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diff --git a/41660-0.txt b/41660-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f85be81 --- /dev/null +++ b/41660-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8948 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41660 *** + + A Fortnight of Folly + + BY + MAURICE THOMPSON + + AUTHOR OF + "Alice of Old Vincennes," "A Banker of Bankersville," etc. + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK AND LONDON + STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS + + + + + Copyright, 1888 + By THE ALDEN PUBLISHING COMPANY + + Copyright, 1902 + By STREET & SMITH + + A Fortnight of Folly + + + + +CONTENTS + + + A FORTNIGHT OF FOLLY. + THE TALE OF A SCULPTOR, by HUGH CONWAY + CARRISTON'S GIFT. + + + + +A FORTNIGHT OF FOLLY. + + +I. + +The Hotel Helicon stood on a great rock promontory that jutted far out +into a sea of air whose currents and eddies filled a wide, wild valley +in the midst of our southern mountain region. It was a new hotel, built +by a Cincinnati man who founded his fortune in natural gas speculations, +and who had conceived the bright thought of making the house famous at +the start by a stroke of rare liberality. + +Viewing the large building from any favorable point in the valley, it +looked like a huge white bird sitting with outstretched wings on the +gray rock far up against the tender blue sky. All around it the forests +were thick and green, the ravines deep and gloomy and the rocks tumbled +into fantastic heaps. When you reached it, which was after a whole day +of hard zig-zag climbing, you found it a rather plain three-story house, +whose broad verandas were worried with a mass of jig-saw fancies and +whose windows glared at you between wide open green Venetian shutters. +Everything look new, almost raw, from the stumps of fresh-cut trees on +the lawn and the rope swings and long benches, upon which the paint +was scarcely dry, to the resonant floor of the spacious halls and the +cedar-fragrant hand-rail of the stairway. + +There were springs among the rocks. Here the water trickled out with a +red gleam of iron oxide, there it sparkled with an excess of carbonic +acid, and yonder it bubbled up all the more limpid and clear on account +of the offensive sulphuretted hydrogen it was bringing forth. Masses +of fern, great cushions of cool moss and tangles of blooming shrubs +and vines fringed the sides of the little ravines down which the +spring-streams sang their way to the silver thread of a river in the +valley. + +It was altogether a dizzy perch, a strange, inconvenient, out-of-the-way +spot for a summer hotel. You reached it all out of breath, confused as +to the points of the compass and disappointed, in every sense of the +word, with what at first glance struck you as a colossal pretense, +empty, raw, vulgar, loud--a great trap into which you had been inveigled +by an eloquent hand-bill! Hotel Helicon, as a name for the place, was +considered a happy one. It had come to the proprietor, as if in a dream, +one day as he sat smoking. He slapped his thigh with his hand and sprang +to his feet. The word that went so smoothly with hotel, as he fancied, +had no special meaning in his mind, for the gas man had never been +guilty of classical lore-study, but it furnished a taking alliteration. + +"Hotel Helicon, Hotel Helicon," he repeated; "that's just a dandy name. +Hotel Helicon on Mount Boab, open for the season! If that doesn't get +'em I'll back down." + +His plans matured themselves very rapidly in his mind. One brilliant +idea followed another in swift succession, until at last he fell upon +the scheme of making Hotel Helicon free for the initial season to a +select company of authors chosen from among the most brilliant and +famous in our country. + +"Zounds!" he exclaimed, all to himself, "but won't that be a darling old +advertisement! I'll have a few sprightly newspaper people along with +'em, too, to do the interviewing and puffing. By jacks, it's just the +wrinkle to a dot!" + +Mr. Gaslucky was of the opinion that, like Napoleon, he was in the hands +of irresistible destiny which would ensure the success of whatever he +might undertake; still he was also a realist and depended largely upon +tricks for his results. He had felt the great value of what he liked to +term legitimate advertising, and he was fond of saying to himself that +any scheme would succeed if properly set before the world. He regarded +it a maxim that anything which can be clearly described is a fact. His +realism was the gospel of success, he declared, and needed but to be +stated to be adopted by all the world. + +From the first he saw how his hotel was to be an intellectual focus; +moreover he designed to have it radiate its own glory like a star set +upon Mt. Boab. + +The difficulties inherent in this project were from the first quite +apparent to Mr. Gaslucky, but he was full of expedients and cunning. +He had come out of the lowest stratum of life, fighting his way up to +success, and his knowledge of human nature was accurate if not very +broad. + +Early in the summer, about the first days of June, in fact, certain +well-known and somewhat distinguished American authors received by +due course of mail an autograph letter from Mr. Gaslucky, which was +substantially as follows: + + CINCINNATI, O., May 30, 1887. + + MY DEAR SIR: + + The Hotel Helicon, situated on the Lencadian promontory, far up the + height of Mt. Boab and overlooking the glorious valley of the Big + Mash River, amid the grandest scenery of the Cumberland Mountains, + where at their southern extremity they break into awful peaks, + chasms and escarpments, is now thrown open to a few favored guests + for the summer. The proprietor in a spirit of liberality (and for + the purpose of making this charming hotel known to a select public) + is issuing a few special invitations to distinguished people to come + and spend the summer free of charge. You are cordially and urgently + invited. The Hotel Helicon is a place to delight the artist and the + _litterateur_. It is high, airy, cool, surrounded by wild scenes, + good shooting and fishing at hand, incomparable mineral springs, + baths, grottos, dark ravines and indeed everything engaging to the + imagination. The proprietor will exhaust effort to make his chosen + guests happy. The rooms are new, sweet, beautifully furnished and + altogether comfortable, and the table will have every delicacy of + the season served in the best style. There will be no uninvited + guests, all will be chosen from the most exalted class. Come, and + for one season taste the sweets of the dews of Helicon, without + money and without price. + + If you accept this earnest and cordial invitation, notify me at + once. Hotel Helicon is at your command. + + Truly yours, + ISAIAH R. GASLUCKY. + +It is needless to say that this letter was the product of a professional +advertising agent employed for the occasion by the proprietor of Hotel +Helicon. The reader will observe the earmarks of the creation and +readily recognize the source. Of course, when the letter was addressed +to a woman there was a change, not only in the gender of the terms, but +in the tone, which took on a more persuasive color. The attractions +of the place were described in more poetic phrasing and a cunningly +half-hidden thread of romance, about picturesque mountaineers and +retired and reformed bandits, was woven in. + +Naturally enough, each individual who received this rather uncommon +letter, read it askance, at first, suspecting a trick, but the +newspapers soon cleared the matter up by announcing that Mr. Isaiah +Gaslucky, of Cincinnati, had "conceived the happy idea of making his +new and picturesque Hotel Helicon free this season to a small and +select company of distinguished guests. The hotel will not be open to +the public until next year." + +And thus it came to pass that in midsummer such a company as never +before was assembled, met on Mt. Boab and made the halls of Hotel +Helicon gay with their colors and noisy with their mirth. The woods, +the dizzy cliffs, the bubbling springs, the cool hollows, the windy +peaks and the mossy nooks were filled with song, laughter, murmuring +under-tones of sentiment, or something a little sweeter and warmer, and +there were literary conversations, and critical talks, and jolly satire +bandied about, with some scraps of adventure and some bits of rather +ludicrous mishap thrown in for variety. + +Over all hung a summer sky, for the most part cloudless, and the days +were as sweet as the nights were delicious. + + +II. + +In the afternoon of a breezy day, at the time when the shadows were +taking full possession of the valley, the coach arrived at Hotel Helicon +from the little railway station at the foot of Mt. Boab. + +A man, the only passenger, alighted from his perch beside the driver and +for a moment stood as if a little dazed by what he saw. + +He was very short, rather round and stout, and bore himself quietly, +almost demurely. His head was large, his feet and hands were small and +his face wore the expression of an habitual good humor amounting nearly +to jolliness, albeit two vertical wrinkles between his brows hinted of a +sturdy will seated behind a heavy Napoleonic forehead. The stubby tufts +of grizzled hair that formed his mustaches shaded a mouth and chin at +once strong and pleasing. He impressed the group of people on the hotel +veranda most favorably, and at once a little buzz of inquiry circulated. +No one knew him. + +That this was an important arrival could not be doubted; it was felt at +once and profoundly. Great men carry an air of individuality about with +them; each, like a planet, has his own peculiar atmosphere by which his +light is modified. There was no mistaking the light in this instance; it +indicated a luminary of the first magnitude. + +Unfortunately the guests at Hotel Helicon were not required to record +their names in a register, therefore the new comer could bide his own +time to make himself known. + +Miss Alice Moyne, of Virginia, the beautiful young author of two or +three picturesque short stories lately published in a popular magazine, +was in conversation with Hartley Crane, the rising poet from Kentucky, +just at the moment when this new arrival caused a flutter on the +veranda. + +"Oh, I do wonder if he can be Edgar De Vere?" she exclaimed. + +"No," said Hartley Crane, "I have seen De Vere; he is as large and as +fascinating as his romances. That little pudgy individual could never +make a great romantic fiction like _Solway Moss_, by De Vere." + +"But that is a superb head," whispered Miss Moyne, "the head of a +master, a genius." + +"Oh, there are heads and heads, genius and genius," replied Crane. "I +guess the new-comer off as a newspaper man from Chicago or New York. It +requires first-class genius to be a good reporter." + +The stranger under discussion was now giving some directions to a porter +regarding his luggage. This he did with that peculiar readiness, or +sleight, so to call it, which belongs to none but the veteran traveler. +A moment later he came up the wooden steps of the hotel, cast a +comprehensive but apparently indifferent glance over the group of guests +and passed into the hall, where they heard him say to the boy in +waiting: "My room is 24." + +"That is the reserved room," remarked two or three persons at once. + +Great expectations hung about room 24; much guessing had been indulged +in considering who was to be the happy and exalted person chosen to +occupy it. Now he had arrived, an utter stranger to them all. Everybody +looked inquiry. + +"Who can he be?" + +"It must be Mark Twain," suggested little Mrs. Philpot, of Memphis. + +"Oh, no; Mark Twain is tall, and very handsome; I know Mark," said +Crane. + +"How strange!" ejaculated Miss Moyne, and when everybody laughed, she +colored a little and added hastily: + +"I didn't mean that it was strange that Mr. Crane should know Mr. Twain, +but----" + +They drowned her voice with their laughter and hand-clapping. + +They were not always in this very light mood at Hotel Helicon, but just +now they all felt in a trivial vein. It was as if the new guest had +brought a breath of frivolous humor along with him and had blown it over +them as he passed by. + +Room 24 was the choice one of Hotel Helicon. Every guest wanted it, on +account of its convenience, its size and the superb view its windows +afforded; but from the first it had been reserved for this favored +individual whose arrival added greater mystery to the matter. + +As the sun disappeared behind the western mountains, and the great gulf +of the valley became a sea of purplish gloom, conversation clung in half +whispers to the subject who meantime was arraying himself in evening +dress for dinner, posing before the large mirror in room 24 and smiling +humorously at himself as one who, criticising his own foibles, still +holds to them with a fortitude almost Christian. + +He parted his hair in the middle, but the line of division was very +slight, and he left a pretty, half-curled short wisp hanging over the +centre of his forehead. The wide collar that hid his short neck creased +his heavy well-turned jaws, giving to his chin the appearance of being +propped up. Although he was quite stout, his head was so broad and his +feet so small that he appeared to taper from top to toe in a way that +emphasized very forcibly his expression of blended dignity and jollity, +youth and middle age, sincerity and levity. When he had finished his +toilet, he sat down by the best window in the best room of Hotel +Helicon, and gazed out over the dusky valley to where a line of +quivering silver light played fantastically along the line of peaks that +notched the delicate blue of the evening sky. The breeze came in, cool +and sweet, with a sort of champagne sparkle in its freshness and purity. +It whetted his appetite and blew the dust of travel out of his mind. He +was glad when the dinner hour arrived. + +The long table was nearly full when he went down, and he was given a +seat between Miss Moyne and little Mrs. Philpot. By that secret cerebral +trick we all know, but which none of us can explain, he was aware that +the company had just been discussing him. In fact, someone had ventured +to wonder if he were Mr. Howells, whereupon Mr. Crane had promptly said +that he knew Mr. Howells quite well, and that although in a general +way the new-comer was not unlike the famous realist, he was far from +identical with him. + +Laurens Peck, the bushy-bearded New England critic, whispered in +someone's ear that it appeared as if Crane knew everybody, but that +the poet's lively imagination had aided him more than his eyes, in all +probability. "Fact is," said he, "a Kentuckian soon gets so that he +_thinks_ he has been everywhere and seen everybody, whether he has or +not." + +Out of this remark grew a serious affair which it will be my duty to +record at the proper place. + +Little Mrs. Philpot, who wore gold eye-glasses and had elongated dimples +in her cheeks and chin, dexterously managed to have a word or two with +the stranger, who smiled upon her graciously without attempting to enter +into a conversation. Miss Moyne fared a little better, for she had the +charm of grace and beauty to aid her, attended by one of those puffs +of good luck which come to none but the young and the beautiful. Mr. +B. Hobbs Lucas, a large and awkward historian from New York, knocked +over a bottle of claret with his elbow, and the liquor shot with an +enthusiastic sparkle diagonally across the table in order to fall on +Miss Moyne's lap. + +With that celerity which in very short and stout persons appears to +be spontaneous, a sort of elastic quality, the gentleman from room 24 +interposed his suddenly outspread napkin. The historian flung himself +across the board after the bottle, clawing rather wildly and upsetting +things generally. It was but a momentary scene, such as children at +school and guests at a summer hotel make more or less merry over, still +it drew forth from the genial man of room 24 a remark which slipped into +Miss Moyne's ear with the familiarity of well trained humor. + +"A deluge of wine in a free hotel!" he exclaimed, just above a whisper. +"Such generosity is nearly shocking." + +"I am sorry you mention it," said Miss Moyne, with her brightest and +calmest smile; "I have been idealizing the place. A gush of grape-juice +on Helicon is a picturesque thing to contemplate." + +"But a lap-full of claret on Mt. Boab is not so fine, eh? What a farce +poetry is! What a humbug is romance!" + +The historian had sunk back in his chair and was scowling at the purple +stain which kept slowly spreading through the fiber of the cloth. + +"I always do something," he sighed, and his sincerity was obvious. + +"And always with _aplomb_," remarked little Mrs. Philpot. + +"It would be a genius who could knock over a claret bottle with grace," +added Peck. "Now a jug of ale----" + +"I was present at table once with Mr. Emerson," began the Kentucky poet, +but nobody heard the rest. A waiter came with a heavy napkin to cover +the stain, and as he bent over the table he forced the man from room 24 +to incline very close to Miss Moyne. + +"To think of making an instance of Emerson!" he murmured. "Emerson who +died before he discovered that men and women have to eat, or that wine +will stain a new dress!" + +"But then he discovered so many things----" she began. + +"Please mention one of them," he glibly interrupted. "What did Emerson +ever discover? Did he ever pen a single truth?" + + "Aloft in secret veins of air + Blows the sweet breath of song," + +she replied. "He trod the very headlands of truth. But you are not +serious----" she checked herself, recollecting that she was speaking to +a stranger. + +"Not serious but emphatically in earnest," he went on, in the same +genial tone with which he had begun. "There isn't a thing but cunning +phrase-form in anything the man ever wrote. He didn't know how to +represent life." + +"Oh, I see," Miss Moyne ventured, "you are a realist." + +It is impossible to convey any adequate idea of the peculiar shade of +contempt she conveyed through the words. She lifted her head a little +higher and her beauty rose apace. It was as if she had stamped her +little foot and exclaimed: "Of all things I detest realism--of all men, +I hate realists." + +"But I kept the wine off your dress!" he urged, as though he had +heard her thought. "There's nothing good but what is real. Romance is +lie-tissue. Reality is truth-tissue." + +"Permit me to thank you for your good intentions," she said, with a +flash of irony; "you held the napkin just in the right position, but +the wine never fell from the table. Still your kindness lost nothing in +quality because the danger was imaginary." + +When dinner was over, Miss Moyne sought out Hartley Crane, the Kentucky +poet who knew everybody, and suggested that perhaps the stranger was +Mr. Arthur Selby, the analytical novelist whose name was on everybody's +tongue. + +"But Arthur Selby is thin and bald and has a receding chin. I met him +often at the--I forget the club in New York," said Crane. "It's more +likely that he's some reporter. He's a snob, anyway." + +"Dear me, no, not a snob, Mr. Crane; he is the most American man I ever +met," replied Miss Moyne. + +"But Americans are the worst of all snobs," he insisted, "especially +literary Americans. They adore everything that's foreign and pity +everything that's home-made." + +As he said this he was remembering how Tennyson's and Browning's poems +were overshadowing his own, even in Kentucky. From the ring of his voice +Miss Moyne suspected something of this sort, and adroitly changed the +subject. + + +III. + +It might be imagined that a hotel full of authors would be sure to +generate some flashes of disagreement, but, for a time at least, +everything went on charmingly at Hotel Helicon. True enough, the name of +the occupant of room 24 remained a vexatious secret which kept growing +more and more absorbing as certain very cunningly devised schemes for +its exposure were easily thwarted; but even this gave the gentleman +a most excellent excuse for nagging the ladies in regard to feminine +curiosity and lack of generalship. Under the circumstances it was not to +be expected that everybody should be strictly guarded in the phrasing +of speech, still so genial and good-humored was the nameless man and so +engaging was his way of evading or turning aside every thrust, that he +steadily won favor. Little Mrs. Philpot, whose seven year old daughter +(a bright and sweet little child) had become the pet of Hotel Helicon, +was enthusiastic in her pursuit of the stranger's name, and at last she +hit upon a plan that promised immediate success. She giggled all to +herself, like a high-school girl, instead of like a widow of thirty, as +she contemplated certain victory. + +"Now do you think you can remember, dear?" she said to May, the child, +after having explained over and over again what she wished her to do. + +"Yeth," said May, who lisped charmingly in the sweetest of child voices. + +"Well, what must you say?" + +"I muth thay: Pleathe write your--your----" + +"Autograph." + +"Yeth, your au--to--graph in my album." + +"That's right, autograph, autograph, don't forget. Now let me hear you +say it." + +"Pleathe write your autograph in my book." + +Mrs. Philpot caught the child to her breast and kissed it vigorously, +and not long afterward little May went forth to try the experiment. She +was armed with her mother's autograph album. When she approached her +victim he thought he never had seen so lovely a child. The mother had +not spared pains to give most effect to the little thing's delicate and +appealing beauty by an artistic arrangement of the shining gold hair and +by the simplest but cunningest tricks of color and drapery. + +With that bird-like shyness so winning in a really beautiful little +girl, May walked up to the stranger and made a funny, hesitating +courtesy. He looked at her askance, his smiling face shooting forth a +ray of tenderness along with a gleam of shrewd suspicion, as he made out +the album in her dimpled little hand. + +"Good morning, little one," he said cheerily. "Have you come to make a +call?" + +He held out both hands and looked so kindly and good that she smiled +until dimples just like her mother's played over her cheeks and chin. +Half sidewise she crept into his arms and held up the book. + +"Pleathe write your photograph in my book," she murmured. + +He took her very gently on his knee, chuckling vigorously, his heavy +jaws shaking and coloring. + +"Who told you to come?" he inquired, with a guilty cunning twinkle in +his gray eyes. + +"Mama told me," was the prompt answer. + +Again the man chuckled, and, between the shame he felt for having +betrayed the child and delight at the success of his perfidy, he grew +quite red in the face. He took the autograph album and turned its stiff, +ragged-edged leaves, glancing at the names. + +"Ah, this is your mama's book, is it?" he went on. + +"Yeth it is," said May. + +"And I must write my name in it?" + +"No, your--your----" + +"Well what?" + +"I don't 'member." + +He took from his pocket a stylographic pen and dashed a picturesque sign +manual across a page. + +While the ink was drying he tenderly kissed the child's forehead and +then rested his chin on her bright hair. He could hear the clack of +balls and mallets and the creak of a lazy swing down below on the +so-called lawn, and a hum of voices arose from the veranda. He looked +through the open window and saw, as in a dream, blue peaks set against +a shining rim of sky with a wisp of vultures slowly wheeling about in +a filmy, sheeny space. + +"Mama said I muthn't stay," apologized the child, slipping down from his +knee, which she had found uncomfortably short. + +He pulled himself together from a diffused state of revery and beamed +upon her again with his cheerful smile. + +She turned near the door and dropped another comical little courtesy, +bobbing her curly head till her hair twinkled like a tangle of +starbeams on a brook-ripple, then she darted away, book in hand. + +Little Mrs. Philpot snatched the album from May, as she ran to her, and +greedily rustled the leaves in search of the new record, finding which +she gazed at it while her face irradiated every shade of expression +between sudden delight and utter perplexity. In fact she could not +decipher the autograph, although the handwriting surely was not bad. +Loath as she naturally was to sharing her secret with her friends, +curiosity at length prevailed and she sought help. Everybody in turn +tried to make out the two short words, all in vain till Crane, by the +poet's subtle vision, cleared up the mystery, at least to his own +satisfaction. + +"Gaspard Dufour is the name," he asserted, with considerable show of +conscious superiority. "A Canadian, I think. In fact I imperfectly +recall meeting him once at a dinner given by the Governor General to +Lord Rosenthal at Quebec. He writes plays." + +"Another romance out of the whole cloth by the Bourbon æsthete!" +whispered the critic. "There's no such a Canadian as Gaspard Dufour, +and besides the man's a Westerner rather over-Bostonized. I can tell +by his voice and his mixed manners." + +"But Mrs. Hope would know him," suggested the person addressed. "She +meets all the Hub _literati_, you know." + +"_Literati!_" snarled the critic, putting an end to further discussion. + +A few minutes later Mr. Gaspard Dufour came down and passed out of the +hotel, taking his way into the nearest ravine. He wore a very short coat +and a slouch hat. In his hand he carried a bundle of fishing-rod joints. +A man of his build looks far from dignified in such dress, at best; but +nothing could have accentuated more sharply his absurd grotesqueness of +appearance than the peculiar waddling gait he assumed as he descended +the steep place and passed out of sight, a fish basket bobbing beside +him and a red kerchief shining around his throat. + +Everybody looked at his neighbor and smiled inquisitively. Now that they +had discovered his name, the question arose: What had Gaspard Dufour +ever done that he should be accorded the place of honor in Hotel +Helicon. No one (save Crane, in a shadowy way) had ever heard of him +before. No doubt they all felt a little twinge of resentment; but +Dufour, disappearing down the ravine, had in some unaccountable way +deepened his significance. + + +IV. + +Everybody knows that a mountain hotel has no local color, no sympathy +with its environment, no gift of making its guests feel that they are +anywhere in particular. It is all very delightful to be held aloft on +the shoulder of a giant almost within reach of the sky; but the charm of +the thing is not referable to any definite, visible cause, such as one +readily bases one's love of the sea-side on, or such as accounts for our +delight in the life of a great city. No matter how fine the effect of +clouds and peaks and sky and gorge, no matter how pure and exhilarating +the air, or how blue the filmy deeps of distance, or how mossy the +rocks, or how sweet the water, or how cool the wooded vales, the hotel +stands there in an indefinite way, with no _raison d'etre_ visible in +its make-up, but with an obvious impudence gleaming from its windows. +One cannot deport one's self at such a place as if born there. The +situation demands--nay, exacts behavior somewhat special and peculiar. +No lonely island in the sea is quite as isolated and out of the world +as the top of any mountain, nor can any amount of man's effort soften +in the least the savage individuality of mountain scenery so as to +render those high places familiar or homelike or genuinely habitable. +Delightful enough and fascinating enough all mountain hotels surely are; +but the sensation that living in one of them induces is the romantic +consciousness of being in a degree "out of space, out of time." No doubt +this feeling was heightened and intensified in the case of the guests at +Hotel Helicon who were enjoying the added novelty of entire freedom from +the petty economies that usually dog the footsteps and haunt the very +dreams of the average summer sojourner. At all events, they were mostly +a light-hearted set given over to a freedom of speech and action which +would have horrified them on any lower plane. + +Scarcely had Gaspard Dufour passed beyond sight down the ravine in +search of a trout-brook, than he became the subject of free discussion. +Nothing strictly impolite was said about him; but everybody in some way +expressed amazement at everybody's ignorance of a man whose importance +was apparent and whose name vaguely and tauntingly suggested to each one +of them a half-recollection of having seen it in connection with some +notable literary sensation. + +"Is there a member of the French institute by the name of Dufour?" +inquired R. Hobbs Lucas, the historian, thoughtfully knitting his heavy +brows. + +"I am sure not," said Hartley Crane, "for I met most of the members when +I was last at Paris and I do not recall the name." + +"There goes that Bourbon again," muttered Laurens Peck, the critic; "if +one should mention Xenophon, that fellow would claim a personal +acquaintance with him!" + +It was plain enough that Peck did not value Crane very highly, and Crane +certainly treated Peck very coolly. Miss Moyne, however, was blissfully +unaware that she was the cause of this trouble, and for that matter the +men themselves would have denied with indignant fervor any thing of the +kind. Both of them were stalwart and rather handsome, the Kentuckian +dark and passionate looking, the New Yorker fair, cool and willful +in appearance. Miss Moyne had been pleased with them both, without a +special thought of either, whilst they were going rapidly into the worry +and rapture of love, with no care for anybody but her. + +She was beautiful and good, sweet-voiced, gentle, more inclined to +listen than to talk, and so she captivated everybody from the first. + +"I think it would be quite interesting," she said, "if it should turn +out that Mr. Dufour is a genuine foreign author, like Tolstoï or Daudet +or----" + +"Realists, and nobody but realists," interposed Mrs. Philpot; "why don't +you say Zola, and have done with it?" + +"Well, Zola, then, if it must be," Miss Moyne responded; "for, barring +my American breeding and my Southern conservatism, I am nearly in +sympathy with--no, not that exactly, but we are so timid. I should like +to feel a change in the literary air." + +"Oh, you talk just as Arthur Selby writes in his critical papers. He's +all the time trying to prove that fiction is truth and that truth is +fiction. He lauds Zola's and Dostoieffsky's filthy novels to the skies; +but in his own novels he's as prudish and Puritanish as if he had been +born on Plymouth Rock instead of on an Illinois prairie." + +"I wonder why he is not a guest here," some one remarked. "I should have +thought that our landlord would have had _him_ at all hazards. Just now +Selby is monopolizing the field of American fiction. In fact I think he +claims the earth." + +"It is so easy to assume," said Guilford Ferris, whose romances always +commanded eulogy from the press, but invariably fell dead on the market; +"but I am told that Selby makes almost nothing from the sales of his +books." + +"But the magazines pay him handsomely," said Miss Moyne. + +"Yes, they do," replied Ferris, pulling his long brown mustache +reflectively, "and I can't see why. He really is not popular; there is +no enthusiasm for his fiction." + +"It's a mere vogue, begotten by the critics," said Hartley Crane. +"Criticism is at a very low ebb in America. Our critics are all either +ignorant or given over to putting on English and French airs." + +Ferris opened his eyes in a quiet way and glanced at Peck who, however, +did not appear to notice the remark. + +"There's a set of them in Boston and New York," Crane went on, "who +watch the _Revue de Deux Mondes_ and the London _Atheneum_, ready to +take the cue from them. Even American books must stand or fall by the +turn of the foreign thumb." + +"That is a very ancient grumble," said Ferris, in a tone indicative of +impartial indifference. + +"Take these crude, loose, awkward, almost obscene Russian novels," +continued Crane, "and see what a furor the critics of New York and +Boston have fermented in their behalf, all because it chanced that a +_coterie_ of Parisian literary _roués_ fancied the filthy imaginings of +Dostoieffsky and the raw vulgarity of Tolstoï. What would they say of +_you_, Ferris, if _you_ should write so low and dirty a story as _Crime +and Its Punishment_ by Dostoieffsky?" + +"Oh, I don't know, and, begging your grace, I don't care a straw," +Ferris replied; "the publishers would steal all my profits in any +event." + +"Do you really believe that?" inquired Peck. + +"Believe it? I know it," said Ferris. "When did you ever know of a +publisher advertising a book as in its fiftieth thousand so long as the +author had any royalty on the sales? The only book of mine that ever had +a run was one I sold outright in the manuscript to George Dunkirk & Co., +who publish all my works. That puerile effort is now in its ninetieth +thousand, while the best of the other six has not yet shown up two +thousand! Do you catch the point?" + +"But what difference can printing a statement of the books sold make, +anyway?" innocently inquired Miss Moyne. + +Ferris laughed. + +"All the difference in the world," he said; "the publisher would have to +account to the author for all those thousands, don't you see." + +"But they have to account, anyhow," replied Miss Moyne, with a perplexed +smile. + +"Account!" exclaimed Ferris, contemptuously; "account! yes, they have to +account." + +"But they account to me," Miss Moyne gently insisted. + +"Who are your publishers?" he demanded. + +"George Dunkirk & Co.," was the answer. + +"Well," said he, "I'll wager you anything I can come within twenty of +guessing the sales up to date of your book. It has sold just eleven +hundred and forty copies." + +She laughed merrily and betrayed the dangerous closeness of his guess by +coloring a little. + +"Oh, its invariably just eleven hundred and forty copies, no matter what +kind of a book it is, or what publisher has it," he continued; "I've +investigated and have settled the matter." + +The historian was suddenly thoughtful, little Mrs. Philpot appeared to +be making some abstruse calculation, Crane was silently gazing at the +ground and Peck, with grim humor in his small eyes, remarked that eleven +hundred and forty was a pretty high average upon the whole. + +Just at this point a figure appeared in the little roadway where it made +its last turn lapsing from the wood toward the hotel. A rather tall, +slender and angular young woman, bearing a red leather bag in one hand +and a blue silk umbrella in the other, strode forward with the pace of a +_tragedienne_. She wore a bright silk dress, leaf-green in color, and a +black bonnet, of nearly the Salvation Army pattern, was set far back on +her head, giving full play to a mass of short, fine, loosely tumbled +yellow hair. + +She was very much out of breath from her walk up the mountain, but there +was a plucky smile on her rather sallow face and an enterprising gleam +in her light eyes. + +She walked right into the hotel, as if she had always lived there, and +they heard her talking volubly to the servant as she was following him +to a room. + +Everybody felt a waft of free Western air and knew that Hotel Helicon +had received another interesting