +man does his packing." + +"But you finish your breakfast just as soon as any of us," was the +retort. + +"Yes, but if you observe carefully you will note that I actually eat +about one-quarter as much as you do in the same given time. And what I +have eaten will satisfy me about four times as long, because I have +thoroughly masticated it and assimilated all the nourishing portions of +the food. When I think of the gymnastic performances your poor stomach +must go through in order to tear into shreds the chunks of food you have +bolted down I admit my sympathy is fully aroused." + +"Sympathy is always grateful," Armstrong replied, unconvinced, "but +every moment we lose discussing nutrition is a moment taken off the +finest trip we have tried yet. The car is in splendid condition, the +weather is ideal, and Pisa awaits us at the other end of our excursion." + +"So it is to be Pisa, is it?" Uncle Peabody arose. "Do you know, Jack, I +like you for the way you plan these charming rides, and that almost +makes up for your lack of judgment in some other directions. An ordinary +man would spend at least the day before in studying maps, asking advice, +and in making plans generally. You, on the contrary, wait until +breakfast is over, throw down your napkin, and then with a proper show +of impatience say, 'Why do you keep me waiting? The car is ready to take +us to the moon.' All this fits in exactly with my principles: it is the +unexpected which always brings satisfaction." + +"Uncle's praise is distinctly a man's approval," Helen protested. "From +a woman's standpoint Jack's methods represent the acme of tyranny. No +inquiries as to where we prefer to be spirited, no suggestions that our +opinions are worth consulting, no suspicion that we are other than clay +in the potter's hands; simply, 'The machine is ready. Please hurry.' +Yes, we are coming," Helen hurriedly added, seeing Jack's impatience +over the bantering, "we are coming!" + +Giuseppe, Annetta, and the cook were avowed enemies of the motor-car, +not only because of the effect it had produced upon the household +arrangements, but also because of the intrusion of the French chauffeur +which it had forced upon them. They would die rather than show the +slightest interest in it, yet on one pretext or another they never +allowed the machine to start out without regarding it with secret +admiration and respect. Giuseppe, on this particular morning, was +gathering roses on the terrace, Annetta was closing a shutter on the +veranda, while the cook's red face peered around the corner of the +villa. Giuseppe crossed himself as the engine started up, then jumped +and fell squarely into his rose-basket as the chauffeur maliciously +pressed the bulb, and the machine moved majestically past him, out of +the court-yard, and into the narrow road. + +"I don't blame these people for resenting the invasion of motor-cars and +other evidences of modern progress," said Inez as they reached the +level; "it is all so out of keeping with everything around them and with +everything they have been brought up to regard as right and proper." + +"But 'these people' represent only one portion of the Italians, Miss +Thayer," replied Uncle Peabody. "Italian civic life contains two great +contrasting factors--one practical, the other ideal. Each in its way is +proud of the past; the first thinks more of the present and the future, +while the second, opposed on principle to innovations, only accepts, and +then under protest, those which come from Italian sources. This car we +are riding in is of French manufacture. Were it Italian, you would find +that it would have been greeted with smiles instead of scowls just now. +And yet I like their patriotism." + +"But it does seem a sacrilege for the wonderful old towers and walls +here in Florence to be torn down to make room for prosaic +twentieth-century trolley-cars," Helen added. + +"And Mr. Armstrong says there is talk of a board road being built for +automobiles between Mestre and Venice. What will dear old Italy be when +'modern civilization' has finished with her?" Inez asked. + +"From present tendencies," remarked Uncle Peabody, gravely, "I expect to +live to see the day when the Venetian gondola will be propelled by +gasolene; when the Leaning Tower of Pisa will either be straightened by +some enterprising American engineer or made to lean a bit more, so that +automobiles may make the ascent, even as the Colosseum at Rome is +already turned over to Buffalo Bill or some other descendant of Barnum's +circus for regular performances, including the pink lemonade and the +peanuts." + +"Don't!" Inez cried. "It would be far better to go to the other extreme, +which Mr. Armstrong would like to see." + +The road was level and smooth, now that the rough streets of the city +lay behind them, and there was nothing to think of until after reaching +Empoli. Armstrong had been running the machine, and he turned his head +just in time to hear Inez' last remark. + +"I can imagine what the conversation is, even though I have not heard +much of it," he said, "and I am sure that I agree with Miss Thayer. How +about getting back to our work at the library to-morrow?" he added. + +Inez flushed at the suddenness of the question, and Helen caught her +breath. The time for her decision, then, was near at hand. + +"I am as eager as you are to resume it," replied Inez, her face lighting +with pleasure. + +"Then it is all arranged," Armstrong said, decisively. "Helen and Uncle +Peabody may have the machine to-morrow, and we will start in again where +we left off." + +The Arno winds around and about in a hundred curves between Florence and +Pisa, leaving the road for some little distance at times, but ever +coming back to it in flirtatious manner. The fields stretch away between +the river and the road in undulating green. Small hamlets like San +Romano, La Rotta, and Navacchio, and the more pretentious settlements of +Signa, Empoli, and Pontedera give variety to the ride and add by their +old-time strangeness to the beauties which Nature so bountifully +supplies. But the climax comes at the end of the journey, after crossing +the tracks at the very modern station and the bridge which spans the +Arno. Over the roofs of the quaint twelfth-century houses rise the +Cathedral and the Leaning Tower and the pillared dome of the Baptistry. + +The motor-car was halted in front of the little doorway of the Hotel +Nettuno, where the host appeared with all his affability, offering +opportunities for removing the dust accumulated by the ride, and a +choice _colazione_ to be ready as soon as might be desired. Helen was +preoccupied during the preparations for luncheon, but Inez' excitement +over her first visit to Pisa, and Armstrong's eagerness to watch the +effect of the early impressions, saved her changed demeanor from +attracting any attention. + +"It is hard to realize that this is the city of Ugolino and the Tower of +Hunger after this sumptuous repast," remarked Jack, lighting his +cigarette with much satisfaction as coffee was being served. + +"Probably the 'Nettuno' was not in existence at that time," suggested +Uncle Peabody. + +"Is this not where the wonderful echo is to be heard?" inquired Inez. + +"Yes--at the Baptistry," Armstrong replied; "and you are sure to enjoy +it--the sacristan makes up such a funny face when he intones." + +"The echo at Montecatini, I understand, is taking a long vacation," +observed Uncle Peabody. + +"How so?" inquired Inez, innocently. + +"The regular echo was ill, and the sacristan failed to coach the new boy +properly. The visitor called, 'What is the hour?' and the echo came +back, 'Four o'clock'!" + +Jack and Inez led the way from the hotel, through the narrow walled +streets and under the gateway to the Piazza del Duomo, where all the +splendor of the marvellous group of buildings burst upon them. Helen +pleaded fatigue and asked to be left in the Duomo while the others set +out to climb the Leaning Tower and to inspect the Campo Santo; so Uncle +Peabody insisted on staying with her. They sat down on one of the wooden +benches beneath the lamp of Galileo, and Helen rested her head upon her +hand. Uncle Peabody watched her curiously for a moment. Finally he took +her hand quietly in his. Helen started. + +"I would do it if I were you, Helen," he said, deliberately. + +"Do what?" she asked, surprised into confusion. + +"Just what you were thinking of doing when I interrupted you." + +"Do you know what I was thinking, then?" + +"No." Uncle Peabody spoke in a very matter-of-fact way. "But I am sure +it is the right thing to do." + +Helen looked at him steadily, uncertain of just how far he had surmised +her secret thought. There was nothing in the calm, unruffled expression +which gave her even an inkling as to whether her peculiar sensation was +caused by his intuition or her own self-consciousness. Then her gaze +relaxed, and she laughed half-heartedly. + +"You have mislaid your divining-cap this time," Helen said at length. +"If you had really read my mind your advice would have been quite +different." + +Uncle Peabody was undisturbed. "In that case you will exercise your +woman's prerogative and change it within the next twenty-four hours. +When that has taken place you will find that my advice fits it exactly." + +"I wish I had your confidence, Uncle Peabody." Helen rose suddenly and +held out her hand to her companion. "Come, let us go into the sunlight, +where things look more cheerful." + +Uncle Peabody watched the figure militant as Helen preceded him down +the broad aisle, past the small altars, and out into the air. He +recalled this same attitude when Helen had been a child, and he +remembered the determination and the strength of will which went with it +at that time. He had forgotten this characteristic in meeting his niece +grown to womanhood and in the midst of such apparently congenial +surroundings. Now he felt that he knew the occasion for its +reappearance. + +Inez and Jack soon joined them, and together they returned to the hotel. +A few moments later the car was gliding back toward Florence again, in +the refreshing cool of the afternoon, with changed color effects to give +new impressions to the panorama of the morning. They were almost home +when Armstrong turned suddenly to Helen: + +"How absolutely stupid of me!" he said, abruptly. "I met Phil Emory on +the Lung' Arno yesterday and asked him to take dinner with us to-night." +Armstrong looked at his watch. "We shall be just about in time, anyhow, +but I am sorry not to have told you about it." + + + + +X + + +When Helen Cartwright had accepted Phil Emory as escort for the Harvard +Class Day festivities, on the occasion of his graduation, every one had +considered the matter of their engagement as settled; that is to say, +every one except Helen and Emory. This view of the matter did not occur +to Helen, even as a remote possibility, and Phil Emory had absolute +knowledge to the contrary, since Helen herself had answered his question +very clearly, even though not satisfactorily, some months before this +event took place. But she liked him immensely none the less, and saw no +reason why she should not throw confetti at him from the circus-like +seats of the Stadium, or eat strawberries and ices with him and her +other friends at the various Class Day spreads. In fact, she saw every +reason for doing so, inasmuch as she thoroughly enjoyed it; and Emory +was proud enough to act as host under any conditions whatever. + +After graduation Emory probably had as good a chance as any one until +Jack Armstrong entered the field. The younger man had become more and +more intense in his devotion, but when he found himself out-classed by +the force of Armstrong's attack he accepted his defeat generously and +philosophically. No one contributed more to the jollity of the wedding +breakfast or extended heartier congratulations to the bride and +bridegroom. + +Emory's visit at the Villa Godilombra, when he first arrived in Italy, +was one of the pleasantest experiences of his whole trip thus far. Never +had he seen a more glorious spot, and never had he seen Helen so +radiantly beautiful. He had remarked to Eustis more than once during +their stay that an Italian background was the one thing needful to show +off Helen's charms to the greatest perfection. When he returned to +Florence, therefore, he determined to see her again, making his belated +duty call the excuse; so the fortunate meeting with Armstrong and the +invitation which resulted fitted in most agreeably with his plans. + +The automobile passed Emory in his _vettura_ half-way up the hill. +"Good-bye, old chap! Must hurry, as we have company coming for dinner!" +cried Armstrong, gayly, as the machine glided past him, giving him only +a vision of waving hands before he became enveloped in the cloud of +dust. When he arrived at the villa he found Helen and Jack awaiting him +as if they had been at home all the afternoon. + +"This is a pleasant surprise, Phil," said Helen, cordially. "Until Jack +told me you were in Florence I supposed you and Dick Eustis had at least +reached London by this time." + +"No," Emory replied, as they walked into the garden; "I only went as far +north as Paris. Eustis continued on to London, and is there now, I +expect, but I ran across Ferdy De Peyster in Paris. He had a frightfully +sick turn, and I had to take care of him for a while." + +"Ferdy was sick, you say?" Helen was eagerly interested. "You don't +mean dangerously so?" + +"No--not as things turned out; but I will admit I was a bit anxious +about him for a time. He had been terribly cut up over something, and +then caught a beastly cold on his lungs, and I thought he was in for a +severe case of pneumonia. He was pretty sandy about it, and in a week he +came around all right. I took him over to Aix, where I left him, and +then I decided to sail home from Naples instead of Southampton." + +"Did he tell you what the trouble was?" Helen was anxious to know how +confidential De Peyster had been. + +"Oh, an _affaire de coeur_ he said; but he did not tell me who the +girl was. He spoke of his call on you and Miss Thayer, here, shortly +after we departed, but the poor chap was not very communicative." + +"Forgive me for deserting you, Emory," interrupted Armstrong as he +approached them from the house, closely followed by Annetta bearing a +tray. "This is one part of the dinner which I never leave to any one +else. These Italians know a lot of things better than we do, but mixing +cocktails is not one of their long suits." + +"By Jove! that is a grateful reward to a dusty throat!" said Emory, +replacing the glass on the tray. + +"And now to dinner," announced Helen. "Annetta bids us enter." + +Uncle Peabody and Miss Thayer joined them at the table. + +"I must tell you, Mr. Cartwright," said Emory, after the greetings were +over, "that what you said about eating when I was here before made quite +an impression on me, and I have been trying your methods a little." + +"Good for you!" cried Uncle Peabody. + +"I really think I ought to make a confession," Emory continued. "I had +heard about your work and all that, but I had an idea that you were more +or less of a crank, and that your theories were the usual ones which go +with a new fad. But when you talked about understanding and running +properly one's own motive power it appealed to me as being sensible. +Then your idea that the appetite is given one to tell him what the +system needs sounded reasonable to me; and when you insisted that this +same appetite had a right to be consulted as to when enough fuel was on +board I woke up to a realization that I had not always been that +respectful to myself." + +Uncle Peabody smiled genially. "Have you found the experiment very +disagreeable?" + +"By no means," replied Emory, decidedly. "Of course, I started in on it +more as a joke than anything else, but I have been surprised to find how +much more I really enjoy my food. Why, there are flavors in a piece of +bread which I never discovered until I chewed it all to pieces." + +"That is on the same principle exactly that a tea-taster or a +wine-taster discovers the real flavor of the particular variety he is +testing. That is one thing which gave me my idea. He sips a little and +then thoroughly mixes it with the saliva, and in that way tastes the +delicate aroma which the glutton never knows either in drink or food." + +"How does the system work with the elaborate Continental _table d'hote_, +Mr. Emory?" queried Miss Thayer. + +Uncle Peabody answered for him: "You became an object of suspicion to +the head-waiter, and the _garcon_ thought you were criticising the +food." + +"Exactly," laughed Emory. "But, all joking aside, Mr. Cartwright, I +have become a confirmed disciple. I never felt so well, and I am eating +about half as much as I used to." + +"This seems to be developing into an experience meeting," Armstrong +remarked. "Why don't you write out a testimonial for the gentleman?" + +"I would gladly do so, but from what I hear he stands in no need of any +such document." + +Emory turned to Uncle Peabody. "It is a case of being 'advertised by our +grateful friends,' is it not, Mr. Cartwright?" + +"How long will you be in Florence, Phil?" asked Helen. "Are you just +passing through again, or is this where you make your visit to the City +of Flowers?" + +"I have no definite plans. My steamer doesn't sail for a month, and I am +moving along as the wind blows me. Are the Sinclair girls still here?" + +"No; they sailed for home last week." + +"Why don't you stay in Florence for a while and help Helen exercise the +automobile?" suggested Armstrong. "Miss Thayer and I are working every +day at the library, and it will prevent her becoming lonesome." + +Helen looked inquiringly at her husband. This suggestion from him, and +to Phil Emory of all men! The times had indeed altered! She saw that +Emory was observing her, and felt the necessity of relieving the +tension. + +"You must not put it on that score, Jack," she said, quietly. "I am not +at all lonely, but I should be very glad to have Phil join us to-morrow. +What do you say, Phil?" + +"I should like nothing better. But tell me about this work, Armstrong. +Are you really boning down to arduous labor on your honeymoon?" + +"It is a bit out of the ordinary, is it not?" admitted Jack, uncertain +whether or not Emory's question contained a reproach. "I would not dare +do it with any one except Helen, but she understands the necessity. I +don't know when I shall get another chance." + +"Jack is accomplishing wonders in his work," explained Helen, anxious to +have Emory feel her entire sympathy; "you must have him tell you about +it. In the mean time, while he is improving himself mentally, Uncle +Peabody and I are entering somewhat into the social frivolities of +Florence. To-morrow we are going to a reception to be given to the Count +of Turin and the Florentine Dante Society at the Villa Londi. Jack +scorns these functions, but you will be quite in your element. We will +take you with us." + +"It is not that I 'scorn' these things, as you say, Helen," protested +Armstrong. "You give any one an entirely wrong idea. They are all right +enough in their own way, but I can get these at home. This chance at the +library, however, is one in a lifetime, and I feel that I must improve +it." + +"Of course," replied Helen, "that is what I meant to say." + +Emory glanced from one to the other quietly. "I shall be most happy to +go if you are quite sure I won't interfere with the plans you have +already made. You know I am not on speaking terms with Italian." + +"You won't have to be," Uncle Peabody assured him. "These Italians speak +English so well that you will be ashamed of your ignorance. You will +have no difficulty in making yourself understood." + +Helen was rebellious at heart that Jack should have suggested Emory to +relieve her loneliness. It was enough that he was willing to be away +from her so much without taking it for granted and referring to it in +such a matter-of-fact way. Inez as well came in for her share of the +resentment, her very silence during the discussion serving to aggravate +Helen's discomfiture. Helen deliberately turned the conversation. + +"I can't help thinking of poor Ferdy, Phil. Have you heard from him +since you left him at Aix?" + +"No, but I should have heard if all had not been going well." + +"What is the matter with De Peyster?" asked Armstrong. + +"Oh, you did not hear what Phil told me about him before dinner, Jack. +He has been very ill, and Phil took him over to Aix for a cure." + +It was the first time De Peyster's name had been mentioned since his +abrupt departure, and Inez flushed deeply as she listened. + +"What was the trouble, Emory?" asked Armstrong, innocently. + +"He came pretty near having pneumonia," replied Emory. "He was hard hit +with a girl somewhere over here, and was thrown down, I suspect. Then he +grew careless and was a pretty sick chap when I ran across him in +Paris." + +Armstrong had no idea of the result of his question. He glanced hastily +at Inez and gulped down half a glass of wine, nearly choking himself in +the process. + +"There you go!" exclaimed Uncle Peabody, quite understanding the +situation and wishing to relieve the embarrassment. "You will drown +yourself one of these fine days if you don't listen to my teachings and +profit by Mr. Emory's example." + +But Emory was quite unconscious of the delicate ground upon which he +trod. The days and nights he had spent with De Peyster were still +strongly impressed upon his mind. + +"I thought you might know something about this, Helen," he continued, +"for Ferdy mentioned your name and Miss Thayer's several times while he +was delirious. I could not make out anything he said, he was so +incoherent. Later, when he began to improve, I asked him about it, but +he evidently did not care to talk. But how stupid I have been!" He broke +off suddenly and turned to Miss Thayer. "Here I have been sitting beside +you all this time and never once offered my congratulations!" + +Inez drew back from the proffered hand. The color left her face as +suddenly as it had come. "What do you mean?" she stammered. + +"Why, De Peyster told me you were engaged," Emory said, quite taken +aback. "Have I said something I ought not to? He said you told him so." + +"Mr. De Peyster had no right to say that!" Inez cried, fiercely, almost +breaking into tears. + +Emory was most contrite. "Ten thousand pardons," he apologized. "You +must forgive me, Miss Thayer. Ferdy never suggested that it was a secret +at all--and now I have given the whole thing away!" + +Emory wished himself half-way across the Atlantic. + +"I am very much annoyed," replied Inez, still struggling to contain +herself--"not with you, but with Mr. De Peyster." + +"But she is not engaged," Armstrong insisted, with decision. + +"I think Inez had better be left to settle that point herself, Jack," +Helen interrupted, pointedly. + +"Then why does she not settle it?" + +"I will settle it." Inez sat up very straight in her chair, her tense +features making her face look drawn in its ashy paleness. + +"Jack has no right to force you into any such position, Inez," Helen +protested, indignantly; "he is forgetting himself." + +"De Peyster is responsible for the whole thing." Emory struggled to step +in between the clash of arms. "I recall the very words. 'Phil, old +chap,' he said, 'you remember Miss Thayer? She is engaged. She told me +she had found some one whom she loved better than her life.' Can you +blame me for making such a consummate ass of myself?" + +Armstrong's intense interest had taken him too deeply into the affair +for him to heed Helen's protests. + +"You never said anything of the kind, did you, Miss Thayer?" + +"I am not engaged," replied Inez, very firmly, "and I cannot understand +why Mr. De Peyster should have put me in this uncomfortable position." + +"Of course not," assented Armstrong, with evident satisfaction. "De +Peyster is a fool. I will tell him so the next time I see him." + +"I think we had better change the subject," said Helen, rising, her +face flushed with indignation. "The methods of the Inquisition have no +place at a modern dinner-table." + + + + +XI + + +Inez Thayer had congratulated herself upon her success in keeping her +secret. Since her searching self-examination and the harrowing +experience during De Peyster's brief visit she had spent many hours +inwardly debating the proper steps to take in order to solve her +problem. She was certain that no one knew the real state of affairs, and +with this certainty the only danger lay in its effect upon herself. But +she knew all too well that this danger was indeed a real one. Day by day +her admiration for Armstrong increased, and with that admiration her +affection waxed stronger and stronger. Those hours together at the +library--when they were quite alone, when his face, in their joint +absorption in their work, almost touched hers, when his hand rested +unconsciously for a moment upon her own--were to her moments in the +Elysian Fields, and she quaffed deeply of the intoxicating draught. What +harm, she argued to herself, since her companion was oblivious to her +hidden sentiments--what disloyalty to her friend, since the pain must +all be hers? And the pain was hers already--why not revel in its ecstasy +while it lasted? + +With her conscience partially eased by her labored conclusions, Inez +threw herself into a complete enjoyment of her work. Helen's attitude +toward her had not in any way altered, and she was still apparently +entirely agreeable to the arrangement. Her suggestion to join them in +their labors was the only evidence which Inez had seen that perhaps her +friend was becoming restless, even though not ready to raise any +objections; but when Helen herself gave up the idea, after her single +visit to the library, Inez was convinced that she had misunderstood her +motive. Nothing remained, therefore, but to accept her previous argument +that she was simply following the inexorable guidance of Fate, with +herself the only possible victim. It was uncomfortable, it was wearing, +but she could not, she repeated over and over again, remove herself from +the exquisite suffering of her surroundings until she was absolutely +obliged to do so. + +The episode at the dinner-table completely shattered the structure she +had built, and its sudden demolition stunned her. This she vaguely +realized as she and Helen left the men at the table and walked to the +veranda for their coffee. Their departure was in itself an evidence of +new and strained conditions, as both Helen and Jack regarded the +coffee-and-cigar period as the best part of every dinner and a part to +be enjoyed together. Helen had not yet acquired the Continental +cigarette habit, but, as she had once expressed it, "Men are so +good-natured right after dinner, when they are stuffed, and so happy +when they are making silly little clouds of smoke!" + +Inez hesitatingly passed her arm around her friend's waist, and when +Helen drew her closely to her she rested her head against her shoulder, +relaxing like a tired child. + +"Who would have expected this outcome of such a happy day?" Inez +queried, sadly, as the two girls seated themselves upon the wicker +divan. + +"Jack was a brute!" exclaimed Helen, almost savagely. + +"It is all my own fault, Helen; but I could not tell them so in there." + +Helen appeared astonished. "How do you mean? Are you really engaged, +after all?" + +"No, no, Helen; but you see when Ferdy urged me so hard for an answer I +had to tell him something." + +Inez glanced up at Helen to see how she took her explanation. + +"So you told him you were engaged?" + +"Not exactly that, but--" + +"That you loved some one better than your life?" + +Inez shrank a little as she answered. "Something like that," she +admitted. + +"And it was not true?" + +Inez laughed nervously. "What an absurd question, Helen! You know I have +seen almost no one since I came here." + +"Except Jack," said Helen, impulsively. + +Inez sprang to her feet. "What do you mean, Helen? You don't accuse me +of being in love with your husband, do you?" + +Helen pulled her down beside her again. "Don't be tragic, dear," she +said, quietly. "I admit that the suggestion is unkind, after the display +Jack made of himself at the table. I am provoked with him myself." + +"Helen,"--Inez spoke abruptly, after a moment's silence--"I think I +ought to leave Florence." + +"Don't be absurd, Inez. You are worked up over this miserable affair, +but you will forget all about it in the morning--when you get back to +your work at the library." + +"No; this time I really mean what I say. I ought to have gone when my +visit was up a fortnight ago; but you were so sweet in urging me to +stay, and the work had developed with such increasing interest, that I +have just stayed on and on." + +"I am sorry if you regret having stayed, dear. It certainly seemed to be +for the best." + +"But see what it has brought on you, Helen." + +"I am not proud of my husband's behavior, I admit; but you have even +greater cause to feel annoyed than I." + +Inez seemed to be drifting hopelessly in her attempt to find the right +thing to say. + +"I have felt that I ought to go for a long time." + +"A long time?" Helen echoed. "Has Jack behaved as badly as this before?" + +"Not that; it is the library work which makes me feel so." + +"I don't wonder you are getting tired of it." + +"Tired of it! Oh, Helen, I wish you could get as much joy out of +anything as I do out of this work. Tired of it!" Inez laughed aloud at +the absurdity of the suggestion. Then she grew serious again. "I know I +ought to leave it, yet I cannot force myself to make the break." + +"I don't think I understand," said Helen, quietly, watching intently the +struggle through which the girl was passing. + +"I know you don't, and I don't believe I could make any one understand +it," replied Inez, helplessly. + +"You talk about it in this mysterious way just as Jack does," continued +Helen. "There must be some sort of spell about it, for you both are +changed beings since your first visit to the library." + +"Then you have noticed it?" Inez looked up anxiously. + +"Of course I have noticed it," admitted Helen, frankly. "How could I +help it when you yourself feel it so strongly?" + +"Do you blame me for it?" + +"Why should I blame you, Inez? Is there any reason why I should blame +any one?" + +"No, except that the work takes your husband away from you so much." + +"But I can't hold you responsible for that, can I? It is the work which +draws you both, is it not--not each the other?" + +Inez moved uneasily and withdrew her hand from Helen's lap. "Of course +it is the work," she answered, quietly; "but, frankly, would you not +rather have it discontinued?" + +"No," replied Helen, without hesitation; "but I sincerely wish Jack +might be less completely absorbed by it. I have no intention of opposing +it, and I am willing to sacrifice much for its success, yet I see no +reason why it should so wholly deprive me of my husband." + +"It has opened up an entirely new world for me." Inez seemed suddenly +obsessed by a reminiscent thought. Her troubled expression changed into +one of rapt ecstasy. Helen watched the transformation, deeply impressed +by the strange new light which she saw in the girl's eyes. "I must be +more impressionable than I supposed," she continued, "for it all seems +so real. I can see Michelangelo's face as I read his letters; I can see +his lips move, his expression change--I can even hear his voice. I have +watched him fashion the great David out of the discarded marble; I have +heard his discussions with Pope Julius and Pope Leo; I have witnessed +his struggle with Leonardo at the Palazzo Vecchio. The events come so +fast, and the letters give such minute information upon so many topics, +that I actually feel myself in the midst of it all. I know Vittoria +Colonna as well as Michelangelo ever did, and I know far better than he +why she refused to marry him. All these great characters, and others, +live and move and converse with us these mornings at the library." Inez +paused to get her breath. She was talking very fast. "I know it sounds +uncanny," she went on, "but there is something in the very atmosphere +which makes me forget who or what I am. Cerini comes and stands beside +us, rubbing his hands together and smiling, and yet we hardly notice +him. He is a part of it all. What he says seems no more real than the +conversations and the communions we have with the others who died +centuries ago. I realize how inexplicable all this must sound to you, +because I find myself absolutely unable to explain it to myself. It must +be a spell, as you say, but I have no strength to break it." + +"It must be something," Helen admitted, gravely, "to affect both you and +Jack the same way. I wonder what it is?" + +Inez paid no heed to the interrogation. "You should see your husband, +Helen, when he is at his work. You don't really know him as you see him +here." + +Helen felt herself impressed even more strongly than she had been during +her visit to the library. Inez spoke with the same intensity and +conviction which at that time had overwhelmed her previously conceived +plans. + +"Cerini said the same thing--" she began. + +"Cerini is right," Inez interrupted. "Your husband is a god among them +all. He is not a mere student, searching for facts, but one of those +great spirits themselves, looking into their lives and their characters +with a power and an intimacy which only a contemporary and an equal +could do. Cerini says that his book will be a masterpiece--that it will +place him among the great _savants_ of his time. No such work has been +produced in years; and you will be so proud of him, Helen--so proud that +he belongs to you! Is it not worth the sacrifice?" + +As her friend paused Helen bowed her head in silence. "So proud that he +belongs to you," Inez had just said. Did he belong to her--had he ever +belonged to her? The new light in Inez' eyes, the intensity of her +words, both convinced and controlled her. What was she, even though his +wife, to stand in the way of such a championship? What were the +conventions of commonplace domestic life in the presence of this +all-compelling genius? She felt her resentment against Jack become +unimportant. With such absorption it was but natural that he should not +act like other men. + +The sound of voices in the hall brought both girls to themselves. + +"Dare we come out?" asked Uncle Peabody, cautiously, pausing at the +door. "These back-sliders are very repentant, and I will vouch for their +good behavior." + +"There is only one of us who requires forgiveness," added Armstrong, +frankly, advancing to the divan. "I owe you both an apology; first of +all to my wife, for not heeding her good advice, and then to my +'sister-worker,' as Cerini calls her, for adding to her discomfiture." + +"If Inez will forgive you, I will cheerfully add my absolution," replied +Helen, forcing a smile. + +"I was really afraid that I was going to lose my right-hand man," +continued Armstrong by way of explanation, "and my work must then have +come to an abrupt conclusion." + +"You give me altogether too much credit," replied Inez. "The work is +already so much a part of yourself that you could not drop it if you +lost a dozen 'sister-workers.'" + +"It must never come to that, Jack," added Helen, seriously. "Inez will +surely stay until the book is completed, and I shall do what little I +can to help it to a glorious success." + +"You are a sweet, sympathizing little wife." Armstrong placed his hand +affectionately upon her shoulder. "Your interest in it will be all that +I need to make it so." + +Emory and Uncle Peabody instinctively glanced at each other, and for a +moment their eyes met. It was but an instant, yet in that brief exchange +each knew where the other stood. + + + + +BOOK II + +VICTIM OF FATE + + + + +XII + + +All Florence--social, literary, and artistic--was at the Londi +reception. The ancient villa, once the possession of the great Dante, +fell into gentle hands when the present owner, thirty years before, +entered into an appreciative enjoyment of his newly acquired property. +The structure itself was preserved and restored without destroying the +original beauty of its architecture; the walls were renovated and hung +with rich tapestries and rare paintings; priceless statuary found a +place in the courts and corridors, but with such perfect taste that one +felt instinctively that each piece belonged exactly where it stood as a +part of the complete harmony. + +Florentine society possesses two strong characteristics--hospitality and +sincerity. No people in the world so cordially welcome strangers who +come properly introduced to settle temporarily in their midst; no people +so plainly manifest their estimates of their adopted aliens. There is no +half-way, there is no compromise. They are courteous always, they are +considerate even when they disapprove; but when once they accept the +stranger into their circle they make him feel that he is and always has +been a part of themselves. + +Uncle Peabody had won this place long since. His genial disposition and +quiet philosophy appealed to them from the first by its very contrast to +their own impulsive Latin temperament. It was an easy matter, therefore, +for him to introduce his niece to those whom he counted among his +friends, and this he made it a point to do when he discovered how much +she would otherwise have been alone. Helen had ceased to urge Jack to +accompany her, and he seemed quite content to be omitted. Their first +weeks in Florence had been devoted to getting settled in their villa and +in rambling over the surrounding hills, entirely satisfied with their +own society. The house-party had taken up another week, and even before +the guests had departed Armstrong began his researches at the library, +which required a larger portion of each day as time went on. The moment +when Helen and Jack would naturally have jointly assumed their social +pleasures and responsibilities had passed, and the necessity for +diversion of some kind prompted Helen gratefully to accept her uncle as +a substitute. + +"There is a countrywoman of ours--the Contessa Morelli," Uncle Peabody +remarked, as he skilfully piloted Helen and Emory away from the crush in +the reception-hall, indicating a strikingly attractive woman surrounded +by a group of Italian gallants. "She came from Milwaukee, I believe, and +married the title, with the husband thrown in as a gratuity for good +measure." + +"She looks far too refined and agreeable to answer to your description," +Helen replied, after regarding the object of his comments. + +"She is refined and agreeable," assented Uncle Peabody, "and--worldly. +When you have once seen the count you will understand. She is a neighbor +of yours, so you must meet her--the Villa Morelli is scarcely a quarter +of a mile beyond the Villa Godilombra." + +"Don't overlook me in the introduction, will you?" urged Emory, eagerly. + +"Still as fond as ever of a pretty face, Phil?" queried Helen, laughing. + +"Of course," he acquiesced, cheerfully; "but this is a case of national +pride. You and she--the two American Beauties present--would make any +American proud of his country." + +Helen smiled and held up a finger warningly as she followed Uncle +Peabody's lead. The contessa acknowledged the introductions with much +cordiality, but to Emory's disappointment devoted herself at once to +Helen. + +"So you are from dear, old, chilly Boston," she said, breezily. "The +last time I passed through was on a July day, and I was so glad I had my +furs with me." + +"Boston is celebrated for its east winds," volunteered Emory, calmly. + +The contessa glanced at him for a moment to make sure that his +misunderstanding was wilful. + +"Yes," she replied, meaningly; "and I understand that in Boston the +revised adage reads, 'God tempers the east wind to the blue-bloods.'" + +"And I was just going to say some nice things about Milwaukee!" Emory +continued. + +"Then it is just as well that I discouraged you," the contessa +interrupted. "No one who has not lived there can ever think of anything +complimentary to say about Milwaukee except to expatiate upon its beer. +That seems to mark the limitations of his acquaintance with our city." + +The contessa turned to Helen. "Mr. Cartwright tells me that you and +your husband are my mysterious neighbors, about whom we have had so much +curiosity. You must let me call on you very soon." + +Helen was studying her new acquaintance with much interest. Her features +were as clearly cut as if the work of a master-sculptor, yet nature had +improved upon human skill by adding a color to the cheeks and a vivacity +to the eye which made their owner irresistible to all who met her; while +the simple elegance of her lingerie gown, in striking contrast to the +dress of the Italian women near her, set off to advantage the lines of +her graceful figure. She was a few years older than Helen, yet evidently +a younger woman in years than in experience. Uncle Peabody's comments +had naturally prejudiced Helen to an extent, yet she could not resist a +certain appeal which unconsciously attracted her. + +"I hope we may see much of each other," the contessa continued, +cordially, scarcely giving Helen an opportunity even for perfunctory +replies. "Morelli is housed by the gout at least half of the time, and +he bores me to death with his description of the various symptoms. I +will run over to Villa Godilombra and let you rehearse your troubles for +a change. But, of course, you have no troubles--Mr. Cartwright said you +were a bride, did he not?" + +The contessa noticed the color which came in Helen's face, and her +experience, tempered by her intuition, told her that it was not a blush +of pleasure. + +"Where is your husband?" she asked, pointedly. "You must present him to +me." + +"He is engaged upon some literary work at the library," Helen replied. + +"Oh, a learned man! That is almost as bad as the gout!" The contessa +held up her hands in mock horror. "Then you will need my sympathy, after +all," she said, with finality. "Oh, these husbands!