guest, original if not typical, with +qualities that soon must make themselves respected in a degree. + +"Walked from the station?" Mrs. Philpot ventured, in querulous, though +kindly interrogation. + +"Up the mountain?" Miss Moyne added, with a deprecatory inflection. + +"And carried that bag!" exclaimed all the rest. + + +V + +Gaspard Dufour, whose accumulations of adipose tissue appeared to serve +him a good turn, as he descended the steep, rocky ravine, hummed a droll +tune which was broken at intervals by sundry missteps and down-sittings +and side-wise bumps against the jutting crags. He perspired freely, +mopping his brow meantime with a vast silk kerchief that hung loosely +about his short neck. + +The wood grew denser as he descended and a damp, mouldy odor pervaded +the spaces underneath the commingling boughs of the oaks, pines, cedars, +and sassafras. Here and there a lizard scampered around a tree-hole +or darted under the fallen leaves. Overhead certain shadowy flittings +betrayed the presence of an occasional small bird, demurely going about +its business of food-getting. The main elements of the surroundings, +however, were gloom and silence. The breeze-currents astir in the valley +and rippling over the gray peaks of Mt. Boab could not enter the leafy +chambers of this wooded gorge. Heat of a peculiarly sultry sort seemed +to be stored here, for as Dufour proceeded he began at length to gasp +for breath, and it was with such relief as none but the suffocating can +fully appreciate, that he emerged into an open space surrounded, almost, +with butting limestone cliffs, but cut across by a noisy little stream +that went bubbling down into the valley through a cleft bedecked with +ferns and sprinkled with perennial dew from a succession of gentle +cascades. The ideal trout-brook was this, so far as appearances +could go. At the foot of each tiny water-fall was a swirling pool, +semi-opaque, giving forth emerald flashes and silver glints, and bearing +little cones of creamy foam round and round on its bosom. A thousand +noises, every one a water-note, rising all along the line of the brook's +broken current, clashed together with an effect like that of hearing a +far-off multitude applauding or some distant army rushing on a charge. + +So much out of breath and so deluged with perspiration was Dufour that +he flung himself upon the ground beside the brook and lay there panting +and mopping his face. Overhead the bit of sky was like turquoise, below +a slender glimpse of the valley shone between the rock walls, like a +sketch subdued almost to monochrome of crepuscular purple. A fitful +breath of cool air fell into the place, fanning the man's almost purple +cheeks and forehead, while a wood-thrush, whose liquid voice might have +been regarded as part of the water-tumult, sang in a thorn tree hard by. + +In a half-reclining attitude, Dufour gave himself over to the delicious +effect of all this, indulging at the same time in the impolite and +ridiculous, but quite Shakespearian, habit of soliloquizing. + +"Jingo!" he remarked, "Jingo! but isn't this a daisy prospect for trout! +If those pools aren't full of the beauties, then there's nothing in +Waltonian lore and life isn't worth living. Ha! Jingo! there went one +clean above the water--a ten ouncer, at least!" + +He sprang at his rod as if to break it to pieces, and the facility with +which he fitted the joints and the reel and run the line and tied the +cast was really a wonder. + +"I knew they were here," he muttered, "just as soon as I laid my eyes on +the water. Who ever did see such another brook!" + +At the third cast of the fly, a brown hackle, by the way, up came a +trout with a somersault and a misty gleam of royal purple and silver, +attended by a spray of water and a short bubbling sound. Dufour struck +deftly, hooking the beautiful fish very insecurely through the edge of +the lower lip. Immediately the reel began to sing and the rod to quiver, +while Dufour's eyes glared almost savagely and his lips pursed with +comical intensity. + +Round and round flew the trout, now rushing to the bottom of the pool, +now whisking under a projecting ledge and anon flinging itself clean +above the water and shaking itself convulsively. + +The angler was led hither and thither by his active prey, the exercise +bedewing his face again with perspiration, whilst his feet felt the cool +bath of water and the soothing embrace of tangled water-grass. The mere +switch of a bamboo rod, bent almost into a loop, shook like a rush in a +wind. + +Dufour was ill prepared to formulate a polite response when, at the +height of his sport, a gentle but curiously earnest voice exclaimed: + +"Snatch 'im out, snatch 'im out, dog gone yer clumsy hide! Snatch 'im +out, er I'll do it for ye!" + +The trout must have heard, for as the angler turned to get a hasty +glance at the stranger, up it leaped and by a desperate shake broke the +snell. + +"Confound you!" cried Dufour, his face redder than ever. "Confound your +meddlesome tongue, why didn't you keep still till I landed him?" + +There was a tableau set against the gray, lichen-bossed rocks. Two men +glaring at each other. The new-comer was a tall, athletic, brown-faced +mountaineer, bearing a gun and wearing two heavy revolvers. He towered +above Dufour and gazed down upon him as if about to execute him. The +latter did not quail, but grew angrier instead. + +"You ought to have better sense than to interfere with my sport in such +a way! Who are you, anyway?" he cried in a hot, fierce tone. + +The mountaineer stood silent for a moment, as if collecting words enough +for what he felt like saying, then: + +"See yer," he drawled, rather musically, "ef I take ye by the scruff o' +yer neck an' the heel o' yer stockin' an' jest chuck ye inter thet +puddle, ye'll begin to surmise who I air, ye saucy little duck-legged +minny-catcher, you!" + +Dufour, remembering his long training years ago at the Gentlemen's +Glove-Club, squared himself with fists in position, having flung aside +his tackle. In his righteous rage he forgot that his adversary was not +only his superior in stature but also heavily armed. + +"Well, thet' ther' do beat me!" said the mountaineer, with an +incredulous ring in his voice. "The very idee! W'y ye little aggervatin' +banty rooster, a puttin' up yer props at me! W'y I'll jest eternally and +everlastin'ly wring yer neck an' swob the face o' nature wi' ye!" + +What followed was about as indescribable as a whirlwind in dry grass. +The two men appeared to coalesce for a single wild, whirling, resounding +instant, and then the mountaineer went over headlong into the middle +of the pool with a great plash and disappeared. Dufour, in a truly +gladiatorial attitude, gazed fiercely at the large dimple in which his +antagonist was buried for the instant, but out of which he presently +projected himself with great promptness, then, as a new thought came to +him, he seized the fallen gun of the mountaineer, cocked it and leveled +it upon its owner. There was a peculiar meaning in his words as he +stormed out: + +"Lie down! down with you, or I blow a hole clean through you instantly!" + +Promptly enough the mountaineer lay down until the water rippled around +his chin and floated his flaxen beard. Some moments of peculiar silence +followed, broken only by the lapsing gurgle and murmur of the brook. + +Dufour, with arms as steady as iron bars, kept the heavy gun bearing on +the gasping face of the unwilling bather, whilst at the same time he was +dangerously fingering the trigger. The stout, short figure really had a +muscular and doughty air and the heavy face certainly looked warlike. + +"Stranger, a seein' 'at ye've got the drap onto me, 'spose we swear off +an' make up friends?" The man in the water said this at length, in the +tone of one presenting a suggestion of doubtful propriety. + +"Don't hardly think you've cooled off sufficiently, do you?" responded +Dufour. + +"This here's spring warter, ye must 'member," offered the mountaineer. + +The gun was beginning to tire Dufour's arms. + +"Well, do you knock under?" he inquired, still carelessly fumbling the +trigger. + +"Great mind ter say yes," was the shivering response. + +"Oh, take your time to consider, I'm in no hurry," said Dufour. + +If the man in the water could have known how the supple but of late +untrained arms of the man on shore were aching, the outcome might have +been different; but the bath was horribly cold and the gun's muzzle kept +its bearing right on the bather's eye. + +"I give in, ye've got me, stranger," he at last exclaimed. + +Dufour was mightily relieved as he put down the gun and watched his +dripping and shivering antagonist wade out of the cold pool. The men +looked at each other curiously. + +"Ye're the dog gone'dest man 'at ever I see," remarked the mountaineer; +"who air ye, anyhow?" + +"Oh, I'm a pretty good fellow, if you take me on the right tack," said +Dufour. + +The other hesitated a moment, and then inquired: + +"Air ye one o' them people up at the tavern on the mounting?" + +"Yes." + +"A boardin' there?" + +"Yes." + +"For all summer?" + +"Possibly." + +Again there was a silence, during which the water trickled off the +mountaineer's clothes and ran over the little stones at his feet. + +"Goin' ter make fun o' me when ye git up thar?" the catechism was at +length resumed. Dufour laughed. + +"I could tell a pretty good thing on you," he answered, taking a +sweeping observation of the stalwart fellow's appearance as he stood +there with his loose jeans trousers and blue cotton shirt clinging to +his shivering limbs. + +"See yer, now," said the latter, in a wheedling tone, and wringing his +light, thin beard with one sinewy dark hand, "see yer, now, I'd like for +ye not ter do thet, strenger." + +"Why?" + +"Well," said the mountaineer, after some picturesque hesitation and +faltering, "'cause I hev a 'quaintance o' mine up ther' at thet tavern." + +"Indeed, have you? Who is it?" + +"Mebbe ye mought be erquainted with Miss Sarah Anna Crabb?" + +"No." + +"Well, she's up ther', she stayed all night at our house las' night an' +went on up ther' this mornin'; she's a literary woman an' purty, an' +smart, an' a mighty much of a talker." + +"Ugh!" + +"Jest tell her 'at ye met me down yer, an' 'at I'm tol'ble well; but +don't say nothin' 'bout this 'ere duckin' 'at ye gi' me, will ye?" + +"Oh, of course, that's all right," Dufour hastened to say, feeling an +indescribable thrill of sympathy for the man. + +"Yer's my hand, strenger, an' w'en Wesley Tolliver gives a feller his +hand hit means all there air ter mean," exclaimed the latter, as warmly +as his condition would permit, "an' w'en ye need er friend in these +parts jest come ter me." + +He shouldered his gun, thereupon, and remarking that he might as well +be going, strode away over a spur of the mountain, his clothes still +dripping and sticking close to his muscular limbs. Dufour found his rod +broken and his reel injured, by having felt the weight of Wesley +Tolliver's foot, and so he too turned to retrace his steps. + +Such an adventure could not fail to gain in spectacular grotesqueness as +it took its place in the memory and imagination of Dufour. He had been +in the habit of seeing such things on the stage and of condemning them +out of hand as the baldest melodramatic nonsense, so that now he could +not fairly realize the matter as something that had taken place in his +life. + +He was very tired and hungry when he reached Hotel Helicon. + + +VI. + +"Oh, yes, I walked all the way up the mountain from the railroad depot," +explained the young woman whose arrival we chronicled in another +chapter, "but I stopped over night at a cabin on the way and discovered +some just delightful characters--the Tollivers--regular Craddock sort +of people, an old lady and her son." + +By some method known only to herself she had put herself upon a +speaking-plane with Dufour, who, as she approached him, was standing in +an angle of the wide wooden veranda waiting for the moon to rise over +the distant peaks of the eastern mountains. + +"I saw Mr. Tolliver to-day while whipping a brook down here," said he, +turning to look her squarely in the face. + +"Oh, did you! Isn't he a virile, villainous, noble, and altogether +melodramatic looking man? I wish there was some one here who could +sketch him for me. But, say, Mr. Dufour, what do you mean, please, when +you speak of _whipping_ a brook?" + +She took from her pocket a little red note-book and a pencil as he +promptly responded: "Whipping a brook? oh, that's angler's nonsense, it +means casting the line into the water, you know." + +"That's funny," she remarked, making a note. + +She was taller than Dufour, and so slender and angular that in +comparison with his excessive plumpness she looked gaunt and bony. In +speaking her lips made all sorts of wild contortions showing her uneven +teeth to great effect, and the extreme rapidity of her utterance gave an +explosive emphasis to her voice. Over her forehead, which projected, a +fluffy mass of pale yellow hair sprang almost fiercely as if to attack +her scared and receding chin. + +"You are from Michigan, I believe, Miss Crabb," remarked Dufour. + +"Oh, dear, no!" she answered, growing red in the face, "No, indeed. I am +from Indiana, from Ringville, associate editor of the _Star_." + +"Pardon, I meant Indiana. Of course I knew you were not from Michigan." + +"Thanks," with a little laugh and a shrug, "I am glad you see the +point." + +"I usually do--a little late," he remarked complacently. + +"You are from Boston, then, I infer," she glibly responded. + +"Not precisely," he said, with an approving laugh, "but I admit that I +have some Bostonian qualities." + +At this point in the conversation she was drooping over him, so to say, +and he was sturdily looking up into her bright, insistent face. + +"What a group!" said Crane to Mrs. Bridges, a New York fashion editor. +"I'd give the best farm in Kentucky (so far as my title goes) for a +photograph of it! Doesn't she appear to be just about to peck out his +eyes!" + +"Your lofty imagination plays you fantastic tricks," said Mrs. Bridges. +"Is she the famous Western _lady_ reporter?" + +"The same, of the _Ringville Star_. I met her at the Cincinnati +convention. It was there that Bascom of the _Bugle_ called her a bag of +gimlets, because she bored him so." + +"Oh!" + +This exclamation was not in response to what Crane had said, but it +was an involuntary tribute to the moon-flower just flaring into bloom +between twin peaks lying dusky and heavy against the mist of silver +and gold that veiled the sweet sky beyond. A semi-circle of pale +straw-colored fire gleamed in the lowest angle of the notch and sent up +long, wavering lines of light almost to the zenith, paling the strongest +stars and intensifying the shadows in the mountain gorges and valleys. +Grim as angry gods, the pines stood along the slopes, as if gloomily +contemplating some dark scheme of vengeance. + +"A real Sapphic," said Crane, dropping into a poetical tone, as an +elocutionist does when he is hungry for an opportunity to recite a +favorite sketch. + +"Why a Sapphic?" inquired the matter-of-fact fashion-editor. + +"Oh, don't you remember that fragment, that glorious picture Sappho's +divine genius has made for us--" + +He quoted some Greek. + +"About as divine as Choctaw or Kickapoo," she said. "I understand the +moon-shine better. In fact I have a sincere contempt for all this +transparent clap-trap you poets and critics indulge in when you got upon +your Greek hobby. Divine Sappho, indeed! A lot of bald bits of jargon +made famous by the comments of fogies. Let's look at the moon, please, +and be sincere." + +"Sincere!" + +"Yes, you know very well that if you had written the Sapphic fragments +the critics would----" + +"The critics! What of them? They are a set of disappointed poetasters +themselves. Blind with rage at their own failures, they snap right and +left without rhyme or reason. Now there's Peck, a regular----" + +"Well, sir, a regular _what_?" very coolly demanded the critic who had +stepped forth from a shadowy angle and now stood facing Crane. + +"A regular star-gazer," said Mrs. Bridges. "Tell us why the planets +yonder all look so ghastly through the shimmering moonlight." + +Peck, without reply, turned and walked away. + +"Is he offended?" she asked. + +"No, he gives offence, but can not take it." + +Mrs. Bridges grew silent. + +"We were speaking of Sappho," observed Crane, again gliding into an +elocutionary mood. "I have translated the fragment that I repeated a +while ago. Let me give it to you. + + "When on the dusky violet sky + The full flower of the moon blooms high + The stars turn pale and die!" + +Just then Miss Moyne, dressed all in white, floated by on Peck's arm, +uttering a silvery gust of laughter in response to a cynical observation +of the critic. + +"What a lovely girl she is," said Mrs. Bridges. "Mr. Peck shows fine +critical acumen in being very fond of her." + +Crane was desperately silent. "He's a handsome man, too, and I suspect +it's a genuine love affair," Mrs. Bridges went on, fanning herself +complacently. Back and forth, walking slowly and conversing in a soft +minor key, save when now and then Miss Moyne laughed melodiously, the +promenaders passed and repassed, Peck never deigning to glance toward +Crane, who had forgotten both Sappho and the moon. Miss Moyne did, +however, once or twice turn her eyes upon the silent poet. + +"Oh," went on Miss Crabb, filling Dufour's ears with the hurried din of +her words, "Oh, I'm going to write a novel about this place. I never saw +a better chance for local color, real transcripts from life, original +scenes and genuine romance all tumbled together. Don't you think I might +do it?" + +"It does appear tempting," said Dufour. "There's Tolliver for instance, +a genuine Chilhowee moonshiner." He appeared to laugh inwardly as he +spoke. Indeed he heard the plash of water and the dripping, shivering +mountaineer stood forth in his memory down there in the gorge. + +"A moonshiner!" gasped Miss Crabb, fluttering the leaves of her +note-book and writing by moonlight with a celerity that amazed Dufour. + +"Potentially, at least," he replied evasively. "He looks like one and he +don't like water." + +"If he _does_ turn out to be a real moonshiner," Miss Crabb proceeded +reflectively to say, "it will be just too delicious for anything. I +don't mind telling you, confidentially, Mr. Dufour, that I am to write +some letters while here to the _Chicago Daily Lightning Express_. So I'd +take it as a great favor if you'd give me all the points you get." + +"That's interesting," he said, with a keen scrutiny of her face for a +second. "I shall be glad to be of assistance to you." + +He made a movement to go, but lingered to say: "Pray give me all the +points, too, will you?" + +"Oh, are you a journalist too?" she inquired, breathlessly hanging over +him. "What paper--" + +"I'm not much of anything," he hurriedly interposed, "but I like to know +what is going on, that's all." + +He walked away without further excuse and went up to his room. + +"I've got to watch him," soliloquized Miss Crabb, "or he'll get the +scoop of all the news. Give him points, indeed! Maybe so, but not till +after I've sent them to the _Lightning Express_! I'll keep even with +him, or know the reason why." + +It was a grand panorama that the climbing moon lighted up all around +Mount Boab, a vast billowy sea of gloom and sheen. Here were shining +cliffs, there dusky gulches; yonder the pines glittered like steel-armed +sentinels on the hill-tops, whilst lower down they appeared to skulk +like cloaked assassins. Shadows came and went, now broad-winged and +wavering, again slender and swift as the arrows of death. The hotel was +bright within and without. Some one was at the grand piano in the hall +making rich music--a fragment from Beethoven,--and a great horned owl +down the ravine was booming an effective counterpoint. + +Crane stood leaning on the railing of the veranda and scowling savagely +as Peck and Miss Moyne continued to promenade and converse. He was, +without doubt, considering sinister things. Mrs. Bridges, finding him +entirely unsympathetic, went to join Miss Crabb, who was alone where she +had been left by Dufour. Meantime, up in his room, with his chair tilted +far back and his feet thrust out over the sill of an open window, +Dufour was smoking a fragrant Cuban cigar, (fifty cents at retail) and +alternating smiles with frowns as he contemplated his surroundings. + +"Authors," he thought, "are the silliest, the vainest, and the most +impractical lot of human geese that ever were plucked for their valuable +feathers. And newspaper people! Humph!" He chuckled till his chin shook +upon his immaculate collar. "Just the idea, now, of that young woman +asking me to furnish her with points!" + +There was something almost jocund blent with his air of solid +self-possession, and he smoked the precious cigars one after another +with prodigal indifference and yet with the perfect grace of him to the +manner born. + +"Hotel Helicon on Mt. Boab!" he repeated, and then betook himself to +bed. + + +VII. + +Some people are born to find things out--to overhear, to reach a place +just at the moment in which an event comes to pass there--born indeed, +with the news-gatherer's instinct perfectly developed. Miss Crabb was +one of these. How she chanced to over-hear some low-spoken but deadly +sounding words that passed between Peck and Crane, it would be hard to +say; still she overheard them, and her heart jumped almost into her +mouth. It was a thrillingly dramatic passage, there under the +heavy-topped oak by the west veranda in the gloom. + +"Villain!" exclaimed Crane, in the hissing voice of a young +tragedy-player at rehearsal, + +"Villain! you shall not escape me. Defend yourself!" + +"Nonsense," said Peck, "you talk like a fool. I don't want to fight! +What's that you've got in your hand?" + +"A sword, you cowardly craven!" + +"You call me a coward! If I had a good club I should soon show you what +I could do, you sneaking assassin!" + +More words and just as bitter followed, till at last a fight was agreed +upon to take place immediately, at a certain point on the verge of a +cliff not far away. There were to be no seconds and the meeting was to +end in the death of one or both of the combatants. + +To Miss Crabb all this had a sound and an appearance as weird as +anything in the wildest romance she ever had read. It was near +mid-night; the hotel was quite soundless and the moon on high made the +shadows short and black. + +"Meet me promptly at the Eagle's Nest in ten minutes," said Crane, "I'll +fetch my other sword and give you choice." + +"All right, sir," responded Peck, "but a club would do." + +The peculiar hollowness of their voices affected the listener as if +the sounds had come from a tomb. She felt clammy. Doubtless there is a +considerable element of humorous, almost ludicrous bravado in such a +scene when coolly viewed; but Miss Crabb could not take a calm, critical +attitude just then. At first she was impelled almost irresistibly toward +interfering and preventing a bloody encounter; but her professional +ambition swept the feeling aside. Still, being a woman, she was +dreadfully nervous. "Ugh!" she shuddered, "it will be just awful, but I +can't afford to miss getting the full particulars for the _Lightning +Express_. A sure enough duel! It will make my fortune! Oh, if I were a +man, now, just only for a few hours, what a comfort it would be! But all +the same I must follow them--I must see the encounter, describe it as +an eye-witness and send it by wire early in the morning." + +It occurred to her mind just then that the nearest telegraph station was +twelve miles down the mountain, but she did not flinch or waver. The +thought that she was required to do what a man might well have shrunk +from gave an element of heroism to her pluck. She was conscious of this +and went about her task with an elasticity and facility truly admirable. + +Eagle's Nest was the name of a small area on the top of a beetling cliff +whose almost perpendicular wall was dotted with clumps of sturdy little +cedar trees growing out of the chinks. It was a dizzy place at all +times, but by night the effect of its airy height was very trying on any +but the best nerves. Crane and Peck both were men of fine physique and +were possessed of stubborn courage and great combativeness. They met on +the spot and after choosing swords, coolly and promptly proceeded to the +fight. On one hand, close to the cliff's edge, was a thick mass of small +oak bushes, on the other hand lay a broken wall of fragmentary stones. +The footing-space was fairly good, though a few angular blocks of stone +lay here and there, and some brushes of stiff wood-grass were scattered +around. + +Crane led with more caution than one would have expected of an irate +Kentuckian, and Peck responded with the brilliant aplomb of an +enthusiastic duelist. + +The swords were neither rapiers nor broad-swords, being the ordinary +dress-weapons worn by Confederate Infantry officers in the war +time--weapons with a history, since they had been at the thigh of father +and son, the bravest of Kentucky Cranes, through many a stormy battle. + +Peck's back was toward the precipice-brink at the commencement of the +engagement, but neither had much the advantage, as the moon was almost +directly overhead. As their weapons began to flash and clink, the +slender keen echoes fell over into the yawning chasm and went rattling +down the steep, ragged face of the precipice. They were vigorous and +rather good fencers and it would have been evident to an onlooker of +experience that the fight was to be a long one, notwithstanding the +great weight of the swords they were using. They soon began to fight +fiercely and grew more vehemently aggressive each second, their blows +and thrusts and parries and counter-cuts following each other faster and +faster until the sounds ran together and the sparks leaped and shone +even in the bright moonlight. They mingled broad-sword exercise with +legitimate rapier fencing and leaped about each other like boxers, their +weapons whirling, darting, rising, falling, whilst their breathing +became loud and heavy. It was a scene to have stirred the blood of men +and women four hundred years ago, when love was worth fighting for and +when men were quite able and willing to fight for it. + +The combatants strained every point of their strength and skill, and +not a drop of blood could either draw. Slash, thrust, whack, clink, +clank, clack, click, cling! Round and round they labored, the fury of +their efforts flaming out of their eyes and concentrating in the deep +lines of their mouths. As if to listen, the breeze lay still in the +trees and the great owl quit hooting in the ravine. Faster and faster +fell the blows, swifter and keener leaped the thrusts, quicker and surer +the parries were interposed. The swords were hacked and notched like +hand-saws, the blades shook and hummed like lyre-cords. Now close to +the cliff's edge, now over by the heap of broken stones and then close +beside the clump of oak bushes, the men, panting and sweating, their +muscles knotted, their sinews leaping like bow-strings, their eyes +standing out, as if starting from their sockets, pursued each other +without a second's rest or wavering. + +At last, with an irresistible spurt of fury, Crane drove Peck right into +the bushes with a great crash and would not let him out. The critic +was not vanquished, however, for, despite the foliage and twigs, he +continued to parry and thrust with dangerous accuracy and force. + +Just at this point a strange thing happened. Right behind Peck there was +a tearing, crashing sound and a cry, loud, keen, despairing, terrible, +followed immediately by the noise of a body descending among the cedars +growing along the face of the awful precipice. + +It was a woman's voice, shrieking in deadly horror that then came up +out of the dizzy depth of space below! + +The men let fall their swords and leaped to the edge of the cliff with +the common thought that it was Miss Moyne who had fallen over. They +reeled back giddy and sick, staggering as if drunken. + +Far down they had seen something white fluttering and gleaming amid a +tuft of cedars and a quavering voice had cried: + +"Help, help, oh, help!" + +And so the duel was at an end. + + +VIII. + +Hotel Helicon was shaken out of its sleep by the startling rumor to the +effect that Miss Moyne had fallen down the precipice at Eagle's Nest. + +Of all the rudely awakened and mightily frightened inmates, perhaps Miss +Moyne herself was most excited by this waft of bad news. She had been +sleeping very soundly in dreamless security and did not at first +feel the absurdity of being told that she had just tumbled down the +escarpment, which in fact she never yet had summoned the courage to +approach, even when sustained by a strong masculine arm. + +"O dear! how did it happen?" she demanded of her aunt, Mrs. Coleman +Rhodes, who had rushed upon her dainty couch with the frightful +announcement of her accident. + +"Oh, Alice! you are here, you are not hurt at all! Oh!" Mrs. Rhodes went +on, "and what _can_ it all mean!" + +Everybody rushed out, of course, as soon as hurried dressing would +permit, and fell into the confusion that filled the halls and main +veranda. + +Crane was talking in a loud, but well modulated strain, explaining the +accident: + +"Mr. Peck and I," he went on to say, "were enjoying a friendly turn at +sword-play up here at Eagle's Nest; couldn't sleep, needed exercise, and +went up there so as not to disturb any one. While we were fencing she +came rushing past through those bushes and leaped right over with a +great shriek. She--" + +"Don't stop to talk," cried Mr. E. Hobbs Lucas, with a directness and +clearness quite unusual in a historian. "Don't stop to talk, let's go do +something!" + +"Yes, come on," quavered poor Peck, his face whiter than the moon and +his beard quivering in sympathy with his voice. + +"Oh, it's dreadful, awful!" moaned little Mrs. Philpot, "poor, dear Miss +Moyne, to think that she is gone!" and she leaned heavily on Miss +Moyne's shoulder as she spoke. + +It was a strange scene, too confused for the best dramatic effect, +but spectacular in the extreme. Servants swarmed out with lights that +wavered fantastically in the moonshine, while the huddled guests swayed +to and fro in a body. Every face was pinched with intense excitement +and looked haggard under its crown of disheveled hair. Even the hotel +windows stared in stupid horror, and the kindly countenances of the +negro waiters took on a bewildered and meaningless grin set in a black +scowl of superstition and terror. + +When Dufour came upon the scene, he did not appear in the least +flurried, and the first thing he did was to lay his hand on Miss Moyne's +shoulder and exclaim in a clear tenor strain: + +"Why, here! it's all a mistake! What are you talking about? Here's Miss +Moyne! Here she stands!" + +"Mercy! where?" enquired little Mrs. Philpot, who was still leaning on +her friend and shedding bitter tears. + +Dufour, with a quiet: "Please don't take offence," put a hand on either +side of Miss Moyne and lifted her so that she stood in a chair looking +very sweetly down over the crowd of people. + +Few indeed are they who can look beautiful under such circumstances, but +Miss Moyne certainly did, especially in the eyes of Crane and Peck as +they gazed up at her. + +Forthwith the tragedy became a farce. + +"That Kentuckian must romance, I suppose," grumbled R. Hobbs Lucas. +"Wonder what he'll tell next." + +"I don't see how I could be so mistaken," said Peck, after quiet had +been somewhat restored, "I would have willingly been sworn to--" + +He was interrupted by a dozen voices hurling ironical phrases at him. + +"It is every word truth," exclaimed Crane testily. "Do you suppose I +would trifle with so--" + +"Oh, don't you absolutely know that we suppose just that very thing?" +said Lucas. + +With the return of self-consciousness the company began to scatter, the +ladies especially scampering to their rooms with rustling celerity. The +men grumbled not a little, as if being deprived of a shocking accident +touched them with a sting. + +"The grotesque idea!" ejaculated Dufour. "Such a practical +joke--impractical joke, I might better say, could originate only between +a poet and a critic." + +Everybody went back to bed, feeling more or less injured by Crane and +Peck, who shared in their own breasts the common impression that they +had made great fools of themselves. If these crest-fallen knights, so +lately militant and self-confident, had any cause of quarrel now it +was based upon a question as to which should feel the meaner and which +should more deeply dread to meet Miss Moyne on the morrow. + +As for Miss Moyne herself she was indignant although she tried to quiet +her aunt, who was ready to shake the dust of Mt. Boab from her feet at +once. + +Next morning, however, when it was discovered that Miss Crabb was +missing and that after all something tragic probably had happened, +everybody felt relieved. + + +IX + +Mr. Wesley Tolliver might well have served the turn of romancer or +realist, as he stood in the shadow of a cedar-clump with the mysterious +stillness of midnight all around him. He was a very real and substantial +looking personage, and yet his gun, his pistols, his fantastic mountain +garb and the wild setting in which he was framed gave him the appearance +of a strong sketch meant to illustrate a story by Craddock. Above him +towered the cliff at Eagle's Nest and near by was the mountain "Pocket" +in which nestled the little distillery whose lurking-place had long been +the elusive dream of utopian revenue officers. In a space of brilliant +moonlight, Tolliver's dog, a gaunt, brindle cur, sat in statuesque +worthlessness, remembering no doubt the hares he never had caught and +the meatless bones he had vainly buried during a long ignoble life. + +The hotel and its inmates had rendered the distillery and its furtive +operatives very uneasy of late, and now as Tolliver in his due turn +stood guard by night he considered the probability of having to look +for some better situation for his obscure manufactory with a species of +sadness which it would be impossible to describe. He thought with deep +bitterness of all the annoyance he had suffered at the hands of meddling +government agents and from the outside world in general and he tried +to understand how any person could pretend to see justice in such +persecution. What had he done to merit being hunted like a wild beast? +Nothing but buy his neighbor's apples at the fair price of twenty cents +a bushel and distil them into apple brandy! Could this possibly be any +injury to any government official, or to anybody else? He paid for his +still, he paid for the apples, he paid fair wages to the men who worked +for him, what more could be justly demanded of him? + +It was while he was wholly absorbed in trying to solve this knotty +problem that far above a strange clink and clatter began, which sounded +to him as if it were falling from among the stars. Nothing within his +knowledge or experience suggested an explanation of such a phenomenon. +He felt a thrill of superstitious terror creep through his iron nerves +as the aerial racket increased and seemed to whisk itself from place to +place with lightning celerity. An eccentric echo due to the angles and +projections of the cliff added weird effect to the sounds. + +The dog