--these husbands!" + +It was a relief to Helen when other guests claimed the contessa's +attention. Uncle Peabody had mingled with friends in the drawing-room, +so she and Emory moved on in the same direction. Here she found many +whom she had previously met, and for half an hour held a court as large +and as admiring as the contessa's. Emory was quite unprepared to find +his companion so much at home in this different atmosphere. + +"By Jove, Helen," he whispered, as he finally discovered an opportunity +to converse with her again, "one would think you had always lived in +Florence. If it were not for the gold lace of the army officers and the +white heads of the ancient gallants who flock about you, I should almost +imagine we were at the Assemblies again." + +"Every one is cordiality itself," replied Helen. "See Uncle Peabody over +there! Is he not having a good time? He told me Professor Tesso, of the +University of Turin, was to be here, and I presume that is he." + +Following the example of the other guests, Helen and Emory strolled out +into the main court, in one corner of which is the old well dating back +to the time when the Divine Poet slaked his thirst at its stony brim. +The sun streamed in through the narrow windows and lighted the +terra-cotta flagstones where its rays struck, making the extreme corners +of the court seem even dimmer. With rare restraint, the only decoration +consisted of long festoons, made of lemons, pomegranates, eucalyptus, +oranges, and laurel, fashioned to resemble the majolicas of Della Robbia +and hung gracefully along the stone balcony, between which was an +occasional rare old rug or costly tapestry. Passing slowly up the +spacious stairway, stopped now and again by one or more of Helen's newly +acquired friends, they reached the library, where some of the more +valuable manuscripts and early printed volumes were exposed to view. A +group of book-lovers were eagerly examining an edition of Dante resting +upon a graceful thirteenth-century _leggio_, printed by Lorenzo Della +Magna, and illustrated with Botticelli's remarkable engravings. From the +balcony, leading out from the library, they gained a view of the +carefully laid-out garden, brilliant in its color display and redolent +with the mingled fragrance of myriads of blossoms. + +Here Uncle Peabody rejoined them, bringing with him the scholarly +looking professor from Turin. + +"Helen, I want you to meet Professor Tesso. He was among the first who +saw in my theories and experiments any signs of merit." + +The professor held up his hand deprecatingly. "You give me too much +credit, Mr. Cartwright. Judicially, we men of science are all hidebound +and look upon every innovation as erroneous until proved otherwise. We +could not believe that your theories of body requirements of food were +sound because they differed so radically from what we had come to regard +as standard. But when you proved yourself right by actual experiment we +had no choice in the matter." + +"Uncle Peabody has been very persistent," said Helen, smiling. "His own +conviction in time becomes contagious, does it not?" + +"That is just it," assented Professor Tesso. "What he had told us is +something which we really should have known all the time, but we failed +to recognize its importance. Now he has forced us to accept it, and the +credit is properly his." + +"I have invited Professor Tesso to take tea with us to-morrow afternoon, +Helen, at the villa," said Uncle Peabody. + +"By all means," Helen urged, cordially. "We shall be so glad to welcome +you there." + +The sudden exodus of the guests gave notice that something unusual was +occurring below. + +"It must be the arrival of the Count of Turin," explained Uncle Peabody. +"Let us descend and take a look at Italian royalty." + +With the others they entered the magnificent ball-room--a modern +addition to the original villa made by Napoleon for his sister Pauline +when she became Grand-Duchess of Tuscany. In the centre of the room, +surrounded by his suite, stood the count, graciously receiving the +guests presented to him by his host. Hither and thither among the crowd +ran little flower-maidens bestowing favors upon the ladies and +_boutonnieres_ upon their escorts. A few pieces of music played quietly +behind a bank of palms, the low strains blending pleasantly with the hum +of conversation. + +As Helen and Emory stood with a few Italian friends, a little apart from +the others, watching the brilliant throng, Cerini suddenly joined them. +Helen had never thought of him outside the library, and it seemed to her +as if one of the chained volumes had broken away from its anchorage. The +old man saw the surprise in her face and smiled genially. + +"I seldom come to gatherings such as this," he explained, even before +the question was put to him; "but his Highness commanded me to meet him +here." Cerini smiled again and looked into Helen's face with undisguised +admiration. "This is where you belong," he assured her, quietly but +enthusiastically--"this is your element. Do you not see that I was right +that day at the library? You are even more beautiful than when I saw you +before. There is a new strength in your face. You are a creation of the +master-artist, like a marvellous painting which intoxicates the senses." + +Helen had no answer, but the old man continued: + +"I have just left your husband and his sister-worker. They are not +beautiful--they represent the wisdom which one finds in books. The world +needs both, my daughter. Be content." + +And without waiting for a reply Cerini disappeared in the crowd of +guests as suddenly as he had come. + + + + +XIII + + +Emory was the only one near enough to Helen to observe the interview +with Cerini. The old man's words were uttered in too low a tone to reach +his ears, but Emory saw Helen close her eyes for a fraction of a second +and heard her draw a quick breath. Then she turned to him with a smile +so natural that he nearly believed himself deceived, and found himself +almost convinced that he must have been mistaken in what he thought he +had discovered. + +"Whose little old man is that?" Emory queried. + +Helen laughed. Emory had a way of putting questions in a form least +expected. + +"Monsignor Cerini," she answered, "and he belongs to Jack." + +"Oh, he is the librarian!" Phil recognized the descriptions he had heard +at the villa. "Interesting-looking old chap; I don't wonder Jack likes +him." + +"He is a wonderful man," assented Helen; "but his knowledge almost +frightens one. I feel like an ignorant child every time I meet him." + +They strolled slowly through the brilliant throng out into the court, +up the stairs, and into the library again. The room was wholly deserted, +the other guests preferring to watch the spectacle below. No word was +spoken until Helen threw herself into a great chair near the balcony. + +"What an awful thing it is to have so little knowledge!" she exclaimed. + +Emory looked at her in surprise. At first he could not believe her +serious, but the expression on her face was convincing. + +"Compared to Cerini?" he asked. + +"Compared to any one who has brains--like Jack or Inez." + +Emory studied his companion carefully. The impression made upon him a +few moments before, then, was no hallucination. + +"What did Cerini say which upset you, Helen?" + +"Cerini?" Helen repeated. "Why, nothing. As a matter of fact, he was +very complimentary--even gallant. Some of you younger men could take +lessons from Cerini in the gentle art of flattery." + +"I beg your pardon, Helen," Emory apologized; "I had no intention of +intruding." + +"Dear old Phil," cried Helen, holding out her hand impulsively, "of +course you had not, and you could not intrude, anyhow." + +Emory held the proffered hand a moment before it was withdrawn. "I can't +help feeling concerned when I see something disturb you," he said, +quietly--"now, any more than I could before." + +Helen saw that she had not succeeded in deceiving him, but was +determined that he should discover as little as possible. "I don't +believe Florence is just the right atmosphere for me," she began. "I did +not notice at first how much more every one here knows about everything +than I do, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. That is what I meant. Of +course one expects this supreme knowledge in a man like Cerini, but even +those Florentines whom one meets casually at receptions such as this are +as well informed on literature and art and music as those whom we +consider experts at home." + +"This lack of knowledge on your part does not seem to interfere any with +their admiration for you," insisted Emory. "If Jack took the trouble to +see how much attention you received he might have a little less interest +in that precious work of his." + +"You must not speak like that, Phil," Helen protested. "Jack is doing +something which neither you nor I can appreciate, but that is our own +fault and not his. I only wish I could understand it. Every one says +that his book will make him famous, and then we all shall be proud of +him--even prouder than we are now." + +Emory rose impatiently. "You are quite right, Helen,--I certainly don't +appreciate it, under the circumstances; but I shall put my foot in this +even worse than I did yesterday with Miss Thayer, so I suggest that we +change the subject. Come, let us see what is going on down-stairs." + +Uncle Peabody met them in the court. "I was coming after you," he said +by way of explanation. "Tesso has just left, and we also must make our +adieux. Would you mind taking Mr. Emory and me to the Florence Club, +Helen, on the way home? He might like to see it." + +Their appearance in the hall was a signal for the unattached men again +to surround Helen with protestations of regret that she had absented +herself from the reception-room, and Emory watched the episode with grim +satisfaction. Uncle Peabody appeared to take no notice of anything +except his responsibility, and gradually guided the party to where their +host and hostess were standing, and then out to the automobile. An +invigorating run down the hill, past the walls which shut out all but +the luxuriant verdure of the high cypresses, alternating with the olive +and lemon trees, and through the town, brought them to the Piazza +Vittorio Emanuele, where the car paused for a moment to allow the men to +alight. Then, after brief farewells, Helen continued her ride alone to +Settignano. + +Uncle Peabody led the way up the stairs to a small room leading off from +the main parlor of the club. Producing some cigars, he motioned to Emory +to make himself comfortable at one end of a great leather-covered divan, +while he drew up a chair for himself. + +"I brought you here for a definite purpose," he announced as soon as the +preliminaries were arranged. + +"I think I can divine the purpose," replied Emory, striking a match and +lighting his cigar. + +Uncle Peabody looked at his companion inquiringly. + +"It is about Helen, is it not?" continued Emory, without waiting for Mr. +Cartwright to question him. + +"It is," assented Uncle Peabody; "and your intuition makes my task the +easier." + +"It is not intuition," corrected Emory; "it is observation." + +"Well, call it what you like--the necessity is the same. Perhaps I have +no right to discuss this matter with you, but I understand you have +known Helen for a good while and pretty well." + +"So well that I would have married her if she had ever given me the +chance," asserted Emory, calmly. + +"What do you make out of the case?" + +"The girl is desperately unhappy." + +"She is. But how are we going to help her without making things a +thousand times worse?" + +Emory smoked his cigar meditatively. "I have been thinking of that, +too," he replied at length, "but with no more success, apparently, than +yourself. It is a rather delicate matter." + +"There is no question about that." Uncle Peabody spoke decisively. "And +this is all the more reason why we should talk things over together. We +are the only ones who can possibly straighten matters out, and I am not +at all certain that we can accomplish anything." + +"Do you think Armstrong himself realizes the situation?" + +"Not in the slightest. He is absolutely absorbed." + +"How about Miss Thayer?" + +Uncle Peabody looked at Emory interrogatively. "What have you observed +about Miss Thayer?" he asked. + +"That she is exceedingly sensitive upon the subject of her engagement," +replied Emory, with feeling. + +"Have you come to any conclusion as to the reason?" + +Emory was surprised by the implied meaning in Mr. Cartwright's words. +"Why, no," he said, slowly. + +"I was here when De Peyster proposed to her," Uncle Peabody continued. + +"Then she was the girl!" + +"She was the girl," repeated his companion. "When she threw him over, +she did not tell him that she was engaged, as he repeated to you, but +that she loved some one else." + +A wave of understanding passed over Emory. + +"And the some one else was--Armstrong! What a stupid fool I've been!" +Emory rose and walked to the window. Suddenly he turned. "Does Helen +know this?" + +"Without a doubt." + +"Then why does she not put a stop to it?" + +"Now you have at length arrived at my standpoint," replied Uncle +Peabody, with satisfaction. "Helen knows it, I am convinced. Miss +Thayer, of course, knows her own feelings. Armstrong is head over heels +in this alleged masterpiece of his, and I give him credit for +appreciating Miss Thayer's sentiments toward him as little as he does +Helen's sufferings. Except for this I should not think of interfering, +but under the circumstances I feel that between us we may have a chance +to straighten things out before the principals know that there is +anything which needs straightening." + +"That is a fair statement of the basis of the conspiracy," said Emory, +returning to his seat; "but have you worked out the details as +carefully?" + +"No," admitted Uncle Peabody, frankly. "That is a more difficult +proposition, and I doubt if we can formulate any definite plan. It +occurred to me that if we joined forces we would stand a better chance +of hitting upon some expedient when the opportunity offered." + +"Helen seems more or less reconciled, in spite of what we know she +feels," said Emory, reflectively; "you heard what she said to Armstrong +last evening about helping his work to a glorious success?" + +"She is trying desperately to be reconciled, and she thinks she has +concealed her real feelings," replied Uncle Peabody; "but she is eating +her heart out all the time." + +"Well, I wish I thought I could help her some way." Emory rose and +extended his hand. "I have never looked upon myself as much of a success +in matters like this, Mr. Cartwright, but there is nothing I would not +do for Helen--even to helping her to get a divorce!" + +Uncle Peabody smiled as he took Emory's hand and held it firmly. "I +suspect you will have to eliminate yourself if you hope to accomplish +anything. If I know Helen at all, she will never take another chance if +this first venture turns out unfortunately. But let us hope that all +will right itself, and that we may be the direct or indirect means of +its so doing." + +"Amen to that," assented Emory, warmly. "I have wanted Helen always, but +I should be a brute if I did not want her happiness first of all." + +"I thought I had made no mistake," replied Uncle Peabody. "I rather +pride myself on my skill in reading human nature, and I should have been +disappointed in you had you failed me." + + * * * * * + +Uncle Peabody was late in returning to the villa, and the family had +already seated themselves at dinner. + +"We are all going for a moonlight ride," announced Armstrong as Mr. +Cartwright apologized for his tardy appearance, "and we felt sure you +would soon be here. Did you ever see such a perfect evening?" + +Uncle Peabody resolved to try an experiment. "May I venture to suggest +an amendment?" he asked. + +"What improvement can you possibly make on my plan?" Armstrong was +incredulous. + +"Simply that Miss Thayer and I give you and Helen a chance to enjoy the +ride by yourselves, after the style of true honeymooners." + +Helen's face flushed with pleasure, but Armstrong resented any change in +his original arrangement. + +"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "Helen and I are not so sentimental, I trust, +as to wish to keep you and Miss Thayer from enjoying the ride with us on +such a night as this." + +"I think Mr. Cartwright's amendment an excellent one," said Inez. "It +will be much better for you and Helen to go by yourselves." + +"Now you have broken up the whole party!" Armstrong turned petulantly on +Uncle Peabody. "Miss Thayer has been working all the afternoon in the +library, and needs the refreshment of the air even more than Helen." + +"If Miss Thayer will permit," replied Uncle Peabody, maintaining his +ground stoutly, "I will do my best to make her evening an agreeable +one." + +Armstrong was not appeased, but could hardly do other than accept the +situation. After seeing the car depart from the court-yard, Uncle +Peabody and Miss Thayer strolled out to the garden, where he arranged +their chairs so that they might gain the choicest view of the +moon-illumined city and the winding river, silver in the soft, pale +light. + +"I have kept you from an interesting experience," Uncle Peabody began, +"but I know how much it will mean to Helen to have her husband all to +herself. You understand, I am sure." + +"I do understand, perfectly," replied Inez, heartily. "I am only ashamed +that I did not think of it myself; but it is difficult to oppose Mr. +Armstrong in anything he has his heart set on, and I confess that I do +not possess your courage." + +"I doubt if I should have been so courageous had I realized how +disagreeable he would be. Armstrong has changed much in the few weeks I +have known him." + +Uncle Peabody made his assertion boldly, and then waited for a response. +Inez looked up quickly. + +"I think it is hard for any one to understand Mr. Armstrong without +seeing him at his work. He has changed, as you say, but it is a change +which no one--least of all himself--could prevent." + +Uncle Peabody expected a defence--that was but natural. + +"I don't think I quite follow you," he said, wishing to draw her out. +"Would you mind telling me more about the work, and what there is in it +to affect him in this way?" + +"I wish I could make it clear to you, for unless you understand it you +will do him a great injustice." Inez again keyed herself up to her +self-appointed task. "Helen asked me the same question last evening, and +I realized while talking with her how poorly fitted I myself am to +attempt any explanation." + +The girl paused. She knew that her companion would analyze what she said +much more thoroughly than Helen had done. + +"Were you ever under an hypnotic influence?" she asked, suddenly. + +"Yes," replied Uncle Peabody, calmly. "But you don't mean to say that +this has happened to Jack?" + +"Yes and no," Inez continued. "If I believed in reincarnation I should +say without hesitation that Mr. Armstrong was living over again, here in +Florence, an existence which he had previously experienced centuries +ago. As I don't believe in this, I can simply say that there is a +something which comes from an intimate contact with these master-spirits +of the past which is so compelling that it takes one out of the present +and assumes complete control over him. While we are at the library all +else is forgotten. I work there beside him hour after hour, yet he seems +entirely unconscious of my presence except to the extent to which it +assists his own efforts. All personality is absolutely obliterated. I +understand it, because to a lesser degree I have felt it myself. When we +leave the library he becomes more like himself again; but as he gets +deeper into his work, his absorption is greater, and for that reason +alone, I believe, he is less mindful of the usual every-day conventions. +I wish I could make it clear to you." + +Uncle Peabody did not reply at once. What Inez had said gave him a new +viewpoint both of Armstrong and of her. + +"How long do you think this will continue?" he asked at length. + +"Until his work is finished." + +"And when will that be?" + +"Another month, at least." + +Uncle Peabody was again silent, weighing the situation from the present +standpoint. "What is to become of Helen in the mean time?" he asked, +abruptly. + +Miss Thayer had anticipated this question. "Helen understands the +situation perfectly," she said, confidently. "She has talked it over +with him and with me. It is a sacrifice on her part to be separated from +her husband, especially at this time, but it is one which she is willing +to accept for her husband's sake." + +"Would you be willing to accept it were the conditions reversed?" + +Inez flushed, but stood her ground bravely. "Perhaps not," she +admitted; "but Helen is a stronger woman than I." + +"She does not think so." + +"Helen is a much stronger woman than she herself realizes." + +Uncle Peabody was thoughtful. "Let me ask you one more question. Do you +think that this spell, or influence, or whatever you may call it, in any +way affects Armstrong's affection for his wife?" + +"I am sure that it does not," replied Inez, with decision. "His devotion +to Helen must be even stronger, because he can but appreciate the +splendid generosity she is showing." + +"He certainly adopts curious methods of demonstrating it." + +"But consider the influences he is under!" Inez urged. + +Uncle Peabody admired the girl's handling of the catechising he had +given her. He looked steadily into her face before replying. + +"You are a noble champion, Miss Thayer," he said, at length. + +"That is because I have faith in the cause," responded Inez, smiling. "I +have been brought up to believe that every married woman must at some +time in her life make a supreme sacrifice for her husband. I only hope +that when my turn comes the sacrifice may be made for so good a cause." + +"This is another version of the chastening of the spirit," added Uncle +Peabody; "but I am thinking of a certain spirit which received so much +chastening that it never revived. I sincerely trust that history may not +repeat itself." + + + + +XIV + + +Uncle Peabody was entirely right when he stated that Armstrong had +become a changed man since he first came to Florence; Miss Thayer was +right when she attributed this change to the associations into which he +had thrown himself--yet both were wrong in thinking him unconscious of +his own altered condition. As he told Helen, he had ever felt some +irresistible influence drawing him back to Florence, even while +engrossed in the duties of his profession. Just what the craving was he +could not have explained even to himself. What he should find in +Florence had taken no definite form in his mind, yet the longing +possessed him in spite of all he could do to reason with himself against +it. + +After his arrival in Florence, even, it was not until Cerini suggested +the Michelangelo letters that he formulated any plan to gratify his +long-anticipated expectations. His arguments with himself had prepared +him for a disappointment. It had been a boyish fancy, he said, inwardly; +he had felt the influences of his environment simply because he had been +young and impressionable, and it was quite impossible that he should +now, man-grown, prove susceptible to anything so inexplicable as what he +had felt in his earlier days. + +Then came the experience with Cerini and Miss Thayer. She was a woman, +truly, and subject to a woman's physical frailties, yet she was +intellectually strong, and could not so have yielded to anything but a +controlling power. Here, then, was a second personality affected in a +like manner as himself by the same influences. He did not try to explain +it; he accepted it as an evidence that this influence, whatever it was, +existed and made itself manifest. From that moment he merged his own +individuality into those to whom Cerini with gentle suasion introduced +him. The librarian incited him by his own enthusiasm, and then directed +him along the paths which he himself so loved to tread. + +But Cerini did not foresee the extremes to which his pupil's devotion +would carry him. Day by day Armstrong felt himself becoming more and +more separated from all about him, and more and more amalgamated with +those forces which had preceded him. The society of any save those who +acted and thought as he did failed to appeal to him. His affection for +Helen suffered no change, except that she became less necessary to him. +As the work progressed the intervals away from the library seemed +longer, and he found it more difficult to enter into the life about him. +Then came an irritability, entirely foreign to his nature, which he +could not curb. + +Yet through it all he was entirely conscious of what was happening. He +compared himself more than once to a man in a trance, painfully alive to +all the preparations going on about him for his own entombment, yet +unable to cry out and put a stop to it all. He wished that Helen would +object to his absences and force him to become a part of her life again. +He wished that Miss Thayer would tire of the work and leave him alone in +it. In contemplating either event he suffered at the mere thought of +what such an interruption would mean to him, he knew that he would +interpose strenuous objections--yet in a way he longed for the break to +come. + +Armstrong had been in one of these inexplicably irritable moods when +Uncle Peabody crossed him in his plan for the moonlight ride to San +Miniato. As a matter of fact, it was only because Miss Thayer had +complained of a headache as they left the library that the idea of a +ride had occurred to him at all; and to have Mr. Cartwright calmly +propose that she drop out of the planned excursion struck him as a +distinct intrusion upon his own prerogatives. The automobile fever was +out of his blood now; the motor-car had become to him merely a +convenience, and no longer an exhilaration. It was quite inevitable that +Miss Thayer should acquiesce in Uncle Peabody's suggestion--in fact, she +could do nothing else; yet at the library she accepted even his +slightest suggestion without question, and Armstrong preferred this +latter responsive attitude. All in all, he would have been glad to find +some excuse for giving up the ride altogether; but none offered itself, +so, with every movement an obvious protest, he had helped Helen into the +tonneau and stepped in after her. + +Helen was hardly in a happier frame of mind, yet she found herself so +eager for this time alone with her husband that she raised none of the +obstacles which she would have done a month earlier. It was a perfect +June evening, with the air cooled enough by the light wind to make the +breeze raised by the speed of the car agreeable to the face. The moon +was just high enough to cause deep shadows to fall across the roadway +and merge into fantastic shapes as the machine approached and passed +over them. The peasants were out-of-doors, and expressed their +contentment by snatches of song, rendered in the rich, melodious voices +which are the natural heritage of this light-hearted people. The toil of +the day was over, and they were entering into a well-earned _riposo_ +before the duties of the next sunrise claimed their strength. + +"How peaceful this is!" Helen exclaimed, turning to her husband. The +breeze had blown back the lace scarf from her head, and the moon fell +full upon her luxuriant hair, lighting her upturned face. "All nature is +at rest and peace, and the people reflect the contentment of the land." + +"Your uncle is becoming very dictatorial," replied Armstrong, quite at +variance with her mood. + +"Why, Jack!" + +Helen was mildly reproachful, yet she instinctively felt the necessity +of being cautious. Perhaps she could make him forget his resentment. + +"Uncle Peabody only meant to give us an opportunity to be by ourselves. +We have had so few." + +"He should have understood that I had some good reason for planning +matters just as I did or I should not have done it." + +"Do you regret being alone with me?" + +Helen struggled to keep the tears out of her voice. + +"Don't be absurd, Helen," replied Armstrong, impatiently. "That is not +the point at all. Miss Thayer is tired and needed this relaxation. Mr. +Cartwright had no right to interfere." + +There was a long silence, during which Armstrong relapsed into a +profound taciturnity, while Helen found it hard to know what tack to +take. She glanced occasionally at her husband, but could gain no +inspiration from his grim, set features. + +"Tell me, Jack," she said, at length, "is it not possible for you to +pursue your work at the library without having it make you so +indifferent to everything else?" + +He shifted his position uneasily. "I am not indifferent to everything +else. The fact that I proposed this ride is an evidence of that." + +"Has something happened to make my companionship distasteful to you?" + +Armstrong became more and more irritated. "I don't see why you are so +possessed to make me uncomfortable, Helen. But I understand what you are +driving at." + +"What am I driving at?" she asked, quietly. + +"You are taking this method to force me to put an end to my work." + +Helen winced. "Is that fair, Jack? What have I said to you every time +the subject has been mentioned?" + +"You have told me to go ahead, and then you have shown quite plainly by +every action that you did not mean it." + +"Jack Armstrong!" She was indignant at his gross injustice. + +"What have I said each time the subject has come up?" continued +Armstrong. "You have had every opportunity to have your own way in this +as in all other matters. I repeat it now--is it your wish that I stop my +work? Say but the word and I will never enter that library again." + +Helen was hurt through and through. To what avail was her sacrifice if +it be so little understood, so little appreciated? + +"I don't wish to be misunderstood in this," added Armstrong, as if in +answer to her thoughts. "I quite realize that I have asked much of you +who can understand so little of what my book means to me. I have been +entirely frank, and have accepted from you the time which rightfully +belongs to you in the spirit, as I supposed, in which you gave it to me. +If you did not mean what you said, you have but to tell me so and it +shall be exactly as you wish." + +"I have meant every word I have said, Jack," replied Helen, in a low, +strained voice. "I have been glad to contribute in the only way I could +to anything which means so much to you. I simply ask you now whether it +is necessary for this absorption to include all of yourself even when +you are away from it. I did not suppose that this was essential." + +"You are exaggerating the situation out of all proportion." + +"I wish I were, Jack." + +Helen's voice had a tired note in it which Armstrong could not fail to +perceive. He was amazed by his own apathy. Why did it mean so little to +him? Why did he sit there beside her as if he had not noticed it when in +reality he felt the pain as keenly as she did? He turned and looked at +her for the first time since they had started. Helen gave no sign that +she was conscious of his scrutiny, lying back with her cheek resting +upon her hand, her eyes closed, her lips quivering now and then in spite +of her supreme effort to control herself. Always, before, Armstrong +would have folded her in his arms and brushed away the heart-pains, real +or imaginary as they might have been. Now he sat watching her suffer +without making any effort to relieve her. + +He despised himself for his attitude. What wretched thing had come +between him and this girl whom he had idolized, and prevented him from +extending even the common sympathy which belonged to any one who needed +it? What malevolent power forced him to be the cause of this sorrow and +yet forbade him the privilege of assuaging it? This was not the lesson +learned from the humanists. Why should not he be able to give out to +those around him the reflection of that true happiness which their work +first taught the world? + +Helen opened her eyes suddenly and looked full into his. Startled at the +expression on his face, she sat upright, keenly anxious and forgetful of +her own troubles. + +"Jack dear," she cried, "you are not well! You are unhappy, too! Tell me +what it all means, and let us understand it together!" + +Her voice brought back the old condition. His eyes lowered and he +withdrew his hand from Helen's impulsive grasp. With a heart heavy for +the explanation which lay close at hand, his voice refused to obey. + +"I am perfectly well, Helen," he replied. "Why should you think me +otherwise?" + +The reaction was great, yet Helen succeeded in retaining her control. +While conscious, during the weeks past, of the change in her husband's +bearing toward her, she was unprepared for his present attitude. Yet the +look in his face when she had surprised him by opening her eyes was the +old expression by which in the past she had known that something had +touched him deeply--but it was intensified beyond anything she had ever +seen. It had always been her privilege to comfort him under these +conditions, and instinctively her heart sprang forward to meet his. Then +she saw the expression change and she grew cold with apprehension. + +"Ask Alfonse to turn back, please," she begged. "The air is getting +chilly and I think I would rather be home." + +In response to her desire the chauffeur turned the car, and the ride +back to the villa was accomplished in silence. Helen's thoughts ran +rampant, but further conversation was impossible. Her pain was now +tempered by her anxiety. Jack was not well, in spite of his disclaimers. +His close application to his work in the poorly ventilated library had +undoubtedly affected him, and this was the explanation of his otherwise +inexplicable attitude toward her. It was with positive relief that she +discovered any explanation, and as she thought things over this relief +lightened the burden she had been carrying all these weeks more than +anything which had happened since the cloud began to gather. In some way +she must plan to relieve the pressure and bring her husband back to her +and to himself again. + +Inez and Uncle Peabody met them at the doorway. + +"The ride has done you good," said the latter, giving his hand to Helen +and noting the light in the girl's eyes as they walked toward the hall. + +"I have left my scarf in the car," said Helen, turning back so quickly +that Mr. Cartwright had no opportunity to offer his services. + +Armstrong and Inez were standing together on the step, and as Helen +approached she could not help overhearing her husband's reply to Miss +Thayer's inquiring looks. + +"You are the only one who understands me," Armstrong was saying--"you +are the only one!" + + + + +XV + + +The next afternoon was a warm one, and Annetta searched for some little +time before she discovered Uncle Peabody half concealed within a natural +arbor formed by the falling branches of an ancient tree. Here, in the +cooling shade, he was reading over a budget of letters just received +from America. Emory followed close behind the maid, and laughed heartily +at Mr. Cartwright's jump of startled surprise when Annetta broke into +his absorption with the announcement of "Signor Emori." + +"Hello, Emory!" he cried, looking up genially from the letter in his +hand. "I was thousands of miles away, and two words from the lips of the +gentle serving-maid brought me back to Florence. Marconigrams are +nothing compared with the marvellous exhibition you have just +witnessed." + +"It is a shame to interrupt you," Emory apologized. "I came up early +hoping to have a little chat with you before Professor Tesso and +tea-time arrived." + +"Don't apologize, I beg of you," protested Uncle Peabody, gathering up +his letters and making room for Emory to sit beside him. "I was just on +the point of returning, anyway, and you have saved me the necessity of +packing up. In fact, you are very welcome." + +"I judge your news is of an agreeable nature?" + +Emory saw that Uncle Peabody was eager to be questioned. + +"Things are advancing famously," replied Mr. Cartwright, +enthusiastically. "These letters are from America, and report the +fullest success attending the experiments there with which I am so +vitally concerned. But what are you carrying so carefully at +arm's-length?" + +Uncle Peabody peered into the little wicker cage Emory was holding. + +"Ah, a _grillo_!" he said. "Then to-day must be Ascension Day and the +_Festa dei Grilli_. I had forgotten the date." + +"So that explains why they are selling these little cages with crickets +inside of them all over the city. The old woman I bought this of told me +it was a token of good luck, so I brought it to Helen." + +"She will be interested in it," replied Uncle Peabody. "The little +_grillo_ brought luck once upon a time, if the legend be true, and it +may do so again." + +"Is this _Festa dei Grilli_, as you call it, an annual festival?" + +"Yes; and as firmly established as the Feast of the Dove on Easter eve. +The story goes that an attempt was once made upon the life of Lorenzo +de' Medici in his own garden by the familiar means of a goblet of +poisoned wine. As the would-be assassin handed the goblet to Lorenzo a +cricket alighted on the surface of the wine and immediately expired. +Thus, as in modern melodrama, the villain was foiled. Since then, a +Florentine would harm a human being as soon as he would a _grillo_. Each +year these cages are taken into the homes, and as long as the little +crickets can be kept alive good luck attends the household." + +"Speaking of conspiracies," remarked Emory, who lost no time in finding +an opening, "how advances our present one? I have been thinking of +nothing else since our talk about Helen." + +Uncle Peabody rose and glanced around the garden from his point of +vantage. "Careful!" he said, drawing back. "Helen is coming, and I can +only say that we must move very cautiously--even more so than I +supposed. I will tell you more later." + +"Here we are, Helen," he answered, in response to his niece's call, and +both men advanced to meet her. + +"Oh, you have found my 'snuggery'!" cried Helen, seeing them emerge from +the arbor. "I intended to keep that entirely for myself, but I will be +generous and share it with you." + +"Mr. Emory has brought you a talisman," said Uncle Peabody, pointing to +the wicker cage. "Perhaps you will permit this to appease your +displeasure." + +Helen examined with interest the cage Emory placed in her hand. + +"Why, it is a cricket!" she exclaimed, as she discovered the occupant +beneath the green leaves. + +The story of the origin of the _festa_ was retold and the _grillo_ +placed under her special protection. + +"It is an emblem of good luck, Helen," added Emory--"like the swastika, +only a great deal less commonplace." + +"Thank you, Phil," replied Helen. Then she looked up at him suddenly. +"Why did you bring it to me?" she asked, suspiciously. "Do you think I +need it?" + +"I think we all need all the good luck we can get," replied Emory, +guardedly. + +"Tesso is late," remarked Uncle Peabody, opportunely, looking at his +watch. "He will be greatly interested in the reports of these American +experiments." + +Another half-hour passed by before the professor from Turin arrived. +Helen strolled about the garden with Emory, pointing out the unusual +flowers and shrubs, while Uncle Peabody collected his letters and +arranged them in proper sequence. Annetta brought out the tea-table and +laid everything in readiness, returning to the house just in time to +usher the dignified figure into the hall. + +"I hope I have not disarranged your plans," apologized the professor, +pleased with the cordiality of his reception. "I had a little experience +which delayed me." + +"My uncle is so anxious to tell you of some good tidings, professor, +that he has almost become impatient," replied Helen, smiling. "You +observe that I say 'almost,' do you not?" + +"It would never do for him to become impatient, would it?" replied +Tesso, turning to his friend--"you the disciple of Cornaro and the +example to us all! But I myself am weaker--I admit my impatience." + +Uncle Peabody and Emory drew up the chairs, and Tesso seated himself +next to Mr. Cartwright with obvious expectancy. + +"You recall the results of my own experiments in attempting to show +increased muscular and mental endurance as a result of eating in right +manner what the appetite selects instead of eating in wrong manner what +the doctors advise?" began Uncle Peabody. + +"And incidentally demonstrating that the existing standard of minimum +nutrition for man was three times too large?" queried Tesso. + +"Yes. You all were very generous, but I know you attributed the results +in a measure to my own personal peculiarities." + +"You are right to a certain extent," admitted Tesso, "yet, so far as the +experiment went, it proved that your theory was correct." + +"Now I have further evidence to add which is overwhelming," continued +Uncle Peabody, triumphantly. "For the last six months experiments have +been in progress in America, taking as subjects groups of men in +different walks of life--college professors, athletes, and soldiers. +To-day I have received a report of the results. In every instance, on an +intake of less than the recognized minimum standard, the subjects +improved in physical condition and increased their strength efficiency +from twenty-five to one hundred per cent. Think of that, Tesso--from +twenty-five to one hundred per cent.!" + +"I congratulate you heartily, my dear friend," replied the professor, +warmly. "The effects of this will be most far-reaching. I foresaw that +you might demonstrate a new minimum, but I had not expected that an +increased efficiency would accompany it." + +"I wish you would introduce this discovery of yours to the Harvard +football team," remarked Emory, feelingly. "Perhaps it would result in a +few more victories on the right side." + +"It certainly would help matters," assented Uncle Peabody, with +confidence. "All this so-called training is necessary only because of +the abuse which the average man's stomach suffers from its owner. My +theory is that any man, college athlete or otherwise, can keep in +perfect condition all the time, simply by following a few easy rules and +by knowing how to take care of himself. It is just as important to be in +training for his every-day life as for an athletic contest." + +"How did the experiments result with the athletes?" Emory inquired. + +"These records are the most interesting of all," replied Uncle Peabody, +referring to his letter. "This group included track athletes, football +players, the intercollegiate all-around champion, and several +others--all at full training. They had already increased their strength +and endurance efficiency at least twenty-five per cent during the +training period before taking up the new system. In four months, eating +whatever they craved, but using only the amount demanded by their +appetites and giving it careful treatment in the mouth, these athletes +reduced the amount of their food from one-third to one-half, and +increased their strength and endurance records from twenty-five to one +hundred per cent." + +"You ought to feel pretty well satisfied with that," said Emory. + +"I am satisfied," replied Uncle Peabody, "as far as it goes, but I hope +for far more important results than these." + +"Indeed?" queried Professor Tesso. "I shared the thought expressed by +Mr. Emory that your ambition ought now to be satisfied." + +Uncle Peabody was silent for a moment. "I wonder if I dare tell you what +my whole scheme really is," he said, at length. + +"You can't startle me any more than you did with your original +proposition three years ago," encouraged the professor, smiling. "At +that time I could but consider you a physiological heretic." + +"Tesso," said Uncle Peabody, deliberately, "the results of these +experiments confirm me absolutely that I am on the right track. These +revelations on the subject of nutrition are but the spokes of the great +movement I have at heart--or perhaps, more properly speaking, they are +the hub into which the spokes are being fitted. What I really hope and +expect to do is to put education on a physiological basis, and to +demonstrate that it is possible to cultivate progressive +efficiency--that a man of sixty ought to be more powerful, physically +and intellectually, than a man of forty. I can see no reason, logically, +for one to retrograde as rapidly as men do now, but this depends upon +his knowing how to run the human engine intelligently and economically +and thus keeping it always in repair." + +"You astonish me, truly," said Tesso, thoughtfully, "yet I can advance +no argument except faulty human experience to refute your theory. In +fact, you yourself are a living demonstration of its truth." + +"Then there would be no old age?" queried Helen. + +"There would be age just the same," replied Uncle Peabody, "but it would +be ripe and natural age, with only such infirmities as come from +accident; and less of these, since disease would find fewer +opportunities to fasten itself upon its victims. If all the world knew +what some know the death-rate could be cut in two, the average of human +efficiency doubled, and the cost of necessary sustenance halved." + +"Mr. Cartwright," said Professor Tesso, impressively, "if you succeed in +carrying through this great reform of yours, even in part, you will be +the greatest benefactor of mankind the world has known." + +"It is too large a contract to be carried through by any single one, +but my confidence in the final outcome is based on the intelligent +interest which others are taking in my work. I am glad you do not think +the idea chimerical. It encourages me to keep at it with tireless +application." + +"Dare I interrupt with so prosaic a suggestion as a cup of tea?" asked +Helen, as there came a lull in the conversation. + +"Mr. Cartwright has given me so much to think about that a little +relaxation will be grateful," replied the professor. "Perhaps you would +be interested if I gave you an account of the experience which delayed +me this afternoon?" + +"By all means," said Helen, as she prepared the tea. "I am sure it was +an interesting one." + +"You may not know that I have a great love for the romantic," confessed +Professor Tesso. "It seems a far cry from my every-day life, but +sometime I mean to prepare an essay upon the subject of the relation +between science and romance. In fact, I believe them to be very closely +allied." + +"What a clever idea!" cried Helen. "If you ever prove that to be true it +will explain a lot of things." + +"Perhaps I can do it sometime," continued the scientist, complacently, +"and in the mean time I gratify my whim by taking observations whenever +the opportunity offers. To-day I had a most charming illustration, and I +became so much interested that it made me late in coming to you." + +"You certainly have an admirable excuse," assented his hostess. + +"I suspect that the objects of my observation are fellow-patriots of +yours, but I am not certain. The man was a strong, fine-looking fellow +with ability and determination written clearly in his face. He was +evidently a deep student--perhaps a professor in some one of your +American colleges. His companion, the heroine of my story, was a small +woman, but so intense! I think it was her intensity which first +attracted my attention." + +"I am sure they could not have been Americans, professor," interrupted +Helen. "No American woman would display her emotion like that, I am +sure.