uttered a low plaintive whine and crept close to his master, and +even wedged himself with tremulous desperation between the knees of that +wondering and startled sentinel. + +The clinking and clanging soon became loud and continuous, falling in +a cataract down the escarpment, accompanied now and again by small +fragments of stone and soil. + +At last Tolliver got control of himself sufficiently, and looked out +from his shadowy station and up towards the dizzy crown of Eagle's +Nest. + +Just at that moment there was a crash and a scream. He saw a +wide-winged, ghostly object come over the edge and swoop down. Another +scream, another and another, a tearing sound, a crushing of cedar +boughs, a shower of small stones and lumps of soil. + +Tolliver, frightened as he never before had been, turned and fled, +followed by his ecstatic dog. + +A voice, keen, clear, high, beseeching pursued him and reached his ears. + +"Help! help! Oh, help!" + +Surely this was the "Harnt that walks Mt. Boab!" This syren of the +mountains had lured many a hunter to his doom. + +"Oh, me! Oh, my! Oh, mercy on me! Help! help!" + +Tolliver ran all the faster, as the voice seemed to follow him, turn as +he would. He bruised his shins on angular rocks, he ran against trees, +he fell over logs, and at last found himself hopelessly entangled in a +net of wild grape-vines, with his enthusiastic dog still faithfully +wriggling between his knees. + +The plaintive voice of the syren, now greatly modified by distance, +assailed his ears with piteous persistence, as he vainly struggled to +free himself. The spot was dark as Erebus, being in the bottom of a +ravine, and the more he exerted himself the worse off he became. + +It was his turn to call for help, but if any of his friends heard they +did not heed his supplications, thinking them but baleful echoes of the +Harnt's deceitful voice. + +It was at the gray of dawn when at last Tolliver got clear of the +vines and made his way out of the ravine. By this time he had entirely +overcome his fright, and with that stubbornness characteristic of all +mountain men, he betook himself back to the exact spot whence he had so +precipitately retreated. His dog, forlornly nonchalant, trotted behind +him to the place and resumed the seat from which the Harnt had driven +him a few hours ago. In this attitude, the animal drooped his nose and +indifferently sniffed a curious object lying near. + +"What's thet ther' thing, Mose?" inquired Tolliver, addressing the dog. + +"Well I'll ber dorg-goned!" he added, as he picked up a woman's bonnet. +"If this here don't beat the worl' an' all camp meetin'! Hit air--well, +I'll ber dorged--hit air--I'm er ghost if hit aint Miss Sara' Anna +Crabb's bonnet, by Ned!" + +He held it up by one silk string and gazed at it with a ludicrously +puzzled stare. The dog whined and wagged his tail in humble sympathy +with his master's bewilderment. + +"Hit's kinder interestin', haint it, Mose?" Tolliver went on dryly. +"We'll hev ter look inter this here thing, won't we, Mose?" + +As for Mose, he was looking into it with all his eyes. Indeed he was +beginning to show extreme interest, and his tail was pounding the +ground with great rapidity. + +Suddenly a thought leaped into Tolliver's brain and with a start he +glanced up the escarpment, his mouth open and his brown cheeks betraying +strong emotion. Mose followed his master's movements with kindling eyes, +and whined dolefully, his wolfish nose lifted almost vertically. + +"Is that you, Mr. Tolliver?" fell a voice out of a cedar clump a little +way up the side of the cliff. + +"Hit air me," he responded, as he saw Miss Crabb perched among the +thick branches. She had her little red note-book open and was writing +vigorously. Her yellow hair was disheveled so that it appeared to +surround her face with a flickering light which to Tolliver's mind gave +it a most beautiful and altogether lovely expression. + +"Well, I'll ber--" he checked himself and stood in picturesque suspense. + +"Now, Mr. Tolliver, won't you please help me down from here?" she +demanded, closing her note-book and placing her pencil behind her ear. +"I'm awfully cramped, sitting in this position so long." + +The chivalrous mountaineer did not wait to be appealed to a second time, +but laying down his gun to which he had clung throughout the night, he +clambered up the steep face of the rock, from projection to projection, +until he reached the tree in which Miss Crabb sat. Meantime she watched +him with admiring eyes and just as he was about to take her in his arms +and descend with her she exclaimed: + +"Wait a moment, I might lose the thought, I'll just jot it down." + +She took her note-book and pencil again and hurriedly made the following +entry: _Sinewy, virile, lithe, hirsute, fearless, plucky, bronzed, +vigorous, lank, Greek-eyed, Roman-nosed, prompt, large-eared, typical +American. Good hero for dramatic, short, winning dialect story. The +magazines never refuse dialect stories._ + +"Now, if you please, Mr. Tolliver, I will go with you." + +It was an Herculean labor, but Tolliver was a true hero. With one arm +wound around her, after the fashion of the serpent in the group of the +Laocoön, and with her long yellow hair streaming in crinkled jets over +his shoulder, he slowly made his way down to the ground. + +Meantime Mose, the dog, with true canine sympathy and helpfulness, had +torn the bonnet into pathetic shreds, and was now lying half asleep +under a tree with a bit of ribbon in his teeth. + +"Well, I'll jest ber--beg parding Miss Crabb, but thet ther dog hev et +up yer head-gear," said Tolliver as he viewed with dilating eyes the +scattered fragments. + +She comprehended her calamity with one swift glance, but she had caught +a new dialect phrase at the same time. + +"Head-gear, you call it, I believe?" she inquired, again producing book +and pencil. + +"Beg parding all over, Miss Crabb, I meant bonnet," he hurried to say. + +"Oh, it's all right, I assure you," she replied, writing rapidly, "it's +a delightfully fresh and artistic bit of special coloring." + +Miss Crabb's clothes were badly torn and she looked as if she had spent +the night wretchedly, but with the exception of a few slight scratches +and bruises she was unhurt. + +"Well jes' look a there, will ye!" exclaimed Tolliver as he spied Mose. +There was more of admiration than anger in his voice. "Ef thet ther +'fernal dog haint got yer chin-ribbon in his ole mouth, I'm er rooster!" + +"Chin-ribbon," repeated Miss Crabb, making a note, "I'm er rooster," and +she smiled with intense satisfaction. "You don't know, Mr. Tolliver, how +much I am indebted to you." + +"Not a tall, Miss Crabb, not a tall. Don't mention of it," he humbly +said, "hit taint wo'th talkin' erbout." + +The morning was in full blow now and the cat-birds were singing sweetly +down the ravine. Overhead a patch of blue sky gleamed and burned with +the true empyrean glow. Far away, down in the valley by the little +river, a breakfast horn was blown with many a mellow flourish and a cool +gentle breeze with dew on its wings fanned Miss Crabb's sallow cheeks +and rustled Tolliver's tawny beard. At the sound of the horn Mose sprang +to his feet and loped away with the bit of ribbon fluttering from his +mouth. + + +X. + +It was late in the forenoon before it was discovered at Hotel Helicon +that Miss Crabb was missing, and even then there arose so many doubts +about the tragic side of the event that before any organized search +for her had been begun, she returned, appearing upon the scene mounted +behind Wesley Tolliver on a small, thin, wiry mountain mule. + +Crane and Peck each drew a deep, swift sigh of relief upon seeing her, +for the sense of guilt in their breasts had been horrible. They had by +tacit conspiracy prevented any examination of Eagle's Nest, for they +dreaded what might be disclosed. Of course they did not mean to hide the +awful fate of the poor girl, nor would they willingly have shifted the +weight of their dreadful responsibility, but it was all so much like +a vivid dream, so utterly strange and theatrical as it arose in their +memories, that they could not fully believe in it. + +Miss Crabb looked quite ludicrous perched behind the tall mountaineer +on such a dwarfish mule. Especially comical was the effect of the +sun-bonnet she wore. She had accepted this article of apparel from +Tolliver's mother, and it appeared to clutch her head in its stiff folds +and to elongate her face by sheer compression. + +Everybody laughed involuntarily, as much for joy at her safe return as +in response to the demand of her melodramatic appearance. + +"I've brung back yer runerway," said Tolliver cheerily, as he helped the +young woman to dismount. "She clim down the mounting by one pertic'ler +trail an' I jes' fotch her up by t'other." + +Miss Crabb spoke not a word, but ran into the hotel and up to her room +without glancing to the right or to the left. In her great haste the +stiff old sun-bonnet fell from her head and tumbled upon the ground. + +"Wush ye'd jes' be erbligin' enough ter han' thet there head-gear up ter +me, Mister," said Tolliver addressing Crane, who was standing near. "My +mammy'd raise er rumpage ef I'd go back 'thout thet ther bonnet." + +With evident reluctance and disgust Crane gingerly took up the fallen +article and gave it to Tolliver, who thanked him so politely that all +the onlooking company felt a glow of admiration for the uncouth and yet +rather handsome cavalier. + +"Thet gal," he observed, glancing in the direction that Miss Crabb had +gone, "she hev the winnin'est ways of any gal I ever seed in my life. Ye +orter seen 'er up inter thet there bush a writin' in 'er book! She'd +jes' tumbled kerwhummox down the clift an' hed lodged ther' in them +cedars; but as she wer' a writin' when she started ter fall w'y she +struck a writin' an' jes' kep' on at it same's if nothin' had happened. +She's game, thet ole gal air, I tell ye! She don't propose for any +little thing like fallin' off'n a clift, ter interfere with w'at she's a +doin' at thet time, le' me say ter ye. Lord but she wer' hongry, though, +settin' up ther a writin' all night, an' it'd a done ye good to a +seen 'er eat thet chicken and them cake-biscuits my mammy cooked for +breakfast. She air a mos' alarmin' fine gal, for a fac'." + +At this point Dufour came out of the hotel, and when Tolliver saw him +there was an instantaneous change in the expression of the mountaineer's +face. + +"Well I'll ber dorged!" he exclaimed with a smile of delight, "ef ther' +haint the same leetle John the Baptis' what bapsonsed me down yer inter +the branch! Give us yer baby-spanker, ole feller! How air ye!" + +Dufour cordially shook hands with him, laughing in a jolly way. + +"Fust an' only man at ever ducked me, I'm here ter say ter ye," Tolliver +went on, in a cheery, half-bantering tone, and sitting sidewise on the +mule. "Ye mus' hev' a sight o' muscle onto them duck legs and bantam +arms o' your'n." + +He had the last word still in his mouth when the little beast suddenly +put down its head and flung high its hind feet. + +"Woirp!" they heard him cry, as he whirled over in the air and fell +sprawling on the ground. + +Dufour leaped forward to see if the man was hurt, but Tolliver was +upright in an instant and grinning sheepishly. + +"Thet's right, Bonus," he said to the mule which stood quite still in +its place, "thet's right ole fel, try ter ac' smart in comp'ny. Yer a +beauty now, ain't ye?" + +He replaced his hat, which had fallen from his head, patted the mule +caressingly on the neck, then lightly vaulting to the old saddle-tree, +he waved his hand to the company and turning dashed at a gallop down the +mountain road, his spurs jingling merrily as he went. + +"What a delicious character!" + +"What precious dialect!" + +"How typically American!" + +"A veritable hero!" + +Everybody at Hotel Helicon appeared to have been captivated by this +droll fellow. + +"How like Tolstoi's lovely Russians he is!" observed Miss Fidelia +Arkwright, of Boston, a near-sighted maiden who did translations and who +doted on virile literature. + +"When I was in Russia, I visited Tolstoi at his shoe-shop--" began +Crane, but nobody appeared to hear him, so busy were all in making notes +for a dialect story. + +"Tolstoi is the greatest fraud of the nineteenth century," said Peck. +"That shoe-making pretence of his is about on a par with his genius in +genuineness and sincerity. His novels are great chunks of raw filth, +rank, garlic garnished and hideous. We touch them only because the +French critics have called them savory. If the _Revue de Deux Mondes_ +should praise a Turkish novel we could not wait to read it before we +joined in. Tolstoi is remarkable for two things: his coarseness and his +vulgar disregard of decency and truth. His life and his writings are +alike crammed with absurdities and contradictory puerilities which would +be laughable but for their evil tendencies." + +"But, my dear sir, how then do you account for the many editions of +Tolstoi's books?" inquired the historian, R. Hobbs Lucas. + +"Just as I account for the editions of Cowper and Montgomery and +Wordsworth and even Shakespeare," responded Peck. "You put a ten per +cent. author's royalty on all those dear classics and see how soon +the publishers will quit uttering them! If Tolstoi's Russian raw meat +stories were put upon the market in a fair competition with American +novels the latter would beat them all hollow in selling." + +"Oh, we ought to have international copyright," plaintively exclaimed a +dozen voices, and so the conversation ended. + +Strangely enough, each one of the company in growing silent did so in +order to weigh certain suggestions arising out of Peck's assertions. It +was as if a score of semi-annual statements of copyright accounts were +fluttering in the breeze, and it was as if a score of wistful voices had +whispered: + +"How in the world do publishers grow rich when the books they publish +never sell?" + +Perhaps Gaspard Dufour should be mentioned as appearing to have little +sympathy with Peck's theory or with the inward mutterings it had +engendered in the case of the rest of the company. + +If there was any change in Dufour's face it was expressed in a smile of +intense self-satisfaction. + + +XI. + +It was, of course, not long that the newspapers of our wide-awake +country were kept from giving their readers very picturesque glimpses of +what was going on among the dwellers on Mt. Boab. The humorists of the +press, those charming fellows whose work is so enjoyable when performed +upon one's neighbor and so excruciating when turned against oneself, +saw the vulnerable points of the situation and let go a broadside of +ridicule that reverberated from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It became +a matter of daily amusement among the inmates of Hotel Helicon to come +together in little groups and discuss these humorous missiles fired upon +them from California, Texas, Arkansas and Wisconsin, from Brooklyn, +Pittsburgh, Atlanta, and Oil-City, Detroit and--, but from everywhere, +indeed. + +When it came to Miss Crabb's adventure, every humorist excelled himself +in descriptive smartness and in cunning turns of ironical phrasing. The +head-line experts did telling work in the same connection. All this was +perfectly understood and enjoyed at home, but foreigners, especially the +English, stubbornly insisted upon viewing it as the high-water mark of +American refinement and culture. + +When that genial periodical, the Smartsburgh _Bulldozer_, announced with +due gravity that Miss Crabb, a Western journalist, had leaped from the +top of Mt. Boab to the valley below, and had been caught in the arms of +a stalwart moonshiner, where she safely reposed, etc., the London +_Times_ copied the paragraph and made it a text for a heavy editorial +upon the barbaric influences of Republican institutions, to which the +American Minister felt bound to advert in a characteristic after-dinner +speech at a London club. So humorous, however, were his remarks that he +was understood to be vigorously in earnest, and the result was perfect +confirmation of the old world's opinion as to the rudimentary character +of our national culture. + +Meantime Hotel Helicon continued to be the scene of varied if not +startling incidents. In their search for local color and picturesque +material, the litterateurs invaded every nook and corner of the region +upon and round about Mt. Boab, sketching, making notes, recording +suggestions, studying dialect, and filling their minds with the uncouth +peculiarities of the mountain folk. + +"It has come to this," grumbled Peck, "that American literature, its +fiction I mean, is founded on dialect drivel and vulgar yawp. Look at +our magazines; four-fifths of their short stories are full of negro +talk, or cracker lingo, or mountain jibberish, or New England farm +yawp, or Hoosier dialect. It is horribly humiliating. It actually makes +foreigners think that we are a nation of green-horns. Why, a day or two +ago I had occasion to consult the article on American literature in the +Encyclopædia Britannica and therein I was told in one breath how great +a writer and how truly American Mr. Lowell is, and in the next breath +I was informed that a poem beginning with the verse, 'Under the yaller +pines I house' is one of his master-pieces! Do you see? Do you catch the +drift of the Englishman's argument? To be truly great, _as an American_, +one must be surpassingly vulgar, even in poetry!" + +This off-hand shower of critical observation had as little effect upon +the minds of Peck's hearers as a summer rain has on the backs of a flock +of ducks. They even grew more vehement in their pursuit of local color. + +"When I was spending a month at Rockledge castle with Lord Knownaught," +said Crane, "his lordship frequently suggested that I should make a poem +on the life of Jesse James." + +"Well, why didn't you do it?" inquired Miss Crabb with a ring of +impatience in her voice, "if you had you might have made a hit. You +might have attracted some attention." + +Dufour laughed heartily, as if he had caught some occult humor from the +young woman's words. + +"I did write it," said Crane retrospectively, "and sent it to George +Dunkirk & Co." + +"Well?" sighed Miss Crabb with intense interest. + +"Well," replied Crane, "they rejected the MS. without reading it." + +Again Dufour laughed, as if at a good joke. + +"George Dunkirk & Co.!" cried Guilford Ferris, the romancer, "George +Dunkirk & Co.! They are thieves. They have been making false reports on +copyright to me for five years or more!" + +Dufour chuckled as if his jaws would fall off, and finally with a red +face and gleaming humorous eyes got up from the chair he was filling on +the veranda, and went up to his room. + +The rest of the company looked at one another inquiringly. + +"Who is he, anyhow?" demanded Peck. + +"That's just my query," said Ferris. + +"Nobody in the house knows anything definite about him," remarked R. +Hobbs Lucas. "And yet he evidently is a distinguished person, and his +name haunts me." + +"So it does me," said Miss Moyne. + +"I tell you he's a newspaper reporter. His cheek proves that," remarked +Peck. + +Miss Crabb made a note, her own cheek flaming. "I presume you call that +humor," she observed, "it's about like New York's best efforts. In the +West reporters are respectable people." + +"I beg pardon," Peck said hastily, "I did not mean to insinuate that +anybody is not respectable. Everybody is eminently respectable if I +speak of them. I never trouble myself with the other kind." + +"Well, I don't believe that Mr. Dufour is a reporter at all," replied +Miss Crabb, with emphasis, "for he's not inquisitive, he don't make +notes, and he don't appear to be writing any." + +"In my opinion he's a realist--a genuine analytical, motive-dissecting, +commonplace-recording, international novelist in disguise," said Ferris. + +"Oh!" + +"Ah!" + +"Dear me!" + +"But who?" + +"It may be Arthur Selby himself, incog. Who knows?" + +"Humph!" growled Crane with a lofty scrowl, "I should think I ought to +know Selby. I drank wine with him at--" + +His remark was cut short by the arrival of the mail and the general +scramble that followed. + +Upon this occasion the number of newspapers that fell to the hand of +each guest was much greater than usual, and it was soon discovered that +Miss Crabb's latest letter had been forwarded to a "syndicate" and was +appearing simultaneously in ninety odd different journals. + +No piece of composition ever was more stunningly realistic or more +impartially, nay, abjectly truthful than was that letter. It gave +a minute account of the quarrel between Peck and Crane over their +attentions to Miss Moyne, the fight, Miss Crabb's fall, the subsequent +adventures and all the hotel gossip of every sort. It was personal to +the last degree, but it was not in the slightest libelous. No person +could say that any untruth had been told, or even that any tinge of +false-coloring had been laid upon the facts as recorded; and yet how +merciless! + +Of course Miss Crabb's name did not appear with the article, save as +one of its subjects, and she saw at once that she had better guard her +secret. + +That was a breeze which rustled through Hotel Helicon. Everybody was +supremely indignant; but there was no clue to the traitor who had +thus betrayed everybody's secrets. It would be absurd to suppose that +Miss Crabb was not suspected at once, on account of her constant and +superfluous show of note-making, still there were others who might be +guilty. Crane and Peck were indignant, the former especially ready to +resent to the death any allusion to the details of the duel. Miss Moyne +with the quick insight of a clever and gifted young woman, comprehended +the situation in its general terms and was vexed as much as amused. The +whole thing had to her mind the appearance of a melodramatic, broadly +sensational sketch, in which she had played the part of the innocent, +unconscious, but all-powerful heroine. Indeed the newspaper account +placed her in this unpleasant attitude before a million readers. + +"A lucky affair for you, Miss Moyne," said Dufour to her, a few days +later, "you cannot over-reckon the boom it will give to your latest +book. You may expect a pretty round sum with your next copyright +statement." + +He spoke with the voice and air of one who knew how to read the signs of +the day. + +"But the ridiculous idea of having all this stuff about me going the +rounds of the newspapers!" she responded, her beautiful patrician face +showing just a hint of color. + +"Don't care for it a moment," said Dufour, "it will not hurt you." + +"The thought of having that hideous picture in all the patent inside +pages of the cheap press, with my name under it, _en toutes lettres_, +and--why it is horrible!" she went on, with trembling lips. + +Dufour smiled upon her, as if indulgently, a curious, tender gleam in +his eyes. + +"Wait," he said, "and don't allow it to trouble you. The world +discriminates pretty well, after all. It will not hurt you. It's a +mighty boom for you." + +She looked at him with a sudden flash in her cheeks and eyes, and +exclaimed almost vehemently: "I will not permit it! They shall not +do it. I cannot bear to be treated as if--as if I were a theatrical +person--a variety actress!" + +"My dear Miss Moyne," he hurriedly said, his own face showing a tinge of +embarrassment, "you are taking a wrong point of view, indeed you are. +Wait till you see the out-come." His tone was humble and apologetic as +he continued--"My opinion is that this very thing will quadruple the +sales of your book." + +"I don't want them quadrupled," she cried, "just look at that front hair +and that nose!" She held up a newspaper for him to inspect a picture of +herself, a miserable, distorted thing. "It is absolutely disgraceful. +My dresses never fit like that, and who ever saw me with a man's collar +on!" + +Tears were in her beautiful eyes. + +Dufour consoled her as best he could, though he could not resist the +temptation to suggest that even a caricature of her face was sure to +have in it the fascination of genuine loveliness, a suggestion which was +phrased with consummate art and received with an appearance of innocence +that was beyond all art. + + +XII. + +Summer on Mt. Boab was much like summer on any other mountain, and life +at Hotel Helicon was very like life at any other mountain hotel, save +that a certain specialization due to the influence of literature and art +was apparent in the present instance, giving to the house, the landscape +and the intercourse of the guests a peculiar tinge, so to say, of +self-consciousness and artificiality. Not that these authors, thus drawn +together by the grace of a man grown suddenly rich, were very different +from men and women of other lines in life, the real peculiarity sprang +out of the obligation by which every one felt bound to make the most, in +a professional way, of the situation and the environment. Perhaps there +was not a soul under the broad roof of Hotel Helicon, servants excepted, +that did not secrete in its substance the material for a novel, a poem, +or an essay which was to brim with the local life and flash with the +local color of the region of Mt. Boab. Yes, there appeared to be one +exception. Dufour constantly expressed a contempt for the mountaineers +and their country. + +"To be sure," he conceded, "to be sure there is a demand for dialect +stories, and I suppose that they must be written; but for my part I +cannot see why we Americans must stultify ourselves in the eyes of all +the world by flooding our magazines, newspapers and books with yawp +instead of with a truly characteristic American literature of a high +order. There is some excuse for a quasi-negro literature, and even the +Creoles might have a niche set apart for them, but dialect, on the +whole, is growing to be a literary bore." + +"But don't you think," said Miss Crabb, drawing her chin under, and +projecting her upper teeth to such a degree that anything like realistic +description would appear brutal, "don't you think, Mr. Dufour, that Mr. +Tolliver would make a great character in a mountain romance?" + +"No. There is nothing great in a clown, as such," he promptly answered. +"If Tolliver is great he would be great without his jargon." + +"Yes," she admitted, "but the picturesqueness, the color, the contrast, +you know, would be gone. Now Craddock--" + +"Craddock is excellent, so long as there is but one Craddock, but when +there are some dozens of him it is different," said Dufour, "and it is +the process of multiplication that I object to. There's Cable, who is +no longer a genius of one species. The writers of Creole stories are +swarming by the score, and, poor old Uncle Remus! everybody writes negro +dialect now. Literary claim-jumpers are utterly conscienceless. The book +market will soon be utterly ruined." + +Miss Crabb puffed out her lean sallow cheeks and sighed heavily. + +"I had hoped," she said, "to get my novel on the market before this, but +I have not yet found a publisher to suit me." + +She winced inwardly at this way of expressing the fact that every +publisher, high and low, far and near, had declined her MS. out of hand; +but she could not say the awful truth in its simpliest terms, while +speaking to one so prosperous as Dufour. She felt that she must at all +hazards preserve a reasonable show of literary independence. Crane came +to her aid. + +"One publisher is just as good as another," he said almost savagely. +"They are all thieves. They report every book a failure, save those they +own outright, and yet they all get rich. I shall publish for myself my +next volume." + +Dufour smiled grimly and turned away. It was rather monotonous, this +iteration and reiteration of so grave a charge against the moral +character of publishers, and this threat of Crane's to become his own +publisher was a bit of unconscious and therefore irresistible humor. + +"It's too pathetic to be laughed at," Dufour thought, as he strolled +along to where Miss Moyne sat under a tree, "but that Kentuckian +actually thinks himself a poet!" + +With all his good nature and kind heartedness, Dufour could be +prejudiced, and he drew the line at what he called the "prevailing +tendency toward boastful prevarication among Kentucky gentlemen." + +As he walked away he heard Crane saying: + +"George Dunkirk & Co. have stolen at least twenty thousand dollars in +royalties from me during the past three years." + +It was the voice of Ferris that made interrogative response: + +"Is Dunkirk your publisher?" + +"Yes, or rather my robber." + +"Glad of it, misery loves company." + +Dufour half turned about and cast a quick glance at the speakers. He did +not say anything, however, but resumed his progress toward Miss Moyne, +who had just been joined by Mrs. Nancy Jones Black, a stoutish and +oldish woman very famous on account of having assumed much and done +little. Mrs. Nancy Jones Black was from Boston. She was president of the +Woman's Antiquarian Club, of the Ladies' Greek Association, of The +Sappho Patriotic Club, of the Newport Fashionable Near-sighted Club for +the study of Esoteric Transcendentalism, and it may not be catalogued +how many more societies and clubs. She was a great poet who had never +written any great poem, a great essayist whom publishers and editors +avoided, whom critics regarded as below mediocrity, but of whom +everybody stood in breathless awe, and she was an authority in many +literary and philosophical fields of which she really knew absolutely +nothing. She was a reformer and a person of influence who had made a +large number of her kinsfolk famous as poets and novelists without any +apparent relevancy between the fame and the literary work done. If your +name were Jones and you could trace out your relationship to Mrs. Nancy +Jones Black and could get Mrs. Nancy Jones Black interested in your +behalf, you could write four novels a year with great profit ever +afterward. + +As Dufour approached he heard Miss Moyne say: + +"I publish my poor little works with George Dunkirk & Co. and the firm +has been very kind to me. I feel great encouragement, but I don't see +how I can bear this horrible newspaper familiarity and vulgarity." + +"My dear child," said Mrs. Nancy Jones Black, placing her plump, +motherly hand on the young woman's arm, "you must not appear to notice +it. Do as did my daughter Lois when they assailed her first little novel +with sugar-plum praise. Why, when it began to leak out that Lois was +the author of _A Sea-Side Symphony_ the poor girl was almost smothered +with praise. Of course I had to take the matter in hand and under my +advice Lois went abroad for six months. When she returned she found +herself famous." + +"Talking shop?" inquired Dufour, accepting the offer of a place on the +bench beside Mrs. Black. + +"Yes," said she, with a comprehensive wave of her hand, "I am taking +Miss Moyne under my wing, so to say, and am offering her the comfort of +my experience. She is a genius whom it doesn't spoil to praise. She's +going to be the next sensation in the East." + +"I suggested as much to her," said Dufour. "She is already on a strong +wave, but she must try and avoid being refractory, you know." He said +this in a straightforward, business way, but his voice was touched with +a certain sort of admirable tenderness. + +Miss Moyne was looking out over the deep, hazy valley, her cheeks still +warm with the thought of that newspaper portrait with its shabby clothes +and towsled bangs. What was fame, bought at such a price! She bridled a +little, but did not turn her head as she said. + +"I am not refractory, I am indignant, and I have a right to be. They +cannot justify the liberty they have taken, besides I will not accept +notoriety--I--" + +"There, now, dear, that is what Lois said, and Milton John Jones, +my nephew, was at first bound that he wouldn't let Tom, my brother, +advertise him; but he soon saw his way clear, I assure you, and now he +publishes four serials at once. Be prudent, dear, be prudent." + +"But the idea of picturing me with great barbaric rings in my ears and +with a corkscrew curl on each side and--" + +Dufour interrupted her with a laugh almost hearty enough to be called a +guffaw, and Mrs. Black smiled indulgently as if at a clever child which +must be led, not driven. + +"Being conscious that you really are stylish and beautiful, you needn't +care for the picture," said Dufour, in a tone of sturdy sincerity. + +"There is nothing so effective as a foil," added Mrs. Black. + +Miss Moyne arose and with her pretty chin slightly elevated walked away. + +"How beautiful she is!" exclaimed Dufour, gazing after her, "and I am +delighted to know that you are taking an interest in her." + +Mrs. Black smiled complacently, and with a bland sidewise glance at him, +remarked: + +"She grows upon one." + +"Yes," said he, with self-satisfied obtuseness, "yes, she is magnetic, +she is a genuine genius." + +"Precisely, she stirs one's heart strangely," replied Mrs. Black. + +"Yes, I have noted that; it's very remarkable." + +"You should speak of it to her at the first opportunity." + +Dufour started a little, flushed and finally laughed as one does who +discovers a bit of clever and harmless treachery. + +"If I only dared," he presently said, with something very like fervor in +his tone. "If I only dared." + +Mrs. Black looked at him a moment, as if measuring in her mind his +degree of worthiness, then with a wave of her hand she said: + +"Never do you dare to dare. Mr. Crane stands right in your path." + +Dufour leaped to his feet with the nimbleness and dangerous celerity of +a tiger. + +"Crane!" he exclaimed with a world of contempt in his voice, "If he--" +but he stopped short and laughed at himself. + +Mrs. Black looked at him with a patronizing expression in her eyes. + +"Leave it to me," she said, in her most insinuating tone. + + +XIII. + +Crane tried not to show the bitterness he felt as he saw his hope of +winning the favor of Miss Moyne fading rapidly out, but now and again a +cloud of irresistible melancholy fell upon him. + +At such times it was his habit to lean upon the new fence that +circumscribed Hotel Helicon and dreamily smoke a cigar. He felt a blind +desire to assassinate somebody, if he could only know who. Of course not +Peck, for Peck, too, was disconsolate, but somebody, anybody who would +claim the place of a successful rival. + +One morning while he stood thus regaling himself with his tobacco and +his misery, Tolliver rode up, on a handsome horse this time, and, +lifting his broad hat, bowed picturesquely and said: + +"Good mornin,' Kyernel, how're ye this mornin'?" + +"Good morning," growled Crane. + +Tolliver looked off over the valley and up at the sky which was flecked +with tags of fleece-cloud. + +"Hit look like hit mought rain in er day er two," he remarked. + +"Yes, I don't know, quite likely," said Crane, gazing evasively in +another direction. + +"Ever'body's well, I s'pose, up ther' at the tavern?" inquired Tolliver. + +"I believe so," was the cold answer. + +Tolliver leaned over the pommel of his saddle-tree and combed his +horse's mane with his sinewy fingers. Meantime the expression in his +face was one of exceeding embarrassment blent with cunning. + +"Kyernel, c'u'd ye do a feller a leetle yerrent what's of importance?" +he asked with peculiar faltering. + +"Do what?" inquired Crane lifting his eye-brows and turning the cigar in +his mouth. + +"Jest a leetle frien'ly job o' kindness," said Tolliver, "jest ter +please ask thet young leddy--thet Miss Crabb 'at I fotch up yer on er +mule tother day, ye know; well, jest ax her for me ef I moughtn't come +in an' see 'er on pertic'lar an' pressin' business, ef ye please, sir." + +By this time the mountaineer's embarrassment had become painfully +apparent. Any good judge of human nature could have seen at once that he +was almost overcome with the burden and worry of the matter in hand. His +cheeks were pale and his eyes appeared to be fading into utter vacancy +of expression. Crane told him that there was no need to be particularly +formal, that if he would go in and ask for Miss Crabb she would see him +in the parlor. + +"But, Kyernel, hit's er private, sort er confidential confab 'at I must +hev wi' 'er, an'----" + +"Oh, well, that's all right, you'll not be interrupted in the parlor." + +"Air ye pine blank shore of it, Kyernel?" + +"Certainly." + +"Dead shore?" + +"Quite, I assure you." + +Crane had become interested in Tolliver's affair, whatever it might be. +He could not keep from sharing the man's evident intensity of mood, and +all the time he was wondering what the matter could be. Certainly no +common-place subject could so affect a man of iron like Tolliver. The +poet's lively imagination was all aglow over the mystery, but it could +not formulate any reasonable theory of explanation. + +Miss Crabb appeared in the parlor promptly and met Tolliver with a +cordiality that, instead of reassuring him, threw him into another fit +of embarrassment from which he at first made no effort to recover. His +wide-brimmed hat, as he twirled it on his knees, quivered convulsively +in accord with the ague of excitement with which his whole frame was +shaking. He made certain soundless movements with his lips, as if +muttering to himself. + +Miss Crabb at first did not notice his confusion, and went on talking +rapidly, reiterating thanks for the kindness he had shown her in her +recent mishap, and managing to put into her voice some tones that to him +sounded very tender and sweet. + +"You don't know--you can't imagine, Mr. Tolliver, what I suffered during +that awful night," she said, turning her head to one side and drawing +her chin under until it almost disappeared in the lace at her throat. +"It was horrible." + +Tolliver looked at her helplessly, his mouth open, his eyes dull and +sunken. + +"How did you happen to discover me up there, anyway, Mr. Tolliver?" she +demanded, leaning toward him and laughing a little. + +"The dog he treed ye, an' then I seed ye settin' up ther' er writin' +away," he managed to say, a wave of relief passing over his face at the +sound of his own voice. + +"It was perfectly ridiculous, perfectly preposterous," she exclaimed, +"but I'm mighty thankful that I was not hurt." + +"Yes, well ye mought be, Miss Crabb," he stammered out. "Wonder ye +wasn't scrunched inter pieces an' scattered all eround ther'." + +She slipped out her book, took a pencil from over her ear and made a +note. + +Tolliver eyed her dolefully. "How do you spell scrunched, Mr. Tolliver, +in your dialect?" she paused to inquire. + +His jaw fell a little lower for a moment, then he made an effort: + +"S--q--r--u--" he paused and shook his head, "S--q--k--no thet's not +hit--s--k--q--r--dorg ef I ken spell thet word--begging yer parding, hit +air 'tirely too hard for me." He settled so low in his chair that his +knees appeared almost as high as his head. + +"All right," she cheerily exclaimed, "I can get it phonetically. It's +a new word. I don't think either Craddock or Johnson uses it, it's +valuable." + +There was a silence during which Miss Crabb thoughtfully drummed on her +projecting front teeth with the end of her pencil. + +Tolliver nerved himself and said: + +"Miss Crabb I--I, well, ye know, I--that is, begging yer parding, but I +hev something' I want er say ter ye, ef ye please." He glanced furtively +around, as if suspecting that some person lay secreted among the +curtains of a bay window hard by. And indeed, Dufour was there, lightly +indulging in a morning nap, while the mountain breeze flowed over him. +He was in a deep bamboo chair behind those very curtains. + +"Oh, certainly, certainly, Mr. Tolliver, go on, I shall be delighted, +charmed indeed, to hear what you have to say," Miss Crabb responded, +turning a fresh leaf of her note-book and putting on a hopeful look. + +"I hope ye'll stick ter thet after I've done said it ter ye," he +proceeded to say, "but dorg on me ef I know how ter begin sayin' it." + +"Oh, just go right on, it's all right; I assure you, Mr. Tolliver, I am +very anxious to hear." + +"Mebbe ye air, I don't dispute yer word, but I feel mighty onery all the +same." + +"Onery is a Western word," mused Miss Crabb, making a note. + +"Proceed, Mr. Tolliver," she continued after a pause, "proceed, I am +listening with great interest." + +"What I'm ergwine ter state ter ye mought mek ye mad, but hit can't be +holp, I jest hev ter say it--I air jest erbleeged ter say it." + +His voice was husky and he was assuming a tragic air. Miss Crabb felt a +strange thrill creep throughout her frame as a sudden suspicion seemed +to leap back and forth between her heart and her brain. + +"No, I assure you that I could not be angry with you, Mr. Tolliver, +under any circumstances," she murmured, "you have been so very kind to +me." + +"Hit air awful confusin' an' hit mek a feller feel smaller 'n a mouse +ter speak it right out, but then hit air no foolishness, hit air pine +blank business." + +"Of course," said Miss Crabb pensively, "of course you feel some +embarrassment." + +He hitched himself up in his chair and crossed his legs. + +"Ef ye don't like w'at I say, w'y I won't blame ye a bit. I feel jest as +if I wer a doin' somethin' 'at I hadn't orter do, but my mammy she say I +must, an' that do everlastin'ly settle it." + +"Yes, your mother's advice is always safe." + +"Safe, I shed say so! Hit's mighty onsafe fer me not ter foller it, I +kin tell ye. She'd thump my old gourd fer me in ermazin' style ef I +didn't." + +"Thump my old gourd," repeated Miss Crabb, making a note. "Go on, Mr. +Tolliver, please." + +"S'pose I mought as well, seein' 'at it has ter be said." He paused, +faltered, and then proceeded: "Well, beggin' yer parding, Miss Crabb, +but ever sence ye wer' down ther' ter we all's cabin, hit's been a +worryin' my mammy and me, an' we hev' talked it all over an' over." + +"Yes," sighed Miss Crabb. + +"Hit's not the cost of them beads, Miss Crabb, they air not wo'th much, +but they was guv ter mammy by her aunt Mandy Ann Bobus, an' she feel +like she jest can't give 'em up." + +Miss Crabb looked puzzled. + +"Ef ye'll jest erblige me an' hand them beads over ter me, I'll never +say er wo'd ter nobody ner nothin." + +"Mr. Tolliver, what in the world do you mean?" cried Miss Crabb, rising +and standing before him with a face that flamed with sudden anger. + +"Ye mought er tuck 'em kinder accidentally, ye know," he suggested in a +conciliatory tone, rising also. + +"Mr. Tolliver!" she almost screamed. + +"Ther' now, be still, er ye'll let ever'body know all erbout it," he +half whispered. "Hit'd be disgraceful." + +"Mr. Tolliver!" + +"Sh-h-h! They'll hear ye!" + +"Get right out of this room, you--" + +Just then Dufour, who had been slowly aroused from his nap and who while +yet half asleep had overheard much of what had been said, stepped forth +from behind the curtains and stood looking from one to the other of the +excited actors in the little drama. + +"What's up?" he, demanded bluntly. + +"He's accusing me of stealing beads!" cried Miss Crabb. "He's insulting +me!" + +"What!" exclaimed Dufour, glaring at Tolliver. + +"I feel mighty onery a doin' it," said Tolliver, "but hit air pine blank +mighty suspicious, Kyernel, hit air for a fac'." + +Dufour looked as if he hardly knew which he should do, laugh +boisterously, or fling Tolliver out of the window, but he quickly pulled +himself together and said calmly: + +"You are wrong, sir, and you must apologize." + +"Certingly, certingly," said Tolliver, "thet air jest what I air a +doin'. I beg parding er thousan' times fer sayin' what I hev, but, +Kyernel, hit air a Lor' a mighty's truth, all the same, le' me tell ye. +Them beads was ther' w'en she come, an' they was gone w'en she was gone, +an'--" + +"Stop that! Take back those words or I'll throw you--" + +Dufour took a step towards Tolliver, but stopped suddenly when the +latter drew a huge revolver with one hand and a long crooked bowie-knife +with the other and said: + +"No yer don't, Kyernel, not by er good deal. Jest ye open yer bread-trap +ergain an' I'll jest clean up this ole shanty in erbout two minutes." + +It may not be inferred how this bit of dramatic experience would have +ended had not a lean, wizzen-faced mountain lad rushed in just then with +a three-cornered piece of paper in his hand upon which was scrawled the +following message: + +"I hev fown them beeds. They wus in mi terbacker bag." + +Tolliver read this and wilted. + +The boy was panting and almost exhausted. He had run all the way up the +mountain from the Tolliver cabin. + +"Yer mammy say kum home," he gasped. + +"Hit air jest as I 'spected," said Tolliver. "Mammy hev made a pine +blank eejit of me again." He handed the message to Dufour as he spoke. +His pistol and knife had disappeared. + +A full explanation followed, and at the end of a half-hour Tolliver went +away crest-fallen but happy. + +As for Miss Crabb she had made a number of valuable dialect notes. + +Dufour promised not to let the rest of the guests know what had just +happened in the parlor. + + +XIV. + +"Literature-making has not yet taken the rank of a profession, but of +late the world has modified its opinion as to the ability of literary +people to drive a close bargain, or to manage financial affairs with +success. Many women and some men have shown that it is possible for a +vivid imagination and a brilliant style in writing to go close along +with a practical judgment and a fair share of selfish shrewdness in +matters of bargain and sale. Still, after all, it remains true that a +strong majority of literary people are of the Micawber genus, with great +faith in what is to turn up, always nicely balancing themselves on the +extreme verge of expectancy and gazing over into the promise-land of +fame and fortune with pathetically hopeful, yet awfully hollow eyes. +Indeed there is no species of gambling more uncertain in its results or +more irresistibly fascinating to its victims than literary gambling. +Day after day, month after month, year after year, the deluded, +enthusiastic, ever defeated but never discouraged writer plies his pen, +besieges the publishers and editors, receives their rebuffs, rough or +smooth, takes back his declined manuscripts, tries it over and over, +sweats, fumes, execrates, coaxes, bullies, raves, re-writes, takes a new +_nom de plume_ and new courage, goes on and on to the end. Here or there +rumor goes that some fortunate literator has turned the right card and +has drawn a great prize; this rumor, never quite authentic, is enough to +re-invigorate all the fainting scribblers and to entice new victims +into the gilded casino of the Cadmean vice. The man who manipulates the +literary machine is the publisher, that invisible person who usually +grows rich upon the profits of unsuccessful books. He it is who +inveigles the infatuated young novelist, essayist, or poet, into the +beautiful bunco-den of the book business and there fastens him and holds +him as long as he will not squeal; but at the first note of remonstrance +he kicks him out and fills his place with a fresh victim. The literary +Micawber, however, does not despair. He may be a little silly from the +effect of the summersault to which the publisher's boot has treated him, +but after a distraught look about him he gets up, brushes the dust off +his seedy clothes and goes directly back into the den again with another +manuscript under his arm and with a feverish faith burning in his +deep-set eyes. What serene and beautiful courage, by the way, have the +literary women! Of course the monster who presides at the publisher's +desk cannot be as brutal to her as he is to men, but he manipulates her +copyright statements all the same, so that her book never passes the +line of fifteen hundred copies sold. How can we ever account for a woman +who has written forty-three novels under such circumstances and has +died, finally, a devout Christian and a staunch friend of her publisher? +Poor thing! up to the hour of her demise, white-haired, wrinkled, +over-worked, nervous and semi-paralytic, she nursed the rosy hope that +to-morrow, or at the very latest, the day after to-morrow, the reward +of all her self-devotion would come to her in the form of a liberal +copyright statement from her long-suffering and charitable publisher. + +"Out in the West they have a disease called milk-sickness, an awful +malady, of which everybody stands in deadly terror, but which nobody +has ever seen. If you set out to find a case of milk-sickness it is +like following a _will-o'-the-wisp_, it is always just a little way +farther on, over in the next settlement; you never find it. The really +successful author in America is, like the milk-sickness, never visible, +except on the remote horizon. You hear much of him, but you never have +the pleasure of shaking his cunning right hand. The fact is, he is a +myth. On the other hand, however, the American cities are full of +successful publishers who have become millionaires upon the profits of +books which have starved their authors. Of course this appears to be a +paradox, but I suppose that it can be explained by the rule of profit +and loss. The author's loss is the publisher's profit." + +The foregoing is, in substance, the opening part of an address delivered +by Ferris before the assembled guests of Hotel Helicon. + +Mrs. Nancy Jones Black presided at the meeting; indeed she always +presided at meetings. On this occasion, which was informal and +impromptu, Ferris was in excellent mood for speaking, as he just had +been notified by a letter from Dunkirk & Co. that he was expected to pay +in advance for the plates of his new romance, _A Mysterious Missive_, +and that a personal check would not be accepted--a draft on New York +must be sent forthwith. Although Ferris was a thoroughly good fellow, +who cared nothing for money as money, this demand for a sum the half +of which he could not command if his life were at stake, hit him like +a bullet-stroke. A chance to talk off the soreness of the wound was +accepted with avidity. He felt guilty of a meanness, it is true, in thus +stirring up old troubles and opening afresh ancient hurts in the breasts +of his listening friends; but the relief to him was so great that he +could not forego it. "The American publisher," he went on, "proclaims +himself a fraud by demanding of the author a contract which places the +author's business wholly in the control of the publisher. I take it that +publishers are just as honest and just as dishonest, as any other class +of respectable men. You know and I know, that, as a rule, the man +who trusts his business entirely to others will, in the long run, be +robbed. Administrators of estates rob the heirs, in two-thirds of the +instances, as every probate lawyer well knows. Every merchant has to +treat his clerks and salesmen as if they were thieves, or if he do not +they will become thieves. The government has to appoint bank examiners +to watch the bankers, and yet they steal. The Indian agents steal from +the government. Senators steal, aldermen steal, Wall street men steal +from one another and from everybody else. Canada is overflowing with men +who have betrayed and robbed those who trusted their business with them. +Even clergymen (that poorly paid and much abused class) now and again +fall before the temptation offered by the demon of manipulated returns +of trust funds. The fact is, one may feel perfectly safe in saying that +in regard to all the professions, trades, and occupations, there is +absolutely no safety in trusting one's affairs wholly in the hands of +another. (Great applause). Even your milkman waters the milk and the +dairyman sells you butter that never was in a churn. If you neglect to +keep a pass-book your grocer runs up the bill to--(a great rustle, and +some excited whispering) up to something enormous. Of course it is not +everybody that is dishonest, but experience shows that if a man has +the temptation to defraud his customers constantly before him, with +absolutely no need to fear detection, he will soon reason himself into +believing it his right to have the lion's share of all that goes into +his hands. + +"Now isn't it strange, in view of the premises, that nobody ever heard +of such a thing as a publisher being convicted of making false returns? +Is it possible that the business of book-publishing is so pure and good +of itself that it attracts to it none but perfect men? (Great applause). +Publishers do fail financially once in a while, but their books of +accounts invariably show that just eleven hundred and forty copies of +each copyrighted book on their lists have been sold to date, no more, no +less. (Suppressed applause). Nobody ever saw cleaner or better balanced +books of accounts than those kept by the publishers. They foot up +correctly to a cent. Indeed it would be a very strange thing if a +man couldn't make books balance under such circumstances! (Prolonged +hand-clapping). I am rather poor at double entry, but I fancy I could +make a credit of eleven hundred and forty copies sold, so as to have it +show up all right. (Cheers). I must not lose my head in speaking on this +subject, for I cannot permit you to misunderstand my motive. So long as +authors submit to the per centum method of publication, so long they +will be the prey of the publishers. The only method by which justice +can be assured to both author and publisher is the cash-sale method. If +every author in America would refuse to let his manuscript go out of +hand before he had received the cash value for it, the trade would soon +adjust itself properly. In that case the author's reputation would be +his own property. So soon as he had made an audience his manuscripts +would command a certain price. If one publisher would not pay enough +for it another would. As the method now is, it makes little difference +whether the author have a reputation or not. Indeed most publishers +prefer to publish the novels, for example, of clever tyros, because +these fledglings are so proud of seeing themselves in print that +they never think of questioning copyright statements. Eleven hundred +and forty copies usually will delight them almost beyond endurance. +(Laughter and applause). Go look at the book lists of the publishers and +you will feel the truth of what I have said. + +"Now let me ask you if you can give, or if any publisher can give +one solitary honest reason why the publishing business should not be +put upon a cash basis--a manuscript for so much money? The publisher +controls his own business, he knows every nook and corner, every +leaf and every line of it, and he should be able to say, just as the +corn-merchant does, I will give you so much, to which the author would +say: I will take it, or I will not take it. But what is the good of +standing here and arguing? You believe every word I speak, but you don't +expect to profit by it. You will go on gambling at the publisher's faro +table just as long as he will smile and deal the cards. Some of these +days you will win, you think. Poor deluded wretches, go on and die in +the faith!" + +No sooner had Ferris ended than Lucas the historian arose and expressed +grave doubts as to the propriety of the address. He was decidedly of the +opinion that authors could not afford to express themselves so freely +and, if he must say it, recklessly. How could Mr. Ferris substantiate by +proof any of the damaging allegations he had made against publishers of +high standing? What Mr. Ferris had said might be strictly true, but the +facts were certainly, very hard to come at, he thought. He hoped that +Mr. Ferris's address would not be reported to the press (here he glanced +appealingly at Miss Crabb), at least not as the sense of the meeting. +Such a thing would, in his opinion, be liable to work a great harm to +all present. He felt sure that the publishers would resent the whole +thing as malicious and libellous. + +Throughout the audience there was a nervous stirring, a looking at one +another askance. It was as if a cold wave had flowed over them. Nobody +had anything further to say, and it was a great relief when Dufour moved +an adjournment _sine die_, which was carried by a vote that suggested a +reserve of power. Every face in the audience, with the exception of +Dufour's, wore a half-guilty look, and everybody crept silently out of +the room. + + +XV. + +It caused quite a commotion on Mt. Boab when Bartley Hubbard and Miss +Henrietta Stackpole, newspaper people from Boston, arrived at Hotel +Helicon. Miss Stackpole had just returned from Europe, and Bartley +Hubbard had run down from Boston for a week to get some points for his +paper. She had met Mr. Henry James on the continent and Hubbard had +dined with Mr. Howells just before leaving Boston. + +No two persons in all the world would have been less welcome among the +guests at the hotel, just then, than were these professional reporters. +Of course everybody tried to give them a cordial greeting, but they were +classed along with Miss Crabb as dangerous characters whom it would be +folly to snub. Miss Moyne was in downright terror of them, associating +the thought of them with those ineffable pictures of herself which were +still appearing at second and third hand in the "patent insides" of the +country journals, but she was very good to them, and Miss Stackpole +at once attached herself to her unshakably. Hubbard did likewise with +little Mrs. Philpot, who amused him mightily with her strictures upon +analytical realism in fiction. + +"I do think that Mr. Howells treated you most shamefully," she said to +him. "He had no right to represent you as a disagreeable person who was +cruel to his wife and who had no moral stamina." + +Hubbard laughed as one who hears an absurd joke. "Oh, Howells and I have +an understanding. We are really great friends," he said. "I sat to him +for my portrait and I really think he flattered me. I managed to keep +him from seeing some of my ugliest lines." + +"Now you are not quite sincere," said Mrs. Philpot, glancing over him +from head to foot. "You are not so bad as he made you out to be. It's +one of Mr. Howells's hobbies to represent men as rather flabby +nonentities and women as invalids or dolls." + +"He's got the men down fine," replied Hubbard, "but I guess he is rather +light on women. You will admit, however, that he dissects feminine +meanness and inconsequence with a deft turn." + +"He makes fun of women," said Mrs. Philpot, a little testily, "he +caricatures them, wreaks his humor on them; but you know very well that +he misrepresents them even in his most serious and _quasi_ truthful +moods." + +Hubbard laughed, and there was something essentially vulgar in the notes +of the laugh. Mrs. Philpot admitted this mentally, and she found herself +shrinking from his steadfast but almost conscienceless eyes. + +"I imagine I shouldn't be as bad a husband as he did me into, but--" + +Mrs. Philpot interrupted him with a start and a little cry. + +"Dear me! and aren't you married?" she asked in exclamatory deprecation +of what his words had implied. + +He laughed again very coarsely and looked at her with eyes that almost +lured. "Married!" he exclaimed, "do I look like a marrying man? A +newspaper man can't afford to marry." + +"How strange," reflected Mrs. Philpot, "how funny, and Mr. Howells calls +himself a realist!" + +"Realist!" laughed Hubbard, "why he does not know enough about the +actual world to be competent to purchase a family horse. He's a capital +fellow, good and true and kind-hearted, but what does he know about +affairs? He doesn't even know how to flatter women!" + +"How absurd!" exclaimed little Mrs. Philpot, but Hubbard could not +be sure for the life of him just what she meant the expression to +characterize. + +"And you like Mr. Howells?" she inquired. + +"Like him! everybody likes him," he cordially said. + +"Well, you are quite different from Miss Crabb. _She_ hates Maurice +Thompson for putting _her_ into a story." + +"Oh, well," said Hubbard, indifferently, "women are not like men. They +take life more seriously. If Thompson had had more experience he would +not have tampered with a newspaper woman. He's got the whole crew down +on him. Miss Stackpole hates him almost as fiercely as she hates Henry +James." + +"I don't blame her," exclaimed Mrs. Philpot, "it's mean and contemptible +for men to caricature women." + +"Oh, I don't know," yawned Hubbard, "it all goes in a lifetime." + +At this opportune moment Miss Crabb and Miss Stackpole joined them, +coming arm in arm. Miss Crabb looking all the more sallow and slender in +comparison with the plump, well-fed appearance of her companion. + +"May I introduce you to Miss Crabb of the Ringville _Star_, Mr. +Hubbard," Miss Stackpole asked, in a high but by no means rich voice, +as she fastened her steady, button-like eyes on Mrs. Philpot. + +Hubbard arose lazily and went through the process of introduction +perfunctorily, giving Miss Crabb a sweeping but indifferent glance. + +"There's an impromptu pedestrian excursion on hand," said Miss +Stackpole, "and I feel bound to go. One of the gentlemen has discovered +a hermit's cabin down a ravine near here, and he offers to personally +conduct a party to it. You will go, Mr. Hubbard?" + +"Go! I should remark that I will. You don't get a scoop of that item, I +assure you." + +Miss Stackpole was a plump and rather pretty young woman, fairly well +dressed in drab drapery. She stood firmly on her feet and had an air +of self-reliance and self-control in strong contrast with the fussy, +nervous manner of Miss Crabb. + +Mrs. Philpot surveyed the two young women with that comprehensive, +critical glance which takes in everything that is visible, and quickly +enough she made up her comparison and estimate of them. + +She decided that Miss Crabb had no style, no _savoir faire_, no repose; +but then Miss Stackpole was forward, almost impudent in appearance, and +her greater ease of manner was really the ease that comes of a long +training in intrusiveness, and of rubbing against an older civilization. +She felt quite distinctly the decided dash of vulgarity in the three +newspaper representatives before her, and she could not help suspecting +that it would not be safe to judge the press reporters by these +examples. + +The question arose in her mind whether after all Howells and Henry James +and Maurice Thompson had acted fairly in taking these as representative +newspaper people. + +She had met a great many newspaper people and had learned to like them +as a class; she had many good and helpful friends among them. + +Unconsciously she was showing to all present that she was dissecting the +three reporters. Her unfavorable opinion of them slowly took expression +in her tell-tale face. Not that she wholly disliked or distrusted them; +she really pitied them. How could they be content to live such a life, +dependent upon what they could make by meddling, so to speak? + +Then too, she felt a vague shame, a chagrin, a regret that real people +must be put into works of fiction with all the seamy side of their +natures turned out to the world's eye. + +"We're in for it," exclaimed Hubbard, "Mrs. Philpot is making a study of +us as a group. See the dreaming look in her eyes!" + +"Oh, no! she never studies anybody or anything," said Miss Crabb. "Poor +little woman, real life is a constant puzzle to her, and she makes not +the slightest effort to understand it." + +Hubbard and Miss Stackpole glanced curiously at each other and then at +Miss Crabb. Evidently their thought was a common one. + + +XVI. + +The pedestrian excursion spoken of by Miss Stackpole promised to be an +enjoyable affair to those of the Helicon guests who could venture upon +it. A writer of oddly entertaining and preposterously impossible short +stories, John B. Cattleton, had been mousing among the ravines of Mt. +Boab, and had stumbled upon what he described as a "very obscure little +cabin, jammed under a cliff in an angle of the cañon and right over a +bright stream of cold, pure spring-water. It's a miserably picturesque +and forlornly prepossessing place," he went on in his droll way, "where +all sorts of engaging ghosts and entertaining ogres might be supposed +to congregate at midnight. I didn't go quite down to it, but I was near +enough to it to make out its main features, and I saw the queerest being +imaginable poking around the premises. A veritable hermit, I should +call him, as old as the rocks themselves. His dress was absurdly +old-fashioned, a caricature of the uniform of our soldier sires of +revolutionary renown. A long spike-tailed blue coat with notable brass +buttons, a triangular hat somewhat bell-crowned and tow or cotton +trousers. Shirt? Vest? Yes, if I remember well they were of copperas +homespun. His hair and beard were white, fine and thin, hanging in +tags and wisps as fluffy as lint. I sat upon a rock in the shadow of a +cedar tree and watched his queer manoeuvres for a good while. All his +movements were furtive and peculiar, like those of a shy, wild beast." + +"It's the Prophet of the Smoky Mountain," said Miss Crabb in an earnest +stage whisper. "He's Craddock's material, we can't touch him." + +"Touch him! I'll interview him on dialect in politics," said Hubbard, +"and get his views on sex in genius." + +"I should like a sketch of his life. There must be a human interest to +serve as straw for my brick," remarked Miss Stackpole. "The motive that +induced him to become a hermit, and all that." + +Miss Crabb dared not confess that she desired a sketch of the old man +for the newspaper syndicate, so she merely drummed on her front teeth +with her pencil. + +Dufour joined the pedestrian party with great enthusiasm, having dressed +himself for the occasion in a pair of tennis trousers, a blue flannel +shirt, a loose jacket and a shooting cap. + +His shoes were genuine alpine foot-gear with short spikes in their heels +and soles. + +"Lead on Cattleton," he cried jovially, "and let our motto be, 'On to +the hut of Friar Tuck'!" + +"Good," answered Cattleton in like spirit, "and you shall be my +lieutenant, come, walk beside me." + +"Thank you, from the bottom of my heart," replied Dufour, "but I cannot +accept. I have contracted to be Miss Moyne's servant instead." + +That was a gay procession filing away from Hotel Helicon through the +thin forest that fringed one shoulder of stately Mt. Boab. Cattleton +led the column, flinging back from time to time his odd sayings and +preposterous conceits. + +The day was delightfully cool with a steady wind running over the +mountain and eddying in the sheltered coves where the ferns were thick +and tall. In the sky were a few pale clouds slowly vanishing, whilst +some broad-pinioned buzzards wheeled round and round above the +blue-green abyss of the valley. There were sounds of a vague, dreamy +sort abroad in the woods, like the whisperings and laughter of legions +of invisible beings. Everybody felt exhilarated and buoyant, tramping +gaily away to the hut of the hermit. + +At a certain point Cattleton commanded a halt, and pointing out the +entrance to the ravine, said: + +"Now, good friends, we must have perfect silence during the descent, +or our visit will be all in vain. Furthermore, the attraction of +gravitation demands that, in going down, we must preserve our +uprightness, else our progress may be facilitated to an alarming degree, +and our advent at the hut be far from becomingly dignified." + +Like a snake, flecked with touches of gay color, the procession crawled +down the ravine, the way becoming steeper and more tortuous at every +step. Thicker and thicker and thicker grew the trees, saving where the +rock broke forth from the soil, and closer drew the zig-zags of the +barely possible route. Cattleton silenced every voice and rebuked every +person who showed signs of weakening. + +"It's just a few steps farther," he whispered back from his advanced +position, "don't make the least sound." + +But the ravine proved, upon this second descent much more difficult and +dangerous than it had appeared to Cattleton at first, and it was with +the most heroic exertions that he finally led the party down to the +point whence he had viewed the cabin. By this time the column was +pressing upon him and he could not stop. Down he went, faster and +faster, barely able to keep his feet, now sliding, now clutching a tree +or rock, with the breathless and excited line of followers gathering +dangerous momentum behind him. + +It was too late now to command silence or to control the company in any +way. An avalanche of little stones, loosened by scrambling feet, swept +past him and went leaping on down below. He heard Miss Moyne utter a +little scream of terror that mingled with many exclamations from both +men and women, and then he lost his feet and began to slide. Down he +sped and down sped the party after him, till in a cataract of mightily +frightened, but unharmed men and women, they all went over a little +precipice and landed in a scattered heap on a great bed of oak leaves +that the winds had drifted against the rock. + +A few moments of strange silence followed, then everybody sprang up, +disheveled and red-faced, to look around and see what was the matter. + +They found themselves close to the long, low cabin, from under which +flowed a stream of water. A little column of smoke was wandering out +of a curious clay chimney. Beside the low door-way stood a long, deep +trough filled with water in which a metal pipe was coiled fantastically. +Two earthen jugs with cob stoppers sat hard by. A sourish smell +assaulted their sense and a faint spirituous flavor burdened the air. + +Cattleton, who was first upon his feet, shook himself together and +drolly remarked: + +"We have arrived in good order, let's interview the----" + +Just then rushed forth from the door the old man of the place, who +halted outside and snatched from its rack on the wall a long tin horn, +which he proceeded to blow vigorously, the echoes prowling through the +woods and over the foot-hills and scampering far away up and down the +valley. + +Not a soul present ever could forget that sketch, the old man with his +shrunken legs bent and wide apart, his arms akimbo as he leaned far +back and held up that wailing, howling, bellowing horn, and his long +coat-tail almost touching the ground, whilst his fantastic hat quivered +in unison with the strain he was blowing. How his shriveled cheeks +puffed out, and how his eyes appeared to be starting from their bony +sockets! + +"That is what I call a fitting reception," said Cattleton, gazing at the +trumpeter. + +"See here," exclaimed Crane with evident excitement, "I smell whisky! +This----" + +"Hyer! what d'ye mean hyer, you all a comin' down hyer?" broke forth a +wrathful voice, and Wesley Tolliver rushed with melodramatic fierceness +upon the scene. + +"Oh! I--I--wa--want to g--go home!" cried little Mrs. Philpot, clutching +Bartley Hubbard's arm. + +"So do I," said he with phlegmatic cleverness. "I should like to see my +mother. I'm feeling a little lonely and----" + +"What upon yearth do this yer mean, anyhow?" thundered