--Do you take cream, and how many lumps of sugar, please?" + +"You may be right, of course," continued Tesso, giving her the necessary +information. "In fact, my whole story is based upon supposition. +However, as they sat there together, first he would say something to +her, and they would look into each other's faces, and then she would say +something to him, and the operation would be repeated. They spoke +little, but the silent communion of their hearts as they looked at each +other spoke more eloquently than words. It was beautiful to behold. +'There,' I said to myself, 'is a perfect union of well-mated souls. What +a pity that they must ever go out into the world and run the risk of +having something commonplace come between them and their devotion!'" + +"Splendid!" cried Helen. "How I wish I might have been with you!" + +"The whole episode could not have failed to interest you as it did me." +The professor was ingenuously sincere in his narrative. "In these days +one so seldom sees husbands and wives properly matched up. Of course, it +is quite possible that when this pair I speak of are actually married +they will quarrel like cats and dogs. But for the present their devotion +was so natural, so untainted by the world's actualities, that I confess +myself guilty of having deliberately watched them far beyond the bounds +of common decency." + +"You should certainly pursue your investigations further," said Uncle +Peabody. "After having discovered psychological subjects in a man and a +woman perfectly adapted to each other, it would be a pity not to +continue your researches that their perfections might be recorded for +the benefit of others less fortunate." + +"Have you no idea who they were?" asked Emory. + +"Not the slightest. I might have found out, as my friend, whom I went to +see, must know them; but I was aghast when I discovered the hour, and +ran away without so much as leaving my name." + +"Where did all this happen?" asked Helen. + +"At the Laurenziana," replied Tesso. "I went to call on my old friend +Cerini." The professor laughed guiltily. "I hope he never learns the +reason why I failed to keep my appointment!" + +Helen placed her cup abruptly upon the table and stared stonily at +Tesso. Uncle Peabody and Emory glanced quickly at each other in absolute +helplessness. The professor, however, failed to notice the effect of his +words upon his auditors; he was too much amused by the mental picture of +Cerini waiting for him while he, only a few feet away from the +librarian's study, was gratifying his love for the romantic. + +"May I join you?" cried a voice behind Helen, as Inez Thayer approached +unnoticed in the dim light. "Mr. Armstrong went down to the station to +send a cable, so I came back alone." + +"Inez--Miss Thayer, let me present Professor Tesso," said Helen, +mechanically. + +The professor held out his hand and stepped toward her. As the features +of her face became clear a great joy overwhelmed him. + +"My heroine!" he cried, turning to the others. "This is the heroine of +my story! Now, my dear Mr. Cartwright, I can record these perfections +for the benefit of others less fortunate!" + + + + +XVI + + +What happened after Inez arrived, how she herself had acted, and how +Professor Tesso's departure had been accomplished remained a blank to +Helen. All that was clear to her was the pain--the sharp, aching +pain--which came to her with a realization of the true significance of +the story Tesso told. The crisis was coming fast, Helen was conscious of +that; she even wondered if it was not at hand already. + +Throughout the long, sleepless night Helen reviewed the events of the +brief months of her married life. She even began earlier than that, and +recalled those days in Boston when Jack Armstrong had appeared before +her first as an acquaintance, then as a friend--sympathetic, helpful, +congenial--and finally as a suitor for her hand. As she looked back now +the period of friendship was recalled with the greatest happiness. +Perhaps this was because he had then been more thoughtful of her and +less masterful, perhaps it was because the friendship entailed less +responsibility--she could not tell. Even during their engagement she had +laughed at those moods which she had not understood, and he had accepted +her attitude good-naturedly and become himself again. Now she wondered +how she had dared to laugh at him! + +Then her mind dwelt upon the ocean voyage--those days of cloudless +happiness, of unalloyed joy. The visit in Paris, where the sights, +although not new, seemed so different because of the companionship of +her husband. The trip to Florence, the first glimpse of the Villa +Godilombra--which was to be their earliest home together--all came back +to her with vivid distinctness. And the day at Fiesole--that day when +her husband had become a boy again, and had shown her a side of his +nature so unreserved, so natural that she had felt a new world opening +before her, a new happiness, the like of which she had never known. + +"Oh, Jack!" she cried, aloud, "why could not that day at Fiesole have +lasted forever!" + +Still the panorama of reminiscence continued. That evening when De +Peyster, all unconsciously, repeated to her those words of Inez' which +first altered the aspect of her entire world was clearly recalled. +Perhaps she might have prevented the present crisis had she recognized +the danger then and acted upon the information she had unintentionally +received. Perhaps if she had in some way interfered with the work at the +library, and thus prevented the constant companionship of her husband +and Inez, the trouble might have been averted. But she would have +despised herself had she done that. If she could hold her husband's love +only by preventing him from meeting other women her happiness had indeed +never been secure. + +And she had tried to enter into his life, to understand this phase of +his nature which, after all her efforts, had baffled her intentions. She +had gone to the library with him, expecting to apply herself to her +self-appointed task until she succeeded in satisfying even so exacting a +master as she knew her husband to be. He would have been patient with +her; he would have appreciated the love which prompted her efforts, and +all would have been well. But Cerini had interfered. She could hear his +voice now; she could see the expression on his face as he spoke the +words, "By not interfering with this character-building, you, his wife, +will later reap rich returns." Helen laughed bitterly to herself. She +was reaping the rich returns now--rich in sorrow and pain and suffering. + +Perhaps she could have forced the crisis to come when Inez' confession +to De Peyster had been disclosed by Emory. Jack's conduct at that time +had almost brought Helen's resentment to the breaking-point; but what +Inez had told her afterward had made her feel more in sympathy with him, +even though she understood him no better than before. "Your husband is a +god among them all," Inez had said; "you will be so proud of him--so +proud that he belongs to you." She was proud of him, but her pride could +in no way make up to her for the loss of his affection. In her mind's +eye she could see him, with his masterpiece completed, receiving the +world's plaudits, but entirely unmindful of her, his wife, who had stood +aside and made it possible for him to accomplish it all. Oh, it was too +cruel, too unfair! Helen buried her head in the pillows and moaned +piteously. + +She lived over again that one moment in the automobile, that one look +in her husband's face which had given her relief. It had, indeed, been a +brief respite! At that moment she felt that Jack's love for her still +existed, strong and deathless, in the face of temporary abstraction. +With this certainty she could endure in patience whatever sacrifices +were necessary to win him back to herself. But Jack's words to Inez on +the steps, "You are the only one who understands me"--there could be no +mistake there. It was to Inez and not to her that he turned for +understanding and for comfort. + +All through the day she had tried to deceive herself into believing that +even this was the result of some mental illness from which Jack was +suffering, but Tesso had added just the necessary detail to destroy even +the semblance of comfort to which she had so tenaciously clung. "A +perfect union of well-mated souls," the professor had called them. "What +a pity to have something commonplace come between them and their +devotion!" And she was that "commonplace something"! + +At all events, the main point had been definitely settled. For weeks +she had known that Inez loved Jack; now she felt sure that this +affection must be reciprocated. She should have known it sooner, she +told herself. "I have been such a coward," she said, inwardly--"I could +not bear to know for a certainty what I feared to be true." Now the +worst that could happen had happened. Jack would in all probability be +the last one to suggest any break. He would keep on as at present with +his book--perhaps he might extend the work somewhat, in order to be with +Inez a little longer; but when this was completed he would come back to +her again, his obsession would disappear, and outwardly there would be +no change. They would return to Boston and be received by their friends +with glad acclaim, and with congratulations upon the happy months of the +honey-moon passed under such congenial conditions! Jack would be an +exemplary husband, she knew that. With the book completed and away from +the overpowering influences which had controlled him in Florence he +would again be to her, perhaps, all he had ever been. But what an irony +it would be! + +Not for a moment did she accuse him of having married her without +believing that he loved her. Armstrong's sincerity was a characteristic +which could never be denied. He had not known Inez then. Any one could +see that he and Inez were meant for each other; Cerini saw it and said +so; Tesso saw it and said so; she herself felt it without a question. +Her marriage to Jack had been a mistake, an awful mistake. If only he +and Inez had met earlier! Her own life was ruined, but was there any +reason why the tragedy should include the others? If it would help +matters Helen might be selfish enough to let them share the pain, but as +there was nothing to be gained it would be worse than selfish. Jack had +no idea that she was aware of the true conditions. He would oppose her +if she attempted to take it all into her own life, yet this was the only +course to pursue which could minimize the suffering. + +Helen shut her eyes, but sleep was still far distant. The first agony +had not run its course, and it would have been a misdirected mercy to +stem its flow. There was no resentment in Helen's heart, and at this she +herself wondered. Inez was not to blame for loving Jack--it was the most +natural thing in the world. She had tried her best to keep the knowledge +of her affection to herself, and but for the double accident she might +have succeeded. Jack was not to blame. He himself had not known the +strength of the power which drew him back to Florence, nor could he have +foreseen how wholly it would possess him when once he yielded himself to +it. He had not sought Inez; Helen herself had brought them together. He +had found her useful to him in his work; he had found her agreeable as a +friend; all beyond that had been a natural growth which could not and +perhaps should not have been checked. The more the pity of it! + +At first Helen felt that if Jack could return to his old self inwardly +it would be worth the struggle. Then she realized that this could never +be. The intellectual strength of her husband had won Helen's profoundest +admiration, even though it was beyond her understanding. She longed to +be able to enter into it and respond to it as Inez did, yet she felt her +limitations. But her love had increased in its intensity by passing +through the fire. The man she knew now was infinitely stronger and +grander than ever before, and in the light of this new development of +character she questioned whether her affection would not suffer a shock +if Jack were to become again the man she had known in Boston. This new +self was his real self, and the self which he must be in order to +express his own individuality. It was even as Cerini had +said--character-building had been in process, bringing to the surface +qualities which had lain dormant perhaps for centuries; but--and here +was where Cerini's wisdom had been at fault--this development had not +been for her but for another. + +The faint rays of dawn crept in through the lattice windows of Helen's +room before she sank into a restless sleep. A few hours later Armstrong +softly entered the room before leaving for the library and stood for +several moments looking at his wife's face, in which the lines of her +struggle still left their mark. When he returned to the hall he met +Uncle Peabody. + +"May I have a word with you?" Armstrong asked, leading the way to the +library. + +Uncle Peabody acquiesced. + +"Helen is still asleep," said Armstrong by way of preliminaries. "The +girl is overdoing somehow, and she acts very tired. As I looked at her +just now she seemed ten years older than when we left Boston. Don't you +think she is taking on too many of these social functions?" + +Uncle Peabody glanced at Armstrong to make sure that he was quite +sincere. "I am glad that you have noticed it at last," he replied, +quietly. "I have wondered that you did not perceive the change." + +"I must speak to her about it." + +"But you have not hit on the cause of the change yet," continued Uncle +Peabody, suggestively. + +"What else can it be?" + +"I wish I knew you well enough to talk frankly with you, Jack." + +Uncle Peabody was bidding for an opening. + +"I suppose that means that I have done something which has not met with +your approval." + +"That answers my question, Jack. I don't know you well enough, so I will +refrain." + +"Has it to do with Helen?" insisted Armstrong. + +"It has," replied Uncle Peabody. "But what I have to say is not intended +as a reproach. I simply feel that if you have not already discovered +that Helen is a very unhappy girl it is time some one called your +attention to it." + +Armstrong was thoughtful. "Do you mean that Helen is really unhappy, or +simply upset over some specific thing?" + +"I mean that she is suffering, day after day, without relief." + +"You must be wrong," replied Armstrong, decisively. "She was a little +hurt over something I said to her night before last, and I mean to +straighten that out; but if there was anything beyond that, I should +surely have known of it." + +"You are the last one she would speak to about it," Uncle Peabody said, +gravely. + +"Why are you so mysterious? Perhaps you are referring to my work at the +library. Has Helen been talking to you about that?" Armstrong demanded, +suspiciously. + +"Helen has said nothing to me, and does not even know that I have +noticed anything," said Uncle Peabody, emphatically. + +"Which shows you how little there is to your fears," retorted Armstrong, +relieved. + +"I have no wish to prove anything, Jack," continued Uncle Peabody. "The +fact remains, whatever the cause, that Helen is fast getting herself +into a condition where she will be an easy victim for this accursed +Italian malarial fever. I sound the warning note; I can do no more." + +Armstrong was unconvinced. "I never looked upon you as an alarmist +before," he replied, glancing at his watch. "I am late for my work this +morning, but when I return I will question Helen carefully and arrive at +the root of the difficulty." + +"I hope you succeed," replied Uncle Peabody, feelingly. + + * * * * * + +Helen came down-stairs in the afternoon and found the villa deserted. +Instinctively she sought the garden, walking out upon the terrace, where +she leaned against one of the ancient pillars, her gaze extending to the +familiar view of the river and the city beyond. She thought of the +dramas which had been enacted within the walls of the weather-stained +palaces whose roofs identified their location. These had been more +spectacular, and had won their place in history, but she questioned +whether they could have been more tragical than the one she was now +passing through. Surely it was as easy, she told herself, to meet +intrigue and opposition, as to be confronted with the necessity of +decreeing one's own sentence and then carrying it into execution. + +"Oh, Jack!--my husband!" her heart again cried out in its pain. "Why did +you come into my life, since I never belonged in yours, only to give me +a taste of what might have been!" + +Her reveries were interrupted by Annetta's announcement that the +Contessa Morelli was at the door, in her motor-car. Glad of any +diversion, Helen hastened to welcome her, and returned with her to the +garden. + +"I am so glad to find you in," the contessa remarked, with evident +sincerity, as they seated themselves in the shade. "In the first place, +I really wanted to see you, and, in the second, my dear Morelli is in +his most aggravating mood to-day, and we should have come to blows if I +had not run away." + +"How unfortunate that your husband suffers so!" Helen replied, +sympathetically. + +"It certainly is unfortunate for me." + +"And for him, too, I imagine," insisted Helen, smiling. + +The contessa was unwilling to yield the point. "I claim all the +sympathy," she said, with finality. "When a man has had sixty years of +fun in getting the gout, he has no right to complain." + +"Sixty years--" began Helen, in surprise. + +"Yes, my dear," replied the contessa, complacently. "I belong to the +second crop. He was a widower with a title and position, and I had +money; but I must admit that we were both moderately disappointed. +However, marriage is always a disappointment, and I consider myself +fortunate that things are no worse." + +Helen felt the color come to her face as the contessa's words recalled +her own sorrow, which for the moment she had forgotten. The freedom with +which her guest spoke of her personal affairs repelled her, yet there +was a subtle attraction which Helen could not help feeling. + +"You are very pessimistic on the subject of marriage," she ventured. + +"Not at all," the contessa insisted, calmly. "Husbands are selfish +brutes, all of them; but they are absolutely necessary to give one +respectability. Perhaps your husband is an exception, but I doubt it. +Where is he now?" + +"He is at the library," Helen faltered, resenting the contessa's +question, but forced to an answer by the suddenness with which it was +put. + +"At the library?" repeated the contessa, interrogatively. "That is where +he was on the afternoon of the Londi reception. Is he there all the +time?" + +"A good deal of the time," admitted Helen. "He is engaged upon an +important literary work." + +"In which he takes a great interest and you none at all. There you have +it--selfishness, the chief attribute of man!" + +"It does look like it," Helen answered, concluding that she had better +move in the line of the least resistance. "But in this particular case I +am very much interested in my husband's work, even though I am unable to +enter into it." + +"That is not interest," corrected the contessa--"it is sacrifice; and +that is woman's chief attribute." + +"I see you are determined to include my husband in your general +category." + +"I must, because he is a man. But my reason for doing this is to +convince you that it is the thing to be expected. Unless you learn that +lesson early in your married life, my dear, you will be miserably +unhappy. I am certain that the old Persian proverb, 'Blessed is he who +expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed,' was written by a +woman--and a married woman at that." + +Helen's duties at the tea-table aided her to preserve her composure, but +the contessa's matter-of-fact expressions were not reassuring in the +present crisis she was passing through. She felt herself in no position +to combat her theories, yet not to do so seemed a tacit admission of all +which she strove to conceal. + +"I could not live with a man such as you describe," she said, quietly. + +"Oh yes, you could!" The contessa laughed at Helen's innocence and +inexperience. "That is the way we all feel when we are first married; +but we soon get over it--unless there is another woman in the case; then +it is different." + +"What do we do in that case?" asked Helen, looking up at her guest with +a smile. "You may as well prepare me for any emergency." + +"In that case," the contessa replied, seriously, resting her elbow upon +the little table and returning Helen's glance--"in that case we try to +arouse our husband's jealousy; but we must do it discreetly, as they are +not so long-suffering as we." + +"Why not leave one's husband?" + +"You dear, simple little bride!" cried the contessa, indulgently--"and +let him have a clear field? What an original idea! But how our +conversation has run on!" The contessa rose and held out her hand +graciously. "I really must be going now; but I wish you and Mr. +Armstrong would take tea with me--say day after to-morrow. I want to see +this exceptional husband of yours, and if my dear Morelli is not too +impossible I will show him off to you." + +"I doubt if Mr. Armstrong will feel that he can spare the time away from +his book--" began Helen. + +"In that case, then, come alone. Perhaps we can have all the better +visit by ourselves. I shall expect you. Good-bye!" + +Before Helen could make any further remonstrance the contessa had +vanished through the hall-door, and a moment later the car could be +heard moving out of the court-yard. She again leaned against her +favorite pillar, trying to comprehend this new phase of life. Uncle +Peabody found her standing there a few moments later when he returned +from the city. Helen pulled herself together when she saw him coming, +even though she made no attempt to change her position. Mr. Cartwright +longed to comfort her, but something in the girl's face told him that +the time had not yet come. So he took his place beside her, and, passing +his arm about her waist, gently drew her toward him. Helen accepted the +caress with the smile which she had learned to use to conceal the +ruffled surface of her heart. + +"The Contessa Morelli has just been here," she observed. + +"Ah! Did you find her entertaining?" + +"Yes; I think that just expresses it." + +"And--worldly?" + +Helen laughed. "She is certainly worldly. Yet there is something beneath +it all which attracts me." + +"She is a splendid example of a woman who takes the world as she finds +it," Uncle Peabody continued, seriously. "Most women consider their +husbands as material for idealizing. Then they rub their Aladdin's lamp, +set a train of wishing in operation, and expect their selected material +to live up to the ideals. When the material proves unworthy, they lose +faith in everything instead of letting their experience educate their +ideals. The contessa has risen above this." + +"Yet, I judge, her husband has given her plenty of opportunity to lose +her faith," Helen added. + +"Yes," Uncle Peabody acquiesced. He looked affectionately at her, and +fastened behind her ear a little strand of hair which had become loose. +Then he continued, half-jocosely, "The men I know whom I would marry if +I were a woman are so precious few that I would certainly be a bachelor +maid." + +Helen smiled at the expression on Uncle Peabody's face. "Is it not good +to be here together?" she said, simply. "Your visit has meant so much to +me, and now I have been considering a lot of plans which you must help +me to work out. I have been waiting for just the right time, and now I +believe it has come." + +Uncle Peabody was genuinely surprised by Helen's manner as well as by +her words. + +"How much longer are you going to stay in Florence, Helen?" he asked, +pointedly. + +"I don't really know," she replied, frankly. "Our original plan was to +leave early in July; but that is only about a month from now, and I +presume Jack will require a longer time to complete his work." + +"He has not made any definite plans, then?" + +"No, and I hope we shall stay at least as long as that. The things which +I have in mind may require even more time than I suspect." + +"And these things are--" + +"You inquisitive old Uncle Peabody!" Helen took his face between her +hands as she kissed him affectionately. "I will tell you all in good +time, and you shall be the first to know!" + + + + +XVII + + +Helen debated with herself long and seriously regarding the contessa's +invitation. As she had said to Uncle Peabody, her new acquaintance both +repelled and attracted her. Here was a woman who had undoubtedly passed +through far more bitter experiences than she herself would ever be +called upon to endure, yet was able to rise supremely above them and +force from the world that which she still considered to be her just due. +Helen could not help admiring her for this quality, and she tried to +draw from her example some lessons which might be applicable to the +present situation. At first she thought of insisting that her husband +accompany her. She felt certain that he would not refuse her if he +really understood that she expected and wished it, yet she knew without +his telling her how distasteful it would be to him. If they were +planning to live in Florence, it would, of course, be necessary for him +to place himself in evidence, as the contessa had said, for the +"respectability" of it; but as their life in Italy was so nearly +ended--as their life together was so nearly ended--she felt that there +was nothing to be gained in asking him to make this sacrifice. So Helen +decided to return the contessa's call alone. + +Alfonse was waiting for her in the motor-car when Emory drove into the +court-yard. Seeing the machine, he alighted and stepped through the open +door into the hall, where he intercepted her a few moments later when +she came down-stairs. + +"So you are just going out?" he said, by way of greeting. + +"Why, Phil--where did you come from?" + +"Out of that old picture there," he replied, pointing to the wall. +"Don't I look funny without my ruffles and knee-breeches?" + +"Do be serious, Phil," Helen laughed. + +"I am serious. How could I be otherwise when I see you just going out +when I have come all the way up here to have a quiet little chat?" + +Helen was clearly disturbed. "This is really too bad," she said, trying +to think of some plan out of it. "I promised the Contessa Morelli to +take tea with her this afternoon, or I would stay home." + +"The Contessa Morelli!" exclaimed Emory. "That simplifies everything." + +"I don't see how," Helen remarked, frankly. + +"Why, you can take me with you. What could be easier?" + +"That is true," admitted Helen, meditatively. "Why not?" + +"I don't see any 'why not,'" Emory asserted. + +The contessa welcomed Helen with open arms. "But this is not your +husband!" she exclaimed, turning to Emory before Helen had an +opportunity to explain. "I had the pleasure of meeting you at the Londi +reception, did I not?" + +"Mr. Emory came to call just as I was starting out," Helen hastened to +say, "and he begged so hard to be allowed to see you again that I could +not refuse him." + + [Illustration: + "BECAUSE 'BEAUTIFUL PAINTINGS' DO NOT POSSESS + HUSBANDS," REPLIED THE CONTESSA, SAGELY] + +"So you could not pull your learned husband away from his books?" the +contessa queried, after smilingly accepting Emory's presence. + +"I did not try, contessa," Helen answered, promptly. "He has reached a +crisis in his work, and I was unwilling to suggest anything which might +divert his mind." + +"What an exemplary wife you are! If we all treated our husbands with +such consideration they would become even more uncontrollable than at +present. Don't you think so, Mr. Emory?" + +"The suggestion is so impossible that I can think of no reply," Emory +answered. "Mrs. Armstrong is such an unusual wife as to warrant +considering her as an isolated exception." + +Emory spoke with such sincerity that the contessa looked at him with +renewed interest. + +"I knew that to be the case," she said at length, "but I am glad to hear +you say it. One so seldom hears a married woman championed so freely by +a friend of the opposite sex." + +"Mrs. Armstrong needs no champion," Emory hastened to add, feeling +somewhat uncomfortable, for Helen's sake, over the turn the conversation +had taken. "But why should I not be permitted to express my admiration +for you or for her just as I would for a beautiful painting or any other +creation of a lesser artist?" + +"Because 'beautiful paintings' do not have husbands," replied the +contessa, sagely, smiling at Emory's compliment. + +"Since we are speaking of husbands," Helen interrupted, thinking it +time to make her hostess exchange places with her, "you promised me that +I should meet yours this afternoon." + +"Oh no, my dear," the contessa corrected. "I said 'unless he was +impossible,' and that is just what he is to-day. Be thankful that your +husband's infirmity takes the form it does rather than the gout." + +"Tell me something about your villa," suggested Helen, glancing around +her. "All these places have romantic histories, and I am sure that this +is no exception." + +"All one has to do in order to forget the romance with which old Italian +houses are invested is to live in one," the contessa replied. "As a +matter of fact, they contain more rheumatism than romance. This one is +fairly livable now, but I wish you could have seen it when Morelli first +brought me here as a bride! Words can't express it. An old-fashioned +house-cleaning and some good American dollars make the best antidote I +know. The first point of interest I was shown here was the room in which +the previous Contessa Morelli died. My ambitions were along different +lines, so I added some modern improvements, much to the consternation of +my husband and the servants. And the present Contessa Morelli, you may +have observed, is still very much alive." + +By the time the call came to an end Helen and Emory had learned much +regarding Italian life from an American woman's standpoint, but in the +mean time the contessa's active brain had not been idle. The situation +in which she found her new friends puzzled her somewhat and interested +her more. She had discovered the indifferent husband and the passive +wife--two necessary elements in every domestic drama. Emory answered +well enough for the admiring friend of the wife, so all that was +necessary was to find the second woman and the _dramatis personae_ would +be complete. This would explain the husband's indifference and the +wife's passivity. It was an interesting problem, and the contessa saw +definite possibilities in it. + +As Emory and Helen took their leave Phil suggested that they run down to +the library in the motor-car to pick up Armstrong and Miss Thayer. + +"Miss Thayer?" queried the contessa. + +"My friend, whom you must meet," Helen explained. "She has been with us +almost since our arrival, and is assisting Mr. Armstrong in his literary +work." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the contessa, beaming as the completeness of her +intuition came to her. "How very interesting! I shall look forward to +meeting these two other members of your family." + +The machine reached the foot of the hill and slowed down to pass through +the city streets before either Emory or Helen broke the silence, yet it +was evident that their minds found full employment. The call upon the +contessa left them both with an intangibly unpleasant sensation. + +"I am sorry I went with you, Helen," Emory remarked, after the long +pause. + +"I am sorry you did," admitted Helen, frankly, his words fitting in +exactly with her own thoughts. + +"It is too bad that one can't do or say the natural thing without having +it misunderstood. The contessa is determined to find something upon +which she may seize as material for gossip." + +"That is usually not difficult when one tries hard enough," Helen +agreed; "especially when one is living in such an atmosphere as she is." + +"Jack will have to sacrifice himself temporarily or he will leave you +in an uncomfortable position." + +Emory spoke guardedly and watched the effect of his words. + +"He would have come this afternoon if I had asked him," Helen asserted, +confidently, "but his book is nearly finished and he is not in a mood to +be interrupted. I don't want anything to interfere with its completion." + +"It will be a relief, though, to have it finished, won't it?" + +Helen looked up quickly at Emory's question and as quickly dropped her +eyes as they met his. "Why--yes," she admitted, slowly. "I shall be glad +to have him take a little rest. I am sure he has been overdoing." + +The girl felt Emory's questioning glance upon her, and it added to her +discomfiture. + +"Don't you think it is time to let me help you, Helen?" he asked, +pointedly. "You know perfectly well that I feel toward you just as I +always have. No"--he stopped the restraining words upon her lips--"I am +going to say nothing which I ought not to say, nothing which you ought +not to hear. But I want you to be happy, Helen, and sometimes a man can +help. Don't be afraid to ask me; don't let your pride stand between us. +You know that I shall take no advantage of anything you tell me." + +Helen's lips quivered slightly as she listened, but her voice was +natural though restrained. "Something is misleading you, Phil," she +answered, calmly. "Nothing has happened to make it necessary for me to +ask help from any one. If there had I should be glad to have so good a +friend to fall back upon." + +"You are deceiving no one but yourself, Helen." + +"What do you mean?" + +She turned quickly toward him. + +"Every one knows how much you are suffering in spite of your brave +attempt to keep it to yourself. Why won't you let me help you, Helen?" + +"Who is 'every one'?" she demanded. + +"Why--your uncle Peabody and I and--the contessa," stammered Emory. + +"You and Uncle Peabody think I am suffering?" + +"We know it!" + +Helen held her head very high in the air, and spoke in a superior tone +so obviously assumed as a cloak to disguise her real feelings, that +Emory regretted that he had forced the subject upon her; but now it had +gone too far to draw back. + +"If you know that, perhaps you know the cause of it as well?" + +"We do. Jack--" + +"Stop!" Helen commanded. The motor-car turned into the Piazza San +Lorenzo. "If you have anything to say about my husband," she continued, +"you had better say it direct to him." + +"May I?" cried Emory, leaning forward eagerly. He looked at Helen +steadily for a moment, like a runner waiting for the pistol-shot to +release him from his strained position at "set." The girl returned his +look with equal steadiness for only an instant before she read what was +in his mind. Armstrong and Inez were just coming out through the +cloister gates. + +"May I?" Emory repeated. + +"No!" Helen replied, quickly, sinking back against the cushions. + + + + +XVIII + + +Armstrong was most enthusiastic when he returned late the next +afternoon, and Miss Thayer's face reflected his own great satisfaction. +The book was beginning to round into completeness, Cerini had placed +upon it the stamp of his unqualified approval, and the author himself +had reason to feel well pleased with the results of his tireless +application. Helen watched the two as they came out into the garden +where she and Uncle Peabody had been visiting. Yes, they were meant for +each other. Helen could see this more plainly now even than before. Her +husband had lost in weight and in color since he began his work at the +library, but the slighter frame and paler face seemed more in keeping +with the man whom she now knew. Inez had also changed. The individuality +which Helen had always considered a striking characteristic of her +friend while at school and later was now completely merged into that of +the man beside her. They thought alike, talked alike, acted alike. That +was what Jack preferred and what he needed, Helen admitted, and she felt +a certain satisfaction that she was at least strong enough to see and to +admit it. + +"You seem to be very happy to-night, Jack." Helen tried hard to be +natural. "What pleasant thing has happened to you to-day?" + +Armstrong drew up a chair for Inez and seated himself beside Helen. +"Nothing in particular," he replied, "except that I begin to see the end +of my book in sight." + +"I am very glad," Helen answered, simply. + +"Yes, I suppose you are." Armstrong spoke pointedly, looking at Helen +with a curious expression on his face. "Yes, I suppose you are." + +Helen flushed. "I don't mean it as you have taken it, Jack," she +replied, quietly. "It has been a hard strain on you, and I am glad to +know that you can soon get a change. I think you need it." + +Armstrong still looked at Helen intently. "It has been a strain," he +admitted, at length--"a strain on all of us." Then his face lighted up +as of old. "Cerini says the book is a masterpiece, Helen--do you +understand, a masterpiece. He says it is better than he believed it +possible for me to do; in fact, the best work on the period which has +ever been written. Can you wonder that I am happy?" He turned from Helen +to Inez. "And I could never have accomplished it except for the help of +our friend here, who has so unselfishly changed her plans at my request. +You must thank her for me--for both of us." + +"Does it mean that your visit to Florence is about at an end, Jack?" +asked Uncle Peabody. + +"Oh, there is much to be done yet," replied Armstrong. "The first draft +is nearly finished, and the material has all been sifted through; but I +must go over the manuscript once more at least, here in this atmosphere, +before returning to Boston." + +"Even the Old South Church and Bunker Hill Monument will seem very +modern when you get back home, won't they?" + +"Everything will seem modern," Armstrong assented. "I hate to think of +leaving Florence, but there is one thought which makes it easier. Miss +Thayer will, of course, visit us in Boston next winter, and she and I +will then have a chance to do some other work like this together." + +"Why, Mr. Armstrong!" cried Inez, aghast. "I should not think of that +for a moment. Believe me, Helen, this is the first I have heard of it. +It could not be, of course." + +"Why could it not be?" insisted Armstrong, stoutly. + +"You will understand when you take time to think it over," said Inez, +picking up her gloves and starting for the hall. "He does not mean it, +Helen--truly he does not!" + +"I do mean it," urged Armstrong, as Inez disappeared. "I mean every word +of it. She is your most intimate friend, and what could be more natural +than for her to visit us? Why could it not be?" + +Uncle Peabody answered: + +"There are some things in Boston which are as old as anything you will +find in Florence, Jack." + +Armstrong failed to catch the drift of Mr. Cartwright's remarks. + +"You are trying to avoid answering my question," he replied. "To what do +you refer that bears at all upon the present discussion?" + +"Conventions," said Uncle Peabody, calmly. + +"Conventions!" Armstrong repeated the word with emphasis. "You don't +imagine that I am going to let local conventions tell me what to do when +I get home?" + +"I don't imagine anything," replied Uncle Peabody. "I was merely +stating a fact." + +Helen saw the hot retort upon her husband's lips. "I would not discuss +this any more until after dinner," she said, quietly, as she rose. "As +Jack says, it is a perfectly natural thing for Inez to visit me. It is +possible that it can be arranged in some way." + +"Good!" cried Armstrong. "I am glad that there is one sensible person in +the party!" + +He tried to slip his arm around Helen's waist, but she gently avoided +him. + +"Come," she urged, "we shall be late if we don't get ready now. We have +too little time as it is." + + * * * * * + +After dinner Uncle Peabody and Inez announced their intention of +devoting the evening to letter-writing, so Helen and Jack found +themselves alone together in the garden. Helen wrapped her shawl closely +about her, wondering at the chill which came over her when she realized +that she was alone with her husband and that the opportunity for which +she had waited was at hand. She was silent, trying to decide how best to +open the conversation. Her mind was made up at last. If others had begun +to notice the estrangement, it was time that Jack knew of it, and from +her. All doubt, all uncertainty had vanished. + +She looked long at her husband in the dim starlight. He was so near +her, yet how far away he really was! Even he did not realize how far. +She could see the lines of his face lighted by his cigar as he silently +smoked it, his eyes fixed upon the lights of the city beyond. How strong +it was, Helen thought, how strong he was compared with her own weak +self! She wondered what his thoughts were centred upon--whether on his +masterpiece or upon Inez! Upon Inez! That brought her back to the task +before her. + +It was a difficult task; she realized that. There could be no immediate +separation, for that would mean an interruption to the work. She must +stay in Florence until the manuscript was completed or Inez could not +remain. No, there must not be any break between Jack and herself for the +present, or his mind would be taken from his book and another failure +added to the great one in which she felt herself to be the most +concerned. Yet she must make him understand that she was not dull to the +signs which she and the others could but read. To continue to act as if +ignorant of them would be the worst of all. She must remain his wife +until his supreme effort was accomplished, then the living lie could be +ended and the new and separate life begun. + +Armstrong interrupted her reverie before it had quite come to an end. + +"You are not looking like yourself lately, Helen," he said, abruptly. "I +meant to have spoken of it before." + +Helen started at the suddenness of his remark. "Not looking like +myself?" she repeated, mechanically. "How do you mean?" + +"You look tired and worn out." + +"I am getting older, Jack," Helen smiled, sadly. "Perhaps that is what +you have noticed." + +"Nonsense," replied Armstrong. "You used to be so bright and vivacious, +and now you sit around and hardly say a word." + +She could not answer for a moment. "I did not realize that I had become +such poor company, Jack. You have not seemed interested lately in the +things I would naturally talk about, and of course a great deal of your +conversation is upon subjects with which I am unfamiliar." + +"You are quite sure that you are not getting too tired going to all +these social functions?" + +"Quite sure. If you stop to think a moment, these are really the only +entertainment I get. Would you prefer that I stayed here at the villa +alone?" + +"Why, no; unless you are doing too much of that sort of thing. Are you +feeling perfectly well?" + +Helen hardly knew what to reply. "Yes," she said, at length, "I am +feeling perfectly well." + +Armstrong showed his relief. "I told Uncle Peabody he was an alarmist," +he said. + +"What did Uncle Peabody say?" queried Helen, straightening up, Emory's +remarks coming back to her. "I did not know that you and he had been +discussing me." + +"He said that you were unhappy, and fast becoming a fit subject for +Italian malaria. He had better stick to his specialty, and not try to +become a general practitioner." + +"Oh," said Helen, relieved that she had not been anticipated, and +resuming her former position. + +"Of course he was as mistaken about your being unhappy as he was about +your being ill," Armstrong continued, his remark being half assertion +and half question. + +Helen made no response. He waited a moment or two, glancing at her +furtively, and then put his question more directly. + +"You are not unhappy, are you?" + +Helen tried to fathom the motive which underlay this question. At last +Jack had become conscious of the fact that he had hurt her and was +endeavoring to make amends. This was like him; what he had said and done +during the weeks past was not like him. Now something which Uncle +Peabody had said had brought him to himself again. He saw a duty to +perform, and he assumed it conscientiously; but it was an act of duty +rather than an act of love--she felt that in every word he spoke. + +"Yes, Jack," she finally admitted, "I am very unhappy." + +Armstrong was annoyed. "I really thought you were stronger, Helen," he +said, petulantly. "It is all over this library work, I suppose." + +"I am not strong," replied Helen, quietly. "That is where the whole +trouble lies. I am wofully weak, and I only wish that you and I had +discovered it sooner." + +"How would that have helped matters any?" + +"If we had discovered it before we were married it would have helped +matters a great deal," said Helen, with decision. "As we did not do that +we must accept things as they are until we can find a solution of the +problem." + +"I have offered time and again to give up my work; now it has reached a +point where I simply must finish it." + +"Of course you must; I should be the first to oppose you were you to +suggest anything different." + +"Then why are you unhappy? I don't understand you at all." + +"I know you don't, and you understand yourself just as little. The work +you are doing is simply an incident; the results of that work in making +you an entirely different man is the main point. Do you not feel that +yourself?" + +"So that is it," replied Armstrong. "The work has made a different man +of me, and you object to the change." + +"No, it is not the change which has made me unhappy. During these weeks +you have become infinitely bigger and stronger and grander, and I admire +you just that much the more." + +"Then why are you unhappy?" + +"Because"--Helen choked down a little sob--"because, as you say, I am so +weak. Because it has left me just that much behind, and has shown me how +little suited I am to be your wife." + +"How you do magnify things!" exclaimed Armstrong. "It is not an uncommon +thing for a husband to have interests apart from his wife; it is no +reflection on the wife." + +"But how much better--how much more helpful--if the husband and the wife +can share the same interests?" + +"Granted. But why suggest a modern miracle?" + +"It has shown me another thing," Helen continued, fearful lest she +should be diverted from her main theme. "Inez is already much more to +you than I." + +Armstrong sprang to his feet, with difficulty holding back the angry +words upon his lips. "This is going too far, Helen," he said, with +forced calm. "Do you realize that you are actually making an +accusation?" + +Helen regarded him calmly but sadly. "I am making no accusation," she +said, quietly. "I believe in your loyalty to me and in your sense of +what is right, but the fact remains. Inez loves you, and has loved you +almost since the day she arrived. Is it possible that you are insensible +to this?" + +"You must stop!" expostulated Armstrong. "You cannot realize what you +are saying!" + +"Do you remember what she told Ferdy De Peyster--'I love him better than +my life'? Do you remember the scene at the table when Phil Emory spoke +of it and her reply? Have you been with her day after day without +discovering that she worships the very ground you walk on?" + +"It would be useless to try to answer you, Helen," Armstrong replied, +forcefully. "The most generous view I can take of what you say is to +attribute it to a jealousy as unfounded as it is unworthy of you." + +"Ah, Jack, if you only knew!" Helen looked at him reproachfully. "There +is no jealousy in my heart even now, my husband, nothing but the +greatest admiration and the deepest love. Sometime you will understand. +You have a great career before you--greater, perhaps, than I can +realize, because I know of your work only through others. This career is +one which I must not injure, which I shall not limit. Inez can help you +in attaining it, and it is right that she should do so." + +Armstrong's curiosity gained the better of his resentment. "What do you +propose to do to bring all this about?" he asked, incredulously. + +"Whatever may be necessary," Helen replied, looking at him firmly, "even +though it breaks my heart." + +"Surely you have not suggested any of this nonsense to Miss Thayer?" +Armstrong asked, suddenly. + +"I have not talked with her about it," replied Helen, quietly. + +"That is to be placed to your credit, at all events. Miss Thayer has no +more sentiment toward me of the kind you suggest than if she had never +met me. She is the best kind of a friend and a most valuable assistant, +but that is all. My feelings toward her are exactly the same--no more, +no less. I beg of you not to let anything so absurdly improbable stand +between us now or later. Come, we had better go in." + +"Don't wait for me," Helen answered, wearily. "I will stay here a while +longer. The cool air feels very grateful to-night." + +Armstrong left her there, alone with the stars and her thoughts. The +break was made. They had stood at the parting of the ways, and Helen had +pointed out to him the path which she knew she could not travel with +him. He, with all his strength of mind, had left her without realizing +what had happened. Helen had not expected him to understand her +motive--that must come later--but she had thought that he would at least +appreciate what she had said. Perhaps it was better so. She had known +that he would disclaim the affection which she felt he could but +entertain toward Inez; she was certain that he himself did not yet +appreciate how firmly installed his "sister worker" had become in his +heart. But Helen was no less convinced that she was right. Jack would +realize it soon enough, and then he would know what she had really done +to make it easier for him. Perhaps this was better, too. + +The storm was over, and Helen remained as the weather-beaten evidence +that it had taken place. Exhausted both in mind and body, she lay back +in her chair, with her eyes wide open, her thoughts rushing madly to and +fro seeking a new anchorage. She must keep her strength for the ordeal +yet before her. She must play her part through to the end without +wavering, or what she had already endured would be of no avail. So at +last she bade good-night to the stars which had been her silent +companions and entered the house. Mechanically she fastened the veranda +shutters and went up-stairs to her room, closing the door to the world +outside, with which she felt she must become acquainted anew as she +pursued her chosen path--alone. + + + + +XIX + + +The contessa found herself eager to continue her inquiries along the new +lines which had so clearly indicated themselves during the conversation +with Mrs. Armstrong and Emory. This desire was by no means malicious, +for those very attributes which attracted Helen to her would have +contradicted anything so really reprehensible, even as a +counter-irritant. In the contessa's life, filled as it was with _ennui_ +in spite of her heroic efforts to enliven it with excitement, gossip and +a bit of scandal acted as agreeable and much-needed stimulants. She may +never have put this thought into words any more than the man does who +depends upon his modest tipple to give zest to his daily routine; yet, +like him, she found her dependence upon her stimulant growing slowly yet +steadily as the days advanced and the "dear Morelli" became more and +more "impossible." In the present instance the interval since the last +spicy episode had been longer than usual, and the contessa felt a thrill +of enthusiastic delight replace the dull apathy which she had lately +experienced, even at the suggestion of the conditions as she thought she +saw them. It was a problem which offered her the joy of solution rather +than merely a curiosity to learn more of the various factors which +entered into it. + +She liked Helen from the first moment of their meeting. America often +seemed far away to the contessa, and her new acquaintance brought it +nearer to her; but beyond this Helen proved in herself to be more than +ordinarily interesting. The contessa had known women as beautiful as +Mrs. Armstrong, she had known women who carried themselves with equal +self-confidence and independence; but never had she seen these combined +with such lofty ideals actually maintained. Her early impression that +Helen's idealism was the result of innocence was soon corrected. In the +school of experience there are taught two branches in which every clever +woman of the world must perfect herself--character-reading and the +gentle art of self-defence; both are absolutely essential to her +success. Men underestimate their importance, and thus develop them to a +lesser degree; as a result, the woman's intuitive reading of character +is as much more delicate and subtle as is her practise of self-defence, +and to a similar extent more effective. Amelie was a medal pupil in both +these branches, and her instinctive exercise of the first told her that +she had discovered an unusual personality among conditions which under +ordinary circumstances would work out along but one line. This solution +was not in keeping with what she had read in Helen's character, and she +wondered how the conditions themselves had come to exist. The contessa +hummed cheerily to herself as she moved about the villa the next +morning, and the servants took it for granted that their master's malady +had taken a more decided turn for the worse. + +In the afternoon the contessa's motor-car drew up before the entrance +to the Laurentian Library. The custodian at the gate took her card, and +presently returned announcing that the librarian was in his study. The +name of Morelli was well known to Cerini, who had assisted the count +upon several occasions before his marriage in disposing of some of the +rare volumes which had once been a part of his grandfather's splendid +collection. The librarian had even casually met the new contessa once or +twice, but this was the first time she had honored him with a call, and +he wondered what her errand might be. Possibly it was her desire to +dispose of other volumes; perhaps it was to protest against further +despoliation; at all events he would be guarded in his conversation +until her object was disclosed. + +"Welcome to the halls of the Medici!" exclaimed Cerini, cordially, +rising to greet his visitor as she appeared in the doorway. + +The contessa smiled so radiantly in acknowledging his salutation that +the librarian was convinced that his first hypothesis must be correct. +"You are surprised to see me," she remarked, seating herself with +deliberation and looking across at her host with a friendly air. "You +may as well admit it, for I can read it in your face." + +"Both surprised and pleased, contessa," Cerini answered, maintaining his +guarded attitude. + +"Your surprise should be that I have not been here before," Amelie +continued. + +"Ah!" The old man held up his hand with a deprecatory gesture. "You +society women have so much to divert you otherwise that I could scarcely +expect, even with the wonderful books I have here, to prove a magnet +sufficiently strong to draw you away from your customary pursuits. And +your husband has so many splendid volumes in your own library that these +here can hardly prove a novelty." + +"It is about these volumes that I came to see you." + +Cerini smiled sagely, feeling pleased at his intuition. + +"Yes, we have some splendid old volumes, as you say," the contessa +continued. "I have looked them all over and have tried to study them, +but beyond my admiration for their beauty I must admit that I can't make +much out of them." + +"Then you are really interested in the books themselves!" exclaimed the +librarian, his pleasure increasing with the prospect of securing a new +convert. "This is delightful!" + +"Of course." The contessa raised her eyebrows with well-feigned +surprise. She was entirely satisfied with her progress thus far. "But I +don't need to tell you that my interest is not a very intelligent one. I +tried to get Morelli to tell me something about them once, but he +doesn't know a book of hours from a missal, so I promised myself the +pleasure of learning from you, if you were willing to teach me. Are +you?" + +The contessa was fond of punctuating her conversation with sharp +interrogations, but in the present instance the expression upon Cerini's +face made any question unnecessary. + +"This is the happiest year I have known since I first made my home +among these books, my daughter," he replied, with much feeling. "For a +long time I felt as a miser must feel surrounded by his gold, far more +in quantity than he can ever count, yet separated by its overwhelming +value from the world outside. My loneliness came, of course, from +another cause--I craved the opportunity to share my treasures, yet this +opportunity came but rarely. Patiently have I waited, marvelling that so +few should even know that these treasures exist, and a lesser number +should care to partake of what is offered to them freely in as large +quantities as they are able to carry away. Year by year I have watched +the number increase, I have seen the signs of a veritable renaissance; +and as one after another comes to me, as you have this afternoon, my +heart fills with an unspeakable joy." + +The sincerity of the old man penetrated through even the contessa's +worldly armor, but the problem she had set herself to solve was too +fascinating to be laid aside. The librarian need never know how much +less interest she felt in books than in her present undertaking. + +"So this year has crowned your labors," she replied, sympathetically. "I +do not wonder that you feel gratified! You have had a greater number of +converts, you say, most of whom, I presume, come from the libraries and +universities near by." + +"Not at all!" contradicted Cerini, eagerly. "They come from England, +from France, from Germany--and even from your own far-off country, +contessa." + +"Indeed!" Amelie smiled at the air of triumph with which the librarian +uttered the last words. "From America? Have my countrymen really +discovered what rich mines of learning are here in Florence?" + +Cerini nodded his head and drew his chair closer to hers. "At this very +moment there are two Americans working here in the library who have so +assimilated the learning of the past that they have become a part of it +themselves. I have had many students here during all these years, but +never any one who was able so completely to carry out my ideas of modern +intellectual expression. What they have done and are doing has given me +courage to believe that I am not so much of a visionary as my colleagues +think. If by my influence I can produce two such modern humanists my +labors will not have been in vain." + +"Are these two wonderful men from some library or university in +America?" the contessa asked, with apparent innocence. + +"They are not," replied the librarian, with emphasis. "If they were they +would have come here, as the others have, with preconceived ideas which +centuries could not break down. One of them is a young advocate from +Boston, and the other--you will scarcely believe me--is a young woman." + +"Really?" The contessa manifested an interest not wholly assumed. "A +young woman, you say--his wife, perhaps?" + +"No, simply a friend." + +"Oh!" Amelie smiled knowingly. "Then perhaps soon to be his wife?" + +"You are wrong again, contessa," replied Cerini. "The man is already +married, so that could hardly be the case." + +"And his wife makes no objections? Come, come, monsignore, that would +not be human." + +"His wife is as remarkable in her way as he is in his," the old man +answered, with confidence. "We have discussed the matter, and she +understands the importance of allowing the work to go on." + +"Then she has raised some objections? Do tell me that she has or I shall +find it difficult to believe your story." + +"She did suggest that she would have liked to be able to do this work +with her husband, but that was quite out of the question, and she saw it +just as I did." + +"How very, very interesting!" the contessa remarked, more to herself +than to him. "I wish I might see them at work." The librarian hesitated, +and Amelie knew that hesitation is consent if promptly followed up. "I +will promise not to disturb them," she urged. + +"I should not wish them to know that I was exhibiting them to my +friends," Cerini said, doubtfully. "Still, I can see no harm unless we +disturb them." + +"Then come!" Amelie exclaimed, rising quickly lest the old man change +his mind. "I will be as still as a mouse." + +Cerini led the way to the little alcove which Armstrong and Inez had +come to regard as a part of themselves. Motioning to the contessa, he +pointed out a place beside an ancient book-shelf where she could observe +without herself being seen. Amelie studied the faces before her +carefully. Armstrong was so seated that only his profile was visible, +but Inez sat so squarely in front of her that had she not been so +engrossed in her labors she could hardly have avoided seeing the +contessa. It was the girl's face which first held Amelie's attention. In +it she read all that Inez had fought so hard to conceal. She had found +the second woman! It was not the usual type, she told herself. The +passionate devotion to its given object was there, but it was evidently +absolutely controlled by the intellectual. How much more interesting, +the contessa thought, but how much more dangerous! + +Then she turned her attention to Armstrong. He was younger than she had +expected and his personality far more attractive. The height of his +forehead, the depth of his eye, the strength of his mouth were all +carefully noted. The contessa watched every movement, every change in +the expression, with the keenest delight. They were an interesting pair, +she admitted, but even her astuteness, she was forced to confess, was +unequal to the task of understanding their relations without further +study. The problem was as new as it was fascinating, and the contessa +had no misgivings over her little plot, which had worked out so +successfully. + +She followed the librarian quietly back to his study, where she made an +appointment for him to examine with her the Morelli collection and to +point out to her the merits of the various volumes. She expressed her +thanks for the charming afternoon he had given her, but through it all, +and even after she returned to her villa, the faces of Armstrong and +Inez were still before her. Beneath that abstraction which the man's +face and manner so clearly portrayed, was there a response to the +woman's passionate adoration? Was he capable of affection, or had the +intellectual so far claimed the ascendency that the physical had, for +the time being at least, become so subdued as practically to be +eliminated? Where did the wife, who had so attracted her, come in? These +were some of the questions over which the contessa pondered. The problem +was more complex than she anticipated, and she found herself even more +determined to carry it through to a solution. + + + + +XX + + +A week passed by with little outward change at the Villa Godilombra. For +a day or two after their interview in the garden Armstrong watched his +wife carefully, but as there was apparently no difference in her +attitude toward him or toward Miss Thayer he decided that what she had +said at that time was the result merely of a momentary mood which had +since passed away. He also watched Miss Thayer, to satisfy himself in +regard to the monstrous suggestion Helen had made that she was in love +with him, and became convinced that his own explanation of her feelings +toward him was correct. Having settled these two important matters to +his entire satisfaction, he promptly discarded them from his mind and +devoted himself to the single purpose of completing his work. + +"Once let me get this finished," he said to himself, "and Helen will see +that there is nothing between us." + +As a matter of fact, Inez had not been pleased with Armstrong's +suggestion to Helen that she should take up with him a similar kind of +work in Boston. For the first time since she had known him he had done +something which annoyed her. She realized better than any one else the +absorption which held him subject to a different code of conventions, +but this did not give him a right to assume that she would accept such +an arrangement, without at least raising the question with her. Helen +and Mr. Cartwright could but think that the matter had already been +discussed between them, and it placed her in a false light at a time +when she felt that her position was sufficiently untenable without this +unfair and unnecessary addition. She also realized, as Armstrong +apparently did not even after Uncle Peabody's pointed remarks, that this +daily companionship would be entirely impossible. + +During those few days, therefore, when Armstrong was observing her, she +was in a mood quite at variance with what Helen had described; but what +had wounded her in one respect proved to be a salve in another. Had +Armstrong been conscious of her affection for him, or had he himself +reciprocated it, the request would never have been made. She was quite +safe, therefore, to continue on until the book was finished, and the +danger lay, as she had told her conscience, only with herself. And even +with this annoyance, which, after all, was but an incident, she felt it +to be her only happiness to stay beside him as long as she could. She +dreaded the time when the break must come, for she saw no light beyond +that point. + +Helen had herself well in hand. She was conscious of Jack's scrutiny, +and was also conscious of the relaxing of his watchfulness. She saw his +new interest in Inez, and was equally conscious of her friend's unusual +frame of mind. Everything seemed to Helen to be intensified to such a +degree that she could read all that was passing in the minds of those +about her, and she wondered if some new power had been given her to make +her test the harder. She had already felt the force of the blow; the +others had it still before them. And it would be a blow, at least to +Jack, she was sure--not so hard a one as in her own case, for after the +pain of the break there was for him happiness and serenity; but he had +cared for her, and when he once came to a realization of what must be he +would suffer, too. This was her only consolation. + +Naturally, Helen turned to Uncle Peabody. Now that all was settled, it +was better that he should know from her how matters stood rather than +surmise as he and Emory had done; and besides this, the burden had +become too heavy to be borne alone. She waited a few days for the right +opportunity, which came during a morning walk along the ancient road +above the villa which led to the highest point of Settignano. They had +left the frequented part of the path behind them, and were strolling +among the rocks and trees of the little plateau commanding a view of the +panorama on either side. + +"I wish I could find out from Jack how much longer you are to remain in +Florence," Uncle Peabody said. "I really need to get back to my work." + +"Not yet," exclaimed Helen, quickly. "Don't go yet. I need you so much!" + +Uncle Peabody regarded his niece critically. There was a new note in her +voice, and it pained him. + +"It won't be much longer, uncle," Helen continued. "I need you here, and +I may want you to go back home with me." + +"I could not do that, Helen; but of course I will stay here as long as +you really need me." + +"But you would go back with me if I needed that, too, would you not?" +insisted Helen. + +"If you needed me, yes; but I can't imagine any such necessity." + +"It would be so hard to go home alone." + +Helen's voice sank almost to a whisper. + +"Alone?" echoed Uncle Peabody. "Is Jack going to stay over here and send +you back?" + +"I don't know what Jack is going to do, but I shall return home as soon +as his book is completed; and unless you go with me I shall go alone." + +Uncle Peabody understood. "My dear, dear child," he said, taking her +hand in his and pressing it sympathetically. + +"Don't, please." Helen gently withdrew her hand. "If you do that I shall +become completely unnerved. Let us return to the villa; I really want to +talk with you about it." + +The short walk home was accomplished in silence. As they entered the +hallway Uncle Peabody was the first to speak. "Where shall we go?" he +asked. + +"To my 'snuggery,'" Helen answered. "There we are sure not to be +interrupted." + +"Now tell me all about it," he urged, as they seated themselves. + +"I imagine you know a good deal about the situation without my telling +you," began Helen, bravely; "but I want you to know the whole story. +Otherwise you can't help me, and without your aid I am absolutely +alone." + +"You know well that you can depend upon that," he interrupted. + +Helen moved nearer and passed her hand through his arm. "We have made a +horrible mistake, Jack and I," she said. "We are not at all suited to +each other, and never should have married." + +"That is a pretty serious statement," replied Uncle Peabody. + +"It is," assented Helen; "but the fact itself is even more serious. Tell +me, do you not see that Jack is a very different man from the one you +first met here?" + +"Yes," he replied. "There can be no question about that." + +"If this change was but a passing mood it would not be so serious," +continued Helen, "but the Jack I know now is the real Jack, and as such +our interests are entirely apart." + +"But all this may correct itself," suggested Uncle Peabody. "Why not get +him away from the influences which have produced this change and see if +that will not straighten matters out?" + +Helen was thoughtful for a moment. "That would never do," she said, at +length. "You see, there is another consideration which enters in. Inez +and Jack are in love with each other." + +"Has Jack admitted this?" demanded Uncle Peabody. + +Helen smiled sadly. "No; he would never admit it, even if he knew it to +be true. At present his affection is wholly centered upon his book, and +he himself has no real conception of how matters stand." + +"Then why do you feel so certain? I think you are right about Miss +Thayer, but I have seen nothing to criticise in Jack's conduct except +this complete subjugation to his work." + +"I have been watching it for weeks, uncle, and I know that I am right. +The old Jack--the Jack I married--found in me the response he craved; +but to the new Jack--the real Jack--I can give nothing. Inez is his +counterpart; Inez is the woman who can talk his language and live his +life--not I." + +"There is no reason why you could not do this if he gave you the +chance," he asserted. + +"At first it was my fault that I did not make the effort when he did +give me the chance. Then I tried to enter into it--you remember the day +I went to the library--but it was too late. Cerini showed me how +hopeless it was. Then you remember Professor Tesso's story. He was +right; they are absolutely suited to each other. It is useless to fight +against it and thus increase the misery." + +"If you are not going to fight against it, what are you going to do?" + +"I am going to right the wrong in the only way which remains," replied +Helen, firmly. + +"I don't see it yet." Uncle Peabody showed his perplexity. "What are you +going to do?" + +"Jack and I must be separated just as soon as it can be arranged." + +Uncle Peabody placed his hands upon her shoulders and looked into her +eyes. With all the advance signals of the storm which he had noted he +was unprepared for this climax. "Surely that point has not yet arrived, +Helen," he said, slowly. "'Those whom God hath joined together--'" + +"That is just the point," she interrupted. "Those whom God joins +together are those who are suited to each other. When it becomes evident +that two people have been married who are unsuited, it is also evident +that God never joined them together, and that they ought not to stay +together. That is the case with Jack and me." + +"Have you told Jack your decision?" + +"Not in so many words, but in substance. He does not appreciate the +situation at all, and he won't until the book is finished." + +"Why don't you go home for a while and see what happens?" + +"If I went away now Inez would have to leave, and that would interrupt +the work." + +"I can't follow you, Helen. One moment you speak of the misery this work +has brought to you, and the next moment you can't do something because +it will interfere with the very work which you would like to stop." + +"It seems to be my fate not to be able to make myself understood," Helen +replied, wearily. "Let me try again. I have no desire to stop the work. +It is a necessary part of Jack's development, and it will open up a +great future for him." + +"But to continue this means to continue the intimacy between him and +Miss Thayer," insisted Uncle Peabody. + +"I have no desire to stop that, either." Helen was calm and firm in her +replies. "It would be no satisfaction to hold Jack to me when I know +perfectly well that duty and marriage vows remain as the only ties. It +breaks my heart that all this has happened, but neither the work itself +nor even Inez is responsible. The other side of Jack was like an +undeveloped negative--these are simply the mediums which have brought +out the picture which was already there." + +"You are not in a condition to consider this matter as you should, +Helen," Uncle Peabody replied, hardly knowing what to say. "The whole +affair has been preying on your mind for so long that you are arriving +at conclusions which may or may not be justified. Your very calmness +shows that you do not appreciate the seriousness of your suggestions." + +Helen looked at Uncle Peabody reproachfully. "Don't make me think that +men are wilfully obtuse," she said. "When I talked it over with Jack he +called it jealousy; now you think I lack an appreciation of the +seriousness of it all!" Helen paused for a moment and closed her eyes. +When she spoke again all the intensity of her nature burst forth. "Can +you not see beneath this calmness the effort I am making to do my duty?" +she asked, in a low, tense voice. "Can you not see my heart burned to +ashes by the fire it has passed through? Look at me, uncle. Jack says I +seem ten years older--twenty would be nearer the truth. Do these changes +come to those who fail to appreciate what they are doing? It is not that +I don't realize; it is because I can't forget." + +"Don't misunderstand me, child," Uncle Peabody hastened to say, appalled +by the effect of his words. "My own heart has bled for you all these +weeks, and I would be the last to add another burden to the load you +bear. It is hard to suffer, but sometimes I think it is almost as hard +to see those one loves passing through an ordeal which he is powerless +to lighten. I don't want you to take a step which will plunge you into +deeper sorrow, that is all. You may be right, but I pray God that you +are wrong. Now let me help you, if I can." + +Helen smiled through the mist before her eyes. "You can help me," she +said, "just by being your own dear self during these hard weeks to come. +Stay here until it is over, and then take me home, where you can show me +how to use the years I see before me." Helen buried her face in her +hands. "Oh, those years!" she cried; "how can I endure them?" + +"Come, come, Helen," urged Uncle Peabody, kindly, "I can't believe that +the world has all gone wrong, as you think it has. Let us take one step +at a time, and see if together we can't find the sun shining through the +cypress-trees. Tell me just what you propose to do." + +"The programme is a simple one," Helen answered. "Outwardly there will +be no change. I shall make Jack's home as attractive as possible to him +while we share it together. Inez is my guest, and will be welcome as +long as I am here. Other than this it will be as if we all were +visitors. Jack will notice no difference while his work lasts. Then when +it is completed you and I will go back home. Jack may stay here or +return, as he chooses. Inez will decide her own course. Then Jack will +at last understand that I meant what I said--that I saw that I stood +in the way of his future and stepped aside." + +"Do you imagine that he will permit this when once he understands?" +asked Uncle Peabody. + +"He will try to prevent it," assented Helen. "He will realize that he +has neglected me and he will want to atone, but this will be from a +sense of duty, even though he does not know it. The actual break will be +a blow to him, but then he will turn to Inez and will find that I +understood him better than he did himself." + +"But he is counting on continuing this work in Boston next winter. He +spoke of it again yesterday, and said how splendid it was of you to make +it possible for Miss Thayer to work there with him." + +Helen rose and stepped out into the garden, looking far away into the +distance. Then she turned toward him. + +"I am making it possible, am I not?" she said, simply. + +And the lump in Uncle Peabody's throat told him that he understood at +last. + + + + +XXI + + +The evening had arrived for the reception at Villa Godilombra by which +Helen was to acknowledge the many social obligations laid upon her by +her friends in Florence. In the details of preparation she had found +temporary relief from her ever-present burden, with Uncle Peabody +assuming the role of general adviser, comforter, and prop. Together they +had worked out the list of guests; together they had planned the many +little surprises which should make the event unique. Much to old +Giuseppe's disgust, his own flowers were found to be inadequate, and to +his camellias, lilies, oleanders, and roses was added a profusion of +those rare orchids which bear witness that the City of Flowers is well +named. Emory was also pressed into service as the day drew near, and his +energy was untiring in carrying out the ideas of his superior officers +and in suggesting original ones of his own. + +Armstrong had expressed his willingness to co-operate, but was +obviously relieved to find his services unnecessary. He had reached a +crisis in his work, he explained, and if he really was not needed it +would hasten the conclusion of his labors if they might be uninterrupted +at this particular point. Inez had also offered her aid, but Armstrong +insisted that she could not be spared unless her presence at the villa +was absolutely demanded. So the work upon the masterpiece had proceeded +without a break, while little by little the plans for the reception +matured. + +The novelty of the preparations consisted principally in the electrical +and the floral displays. Uncle Peabody succeeded in having a number of +wires run from the trolley-line into the villa and the garden, leaving +Emory to plan an arrangement of lights which did credit to the limited +number of electrical courses which his college curriculum had contained. +The grotto was lighted by fascinating little incandescent lamps, which +shed their rays dimly through the guarding cypresses but full upon the +varicolored shells and stones. Along the top of the retaining wall, and +scattered here and there at uneven distances and heights among the trees +and the statues, the lights looked like a swarm of magnificent +fire-flies resting, for the time, wherever they happened to alight. But +Emory's _piece de resistance_ was the fountain, beneath the spray of +which he had helped the electrician to fashion a brilliant fleur-de-lis +in compliment to the city of their adoption. + +This final triumph was brought to a successful conclusion almost +simultaneously with the cessation of Helen's labors in transforming the +dining-room, the hallway, and the verandas into veritable flower arbors. +Old Giuseppe and the florist's men had accomplished wonders under +Helen's guidance, and they approved the final result as enthusiastically +as they had opposed the scheme at first, when Helen had insisted upon a +departure from the conventional "set pieces" which they tried to urge +upon her. Realizing that the time was approaching for the light repast, +and glad of a respite, Helen wandered out to the garden where Emory and +Uncle Peabody, hand in hand, were executing an hilarious dance around +the fountain. + +"What in the world--" began Helen, in amazement. + +"It is great, is it not, Mr. Cartwright?" cried Emory, ceasing his +evolutions and turning to Uncle Peabody. "This settles it; I am going +home on the next steamer and set myself up as an electrical +engineer--specialty, decoration of Italian gardens. Watch, Helen--I will +turn on the lights." + +In an instant the flitting insects were flickering throughout the +garden, and the water of the fountain became a living flame. Helen's +first exclamation of delight was interrupted by Giuseppe's groan of +terror as the old gardener hastily retreated to the house, crossing +himself and praying for divine protection against the magic of the evil +one which had entered and taken possession of his very domain. The +suspicion with which he had viewed the labors of the electricians during +the past few days was now fully justified, and he saw his work of thirty +years in danger of destruction by the conflagration which he believed +must inevitably follow. + +"Splendid, Phil!" cried Helen, when Giuseppe was at last quieted. "I had +no idea you were carrying out so grand a scheme. What should I have done +without you?" + +"It was Mr. Cartwright's idea, you know, Helen," insisted Emory. + +"To get the light up here--not the arrangement, which is all to your +credit," Uncle Peabody hastened to add. + +"I owe everything to both of you," said Helen, holding out a hand to +each. "Now I want to see every light." Slowly they walked about the +garden inspecting the illumination. "It is perfect," exclaimed Helen. "I +can't tell you how pleased I am with it. I ought to be jealous that you +have so outdone me in your part of the decoration, but I am really proud +of you!" + +As they were taking an admiring view of the floral arrangements Jack and +Inez rode up. Emory started to suggest to them a view of the garden, but +a glance from Helen prevented. + +"Save it for a surprise, Phil," she whispered. "They have no idea of +what you have done." + +It was nearly ten o'clock when the first guests arrived, and for an hour +Helen, Jack, and Uncle Peabody greeted the brilliant gathering as it +assembled. To most of them Armstrong was a complete stranger, and it was +quite evident that many of those who had known and admired Helen and Mr. +Cartwright possessed no little curiosity concerning this man of whom so +little had been seen. + +"Then there really is a Mr. Armstrong, after all," exclaimed the +Marchesa Castellani, smiling blandly as Helen presented him. "We had +almost come to look upon you as one of those American--what shall we +say?--conceits." + +The color came to Helen's face, but before she could reply Cerini +pressed forward from behind. + +"Signor Armstrong has been my guest these weeks, marchesa, inhaling the +wisdom of the past instead of the sweeter but more transitory grandeur +of Florentine society. This has perhaps been his loss, and yours; but, +with his great work nearly ready for the press, dare we say that the +world will not be the richer for the sacrifice?" + +"I shall not be the one to dare," replied the marchesa, again smiling +and passing on to make room for others behind her. + +Cerini watched his opportunity for another word with Helen. "I came +to-night," he said, "expressly to tell you that your reward is near at +hand. Another week and your husband's labors will be completed. I have +thought often of our conversation, and of your patience; but the result +of my advice has been more far-reaching even than I thought. The +character-building has extended beyond him and his 'sister-worker'--it +has reached you as well." + +The arrival of new guests fortunately delayed the necessity of immediate +reply, but it also gave Cerini an opportunity to watch the effect of his +words. The old man's voice softened as he continued: + +"You have suffered, my daughter; I did not know till now how much. Yet +suffering is essential. George Eliot was a woman, and she knew a woman's +heart when she wrote, 'Deep, unspeakable suffering is a baptism, a +regeneration--the initiation into a new state.' Your initiation is +passed, my daughter, and your enjoyment of the new state is near at +hand. Do you not see now how far-reaching has been the influence?" + +"Yes," Helen replied, with a tremor in her voice; "and this time I think +I may say that it has been more far-reaching than even you realize." + +Cerini's eyes sought hers searchingly. He had already seen more than she +had intended. + +"Then the book is really coming to its completion?" she continued, +calmly. "And you feel well satisfied with my husband's work?" + +"It is superb; it is magnificent," cried Cerini, enthusiastically. "He +has produced a work which is without an equal in the veracity of its +portrayal of the period and in the insight which he has shown in dealing +with the characters themselves. It will make your husband famous." + +"We shall be very proud of him, shall we not?" replied Helen, forcing a +smile. "And he will owe so much to you for the help and the inspiration +you have given him." + +"And also to you, my daughter," added the librarian, meaningly. + +Emory approached as Cerini left her side. "Every one is in the garden +now, Helen. May I take you there?" + +Helen glanced around for her husband, and saw him somewhat apart from +the other guests engaged in a conversation with the Contessa Morelli. +Unconsciously her mind went back to what the contessa had said to her +about marriage in general and about her husband in particular, and she +wondered what her new friend thought of him, now that they had actually +met. + +"Jack has his hands full for the present," Emory remarked, noting her +glance. "You need not worry about him. By Jove, Helen, you are simply +stunning to-night!" he continued, in a low voice, as they strolled +across the veranda. "I have been anxious about you, but now you are +yourself again. You should always wear white." + +Helen made no answer. She was recalling to herself the fact that +to-night, for the first time, Jack had made no comment upon her +appearance, as he had always done before; yet she had tried to wear the +very things which he preferred. After all, she thought, it was better +so. But what a mockery to stand beside a man, as she stood with Jack +this evening, jointly receiving their friends and their friends' +congratulations! What deception! What ignominy! + +In the mean time, as Emory had surmised, Armstrong had his hands +sufficiently full with the contessa. Her mind had been too constantly +applied to her interesting problem, during the days which had elapsed +since her call upon Cerini, to allow this opportunity to escape her. She +had exercised every art she possessed to learn something further from +Helen; she even had Emory take tea with her with the same definite +object in view; but either consciously or unconsciously both had parried +her diplomatic questioning with an air so natural and simple as to +convince her that they were not unskilled themselves in the game in +which she considered herself an adept. The one thing which remained was +the picture she had seen at the library; but this had been so positive +in the impression which it had made that she found herself even more +keen than ever to follow up the small advantage she had gained. + +Watching her opportunity, Amelie found herself beside Armstrong, with +the other guests far enough removed to enable her to converse with him +without being overheard. + +"All Florence owes you a debt of gratitude for bringing your beautiful +wife here," she began. "And how generous you have been to let us have so +much of her while you have been otherwise engaged!" + +"It has been my misfortune not to be able to share her social +pleasures," Armstrong replied. "Perhaps she has told you of the serious +work upon which I am engaged." + +"Yes, indeed," answered the contessa, cheerfully. "I am sure every man +in Florence who has had an opportunity to meet your wife has blessed you +for your devotion to this 'serious work,' as you call it. Italian +husbands are not so generous, especially upon their honeymoon." + +Armstrong bowed stiffly. The contessa's manner was far too affable to +warrant him in taking offence, yet he felt distinctly annoyed by what +she said. Amelie, however, gave him no opportunity to reply. + +"Oh, you don't know these Italian husbands," she continued, shrugging +her beautiful shoulders. "I have one, so I know all about it. They go +into paroxysms of fury even at the thought of having their wives go +about without them, receiving the admiration of other men. I have no +doubt that at this very moment my dear Morelli is either abusing one of +the servants or breaking some of the furniture, just because I happen to +be here while he is nursing his gouty foot at home. I am always proud of +my countrymen when I see them, as you are, willing to let their wives +enjoy themselves without them." + +"I do not think I have observed this trait among American husbands +developed to the extent you mention," Armstrong observed, with little +enthusiasm. + +"You haven't?" queried the contessa, innocently. "Perhaps that is +because you are such a learned man, with your eyes upon your books +instead of upon the world. You must take my word that it is so. But you +know enough of the world to recognize admiration when you yourself +become the object of it?" + +Amelie fastened upon her companion an arch smile so full of meaning that +Armstrong was caught entirely off his guard. + +"I the object of admiration?" he asked, incredulously. "I wish I might +think that you were speaking of your own." + +The contessa laughed merrily. "I certainly laid myself open for that, +did I not?" she replied. "Now suppose I had said adoration instead of +admiration, then you would not have replied as you did." + +"I should hardly have so presumed," he said, mystified by the contessa's +conversation. + +"Yet I have seen you the object of adoration--nothing less. I have seen +eyes resting upon your face filled with a devotion which a woman never +gives but once. You ought to feel very proud to be able to inspire all +that, Mr. Armstrong. I should if I were a man." + +"You have evidently mistaken me for some one else, contessa. Otherwise I +cannot understand what you are saying." + +Amelie looked at him curiously. "I wonder if you are really ignorant of +all this?" she asked. + +"You say that you have witnessed it, so it cannot be my wife of whom you +speak, as you have never seen us together. I certainly know of no other +woman who cares two straws about me. It must be that you have taken some +one else for me." + +"No; I am not mistaken." + +Armstrong's curiosity proved stronger than his resentment. "And you have +actually seen this?