Tolliver. "Who +invited you all down yer, tell me thet, will ye?" + +"Oh, Mr. Tolliver, Mr. Tolliver!" exclaimed Miss Crabb, rushing upon +him excitedly, "I'm _so_ glad you are here!" + +"Well, I'll ber dorged!" he ejaculated, "you down hyer again! Well, I +never seed the like afore in all my born days." + +He gazed at first one and then another of the party, and a sudden light +flashed into his face. + +"Well I'll ber dorged ef ther whole kepoodle of 'em hain't done jest +gone and tumbled off'n the mounting an' jest rolled down hyer!" + +"You're a very accurate reasoner, my friend," said Cattleton, trying to +get his hat into shape. "I think we touched at two or three points as we +came down, however." + +About this time four or five more mountaineers appeared bearing guns and +looking savage. + +"Bandits," said Miss Stackpole with a shudder. + +"Moonshiners," muttered Crane. + +"Oh, for heaven's sake, Mr. Hubbard, do t--t--take m--me home!" wailed +Mrs. Philpot. + +"I should be delighted," said Hubbard, his voice concealing the +uneasiness he felt. "Indeed I should." + +More men appeared and at the same time a roll of thunder tumbled across +the darkening sky. A sudden mountain storm had arisen. + +The pedestrians found themselves surrounded by a line of grim and silent +men who appeared to be waiting for orders from Tolliver. + +A few large drops of rain come slanting down from the advancing fringe +of the sable-cloud, and again the thunder bounded across the heavens. + +"I guess you'd better invite us in," suggested Cattleton, turning to the +old man, who stood leaning on his tin horn. "The ladies will get wet." + +"I say, Cattleton," called out Bartley Hubbard, "if a fellow only had +a little supply of Stockton's negative gravity he could ameliorate his +condition, don't you think?" + +"Yes, I'd like to fall up hill just now. The excitement would be +refreshing." + +There came a spiteful dash of rain and a flurry of wind. + +"You'ns had better go inter the still-house," said Tolliver. "Hit air +goin' ter rain yearlin' calves. Go right erlong in, ye sha'n't be hurt." + +Another gush of rain enforced the invitation, and they all scrambled +into the cabin pell-mell, glad of the relief from a strain that had +become almost unbearable to some of them, but they stared at each other +when they found the door closed and securely locked on the outside. + +"Prisoners!" cried some one whose voice was drowned by a deafening crash +of thunder and a mighty flood of rain that threatened to crush in the +rickety roof of the house. + +"The treacherous villain!" exclaimed Dufour, speaking of Tolliver and +holding Miss Moyne's hand. The poor girl was so frightened that it was a +comfort to her to have her hand held. + +"How grand, how noble it is in Mr. Tolliver and his friends," said Miss +Crabb, "to stand out there in the rain and let us have the shelter! I +never saw a more virile and thoroughly unselfish man than he is. He is +one of Nature's unshorn heroes, a man of the ancient god-like race." + +Mrs. Nancy Jones Black gave the young woman a look of profound contempt. + +Then a crash of thunder, wind, and rain scattered everybody's thoughts. + + +XVII. + +The storm was wild enough, but of short duration, and it came to its end +as suddenly as it had begun. As the black cloud departed from the sky, +the darkness, which had been almost a solid inside the still-house, was +pierced by certain lines of mild light coming through various chinks in +the walls and roof. Our friends examined one another curiously, as if to +be sure that it was not all a dream. + +Cattleton found himself face to face with a demure-looking young man, +whom he at once recognized as Harry Punner, a writer of delicious verses +and editor of a rollicking humorous journal at New York. + +"Hello, Hal! you here?" he cried. "Well how does it strike your funny +bone? It insists upon appearing serious to me." + +"I'm smothering for a whiff of fresh air," said Punner, in a very +matter-of-fact tone. "Can't we raise a window or something?" + +"The only window visible to the naked eye," said Cattleton, "is already +raised higher than I can reach," and he pointed to a square hole in the +wall about seven and a-half feet above the ground and very near the +roof. + +Crane went about in the room remarking that the aroma floating in the +air was the bouquet of the very purest and richest copper-distilled corn +whisky and that if he could find it he was quite sure that a sip of it +would prove very refreshing under the peculiar circumstances of the +case, an observation which called forth from Mrs. Nancy Jones Black a +withering temperance reprimand. + +"As the presiding officer of the _Woman's Prohibition Promulgation +Society_ I cannot let such a remark pass without condemning it. If +this really is a liquor establishment I desire to be let out of it +forthwith." + +"So do I!" exclaimed little Mrs. Philpot with great vehemence. "Open the +door Mr. Hubbard, please." + +Hubbard went to the door and finding that it was constructed to open +outwardly, gave it a shove with all his might. There was a short tussle +and he staggered back. + +"Why don't you push it open?" fretfully exclaimed Mrs. Nancy Jones +Black. + +"The gentlemen outside object, for reasons not stated," was the rather +stolidly spoken answer. + +Cattleton had taken off his hat and was going about through the company +soliciting handkerchiefs. + +"Drop them in, drop them in," he urged, "I need all of them that I can +get." + +He offered his hat as a contribution box as he spoke, and nearly +every-one gave a handkerchief, without in the least suspecting his +purpose. + +When he had collected a round dozen, Cattleton crammed them all down in +the crown of his hat which he then put on his head. + +"Now Hal," he said, addressing Punner, "give me a boost and I'll make an +observation through that window." + +The rain was now entirely ended and the wind had fallen still. + +With Punner's help Cattleton got up to the window and poked out his +head. + +"Git back ther'!" growled a vicious voice, and at the same time the dull +sound of a heavy blow was followed by the retreat of Cattleton from the +window to the floor in a great hurry. + +Upon top of his hat was a deep trench made by a club. + +"The handkerchiefs did their duty nobly," he remarked. "Let everybody +come forward and identify his property." + +"What did you see?" asked Punner. + +"A giant with an oak tree in his hand and murder in his eye," said +Cattleton, busily selecting and returning the handkerchiefs. "This +eleemosynary padding was all that saved me. The blow was aimed at my +divine intellect." + +"See here," cried Peck, in great earnest, "this is no joking matter. +We're in the power of a set of mountain moonshiners, and may be +murdered in cold blood. We'd better do something." + +Crane had prowled around until he had found a small jug of fragrant +mountain dew whisky, which he was proceeding to taste in true Kentucky +style, when a gaunt form rose in a corner of the room, and tottering +forward seized the jug and took it out of his hand. + +"No ye don't, sonny, no ye don't! This yer mounting jew air not +ever'body's licker 'at wants it. Not by er half er mile at the littlest +calc'lation!" + +Miss Crabb made a note. Crane gazed pathetically at the fantastic old +man before him, and brushed his handkerchief across his lips, as if from +habit, as he managed to say: + +"I meant no undue liberty, I assure you. That whisky is----" + +"Overpowerin'," interrupted the old man, taking a sip from the vessel. +"Yes, I don't blame ye fur a wantin' of it, but this yer licker air +mine." + +"Up in Kentucky," said Crane, "we are proud to offer----" + +"Kaintucky! did ye say ole Kaintuck? Air ye from ther', boy?" + +The octogenarian leaned forward as he spoke and gazed at Crane with +steadfast, rheumy eyes. + +Miss Henrietta Stackpole came forward to hear what was to follow, her +instinct telling her that a point of human interest was about to be +reached. + +"Yes," said Crane, "I was born and reared on Lulbegrud creek." + +"Lulbegrud!" + +"Yes." + +"How fur f'om Wright's mill?" + +"Close by, at Kiddville," said Crane. + +"Ye 'member Easton's Springs close by an' Pilot Knob away off in the +distance?" + +"Very well, indeed, and Guoff's pond." + +"Boy, what mought yer name be?" + +"Crane." + +"Crane!" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I'll ber dorg!" + +The old man stood gazing and grinning at Crane for some moments, and +then added: + +"What's yer pap's name?" + +"Eliphas Crane." + +"'Liphas Crane yore pap!" + +"Yes." + +"Child, I air yer pap's uncle." + +"What!" + +"I air Peter Job Crane." + +"You!" + +"Sartin es anything." + +"Are you my father's uncle Peter?" + +"I air yer pap's uncle Pete." + +"How strange!" + +Miss Stackpole did not permit a word, a look, or a shade of this +interview to escape her. She now turned to Bartley Hubbard and said: + +"We Americans are the victims of heterogeneous consanguinity. Such an +incident as this could not happen in England. It will be a long time +before we can get rid of our ancestors." + +"Yes," assented Hubbard, nonchalantly, "Yer pap's uncle certainly is a +large factor in American life." + +"How many men did you see when you looked out?" Peck inquired, +addressing Cattleton. + +"I saw only one, but he was a monster," was the ready reply. "It's no +use brooding over trying to escape by force. We're utterly helpless, and +that jolt on my head has rendered me unfit for diplomatic efforts." + +"What do you suppose they will do with us?" + +"They won't dare let us go." + +"Why?" + +"They'd be afraid that we would report their illicit distillery." + +"Ah, I see." + +The affair began to take on a very serious and gloomy aspect, and the +room was growing oppressively hot, owing to the presence of a a small +but energetic furnace that glowed under a sighing boiler. Outside, with +the clearing sky and refreshed air, there arose a clamor of bird-song in +the dripping trees. Under the floor the spring-stream gurgled sweetly. + +"Ye 'member Abbott's still house on ole Lulbegrud?" said the old man, +pursuing his reminisences, after he had permitted his grand-nephew to +taste the "mounting jew," "an' Dan Rankin's ole bob-tail hoss?" + +"Very well, indeed," responded Crane, "and Billy Pace's blackberry +fields where I picked berries in summer and chased rabbits in winter." + +"Take er nother drop o' the jyful juice, boy, fur the mem'ry o' ole +Kaintuck!" + +"Oh dear! but isn't it incomparably awful?" exclaimed Mrs. Nancy Jones +Black, gazing in horrified fascination upon the two Kentuckians, as they +bowed to each other and drank alternately from the little jug. + +"Characteristic Southern scene not used by Craddock," murmured Miss +Crabb, making a whole page of a single note. + +"Don't this yere liquor taste o' one thing an' smell o' another an' jes' +kinder git ter the lowest p'int o' yer appetite?" continued Crane's +great uncle Peter. + +"Delicious beyond compare," responded the young man, drinking again, "it +is nectar of the gods." + +Mrs. Nancy Jones Black groaned, but could not withdraw her eyes from the +scene. + +"Good deal like ole times down to Abbott's still-house on Lulbegrud, +boy," the old man suggested, "ye don't forgit erbout Dan Rankin's mule +a-kickin' ole man Hornback's hat off?" + +The poet laughed retrospectively and mopped his glowing face with +his handkerchief. The heat from the furnace and the stimulus of the +excellent beverage were causing him to feel the need of fresh air. + +Indeed, everybody was beginning to pant. Miss Moyne was so overcome with +excitement and with the heat of the place, that she was ready to faint, +when the door was flung open and Tolliver appeared. A rush of sweet cool +air, flooding the room, revived her, just as she was sinking into +Dufour's arms. + + +XVIII. + +Authors who have added the vice of elocution to the weakness of dialect +verse-making, are often at a loss for a sympathetic audience. Whilst +it is true that literary people are apt to bear with a good deal of +patience the mutually offered inflictions incident to meeting one +another, they draw the line at dialect recitations; and, as a rule, +stubbornly refuse to be bored with a fantastic rendition of "When +Johnny got spanked by a mule," or "Livery-stable Bob," or "Samantha's +Courtin'," or "Over the Ridge to the Pest-house," no matter how dear a +friend may offer the scourge. Circumstances alter cases, however, and +although neither Carleton, nor Riley, nor yet Burdette, nor Bill Nye +(those really irresistible and wholly delightful humorists), had come to +Hotel Helicon, there was a certain relief for those of the guests who +had not joined the luckless pedestrians, in hearing Miss Amelia Lotus +Nebeker recite a long poem written in New Jersey patois. + +Miss Nebeker was very hard of hearing, almost stone deaf, indeed, which +affliction lent a pathetic effect even to her humor. She was rather +stout, decidedly short, and had a way of making wry faces with a view to +adding comicality to certain turns of her New Jersey phraseology, and +yet she was somewhat of a bore at times. Possibly she wished to read too +often and sometimes upon very unsuitable occasions. It was Mrs. Bridges +who once said that, if the minister at a funeral should ask some one to +say a few appropriate words, Miss Nebeker, if present, would immediately +clear her throat and begin reciting "A Jerseyman's Jewsharp." "And if +she once got started you'd never be able to stop her, for she's as deaf +as an adder." + +It was during the rainstorm, while those of the guests who had not gone +to the hermit's hut with Cattleton, were in the cool and spacious parlor +of the hotel, that something was said about Charles Dickens reading from +his own works. Strangely enough, although the remark was uttered in +a low key and at some distance from Miss Nebeker, she responded at +once with an offer to give them a new rendering of _The Jerseyman's +Jewsharp_. Lucas, the historian, objected vigorously, but she insisted +upon interpreting his words and gestures as emphatic applause of her +proposition. She arose while he was saying: + +"Oh now, that's too much, we're tired of the jangling of that old harp; +give us a rest!" + +This unexpected and surprising slang from so grave and dignified +a man set everybody to laughing. Miss Nebeker bowed in smiling +acknowledgement of what appeared to her to be a flattering anticipation +of her humor, and taking her manuscript from some hiding-place in her +drapery, made a grimace and began to read. Mrs. Philpot's cat, in the +absence of its mistress, had taken up with the elocutionist and now came +to rub and purr around her feet while she recited. This was a small +matter, but in school or church or lecture-hall, small matters attract +attention. The fact that the cat now and again mewed plaintively set +some of the audience to smiling and even to laughing. + +Such apparent approval of her new rendition thrilled Miss Nebeker to her +heart's core. Her voice deepened, her intonations caught the spirit of +her mood, and she read wildly well. + +Every one who has even a smattering of the _patois_ current in New +Jersey, will understand how effective it might be made in the larynx +of a cunning elocutionist; and then whoever has had the delicious +experience of hearing a genuine Jerseyman play on the jewsharp will +naturally jump to a correct conclusion concerning the pathos of the +subject which Miss Nebeker had in hand. She felt its influence and threw +all her power into it. Heavy as she was, she arose on her tip-toes at +the turning point of the story and gesticulated vehemently. + +The cat, taken by surprise, leaped aside a pace or two and glared in a +half-frightened way, with each separate hair on its tail set stiffly. +Of course there was more laughter which the reader took as applause. + +"A brace of cats!" exclaimed the historian. "A brace of cats!" + +Nobody knew what he meant, but the laughing increased, simply for the +reason that there was nothing to laugh at. + +Discovering pretty soon that Miss Nebeker really meant no harm by her +manoeuvres, the cat went back to rub and purr at her feet. Then Miss +Nebeker let down her heel on the cat's tail, at the same time beginning +with the pathetic part of _The Jerseyman's Jewsharp_. + +The unearthly squall that poor puss gave forth was wholly lost on the +excited elocutionist, but it quite upset the audience, who, not wishing +to appear rude, used their handkerchiefs freely. + +Miss Nebeker paused to give full effect to a touching line. + +The cat writhed and rolled and clawed the air and wailed like a lost +spirit in its vain endeavor to free its tail; but Miss Nebeker, all +unconscious of the situation, and seeing her hearers convulsed and +wiping tears from their faces, redoubled her elocutionary artifices and +poured incomparable feeling into her voice. + +Suddenly the tortured and writhing animal uttered a scream of +blood-curdling agony and lunged at Miss Nebeker's ankles with tooth and +claw. + +She was in the midst of the passage where the dying Jerseyman lifts +himself on his elbow and calls for his trusty Jewsharp: + +"Gi' me my juice-harp, Sarah Ann----" she was saying, when of a sudden +she screamed louder than the cat and bounded into the air, sending her +manuscript in fluttering leaves all over the room. + +The cat, with level tail and fiery eyes, sailed through the door-way +into the hall, and went as if possessed of a devil, bounding up the +stairway to Mrs. Philpot's room. + +Congratulations were in order, and Lucas insisted upon bellowing in Miss +Nebeker's ear his appreciation of the powerful effect produced by the +last scene in the little drama. + +"If our friends who are out in this rain are finding anything half as +entertaining," he thundered, "they needn't mind the drenching." + +"But I'm bitten, I'm scratched, I'm hurt," she exclaimed. + +Lucas suddenly realized the brutality of his attitude, and hastened to +rectify it by collecting the leaves of her manuscript and handing them +to her. + +"I beg pardon," he said sincerely, "I hope you are not hurt much." + +"Just like a cat," she cried, "always under somebody's feet! I do +despise them!" + +With a burning face and trembling hands she swiftly rearranged the +manuscript and assuming the proper attitude asked the audience to be +seated again. + +"I am bitten and scratched quite severely," she said, "and am suffering +great pain, but if you will resume your places I will begin over +again." + +"Call that cat back, then, quick!" exclaimed Lucas, "it's the star +performer in the play." + +She proceeded forthwith, setting out on a new journey through the +tortuous ways of the poem, and held up very well to the end. What she +called New Jersey patois was a trifle flat when put into verse and she +lacked the polished buffoonery of a successful dialect reader, wherefore +she failed to get along very successfully with her audience in the +absence of the cat; still the reading served to kill a good deal of +time, by a mangling process. + +The storm was over long ago when she had finished, and the sun was +flooding the valley with golden splendor. Along the far away mountain +ridges some slanting wisps of whitish mist sailed slowly, like aerial +yachts riding dark blue billows. The foliage of the trees, lately dusky +and drooping, twinkled vividly with a green that was almost dazzling, +and the air was deliciously fresh and fragrant. + +Everybody went out on the veranda for a turn and a deep breath. + +The mail had arrived and by a mistake a bundle of letters bearing the +card of George Dunkirk & Co., and addressed to "George Dunkirk, Esq., +Hotel Helicon, room 24," was handed to Lucas. + +The historian gazed at the superscription, adjusted his glasses and +gazed again, and slowly the truth crept into his mind. There were ten or +fifteen of the letters. Evidently some of them, as Lucas's experience +suggested, had alien letters inclosed within their envelopes, and thus +forwarded by the mailing clerk of the firm had at last come to the +senior partner at room 24. + +"Gaspard Dufour, indeed!" Lucas exclaimed inwardly. "George Dunkirk, +rather. This is a pretty kettle of fish!" + +He sent the letters up to room 24, to await the return of their proper +recipient, and fell to reflecting upon the many, very many and very +insulting things that he and nearly all the rest of the hotel guests as +well had said in Dufour's hearing about publishers in general and about +George Dunkirk & Co., in particular. His face burned with the heat +of the retrospect, as he recalled such phrases as "sleek thief," +"manipulator of copy-right statements," "Cadmean wolf" "ghoul of +literary grave-yards," and a hundred others, applied with utter +unrestraint and bandied around, while George Dunkirk was sitting by +listening to it all! + +He called Ferris to him and imparted his discovery in a stage whisper. + +"The dickens!" was all that gentleman could say, as the full text of his +address of the other evening rushed upon him. + +"It is awkward, devilish awkward," remarked Lucas, wiping his glasses +and nervously readjusting them. + +A few minutes later two men rode up to the hotel. One of them was a very +quiet-looking fellow who dryly stated that he was the high sheriff of +Mt. Boab county. + + +XIX. + +Meantime down the ravine in the obscure little still-house our +pedestrians were held in durance vile by Tolliver and his obedient +moon-shiners. + +It was a puzzling situation to all concerned. Far from wishing or +intending to harm his prisoners, Tolliver still could not see his way +clear to setting them at liberty. On the other hand he was clever +enough to perceive that to hold them very long would be sure to lead to +disaster, for their friends would institute a search and at the same +time telegraph an account of their disappearance all over the country. + +"'Pears ter me like I've ketched bigger game 'an my trap'll hold," he +thought, as he stood in the door-way surveying his victims. + +"What ye all a doin' a monkeyin' round' these yer premerses, anyhow?" he +demanded. "W'y c'udn't ye jest wait 'll I sent for ye ter kem yer?" + +"It's a sort of surprise party, my dear sir," said Cattleton. "Don't you +see?" + +"S'prise set o' meddlin' Yankees a foolin' roun' wher' they air not got +no business at," responded Tolliver, "that's w'at I calls it." + +"Where's your pantry?" inquired Punner, "I'm as hungry as a wolf." + +"Hongry, air ye? What'd ye 'spect ter git ter eat at er still-house, +anyhow? Hain't ye got no sense er tall? Air ye er plum blasted eejit?" + +Tolliver made these inquiries in a voice and manner suggestive of +suppressed but utter wrath. + +"Oh he's _always_ hungry, he would starve in a feed-store," exclaimed +Cattleton. "Don't pay the least attention to him, Mr. Tolliver. He's +incurably hungry." + +"W'y ef the man's really hongry----" Tolliver began to say in a +sympathetic tone. + +"Here," interrupted Hubbard gruffly, "let us out of this immediately, +can't you? The ladies can't bear this foul air much longer, it's +beastly." + +"Mebbe hit air you 'at air a running this yer chebang," said Tolliver +with a scowl. "I'll jes' let ye out w'en I git ready an' not a minute +sooner, nother. So ye've hearn my tin horn." + +Miss Stackpole and Miss Crabb made notes in amazing haste. + +Hubbard shrugged his heavy shoulders and bit his lip. He was baffled. + +"Do you think they'll kill us?" murmured Miss Moyne in Dufour's ear. + +Dufour could not answer. + +Crane and his "pap's uncle Pete" were still hobnobbing over the jug. + +"Yer's a lookin' at ye, boy, an' a hopin' agin hope 'at ye may turn out +ter be es likely a man es yer pap," the old man was saying, preliminary +to another draught. + +Crane was bowing with extreme politeness in acknowledgement of the +sentiment, and was saying: + +"I am told that I look like my father----" + +"Yes, ye do look a leetle like im," interrupted the old man with a leer +over the jug, "but l'me say at it air dern leetle, boy, dern leetle!" + +Punner overhearing this reply, laughed uproariously. Crane appeared +oblivious to the whole force of the joke, however. He was simply waiting +for his turn at the jug. + +"As I wer' a sayin'," resumed the old man, "yer's er hopin' agin' hope, +an' a lookin' at ye----" + +"How utterly brutal and disgusting!" cried Mrs. Nancy Jones Black. "I +must leave here, I cannot bear it longer! This is nothing but a low, +vile dram-shop! Let me pass!" + +She attempted to go through the doorway, but Tolliver interfered. + +"Stay wher' ye air," he said, in a respectful but very stern tone. "Ye +can't git out o' yer jist yit." + +"Dear me! Dear me!" wailed Mrs. Black, "what an outrage, what an insult! +Are you men?" she cried, turning upon the gentlemen near her, "and will +you brook this?" + +"Give me your handkerchiefs again," said Cattleton, "and I will once +more poke out my head; 'tis all that I can do!" + +"Shoot the fust head 'at comes out'n thet ther winder, Dave!" ordered +Tolliver, speaking to some one outside. + +"I don't care for any handkerchiefs, thank you," said Cattleton, "I've +changed my mind." + +Miss Moyne was holding Dufour's arm with a nervous clutch, her eyes were +full of tears, and she was trembling violently. He strove to quiet her +by telling her that there was no danger, that he would shield her, die +for her and all that; but Tolliver looked so grim and the situation was +so strange and threatening that she could not control herself. + +"Goodness! but isn't this rich material," Miss Crabb soliloquized, +writing in her little red book with might and main. "Bret Harte never +discovered anything better." + +Miss Henrietta Stackpole was too busy absorbing the human interest of +the interview between the two Cranes, to be more than indirectly aware +of anything else that was going on around her. + +"Ye needn't be erfeard as ter bein' hurt, boy," said the old man, "not +es long es yer pap's uncle Pete air eroun' yer. Hit ain't often 'at I +meets up wi' kinfolks downyer, an' w'en I does meet up wi' 'em I treats +'em es er Southern gen'l'man orter treat his kinfolks." + +"Precisely so," said Crane, taking another sip, "hospitality is a +crowning Southern virtue. When I go up to Louisville Henry Watterson and +I always have a good time." + +"Spect ye do, boy, spect ye do. Louisville use ter be a roarin' good +place ter be at." + +Tolliver, whose wits had been hard at work, now proposed what he called +"terms o' pay-roll, like what they hed in the war." + +"Ef ye'll all take a oath an' swa' at ye'll never tell nothin' erbout +nothin," said he, "w'y I'll jest let ye off this yer time." + +"That is fair enough," said Dufour, "we are not in the detective +service." + +"Then," observed Tolliver, "ef I ken git the 'tention of this yer +meetin', I move 'at it air yerby considered swore 'at nothin' air ter be +said erbout nothin' at no time an' never. Do ye all swa'?" + +"Yes!" rang out a chorus of voices. + +"Hit air cyarried," said Tolliver, "an' the meetin' air dismissed, sigh +er die. Ye kin all go on erbout yer business." + +The pedestrians filed out into the open air feeling greatly relieved. +Crane lingered to have a few more passages with his sociable and +hospitable grand-uncle. Indeed he remained until the rest of the party +had passed out of sight up the ravine and he did not reach the hotel +until far in the night, when he sang some songs under Miss Moyne's +window. + +Taken altogether, the pedestrians felt that they had been quite +successful in their excursion. + +Dufour was happiness itself. On the way back he had chosen for himself +and Miss Moyne a path which separated them from the others, giving him +an opportunity to say a great deal to her. + +Now it is a part of our common stock of understanding that when a man +has an excellent and uninterrupted opportunity to say a great deal to +a beautiful young woman, he usually does not find himself able to say +much; still he rarely fails to make himself understood. + +They both looked so self-consciously happy (when they arrived a little +later than the rest at Hotel Helicon) that suspicion would have been +aroused but for two startling and all-absorbing disclosures which drove +away every other thought. + +One was the disclosure of the fact that Dufour was not Dufour, but +George Dunkirk, and the other was the disclosure of the fact that the +high sheriff of Mt. Boab County was in Hotel Helicon on important +official business. + +Little Mrs. Philpot was the first to discover that the great publisher +really had not practiced any deception as to his name. Indeed her album +showed that the signature therein was, after all, George Dunkirk and not +Gaspard Dufour. The autograph was not very plain, it is true, but it was +decipherable and the mistake was due to her own bad reading. + +If the sheriff had been out of the question the humiliation felt by +the authors, for whom Dunkirk was publisher and who had talked so +outrageously about him, would have crushed them into the dust; but the +sheriff was there in his most terrible form, and he forced himself +upon their consideration with his quiet but effective methods of legal +procedure. + + +XX. + +"Gaslucky has been caught in a wheat corner at Chicago," Lucas +explained, "and has been squeezed to death." + +"Dead!" cried Punner, "it's a great loss. We'll have to hold a meeting +and pass res----" + +"We'll have to get out of this place in short order," said Lucas, "the +sheriff has levied an attachment on the hotel and all it contains." + +"What!" + +"How's that?" + +"Do you mean that the house is to be shut up and we turned out?" + +"Just that," said Lucas. "The sheriff has invoiced every thing, even the +provisions on hand. He says that we can't eat another bite here." + +"And I'm starving even now!" exclaimed Punner. "I could eat most +anything. Let's walk round to Delmonico's, Cattleton." + +"But really, what can we do?" demanded Ferris, dolefully enough. + +"Go home, of course," said Cattleton. + +Ferris looked blank and stood with his hands thrust in his pockets. + +"I can't go home," he presently remarked. + +"Why?" + +"I haven't money enough to pay my way." + +"By George! neither have I!" exclaimed Cattleton with a start. + +"That is precisely my fix," said Lucas gravely. + +"You echo my predicament," said Peck. + +"My salary is suspended during my absence," said Punner, with his eyes +bent on the floor. + +Little Mrs. Philpot was speechless for a time as the force of the +situation broke upon her. + +"Squeezed in a wheat corner?" inquired Miss Stackpole, "what do you mean +by that?" + +"I mean that Gaslucky got sheared in the big deal the other day at +Chicago," Lucas explained. + +"Got sheared?" + +"Yes, the bulls sat down on him." + +"Oh, you mean a speculation--a--" + +"Yes, Gaslucky was in for all he was worth, and they run it down on +him and flattened him. A gas-man's no business in wheat, especially in +Chicago; they spread him out, just as the sheriffs proceedings have +flattened all our hopes for the present." + +"It's just outrageous!" cried little Mrs. Philpot, finding her voice. +"He should have notified us, so that--" + +"They didn't notify him, I guess," said Cattleton. + +"No, he found it out afterwards," remarked Lucas, glancing gloomily +toward where Dunkirk and Miss Moyne stood, apparently in light and +pleasant conversation. + +Viewed in any light the predicament was a peculiar and distressing +one to the guests of Hotel Helicon. The sheriff, a rather ignorant, +but very stubborn and determined man, held executions and writs of +attachment sued out by Gaslucky creditors, which he had proceeded to +levy on the hotel and on all the personalty visible in it belonging to +the proprietor. + +"'Course," said he, "hit'll be poorty hard on you'ns, but I can't help +it, I've got ter do my juty, let it hurt whoever it will. Not er thing +kin ye tech at's in this yer tavern, 'ceptin' what's your'n, that air's +jest how it air. So now mind w'at yer a doin'." + +The servants were idle, the dining-room closed, the kitchen and pantries +locked up. Never was there a more doleful set of people. Mrs. Nancy +Jones Black thought of playing a piece of sacred music, but she found +the grand piano locked, with its key deep in the sheriff's pocket. + +The situation was made doubly disagreeable when at last the officer +informed the guests that they would have to vacate their rooms +forthwith, as he should proceed at once to close up the building. + +"Heavens, man, are you going to turn us out into the woods?" demanded +Peck. + +"Woods er no woods," he replied, "ye'll hev ter git out'n yer, right +off." + +"But the ladies, Mr. Sheriff," suggested Punner, "no Southern gentleman +can turn a lady out of doors." + +The officer actually colored with the force of the insinuation. He stood +silent for some time with his eyes fixed on the floor. Presently he +looked up and said: + +"The weeming kin stay till mornin'." + +"Well they must have something to eat," said Punner. "They can't +starve." + +"Thet's so," the sheriff admitted, "they kin hev a bite er so." + +"And we----" + +"You men folks cayn't hev a dorg gone mouthful, so shet up!" + +"Well," observed Cattleton, dryly, "it appears the odds is the +difference between falling into the hands of moonshiners and coming +under the influence of a lawful sheriff." + +"I know a little law," interposed Bartley Hubbard with a sullen +emphasis, "and I know that this sheriff has no right to tumble us out of +doors, and for my part----" + +"Fur yer part," said the sheriff coolly, "fur yer part, Mister, ef ye +fool erlong o' me I'll crack yer gourd fur ye." + +"You'll do what?" + +"I'll stave in yer piggin." + +"I don't understand." + +"W'y, blame yer ignorant hide, wha' wer' ye borned and fotch up? I'll +jest knock the everlastin' head off'n ye, _thet's_ 'zac'ly w'at I says. +Mebbe ye don't understan' _thet_?" + +"Yes," said Hubbard, visibly shrinking into himself, "I begin to suspect +your meaning." + +Miss Crabb was taking notes with enthusiastic rapidity. + +Dunkirk called the sheriff to him and a long conference was held between +them, the result of which was presently announced. + +"I heve thort it over," said the quiet officer of the law, "an' es hit +appear thet w'at grub air on han' an' done cooked might spile afore it +c'u'd be sold, therefore I proclamate an' say at you'ns kin stay yer +tell termorrer an' eat w'at's cooked, but tech nothin' else." + +Cattleton and Punner applauded loudly. To everybody the announcement was +a reprieve of no small moment, and a sigh of relief rustled through the +groups of troubled guests. Those who had been down the ravine were very +tired and hungry; the thought of a cold luncheon to them was the vision +of a feast. + +Dunkirk had a basket of wine brought down from his room and he made the +sheriff sit beside him at the table. + +"We may as well make the most of our last evening together," he said, +glancing jovially around. + +"We shall have to walk down the mountain in the morning, I suppose," +remarked Bartley Hubbard. + +"That's jest w'at's the matter," observed the sheriff. + +"But the ladies, my dear sir, the ladies----" began Punner. + +"The weeming, they'll hev kinveyances, young man, so ye kin jest shet up +ef ye please," the officer interrupted, with a good-natured wink and a +knowing wag of his head. + +A disinterested observer would have noted readily enough that the feast +was far from a banquet. There was Ferris, for instance, munching a +biscuit and sipping his wine and pretending to enjoy Punner's sallies +and Cattleton's drolleries, while down in his heart lay the leaden +thought, the