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Where and when?" + +The contessa's mood had become serious. She realized that she was +playing with dangerous weapons. "If you are sincere in what you say, Mr. +Armstrong, you would not thank me for telling you." + +"But you have gone so far that now I must insist." Helen's words +suddenly came back to him as he spoke. The contessa saw a change of +expression come over his face, and she held back her answer. + +"Was it at the Laurentian Library?" Armstrong asked, impulsively. + +Amelie smiled triumphantly. "It is really better for me not to answer +that question, my dear Mr. Armstrong. I only meant to pay you a +compliment, and I fear that I have touched on something I should have +avoided. You will forgive me, will you not?" + +Armstrong was for the moment too occupied with his own thoughts to +comprehend fully what she said to him. Mechanically he pressed the hand +which was held out to him, and a moment later the contessa entered into +a merry conversation with some of her friends in the garden. Too late he +realized that he had tacitly accepted the compromising position into +which she had led him. + +Emory left Helen in the midst of an animated group discussing in +enthusiastic tones their appreciation of the many innovations. The +musicians were concealed in the "snuggery," playing airs from favorite +operas, while waiters from Doney's served _gelati_ and _paste_ and +champagne at little tables scattered throughout the garden. The cool air +was grateful to Helen, and she threw herself into the enjoyment of the +moment. No one among her guests realized how little the brilliant, happy +scene fitted in with the sorrow in her heart. Yet the musicians played +on, the guests chatted merrily, and the lights reflected only that side +of life which Helen felt was hers no more. The hour-glass filled and +emptied, with no change save the departure of the guests. + +As the last good-night was spoken Helen sought mechanically the low +retaining wall against which she had so often rested. Jack and Uncle +Peabody were for the moment inside the house, and she was alone. Yes, +alone! How strongly she felt it, now that the stillness replaced the hum +of voices which had filled the garden! Her features did not change, but +a tear, unchecked as it was unbidden, coursed its way down her cheeks. +Emory saw it as he approached, unnoticed, to say good-night. + +"Helen!" he whispered, softly. + +She turned quickly and brushed the tear away with her hand. "How you +startled me!" she said. "I thought every one had gone." + +"Helen," Emory repeated, "you are unhappy." + +"I am tired," she replied, lightly; "that is all." + +"No, that is not all," he insisted. "You are miserably unhappy." + +"Don't, Phil," she entreated. + +"I must, Helen," Emory kept on. "I should have no respect for myself if +I kept silent another moment. All this time I have stood by and seen you +suffer without saying a word, when I have longed to take you in my arms +in spite of all and comfort you as you needed to be comforted." + +"Phil, I beg of you!" Helen cried, beseechingly. "You must not say such +things. I am not strong enough to stop you, and every word adds to the +pain." + +"Then there is pain!" cried Emory, fiercely. "At last I know it from +your own lips. And if there is pain it gives me the right to protect you +from it." + +"Oh, Phil!" Helen sank helplessly into a chair. + +"I have the right," Emory repeated. "My love, which you cast aside when +you accepted him, now gives it to me; my loyalty in surrendering you to +him for what I thought was your happiness now gives it to me; his +selfishness and his neglect now give it to me. And I claim my right." + +She made no reply. Convulsed with weeping, she sat huddled in the chair, +helpless in her sorrow. + +"I am going to Jack Armstrong now," continued Emory, savagely. "I am +going to tell him what a brute he is and demand you of him. I did not +give you up to be tortured by neglect while he devotes himself to his +'affinity.'" Emory's voice grew bitter. "And he calls it his +'masterpiece'! Better men than he have called it by another name." + +Helen rose, white and ghostlike in the pale, dim light. She was calm +again, and her voice was compelling in its quiet force. + +"You have been my friend, Phil--a friend on whom I have felt I could +rely always; yet you take this one moment, when I need real, honest +friendship more than ever before in all my life, to add another burden. +Is it kind, Phil--is it noble? I have suffered--I admit it. Jack is the +cause of it--I admit that, too. You have discovered all this by pulling +aside the veil which by my friend should have been held sacred; but with +my heart laid bare before you, can you not see that it contains no +thought except of him?" + +"I do not believe it," Emory replied, stubbornly. + +"You must believe it," she continued, with finality. "You know that my +words are true. Jack Armstrong is my husband and I am his wife. We must +forget what you have said and never refer to it again. Come, let us join +them in the house." + +"I can't, Helen." + +"Then we must say good-night here." + +Emory took the outstretched hand in his. For a moment their eyes met +firmly. Then he raised her fingers to his lips. + +"It is not good-night, Helen," he said, his voice breaking as he spoke; +"do you understand, it is not good-night--it is good-bye." + +Her glance did not falter, though a new sensation of pain passed through +her heart. "Good-bye," she replied, faintly, as she gently withdrew her +hand. + +Armstrong watched Emory's hasty departure and Helen's slow return to the +house from his unintentional place of concealment behind the oleanders, +where his footsteps had been arrested by the sound of voices. The +contessa's remarks had recalled with vivid intensity his conversation +with Helen about Inez. She regarded his relations with Miss Thayer to be +at least questionable, and he impatiently awaited the departure of the +guests to tell Helen what had happened and to set himself right in her +eyes. Now he had just heard Emory express himself even more pointedly +upon the same subject. + +The consciousness that he had been an eavesdropper, even though +unwittingly, prevented him from carrying out his purpose. As he saw +Helen drag herself rather than walk along the paths, he longed to fold +her to his heart and brush away her doubts for all time; but to do this +he must disclose his uncomfortable position, and this he could not do. +His resentment against Emory faded away in the face of Helen's splendid +loyalty. "My heart contains no thought except of him," he had heard her +say; and he thanked God that his awakening had not come too late. + +After a few moments he returned to the house from the opposite side of +the garden. + +"Where is Helen?" he asked Uncle Peabody, whom he met at the door. + +"She has gone to her room, Jack," Mr. Cartwright replied, without +meeting his eyes. "She said she was very tired, and asked particularly +not to be disturbed." + +Armstrong hesitated. She was hardly strong enough to talk the matter +over to-night, anyway. It would be a kindness to leave it until +to-morrow. + +"Thank God it is not too late!" Uncle Peabody heard him repeat to +himself, and the old man wondered if, after all, the sun was going to +shine through the cypress-trees. + + + + +XXII + + +Helen did not come down to breakfast the next morning, so Armstrong and +Miss Thayer found themselves at the library at their usual hour in spite +of the festivities of the night before. The events of the evening +impressed upon Jack the necessity of bringing his work to a speedy +conclusion. With feverish haste, and forgetful of his companion, he +seized his pen and transferred to the blank paper before him the words +which came faster than they could be transcribed. Left to her own +resources, Inez picked up the bunch of manuscript and settled back in +her chair to run it over, glancing from time to time at Armstrong, who +seemed consumed by the task before him. Accustomed as she was to his +moods while at work, Inez was almost frightened by the present +intensity. She hesitated even to move about lest he be disturbed, yet +until he gave her something to do she was wholly unemployed. + +For over an hour Armstrong's pen ran on. The fever was upon him, the +message was in his mind, the spirit must be translated to the more +tangible medium of words. At length, utterly exhausted for the moment, +he threw aside his pen and leaned back in his chair. + +"It is finished!" he cried, looking for the first time into Inez' face; +"all is now actually written, and the revision alone remains." + +Inez started to speak a word of congratulation, but in a flood of +realization she knew that the companionship of the past three months was +at an end. For the revision Armstrong would need no assistance; so she +faltered for a moment, but the omission was unnoticed. + +"I have just written the summary in the last chapter," Armstrong +continued. "I have taken Michelangelo's allegorical statues in the +Laurentian Chapel as typifying the characteristics and the tendencies of +the period. All that I have written seems naturally to lead up to them. +Listen." + +In a rich, tense voice Armstrong read from the sheets which he gathered +together in proper sequence: + +"'Michelangelo himself has given us in his marbles the truest +interpretation of the times in which he lived. After analyzing his +correspondence and deducing from this the customs of the people, we turn +to a consideration of the principles which lay beneath. The sculptor was +a poet, and the soul of the poet found expression not through his words +but through his hands. In the sacristy of San Lorenzo there are the +tombs of the Medici, designed by Michelangelo. They are unfinished, as +is typical of the period in which they were designed. At the entrance to +these tombs rest allegorical figures, which to the casual observer +indicate phases of darkness and of light, of death and of life. They are +two women and two men, and tradition names them 'Night' and 'Day,' +'Twilight' and 'Dawning.' To one who analyzes them, however, after a +profound study of the times in which they were produced, comes a +realization that they typify the character and the religious belief of +the people themselves. These statues and their attendant genii are a +series of abstractions, symbolizing the sleep and waking of existence, +action, and thought, the gloom of death, the lustre of life, and the +intermediate states of sadness and of hope that form the borderland of +both. Life is a dream between two slumbers; sleep is death's +twin-brother; night is the shadow of death, and death is the gate of +life. + +"'In each of these statues there is a palpitating thought, torn from the +artist's soul and crystallized in marble. It has been said that +architecture is petrified music; each of these statues becomes for us a +passion, fit for musical expression, but turned, like Niobe, to stone. +They have the intellectual vagueness, the emotional certainty that +belong to the motives of a symphony. In their allegories, left without a +key, sculpture has passed beyond her old domain of placid concrete form. +The anguish of intolerable emotion, the quickening of the consciousness +to a sense of suffering, the acceptance of the inevitable, the strife of +the soul with destiny, the burden and the passion of mankind--this is +the symbolism of the period as expressed by their cold, chisel-tortured +marble.'" + +"Splendid, my son!" spoke Cerini's proud voice as the librarian advanced +toward them out of the dim recess in which he had been standing; "that +is a fitting ending to a magnificent work. Your use of the statues as +symbolisms of their period is masterly. I myself have felt it often, but +with me the feeling has never found expression." + +"What a period that was!" exclaimed Armstrong. "How it seizes one, even +now, after four hundred years! Padre," he said to Cerini, after a +moment's pause, "you say that this work of mine is good?" + +The librarian nodded assent. + +"If that is so," continued Armstrong, impressively, "it is no more to my +credit than if Machiavelli or Leonardo or the Buonarroti himself had +written it. It is they who have held my hand and guided my pen." + +"Ah, my son," cried Cerini, with delight, "you are indeed a true +humanist--a man in whom the ancients take delight! Too bad that you must +drop it all, after your brief experience among this galaxy of greatness, +to return to the humdrum of commonplace existence--too bad, too bad!" + +"I shall never give it up, padre," Armstrong replied, firmly; "I could +not if I tried." He paused as he recalled Helen's wan face and +spiritless step. "I have been too intense. I owe it to my wife to share +with her interests which lie along other lines, but my life-work has +already been plotted out for me. I met these gods years ago, and I did +not know them; I felt them calling me back to them, and I obeyed. They +have let me sip their cup of wisdom, and he who once tastes that +delectable draught runs the risk of becoming no longer his own master. I +must leave them for a breathing-spell; I can never wholly give myself to +them again; but never fear, I shall ever come back to them. I could not +help it if I tried." + +The librarian watched the enthusiasm of the younger man with rapture. + +"My son, my son!" he cried, joyfully; "my life has not been spent in +vain if I have succeeded in joining one such modern intellect to that +noble band of sages who, though of the past, are ever in the present. +And you, too, my daughter," he continued, turning to Inez--"you, too, +have sipped the draught our friend speaks of; you, too, are linked +irrevocably to the wisdom of the ages." + +Inez bowed her head as if receiving a benediction. + +"I have tasted of it, father," she replied, seriously, "but only in +degree. This experience is one which can never be forgotten, can never +be repeated. I feel as if I were saying good-bye to friends dear and +true whom I shall never see again." + +Armstrong looked at her curiously. + +"I do not understand," he said. "Why should you ever say good-bye?" + +Inez tried to smile, but her attempt ended in a pitiful failure. + +"There is nothing very strange about it," she continued. "You and I +drifted into this work together almost by accident. To me it has been a +happy accident, and I like to think that I have helped a little in your +splendid achievement. It has been an experience of a lifetime, but, like +most experiences which are worth anything, it could never happen again." + +Armstrong failed utterly to grasp the significance of her words. + +"Of course not, unless you wished it so," he said. + +"Not even though I wished it," replied Inez, firmly. + +The contessa's words were in Armstrong's mind as he looked into her +face. If Helen could hear what she had just said his explanations would +be unnecessary. He wished the contessa were there, if she really +possessed any such idea as her conversation had suggested. This girl in +love with him, yet calmly stating that their association was at an end, +and that any continuance was an impossibility! + +"It has been a strain, Miss Thayer, as Helen said," he replied, +finally; "I feel it myself. With the manuscript actually completed, I +shall take my time in putting it into final shape. And now I suggest +that we get out into the air. Suppose we take a little run in the +motor-car out around San Domenico, and then back home, to surprise them +at luncheon?" + +Inez saw in Armstrong's suggestion a relaxing of the strained condition +which she had brought upon herself. + +"Perhaps Monsignor Cerini will join us," she added. + +"Never!" replied the librarian, with sudden fervor. "I may indulge +myself in air-ships when once they become popular, but never in an +automobile! I will have Maritelli telephone for your car." + +Inez smiled at Jack as they watched Cerini disappear through the door of +his study. Then Armstrong's face grew serious. + +"The old man loves me as if I were his son," he said, feelingly. "He is +more proud of what I have done than if he had accomplished it himself." + +"He has reason to be proud," replied Inez; "and so have we all." + + * * * * * + +In olden days the bishop who was obliged to visit his diocese at San +Domenico or at Fiesole had not spoken so lightly of the trip. Setting +out on mule-back, and scattering blessings as he left the Porta a Pinti +by the road still called the Via Fiesolana, he hoped to reach the +"Riposo dei Vescovi" in time for dinner. There, after a bountiful +repast, he discarded his faithful beast of burden, and entered the +ox-drawn sledge which the monks of San Domenico were bound to provide, +reaching the hill-top, if all went well, about sunset. But this was +before the days even of the stage-coaches, and before the modern tramway +enabled Mother Florence to reach out and enfold her daughters in her +arms. + +The chauffeur carefully picked his way through the narrow Borgo San +Lorenzo into the more spacious Piazza del Duomo. Passing around the apse +of the cathedral, they entered the Via de' Servi. + +"Sometime we must stop and take a look at these fine old palaces," said +Armstrong, leaning forward and pointing down the street. "The Antinori, +for instance, has just been restored, and it has one of the most +stunning Renaissance court-yards in all Florence. We shall pass by it in +a moment." + +The car crossed the square of the SS. Annunziata, where they stopped for +a moment again to admire Andrea Della Robbia's swaddled babies on the +facade of the Foundling Hospital, and to look up from Tacca's statue of +Duke Ferdinand to the window of the Antinori Palace, hoping for a +glimpse of that face from the past, whose history is recorded by +Browning in his "Statue and the Bust." From this point the road was +clearer, passing up the Via Gino Capponi, where Armstrong again pointed +out the house of Andrea del Sarto--"the little house he used to be so +gay in"--past the Capponi Palace, and also that of San Clemente, where +lived and died the last Stuart Pretender. With increasing speed, they +crossed the Viale Principe Amedeo, past the gloomy Piazza Savonarola, +around the Cemetery of the Misericordia, to San Gervasio, where the real +ascent began. + +The sudden change from the close atmosphere of the library to the +invigorating air acted as a tonic on Armstrong and his companion; and in +addition to this the tension of three months' close application was +lightened. The book was actually written! Inez thought she had never +seen him in so incomparable a mood, as he called her attention to many +little points of interest which, during other rides, had been passed +unnoticed. On they went, olive gardens alternating with splendid villas +on either side, until, almost before they realized it, San Domenico was +reached, and they paused to regard the magnificent panorama spread out +before their eyes. Armstrong looked back and saw the Via della Piazzola +behind him. Then his glance turned to the steep hill in front. In a +flood of memory came back to him the details of the last time he had +been there--alone with Helen, so soon after their arrival in Florence. + +"I measure everything by that day at Fiesole," she had said to him; "I +believe it was the happiest day I ever spent." + +How long ago it seemed to him, and how much had happened since! She was +not happy now--she had told him so with her own lips; she had even been +forced to acknowledge it to Emory. He had been forgetful of her during +these weeks of study; but it was over now, and he would make it up to +her. When she saw him back in his old semblance again her pain would +pass away, her happiness return, and the present misunderstanding be +forgotten. + +His thoughts of Helen reminded him of his intention to return to the +villa in time for luncheon, after which he would tell her how deeply he +regretted all that had happened. + +"Turn around, Alfonse," he said, looking at his watch, "and run home as +fast as you can; we have hardly time to get there." + +The return toward Florence was quickly made in spite of the sudden +bends and narrow roads. Turning sharply at Ponte a Mensola, Alfonse +increased his speed as they approached the hill leading from the Piazza +of Settignano to the villa. + +"Careful at the next turn, Alfonse; it's a nasty one," cautioned +Armstrong, aware that his instructions were being carried out too +literally. + +The machine was nearer to the corner than Alfonse realized. He saw the +danger, and with his hand upon the emergency-brake he threw his weight +upon the wheel. Something gave way, and in another moment the car +crashed against the masonry wall, the engine made a few convulsive +revolutions, and then lay inert and helpless. + +Inez was thrown over the low wall, landing without injury in the +cornfield on the other side. Alfonse jumped, and found himself torn and +bruised upon the road, with no injuries which could not easily be +mended. But Armstrong, sitting nearest to the point of contact, lay amid +the wreckage of the machine, still and lifeless, with a gash in the side +of his head, showing where he had struck the wall. + +By the time Inez had found an opening Alfonse had gathered himself up, +and together they lifted Armstrong on to the grass by the side of the +road. Two frightened women and a boy hurried out from the peasant's +cottage near by, the women wringing their hands, the boy stupefied by +fear. + +"Some water, quick!" commanded Inez; and one of the women hastened to +obey. + +Wetting her handkerchief and kneeling beside the still figure, Inez +bathed Armstrong's face and washed the blood from the ugly cut. She +chafed his hands and felt his pulse. There was no response, and she +turned her ashen face to the women watching breathless beside her. + +"He is dead," she said, in an almost inarticulate voice. The women +crossed themselves and burst into tears. + +"May we take him in there," she asked, pointing to the cottage, "while +the chauffeur brings his wife?" + +Between them the body was gently lifted into the cottage and laid upon +the bed in the best room. Then Alfonse set out upon his solemn mission. + +"Leave me with him," Inez begged rather than commanded the woman who +remained. "I will stay with him until they come." + +She closed the door. Leaning against it for support, with her hand upon +the latch, she gazed at the inanimate form upon the bed. The necessity +of action had dulled her realization of the horror, and, sinking upon +the floor, she buried her face in her hands, giving way for the first +time to the tears which until now had been denied. The first paroxysm +over, she raised her head and looked about the room. Every object in it +burned itself into her mind: the straw matting on the floor, the cheap +prints upon the wall, the rough cross and the crucified Saviour hanging +over the bed. Dead--dead! + +"Oh, God," she murmured, incoherently, to herself, "is this to be the +solution of this awful problem--inexplicable in life, unendurable in +death!" + +Suddenly she rose from the floor and stood erect. She looked at the +closed door--then turned to where the body lay. She rested her hand upon +Armstrong's forehead. Then sitting upon the edge of the bed she gently +lifted his arm and grasped his hand as her body became convulsed with +heart-breaking sobs. + +"Jack!" she cried, covering his hands with kisses, "Jack--speak to me! +Tell me that you are not dead," she implored. "Oh no, no--that cannot +be; you are too grand, too noble to die like this!" + +She rose and stood for a moment looking down at him. + +"Dead!" she repeated, piteously--"dead!" A hectic glow came into her +face. "Then you are mine!" she cried, fiercely. "Jack, my beloved, you +are mine, dear--do you hear?--and I am yours. Oh, Jack, how I have loved +you all these weeks! Now I can tell you of it, dear--it will do no +harm!" + +Again she sat upon the bed and placed her hands upon his cheeks. + +"My darling, my beloved!" she whispered. "Open your eyes just once and +tell me that I may call you mine if only for this one terrible moment. +This is our moment, dear--no one can take it from us! Have you not seen +how I have loved you, how I have struggled to keep you from knowing it. +Jack, Jack! this is the beginning and the end." + +The room seemed to spin around, and before her eyes a mist gathered. + +"I am dying, too, Jack," she said, frankly--"thank God, I am dying, +too." + +At last Nature applied her saving balm to the strained nerves, and +Inez' sufferings were temporarily assuaged by that sweet insensibility +which stands between the human mind and madness. So Helen found her, a +few moments later, when pale and trembling she entered the room. + + + + +BOOK III + +CO-PARTNER WITH NATURE + + + + +XXIII + + +Helen received the heart-breaking news from Alfonse with a degree of +control which surprised even Uncle Peabody. Her questions were few, but +so vital in their directness that by the time she had learned the nature +and the seriousness of the accident, and the location of the cottage +where her husband's body lay, she was hurrying to the scene of the +calamity. + +"Do you know where to reach an American or English surgeon?" she +promptly asked Uncle Peabody, and his affirmative reply as he hastened +to the telephone was the last word she heard as she left the villa. + +Once in the cottage, she followed the guidance of the weeping, +awe-struck peasants, who silently pointed out to her the room of death. +She opened the door, and crossed the room with a firm step. Sinking to +her knees beside the bed, she buried her face for a brief moment in her +hands--then she rose quickly to her feet. With the help of the woman who +had entered with her, she lifted Inez' inert figure from across her +husband's body. + +"She has fainted, poor child!" she said, quietly, divining that the +girl's insensibility was not serious. "Let us take her into the next +room." + +Leaving the woman to provide for Inez' necessities, and giving her +instructions how to act, Helen turned from the improvised cot to go back +to Jack. His hands were still warm, but she could find no perceptible +pulsation. She loosened his collar and moved his head a little to one +side, discovering the wound for the first time. A cry of pain burst from +her as she drew back sick and dizzy, her lips quivering and tears +starting to her eyes. Then she leaned over him again, gently washing +away the slight flow of blood with a moist cloth which one of the women +handed her. + +"Look!" she cried, pathetically, to Uncle Peabody, who entered the room +a moment later, pointing to the wound and gazing into his eyes with her +own distended by her suffering and her sense of helplessness. + +Uncle Peabody put his arm about her, and rested his other hand upon +Armstrong's wrist. "Dr. Montgomery will be here in a moment, Helen," he +said, quietly, feeling instinctively that this was no time for words of +sympathy. "I caught him at the Grand Hotel, and there was a motor-car at +the door." + +"He is dead!" was Helen's response, piteous in its intensity. + +"Perhaps not, dear," replied Uncle Peabody, soothingly. "Let us stand by +the window until the doctor comes." + +Helen refused to suffer herself to be led away from her husband's side. + +"I can't," she said, simply, shaking her head; "I must watch over him." + +Then she turned back to resume her self-appointed vigil, and suddenly +found herself looking into his open eyes. + +"Jack!" she cried, seizing his face in her hands as she again sank upon +her knees--"oh, Jack!" + +She could find no other words in the revulsion which swept over her. +Her cry quickly brought Uncle Peabody, and the women drew near to behold +the miracle of the dead brought to life; but all except Helen fell back +as the doctor entered. + +"He lives, doctor!" she exclaimed exultantly, her face radiant with joy. + +"Then there is hope," he replied, with a reassuring smile, as he began +the examination of his patient. + +Helen followed every motion as the doctor proceeded, encouraged by the +confidential little nods he made at the conclusion of each process, as +if answering in the affirmative certain questions which he put to +himself. Armstrong again opened his eyes as the doctor carefully +investigated the depth of the wound, and his lips moved slightly. Helen +impulsively drew nearer, but the sound was barely articulate. + +The doctor drew back the lids and peered intently into his open eyes, +nodding again to himself. At length he turned to the silent group about +him, who so eagerly waited for the verdict. + +"Will he live?" was Helen's tense question as she seized his arm. + +Dr. Montgomery looked into the upturned face with a kindly smile. "I +hope so, Mrs. Armstrong," he answered, quietly. "It is a severe +concussion of the brain, and we must await developments." + +"Are there unfavorable signs?" asked Uncle Peabody, anxiously. + +"No; quite the contrary so far. There is no fracture of the skull, and +the normal size of the pupils shows no serious injury to the brain." + +"The unconsciousness is due simply to the concussion?" + +"Exactly." + +"Then what do you fear?" + +"There is always danger of meningitis. We can tell nothing about this +until later." + +"Will it be safe to move him?" asked Helen. + +"Yes; and you had better do so. I must dress and sew up the wound, and +then he can be carried home on a stretcher. Suppose you leave me alone +with him now, while I make his head a bit more presentable." + +Helen's buoyancy was contagious as she and Uncle Peabody started to +leave the room, but Jack's voice recalled them. + +"It is--the symbolism--of the period," he muttered, incoherently. + +"It is all right," the doctor replied to Helen's startled, unspoken +interrogation. "He is delirious, and will be so for days." + +Satisfied with the explanation, they passed through the door into the +next room, where they found Inez sitting weakly in an arm-chair, her +hair dishevelled, her face white as marble, supported by the woman in +whose care she had been left. + +Helen hurried to her. "He is not dead!" she cried, joyfully--"do you +hear, Inez? Jack is alive, and the doctor thinks he will recover!" + +Inez answered with a fresh flood of tears. "Oh, Helen! Helen!" she +murmured, clinging impulsively to her arm. + +Helen's recovery came much more spontaneously than did Inez'. With the +one the pendulum had made a completed swing, and the depths at one +extreme had been offset by the heights at the other. Inez, however, was +hopelessly distraught by the accumulated weight of a multitude of +emotions: the physical shock of the accident, the horror of the +situation as it first burst upon her with unmitigated force, the +involuntary tearing from her heart of the mask it had worn for so many +months--and now the painful joy of the reaction. She rested in her +chair, almost an inert mass, in total collapse of mind and body. + +"I could not help it, Helen," she murmured, piteously, as her friend +pushed back the dishevelled hair from her hot forehead. + +"Of course you could not, dear," Helen cried, smiling through her tears +of joy at the obvious relief her words gave. "Oh, I am so happy, Inez!" + +Helen's face grew pale again as her thoughts returned to those first +awful moments, which now seemed so long ago. "I really thought him dead, +Inez," she continued, after a moment's silence. "We could not have +endured that, could we, dear? Now we will take him to the villa and +nurse him back to health and strength. How strange it will seem to him +not to be able to do things for himself!" + +"Is he--badly hurt?" ventured Inez. + +"The doctor can't tell yet, but he feels encouraged." + +"Is he--conscious?" + +"Not wholly--and the doctor says he will be delirious for days." + +"Oh," replied Inez, again relaxing. + +Dr. Montgomery quietly entered the room, carefully closing the door +after him. "All goes well," he replied to the questions before they were +put to him. "The patient is resting quietly and may be moved as soon as +a stretcher can be secured. Your villa is near by, I think Mr. +Cartwright said?" + +"The stretcher is being prepared," replied Uncle Peabody, answering the +doctor's question, "and I have sent for two strong men." + +"Good. Have I another patient here?" Dr. Montgomery turned to Inez. + +"She is suffering only from the shock," answered Helen. + +"Let me take you both home in my motor-car," suggested the doctor. + +"Take Miss Thayer," Helen replied, quickly. + +"Oh no!" Inez shuddered; "I can never enter one of those awful things +again!" + +Dr. Montgomery smiled indulgently. "It will really be better, Miss +Thayer, and I will personally guarantee your safe arrival." + +"I would rather walk beside the stretcher," Helen continued; "there +might be something I could do." + +The doctor bowed as he acquiesced. "Your husband will require very +little to be done for him for some days, Mrs. Armstrong," he said; "but +if you prefer to stay near him your suggestion is better than mine." + +"Did he speak again, doctor?" asked Helen. + +"Yes," he replied, with a professional shrug; "but he said nothing. You +must pay no attention to his ramblings. His mind will remain a blank +until Nature supplies the connecting link. In the mean time he will +require simply quiet and rest." + +Uncle Peabody's stretcher was soon ready for service, and the still +unconscious burden was gently lifted upon it and carried with utmost +tenderness up the hill to the villa, where old Giuseppe and the maids +received the party with unaffected joy at the good news that their +master would survive the accident that had befallen him. With the aid of +the trained nurse they found awaiting them, Armstrong was carefully +transferred from the stretcher to his own bed, Inez was made comfortable +in her room, and the doctor sat down upon the veranda with Helen and +Uncle Peabody, who welcomed a moment's rest after the wearing experience +of the past hour. + +"Tell us the probabilities of the case, Dr. Montgomery," said Uncle +Peabody. "Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong were planning to return to Boston soon, +and now it will of course be necessary to rearrange their plans." + +"Naturally," assented the doctor. "I will tell you all I can. These +cases are somewhat uncertain, but the patient's delirium will surely +last for several days. Then comes a slow period of convalescence, during +which time the body repairs much more rapidly than the mind. You cannot +count on less than two months, even with everything progressing +favorably." + +Uncle Peabody glanced over to where Helen was sitting. + +"I don't care how long it takes," she replied to his implied +interrogation, "so long as he gets well." + +Dr. Montgomery smiled as he rose to take his leave. "My patient is +evidently in good hands," he said. "The nurse will do all that needs to +be done until I return in the course of an hour or two." + +Helen and Uncle Peabody sat in silence for some moments after the +doctor departed. There was nothing further to be done for the present, +as both Jack and Inez were resting as comfortably as could be expected +under the circumstances, and absolute quiet was the one thing needful. + +"Well," said Uncle Peabody, at length, "it is the unexpected which has +happened again." + +"Yes," Helen assented without looking up; "if it keeps on happening with +such startling regularity I shall begin to expect it, and then your +theory will lose its point." + +Uncle Peabody was in a thoughtful rather than an argumentative mood. + +"If I was not afraid you would think me heartless, Helen, I would say +that I believe I see the hand of Providence in this." + +She looked up quickly. + +"Of course, assuming that Jack recovers," he hastened to add. + +"I am afraid my philosophy is hardly equal to this test," Helen replied, +unsympathetically. "I am supremely happy that the affair is not so +serious as it seemed at first, but I can't see anything particularly +providential in the injury poor Jack has sustained, nor in the suffering +he must pass through at best." + +"Is it not just possible that this long period of convalescence, which +Dr. Montgomery says is inevitable, may bring him to himself again?" + +Helen smiled sadly. "It was the work at the library which brought him to +himself, uncle. A separation from those influences which so strongly +affected him there may result in a return to the old self I knew before +we came here; but that is not his real self." + +"If he returns to that condition, no matter what brings it about, will +it not simplify matters?" + +"I can't see how," replied Helen, seriously. "If I had never known this +new development in Jack's nature, I should of course be quite content to +have him return to his former self; but having seen him as he really is, +I could never accept any condition which allows him no development of +his higher and stronger personality. It would not be fair either to him +or to me." + +Uncle Peabody regarded Helen curiously. "Let me make myself clearer," he +said, with considerable emphasis. "Only this very morning you were +discussing with me the final outcome of what appeared to be a domestic +tragedy. Your husband was controlled by the spell of the old-time +learning which had reached out from its antiquity to grasp a modern +convert. You were convinced that Miss Thayer's sentiments toward your +husband had developed into affection, and you stated in so many words +that if Jack did not reciprocate this affection he really ought to do +so, because she was the one woman in the world qualified by nature to be +his wife. In the presence of this overwhelming condition you very +generously planned--and I expressed to you how much I admired your +spirit--to eliminate yourself, and to sacrifice your own happiness in +order to enable your husband to accomplish his destiny." + +"You are making sport of me--it is most unkind!" she cried, +reproachfully. + +"You know I wouldn't do that," insisted Uncle Peabody. "I am merely +presenting a simple statement of the case in order to prove my original +assertion. Please let me continue. Just as the crisis seems to be at +hand this accident occurs. In a most unexpected manner Jack is instantly +divorced from the influences which have drawn him away from you. The +break between him and Miss Thayer has been accomplished naturally, and +he has been placed in his wife's hands to be nursed back to +health--during which experience you both will come to know each other +far better than ever before. Again I say--I believe I see the hand of +Providence in the whole affair." + +Helen waited to make quite sure that Uncle Peabody had finished. "I +wonder if it is I who always see things differently," she said, "or if a +man's viewpoint is of necessity different from a woman's. I love Jack +more than I can ever express--and this accident has brought that +devotion nearer to the surface than I have dared to let it come for many +weeks. I have suffered in seeing him drawn away from me, and in +realizing that I was becoming less and less essential to his life. Yet, +through it all, I have understood. I have suffered to think that any +other woman could be more to him than I am, but my love has not blinded +my eyes to what I have actually seen. These are conditions which cannot +be changed, even by this accident. Suppose it does separate him from all +those influences which have brought about the crisis, as you call it; +suppose that because of this separation, and the physical weakness +through which he must pass, Jack turns to me as before, and for the time +being believes that I am more to him than all else in the world--will +this change the conditions themselves?" + +"Do you mean that you would not accept this change in him?" + +"I mean that I would not take advantage of it," replied Helen, firmly. +"I have seen the development which has taken place in Jack from the +moment of our first meeting down to the present time. Even with the +sorrow it has cost me I admire that development. Had I possessed equal +possibilities, all would have been well. As I did not, it would be the +act not of love but of tyranny to stand between him and his grander +potentiality." + +"But suppose that as Jack recovers he comes to a realization that his +obsession has been a mistake--that your love and companionship really +mean more to him than anything he can get elsewhere?" + +"That would be a retrogression, after what I have seen him pass through. +As I just said, if I possessed the ability to rise to him, what you +suggest might be a possibility; but I would never consent to have him +assume a lower plane than that upon which he belongs simply that I may +retain my claim." + +Helen rose as she spoke and walked slowly down the veranda. Uncle +Peabody watched her retreating figure, and studied her face as she +returned and leaned against one of the pillars in silence. + +"Why do you think it would force him to take a lower plane?" he asked, +pointedly. + +Helen turned abruptly and looked at him with an expression of frank +surprise. "Why do I think so?" she repeated. "What a foolish question!" + +"Still, I ask you for an answer," Uncle Peabody insisted. + +"Because he is so far ahead of me in every way," Helen answered, simply. + +"Suppose this is not true?" + +"But it is." + +"Why are you so positive?" + +"Because it is quite apparent to every one--to Jack, to Cerini, and even +to myself." + +Uncle Peabody rose and stood beside her, taking her face between his +hands and looking kindly into her eyes. + +"You are not so far behind him as you think," he said, firmly. +"Whatever the distance between you may have been when you were first +married, the trials I have seen you endure have wrought changes at least +as great as those you have noticed in Jack. You are a brave, strong +woman, Helen, and your development has been from within outward. I wish +I could say as much for him." + +"You are trying to give me courage, you dear old comforter," Helen +replied, unconvinced but with a grateful smile. + +"I am trying to show you yourself as you really are, my child," Uncle +Peabody replied, "and to help you to recognize an act of Providence when +one falls your way." + + + + +XXIV + + +Dr. Montgomery's approximate estimate of the duration of Armstrong's +delirium proved to be only a few days shorter than the actual fact. In +less than a week all anxiety regarding any possible complications was +set at rest by the doctor's report that his patient was progressing +normally and as well as could be expected. The skull had sustained no +injury, and the brain suffered only from the concussion. The household +became accustomed to the still figure, which gave evidence of its +returning strength only by the increasing frequency of incoherent +ramblings, the voice developing in firmness as the days progressed. + +Inez was about again by this time, and with sunken eyes and ashen face +shared with Helen the privilege of watching beside the patient during +the last week of his unconsciousness. But it was a different Inez from +the serious but happy and alert girl who had sat beside Armstrong in the +automobile when it had crashed against the wall. The burden of bearing +her secret alone, during all these weeks, had been in itself a wearing +experience, but this was as nothing compared with the agony of soul +through which she had since passed. The very struggle with herself, and +the sense of personal sacrifice she experienced, had previously served +in her own mind to sanctify her affection and to justify its existence. +Now that she had allowed her passion to burst from her control, all +justification was at an end. Her womanhood and sense of right seemed to +separate themselves from her weaker emotions, and to judge and condemn +them without mitigation. + +It was natural that Helen should attribute her changed condition to the +horror of the accident itself; yet Inez knew that the scene which was +enacted in her mind over and over again until it almost drove her mad +was that of her own shameless disloyalty. She shuddered as it returned +to her even now while sitting beside Armstrong's bed; she shrank from +Helen's sympathetic caress and her thoughtful solicitude. If she could +only cry out and proclaim to them all the unworthy part she had +performed, she would feel some sense of relief in the self-abasement it +must bring to her. + +Armstrong's delirious wanderings were a sore trial to Inez, but she +accepted and bore them with the unflinching courage of an ascetic. The +sound of his voice, the undirected, expressionless gaze of his eyes, the +uncertainty of what each disconnected sentence might call to mind--all +drove fresh barbs into a soul already tortured by self-condemnation. At +first his mind had seemed to center itself upon his wife and his +enforced separation from her. + +"When it is finished," he had murmured, tossing from side to side and +finally raising his hand as if reaching out to some one--"when it is +finished she will understand." + +"She does understand, dear," Helen had cried out, seizing his hand and +pressing it to her lips; but instantly he withdrew it, and his words +again became incoherent and meaningless. + +At another time, when both Helen and Inez were sitting near by, his eyes +opened, and he seemed to be looking directly at his wife. + +"She refuses to continue the work, Helen," he said, as she sprang to his +side, believing that at last his mind had cleared--"you were quite +wrong, do you not see?" + +Helen looked at Inez quickly, noting the swift color which suffused her +pale face, but before a word could be spoken the invalid had relapsed +into his former condition. Inez made an excuse to escape from the room +for a moment. "You were quite wrong--do you not see?" she repeated +Armstrong's words to herself. Was he simply rambling, or had the subject +been brought up for previous discussion? Inez' conscience, sensitive +from the load already resting upon it, quivered with new +apprehensiveness. Yet Helen's attitude toward her had in no way +changed--in fact, the awful anxiety of the first suspense, together with +the later mutual responsibilities which they had shared, had seemed to +Inez to draw them even more closely to each other. She tried to gain an +answer to her inward questionings from Helen's face as she re-entered +the room, but found there nothing but cordiality and friendliness. + +"He must be getting nearer and nearer to a return of consciousness," +Helen had said, quite naturally; "but how he wanders!" She looked over +affectionately to her husband, still and helpless, but breathing with +the steady regularity of convalescence. "Sometimes it is about his work +at the library--sometimes it is about me. What agony of spirit he must +be passing through if he realizes any of it!" + +"He loves you, Helen," Inez cried, impulsively--"he loves you now, just +as he always has!" + +"Of course." Helen looked up questioningly from her fancy work. She was +not yet ready to take Inez into her confidence. "What a strange remark, +dear! Is it not quite natural that my husband should love me?" + +Helen's smiling face, as she asked her simple but disconcerting +question, completely unnerved Inez. + +"He has been so worried about the time which his work compelled him to +be away from you," Inez replied, at length, trying to conceal her +confusion. "He finished the first draft of the book the day of the +accident. His first thought, after he put down his pen, was to return to +the villa, that he might surprise you at lunch." + +"Cerini!" called Armstrong. + +Helen placed her hand upon his forehead soothingly. + +"I owe it to my wife--" the invalid continued; "but I shall come +back--come back." + +"Yes, dear, you shall go back," she answered, quietly, resting her cheek +against his--"you shall go back." + +"When it is finished--" Armstrong murmured, again subsiding into +silence. + +So the days passed, one by one, differing little, each from the other, +yet filled with many and conflicting emotions on the part of the +faithful watcher by the bedside. With all its pain, Helen welcomed this +period during which she could work out her problem with the unconscious +help of the rambling, disconnected sentences which escaped from her +husband's lips. Sometimes they were full of tenderness for her; again +they were reproaches, levelled at himself for his neglect; but most +frequently they made reference to his work in some of its various +stages. Alternately her heart was touched by his apparent affection for +her, and the wound again torn open by his appeal to or dependence upon +Inez. But through it all came the one conviction, which needed but this +strengthening reassurance to make her determined path seem certain--that +whatever drew him away from his work and back to her was a sense of +duty, and that alone. + +Helen questioned Dr. Montgomery upon the ordinary phenomena in cases +such as this. + +"His mutterings may be absolutely meaningless," he replied to her +questions, "or they may be thoughts or actual repetitions of +conversations which he has previously had." + +"In the latter case, would he be likely to repeat them correctly?" + +"Yes, provided he repeats them at all." + +"And these thoughts or conversations, if correctly repeated, would +presumably indicate his convictions at the time they occurred?" + +"His convictions at the time they occurred," Dr. Montgomery assented; +"but their reliability as normal expressions would depend upon his +mental condition at the time the thoughts occurred or the words were +spoken." + +Armstrong's recovery came unexpectedly, even after the long days of +waiting. The perfect July day was drawing to a close, and Helen had +watched the sinking sun from the window beside his bed. It was all so +beautiful! The world seemed full of glorious hopefulness and promise, +and her heart filled to overflowing at the thought that for her, who +loved it so, that promise no longer held good. She turned to the silent +figure lying upon the bed. Would he ever realize what she had gone +through and must still endure for him? She sank upon her knees, burying +her face in the counterpane, as if to shut out the overpowering +grandeur, which produced so sad a contrast. Suddenly she felt a hand +resting upon her head, and a voice spoke her name. + +She looked up quickly straight into her husband's eyes, now wide open +and filled with an expression so full of love and devotion that her +heart sprang forth in eager response. It was the expression which his +face had worn when she had first confessed her love for him, and the +intervening months, with their brief joy and their long sorrow, were +obliterated on the instant. Once more he was the devoted, thoughtful, +irresistible lover, and Helen felt the weight of years roll off her +tired shoulders, leaving her the happy, buoyant girl, proud of having +won this strong man's affection. She gazed at him silently, fearing lest +the eyes close again, and unwilling to lose a moment of their present +significance; but they remained open. + +"Helen," Armstrong repeated, still looking intently at her, "be patient, +dear. I know how shamefully I have neglected you, I know how much I have +hurt you; but my work is nearly finished now. Then, believe me, all will +be as before." + +The voice was calm and sustained. There was no hesitation, no rambling. +Still, she did not fully comprehend that he was himself again. + +"Yes, dear," she replied, humoring him; "then all will be as before." + +He could not see the sharp pain which showed in her face as she spoke, +nor did he realize how her heart wished that it might be so. + +"I must get up," he continued, after a moment's silence. "What time is +it? I shall be late at the library." + +"You have finished your work for to-day, Jack," she answered, quietly. + +"Have I?" he asked, simply. + +His glance slowly wandered about the room. "Is it not morning?" he +queried, at length. + +"It is afternoon," she replied, turning toward the window. "See--the sun +is just sinking behind San Miniato." + +"Afternoon?" he queried, vaguely--"afternoon, and I still in bed?" + +"You have not been well," she volunteered, guardedly, carefully +following the doctor's injunctions. "Don't bother now; you will be +feeling much better in the morning." + +"Not well?" Armstrong's mind was groping around for some familiar +landmark upon which to fasten. "I was at the library--was it this +morning?--Cerini was there, Miss Thayer was there--where is Miss +Thayer?" + +"She went out only a moment ago. But don't try to think about it now. It +will be much better for you to do that later." + +He weakly acquiesced and closed his eyes, still holding her hand firmly +grasped in his own. The doctor found him gently sleeping, with Helen +watching patiently beside him, when he entered the room an hour later. + +She held up her disengaged hand warningly. "He is himself again," she +whispered. + +"Good!" replied Dr. Montgomery, with satisfaction. "Tell me about it." + +"That is splendid," he said, when she had recounted the details; "he is +progressing famously. You won't be able to keep him from questioning, +but try to let the awakening come as gradually as possible." + +The morning brought renewed strength to the invalid. The nurse called +Helen as soon as Armstrong wakened, and he plied her with countless +interrogations. Uncle Peabody came in to see him immediately after a +light breakfast had been served, but Inez, upon one pretext or another, +delayed entering the sick-room. + +"It will be better for him to become accustomed to his new conditions," +she urged, when Helen suggested her going to see him. "You and Mr. +Cartwright should have these first moments with him. Later I shall be +only too glad to help in any way I can." + +But Armstrong himself was not to be denied. + +"There is more to all this than you are telling me," he said, +petulantly, at last, after learning from Helen and Uncle Peabody such +details as he could draw forth regarding the duration of his illness and +its general nature. "I remember now leaving the library in the motor-car +with Miss Thayer. We went--where did we go? Oh yes; to San Domenico. +Then we came home. Did we come home?" he asked, with uncertainty in his +voice; but before an answer could be given he had himself supplied the +connecting link. + +"I have it!" he cried, raising himself upon his elbow--"there was an +accident. Alfonse tried to take that turn at the foot of the hill, and +we smashed against the wall." + +"Yes," Helen assented, trying to calm his rising excitement, "there was +an accident, and you were badly hurt; but you are nearly well now. +Please go slowly, Jack, or you will undo all that your long rest has +accomplished. There is plenty of time." + +"But Miss Thayer," he replied, not heeding her admonition and glancing +about searchingly. "Where is Miss Thayer? She was injured, too?" + +"Not seriously," Helen reassured him. + +"Then where is she?" + +"I don't know exactly, but she is not far away." + +"You have not sent her away while I have been ill?" he asked, with a +touch of his former suspicion. + +"No, Jack." All of the tired, strained tone came back in Helen's voice +as she turned away from the bed to conceal her disappointment. + +Armstrong sensed it all as he had failed to do at other times since the +gap had begun to widen. + +"I did not mean that, Helen," he said, and reaching over he took her +hand and drew her to him; "I really did not mean it." + +"It is all right, Jack," Helen replied, withdrawing her hand and trying +to smile; "I will find Inez and send her to you." And before he could +remonstrate she had left the room. + +While he waited Armstrong had a brief moment of introspection. Again he +had wounded her, and for no cause. He had enjoyed the short period since +his awakening, particularly on account of the tender and affectionate +care Helen had given him, which she had for a long time withheld because +of his own self-centred interest. It was with real regret that he found +this little visit with his wife so abruptly brought to an end, yet he +himself had forced the termination. He must fight against this +unfortunate attribute, he told himself, and show Helen his real feelings +toward her. + +His reveries were interrupted by Inez' entrance. Silently she stood +beside him, holding out her hand, which he quietly grasped for a moment +and then released. He wondered at the color in her face and at her +apparent unwillingness to meet his glance. + +"They tell me we have been through an accident together," he said, +slowly. "Thank God it was I who was injured and not you." + +Inez turned from him, closing her eyes involuntarily. "Don't speak of +it!" she cried, impulsively; "it was too awful!" + +"But it is all over now." + +"All but the memory," she replied, faintly. "Let us forget it, I beg of +you." + +"I was going to ask you for some of the details," Armstrong continued, +"which you alone can give." + +"Oh, I beg of you," she repeated; "I could not bear it." + +"Then by all means let us forget it," he replied, curiously affected by +the girl's emotion. "Perhaps some time later you will feel more like +talking about it. You see, I can remember nothing after the crash +against the wall." + +"Thank God!" cried Inez, passionately, turning away her head. + +"I suppose it is better so," Armstrong assented, still wondering at the +intensity of her emotion. "But when one has had a whole fortnight of his +life blotted out, he naturally feels a bit of curiosity concerning what +happened during all that time." + +"You must excuse me, Mr. Armstrong. You don't know how this tortures +me, and I really cannot bear it." + +Armstrong watched the girl as she turned and fairly fled from the room, +completely mystified by her extraordinary attitude. + +"What in the world can have happened?" he asked himself; and then he +settled back on the pillow and tried to answer his own question. + + + + +XXV + + +There is no place like the sick-room for self-examination and +introspection. In the still monotony of the slow-passing days, the +invalid's mind is freed from the conventions of every-day complexities, +and can view its problems with a veracity and a clearness at other times +impossible. As Armstrong's convalescence continued, he marshalled before +him certain events which had occurred since his arrival in Florence, and +examined them with great minuteness. Some of these seemed trivial, and +he wondered why they came back at this time and forced themselves upon +him with such persistence; some of them were important, and he realized +that Helen had much of which she might justly complain. + +His eyes followed her as she moved about the room, quick to anticipate +each wish or necessity, and sweetly eager to respond; yet he distinctly +felt the barrier between them. He was conscious now that this barrier +had existed for some time, and he found it difficult to explain to +himself why he had only recently become aware of it. Helen's +conversations with him came back with renewed force and vital meaning. +He had resented it when she had told him that his work at the library +had made him indifferent to everything else, yet she had been quite +right in what she said. He had wilfully misunderstood her efforts to +bring him back to himself, and had openly blamed her for faults which +existed only in his own neglect. He had accused her of being jealous of +his intimacy with Miss Thayer, yet her attitude toward Inez was a +constant refutation. He had treated her even with incivility and +unpardonable irritability. + +The fault was his, he admitted, yet were there not extenuating +circumstances? No one could have foreseen how completely engrossed he +was to become in his work, or the extent of the mastery which the spell +of this old-time learning was to gain over him. Naturally, he would have +avoided it had he foreseen it; but once under its influence he had been +carried forward irresistibly, unable to withdraw, unwilling to oppose. +And yet he had boasted of his strength! + +"You have become infinitely bigger and stronger and grander," Helen had +said to him, even when her heart was breaking, "and I admire you just so +much the more." + +Armstrong winced as these words came home to him. With so much real +cause for complaint and upbraiding, Helen had gently tried to show him +his shortcomings, tempering her comment with expressions full of loyalty +and affection. + +But on one point she had been wholly wrong. It was natural that she +should have misinterpreted the intimacy which a community of interests +had brought about between Miss Thayer and himself. Inez was, of course, +much stronger intellectually than Helen, and by reason of this was far +better fitted to assist him in his own intellectual expressions. But +their intimacy had never extended beyond this even in thought or +suggestion. Helen had insisted that Inez was in love with him, and he +had tried to show her the absurdity of her suspicion. Here, at least, he +had been in the right. Throughout their close association, and even +after Helen had spoken, he had never discovered the slightest evidence +that any such affection existed. The still unexplained remarks of the +contessa's might or might not be significant. Emory, of course, was +prejudiced, and his comments did not require serious consideration. Miss +Thayer's refusal to continue the work, the comparative infrequency of +her visits to his sick-chamber--in fact, everything went to show how far +Helen had wandered from the actual facts. + +Armstrong found some comfort in this conclusion. With Helen so +unquestionably wrong in this hypothesis, it of course went without +saying that she was equally wrong in what she had said later. She +believed that he had a career before him. Cerini had said the same +thing, Miss Thayer had said so--and Armstrong himself believed, in the +consciousness of having completed an unusual piece of work, that such a +possibility might exist. He felt no conceit, but rather that +overpowering sense of hopefulness which comes to a man as a result of +successful endeavor--not yet crowned, but completed to his own +satisfaction. If this career was to be his, he could not follow Helen's +assumption that it must separate them. That was, of course, as +ridiculous as her feelings about Inez. Success for him must mean the +same to her, his wife. When the right time came he would take up these +two points specifically with her and show her the error which had misled +her. + +This self-examination covered several days. At first Armstrong found +himself unable to think long at a time without becoming mentally +wearied; but by degrees his mind gained in vigor, and proved fully equal +to the demands made upon it. The details of what had happened on the day +of the accident came back to him one by one up to the point of the +accident itself, but he felt annoyed that he could not learn more of +this. From Helen, Uncle Peabody, and the doctor he knew of the early +belief that he had been killed and of the excitement caused by his +revived respiration. Of his period of delirium, the nurse had given him +more information than the others; but of the break between the moment +when the car struck the wall, and the time when Helen arrived upon the +scene, Miss Thayer alone held the key. Armstrong's curiosity regarding +this interval was, perhaps, heightened by the evident aversion which she +felt to discussing it. To mention the subject in her presence was +certain to drive her from the room, her face blazing with color, her +body trembling in every nerve. + +The patient was able to move about a little by this time, and at the +close of each day he found relief from the monotony of his room and the +veranda by short walks in the garden, rich in its midsummer gorgeousness +of color. A couch had been placed near the retaining wall, so that he +could rest upon it whenever he felt fatigued. Between his solicitude +concerning the situation with Helen, and his determination to discover +from Miss Thayer the occasion of her remarkable attitude, his thoughts +were fully occupied. + +On this particular afternoon Armstrong had thrown himself upon the +couch, and for a moment closed his eyes. With no warning he saw a scene +enacted before his mental vision in which he himself was the central +figure. He was lying still and lifeless upon the grass by the roadside +at the foot of the hill. Four other figures were in the picture. He +recognized Inez, but the other women and the boy he had never seen. The +figures moved about, as in a kinetoscope. One of the women ran into the +cottage and returned with a basin of water. Inez knelt beside him and +bathed his forehead. He could see the tense expression on her face. She +seemed to speak to the women, but he could distinguish no words. Then he +saw himself lifted and carried into the cottage. At this point the +picture disappeared as suddenly as it had come. + +Armstrong opened his eyes when he found the picture gone, and sat up, +gazing about him excitedly. He saw Inez crossing the veranda and called +to her abruptly. + +"Tell me," he cried, as she hastened to obey the summons and before she +reached him, "who carried me into the cottage after the accident?" + +The girl paled at the suddenness and intensity of the question. "There +were four of us," she said, faintly--"two peasant women, a boy, and +myself." + +Armstrong passed his hand over his forehead and gazed at Inez intently. +So far, then, his vision had been correct. Breathlessly he pursued his +interrogations. + +"Before that did one of the women bring some water from the cottage, and +did you kneel beside me and bathe my face?" + +"Yes. Who has told you?" + +"Then it all happened just like that?" + +"Like what?" Inez was trembling, vaguely apprehensive. + +Armstrong rose. "Why, as you have just said," he replied. "You know I +have been trying to get you to tell me about it." + +"You are unkind," Inez retorted, quickly. "You know how much all mention +of this pains me, yet you persist." + +"Forgive me." Armstrong controlled himself and held out his hand kindly. +"I don't mean to hurt you, believe me, but my mind is ever searching out +that connecting link. You won't tell me about it, so I suppose I shall +never find it." + +She started to reply, but as quickly checked herself. "There is nothing +for me to tell," she said, at length, without looking up. "I will send +Helen to you," she added, as she hastened away. + +Armstrong again threw himself upon the couch, and, trying to assume the +same position, closed his eyes in a vain endeavor to summon back the +vision he had seen. If it had only continued a little longer he might +have learned all! The fugitive nature of his quest proved a fascination, +and day after day he exerted every effort to gratify his whim. + +Inez clearly avoided him. Whether or not this was apparent to the other +members of the family he could not tell, but it was quite obvious to +him. There must be some reason beyond what he knew, and he had almost +stumbled upon it! Another week passed by, more rapidly than any since +his convalescence began because of the determination with which he +pursued his baffling problem. + +Again he lay upon his couch in the garden, his eyes closed, but with +his mind fixed upon its one desire. Suddenly he felt the presence of +some one. A thrill of expectation passed through him, but he dared not +open his eyes lest the impression should disappear. For what seemed a +long time he was conscious of this person standing beside him, and he +knew that whoever it might be was gazing at him intently. Then he felt a +hand gently take his arm, which was hanging over the side of the couch, +and, raising it carefully, place it in a more comfortable position. Then +the hand rested for a moment on his forehead. + +Opening his eyes a little, as if by intuition, he saw Miss Thayer +tiptoeing along the path toward the house. He closed his eyes again, and +as he did so he felt a sudden return of the subconscious impression. + +Now, in his mind's eye he saw a cheaply furnished room, and Miss Thayer +leaning, with ashen face and dishevelled hair, against a closed door. He +saw her sink upon the floor and pass through a paroxysm of grief. She +murmured some incoherent words, and then stood erect, looking straight +at him as he lay upon the bed. Then she lifted his arm, just as she had +a moment before, and covered his hand with kisses, sobbing the while +with no attempt at control. + +"Speak to me!" he seemed to hear her say. "Tell me that you are not +dead!" He could feel the intensity of her gaze even as he lay there. +"Jack, my beloved; you are mine, dear--do you hear?--and I am yours." +Beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead. "How I have loved you +all these weeks!... Now I can tell you of it, dear--it will do no harm!" + +Held by a force he could not have broken had he wished, Armstrong +watched the progress of the tragedy. + +"My darling, my beloved!" he heard Inez whisper; "open your eyes just +once, and tell me that I may call you mine if only for this one terrible +moment.... This is our moment, dear--no one can take it from us!... Have +you not seen how I have loved you, how I have struggled to keep you from +knowing it?... Jack! Jack! this is the beginning and the end!" + +He could endure the scene no longer. With a look of horror on his face, +he sprang to his feet and glanced about him. He was alone in the garden. +He stumbled rather than walked to the retaining wall, and rested against +it for support. + +"Great God!" he cried, aloud, "have I regained my mind only to lose it +again?" + +He glanced toward the house. There was no one in sight, but Helen was +playing Debussy's "Claire de Lune" upon the piano in the hall, and the +sound of the music soothed him. + +"Dreams--hallucinations," he repeated to himself. "God! what an +experience!" + + + + +XXVI + + +With Armstrong's convalescence progressing so satisfactorily, Helen +returned to her music with a clear conscience. She was determined that +the influence upon him of her personal presence should be reduced as +nearly as possible to a minimum. Naturally, during the period of his +illness and the attendant weakness, she had been with him almost +constantly; naturally he had turned to her with what seemed to be his +former affection. But the die was cast, and the accident which for the +time being interrupted the progress of events predestined to occur could +in no way prevent their final accomplishment. Helen thought often of +Uncle Peabody's optimistic suggestion that the present condition was +bound to straighten matters out, but she refused to be buoyed up by +false hopes, only to suffer a harder blow when once again Armstrong +became what she believed to be himself. She saw no gain in tuning up the +heart-strings to their former pitch, when neither she nor Jack could +again play upon them with any degree of harmony. + +Helen was with her husband for whatever portion of the day he needed +her, whether it was to read aloud to him, or to converse, or to wander +about the garden. She served each meal to him with her own hands, and +watched the progress of his improvement so carefully that nothing +remained undone. Yet, with deliberate intention, she was with him no +more than this. Whenever she found him interested in something or with +some one who engaged his attention for the time being, she slipped away +so quietly that he scarcely noticed it and devoted herself to her own +interests, which she was desperately trying to make fill the void in her +life. Her music was her greatest solace, for in it she found a response +to her every mood. In the dim-lit hall of the villa she sat for hours at +the piano, her fingers running over the keys, her mind pondering upon +her complex problem--each action apparently separated from the other, +yet in exact accord. Sometimes it was a nocturne of Chopin's, sometimes +an impromptu of Schubert's; but always she found in the unspoken, poetic +expression of the composer's soul an answering sympathy which was +lacking in other forms more tangible. + +Inez interrupted one of these communions, when Helen supposed herself +alone with Debussy. Lately she had found herself turning to the charm +and mystery of his atmosphere, the strangeness of his idiom, the +vagueness of his rhythms, and the fugitive grace and fancy of his +harmonic expression with an understanding and a surrender which she had +never before felt. The music reflected upon her its delicate perception +of nature in all its moods--the splash of the waves upon the shore, the +roaring of the surf, the gloom of the forests relieved by the moonlight +on the trees. + +"Don't, Helen--I beg of you!" Inez exclaimed, suddenly. "Say it to me, +but don't torture me with those weird reproaches. Every note almost +drives me wild!" + +"Why, Inez, dear!" cried Helen, startled by the girl's words no less +than by the suddenness of the interruption. "What in the world do you +mean? You should have told me before if my playing affected you so." + +"I love it, Helen," she replied; "but lately it has hurt me through and +through. I can hear your voice echoing in every note you strike, and I +feel its bitter reproach." + +Helen tried to draw Inez beside her, but the girl sank upon the floor, +resting her elbows on Helen's knees and looking up into her face with +tense earnestness. + +"You have been terribly unstrung these days, dear," Helen replied, "and +you are unstrung now or you would not discover what does not exist. It +is your instinctive sympathy for poor Melisande that makes you feel +so--you see her, as I do, floating resistlessly over the terraces and +fountains, the plaything of Fate, a phantom of love and longing and +uncertainty. That is what you feel, dear." + +Helen took Inez' face between her hands and looked into her eyes for a +moment. "People call it mystical and unreal," she continued, "but I +believe that some of us have it in our own lives, don't you?" + +Inez did not reply directly, and struggled to escape the searching gaze. + +"Helen," she said, abruptly, "I simply cannot stay on here; I shall go +mad if I do. Each time I suggest going you say that you need me, and it +seems ungrateful, after all you have done for me, to speak as I do. But +you cannot understand. I am not myself, and I am getting into a +condition which will make me a burden to you instead of a help." + +"I do need you, dear," Helen replied, quietly, "but certainly not at +the expense either of your health or your happiness. The effects of the +accident have lasted much longer than I thought they would. I wanted you +to be quite recovered before you left us." + +"If the accident were all!" moaned Inez, burying her face in Helen's +lap. + +Helen made no response, but laid her hand kindly upon Inez' head. After +a few moments the girl straightened up. Her eyes burned with the +intensity of her sudden resolve, and she spoke rapidly, as if fearful +that her courage would prove insufficient for the task she had set for +herself to do. + +"Helen!" she cried, "I am going to tell you something which will make +you hate me. You will want me to leave you, and our friendship will be +forever ended." + +"Wait, dear," urged Helen--"wait until you are calmer; then, if you +choose, tell me all that you have in your heart." + +"No; I must tell you now. I love Jack, Helen--do you understand? I love +your husband, and, fight it as I do, I cannot help it. Think of having +to make a confession like that!" + +Helen's face lighted up with glad relief. + +"I am so glad that you have told me this," she said, quietly. + +Inez gazed at Helen in wonder, amazed by her calmness and her unexpected +words. + +"But I must tell you more," she continued, wildly; "I have loved him for +weeks--almost since I first came here!" + +"I know you have, Inez." Helen pressed a kiss upon the girl's forehead. +"I have known it for a long time; but I have also seen your struggle +against it, and your loyalty to me--and to him." + +"You have known it?" Inez asked, faintly. Then her voice strengthened +again. "But you have not known all! I did fight against it, as you say, +and I was loyal until"--her voice broke for a moment--"until that day of +the accident--in the cottage--I thought him dead--" + +"Yes," encouraged Helen, eagerly. + +"Until then I was loyal, but when I was alone with him, and thought him +dead, I--oh, Helen, you will hate me as I hate myself--then I kissed +him, and I told him of my love, and I--" + +"Yes, I know, dear," Helen interrupted, her voice full of tenderness. +"No one can blame you for what you did under such awful circumstances. I +suspected what had happened when I found you where you had fainted +across his body. But you can't imagine how glad I am that you have told +me all this. I felt sure you would, some day." + +"You will let me go now, won't you? You can see how impossible it is for +me to stay." + +"I need you now more than ever," replied Helen, firmly. "If you insist +on leaving I shall not urge you to stay, but even you--knowing what you +do--cannot know how much I need you." + +"How did you know?" Inez asked, weakly. + +"From what Ferdy said first, then from what I saw myself." + +"Why did you not send me away, then?" + +"I had no right to do so, Inez." + +"Of course you were perfectly sure of Jack." + +Helen winced. "Yes," she replied, quietly; "I was sure of Jack." + +"But you understand now that I really cannot stay?" + +"Jack needs you still." + +"No; his manuscript is complete. He will not need me for the revision." + +"You would stay if he did?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Then if you would stay if he needed you, surely you will do the same +for me?" + +"Oh, Helen!" + +"Will you? When Jack is quite himself again I will urge no longer. Now +that you have told me this, it will be easier for you. Will you not do +this for me?" + +"There is nothing I would not do for you, Helen!" cried Inez, throwing +her arms impulsively around her friend's neck and kissing her +passionately. "You are so strong you make me more ashamed than ever of +my own weakness." + +"Thank you, dear," Helen replied, simply, returning her embrace; "but +don't make any mistake about my strength. It is because I lack it so +sadly that I ask you to stay." + + * * * * * + +Dr. Montgomery found Armstrong's temperature considerably higher when he +called later in the day, after the disquieting mental experience his +patient had passed through. Armstrong also appeared to be preoccupied, +and more interested in asking questions than in answering them. For the +first time he seemed to be curious in regard to the nature of his +illness. + +"In a case like mine, is it possible for the mental convalescence to be +retarded or to go backward?" he asked. + +"Yes," Dr. Montgomery replied, "it is possible, but hardly probable, +especially with a patient who has progressed so normally as you have." + +"It is normal for the memory to have a complete lapse, as in my case?" + +"Absolutely so." + +"Is it possible for a knowledge of the events which occurred during such +a lapse to be restored--say, weeks afterward?" + +"Yes; under certain conditions." + +"And those conditions are?" asked Armstrong, eagerly. + +The doctor settled back in his chair. + +"Let me see if I can make it clear to you: all memories are +permanent--that is to say, every event makes a distinct, even though it +may be an unconscious, impression upon the brain. Sometimes these +memories remain dormant for months, or even years, before something +occurs to bring them to mind; but even before this the memories are +there, just the same." + +"But you are speaking of every-day occurrences, are you not? My question +is whether or not it might be possible for me, for example, to have a +reviving knowledge of certain events which took place during a period of +apparent unconsciousness." + +"I understand. Yes, it would be quite possible for this to happen." + +"What would be necessary to bring it about?" + +Dr. Montgomery smiled at his patient's earnestness. + +"Are you so eager to recall that period? But the question is a fair one. +Some incident must take place similar to something which occurred during +the unconscious period in order to revive the dormant memory. I doubt if +you could do it deliberately." + +"I have no intention of trying," Armstrong replied; "but I am +interested in this particular phase of the case. Suppose, during the +apparently unconscious period, some one had lifted my arm or placed a +hand upon my forehead--would the same act be enough to restore the +dormant memory, as you call it?" + +"Quite enough--though it would not necessarily do so. I have known +several cases where the repetition of such an act has produced just the +result which you describe." + +"And these revived impressions are apt to be trustworthy?" + +"As a photographic plate," replied the doctor, emphatically. + +Armstrong was silent for some moments. + +"It is an interesting phase, as you say," he remarked, at length. "I +think I may try the experiment, after all." + +"The chances will be against you; but I imagine you have been pretty +well informed of what has happened. Don't try to think too hard. It will +be all the better for you to give your brain a little rest; it has had a +hard shaking-up." + +So this was the solution of the mystery for which he had sought so +long! Armstrong found himself in a curious position after the doctor +took his departure, leaving behind him a new knowledge of affairs which, +six hours before, his patient would have considered absolutely +preposterous. Helen was right, and had been right from the beginning. +His one consolation was removed, and in its place was a complication +which seemed past straightening out. To the blame which Armstrong had +already taken to himself on Helen's account, he must now add the +responsibility of having inspired this sentiment in Inez' heart, which +meant unhappiness to all. Even though this had been done unconsciously, +he told himself, it was no less culpable in that he had not himself +discovered the situation and checked it before any serious harm had been +done. Helen had seen it, the contessa had seen it, and he wondered how +many others. He had been blind in this, criminally blind, and now he +must pay the penalty. + +But this penalty could not be borne by him alone--he could see that +clearly. Helen and Inez were both hopelessly involved. And what a woman +his wife had shown herself to be! Knowing of this affection on the part +of Inez, she had suffered them to continue together in order that his +work might not be disturbed. She had told him just how matters +stood--not with recriminations, but with loving solicitude, offering to +sacrifice herself, if necessary, to secure his happiness, drinking her +cup of sorrow to the dregs, and alone! It was plain enough to him now. +He thought of Helen as she was when they first came to Florence, and +compared her with the Helen of to-day. He had brought about that change; +he alone was responsible for it. She had craved the present, with its +sunshine, its birds, its happiness, and instead of all this he had +filled it for her with nothing but sorrow and suffering! He merited the +scoring Emory gave him, even though the denunciation had gone too far. + +As the bandage fell from his eyes, the character which he had assumed +during these past months stood out clearly before him, shorn of its +academic halo, and pitiful in its unfulfilled ideals. He had sought to +join that company of humanists who had awakened the world to the joy and +beauty of intellectual attainment. He had believed himself worthy of +this honor, in that he believed he had understood and sympathized with +their underlying motives. So he had in principle, but how wofully he had +failed in his efforts to carry them out! Instead of assimilating the +happy youthfulness of the Greek, together with the Grecian harmony of +existence, he had developed his morbid self-centering and +self-consciousness. His blind, unreasoning devotion to his single +interest had resulted in folly and fanaticism. He had overlooked the +cardinal element in the humanistic creed that knowledge without love +meant death and isolation. Instead of singling out and joining together +the beauties for which humanism stood, he had embraced and emphasized +its limitations. + +"I am an impostor!" Armstrong exclaimed, no longer able to endure his +mental lashing in silence--"an arrant impostor! I have set myself up as +a modern apostle, I have written platitudes upon intellectual supremacy +and the religion of knowledge, when the one single personal attribute to +which I can justly lay claim is insufferable academic arrogance. I have +seized a half-truth and fortified it with fact; and in accomplishing +this stupendous piece of fatuous nonsense I have stultified myself and +destroyed the happiness of all!" + + + + +XXVII + + +Armstrong's first act, on the following day, was to send to the library +for his manuscript. Helen looked upon this as an evidence that with his +returning strength had also come a return of his all-controlling +passion. This was a natural explanation of the peculiar change which she +had noticed in him during the past few days, and his request fitted in +so perfectly with a conversation between Uncle Peabody and herself the +evening before that she almost unconsciously exchanged with him a glance +of mutual understanding. + +But the real motive was quite at variance with her interpretation. +Armstrong had passed through his period of introspection without taking +any one into his confidence. Fierce as the struggle had been, he felt +instinctively that his only chance of restoring conditions to anything +which even approached equilibrium was to make no new false step. He had +come to certain definite conclusions, but was still undecided as to the +proper methods to be adopted in his attempt to turn these conclusions +into realities. + +First of all, he had placed himself in an entirely false position with +Helen. He had given her cause to believe him