hideous knowledge of an empty pocket. Indeed the reflection +was a common one, weighting down almost every breast at the board. + +One little incident did make even Ferris forget himself for a moment or +two, it was when deaf Miss Nebeker misinterpreted some remark made by +Hubbard and arose with a view to reciting _The Jerseyman's Jewsharp_, +with a new variation, "Oh, Jerseyman Joe had a Jewsharp of gold," she +began, in her most melodious drawl. She could not hear the protesting +voices of her friends and she misinterpreted the stare of the sheriff. + +"For the good heaven's sake, Hubbard," cried Lucas, "do use your +influence; quick, please, or I shall collapse." + +Bartley Hubbard took hold of her dress and gently pulled her down into +her chair. + +"The sheriff objects!" he yelled in her ear. + +"After dinner?" she resignedly inquired, "well, then after dinner, in +the parlor." + +When the feast had come to the crumbs, Dunkirk arose and said: + +"We all have had a good time at the Hotel Helicon, but our sojourn upon +the heights of Mt. Boab has been cut short by a certain chain of mishaps +over which we have had no control, and to-morrow we go away, doubtless +forever. I feel like saying that I harbor no unpleasant recollections +of the days we have spent together." + +Cattleton sprung to his feet to move a vote of thanks "to the +public-spirited and benevolent man who built this magnificent hotel and +threw open its doors to us." + +It was carried. + +"Now then," said Lucas, adjusting his glasses and speaking in his +gravest chest-tones, "I move that it be taken as the sense of this +assembly, that it is our duty to draw upon our publisher for money +enough to take us home." + +The response was overwhelming. + +Dunkirk felt the true state of affairs. He arose, his broad face +wreathed with genial smiles, and said: + +"To the certain knowledge of your unhappy publisher your accounts are +already overdrawn, but in view of the rich material you have been +gathering of late, your publisher will honor you draughts to the limit +of your expenses home." + +Never did happier people go to bed. The last sleep in Hotel Helicon +proved to be the sweetest. + +Far in the night, it is true, some one sang loudly but plaintively under +Miss Moyne's window until the sheriff awoke and sallied forth to end +the serenade with some remarks about "cracking that eejit's gourd;" but +there was no disturbance, the sounds blending sweetly with the dreams of +the slumberers. They all knew that it was Crane, poor fellow, who had +finally torn himself away from his father's fascinating uncle. + + +XXI. + +The retreat from Hotel Helicon was picturesque in the extreme. There had +been much difficulty in finding vehicles to take the retiring guests +down the mountain to the railway station, but Tolliver had come to the +rescue with a mule, a horse, a cart, and an ox. These, when added to +the rather incongruous collection of wagons and carts from every other +available source, barely sufficed. Tolliver led the mule with Ferris on +its back, while Miss Crabb and Miss Stackpole occupied the ox-cart, the +former acting as driver. + +"Good-bye and good luck to ye!" the sheriff called after them. "Mighty +sorry ter discommode ye, but juty air juty, an' a officer air no +respecter of persons." + +Mrs. Nancy Jones Black sat beside Crane in a rickety wagon, and between +jolts gave him many a word of wisdom on the subject of strong drink, +which the handsome Bourbon poet stowed away for future consideration. + +Dunkirk and Miss Moyne rode upon the "hounds" of a naked wood-wain, +as happy as two blue-birds in April, while Bartley Hubbard, with +little Mrs. Philpot and her child and some other ladies, was in an old +weather-beaten barouche, a sad relic of the _ante-bellum_ times. For the +rest there were vehicles of every sort save the comfortable sort, and +all went slowly winding and zig-zagging down Mt. Boab toward the valley +and the river. Why pursue them? Once they all looked up from far down +the slope and saw Hotel Helicon shining like a castle of gold in the +flood of summer sunlight. Its verandas were empty, its windows closed, +but the flag on its wooden tower still floated bravely in the breeze, +its folds appearing to touch the soft gray-blue sky. + + * * * * * + +A year later Crane and Peck met at Saratoga and talked over old times. +At length coming down to the present, Crane said: + +"Of all of us who were guests on Mt. Boab, Miss Moyne is the only one +who has found success. Her story, _On The Heights_, is in its seventieth +edition." + +"Oh, well," said Peck, "that goes without the saying. Anybody could +succeed with her chance." + +"_Her_ chance, why do you say that?" + +"Haven't you heard? Ah, I see that the news has not yet penetrated the +wilds of Kentucky. The open secret of Miss Moyne's success lies in the +fact that she has married her publisher." + +A silence of some minutes followed, during which Crane burned his cigar +very rapidly. + +"What fools we were," Peck presently ventured, "to be fighting a duel +about her!" + +"No, sir," said Crane, with a far-away look in his eyes, "no, sir, I +would die for her right now." + +So the subject was dropped between them forever. + +Some of Gaslucky's creditors bought Hotel Helicon at the sheriff's sale, +but it proved a barren investment. + +The house stands there now, weather-beaten and lonely on the peak of Mt. +Boab, all tenantless and forlorn. + +As to Tolliver's still-house I cannot say, but at stated intervals Crane +receives a small cask marked: "J'yful juice, hannel with keer," which +comes from his "Pap's uncle Pete." + + +THE END. + + + + +THE TALE OF A SCULPTOR + +BY HUGH CONWAY + + + + +THE TALE OF A SCULPTOR. + + +CHAPTER I. + +After you pass the "Blue Anchor"--the sign of which swings from the +branch of an elm tree older even than the house itself--a few steps +along the road bring you in sight of the pinnacled, square tower of +Coombe-Acton Church. You cannot see the church itself, as, with schools +and rectory close by it, it lies at the back of the village, about two +hundred yards up a lane. Like the village to whose spiritual needs it +ministers, the church, to an ordinary observer, is nothing out of the +common, although certain small peculiarities of architecture, not +noticed by an uncultured eye, make it an object of some interest to +archæologists. Visit it or not, according to your inclination, but +afterwards keep on straight through the long, straggling village, until +the houses begin to grow even more straggling, the gardens larger and +less cared for as ornaments, displaying more cabbages and scarlet +runners than roses--keep on until the houses cease altogether and +hawthorn hedges take the place of palings and crumbling walls, and at +last you will come to Watercress Farm, a long, low white house, one side +of which abuts on the highway, whilst the other looks over the three +hundred acres of land attached to it. + +Not a very large acreage, it is true, but then it is all good land, for +the most part such as auctioneers describe as rich, warm, deep, old +pasture land; such land that, at the time this tale opens, any farmer, +by thrift, knowledge of his business, and hard work, could make even +more than a bare living out of, and could meet his landlord on rent day +with a cheerful face, knowing that after rent and other outgoings were +provided for something would yet be left for himself. + +Who occupies the Watercress Farm now, and whether in these days of +depression his rent is forthcoming or not, matters little. At the time +I write of it, it was rented by farmer Leigh, even as his forefathers, +according to village tradition, had rented it for some two hundred +years. In quiet, conservative places like Coombe-Acton, a farm of this +kind often goes from father to son with more regularity than an entailed +estate, landlord and tenant well knowing that their interests are +identical. + +It was a fine afternoon towards the end of June. Abraham Leigh was +standing by the gate of the field known as the home meadow looking at +the long, ripe grass rippling as the summer breeze swept across it. +He was a thoroughly good specimen of the Somersetshire farmer. A big, +sturdy man, whose movements were slow and deliberate. His face, if heavy +and stolid, not by any means the face of a fool. No doubt, a man of +circumscribed views--the world, for him, extending eastwards to Bristol +market and westwards to the Bristol Channel. Nevertheless, respected in +his little world as a wonderful judge of a beast, a great authority on +tillages, and, above all, a man who always had a balance in his favor +at the Somersetshire Bank; a type of that extinct race, the prosperous +farmer, who looked on all townsmen with contempt, thinking, as all +farmers should think, that the owners of broad acres, and those engaged +in agriculture were alone worthy of respect. + +Yet, to-day, in spite of his advantages and acquirements, Farmer Leigh +looked on the fifteen-acre meadow with a puzzled and discontented +expression on his honest face; and, moreover, murmurs of dissatisfaction +were proceeding from his lips. Farmers--Somersetshire farmers +especially--are proverbial grumblers, but it is seldom they grumble +without an audience. It is outsiders who get the benefit of their +complaints. Besides, one would think that the tenant of Watercress Farm +had little at present to complain of. The drop of rain so badly wanted +had been long in coming, but it had come just in the nick of time to +save the grass, and if the crop outwardly looked a little thin, Mr. +Leigh's experienced eye told him that the undergrowth was thick, and +that the quality of the hay would be first-class. Moreover, what corn +and roots he had looked promising, so it seems strange that the farmer +should be grumbling when he had no one to listen to him, and should lean +so disconsolately upon the gate of the field when no one observed him. + +"I can't make him out," he said. "Good boy he be, too; yet, instead o' +helping me with the land, always going about dreaming or messing with +mud. Can't think where he got his notions from. Suppose it must 'a been +from the mother, poor thing! Always fond o' gimcracks and such like, +she were. Gave the lad such an outlandish name I'm ashamed to hear +it. Father's and grandfather's name ought to be good enough for a +Leigh--good boy though he be, too!" + +A soft look settled on Abraham Leigh's face as he repeated the last +words; then he went deeper into his slough of despond, where, no doubt, +he battled as manfully as a Christian until he reached the other shore +and fancied he had found the solution of his difficulties. + +His face brightened. "Tell 'ee what," he said, addressing the waving +grass in front of him, "I'll ask Mr. Herbert. Squire's a man who have +seen the world. I'll take his advice about the boy. Seems hard like +on me, too. Ne'er a Leigh till this one but what were a farmer to the +backbone!" + +His mind made up, the farmer strode off to make arrangement with mowers. +Had he been troubled with twenty unnatural and incompetent sons, the hay +must be made while the sun shines. + +Although he had settled what to do, it was some time before the weighty +resolve was carried into execution. Folks about Coombe-Acton do not +move with the celerity of cotton brokers or other men of business. Sure +they are, but slow. So it was not until the September rent day that +the farmer consulted his landlord about his domestic difficulty--the +possession of a son, an only child, of about fifteen, who, instead of +making himself useful on the land, did little else save wander about in +a dreamy way, looking at all objects in nature, animate or inanimate, or +employed himself in the mysterious pursuit which his father described as +"messing with mud." Such conduct was a departure from the respectable +bucolic traditions of the Leigh family, so great, that at times the +father thought it an infliction laid upon him for some cause or other +by an inscrutable Providence. + +There are certain Spanish noblemen who, on account of the antiquity of +their families and services rendered, are permitted to enter the royal +presence with covered heads. It was, perhaps, for somewhat similar +reasons, a custom handed down from father to son and established by +time, that the tenant of Watercress Farm paid his rent to the landlord +in person, not through the medium of an agent. Mr. Herbert being +an important man in the West country, the Leigh family valued this +privilege as highly as ever hidalgo valued the one above mentioned. +Mr. Herbert, a refined, intellectual-looking man of about fifty, +received the farmer kindly, and after the rent, without a word as +to abatement or reduction, had been paid in notes of the county +bank--dark and greasy, but valued in this particular district far +above Bank of England promises--landlord and tenant settled down to +a few minutes' conversation on crops and kindred subjects. Then the +farmer unburdened his mind. + +"I've come to ask a favor of your advice, sir, about my boy, Jerry." + +"Yes," said Mr. Herbert, "I know him--a nice, good-looking boy. I see +him at church with you, and about your place when I pass. What of him?" + +"Well, you zee, zur," said the farmer, speaking with more Somerset +dialect than usual, "he've a been at Bristol Grammar School till just +now. Masters all send good accounts of him. I don't hold wi' too much +learning, so thought 'twere time he come home and helped me like. But +not a bit o' good he be on the varm; not a bit, zur! Spends near all his +time messing about wi' dirt." + +"Doing what?" asked Mr. Herbert, astonished. + +"A-muddling and a-messing with bits o' clay. Making little figgers, +like, and tries to bake 'em in the oven." + +"Oh, I see what you mean. What sort of figures?" + +"All sorts, sir. Little clay figgers of horses, dogs, pigs--why, you'd +scarce believe it, sir--last week I found him making the figger of a +naked 'ooman! A naked 'ooman! Why, the lad could never a' seen such a +thing." + +Abraham Leigh waited with open eyes to hear Mr. Herbert's opinion of +such an extraordinary, if not positively unusual, proceeding. + +Mr. Herbert smiled. "Perhaps your son is a youthful genius." + +"Genius or not, I want to know, sir, what to do wi' him. How's the boy +to make a living? A farmer he'll never be." + +"You follow me and I will show you something." + +Mr. Herbert led his guest to his drawing-room--a room furnished with +the taste of a travelled man. As the farmer gaped at its splendor, he +directed his attention to four beautiful statues standing in the corners +of the room. + +"I gave the man who made those seven hundred pounds for them, and could +sell them to-morrow for a thousand if I chose. That's almost as good as +farming, isn't it?" + +His tenant's eyes were wide with amazement. "A thousand pounds, sir!" he +gasped. "Why, you might have bought that fourteen-acre field with that." + +"These give me more pleasure than land," replied Mr. Herbert. "But about +your boy; when I am riding by I will look in and see what he can do, +then give you my advice." + +The farmer thanked him and returned home. As he jogged along the road to +Watercress Farm, he muttered at intervals: "A thousand pounds in those +white figures! Well, well, well, I never did!" + +Mr. Herbert was a man who kept a promise, whether made to high or low. +Five days after his interview with Abraham Leigh he rode up to the +door of the farm. He was not alone. By his side rode a gay, laughing, +light-haired child of thirteen, who ruled an indulgent father with a rod +of iron. Mr. Herbert had been a widower for some years; the girl, and +a boy who was just leaving Harrow for the university, being his only +surviving children. The boy was, perhaps, all that Mr. Herbert might +have wished, but he could see no fault in the precocious, imperious, +spoilt little maid, who was the sunshine of his life. + +She tripped lightly after her father into the farm-house, laughing at +the way in which he was obliged to bend his head to avoid damage from +the low doorway; she seated herself with becoming dignity on the chair +which the widowed sister, who kept house for Abraham Leigh, tendered +her with many courtesies. A pretty child, indeed, and one who gave rare +promise of growing into a lovely woman. + +The farmer was away somewhere on the farm, but could be fetched in a +minute if Mr. Herbert would wait. Mr. Herbert waited, and very soon his +tenant made his appearance and thanked his visitor for the trouble he +was taking on his behalf. + +"Now let me see the boy," said Mr. Herbert, after disclaiming all sense +of trouble. + +Leigh went to the door of the room and shouted out, "Jerry, Jerry, come +down. You're wanted, my man." + +In a moment the door opened, and the cause of Mr. Leigh's discontent +came upon the scene in the form of a dark-eyed, dark-haired, pale-faced +boy, tall but slightly built; not, so far as physique went, much credit +to the country-side. Yet in some respects a striking-looking if not +handsome lad. The dark, eloquent eyes and strongly-marked brow would +arrest attention; but the face was too thin, too thoughtful for the +age, and could scarcely be associated with what commonly constitutes a +good-looking lad. Yet regularity of feature was there, and no one would +dare to be sure that beauty would not come with manhood. + +He was not seen at that moment under advantageous circumstances. Knowing +nothing about the distinguished visitors, he had obeyed his father's +summons in hot haste; consequently he entered the room in his shirt +sleeves, which were certainly not very clean, and with hands covered +with red clay. Mr. Herbert looked amused, while the little princess +turned up her nose in great disdain. + +Poor Abraham Leigh was much mortified at the unpresentable state in +which his son showed himself. To make matters worse, the boy was not +soiled by honest, legitimate toil. + +"Tut! tut!" he said, crossly. "All of a muck, as usual." + +The boy, who felt that his father had a right to complain, hung his head +and showed signs of retreating. Mr. Herbert came to the rescue. + +"Never mind," he said, patting young Leigh on the shoulder, "he has +been working in his own fashion. I have come on purpose to see those +modellings of yours, my boy." + +The boy started as one surprised. His cheek flushed, and he looked at +the speaker with incredulity yet hope in his eyes. + +"Yes," said his father, sharply. "Go and put your hands under the pump, +Jerry; then bring some of 'em down. Maybe, anyway, they'll amuse the +little lady." + +"No, no," said Mr. Herbert. "I'll come with you and see them for myself. +Lead the way." + +Young Leigh did not speak, but his eyes thanked Mr. Herbert. That +gentleman followed him from the room, leaving the farmer to amuse +the little maid. He did this so far as he was able by producing a +well-thumbed copy of the "Pilgrim's Progress," the leaves of which Miss +Herbert condescended to turn daintily over until she was quite terrified +by the picture of the combat with Apollyon. + +Meanwhile "Jerry," with a beating heart, led Mr. Herbert up-stairs to +a room destitute of furniture save an old table and chair. A bucket +half-full of common red clay stood in one corner, and on the table were +several of the little clay figures which had excited the farmer's ire +and consternation. + +Crude, defective, full of faults as they were, there was enough power in +them to make Mr. Herbert look at the lad in wonderment, almost envy. He +was a man who worshipped art; who had dabbled as an amateur in painting +and sculpturing for years; who considered a gifted artist the most +fortunate of mankind. So the word envy is not ill-chosen. What he would +have given half his wealth to possess came to this boy unsought for--to +the son of a clod of a farmer the precious gift was vouchsafed! + +As he would have expected, the most ambitious efforts were the +worst--the "naked 'ooman" was particularly atrocious--but, still wet, +and not ruined by an abortive attempt at baking, was a group modelled +from life; a vulgar subject, representing, as it did, Abraham Leigh's +prize sow, surrounded by her ten greedy offspring. There was such power +and talent in this production that, had he seen nothing else, Mr. +Herbert would have been certain that the lad as a modeller and copyist +must take the first rank. If, in addition to his manual dexterity, he +had poetry, feeling, and imagination, it might well be that one of the +greatest sculptors of the nineteenth century stood in embryo before him. + +As Mr. Herbert glanced from the rough clay sketches to the pale boy +who stood breathless, as one expecting a verdict of life or death, he +wondered what could have been the cause of such a divergence from the +traits habitual to the Leighs. Then he remembered that some twenty +years ago Abraham Leigh had chosen for a wife, not one of his own +kind, but a dweller in cities--a governess, who exchanged, no doubt, a +life of penury and servitude for the rough but comfortable home the +Somersetshire farmer was willing to give her. Mr. Herbert remembered +her; remembered how utterly out of place the delicate, refined woman +seemed to be as Leigh's wife; remembered how, a few years after the +birth of the boy, she sickened and died. It was from the mother's side +the artistic taste came. + +Mr. Herbert, although a kind man, was cautious. He had no intention of +raising hopes which might be futile. Yet he felt a word of encouragement +was due to the lad. + +"Some of these figures show decided talent," he said. "After seeing +them, I need scarcely ask you if you wish to be a sculptor?" + +Young Leigh clasped his hands together. "Oh, sir!" he gasped. "If it +could only be!" + +"You do not care to be a farmer, like your father?" + +"I could never be a farmer, sir. I am not fit for it." + +"Yet, if you follow in your father's track, you will lead a comfortable, +useful life. If you follow art, you may go through years of poverty and +suffering before success is attained." + +The boy raised his head and looked full at the speaker; there was almost +passionate entreaty in his eyes. + +"Oh, sir," he said, "if you would only persuade my father to let me +try--even for a few years. If I did not succeed I would come back to him +and work as a laborer for the rest of my life without a murmur." + +Mr. Herbert was impressed by the boy's earnestness. "I will speak to +your father," he said. Then the two went back to the sitting-room, where +they found Abraham Leigh much exercised by some difficult questions +propounded by Miss Herbert respecting the nature of Apollyon. + +"Take my little girl for a walk round the garden," said Mr. Herbert to +young Leigh. "I want to speak to your father." + +In spite of the great gulf between her and the clay-bespattered boy +in his shirt sleeves, the little princess was too glad of a change of +scene to wish to disobey her father. She followed her conductor to the +back of the house, and the boy and girl stepped out into the autumnal +sunshine. + +The little maid looked so trim and dainty in her neat riding-habit, +coquettish hat and tiny gloves that his own draggled appearance struck +the boy forcibly. + +"If you will excuse me a minute," he said, "I will run and wash my +hands." + +"Yes; I think it will be better," said Miss Herbert, with dignity. + +In a minute or two young Leigh returned. He had found time not only to +wash the rich red clay from his long, well-shaped fingers, but to slip +on his coat and generally beautify himself. His improved appearance had +a great effect upon the child, who, like most of her age, was influenced +by exteriors. + +So Miss Herbert, this little great lady, unbent and allowed "Jerry" to +lead her round the old-fashioned garden, to the out-houses and pigsties, +where the obese pigs lay oblivious of what fate had in store for them; +to the stables; to the dairy, where she condescended to drink a glass of +new milk, and by the time they had returned to the garden the two were +as good friends as their different stations in life would permit. Young +Leigh, who saw in this dainty little maid the incarnation of fairies, +nymphs, goddesses, and other ideals which, in a dim way, were forming +themselves in his brain, endeavored, after his first shyness had passed +away, to show her what beautiful shapes and forms could be found in +flower, leaf, and tree, and other things in nature. His talk, indeed, +soared far above her pretty little head, and when they returned to the +garden he was trying to make her see that those masses of white clouds +low down in the distance were two bodies of warriors just about to meet +in deadly fray. + +"You are a very, very funny boy," said Miss Herbert, with such an air of +conviction that he was startled into silence. + +"Your name is Jerry, isn't it?" she continued. "Jerry's an ugly name." + +"My name is Gerald--Gerald Leigh." + +"Oh; Gerald!" Even this child could see the impropriety of a tenant +farmer having a son named Gerald. No wonder Abraham Leigh addressed his +boy as Jerry! + +"Do you like being a farmer?" she asked. + +"I am not going to be a farmer; I don't like it." + +"What a pity! Farmers are such a worthy, respectable class of men," said +the girl, using a stock phrase she had caught up somewhere. + +The boy laughed merrily. Mr. Herbert's approbation sat newly upon him, +and he was only talking to a child; so he said: + +"I hope to be worthy and respectable, but a much greater man than a +farmer." + +"Oh! How great? as great as papa?" + +"Yes; I hope so." + +"That's absurd, you know," said Miss Herbert, with all the outraged +family pride that thirteen years can feel; and, turning away, she +switched at the flowers with her riding-whip. + +However, a few words from Gerald made them friends once more, and she +expressed her pleasure that he should pick her one of the few roses +which remained in the garden. + +"Roses are common," said the boy. "Every one gives roses. I will give +you something prettier." + +He went to the sunny side of the house, and soon returned with half a +dozen pale lavender stars in his hands. They were blossoms of a new sort +of late clematis, which some one's gardener had given Abraham Leigh. +Gerald's deft fingers arranged them into a most artistic bouquet, the +appearance of which was entirely spoilt by Miss Herbert's insistence +that two or three roses should be added. The bouquet was just finished +and presented when Mr. Herbert, followed by the farmer, appeared. + +Although he said nothing more to young Leigh on the subject which was +uppermost in the boy's mind, the kindly encouraging look he gave him +raised the widest hopes in his heart. Mr. Herbert bade the father and +son a pleasant good-day, and rode off with his little daughter. + +Miss Herbert carried the bunch of clematis for about two miles when, +finding it rather encumbered her, tossed it over a hedge. + +Gerald Leigh went back to his attic and commenced about half a dozen +clay sketches of the prettiest object which as yet had crossed his path. +For several days he was on thorns to hear what fate had in store for +him; but fate, personified by his father, made no sign, but went about +his work stolid and sphinx-like. Mr. Herbert, Gerald learned, had gone +to London for a few days. + +However, before a fortnight had gone by, Abraham Leigh received a letter +from his landlord, and the same evening, whilst smoking his pipe in the +farm kitchen, informed his son and his sister that to-morrow he was +going into Gloucestershire to see if his brother Joseph could spare him +one of his many boys to take Jerry's place. Jerry was to go to London +the next day and meet Mr. Herbert. Most likely he'd stay there. 'Twas +clear as noontide the boy would never make a farmer, and if there were +fools enough in the world to buy white figures at hundreds of pounds +apiece, Jerry might as well try to make his living that way as any +other. + +The truth is, Mr. Herbert told Abraham Leigh that if he would not +consent to pay for his son's art education, he, Mr. Herbert, would +bear the expense himself. But the monetary part of it troubled the +substantial farmer little. He could pay for his child's keep if he could +bring his mind to consent to his going. And now the consent was given. + +Gerald heard his father's communication with glowing eyes. For shame's +sake he hid his joy, for he knew that, with all his stolid demeanor, his +father almost broke down as he contemplated the diverging paths his son +and he must henceforward thread. The boy thanked him from his heart, and +the rough farmer, laying his hand on his child's head, blessed him and +bade him go and prosper. + +In this way Gerald Leigh left Coombe-Acton. At long intervals he +reappeared for a few days. The worthy villagers eyed him askance; the +only conception they could form of his profession being connected with +dark-skinned itinerants who bore double-tiered platforms on their heads, +and earned a precarious livehood by traversing the country selling +conventional representations of angels and busts of eminent men. + + +CHAPTER II. + +Some seven years after the ambitious boy left Coombe-Acton, honest +farmer Abraham, just when the old-fashioned hawthorn hedges were in +whitest bloom, sickened, turned his stolid face to the wall and died. +Gerald had been summoned, but arrived too late to see his father alive. +Perhaps it was as well it should be so, the farmer's last moments were +troubled ones and full of regret that Watercress Farm would no longer +know a Leigh. The nephew who had taken Gerald's place had turned out an +utter failure, so much so that Abraham Leigh had roundly declared that +he would be bothered with no more boys, and for the last few years had +managed his business single-handed. However, although Gerald's upheaval +of family traditions made the farmer's deathbed unhappy, he showed +that his son had not forfeited his love. All he possessed, some three +thousand pounds, was left to him. Mr. Herbert took the lease of the farm +off the young man's hands, by and by the live and the dead stock were +sold off, and Watercress Farm was waiting for another tenant. + +The winding-up of the father's affairs kept Gerald in the neighborhood +of some weeks, and when it became known that Mr. Herbert had insisted +upon his taking up his quarters at the hall the simple Coombe-Acton +folks were stricken with a great wonder. Knowing nothing of what is +called the "aristocracy of art," their minds were much exercised by such +an unheard of proceeding. What had "Jerry" Leigh being doing in the last +seven years to merit such a distinction? + +Nothing his agricultural friends could have understood. After picking up +the rudiments of his art in a well-known sculptor's studio, young Leigh +had been sent to study in the schools at Paris. Mr. Herbert told him +that, so far as his art was concerned, Paris was the workshop of the +world,--Rome its bazaar and showroom. So to Paris the boy went. He +studied hard and lived frugally. He won certain prizes and medals, and +was now looking forward to the time when he must strike boldly for fame. +Even now he was not quite unknown. A couple of modest but very beautiful +studies in low relief had appeared in last year's exhibition, and, if +overlooked by the majority, had attracted the notice of a few whose +praise was well worth winning. He was quite satisfied with the results +of his first attempt. In all things that concerned his art he was wise +and patient. No sooner had he placed his foot on the lowest step of the +ladder than he realized the amount of work to be done--the technical +skill to be acquired before he could call himself a sculptor. Even +now, after seven years' study and labor, he had selfdenial enough to +resolve upon being a pupil for three years longer before he made his +great effort to place himself by the side of contemporary sculptors. +Passionate and impulsive as was his true nature, he could follow and woo +art with that calm persistency and method which seem to be the surest +way of winning her smiles. + +He is now a man--a singularly handsome man. If not so tall as his youth +promised, he is well built and graceful. Artist is stamped all over +him. Brow, eyes, even the slender, well-shaped hands, proclaim it. The +general expression of his face is one of calm and repose; yet an acute +observer might assert that, when the moment came, that face might depict +passions stronger than those which sway most men. + +His dark hair and eyes, and something in the style of his dress, gave +him a look not quite that of an Englishman--a look that terribly vexed +poor Abraham Leigh on those rare occasions when his erratic boy paid him +a visit; but, nevertheless, it is a look not out of place on a young +artist. + +This is the kind of man Gerald Leigh has grown into; and, whilst his +transformation has been in progress, Miss Eugenia Herbert has become a +woman. + +Although remembering every feature of the child, who seemed in some way +associated with the day of his liberation, Gerald had not again seen +her until his father's death called him back to England. Each time he +had visited Coombe-Acton he had, of course, reported progress to Mr. +Herbert; but, shortly after the change in his life, Mr. Herbert by a +great effort of self-denial, had sent his darling away to school, and at +school she had always been when Gerald called at the Hall; but now, when +he accepted Mr. Herbert's hospitality, he found the fairy-like child +grown, it seemed to him, into his ideal woman, and found, moreover, that +there was a passion so intense that even the love of art must pale +before it. + +He made no attempt to resist it. He let it master him; overwhelm him; +sweep him along. Ere a week had gone by, not only by looks, but also in +burning words, he had told Eugenia he loved her. And how did he fare? + +His very audacity and disregard of everything, save that he loved +the girl, succeeded to a marvel. Eugenia had already met with many +admirers, but not one like this. Such passionate pleading, such fiery +love, such vivid eloquence were strange and new to her. There was an +originality, a freshness, a thoroughness in the love he offered her. +His very unreasonableness affected her reason. All the wealth of his +imagination, all the crystallizations of his poetical dreams, he threw +into his passion. His ecstasy whirled the girl from her mental feet; his +warmth created an answering warmth; his reckless pleading conquered. She +forgot obstacles as his eloquence overleaped them; she forgot social +distinction as his great dark eyes looked into hers, and at last she +confessed she loved him. + +Then Gerald Leigh came down from the clouds and realized what he had +done, and as soon as he touched the earth and became reasonable Eugenia +fancied she did not care for him quite so much. + +His conscience smote him. Not only must Mr. Herbert be reckoned with, +but a terrible interval must elapse before he had fame and fortune to +lay before Eugenia. He could scarcely expect her to leave her luxurious +home in order to live _au quatrieme_ or _au cinquieme_ in Paris whilst +he completed his studies. He grew sad and downcast as he thought of +these things, and Eugenia, who liked pleasant, bright, well-to-do +people, felt less kindly disposed toward him and showed she did so. + +This made him reckless again. He threw the future to the winds, +recommenced his passionate wooing, recovered his lost ground and gained, +perhaps, a little more. + +But Abraham Leigh's affairs were settled up, and Gerald knew he must +tear himself from Acton Hall and go back to work. He had