indifferent and neglectful. +This, at least, he argued, could be remedied, even though it was now too +late to spare her the suffering through which she had passed. But he +could explain it all, and by his future devotion to her, and to those +interests of which she was a part, he could make her forget the past. + +With Miss Thayer the proposition was a different one. To her he had done +an injury which could not be repaired. He had sought to take her with +him into a world full of those possibilities which the intellectual +alone can comprehend. Instead of leaving her there, inspired by the +wisdom of such an intercourse, he had--unconsciously but still +culpably--developed in her an interest in himself. The problem was to +extricate her and himself from this compromising situation without +destroying all future self-respect for them both; and the solution of it +seemed far beyond his reach. + +And besides all this, there was the manuscript. Despite his best +endeavor, he could not recall even an outline of what he had written. +After a full realization came to him of the extent to which he had +misunderstood and misconstrued the basic principles of humanism itself, +his interest in his work became one of curiosity to learn by actual +examination how far he had accepted the half-truths, and how far he had +wandered from the path which he had thought he knew so well. The whole +volume must be filled with absurd theories, falsely conceived and as +falsely expressed. He must go over it, page by page, and learn from it +the bitter fact of his unworthiness to stand as the modern expounder of +those great minds whose influence alone should have been enough to hold +him to his appointed course. + +When the manuscript arrived he devoted himself to it with an eagerness +which added to the natural misunderstanding of his motive. With no word +of comment, he took the package to his room, where, after bolting the +door, he opened it and applied himself to his task. Hours passed by, but +he refused to be interrupted. Helen tried to persuade him to come +down-stairs for luncheon, but he begged to be excused. Uncle Peabody +calmed her anxiety; so the day passed, leaving him alone with his +burdens. + +Armstrong approached his manuscript with bitterness of spirit. This was +the tangible form of that inexplicable force which had drawn him away +from those ties which stood to him for all future peace and serenity; +this had been the medium which had fostered the new affection so fraught +with sorrow and even danger; this was the proof of his absolute lack of +harmony with those noble principles which he still felt, when rightly +expressed, represented the highest possibilities of life itself. At +first he hesitated to read it, dreading what it must disclose. Then he +attacked it fiercely, passing from page to page with feverish intensity. + +As he read, his bitterness and dread disappeared, and in their place +came first surprise and then amazement. Was this his manuscript? Had he +written these pages in which the real, wholesome, glorious spirit of +past attainment and present possibilities fairly lived and breathed! His +amazement turned into absolute mystification. He read of the important +movement which liberated the rich humanities of Greece and Rome from the +proscription of the Church; he saw literature itself expand in subject +and in quantity; he himself felt the sundering of the bonds of +ignorance, superstition, and tradition which had previously confined +intellectual life on all sides. + +Surely this was a simple yet sane presentation of the subject, +Armstrong said to himself, as it had formulated itself in words after +his long study. His error must lie in his application of it to the +people. The manuscript unfolded rapidly under his eager inspection. It +told him of the great step forward when writing changed to printing. He +followed the convincing argument that this new art from its earliest +beginnings was to be identical with that of culture, and a faithful +index to the standards of the ages to come. It told him that the advent +of the printing-press made men think, and gave them the opportunity of +studying description and argument where previously they had merely gazed +at pictorial design. He could see the development of the people under +this new influence, growing strong in self-reliance, and confident in +their increasing power. + +He found himself unable to condemn his work thus far. In application, as +in definition, what he had written seemed to ring true. Later on he must +find expressions of those distorted ideals in the manuscript, just as he +had found them in himself. With increasing interest he read of the +benefits these people of the _quattrocento_ reaped from the principles +of Grecian civilization, now tempered by the inevitable filtering +through the great minds of a century. With no uncertain note the +manuscript portrayed the efforts made by this people to reach the +unattainable, refusing to be bound down by limited ideals, and creating +masterpieces in every art which expressed in the highest form the +ethical spirit of the period. + +The pages still turned rapidly. At times Armstrong became so absorbed +that he forgot himself and the fact that he was analyzing the outpouring +of his own soul. Then he recalled the present and the problem before +him. He could not comprehend that this work was his own; he did not +remember writing it; he was ignorant of the particular study or +reasoning which had brought it forth. But there the words stood, in his +own handwriting, a visible evidence of something which had actually +taken place. + +As the reading progressed, he became more and more bewildered. It was +direct and convincing. The subject was handled with restraint, and yet +he felt the force behind each sentence. Suddenly his eye fell upon this +paragraph: + +"After giving due credit to humanism for its vast contribution to the +arts and to literature, there yet remains to acknowledge the greatest +debt of all: it taught man to hold himself open to truth from every +side, and so to assimilate it that it became a part of his very life +itself. Thus making himself inclusive of all about him, his attitude +toward his fellow-man could not be other than sympathetic and +appreciative." + +Armstrong read this over a second time, and, bending forward, he rested +his head upon his hands in the midst of the sheets of manuscript and +groaned aloud. This was his acknowledgment of the great lesson of +humanism, and yet he had not applied it to his own every-day life! "It +taught man to hold himself open to truth from every side," he repeated +to himself. "Thus making himself inclusive of all about him, his +attitude toward his fellow-man could not be other than sympathetic and +appreciative." + +At length he raised his head, and, rising wearily, he walked to the +window, drawing in the refreshing air. The strain had been intense, and +he found himself utterly exhausted. + +"I see it all," he said, bitterly; "the fault is not with the book or +with the principles themselves--it is with me! I have written better +than I knew; I have preached where I have not practised. Oh, Helen--oh, +Inez! Can I ever undo the wrong I have done you both!" + + + + +XXVIII + + +It was several days before Armstrong found himself ready to take up the +unravelling of the thread. The shuttle had moved to and fro so silently, +and its web was woven with so intricate a pattern, that he felt the +hopelessness even of finding an end of the yarn, where he might begin +his work. He watched the two girls in their every-day life as they moved +about him; he studied them carefully, he compared their personal +characteristics. Both were greatly changed. Miss Thayer continued ill at +ease and unlike her former self in her relations to Helen and Uncle +Peabody as well as toward himself. He felt that now he understood the +reason; and beyond this it was natural that she should miss the +absorbing interest which the work had given her, coming, as it did, to +so abrupt an end and leaving nothing which could take its place. + +But Helen had changed more. The girlish vivacity which had previously +characterized her had disappeared, and in its place had come a quiet, +reposeful dignity which, while it made her seem an older woman, would +have appealed to him as wonderfully becoming save for the restraint +which accompanied it. She held herself absolutely in hand. Her every +action, while considerate in its relation to others, admitted of no +denial. Armstrong felt instinctively rather than because of anything +which had happened that were their wills to clash now hers would prove +the stronger. There had been a development in her far beyond anything he +had realized. + +Comparing the two, as he had ample opportunity to do, he wondered if he +had made a fair estimate of her strength in his previous considerations. +Helen had considered herself unfitted to enter into his work with him. +She had frankly stated her unwillingness to go back into the past, and +to live among its memories, when the present offered an alternative +which was to her so much more attractive. Inez seized with avidity the +opportunity he offered, and had entered into his work with an enthusiasm +second only to his own. Suppose Helen had done this, Armstrong asked +himself. With her characteristics, as he was only now coming to +understand them, she would not long have remained content to act as his +agent--she would have become a definite part of the work herself, and +would have helped to shape it, instead of yielding more and more to his +own personality. Inez had helped him much, and his obligation to her was +not overlooked; but he could see how this helpfulness had lessened, day +by day, as her intellect had become subservient to his own. He had been +glad of this at the time, but now he found himself asking whether Helen +would not have shown greater strength under the same circumstances. + +Since his accident the contrast had been greater. Helen had assumed +definite control over everything. Inez, Uncle Peabody, Armstrong himself +recognized in her, without expression, the acknowledged and undisputed +head of affairs. It had all come about so naturally, and Helen herself +seemed so unconscious of it, that he could not explain it. On the other +hand, Inez had completely lost her nerve. The crisis through which the +two girls had passed had produced upon them vastly differing effects, +and Armstrong could not fail to be impressed by the result of his +observations. + +Finally he determined to talk the matter over with Helen, and here again +he found himself counting upon her assistance in straightening things +out with Inez. Had he realized it, this was the first time in his life +that he had admitted even to himself that any one could aid him in any +matter which he could not personally control. Dimly, it is true, but +still definitely, he was conscious that he was making an unusual +admission, yet he experienced a certain amount of gratification in doing +so. + +Helen had been reading aloud to him while he reclined upon his couch in +a shady corner of the veranda. For some moments he had heard nothing of +the spoken words, for his eyes, resting fixedly upon his wife's face, +revealed to him a more impressive story than that contained within the +printed volume. How beautiful she was! The clear-cut profile; the long +lashes hiding from him the deep, responsive eyes, whose sympathy he well +knew; the soft, sweet voice which fell upon his ear with soothing +cadence; the whole harmonious bearing, indicative of a character well +defined, yet unconscious of its strength--all combined to show him at a +single glance how rare a woman she really was. As he watched her the +definition which he himself had written came back to him with tremendous +force. "It taught man to hold himself open to truth from every side. +Thus making himself inclusive of all about him, his attitude toward his +fellow-man could not be other than sympathetic and appreciative." What +man or woman had he ever known who so truly lived up to this high +standard as this girl who sat beside him, all unconscious of the tumult +raging in his mind? + +Then the storm passed from his brain to his heart. His affection, +intensified by the struggles he had experienced, overpowered him, and he +cried aloud in a voice which startled Helen by the suddenness of its +appeal. Seizing her disengaged hand, he pressed it passionately to his +lips. + +"Don't read any more," he begged; "I must talk with you." + +Startled almost to a degree of alarm, she laid down the book, regarding +him intently. + +"Can you ever forgive me for all I have made you suffer?" he continued, +in the same tense voice; "can you ever believe that my forgetfulness of +everything which was due you was not deliberate, but the result of some +force beyond my control?" + +Helen looked at him steadily for a moment before replying. "Yes," she +said, at length, making a desperate effort to preserve her composure; "I +forgive you gladly. Shall we go on with the story?" + +"No!" he replied, almost fiercely, seizing the volume and placing it +beyond her reach upon the couch. "I have been waiting for this moment +too long, and now nothing shall take it from me." + +Helen realized that it was also the moment for which she had been +waiting, and which she had been dreading beyond expression. Now he would +comprehend what she had meant, now he would struggle with her to prevent +her from doing what she knew she must do. + +"There is no need of explanation, Jack," she said, at length. "I +understand everything, and have understood for a long time." + +"Can you believe that I myself have only recently come to a +realization?" + +"Yes; it has come to you sooner than I had expected." + +"Can you believe how sincerely pained I am that all this should have +happened?" + +"I have never for a moment thought that you would intentionally hurt +me." + +"Then you do understand, and will forget?" + +Armstrong sat up on the edge of the couch and watched Helen's face +intently. + +"You don't know what you are asking," she replied, dropping her eyes. + +"Yes, I do," he insisted. "I want to blot out the memory of every pang I +have caused you by a devotion beyond anything you have ever dreamed." + +"Don't, Jack," protested Helen. + +"Why not? Don't you think I mean it? From now on I have no interest +except you, dear; and I will make you forget everything which has +happened." + +Helen pressed his hand gratefully, and then withdrew her own. + +"This is only going to open everything up again," she said, in a low, +strained voice, "and that will be simply another great mistake." + +"You don't believe me." Armstrong's voice was reproachful. + +"I believe you feel all that you say now, Jack." + +"But--" + +"But you are not yourself now; that is all." + +"I am quite myself; in fact, I am almost as good as new." + +"I don't mean physically." + +"And mentally as well. My mind is as clear as it ever was." + +"I know, Jack; but you are far away from the influence which has so +controlled you. That is what I mean." + +"It is a mighty good thing that I am." Armstrong spoke with emphasis. + +"For the time being, no doubt; but soon you will be able to return to +it." + +"I shall never return to it." + +Helen looked up quickly. Armstrong's words were spoken so forcibly that +they startled her. + +"You must go back to it," she replied, with equal emphasis; "it is your +life, and you must go back." + +"I have passed through the experience once and for all time." + +Helen found it difficult not to be affected by the convincing tone. + +"I have made more mistakes than you know of." + +"In your work, do you mean?" + +"Yes." + +"But this is only the first draft; you can easily correct them." + +"They could be more easily corrected in the book than where they are." + +"I don't understand." + +"The mistakes are in me!" Armstrong cried. "I am no humanist; I am an +impostor!" + +"Jack! Jack!" Helen was really alarmed. "You are putting too much of a +tax upon yourself. Remember, you are not well yet." + +"I am worse than an impostor," Armstrong continued, excitedly, refusing +to be checked: "I am a traitor to the very cause I set myself to +further! I have been false in my duty to it, as I have been in my +obligations to you." + +"That is just the point," Helen interrupted. "I absolved you of your +obligations to me weeks ago, so that part of it is all settled." + +"But I did not absolve myself. I don't understand what I did or why I +did it. Day by day I felt myself slipping further and further away from +you. I was not strong enough to appreciate what was taking place, and +was powerless to resist." + +"But I understood it even then," Helen continued. "I recognized that our +marriage was the first mistake, and decided that I would do my part +toward remedying the error with as little pain as possible." + +"Our marriage was no mistake, except my own unfitness to be your +husband!" Armstrong cried, bitterly. + +"Don't, Jack," Helen again pleaded. "You see, I have had a much longer +time to think the matter out." + +"I was all right until I came under the influence, which completely +changed me, just as you told me it did, time and again. Then, instead of +being developed by it as I should have been, I assimilated nothing but +its limitations and began to go backward." + +"You must have assimilated far more than that," Helen insisted, "for +your personal development through it all has been tremendous. Otherwise +this could not be." + +"Listen, Helen." Armstrong was desperate. "Let me tell you how far down +I have gone. You know how eager I was, when we first came, to accomplish +some great achievement. You know how much I admired the works and +personalities of those grand old characters of whom you have so often +heard me speak. Well, I took up my work. I studied these characters, I +wrote about them, I tried to assimilate their principles and to express +them in words. At length the work was finished. Cerini praised it, and I +felt that I had proved myself equal to the undertaking." + +"And so you had," Helen interrupted. "Cerini told me so himself." + +"Cerini knows nothing of how ignominiously I failed to apply these +principles to myself. He has read the noble platitudes with which my +book is filled; you have experienced the unworthy personal expressions +as they have appeared in my every-day life." + +"But you have said yourself that you could not help it." + +"I should have been able to; that is where I showed my utter unfitness +for the undertaking. Now do you understand?" + +"Yes, Jack," Helen replied, slowly, after a moment's pause, "I think I +do understand; but I also think that my understanding is clearer than +yours." + +"Does it not enable you to forgive me for it all?" + +"Yes--I have already told you that. What you have said is exactly what I +knew you must say when you had been long enough away from your work. I +have never felt this influence of which you have so often spoken, but I +have recognized its strength by what I have seen. I do not mean that you +need necessarily continue in your present intensity, but I do mean that +whether you recognize it or not this second nature is your real self." + +"But I tell you that I have no further interest in my work." + +"You think so, Jack, but you have been away from it for weeks. Perhaps +by returning home you could smother your love of it for a long time, but +it would be there just the same. And without it you could never express +your own individuality." + +"I would, at least, be the self you knew before we came here." + +"Yes, but only that. With all the pain, Jack, I have not been blind to +what it has done for you. With all the misapplication of the principles +which you mention you have gained so much that you could never be the +old self again. I could not respect you if you did. Surely it would not +be following the teachings of these grand spirits were you to live a +life below the standard which you have shown yourself capable of +maintaining." + +"Then let us live that life together, Helen," Armstrong begged; "let us +begin all over again, taking my mistakes as guiding-posts to keep us +from the dangers against which I have not been strong enough, alone, to +guard myself." + +"Oh, Jack!" Helen withdrew her hands and pressed them against her tired +temples. "Don't you see that this is simply repeating the mistake which +has caused all our trouble? Now, at this moment, we are to each other +just what we were when we became engaged, forgetful of all that has +occurred since. Why not recognize things as they really are, and spare +ourselves the added sorrow which must surely come?" + +"Can you not forgive what has happened since?" + +"I have forgiven all that there is to forgive; but I can't forget the +knowledge that has come to me." + +"What knowledge is there which refuses to be forgotten?" + +"A knowledge of your real self, Jack--and that self has never belonged +to me. It is as distinct and separate as if it were that of another man. +It has been developed apart from me; it is of such a nature that I +cannot become a part of it." + +"You are so great a part of it already, dear, that you could not sever +yourself from it." + +"No, Jack. It is your loyalty, your sense of duty, that is speaking now. +Or perhaps you are far enough away from what has happened not to see it +as clearly as I do. You have become a part of another life, and your +future belongs to that life and to the woman who has also become a part +of it." + +"You can't mean this, Helen. Think what you are saying!" + +"I do mean it, just as I meant it when I said so before, when you failed +to comprehend. It is Inez who must be your companion in this new life." + +Armstrong did not remonstrate, as he had done before. It was impossible +to misunderstand the conviction in Helen's voice. He could no longer +attribute it to jealousy or to caprice; he could no longer fail to +understand the meaning of her words. + +"I have fully deserved all this," he said, at length. "When you first +told me of Miss Thayer's feeling toward me I did not--I could +not--believe it. Never once, during all the hours we were together, was +there anything to confirm what you said." + +"You did not notice this any more than you noticed other things which +happened, Jack; you were too completely absorbed. But that does not +alter the fact, does it?" + +"No; the fact remains the same. It has only been since the accident +that I have realized it; and this is one of the two problems which I +have to straighten out." + +"Then you do know now that Inez loves you?" + +Armstrong bowed his head. + +"What is it that has at last convinced you?" + +He hesitated for a moment. "It seems uncanny, Helen, but I have been +'seeing things.'" + +She looked at him questioningly. "Seeing things?" she repeated. + +"Yes; you will think I have lost my mind again, just as I did; but the +doctor says it is not unusual. Inez was alone with me, after the +accident, you know, in the cottage." + +"Well?" encouraged Helen, breathlessly. + +"She thought me dead, and--this is brutal to repeat to you, Helen." + +"No, no--go on!" + +"Why, she said she loved me--that is all." + +"But you were unconscious, Jack--you did not know what was happening." + +"Not then, but later. It came to me yesterday, while lying on the +couch,--almost as in a vision. I spoke to the doctor about it, and he +said that sometimes such things do happen. If you had not told me what +you did I probably should have thought it nothing but an uncomfortable +dream, but as it was, of course I understood." + +"Are you sure now that it was no dream?" + +"Yes; I questioned Miss Thayer about some of the details--not the most +vital ones, of course--and she corroborated them. But telling you all +this will only make matters worse." + +"No, Jack; I know about it already. Inez has told me everything, and +the poor girl is distracted. I am glad that at last you are convinced." + +"You knew all this?" He looked at her in amazement. "You knew it, and +have let her stay here?" + +"It is right that she should remain," Helen answered, firmly. + +Armstrong's voice broke for a moment. "And I said you were jealous!" he +reproached himself. Then he continued his appeal. "But granting all +this, it cannot settle the matter, deeply as I deplore it. My own +blindness and stupidity are to blame for it, and I must accept the full +responsibility; but my love for you has never and could never be +transferred to her or to any one else. I have been criminally +neglectful, I have been culpably dense, but through it all you, and you +alone, have been in my heart. I have longed to say this to you even +while the spell was on me. I have longed to fold you in my arms and ease +the pain I have seen you suffer, but I found myself powerless in this as +in all else. Can you not--will you not--believe what I say?" + +Helen looked up into her husband's face before she replied. + +"Sometimes I wish you were not so conscientious, Jack--but of course I +don't mean that; only it would make it easier for me to adhere to my +determination to do what I know is right. I was sure that this moment +would arrive; I know your ideas of duty and loyalty, and I know that you +would sacrifice yourself and your future rather than be false to either. +I believe that you are sincere in thinking that your sentiments toward +Inez are purely platonic--I am sure they would be so long as you were +not free to have them otherwise." + +"Then why do you insist that they are otherwise?" + +"I don't insist--I am simply accepting things as they really are, even +though I must suffer by doing so. You are the only one who does not +realize it, unless it be Inez herself. Cerini told me, 'I have never +seen two individualities cast in so identical a mould.' Professor Tesso, +who saw you at work together at the library, said, 'There is a perfect +union of well-mated souls'; you yourself, when we returned from that +moonlight ride, said to her, 'You are the only one who understands me.' +It has simply been your absorption in your work and your loyalty to me +which has kept you from seeing it yourself." + +"Cerini said that--Tesso saw us at the library?" Armstrong looked at +Helen in bewilderment. "You thought my remark to Miss Thayer possessed +anything more than momentary significance?" His face assumed an +expression of still greater concern. "I have, indeed, been more culpable +than I realized. Is it not enough if I tell you that you are all +wrong--that I do not love any one except the one person I have a right +to love?" + +Helen smiled sadly. "No, Jack," she replied, kindly but firmly, "it is +all too clear. When you return to your real life, as you must do, you +will return to your real self as well. Then you will know that I have +saved you from the greatest mistake of all. You and Inez are meant for +each other, and always have been." She looked up with a brave but +unsuccessful attempt to smile. "Perhaps our little experience together +has been necessary in the development of us both, dear. If so, it will +make it easier to believe that our mutual suffering will not have been +in vain." + +"I will never accept it, Helen!" cried Armstrong, desperately in +earnest. "Your devotion to this false idea will do more than all I have +done to wreck our lives. You must listen to reason." + +"Don't make it any harder for me than it is," Helen begged, her voice +choking. "I am trying to talk calmly, and to do what I know I must do; +but I have been through so much already. Please don't make it any +harder." + +Armstrong longed to comfort her, but he knew that she would repulse him +if he tried. He watched the conflict through which the girl was passing +and was overwhelmed by the sense of his own responsibility. He realized +how near the tension was to the breaking-point, and dared not pursue the +subject further. Taking both her hands in his, he gazed long into her +eyes now filled with tears. + +"If to give you up is the necessary penalty for the sorrow I have +brought to you," he said, quietly, his voice breaking as he spoke, "it +shall be done--for your sake, no matter what it means to me; but my love +for you is beyond anything I have ever known before." + + + + +XXIX + + +There had been many visitors at the villa during Armstrong's illness and +convalescence. Cerini had called several times, being most solicitous +for the speedy recovery of his _protege_; and the Contessa Morelli, +temporarily thwarted in the solution of her problem, took advantage of +the proximity of her villa to be frequently on the spot, where she could +observe the progress of affairs under the suddenly changed conditions. + +Armstrong had long desired to question the contessa further in regard to +the disquieting conversation he had held with her upon the occasion of +their first meeting; but the rapidity with which his latent impressions +had become definite realities made him unwilling to allow any new +developments to add to the complexity of the situation as he had now +come to know it. After his interview with Helen, however, he was +convinced that matters had reached their climax, and he grasped any +additional information as possible material to be used in the solving of +his double dilemma. His opportunity came on the following day, when he +found himself alone with the contessa upon the veranda, Helen having +been called to another part of the villa by some household demand. + +After Helen had made her excuses, Armstrong felt himself to be the +subject of a careful scrutiny on the part of the contessa. He looked up +quickly and met her glance squarely. Amelie had a way of making those +she chose feel well acquainted with her, and Armstrong, during his +convalescence, had proved interesting. + +"Well," he asked, smiling, "what do you think of him?" + +It was the contessa's turn to smile, and the question caught her so +unexpectedly that the smile developed into a hearty laugh. + +"I have been trying to make up my mind," she replied, frankly. "At first +I thought him a human thinking-machine, all head and no heart, but I am +beginning to believe that my early impressions were at fault." + +"It gratifies me to hear you say that," Armstrong answered, calmly. "I +presume those early impressions of yours were formed at the library, +when Miss Thayer and I came under your observation." + +"Yes," replied the contessa, unruffled by the quiet sarcasm which she +could but feel. "You see, I have lived here in Italy for several years +and have become accustomed to the sight of saint worship; but it is a +novel experience to see the saint come down off his pedestal and prove +himself to have perfectly good warm blood coursing through his veins." + +"Don't you find it a bit difficult to picture me with all my worldly +attributes even as a temporary saint?" + +"Not at all," the contessa answered. "Most of the saints possessed +worldly attributes before they attained the dignity of statues. But +think of the confusion among their worshippers should they follow your +example and again assume the flesh! I imagine their embarrassment would +almost equal yours." + +Amelie spoke indifferently, but Armstrong felt the thrust. It was +evident that she had no idea of dropping the subject, and Jack saw +nothing else but to accept it as cheerfully as possible. + +"Why not say 'quite'?" he asked. + +"Because the saints were wifeless. Perhaps that is what made it possible +for them to be saints." + +Armstrong laughed in spite of himself. "If modern women were to be +canonized, you undoubtedly think they should be selected from the +married class?" + +"Canonizing hardly covers it," the contessa replied; "they belong among +the martyrs." + +"But you have not told me why you now feel that your early impressions +were in error," Armstrong resumed, sensing danger along the path which +they had almost taken, and really eager to learn how far his attitude +had impressed others. The contessa regarded him critically. + +"There are many kinds of men," she began, "and to a woman of the world +it is a necessity to classify those whom she meets." + +"Indeed?" queried Armstrong. "You are throwing some most interesting +side-lights upon a subject which my education has entirely overlooked." + +"Am I?" Amelie asked, innocently. "But your education has been so far +developed in other directions that you can easily recognize the +importance of what I say. A woman who meets the world face to face must +be able to estimate the elements against which she has to contend." + +"Into how many classes do you divide us?" Armstrong was interested in +her naive presentment. + +"The three principal divisions are, of course, single men, married men, +and widowers, but the subdivisions are really more important. For my own +use I find it more convenient to separate those I meet into four +classes--the interesting, the uninteresting, the safe, and the +dangerous." + +"You have developed an absolute system," Armstrong asserted. + +"Yes, indeed," Amelie responded, cheerfully; "without one you men would +have too distinct an advantage over us." + +"I wish you would enlarge on your classification a little more. It is +gratifying to me to know that members of my sex receive such careful +consideration." + +"Well, suppose we eliminate the uninteresting--they really don't count +except in considering matrimony; then we have to weigh the material +advantages they offer against their lack of interest. This brings us +down to the interesting and safe, and the interesting and dangerous." + +"Have I the honor to be included in one of these two classes?" + +"Yes," the contessa replied, frankly. + +"May I ask which? You see, my curiosity is getting the upper hand." + +Amelie threw back her head with a hearty laugh. "I was certainly wrong +in my first diagnosis," she said. "A man who was merely a +thinking-machine would possess no curiosity. Usually a learned man is +entirely safe." + +"Then you really consider me dangerous?" There was a tone in Armstrong's +voice which caused the contessa to look up at him quickly. + +"Most men would consider that a compliment, Mr. Armstrong." + +Receiving no reply, Amelie continued: + +"Your wife has such original ideas! I have found my acquaintance with +her positively refreshing." + +"How does this bear upon our present conversation?" Armstrong inquired, +still weighed down by the contessa's estimate of him. Amelie's frankness +showed that no doubt existed in her mind as to his attitude toward Miss +Thayer, and he felt that denials would be worse than useless. If +impressions such as these lay in the mind of a casual observer like the +contessa it was but natural that they should assume greater proportions +to Helen; and it was with a foreboding that he heard her name mentioned +in the present conversation. Amelie, however, could not sense the effect +of her words upon her companion. + +"Because we once discussed the same subject," she replied to his +question, "and her attitude was most unusual. She even said that were +she convinced that her husband really loved some other woman she would +step aside and give him a clear field." + +"Did she say that?" Armstrong demanded. + +"She did," asserted the contessa. "You are a very lucky man, Mr. +Armstrong," she continued, looking into his face meaningly; "my husband +is not so fortunate." + +While Armstrong hesitated in order to make no mistake in his reply, +Helen returned accompanied by Cerini, and the moment when he could have +formulated an answer had passed. The old man held up a finger +reproachfully as he saw the contessa. + +"You have never made another appointment to study those manuscripts with +me," he said, as he took her hand. "Tell me that your interest has not +flagged." + +The librarian spoke feelingly, although he tried to conceal his +disappointment. It was such a triumph that his work should appeal to one +so devoted to a life of social gayety. Amelie remembered her interview +with him at the library and felt that she deserved the reproach. + +"Surely not," she replied, with so much apparent sincerity in her voice +that the old man believed her and was mollified. "I have even received a +new impetus from listening to Mr. Armstrong's enthusiastic account of +his work with you and his impatience to return to it." + +Armstrong glanced quickly at Helen as the contessa attributed to him a +desire so opposed to the definite statement he had made the day before, +while Cerini smiled contentedly. Helen gave no sign of having +particularly noticed the remark, but Jack felt keenly his inability at +that moment to set himself right. + +"I was just about to take my departure," Amelie continued, "and I am +glad not to be obliged to leave the invalid alone. I know how delighted +you will be to take my place," she said to Cerini. + +The old man dropped into the chair the contessa left vacant, while +Armstrong watched the two figures until they disappeared in the hallway. +Then he turned to his friend--but it was to Cerini the priest, the +father-confessor, rather than to Cerini the librarian. He felt the +seriousness of the situation more acutely than at any time since a +realization of its complexity came to him. Cerini watched him curiously. + +"You are not so well to-day," he said, at length. "You must go slowly, +my son, and give Nature ample time to make her repairs." + +"I fear even Nature has no remedy sufficiently powerful to cure my +malady," Armstrong replied, bitterly. "I would to God she had!" + +Cerini was at a loss to understand his manner or his words. + +"What has happened?" he asked, sympathetically. "Is there some +complication of which I know not?" + +Armstrong bowed his head, overcome for the moment by an overwhelming +sense of his own impotency. + +"What is it?" urged the old man, himself affected by his companion's +attitude. "I have missed you sadly at the library these weeks, and I am +impatient for your return." + +"I shall never return!" cried Armstrong, fiercely. "I have proved myself +utterly unworthy of the work I undertook with you." + +"My son! my son!" Cerini was aghast at what he heard. Then his voice +softened as he thought he divined the explanation. + +"Slowly, slowly," he said, soothingly. "It is too soon to put so heavy a +burden upon your brain after the shock it has sustained. There is no +haste. Your friends at the library will be patient, as you must be." + +Armstrong easily read what was passing through the librarian's mind, and +it increased his bitterness against himself. Cerini's calmness, however, +quieted him, and he was more contained as he replied. + +"I wish that the facts were as you think," he said, decisively. "It +would be a positive relief to me if I could believe that my mind was +still unbalanced as a result of the accident, but it is so nearly +recovered that I must consider myself practically well. But I am glad of +this chance to tell you how we have both been deceived. It will be a +comfort to have you act as my confessor, and if your affection still +holds after my recital I know that you will advise me as to what future +course I must pursue." + +In tense, clear-cut sentences Armstrong poured out to Cerini the story +of the past months as he looked back upon them. He was frank in speaking +of what he believed to be his accomplishments, as he was pitiless in his +arraignment of himself in his failures. He showed how he had assimilated +the lessons of the past only in his capacity of scribe; he explained how +self-centred, selfish, and neglectful of his duty toward others he had +been in his personal life. He spoke freely of his companionship with +Miss Thayer, of her unquestioned affection for him, and of the +impressions which had been made upon Helen and the Contessa Morelli. He +insisted simply yet forcefully upon his own loyalty to Helen, not from a +sense of duty, as she firmly believed, but because his devotion had +never wavered. + +In speaking of his wife Armstrong went into minute detail, even going +back to his early attempts to interest her in what had later become his +grand passion. He described her personal attributes, her love of the +present rather than the past, her protective attitude toward her friend +even in the face of such distressing circumstances; her generosity +toward him; and finally her unalterable conviction that their separation +was imperative. + +Cerini listened in breathless silence as Armstrong's story progressed. +He himself had played a part in the drama of which his companion was +ignorant, and a sense of his own responsibility came to the old man with +subtle force. He recalled his first meeting with Helen at the library, +he remembered their later conversations, and in his contemplations he +almost forgot, for the moment, the man sitting in front of him in his +consideration of the splendid development, which he had witnessed +without fully realizing it, in this woman whom he had pronounced +unfitted by nature to enter into this side of her husband's work, as she +had longed to do. Now, as a result of his lack of foresight, she +proposed to eliminate herself from what she considered to be her +husband's problem. "It has been more far-reaching than even you +realize," she had said to him at the reception at Villa Godilombra, and +this was what she had meant. + +It was several moments after Armstrong ceased speaking before Cerini +raised his eyes, and to Jack's surprise he saw that they were filled +with tears. He naturally attributed it to the librarian's affection for +him and his sympathy for his sorrow. + +"I should not have told you this, padre," he said, sadly, pressing the +hand which the old man laid tenderly upon his. "The fault is mine, and I +should not try to shirk the full responsibility by sharing it with you." + +"It is mine to share with you, my son," Cerini replied, firmly. "You +have erred, as you state. You have been to blame for not giving out +again, as the example of the master-spirits of the past should have +taught you, those glorious lessons which impart the joy of living to +those who give as well as to those who receive. But my error is even +heavier. I have lived all my life in this atmosphere, drinking in the +knowledge and the spirit which have come to you only within the past few +months; yet I failed to recognize in your wife the natural embodiment of +all that the best in humanism teaches. What you and I have endeavored to +assimilate she has felt and expressed as naturally as she has breathed. +She has shown us humanism in its highest development, purified and +strengthened by her own fine nature, even though we have given her no +opportunity for expression. Thank God we have recognized it at last!" + +"You really believe that?" cried Armstrong, recalling his own earlier +and less-defined conviction. + +"Beyond a doubt," Cerini answered. "Let us find her, that we may tell +her what a victory she has won." + +Armstrong placed a restraining hand upon the old man's arm. "Not yet," +he said, gently but firmly. "There is much still to be done to prepare +her for this knowledge. At present she would not accept it." + +"We must convince her." + +"First of all I must make my peace with Miss Thayer," Armstrong replied. +"Until that complication is relieved there is no hope." + +"Do you feel strong enough for that?" asked Cerini, anxiously. + +"It requires more than strength, padre," Armstrong replied, seriously; +"it requires faith in myself, which at present is sadly lacking." + +The old man rose and stood for a moment beside Armstrong's +half-reclining figure. Bending down, he took his face in his hands and +looked full into his eyes. + +"Let me give you that faith," he said, affectionately. "You have +already learned by sad experience that you are not the master of Fate. +Let me tell you that by the same token you are not the victim of Fate. +Nature, unerring in her wisdom, is now giving you the privilege of being +co-partner with her in the final solving of your great personal problem. +Accept the offered opportunity, my son, and show yourself finally worthy +of it." + + + + +XXX + + +Helen had not overlooked the contessa's remark to Cerini, even though +she gave no evidence at the time of having heard it. Her conversation +with Jack had given her thoughts much food to feed upon. His words were +so welcome, after the long breach, his manner so sincere, that she had +been nearer to the yielding-point than he imagined. She had wondered if, +after all, her attitude was justified, in view of his expressed desire +to return to the same relations which had previously given them both +such happiness. Jack's statement that her insistence upon the present +conditions would do more to wreck their happiness than anything which he +had done, made its impression upon her. Nothing but the previous +intensity of her conviction that she must yield her place to Inez had +held her to the self-appointed duty which she found so difficult to +perform. + +When the contessa repeated to Cerini what appeared to be an expression +of her husband's impatience to return to his work Helen felt all +hesitation vanish. Jack sympathized with her suffering, and would do all +which lay in his power to make amends. She knew that he would give up +all idea of future work, no matter at what sacrifice to himself, rather +than add another straw to the burden which he now saw was nearly bearing +her down. Yet the affection which she felt for him refused to be +strangled. His very insistence, even though she was convinced that it +was prompted by his sense of duty, fanned the embers into flame at a +time when she was certain that at last their fire had become extinct. It +was further evidence of her weakness, she told herself, and she would +make superhuman efforts to adhere to the duty which lay plainly enough +before her. + +As she was leaving, the contessa placed her arm about Helen's waist and +whispered to her: + +"Don't think me meddlesome, my dear, but you will make a great mistake +not to stick close beside that big, splendid husband of yours. They all +do it, and I imagine he has been almost circumspect compared with most +of them. Send the girl away and see if you can't make him forget his +affinity. He is worth the effort, my dear--believe me, he is worth the +effort." + +Helen was so taken by surprise by the contessa's words that she stood +speechless, looking at her with dull, lifeless eyes as she stepped into +the tonneau and waved a smiling farewell as the motor-car rolled out of +the court-yard. So the contessa was aware of the situation, and was also +convinced of Jack's attachment for Inez! This was too horrible--she +could not endure it! Matters must be brought to a head soon or she would +die of mortification! She could not return to the veranda where she had +left Cerini and Jack together, but went up-stairs to her room, where she +locked the door and threw herself upon the bed in a paroxysm of tears. + +Armstrong, on the contrary, had gained strength from Cerini's sympathy. +He would accept the offered opportunity and see if at last he could not +prove himself worthy of such glorious co-partnership. Unlike his +previous efforts, if he succeeded it would tend to restore Helen's +happiness as well, and this gave him an added incentive. + +It was the afternoon of the next day before he was able to make his +opportunity. Inez had taken a book and secreted herself in Helen's +"snuggery" in the garden, but Armstrong's watchful eyes followed her. +Waiting until she had time to become well settled, he strolled around +the garden, finally appearing at the entrance to prevent her escape. To +his surprise she made no such effort, and appeared more at ease than at +any time since the accident. + +"Have you come to join me?" she asked, with much of her former bearing. + +"If I may," he replied, advancing to the seat and taking the place she +made for him beside her. + +"How famously you are getting on!" she said, laying down the volume; +"you are more like yourself than I have seen you since the awful +accident." + +"If I may say so," Armstrong replied, watching her closely, "I was just +thinking the same of you." + +Inez flushed. "You are right," she answered, frankly, after a moment's +pause. + +Armstrong was distinctly relieved by her unexpected attitude. As he +looked back he realized that there had been a change in her bearing +toward him, particularly during the past week; but until now he had not +appreciated how rapidly her unnatural manner had been returning to what +it was during the early days of their acquaintance. The apparent effort +to avoid him had disappeared, although he knew of no more reason for +this than he had originally seen cause for its existence. Whatever the +reason, the change had undoubtedly taken place, and it made matters +easier for him. + +"We have passed through much together, Miss Thayer," he began. "I wonder +if we realize how much." + +"It has certainly been an unusual experience," she admitted. "I +expressed this to you at the library--do you remember? As I said then, +it could hardly occur again." + +"I appreciate that now," Armstrong replied, in a low voice; "at that +time I do not think I did." + +"There was much which you could not appreciate then," continued Inez; +"and as I look back upon it there is much which I cannot explain to +myself. In fact, there is a great deal that I blame myself for." + +"The blame belongs to me, Miss Thayer," Armstrong asserted, firmly. + +"For being away from Helen so much?" + +"Yes; and for many other acts of selfishness and neglect. I am to blame +for all that you feel against yourself." + +"Against myself?" Inez repeated. + +Armstrong paused long before he continued. "You have passed through this +spell with me," he said, at length. "You, better than any one else, know +its power, and can understand the cause of my attitude toward you and +Helen, which was as inexplicable as it was unpardonable. And because you +understand this I believe that I shall find you the more ready to +forgive." + +"There is nothing for which you stand in need of my forgiveness," Inez +said, in a low tone. "On the contrary, there is much for which I have to +thank you. It was a new world to which you introduced me--one which I +should not otherwise have known; and having known it, nothing can ever +take it from me." + +"If matters had only stopped there," Armstrong continued, "I should have +accomplished just what I had hoped to do. The fascination of the work so +held me, and my desire to further the principles which seemed to me to +represent all which made life worth the living resulted in blinding me +to the possibility that you, perhaps, were not affected to a similar +degree. Your assistance was so valuable, your companionship so congenial +that I never once realized that I was running any risk of not performing +my full duty toward you as well as toward Helen." + +Inez could not fail to comprehend the import of his words, and a +feeling of thankfulness passed over her that this conversation had not +come earlier. The days which had passed since she confided to Helen the +secret which she had so long carried alone had, in their way, been as +full of chaotic conditions as had Armstrong's; yet it was but recently +that she had come to realize the full importance of what had really +happened. The days at the library, as she looked back upon them, seemed +as a dream. She could close her eyes and bring back the intoxication of +those moments alone with Armstrong in which she had silently revelled, +while he had applied himself to the task before him unconscious of what +was taking place. She could not deny herself the guilty pleasure of +recalling them, yet little by little these thoughts had become +disassociated from the man with whom she now came in almost hourly +contact. With this disassociation came a welcome relief. The dread which +she had felt of seeing him and hearing his voice disappeared as suddenly +as it had come. She wondered at it, but she accepted it eagerly without +waiting for an explanation. + +With her return to more normal conditions her solicitude for Helen +increased. She was conscious of her friend's unhappiness, yet she, +perhaps, of all the household, was least aware of the extent of the +breach between her and Armstrong. Helen, naturally perhaps, had confined +her conversation upon this subject to Uncle Peabody and her husband, so +Inez had no thought other than that all would straighten itself out now +that Jack had become himself again. She had believed that Helen alone +shared her secret with her, so it was with surprise and mortification +that she became aware that Armstrong himself knew of what had taken +place. This was even more of an ordeal to face than when she made her +confession to Helen, yet it was one which ought to be met with absolute +frankness. + +"I understand what you mean," she replied, the color still showing in +her face, "and I am glad that this opportunity has come for me to speak +freely, even at the risk of losing your esteem. It is quite true that I, +too, found myself beneath a spell--but besides this one which influenced +you there was also another and a different one. I see no reason why I +should be ashamed to say that this other spell was unconsciously exerted +by a great scholar, a noble friend, a loyal husband. The effect of it +was for a time overpowering, but now I can acknowledge it without +injuring any one and express my gratitude for an influence which must +always act for my best good." + +"Miss Thayer!" Armstrong cried, overwhelmed by the revulsion which the +girl's words brought to him. "I beg of you not to make virtues out of my +errors; I cannot accept a tribute such as that, knowing myself to be +unworthy of it. Can you not see that I should have guarded you from that +spell, both for your sake and for Helen's?" + +Inez smiled in real happiness that the break had at last been made. "You +have given me far more than you have taken away, dear friend," she +replied, gratefully; "now that the experience is past I appreciate it +more than ever. But promise me that you will not give up this work +because of what we all have been through." + +Armstrong shook his head. "I shall not take such chances again," he +said. + +"It could never repeat itself," Inez urged. "Because one has been +wounded by the thorn he failed to see is no reason why he should never +pluck another rose." + +"But suppose that in plucking the rose something fell out from next the +heart which was inexpressibly dear to him and was lost forever?" + +Inez looked up quickly. "What do you mean?" she asked. + +"Do you not know that Helen insists upon a separation?" + +"A separation!" Inez repeated, rising to her feet; "why, she worships +you! Surely there is some mistake." + +"No; she is convinced that our marriage was all wrong, and that she +stands between me and the continuance of this work, which she argues is +essential for my development and happiness. It is ridiculous, of course, +but I cannot move her." + +"She is right about the work," the girl said, decidedly; "but there is +no one in the world better fitted to enter into it with you than she, if +she but knew it. As I said, you will never take it up in the same way +again, but having learned what it means you can never eliminate it from +your life; and this should draw you and Helen even closer together." + +"My one remaining labor is to convince her of this," Armstrong replied, +feelingly. + +"And I will help you do it." + +Armstrong looked at her steadily for a moment. "There is another point +upon which she insists, of which I have not told you," he said. + +Inez waited for him to continue. + +"She believes that you and I are foreordained for each other," Armstrong +said, bluntly, "and she proposes to step aside to make the realization +of this possible." + +The girl gazed at her companion in silent amazement. So this was the +cause of Helen's suffering--this was the price she was willing to pay as +a tribute to her friendship for her and her love for her husband! + +"The brave, brave girl!" Inez cried, almost overcome by her emotion. "I +must make her understand that the Jack Armstrong I loved was killed at +the foot of the hill of Settignano. Dear, dear Helen! it is now my +privilege to give her back her happiness as she gave me back mine!" + + + + +XXXI + + +It had been to Uncle Peabody that Helen had turned during all this +period, but it was for comfort and strength rather than for advice. The +problem was hers, and she alone must finally solve it. She had thought +it settled until her conversation with Jack, which caused a momentary +wavering. She repeated Armstrong's words to Uncle Peabody, and his +absolute conviction that her husband's present attitude was a normal and +final expression encouraged her to question whether there might not be +some other solution than the one upon which she had determined. Still, +it was only a questioning; as yet she was unprepared to share Uncle +Peabody's conviction. + +"Don't lean too far backward," he had said to her, "in your efforts to +stand by your principles. I have seen things which were called +principles at first become tyrants and do damage out of all proportion +to the good they would have done had the conditions not changed." + +"It is the conditions I am watching, uncle," Helen had replied. "I have +no 'principles,' as you call them, which will not joyfully yield +themselves. I must not--I will not--stand in the way either of Jack's +happiness or of his development. If I can make myself see any way by +which we can stay together without accomplishing one or the other of +these mistakes, God knows how eagerly I will again pick up the thread of +life." + +Uncle Peabody had folded her in his great arms again, as he had done so +many times lately. + +"People have sometimes told me that I am a philosopher," he said, +huskily. "They have seen me meet death in a dear friend, or even one +closer to me, with calmness, sending the departed spirit a wireless +'bon-voyage' message and considering the incident as fortunate, as if he +had received a promotion. But when I see one as dear to me as you are, +gasping for breath in what has seemed to be a hopeless and prolonged +struggle for that life which love alone can give you, I must confess +that my stock of philosophy, such as it is, seems sadly inadequate." + +Now had come the necessity of repeating to him what the contessa had +said, which gave Helen double pain, knowing, as she did, how much relief +her last conversation had given him. + +"I can't believe it, Helen," Uncle Peabody said, decisively. "Whatever +else one may say of Jack Armstrong, he is honest, and I can't believe +him insincere in what he said to you." + +"It is not insincerity, dear," she replied, wearily. "He is trying to +deceive himself.--What is it, Annetta?" she asked, almost petulantly, of +the maid as she approached. + +"Monsignor Cerini--" began the maid. + +"Mr. Armstrong is on the veranda," Helen interrupted. + +"But he asks for the madama." + +"For me?" Helen was incredulous. "Show him out here, Annetta." + +The librarian's face beamed genially as he greeted her and Uncle +Peabody. + +"Has the maid not made a mistake?" Helen asked. "Is it not our invalid +whom you wish to see?" + +"No, my daughter, it is you whom I seek. I have come to make a full +though long-delayed acknowledgment." + +Helen glanced over to Uncle Peabody, thoroughly mystified. + +"Your husband and I were talking of you yesterday," he continued, "and +we both are deeply concerned to find how erroneous have been our +estimates and how slow we have been to recognize the truth." + +So Jack had sent him to plead his cause, Helen told herself, and in her +heart she resented the interference. It was unlike him to intrust so +important a matter as this to another, yet perhaps it was a further +evidence of the new conditions. + +"Shall I not leave you to yourselves?" queried Uncle Peabody. + +"By no means!" Cerini cried, hastily. "It is most fitting that you +should hear what I am about to say. Do you remember the first day I met +you at the library?" he continued, addressing his question to Helen. + +She closed her eyes for a moment, and an involuntary shadow of pain +passed over her face as she replied, quietly: + +"Do you think I could ever forget it?" + +Cerini saw it all, and it touched him deeply. "I was unkind to you that +day, my daughter--even cruel. I thought I understood, but later events +have shown me that my judgment led me far astray." + + [Illustration: + SO JACK HAD SENT HIM TO PLEAD HIS CAUSE, HELEN + TOLD HERSELF; AND IN HER HEART SHE RESENTED + THE INTERFERENCE] + +The old man had come to a realization at last! This, at all events, was +a comfort to her. + +"Only in part," she replied, trying to speak cheerfully. "The +character-building was going on just as you said." + +"It was," Cerini said, forcefully--"to a greater extent, I believe, than +any one of us knew. My only excuse is that I was possessed with a +preconceived idea--the very thing which I so much object to in others." + +"I don't think I quite understand," Helen replied. "Do you mean that, +after all his efforts, my husband is right in his conviction that his +work has been a failure?" + +"It is not of your husband that I am thinking now," the librarian +answered; "it is of myself--and you." + +"Of me?" Helen was genuinely surprised. "But I have never entered into +the consideration at all, where the work at the library was concerned." + +"You should have done so; that is just the point." + +"I wanted to," Helen cried; "but you told me that I was quite incapable +of doing so." + +"I know I did," replied the librarian, bowing his head; "and that is +where I made my great mistake." + +"It would have stopped their work where it was--you said so yourself." + +Cerini again bowed his head. "All part of the same mistake," he +admitted. "Had I encouraged you at that time you would not only have +added much to the work itself, but you would have saved your husband +from his own great error. I have been much to blame, my daughter, and +you must not hold him responsible for a fault which is really mine." + +Helen tried to fathom what was in the old man's mind. She could not +question his sincerity, yet his words seemed a mockery. Jack had +evidently taken him freely into his confidence, so there was no reason +why she should not speak freely. + +"Mr. Armstrong has apparently told you how unfortunately his experience +has ended in its effect upon our personal relations. Knowing this, I am +sure you would not intentionally wound me further by seeking to restore +matters to a false basis; yet I can understand your words in no other +way. As you said of my husband, that day in the library, this time it is +your heart and not your head which finds expression." + +The librarian gasped with apprehension. "Daughter! daughter!" he cried, +"have I not made myself clear! Then let me do so now before any possible +misunderstanding can enter in. I am a humanist by profession--until now +I believed myself a modern humanist. When I first knew your husband, he +was a youth full of intelligent appreciation of those ancient marvels +which I delighted to show him. Imagine my joy, twelve years later, to +welcome him again, grown to man's estate, and to find that the early +seeds which I had planted within him had sent out roots and tendrils so +strong as to hold him firmly in their grasp. Then he brought Miss Thayer +to me--at first I took her for you, as she was the kind of woman I had +expected him to marry. She entered into his work with him with the same +spirit as his own, and my foolish old heart rejoiced that such splendid +material had been placed in my hands for the moulding." + +"Why repeat all this?" Helen interrupted; "I know it all and accept it +all, but what agony to pass through it still another time!" + +"Forgive me, my daughter," Cerini replied, quickly; "we are past the +period of your sacrifice now, and have reached the point of your +triumph." + +"My triumph!" cried Helen, bitterly. "Why do you hurt me so?" + +"Patience, dear," Uncle Peabody urged, quietly. "Monsignor Cerini has +some purpose in mind which makes this necessary, I am sure." + +"I am unfortunate in my presentation," the librarian apologized. "The +point I wish to make is that up to the time I met Mrs. Armstrong I had +known but one kind of humanism. I myself had studied the master-spirits +of the past, and had assimilated the principles which they taught. Mr. +Armstrong and Miss Thayer assimilated their lessons in the same way as I +had done; but we all failed to recognize in this dear lady the natural +expression--the personification--of all that we ourselves had labored so +assiduously to acquire." + +Both Helen and Uncle Peabody were listening to the old man's words with +breathless attention. + +"You mean that Mrs. Armstrong is a natural humanist?" Uncle Peabody +queried. + +"The most perfect expression of all that humanism contains which I can +ever hope to see," Cerini replied, with feeling. "I, more than any one, +have prevented the expression of these attributes which are your natural +heritage; now let me help to merge them with your husband's undoubted +talents." + +"You cannot mean it," Helen said, weakly, sobering down after the first +exhilaration of the old man's words. "I am no humanist, either natural +or otherwise. Monsignor Cerini evidently means to give me a new +confidence, but it is a mistaken kindness." + +"You must listen to what he says, Helen," Uncle Peabody insisted. "I +have known Cerini for many years, and he would make no such statement +unless he felt it to be true." + +"It is all as unknown to me as some foreign language I have never heard +before," she protested. "I know, for I have tried to understand." + +"Does a bird have to know the technique of music before it can sing?" +asked Cerini, quietly. + +"Oh, this is agony for me!" cried Helen, in despair. "I can only see in +it another opening of the wound, another barb later to be torn from my +heart." + +"Be reasonable, child," urged Uncle Peabody, soothingly. "It seems to me +that instead of all this Cerini has brought to you--to all of us--the +solution of our problem. Let me ask him a few questions, while you +control yourself and try to understand." + +Helen acquiesced silently. Cerini's words had seemed to give her hope, +yet she dared not allow herself to hope again. Limp from exhaustion, +worn out by her ceaseless mental struggle, she had no strength even to +oppose. + +"Mrs. Armstrong has taken her present position," began Uncle Peabody, +"because she feels absolutely that her husband's real expression of +himself is that which he has shown her while under the influence of this +spell which his love of the old-time learning has woven about him." + +"She is right," replied the librarian, "except that by an unusual +combination of circumstances this influence overpowered him by its +strength, and he should not be held wholly responsible for his abnormal +acts. This is not the first time I have seen this happen. There is a +peculiar languor in the atmosphere, here in Florence, impregnated as it +is with the romance of centuries, which is absolutely intoxicating to +the mind, but it is rarely that it succeeds in making itself so felt +upon an Anglo-Saxon temperament. Mr. Armstrong ought never, for the sake +of his own individuality, to give up his fondness for the _literae +humaniores_, but it is entirely out of the question for him ever again +to become so subject to their control." + +"She senses this quite as strongly as you do; but beyond this she feels +that he can never retain the development which has come to him here +except in an atmosphere filled with a comprehension of all which he +holds so dear." + +"Mrs. Armstrong is still in the right," assented Cerini, gravely; "but +there is one point which she still fails to understand. Her husband's +work has been humanistic, but he himself is but just ready to begin to +be a humanist. She is the one best fitted in every way to join him at +this point, and their two personalities, thus united, can but produce +splendid results." + +"I cannot believe it," Helen interrupted, speaking with decision. "It +has been from Inez and not from me that he has received his inspiration. +Things are no different now from what they have been: Inez is still the +one to inspire him to attain his best." + +"You are wrong, dear," spoke a low voice behind them, as Inez threw her +arms about Helen and embraced her warmly. "I surmised what you were +discussing, and took this first opportunity to do my part toward +straightening things out." + +Helen sat upright and looked steadily into Inez' smiling face, +completely freed for the first time in many weeks from its care-worn +expression. + +"You--you could not look like that if you understood," she stammered, +still startled by her friend's sudden appearance. + +"Mr. Armstrong and I have talked it all over, and at last I understand +what should have been clear to me long ago. You are a dear, brave girl, +Helen, and deserve all the happiness which is in store for you." + +"Happiness--to me! Oh, Inez," Helen cried, "why do you all mock me with +that word? There can be no happiness for me, and, unless I do what I +propose, it means misery for every one instead of for me alone." + +"No, dear," Inez replied, softly, gently smoothing Helen's hair as she +rested her tired head upon her shoulder. "No--there can be nothing but +happiness, now that all is understood." + +"But you--you love Jack, Inez." + +The girl colored as Helen spoke thus freely in the presence of others, +but her voice was firm as she replied. + +"Helen, dear," she said, "here in the presence of Mr. Cartwright and +Monsignor Cerini I ask your permission to keep in my heart the image of +the man I learned to love while we both were beneath the spell. That man +no longer exists in the flesh, but I still worship his memory. He can +never exist again except as a part of an experience which could never be +repeated. Is this asking too much, dear?" + +"What does it all mean?" cried Helen, gazing at her helplessly--"what +does it all mean?" + +"It means that there have been two Jacks, Helen--one of whom became +transformed for a time into a veritable master-spirit of the past. To +this man, I admit, I gave a devotion which I shall never--could +never--give to any other; but he died, Helen, when the spell broke +against that wall at the foot of the hill of Settignano. This man, even +during his existence, gave me no devotion in return, and knew not the +passion which he inspired in me. He had no heart, but it was not his +heart I worshipped. To me his mind--broad, comprehensive, and +understanding--stood for all that life could give. The other Jack--the +man you married--has never wavered in the love he gave you from the +first. He has suffered from the influence of the second personality in +that he was forced into the background by the greater strength of this +sub-conscious self; but he has also gained from its influence in the +development which we all have seen. My Jack is dead, but yours still +lives. He needs you, and he longs for the return to him of the wife he +has always loved." + +Inez paused after her long appeal, eager to read a favorable response in +the pale face still gazing at her, but no change came over the set +features. Once or twice Helen started to speak, but no words came. Uncle +Peabody and Cerini had followed Inez intently, realizing that she was +pleading the cause far better than they could. Affected by the scene +before them, they found themselves unable to break the silence. At last +Helen's voice came back to her. + +"He longs for the return to him of the wife he has always loved?" + +She repeated Inez' words slowly, in the form of a question. + +"Yes, dear," her friend replied; "he is waiting for you now." + +"Oh no, no, no!" Helen cried, brokenly, covering her face with her +hands; "it is all a mistake. You are all doing this for my sake, and it +is not the truth--it is not the truth!" + +"You are ill, Helen!" cried Inez, alarmed by her appearance as well as +by the wildness of her words; "come, let me take you to your room." + +Unresistingly Helen suffered herself to be led into the house, leaving +Uncle Peabody and Cerini looking apprehensively at each other. + +"He longs--for the return to him--of the wife--he has always loved," +Helen murmured over and over again, as Inez and Annetta undressed her +and gently put her into bed. She seemed indifferent to what Inez said to +her, and conscious only of the words which she kept repeating. +Thoroughly frightened, Inez left her in Annetta's care while she rushed +down-stairs to summon the doctor. + + + + +XXXII + + +For a few days Helen's condition was grave enough to warrant the anxiety +which pervaded the entire household. Dr. Montgomery was again pressed +into service, and found his skill taxed to the utmost to meet the +condition in which he found his new patient. + +"This is a great surprise to me," he remarked to Uncle Peabody, shaking +his head ominously. "I have made it a point to watch Mrs. Armstrong +throughout the shock and the strain of her husband's accident, +anticipating that this nervous reaction might occur; but the time when +it would naturally have happened is now long since passed." + +Mr. Cartwright reluctantly explained to the doctor enough of the facts +to assist him to a proper understanding of the case, and with sympathies +fully enlisted his efforts were redoubled. The patient herself proved to +be his greatest obstacle. Try as he would, he could not arouse in her +any interest in her recovery. She accepted his services and those of the +nurse without question, but in an apathetic manner. Armstrong, Inez, and +Uncle Peabody hovered about the sick-chamber, eagerly grasping such +information as the nurse and the doctor were able to give them, the +anxious lines in their faces becoming deeper as the hours passed by. + +But it was naturally upon Armstrong that the burden rested most +heavily. He had been given the fullest details of the conference in the +garden which immediately preceded Helen's collapse, and her replies to +Cerini's appeal showed him, better even than his last conversation with +her, how seriously she had been affected. For this he alone was +responsible, and he was equally responsible for the illness which came +as a final result of it all. He had hoped that when Cerini awakened her +to a knowledge of her own splendid development she would accept his plea +that they take up their new life together, but this expectation had been +in vain. + +"It has come too late," he said, bitterly, to Uncle Peabody. "We can +only imagine the tortures through which the poor girl has passed by the +severity of this reaction. She has been forcing herself to make this +supreme sacrifice, which she believes is necessary, and has succeeded at +last in destroying that love which I know she felt for me even through +the worst of the crisis." + +"She loves you still, Jack," replied Uncle Peabody, whose complete +sympathy had been won by Armstrong's attitude during the trying days +they were passing through together. "It is this which has made it so +hard for her." + +"It is only your ever-present optimism," the younger man replied, sadly. +"Now that I see myself as I have really been during these past weeks, I +cannot share it with you, much as I wish I could. If I, having actually +experienced this spell and knowing its force, find it so impossible to +explain to myself this long series of inexplicable events, how can I +expect anything other than this generous but unfortunate conviction that +her self-sacrifice is necessary?" + +His face contracted as he spoke, and the veins upon his forehead stood +out boldly against the fair skin, still colorless from his prolonged +illness. + +"And the worst of it all is that I can make no sacrifice which can +possibly accomplish anything," he continued. "She--she must suffer on +indefinitely for my selfishness, for my neglect." + +"Let me speak to her just once more," Inez pleaded, in real pity for the +man beside her. "When she is strong enough, perhaps I can make her +understand." + +"No," he replied, firmly, yet showing his appreciation of her thought +for him, "she has endured enough already. The very mention of her +husband can only revive unhappy memories. She shall at least be spared +any further pleading on my behalf." + +At last the doctor pronounced the danger-point passed, and the relief +which the announcement brought gave Armstrong the necessary strength to +enable him to take upon himself the details of packing and closing up +the house, and getting everything in readiness to leave for home as soon +as Helen should be strong enough to travel. + +"The place has been hateful to her all these weeks," he explained, "and +she must be freed from every scene which suggests what has passed." + +As he went from one part of the villa to another, he was constantly +reminded with painful forcefulness of the days which they had first +enjoyed there together. The flowers in the garden, the singing of the +birds in the trees, the distant view of the city--each possessed a +personal significance. "I love the present," she had said to him--"I +love the sky, the air, the sunshine, and the flowers." + +Happy, buoyant nature--the natural humanist! She assimilated all that +was best in life, and had he given her the opportunity would have +breathed it out again to those around her richer and more inspiring +because of its contact with her own rare self! Fool that he had been! +With the riches of the past lying at his hand to be drawn upon for +material, he had selfishly insisted that his own methods of using them +were the only ones, recognizing too late the inspiration and the real +assistance which she was amply able to give him in transforming these +riches into even purer gold by the magic touch of the present. Armstrong +groaned as the irony of it came to him. + +Helen recovered slowly, and with a sweetness which touched the hearts of +all about her. Inez and Uncle Peabody were with her much of the time, +but Armstrong, true to his conviction that he had become distasteful to +her, waited to be asked for; and Helen did not ask. The only event which +happened to interrupt the even tenor of the days was a call from the +Contessa Morelli, who was solicitous for her condition. + +"Make some excuse," Helen said, quietly, to Inez, who announced the +visitor. "Don't say anything to hurt her feelings, but I really can't +see her. She does not understand the life I know and love, and I don't +want to understand hers." + +So it was Jack whom the contessa met as she took her departure. + +"I am so relieved to know that your wife is in no danger," she said, +sympathetically. + +"So are we all," Armstrong replied, in a perfunctory way, still feeling +ill at ease in the contessa's presence. "This villa will soon be +considered as a hospital if any more of us become invalids." + +"Miss Thayer is not ill?" inquired the contessa, smiling archly. + +"She is quite well, I believe," he replied, coldly, but with an effort +to be civil. + +"How fortunate!" Amelie continued. "With Mrs. Armstrong in no danger and +Miss Thayer in good health, you will soon, no doubt, resume your +charming _tete-a-tetes_ at the library?" + +The contessa was endeavoring to be mischievous, but Armstrong was in no +mood for her pleasantries. He resented the words no less than the +expression upon her face. Yet he himself was partially responsible, and +this thought kept back the words upon his lips which if spoken would +have been regretted. He looked intently into her face before he +answered, and the contessa's smile faded. + +"Instead of replying to your question," Armstrong said, quietly, with +his eyes still fixed upon her, "may I not ask you a favor?" + +"Surely you may ask it," she replied; "but that does not mean that I +must grant it, does it?" + +"You need not grant it unless you choose," pursued Armstrong; "but at +least I shall have the satisfaction of asking it: will you not add one +more class into which you separate the men you meet?" + +The contessa laughed merrily. "What a curious request to be made so +seriously!" she exclaimed. "Of whom shall the new class be composed?" + +"Of those men who are husbands and who love their wives," Armstrong +replied, feelingly; "who despise intrigue and disloyalty and hypocrisy +in either sex; who consider honor and life as synonyms; and who, even +for the sake of civility, cannot allow misinterpretations to cast a +shadow upon the sanctity of marriage." + +"_Mon Dieu!_" cried the contessa, making a pretty _moue_ as she rose and +moved toward the veranda; "and I thought he had no temperament! Shall I +put you in this exotic class? Oh no; you would be so lonesome!" + +"I could not expect you to understand," Armstrong replied, in a low +tone, biting his lip with vexation. + +Amelie watched his expression intently, a complete change coming over +her manner. The flippant bearing was gone; the smile, aggravating as it +was attractive, vanished. She took a step toward him as she spoke. + +"But I do understand," she said, slowly, in a low, tense voice. "Perhaps +I ought to feel shamed by your contempt and indignant at your criticism. +On the contrary, I am glad that I incurred both, for by it I have +learned that a man can be honest, and that appearances are not always +the safest guides. What you have said is what a woman understands by +instinct; anything different is what she learns--from men. Will you +forgive me? I shall not offend again." + +His surprise at this new and unexpected view of the contessa's character +was so great that it was only instinctively that he pressed the dainty +hand which was held out to him. For a moment their eyes met. + +"I wish that you and your wife might both have come into my life +earlier," she said, simply, and then turned quickly to the door and was +in the tonneau of her motor-car before Armstrong could offer to assist +her. So, as the machine moved away, he stood on the veranda, bowing his +acknowledgment of her radiant smile into which a new element had +entered. + +Then Armstrong turned back into the hallway, where he met the doctor +and Uncle Peabody coming down the stairs. + +"Has she asked for me yet?" he inquired, eagerly. + +"Not yet," Dr. Montgomery answered, with that understanding which is a +part of the physician's profession. Armstrong turned away to conceal his +face, which he felt must show all that was passing through his heart. + +"I wish you would go to her, anyway," the doctor continued. + +"You don't know what you are suggesting, doctor--I want to do it so +much--but I must not." + +"It will be necessary to talk with her soon about our future plans, +Jack," Uncle Peabody said, seeing a way to accomplish their purpose. +"Dr. Montgomery says that Helen is strong enough now to discuss the +matter." + +Armstrong looked from one to the other with uncertainty. "You are +right," he said, at length. "She must be consulted about that, and I am +the one to do it." + +He chose the morning for his visit to her--a morning filled with the +sunshine she loved so well. He plucked a handful of the fragrant +blossoms from the garden, hoping that the odor might recall to her some +of the happy moments they had experienced together. The very perfume +rising from the redolent petals seemed to accuse him as he stood before +her door awaiting the nurse's response to his knock. + +"May I come in?" he asked, looking across the room to the bed where +Helen lay propped up with pillows, so that she could look out of the +window into the garden, even though the tops of the trees alone rewarded +her gaze. + +"Of course," Helen weakly replied, yet with a smile, and the nurse +discreetly left them to themselves. + +Armstrong seated himself on a chair near the bed and gazed in silence +at the thin, pale features of the woman before him. This was the wreck +of the beautiful girl he had married and brought here to Florence for +her honeymoon. What a honeymoon! + +"I am glad you came to me at last," Helen said, quietly, interrupting +his convicting thoughts. + +"At last!" The words brought him to himself. Mastering his emotion as +best he could, he took her thin hand in his, and the fact that she did +not withdraw it gave him courage. + +"I have longed to come to you each day, but you asked me not to make it +harder for you." + +"I am glad you came to me at last," she repeated. + +How should he begin? The sentences he had thought out carefully, which +might convey his necessary message and yet spare her, seemed too cold, +too meaningless. He glanced up at her helplessly, and the expression on +her face helped him to his purpose. Impulsively drawing his chair still +nearer to the bed, he poured out to her the self-incriminations which +had haunted him for days. In a torrent of pitiless words he pictured +himself without mercy. There was no plea for reconsideration, no thought +of future readjustment. The one idea was to let her know how fully he +realized all that had happened, how powerless he felt himself to make +restitution, and his determination to do what now remained to make her +future as little overcast as possible by the events which had already +taken place. + +"I would not have come now except that it is necessary," he said, +brokenly. "I know that to see me must recall unhappy recollections, but +there are some matters which we must talk over together. I have not come +to plead for any reconsideration--you were right in what you said the +last time we talked about it, as you have been in all else. Our marriage +was a mistake, and it is I who have made it so. I no longer ask that we +try to restore matters to their former position. The only sacrifice +within my power is to give you a chance to recover as much as you can of +what I have made you lose. The penalty is hard, but well deserved." + +He did not look into her face as he spoke, lest he lose his courage +before all was said. "Cerini has told you what you have taught us both, +which is another debt I owe you. It should be some little consolation, +dear, to know that your expression and your understanding have been so +much clearer than those of this librarian, whom I have considered +infallible; than those of your husband, whom in the past I know you have +respected and loved. Thank God for that love!" he repeated, abruptly. + +"Then it is really true that my 'dear present' is worth something, after +all?" + +"Your 'dear present' is the saving clause. Without it we limit ourselves +beyond the hope of recovery, just as I have done. The glories of the +past are as splendid and as important as I ever painted them, but they +must be awakened with the breath of present necessities. You have always +felt this and expressed it; I have known it only since you taught it to +me." + +"I am glad," she answered, simply. + +"But I am forgetting my errand," Armstrong continued, bracing himself +for a final effort. "As soon as you are able to travel you will, of +course, wish to return home. It may be that, for the sake of +appearances, you will wish me to go with you, in which case I shall make +it as easy as possible for you. Or you can return with Uncle Peabody, as +he tells me you once spoke to him of doing. He is eager to do anything +you wish, but he has plans which need to be arranged after you have once +decided." + +Helen's gaze rested firmly upon her husband's half-averted face, +watching the changing expressions, reading the unspoken words. "He longs +for the return to him of the wife he has always loved" rang in her ears, +and now for the first time it seemed to ring true. Her mind was moving +fast as Armstrong ceased speaking, and even when she replied, a moment +later, it was not an answer. + +"What is Inez going to do?" she inquired. + +"As soon as we close the villa she will go to the _pension_ where the +Sinclair girls were." + +"She will stay in Florence?" Helen asked, surprised. + +"Yes; she has arranged with Cerini to work with him upon his _Humanistic +Studies_." + +Helen withdrew her hand from his as she leaned back upon the pillow and +closed her eyes. Armstrong regarded her anxiously, fearful lest their +interview had been too great a strain upon her returning strength; but +as he looked her eyes opened again. + +"You must know at once whether I prefer to return home with you or with +Uncle Peabody?" she asked, faintly. + +"Not at once," he replied, leaning nearer to catch the low-spoken +words--"not until you are strong enough to decide." + +Suddenly he felt both her arms about his neck, and in his ear she +whispered, "Let me go with you, Jack; but not to Boston--take me to +Fiesole!" + + + THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Notes + + + In this text-version = was used to indicate a change in font-type + of a few words from _italics_ to =no-italics= (summa cum laude). + + A few missing quotation marks have been added. + + Archaic and inconsistent spelling and hyphenation have been preserved. + + On page 193 the original text is: "Because 'beautiful paintings' do + not have husbands," in the caption of the illustration the quote is: + "do not possess husbands." 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