lingered a few +days to finish a bust of Mr. Herbert. This done he had no excuse for +staying longer. + +The summer twilight deepened into night. The sculptor and Miss Herbert +stood upon the broad and gravelled terrace-walk that runs along the +stately front of Acton Hall. They leaned upon the gray stone balustrade; +the girl with musing eye was looking down on shadowy lawn and flower-bed +underneath; the young man looked at her, and her alone. Silence reigned +long between them, but at last she spoke. + +"You really go to-morrow?" + +"Tell me to stay, and I will stay," he said, passionately, "but next +week--next month--next year, the moment, when it does come, will be just +as bitter." + +She did not urge him. She was silent. He drew very near to her. + +"Eugenia," he whispered, "you love me?" + +"I think so." Her eyes were still looking over the darkening garden. She +spoke dreamily, and as one who is not quite certain. + +"You think so! Listen! Before we part let me tell you what your love +means to me. If, when first I asked for it you had scorned me, I could +have left you unhappy, but still a man. Now it means life or death to +me. There is no middle course--no question of joy or misery--simply life +or death! Eugenia, look at me and say you love me!" + +His dark eyes charmed and compelled her. "I love you! I love you?" she +murmured. Her words satisfied him; moreover, she let the hand he grasped +remain in his, perhaps even returning the pressure of his own. So they +stood for more than an hour, whilst Gerald talked of the future and the +fame he meant to win--talked as one who has the fullest confidence in +his own powers and directing genius. + +Presently they saw Mr. Herbert walking through the twilight towards +them. Gerald's hand tightened on the girl's so as to cause her positive +pain. + +"Remember," he whispered; "life or death! Think of it while we are +apart. Your love means a man's life or death!" + +Many a lover has said an equally extravagant thing, but Eugenia Herbert +knew that his words were not those of poetical imagery, and as she +re-entered the house she trembled at the passion she had aroused. What +if time and opposition should work a change in her feelings? She tried +to reassure herself by thinking that if she did not love him in the same +blind, reckless way, at any rate she would never meet another man whom +she could love as she loved Gerald Leigh. + +The sculptor went back to Paris--to his art and his dreams of love and +fame. Two years slipped by without any event of serious import happening +to the persons about whom we are concerned. Then came a great change. + +Mr. Herbert died so suddenly that neither doctor nor lawyer could be +summoned in time, either to aid him to live or to carry out his last +wishes. His will gave Eugenia two thousand pounds and an estate he owned +in Gloucestershire--everything else to his son. Unfortunately, some +six months before, he had sold the Gloucestershire property, and, with +culpable negligence, had not made a fresh will. Therefore, the small +money bequest was all that his daughter could claim. However, this +seemed of little moment, as her brother at once announced his intention +of settling upon her the amount to which she was equitably entitled. He +had given his solicitors instructions to prepare the deed. + +James Herbert, Eugenia's brother, was unmarried, and at present had no +intention of settling down to the life of a country gentleman. Six weeks +after Mr. Herbert's death the greater number of the servants were paid +off, and Acton Hall was practically shut up. Eugenia, after spending +some weeks with friends in the north of England, came to London to live +for an indefinite time with her mother's sister, a Mrs. Cathcart. + +Since her father's death Gerald Leigh had written to her several +times--letters full of passionate love and penned as if the writer felt +sure of her constancy and wish to keep her promise. He, too, was coming +to London. Had she wished it, he would at once have come to her side; +but as it was he would take up his quarters in town about the same time +Eugenia arrived there. + +The hour was at hand--the hour to which Miss Herbert had for two years +looked forward with strangely mingled feelings--when her friends must be +told that she intended to marry the young, and as yet unknown sculptor, +Gerald Leigh, the son of her father's late tenant farmer, Abraham. + +She loved him still. She felt sure of that much. If time and absence had +somewhat weakened the spell he had thrown over her proud nature, she +knew that unless the man was greatly changed the magic of his words +and looks would sway her as irresistibly as before. She loved him, yet +rebelled against her fate. + +Her father had died ignorant of what had passed between his daughter +and the young artist. Many a time Eugenia had tried to bring herself to +confess the truth to him. She now regretted she had not done so. Mr. +Herbert's approval or disapproval would have been at least a staff by +which to guide her steps. He had suspected nothing. The few letters +which passed between the lovers had been unnoticed. Their love was as +yet a secret known only to themselves. + +She loved him, but why had he dared to make her love him? Or, why was +he not well-born and wealthy? Could she find strength to face, for his +sake, the scorn of her friends? + +She must decide at once. She is sitting and thinking all these things in +her own room at Mrs. Cathcart's, and in front of her lies a letter in +which Gerald announces his intention of calling upon her to-morrow. She +knows that if she receives him she will be bound to proclaim herself his +affianced wife. + +He called. She saw him. Mrs. Cathcart was out, So Eugenia was alone +when the servant announced Mr. Leigh. She started and turned pale. She +trembled in every limb as he crossed the room to where she stood. He +took her hand and looked into her face. He spoke, and his rich musical +voice thrilled her. + +"Eugenia, is it life or death?" + +She could not answer. She could not turn her eyes from his. She saw the +intensity of their expression deepen; saw a fierce yearning look come +into them, a look which startled her. + +"Is it life or death?" he repeated. + +His love conquered. "Gerald, it is life," she said. + +Drunk with joy, he threw his arms around her and kissed her until the +blushes dyed her cheeks. He stayed with her as long as she would allow, +but his delight was too delicious to permit him to say much about his +plans for the future. When at last she made him leave her, he gave her +the number of a studio at Chelsea, which he had taken, and she promised +to write and let him know when he might call again. + +They parted. Eugenia walked to the window, and for a long time looked +out on the gay thoroughfare, now full of carriages going to and +returning from the park. Of course, she loved Gerald dearly; that was +now beyond a doubt. But what would she have to go through when the +engagement was announced? what had she to look forward to as his wife? +Must love and worldly misery be synonymous? + +The current of her thoughts was interrupted by the arrival of another +visitor--her brother. James Herbert was a tall young man, faultlessly +dressed, and bearing a general look of what is termed high breeding. He +bore a likeness to his father, but the likeness was but an outward one. +By this time he was a cold cynical man of the world. He had not lived +the best of lives, but, being no fool, had gained experience and +caution. He was clever enough to study human nature with a view of +turning his knowledge to account. Eugenia had some pride of birth; +her brother had, or affected, a great deal more. He was by no means +unpopular; few men could make themselves more agreeable and fascinating +than James Herbert when it was worth his while to be so. In his way he +was fond of his sister; certainly proud of her beauty; and she, who knew +nothing of his true nature, thought him as perfect as a brother can be. + +He kissed her, complimented her on her good looks, then sat down and +made himself pleasant. She answered his remarks somewhat mechanically, +wondering all the time what effect her news would have upon him. She +hated things hanging over her head, and had made up her mind to tell him +of her intentions, if not to-day the next time she met him. + +"The lawyers have almost settled your little matter," he said. "It's +lucky for you I made up my mind at once; things haven't turned out so +well as we expected." + +She thanked him--not effusively, as if he was doing no more than she had +a right to expect. Yet the thought flashed across her that before she +took his bounty she was by honor compelled to make him acquainted with +what she proposed doing. + +"By-the-bye, Eugenia," said Herbert, "you know Ralph Norgate?" + +"Yes. He called a day or two ago. I did not see him." + +"Well, I expect he'll soon call again. He has been forcing his +friendship on me lately. In fact--I'd better tell you--his mind is made +up--you are to be the future Lady Norgate. Now you know what to look +forward to." + +Her face flushed. Her troubles were beginning. + +"But, James," she stammered, "I was just going to tell you--I am already +engaged." + +He raised his eyebrows. To express great surprise was against his creed, +and the idea that Eugenia was capable of disgracing herself did not +enter his head. + +"So much the worse for Norgate," he said. "Who is the happy man?" + +"You will be angry, very angry, I fear." She spoke timidly. His manner +told her she had good grounds for fear. His mouth hardened, but he still +spoke politely and pleasantly. + +"My dear girl, don't discount my displeasure; tell me who it is?" + +"His name is Gerald Leigh." + +"A pretty name, and one which sounds familiar to me. Now, who is Gerald +Leigh?" + +"He is a sculptor." + +"Ah! now I know. Son of that excellent old tenant of my father's. The +genius he discovered on a dungheap. Eugenia, are you quite mad?" + +"He will be a famous man some day." + +Herbert shrugged his shoulders in a peculiarly irritating way. + +"Let him be as famous as he likes. What does it matter?" + +"The proudest family may be proud of allying themselves to a great +artist." + +Herbert looked at his sister with a pitying but amused smile. "My poor +girl, don't be led astray by the temporary glorification of things +artistic. When these fellows grow talked about we ask them to our houses +and make much of them. It's the fashion. But we don't marry them. +Indeed, as they all begin in the lower ranks of life, like your friend, +they are generally provided with wives of their own station, who stay at +home and trouble no one." + +She winced under the sting of his scorn. He saw it, and knew he was +pursuing the right treatment for her disease. + +"Now, this young Leigh," he continued. "What will he be for years and +years? A sort of superior stone-cutter. He will make what living he +can by going about and doing busts of mayors and mayoresses, and other +people of that class, who want their common features perpetuated. +Perhaps he might get a job on a tombstone for a change. Bah! Of course +you have been jesting with me, Eugenia. I shall tell Norgate to call as +soon as possible." + +"I shall marry Gerald Leigh," said Eugenia, sullenly. All the same the +busts and tombstones weighed heavily upon her. + +"That," said her brother, rising, and still speaking with a smile, "I +am not the least afraid of, although you are of age and mistress of two +thousand pounds. You are not cut out to ornament an attic. I need not +say I must countermand that settlement. It must wait until you marry +Norgate or some other suitable man." + +He kissed her and walked carelessly away. To all appearance the matter +did not cause him a moment's anxiety. He was a clever man, and flattered +himself he knew how to treat Eugenia; human nature should be assailed at +its weakest points. + +His carelessness was, of course, assumed; for, meeting Mrs. Cathcart as +she drove home, Eugenia's news was sufficiently disturbing to make him +stop the carriage, seat himself beside his aunt, and beg her to take +another turn in the park, during which he told her what had transpired. + +They were fitting coadjutors. Mrs. Cathcart was delighted to hear of Sir +Ralph's overtures, and was shocked to find that Eugenia was entangled +in some low attachment. She quite agreed that the girl must be led, not +driven; must be laughed, not talked, out of her folly. "Girls nearly +always make fools of themselves once in their lives," said Mr. Cathcart, +cynically. + +"They do," said James Herbert, who knew something about the sex. "All +the same, Eugenia shall not. Find out all about the fellow, where he +lives, and all the rest of it. She doesn't know I've told you about +this. Keep a sharp lookout for any letters." + +So the next day, when Eugenia and her aunt were together, the latter, a +skilled domestic diplomatist, commenced operations by regretting that +Mr. Herbert, although so fond of statuary, had never employed a sculptor +to make his own bust. Mrs. Cathcart spoke so naturally that Eugenia fell +into the trap, and informed her that Mr. Herbert's likeness had been +taken in clay two years ago by a young sculptor then staying at Acton +Hall. It had been done for pleasure, not profit, but her father had +always intended to order a copy in marble. Mrs. Cathcart was delighted. +Did Eugenia know where the young man could be found? + +Eugenia did know. She told her with a tinge of color on her cheeks, +and took advantage of the opportunity, and perhaps soothed her spirit +somewhat by expatiating on what a great man her lover was to become. +Mrs. Cathcart, in return, spoke of geniuses as struggling, poverty +stricken persons, to befriend whom was the one great wish of her life. +It was indeed pleasant for Miss Herbert to hear her aunt speak of her +lover as she might of a hard-working seamstress or deserving laundress. +She had not yet written to Gerald. She must find strength to throw off +her brother's scorn and the busts and tombstones before she again met +her lover. + +Sir Ralph Norgate called that morning. He was a man of about forty. Not +ill-looking, but with the unmistakable appearance of one who had led a +hard life. He was rich, and of fine old family. It was clear to Mrs. +Cathcart that he meant business. Eugenia had met him several times last +year, and it was no news to her that he was her ardent admirer. She was +very cold towards him to-day, but Mrs. Cathcart did not chide her. She, +clever woman, knew that men like Norgate value a prize at what it costs +them to win it. So the baronet came, stayed his appointed time, then +went away, presumably in fair train to a declaration by and by. + + +CHAPTER III. + +The next day, whilst driving with her niece, Mrs. Cathcart was seized +by a sudden thought. "My dear," she said, "let us go and see about that +bust. Where did you say the sculptor man was to be found? Nelson +Studios, King's Road. What number?" + +"No. 10," said Eugenia, wondering if her aunt's sudden resolve would be +productive of good or evil. + +The carriage went to Nelson Studios; the ladies dismounted, and Mrs. +Cathcart tapped at the door of No. 10, a studio which, being a +sculptor's, was of course on the ground-floor. + +The door was opened by a handsome young man whose outside garb was a +ragged old blouse, and whose hands were white with half-dried clay--one +of those hands, moreover, held a short pipe. Indeed, Gerald Leigh was in +as unpresentable trim as when years ago he first met Miss Herbert. + +He did not at once see the girl. She was behind Mrs. Cathcart, and that +lady's majestic presence absorbed all his attention. Mrs. Cathcart put +up her eye-glass. + +"Is your master in?" she asked. + +Gerald laughed. "I am my own master," he said. + +"This is Mr. Leigh, aunt," said Eugenia, coming forward. + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Cathcart, and the palpable meaning of that exclamatory +monosyllable sent the blood to Eugenia's cheek. + +Gerald started as he heard the girl's voice and recognized her in the +shadow. He stretched out his clay-covered hand, then withdrew it and +laughed. Mrs. Cathcart, who saw the action, put on a look of supreme +astonishment; then she recovered herself. + +"Oh, I forgot," she said to Eugenia. "Of course, you have seen Mr. Leigh +before. May we come in, Mr. Leigh?" + +He moved aside and the ladies entered the studio. He placed his two +chairs at their disposal. He wondered the while what had brought Eugenia +to him. He gave her a questioning glance, but her eyes avoided his. Then +Mrs. Cathcart began. She spoke in that manner which certain persons +assume towards those whom they are pleased to think their inferiors. + +"I believe, some time ago, you made a bust of my late brother-in-law, +Mr. Herbert, of Coombe-Acton." + +Gerald bowed. + +"I wish to have a copy of it. Can you make one?" + +"Certainly. In marble?" + +"In marble, of course. How much will it cost?" + +It was a painful experience to Eugenia, to hear her future husband +talked to by Mrs. Cathcart much as that lady talked to the obliging +young men and women at the various emporiums which enjoyed her +patronage. + +"Mr. Herbert was my best friend," said Gerald. "My services are at your +disposal." + +"You do not understand me," said Mrs. Cathcart, coldly. "I asked you +what it would cost." + +Gerald colored and glanced at Eugenia. He was utterly puzzled. It could +only have been through the agency of the girl he loved that this new +patroness sought him. + +"Mr. Leigh was my father's friend, aunt," said Eugenia. + +"My dear! Mr. Leigh is not _my_ friend. I want to know his terms for a +marble bust." + +"Eighty pounds, madam," said Gerald, rather shortly. + +"Oh, much too much! Eugenia, do you not think such a price +extortionate?" + +Eugenia was silent, but her cheeks burned. Gerald's lip quivered with +anger. Only Mrs. Cathcart was calm. "I will pay you forty pounds," she +said, "but then it must be approved by a competent judge." + +"You have heard my terms, madam," said Leigh curtly. + +"Absurd! I will even say fifty pounds. If you like to take that you may +call upon me. Good-morning. Come, Eugenia!" + +She swept out of the studio. Eugenia followed her. She looked back and +saw Gerald's face wearing an expression of actual pain. For a moment her +impulse was to run back, throw her arms round his neck, and defy every +one. However, she did not yield to it, but followed her aunt to the +carriage. + +"I call that young man a most common, ill-bred person," said Mrs. +Cathcart. + +Eugenia flushed. "He is not," she said hotly. "Your manner towards him +must have been most mortifying." + +"My dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Cathcart, in innocent surprise, "and I +was trying to befriend the young man? He presumes on his acquaintance +with your father. I always told your poor father it was a mistake +becoming intimate with persons of that class." + +Eugenia said no more. If she had thought of so doing it was not the +moment to open her heart to Mrs. Cathcart. She went to her room +intending to write to Gerald; but no letter was written that day. How +could she ask him to call at her aunt's after what had occurred? + +"I love him," she said to herself, "but I am not brave enough to give up +all for him. Oh, why did we ever meet?" + +The next morning she received a letter from Gerald. It contained no +reproach--only an entreaty that she would name a time when he might see +her. Mrs. Cathcart was true to her duty. Before James Herbert was out of +bed she had sent him word that a letter had come for Eugenia. He went at +once to his sister. His greeting was quite friendly. + +"Eugenia," he said presently, "of course by now you have put all that +nonsense about that sculptor-fellow out of your pretty head?" + +"It is no nonsense." + +"Well, if you mean to be obstinate I must interfere. Have you seen him +since?" + +"Aunt went to his studio. I was with her." + +"She ought to have known better. If she encourages you we shall quarrel. +Do you correspond? Tell me the truth." + +She offered him Gerald's letter. He waved it aside as a thing beneath +his notice. + +"Have you answered it?" he asked. + +"Not yet. I am just going to." + +Her brother still remained calm and polite, with that contemptuous, +incredulous smile playing round his lips. + +"If you will make a fool of yourself, I can't stop you. If you, with +your beauty and position, choose to go and live in a garret, you must do +so. Still, as your brother, I have certain responsibilities which would +still be mine were your lover the highest in the land. I must make +inquiries as to his character and moral worth--these fellows are +generally a loose lot." + +"You may make what inquiries you choose." + +"Thank you. Now one favor--a command, the last I shall ask or give. You +will not answer this letter--you will not see the man--until I have +satisfied myself on these points. It is not too much to ask, Eugenia." + +She felt the justice of his remarks--could it be she was weak enough to +be glad of a little delay and breathing space? But Gerald's face, as +last she saw it, rose before her. + +"You must name a time," she said. + +"So impatient for true love and social extinction," sneered Herbert. +"Surely you can restrain yourself until this day week." + +It was longer than she had meant. But her brother's bitter sneers +settled it. "So be it," she said, "until this day week." + +The promise given James Herbert dismissed the matter, but he filled up +the next half-hour with the very cream of society gossip, which was +undoubtedly as palatable to Eugenia as it would have been to any other +woman. James Herbert lived within the inner circle, and as to-day, for +purposes of his own, he spoke to Eugenia as if she were one of the +initiated; his conversation was not without charm. + +He was clever to know when to trust. He had not the slightest fear that +Eugenia would break her promise. So he cautioned Mrs. Cathcart to keep +the little fool well within sight, and thus avoid danger of a chance +meeting; to order the servants to refuse the sculptor admission if +he ventured to call--and above all to be sure that Norgate had every +opportunity of pressing his suit. After this he waited calmly, and did +nothing more in the matter for six whole days. + +Days during which Gerald Leigh chafed and fretted. He refused to doubt, +but his heart grew heavy within him. He felt sure that Mrs. Cathcart's +visit boded no good. At last he could bear the suspense no longer. He +called and asked for Eugenia. She was out. He called again--the same +result. He went back to his studio and tried to conquer his growing +uneasiness by hard work. One morning a gentleman called and introduced +himself as James Herbert. + +Gerald received him courteously. Herbert was suave, smiling and bland. +He spoke of the interest he felt in the young sculptor for his father, +Mr. Herbert's sake. He admired some embryo designs, and wished and +prophesied all success. Then, as Gerald began to hope that Eugenia's +brother might some day be his friend, he turned upon him and tore him to +pieces. + +"But, after all, Mr. Leigh, my great object in calling concerns my +sister." + +Gerald grew very pale. + +"She is a good girl, but weak. She has confessed to me that some sort of +romantic nonsense had passed between you." + +"She has vowed to be my wife--no more, no less." + +His impetuosity seemed to amuse Herbert. "I am afraid such a thing +is an impossibility," he said serenely. "I shall not insult you by +telling you she is all but penniless--geniuses, I know, never think of +money--but I fear I must pain you by saying she repents of her hasty +words." + +"That," said Gerald slowly, yet fiercely, "is a lie." + +"My good sir, I cannot allow you to use such words. My temper is fair, +but it has its limits." + +"I apologize," said Gerald sullenly. "I should have said you were +coercing her." + +"I never coerced any one in my life; much less my sister. Naturally, I +shall object to her marriage with you; but that makes no difference." + +"Tell me what you have to tell," said Gerald nervously. He hated and +feared this smooth, smiling man. + +"In a few words, then, my sister is unhappy and unsettled. For several +days she has been trying to answer a letter you sent her. At last she +confided all to me. I am sure I am not going too far when I say she +would be glad to think that all boy and girl promises between you were +forgotten." + +"She sent you to tell me this?" asked Gerald hoarsely. + +"No. She knew I was coming. I am putting her thoughts in my own words." + +"I don't expect you to understand what my love for your sister means; +you could not," said Gerald. "But you know she has vowed to be my wife." + +"Yes; and will keep her promise if you insist upon it." The emphasis +Herbert laid on insist made Gerald's heart sick. + +He said nothing; but, with a strange smile on his white face, he went +to a table and wrote a few words. He handed the paper to his visitor. +"Read," he said; "you say you are her messenger; now you can be mine." +The words were: + +"Eugenia: If this is unanswered I shall believe you wish to recall +everything that has passed between us." + +"Thank you," said Herbert. "This is all I could expect." + +With trembling hands the sculptor placed the paper in an envelope, and +once more tendered it to Herbert. + +"No, thank you," said Herbert. "People have been tempted to suppress +letters before now. Post it in the ordinary way." + +Gerald left the room. He returned in a few moments, and Herbert knew +that the letter had been posted. He had nothing further to do with +Gerald, so held out his hand affably. + +"No," said Gerald, "I would rather not." His eyes were gleaming +strangely. + +"As you will," said Herbert with indifference. + +"I will change my mind," said Gerald in a low voice, and taking the +other's hand; "condemned people always shake hands with the hangman, +I think." + +He spoke with a ghastly attempt at mirth. Herbert left the studio +without another word, but, as he drove to Mrs. Cathcart's, said to +himself, "The sooner that beggar shoots or hangs himself the better." + +He went straight to his sister. He placed his hand on her shoulder, +and, with a look she had never yet seen on his face, said in a cold, +contemptuous manner: + +"Eugenia, I have been taking some trouble on your behalf. To-day two +things are going to happen which will settle your future. Norgate will +be here presently and ask you to be his wife. By the next post you will +get a letter from that stone-cutter. Before you answer it, shut yourself +up and think until you are in a proper frame of mind. Women are fools, +but surely you can't be the biggest among them." + +"You have seen him?" asked Eugenia faintly. + +"Yes. An extremely nice young man--in his place." + +"Was he well?" + +"Very well, and very comfortable. My dear girl, he quite won my +respect--a thoroughly practical young man, with lots of common-sense. +Now good-bye. Don't make any mistake." + +Did she hear aright? Her brother found Gerald a thoroughly practical +young man! The lie was so gigantic that it seemed impossible it could be +all a lie. She was revolving it in her mind even when Sir Ralph Norgate +was announced. + +As for the practical young man, he had locked his door, and thrown +himself on the ground. James Herbert's words had impressed him, and +perhaps his faith in Eugenia's faith was not so great as he fancied. +To-morrow he would know the verdict. He felt sure that if his letter +remained unanswered for twenty-four hours James Herbert had spoken the +truth. + +Miss Herbert found her brother a true prophet. Sir Ralph Norgate offered +his hand, and when the offer was refused, told her he did not mean to +accept her answer as final. She did not, on her part, say anything about +her love being given elsewhere. Then Gerald's letter came, and following +her brother's advice she did think everything over; she sat for hours +trying to nerve herself to answer the letter as love and faith +demanded. + +She loved him. Had he been present her indecision would soon have +vanished; but, as it was, she could reflect fully on what an answer to +his letter must mean--alienation of all her friends--an end of social +ambition--many years, if not a life, of poverty. Eugenia shuddered as +she thought of the consequences, and wished that she and Gerald had +never met. She wished moreover, that the temptations of rank and wealth +held out by her other suitor were less. + +What would Gerald do if his letter was not answered? If she could but +persuade herself that her brother's estimate of his character was the +right one! Possibly it might be; James knew mankind well. If she could +but think so--could believe that Gerald would forget--she might then +find it easier to be wise, and, by taking him at his word, save herself +and perhaps him from what must insure unhappiness. + +So she reasoned--so she excused her half-meditated treason--so she +persuaded herself it would eventually be better for both if they parted. +Yet all the while she knew she loved Gerald Leigh as she could love no +other man. In this mental conflict the day passed and night found the +letter unanswered. Then James Herbert came to her. + +"Eugenia, have you replied to that letter?" + +She shook her head. + +"Give it to me," he said. + +She did so. It was a relief to get rid of it. He tore it into fragments. + +"There," he said. "I knew I could trust your good sense. There is an +end of the affair. It is a secret between you and me, and I shall never +again allude to it." + +For good or ill the die was cast. She had freed herself. But she had +left the room with swimming eyes, and went to Mrs. Cathcart. + +"Aunt," she cried, "will you take me abroad--for a long time?" + +It was hard for Mrs. Cathcart to be called upon to give up the rest of +the London season. But then Mr. Herbert's recent death prevented her +going out much, and it was paramount that Eugenia's future should be +satisfactorily disposed of. So the excellent woman sacrificed herself at +once. + +"I will take you abroad, Eugenia, if you will promise to be Sir Ralph's +wife." + +Eugenia had chosen her own path, and knew where it would lead; yet for +very shame she would not show her thoughts to others. + +"I can promise nothing," she said. "Take me away." + +Three days afterward, Gerald Leigh learned that Eugenia had gone abroad +with her aunt. + +Although in his studio all day long, the sculptor did no work for +weeks; at last he aroused himself, engaged a model and set to work with +feverish energy. From morn to night he thumbed and pushed about the +ductile clay. He laughed in a sort of bitter triumph. His hands had not +lost their cunning. The work grew and grew apace until the clay was done +with, and a fair white block of marble stood in the centre of the studio +waiting to be hewn into the statue which was to be Gerald Leigh's first +high bid for fame. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +It was early in May. The Academy had been open about a week, long enough +for the newspaper critics to tell the public what it ought to admire. +Strange to say, this year the critics were unanimous in bestowing their +highest praises on a piece of statuary, and a great future for the +sculptor was predicted. + +No. 1460 in the catalogue appealed to no one by cheap sentiment or +sensational treatment. It was but the lightly-draped figure of a +beautiful girl; one in the first flush of womanhood. She was in the act +of stepping hastily forward. Her arms were extended as if to welcome, +perhaps embrace, some one who was coming towards her. Her face bore a +smile of eager delight. The grace, the likeness, the life of the figure +arrested each passer by. The fall of the drapery, the position of each +well-rounded limb, conveyed the idea of rapid motion. It was indeed hard +to believe that she was doomed to remain forever in one fixed attitude. +The stock remark of the spectators was that in a minute they expected to +see her at the other side of the room. + +This statute bore no distinguishing title, but those persons who turned +to their catalogues found, under the number and the artist's name, a few +words of poetry: + + "Her hands outstretched + To greet the new love; whilst her feet + Tread, scornful, on the old love's gifts." + +After reading this one turned, of course, to her feet, and found that +one of them was treading on flowers--roses and large star-shaped +blossoms. + +Several people, whilst admiring the statue, fancied they had somewhere +seen the original of that beautiful face; but, save the sculptor, only +one, James Herbert, knew the truth. He cursed Leigh's impertinence, but +was too wise to take any notice of it. Yet he determined to keep Eugenia +from the Academy, if possible. + +She was in town, and in a week's time was to be married to Sir Ralph. +Two months after Mrs. Cathcart had taken her niece abroad, the baronet +joined them, and renewed his proposals; this time with success. The girl +stipulated that the marriage should not take place until the spring. +The truth is she wanted some months' delay in order to get rid of the +memories of Gerald Leigh, and by the time she returned to England +flattered herself she had successfully completed the operation. + +She had in the last few days heard some talk about the statue, but +had steadfastly kept her eyes from the art criticisms, fearing to see +Gerald's name. Nevertheless, she wished to visit the Academy, and was +surprised when James Herbert, now amiability itself, refused to take her +there. + +"You mustn't go this year," he said; "that fellow's statute is creating +quite a furore." + +"Well, what of that!" asked Eugenia, coldly. + +"He has had bad taste enough to represent you. The likeness is +unmistakable. It is a maudlin thing--a girl deserting her old love, or +some such nonsense. Still, you'd better not go." + +Eugenia said no more, but all day long she was thinking of her +brother's words, and longing to see what Gerald had wrought. That +evening she dined out. At the table were several persons who worshipped +art, and Eugenia's cheek burned as she heard the praise bestowed on the +new sculptor and the great future prophesied for him. Had she, after +all, been wrong? Would it not have been better to have followed the +mandates of her heart? Had she not been weak and mercenary? No matter; +it was too late now to repent. Poor Gerald! She must see this wonderful +image of herself. + +Early next morning she went alone to Burlington House. Unlike others, +she knew the meaning of the statue, knew the mute reproach it conveyed, +knew why the marble foot trod down those particular flowers. She had +never told him the fate of his boyish gift; but Gerald had often and +often recalled his first meeting with her. Eugenia's heart swelled as +she remembered his brave words and confidence in himself--how sure he +felt of success. He had, indeed, succeeded, but the first great work +from his hands was a memento of his love for a faithless woman--herself. + +Two gentlemen were at her side. They were talking of the work and the +sculptor. One of them she knew. He was a lord, famous for his love of +art and encouragement of rising artists. + +"I tried to buy it," he said, "but found it was not for sale." + +"Commercially speaking," said his companion, "it is as well you cannot +buy it." + +"Why? The man must go to the top of his profession." + +"I think not. Indeed, my belief is he will do little more. I have +inquired about him. He does not live the life a genius must live in +these days if he wants to succeed." + +"I am sorry to hear it," said Lord ----, moving away. + +Miss Herbert left the Academy with an echo of Gerald's extravagant +statement that life or death hung upon her love sounding in her ears. +The conversation she had overheard distressed her greatly. The thought +that her treachery had ruined a life full of promise would not be +dismissed. She spent a most miserable day, and its misery was not +diminished by the truth, which she could no longer conceal from herself, +that she still loved Gerald. She loved him more than ever. Too late! too +late! And Eugenia Herbert wept, as many others have wept, that the past +could not be undone. + +Sir Ralph Norgate and James Herbert dined that evening at Mrs. +Cathcart's. Their society was little comfort to Eugenia. She felt now +that she hated her lover--hated his polite, hollow society ways and +expressions--hated that _blasé_ look which so often settled on his face. +She had never cared for him. Their love-making had been of a frigid +kind--not, be it said, by Sir Ralph's wish. He was proud of, and perhaps +really fond of, the beautiful girl he had bought; so it was scarcely +fair that Eugenia should compare his polite wooing with that of the +impassioned boy's, which recked no obstacles--heeded no consequences. + +Her bitter thoughts made it impossible for her to sit out the dinner. +Very soon she pleaded headache and went to her own room to resume her +self-revilings. She made no further attempt to banish Gerald from +her thoughts. She lived again every moment she had spent in his +company--heard again every word of wild love--felt his hand close on +hers--his lips press her own--and shuddered as the dismal words "Life or +death," seemed echoing through her ears. If she could but undo the past! + +Why not! The thought rushed through her. What hindered her save the +false gods to whom she had bent? She was still legally free. Gerald +was in the same town. Why should she heed her friends? Why trouble as +to what people would think or say? By one bold step she could right +everything. If to-morrow--nay, this very hour--she went to Gerald and +bade him take her and hold her against all, she knew he would do so. He +would forgive. To him her action would not seem bold or unmaidenly. In +his eyes she would rank as high as ever; and what mattered the rest? +To-morrow they might be miles away, and the bliss of being Gerald's wife +might well compensate for what people would say about her conduct. She +herself could forget all, save that she was now bound forever to the man +she loved! + +She would do it. With feverish impatience she threw off her rich dress +and wrapped herself in a plain cloak. She put on the quietest hat she +could find, stole down stairs, and was out of the house before second +thoughts had time to bring irresolution. Her heart beat wildly. She +hailed a cab and was driven to Nelson Studios. On the way she remembered +it was an unlikely hour to find an artist in his studio, but, +nevertheless, now she had set out, resolved to complete her journey. + +She walked quickly to Gerald's door. She knocked softly, but met +with no response. She dared not wait longer outside. The pictured +consequences of her rash act were assuming tremendous proportions in +her brain. Another minute's delay and she must leave the spot never to +return. She turned the handle of the door and entered the room. + +Now, Miss Herbert's half-formed plan of action when she found herself +face to face with her ill-treated lover, had been something like +this--she would walk up to him and simply say, "Gerald, I am come." The +rest must be left to him, but she believed, in spite of her weakness and +treachery, he would freely forgive her all. + +Gerald was not in the studio. The gas was half-turned down, and the clay +casts on the wall looked grim and spectral. But, if Gerald was not in +the room it was still inhabited. On a low couch--a couch covered by a +rich Oriental rug--lay a woman, fast asleep. + +She crept across the room and gazed on the sleeper. Even by the dim +gas-light she knew that she gazed on beauty before which her own must +pale. The woman might have been some five years older than herself, and +those wonderful charms were at their zenith. The rich, clear, warm color +on the cheek, the long black lashes, the arched and perfect eyebrows, +told of Southern lands. The full, voluptuous figure, the shapely, +rounded arms, the red lips, the soft creamy neck--before these the heart +of man would run as wax before a fire. Eugenia, seeking her lover, found +this woman in her stead. + +A bitter, scornful smile played on Miss Herbert's lips as she gazed at +the sleeper. Somehow that oval, sunny face seemed familiar to her. Well +might it be. In London, Paris, everywhere, she had seen it in the shop +windows. There were few people in France or England who had not heard +the name of Mlle. Carlotta, singer, dancer, darling of opera-bouffe, +whose adventures and amours were notorious, who had ruined more men than +she could count on the fingers of her fair hands. + +Eugenia recognized her, and her smile of scorn deepened. The sight of +a half-emptied champagne bottle close to the sleeper, a half-smoked +cigarette lying on the floor just as it had fallen from her fingers, +added nothing to the contempt Miss Herbert's smile expressed. Gathering +her skirts together to avoid any chance of contamination by touch, she +was preparing to leave the studio as noiselessly as she had entered it, +when suddenly the sleeper awoke. + +Awoke without any warning. Simply opened her splendid dark eyes, stared +for half a second, then, with wonderful lightness and agility, sprang to +her feet. + +"_Que faites vous la?_ Why are you here?" she cried. + +Without a word Eugenia moved towards the door. Mlle. Carlotta was before +her. She turned the key and placed her back against the door. + +"_Doucement! doucement! ma belle_," she said. "Permit me to know who +honors me with a visit?" + +"I wished to see Mr. Leigh. I suppose he is out. Be good enough to let +me pass." + +"Are you a model, then? But no; models look not as you look." + +"I am not a model." + +"Not! _fi donc!_ You are, perhaps, one of those young misses who write +Geraldo letters of love. _A la bonne heure!_ I wish to see one of +them--_moi_." + +With a saucy smile Carlotta pocketed the key, turned up the gas, and +commenced a cool scrutiny of her prisoner. Eugenia blushed crimson. + +"_Qui vous etes belle, ma chere--belle mais blonde_, and Geraldo, he +loves not the blonde." + +"Let me pass!" said Eugenia, stamping her foot. + +Her tormentor laughed, but not ill-temperedly. + +"He will soon be here," she said mockingly. "Surely Mademoiselle will +wait. He will be enchanted to see one of the young misses." + +Mlle. Carlotta, when not injured, was not vindictive or unkindly; but +she was as mischievous as a monkey. No doubt, having teased the girl to +her satisfaction, she would have soon released her, but it happened that +Eugenia turned her head, and for the first time the light shone full +upon her face. Her gaoler started. She sprang towards her, seized her +arm and dragged her across the room. Still holding her captive, she tore +down a sheet and revealed the clay model of the statue which had made +Gerald famous. She looked from the lifeless to the living face then +burst into a peal of derisive laughter. Eugenia's secret was discovered. + +"Ha! ha! ha! The young miss that Geraldo loved. The one who threw him +away for a rich lover! Yet, she wishes to see him again--so at night she +comes. Ah, Mademoiselle, you have w-r-r-recked him, c-r-r-rushed him, +r-r-ruined him, still would see him. Good; good! it is now his turn. My +Gerald shall have revenge--revenge!" + +Eugenia, thoroughly aroused, commanded her to let her go. Carlotta +laughed in her face, was even ill-bred enough to snap her fingers and +poke out her tongue at her prisoner. Eugenia humbled herself, and +implored her by their common womanhood. Carlotta laughed the louder. +Eugenia appealed to her venality, and tried to bribe her. Carlotta +lowered her black eyebrows and scowled, but laughed louder than ever. +"He will come very soon," was all she said. "He will not stop long away +from me--Carlotta." + +Miss Herbert was at her wit's end. Yet, even through the shame of the +situation, the anguish of her heart made itself felt. After having +wrought herself up to make such a sacrifice, such an atonement, it was +pitiable to find Gerald no better than the rest of his sex! She sat upon +a chair longing for release, yet dreading to hear the step which would +herald it. + +Half an hour passed. Mlle. Carlotta whiled it away by emptying a glass +of champagne, smoking a cigarette, and making comments upon Gerald's +prolonged absence. Presently she cried, "Ah, Mademoiselle, this is dull +for you; see, I will dance to you," and therewith she raised herself on +her toes and went pirouetting round her captive, humming the while +an air of Offenbach's. Her dress was long, but she managed it with +marvellous skill, and Eugenia, whilst loathing, could not help watching +her with a sort of fascination. She was as agile as a panther; every +attitude was full of grace, every gesture alluring. + +Suddenly she stopped short. Her great eyes sparkled even more brightly. +She glanced at her victim. "Hist!" she said. "I hear him. I know his +step. He comes!" + +A moment afterwards the door was tried. Eugenia covered her face with +her hands. She knew not what the woman meant to do or say, but she felt +that her crowning shame was at hand. Yet her heart beat at the thought +of seeing Gerald once more, and a wild idea of forgiveness on either +side passed through her. + +Mlle. Carlotta turned down the gas, unlocked the door, and, as it +opened, threw herself into the arms of the new-comer. Eugenia heard the +sound of kisses given and returned, and her heart grew like stone. + +"Geraldo, _mon ami_," she heard the dancer say in passionate tones, +"_dis moi, que tu m'aimes--que tu m'aimes toujours!_" + +"_Je t'adore ma belle--tu es ravissante!_" + +"Tell me in your own dear barbarous tongue. Swear it to me in English." + +"I swear it, my beautiful gipsy. I love you." + +"Me only?" + +"You only;" and Eugenia heard him kiss her again and again. + +"Dis done, my Geraldo. You love me more than the pale-faced miss who +scorned you?" He laughed a wild, unpleasant sounding laugh. + +"Why not? You can love or say you can love. She was the changeable white +moon; you are the glorious Southern sun. She was ice; you are fire. +Better be burnt to death than die of cold and starvation. Men have +worshipped you--men have died for you. I love you." + +They came into the room. His arm was round her. Her radiant face rested +on his shoulder. Again and again he kissed those beautiful lips. His +eyes were only for her and saw not Eugenia. + +Miss Herbert rose. Her face was as white as her marble prototype's. She +might have passed out unobserved by Gerald, but Mlle. Carlotta was on +the watch. She pointed to her, and Gerald turned and saw Eugenia. + +He had but time to realize it was no vision--then she was gone. With a +wild cry he turned to follow her, but the woman twined her arms around +him and restrained him. She was strong, and for some moments detained +him. Her resistance maddened him. With a fierce oath he grasped her +round arms and tore them from his neck, throwing her away with such +force that she fell upon the floor. Then he rushed after Eugenia. + +She was walking swiftly along the road. He soon reached her side; but, +although aware of his presence, she neither spoke nor looked at him. + +"What brought you here?" he said hoarsely. + +She made no reply--only walked the faster. + +"Tell me why you came?" he said. "I will never leave you until you +answer me." + +She turned and looked at him. Fresh from that scene in the studio--with +those words still ringing in her ears--even the great change she saw in +his face did not move her to pity. + +"I came," she said, "on the eve of my marriage, to ask forgiveness of a +man whom I fancied I had wronged. I am glad I came. I found him happy, +and in society after his own heart." + +Her voice was cold and contemptuous. He quivered beneath her scorn. At +that moment a cab passed. Eugenia called it. + +"Leave me!" she said to Gerald. "Leave me! Our paths in life shall cross +no more." + +He grasped her wrist. "Do you dare to reproach me? You! Eugenia, I told +you it was life or death." + +"Life or death!" she repeated. "Death, at any rate, seems made very +sweet to you." + +Still holding her wrist, he looked into her eyes in a strange, hopeless +way. He saw nothing in them to help him. He leaned down to her ear. + +"Yes, death," he said in a solemn whisper; "but the moral and spiritual +death comes first." + +His hand left her wrist. He turned, and without a word strode away. +Whither? Even as Tannhauser returned to the Venusberg, so Gerald Leigh +returned to his studio and Carlotta. + +Eugenia wept all the way home. Wept for herself and Gerald. Wept for +the shame she had endured. Wept for the uselessness of the contemplated +atonement. Wept for the life before her, and for a man's future and +career wrecked by her weakness. + +The next week she married Sir Ralph Norgate. The ceremony was surrounded +by befitting splendor. Yet, even at the alter, Gerald Leigh's pale +passionate face rose before her, and she knew it would never leave her +thoughts. She loved him still! + +On her wedding morning she received many letters. She had no time to +read them, so took them with her, and perused them as she went north +with her husband. Among them was one in a strange handwriting; it ran +thus: + +"For your sake he struck me--Carlotta! But he came back to me and is +mine again. Him I forgive; not you. We go abroad together to warm, sunny +lands. Some day we shall quarrel and part. Then I shall remember you +and take my revenge. How? That husband, for whom you deserted Gerald, I +shall take from you." + +Eugenia's lip curled. She tore the letter and threw the pieces out of +the carriage window. + +Two years afterwards Lady Norgate was listlessly turning the leaves of +a society journal. Although she was a great and fashionable lady she +was often listless, and found life rather a dreary proceeding. She +read to-day, among the theatrical notes, that Mlle. Carlotta, the +divine opera bouffe actress, was engaged to appear next month at the +"Frivolity." Although the woman's absurd threat was unheeded, if not +forgotten, her name recalled too vividly the most painful episode in +Lady Norgate's life. She turned to another part of the paper and +read that the gentleman who committed suicide under such distressing +circumstances, at Monaco, had now been identified. He was Mr. Gerald +Leigh, the sculptor, whose first important work attracted so much +attention two years ago. It was hinted that his passion for a well-known +actress was the cause of the rash deed. + +Lady Norgate dropped the paper, and covered her face with her hands. He +had spoken truly. Her love meant life or death! + +Had she believed, or troubled about the concluding paragraph of the +notice, had she ventured to tell herself it was true that Gerald had +forgotten her, and Carlotta was responsible for his death, her mind +would soon have been set at rest. + +Like a courteous foe who gives fair warning, Mlle. Carlotta wrote once +more: + +"He is dead. He died for your sake, not mine. Your name, not mine, was +on his lips. Look to yourself. I am coming to London." + +No doubt Carlotta meant this letter as a first blow towards revenge. +She would hardly have written it had she known that Lady Norgate would +cherish those words forever. Poor comfort as it was, they told her that +Gerald had loved her to the last. + +Then Mlle. Carlotta, more beautiful, more enticing, more audacious than +ever, came to London. + +For some months it had been whispered in society that Sir Ralph Norgate +was not so perfect a husband as such a wife as Eugenia might rightly +expect. After Carlotta's reappearance the whispers grew louder, the +statements more circumstantial. Eugenia caught an echo of them and +smiled disdainfully. + +Then the name of Carlotta's new victim became town-talk. Yet Eugenia +made no sign. + +Not even when she met her husband, in broad daylight, seated side by +side with the siren. The man had the grace to turn his head away, but +Carlotta shot a glance of malicious triumph at the pale lady who passed +without a quiver of the lip. James Herbert was with his sister, and +found this encounter too much even for his cynicism. He was bound to +speak. + +"The blackguard!" he said. "But Eugenia, I don't think I would have a +divorce or a separation. It makes such a scandal." + +"It is a matter of perfect indifference to me," she said coldly. + +She spoke the truth. Carlotta's romantic vengeance was an utter failure. +Lady Norgate and her husband were, in truth, no farther apart than they +had been for many months. Eugenia was indifferent. + +And, as time goes on, grows more and more so. Indifferent to wealth, +indifferent to rank, to pleasure, even to pain. She cherishes nothing, +cares for nothing, save the remembrance that she was once loved by +Gerald Leigh--that he bade her give him life or death--that although she +gave him death, he died with her name on his lips! + + + + +CARRISTON'S GIFT. + +PART I. + +_TOLD BY PHILIP BRAND, M.D., LONDON._ + + +I. + +I wish I had the courage to begin this tale by turning to my +professional visiting books, and, taking at random any month out of the +last twenty years, give its record as a fair sample of my ordinary work. +The dismal extract would tell you what a doctor's--I suppose I may say +a successful doctor's--lot is, when his practice lies in a poor and +densely-populated district of London. Dreary as such a beginning might +be, it would perhaps allay some of the incredulity which this tale may +probably provoke, as it would plainly show how little room there is for +things imaginative or romantic in work so hard as mine, or among such +grim realities of poverty, pain, and grief as those by which I have been +surrounded. It would certainly make it appear extremely unlikely that +I should have found time to imagine, much less to write, a romance or +melodrama. + +The truth is that when a man has toiled from nine o'clock in the +morning until nine o'clock at night, such leisure as he can enjoy is +precious to him, especially when even that short respite is liable to +be broken in upon at any moment. + +Still, in spite of the doleful picture I have drawn of what may be +called "the daily grind," I begin this tale with the account of a +holiday. + +In the autumn of 1864 I turned my back with right good-will upon London +streets, hospitals, and patients, and took my seat in the North Express. +The first revolution of the wheels sent a thrill of delight through my +jaded frame. A joyful sense of freedom came over me. I had really got +away at last! Moreover, I had left no address behind me, so for three +blessed weeks might roam an undisputed lord of myself. Three weeks were +not very many to take out of the fifty-two, but they were all I could +venture to give myself; for even at that time my practice, if not so +lucrative as I could wish, was a large and increasing one. Having done +a twelvemonth's hard work, I felt that no one in the kingdom could +take his holiday with a conscience clearer than mine, so I lay back in +a peculiarly contented frame of mind, and discounted the coming +pleasures of my brief respite from labor. + +There are many ways of passing a holiday--many places at which it may be +spent; but after all, if you wish to enjoy it thoroughly there is but +one royal rule to be followed. That is, simply to please yourself--go +where you like, and mount the innocent holiday hobby which is dearest +to your heart, let its name be botany, geology, entomology, conchology, +venery, piscation, or what not. Then you will be happy, and return well +braced up for the battle of life. I knew a city clerk with literary +tastes, who invariably spent his annual fortnight among the mustiest +tomes of the British Museum, and averred that his health was more +benefited by so doing than if he had passed the time inhaling the +freshest sea-breezes. I dare say he was right in his assertion. + +Sketching has always been my favorite holiday pursuit. Poor as my +drawings may be, nevertheless, as I turn them over in my portfolio, they +bring to me at least vivid remembrances of many sweet and picturesque +spots, happy days, and congenial companions. It was not for me to say +anything of their actual merits, but they are dear to me for their +associations. + +This particular year I went to North Wales, and made Bettws-y-Coed my +headquarters. I stayed at the Royal Oak, that well-known little inn dear +to many an artist's heart, and teeming with reminiscences of famous men +who have sojourned there times without number. It was here I made the +acquaintance of the man with whose life the curious events here told are +connected. + +On the first day after my arrival at Bettws my appreciation of my +liberty was so thorough, my appetite for the enjoyment of the beauties +of nature so keen and insatiable, that I went so far and saw so much, +that when I returned to the Royal Oak night had fallen and the hour of +dinner had long passed by. I was, when my own meal was placed on the +table, the only occupant of the coffee-room. Just then a young man +entered, and ordered something to eat. The waiter knowing no doubt +something of the frank _camaraderie_ which exists, or should exist, +between the followers of the painter's craft, laid his cover at my +table. The new-comer seated himself, gave me a pleasant smile and a +nod, and in five minutes we were in full swing of conversation. + +The moment my eyes fell upon the young man I had noticed how singularly +handsome he was. Charles Carriston--for this I found afterwards to +be his name--was about twenty-two years of age. He was tall, but +slightly built; his whole bearing and figure being remarkably elegant +and graceful. He looked even more than gentlemanly,--he looked +distinguished. His face was pale, its features well-cut, straight, and +regular. His forehead spoke of high intellectual qualities, and there +was somewhat of that development over the eye-brows which phrenologists, +I believe, consider as evidence of the possession of imagination. The +general expression of his face was one of sadness, and its refined +beauty was heightened by a pair of soft, dark, dreamy-looking eyes. + +It only remains to add that, from his attire, I judged him to be an +artist--a professional artist--to the backbone. In the course of +conversation I told him how I had classified him. He smiled. + +"I am only an amateur," he said; "an idle man, nothing more--and you?" + +"Alas! I am a doctor." + +"Then we shall not have to answer to each other for our sins in +painting." + +We talked on pleasantly until our bodily wants were satisfied. Then came +that pleasant craving for tobacco, which after a good meal, is natural +to a well-regulated digestion. + +"Shall we go and smoke outside?" said Carriston. "The night is +delicious." + +We went out and sat on one of the wooden benches. As my new friend said, +the night was delicious. There was scarcely a breath of air moving. The +stars and the moon shone brightly, and the rush of the not far distant +stream came to us with a soothing murmur. Near us were three or four +jovial young artists. They were in merry mood; one of them had that day +sold a picture to a tourist. We listened to their banter until, most +likely growing thirsty, they re-entered the inn. + +Carriston had said little since we had been out of doors. He smoked +his cigar placidly and gazed up at the skies. With the white moonlight +falling on his strikingly-beautiful face--the graceful pose into which +he fell--he seemed to me the embodiment of poetry. He paid no heed +to the merry talk or the artists, which so much amused me--indeed, I +doubted if he heard their voices. + +Yet he must have done so, for as soon as they had left us he came out of +his reverie. + +"It must be very nice," he said, "to have to make one's living by Art." + +"Nice for those who can make livings by it," I answered. + +"All can do that who are worth it. The day of neglected genius is gone +by. Muller was the last sufferer, I think--and he died young." + +"If you are so sanguine, why not try your own luck at it?" + +"I would; but unfortunately I am a rich man." + +I laughed at this misplaced regret. Then Carriston, in the most simple +way, told me a good deal about himself. He was an orphan; an only child. +He had already ample means; but fortune had still favors in store for +him. At the death of his uncle, now an aged man, he must succeed to a +large estate and a baronetcy. The natural, unaffected way in which he +made these confidences, moreover made them not, I knew, from any wish +to increase his importance in my eyes, greatly impressed me. By the +time we parted for the night I had grown much interested in my new +acquaintance--an interest not untinged by envy. Young, handsome, rich, +free to come or go, work or play, as he listed! Happy Carriston! + + +II. + +I am disposed to think that never before did a sincere friendship, one +which was fated to last unbroken for years, ripen so quickly as that +between Carriston and myself. As I now look back I find it hard to +associate him with any, even a brief, period of time subsequent to our +meeting, during which he was not my bosom friend. I forget whether our +meeting at the same picturesque spot on the morning which followed our +self-introduction was the result of accident or arrangement. Anyway, we +spent the day together, and that day was the precursor of many passed in +each other's society. Morning after morning we sallied forth to do our +best to transfer the same bits of scenery to our sketching-blocks. +Evening after evening we returned to dine side by side, and afterward to +talk and smoke together, indoors or outdoors as the temperature advised +or our wishes inclined. + +Great friends we soon became--inseparable as long as my short holiday +lasted. It was, perhaps, pleasant for each to work in company with an +amateur like himself. Each could ask the other's opinion of the merits +of the work done, and feel happy at the approval duly given. An artist's +standard of excellence is too high for a non-professional. When he +praises your work he praises it but as the work of an outsider. You feel +that such commendation condemns it and disheartens you. + +However, had Carriston cared to do so, I think he might have fearlessly +submitted his productions to any conscientious critic. His drawings were +immeasurably more artistic and powerful than mine. He had undoubtedly +great talent, and I was much surprised to find that good as he was at +landscape, he was even better at the figure. He could, with a firm, bold +hand draw rapidly the most marvellous likenesses. So spirited and true +were some of the studies he showed me, that I could without flattery +advise him, provided he could finish as he began, to keep entirely to +the higher branch of the art. I have now before me a series of outline +faces drawn by him--many of them from memory; and as I look at them the +original of each comes at once before my eyes. + +From the very first I had been much interested in the young man, and as +day by day went by, and the peculiarities of his character were revealed +to me, my interest grew deeper and deeper. I flatter myself that I am +a keen observer and skilful analyst of personal character, and until +now fancied that to write a description of its component parts was an +easy matter. Yet when I am put to the proof I find it no simple task +to convey in words a proper idea of Charles Carriston's mental +organization. + +I soon discovered that he was, I may say, afflicted by a peculiarly +sensitive nature. Although strong and apparently in good health, the +very changes of the weather seemed to affect him almost to the same +extent as they affect a flower. Sweet as his disposition always was, the +tone of his mind, his spirits, his conversation, varied, as it were, +with the atmosphere. He was full of imagination, and that imagination, +always rich, was at times weird, even grotesquely weird. Not for one +moment did he seem to doubt the stability of the wild theories he +started, or the possibility of the poetical dreams he dreamed being +realized. He had his faults, of course; he was hasty and impulsive; +indeed to me one of the greatest charms about the boy was that, right +or wrong, each word he spoke came straight from his heart. + +So far as I could judge, the whole organization of his mind was too +highly strung, too finely wrought for every-day use. A note of joy, of +sorrow, even of pity vibrated through it too strongly for his comfort or +well-being. As yet it had not been called upon to bear the test of love, +and fortunately--I use the word advisedly--fortunately he was not, +according to the usual significance of the word, a religious man, or I +should have thought it not unlikely that some day he would fall a victim +to that religious mania so well known to my professional brethren, and +have developed hysteria or melancholia. He might even have fancied +himself a messenger sent from heaven for the regeneration of mankind. +From natures like Carriston's are prophets made. + +In short, I may say that my exhaustive study of my new friend's +character resulted in a certain amount of uneasiness as to his +future--an uneasiness not entirely free from professional curiosity. + +Although the smile came readily and frequently to his lips, the general +bent of his disposition was sad, even despondent and morbid. And yet few +young men's lives promised to be so pleasant as Charles Carriston's. + +I was rallying him one day on his future rank and its responsibilities. + +"You will, of course, be disgustingly rich?" I said. + +Carriston sighed. "Yes, if I live long enough; but I don't suppose I +shall." + +"Why in the world shouldn't you? You look pale and thin, but are in +capital health. Twelve long miles we have walked to-day--you never +turned a hair." + +Carriston made no reply. He seemed in deep thought. + +"Your friends ought to look after you and get you a wife," I said. + +"I have no friends," he said sadly. "No nearer relation than a cousin a +good deal older than I am, who looks upon me as one who was born to rob +him of what should be his." + +"But by the law of primogeniture, so sacred to the upper ten thousand, +he must know you are entitled to it." + +"Yes; but for years and years I was always going to die. My life was not +thought worth six months' purchase. All of a sudden I got well. Ever +since then I have seemed, even to myself, a kind of interloper." + +"It must be unpleasant to have a man longing for one's death. All the +more reason you should marry, and put other lives between him and the +title." + +"I fancy I shall never marry," said Carriston, looking at me with his +soft dark eyes. "You see, a boy who has waited for years expecting to +die, doesn't grow up with exactly the same feelings as other people. I +don't think I shall ever meet a woman I can care for enough to make my +wife. No, I expect my cousin will be Sir Ralph yet." + +I tried to laugh him out of his morbid ideas. "Those who live will see," +I said. "Only promise to ask me to your wedding, and better still, if +you live in town, appoint me your family doctor. It may prove the +nucleus of that West End practice which it is the dream of every doctor +to establish." + +I have already alluded to the strange beauty of Carriston's dark eyes. +As soon as companionship commenced between us those eyes became to +me, from scientific reasons, objects of curiosity on account of the +mysterious expression which at times I detected in them. Often and often +they wore a look the like to which, I imagine, is found only in the eyes +of a somnambulist--a look which one feels certain is intently fixed upon +something, yet upon something beyond the range of one's own vision. +During the first two or three days of our new-born intimacy, I found +this eccentricity of Carriston's positively startling. When now and then +I turned to him, and found him staring with all his might at nothing, my +eyes were compelled to follow the direction in which his own were bent. +It was at first impossible to divest one's self of the belief that +something should be there to justify so fixed a gaze. However, as the +rapid growth of our friendly intercourse soon showed me that he was a +boy of most ardent poetic temperament--perhaps even more a poet than an +artist--I laid at the door of the Muse these absent looks and recurring +flights into vacancy. + +We were at the Fairy Glen one morning, sketching, to the best of our +ability, the swirling stream, the gray rocks, and the overhanging trees, +the last just growing brilliant with autumnal tints. So beautiful was +everything around that for a long time I worked, idled, or dreamed +in contented silence. Carriston had set up his easel at some little +distance from mine. At last I turned to see how his sketch was +progressing. He had evidently fallen into one of his brown studies, +and, apparently, a harder one than usual. His brush had fallen from his +fingers, his features were immovable, and his strange dark eyes were +absolutely riveted upon a large rock in front of him, at which he gazed +as intently as if his hope of heaven depended upon seeing through it. + +He seemed for the while oblivious to things mundane. A party of +laughing, chattering, terrible tourist girls scrambled down the rugged +steps, and one by one passed in front of him. Neither their presence nor +the inquisitive glances they cast on his statuesque face roused him from +his fit of abstraction. For a moment I wondered if the boy took opium or +some other narcotic on the sly. Full of the thought I rose, crossed over +to him, and laid my hand upon his shoulder. As he felt my touch he came +to himself, and looked up at me in a dazed, inquiring way. + +"Really, Carriston," I said, laughingly, "you must reserve your dreaming +fits until we are in places where tourists do not congregate, or you +will be thought a madman, or at least a poet." + +He made no reply. He turned away from me impatiently, even rudely; then, +picking up his brush, went on with his sketch. After awhile he seemed +to recover from his pettishness, and we spent the remainder of the day +as pleasantly as usual. + +As we trudged home in the twilight, he said to me in an apologetic, +almost penitent way, + +"I hope I was not rude to you just now." + +"When do you mean?" I asked, having almost forgotten the trivial +incident. + +"When you woke me from what you called my dreaming." + +"Oh dear, no. You were not at all rude. If you had been, it was but the +penalty due to my presumption. The flight of genius should be respected, +not checked by a material hand." + +"That is nonsense; I am not a genius, and you must forgive me for my +rudeness," said Carriston simply. + +After walking some distance in silence he spoke again. "I wish when you +are with me you would try and stop me from getting into that state. It +does me no good." + +Seeing he was in earnest I promised to do my best, and was curious +enough to ask him whither his thoughts wandered during those abstracted +moments. + +"I can scarcely tell you," he said. Presently he asked, speaking +with hesitation, "I suppose you never feel that under certain +circumstances--circumstances which you cannot explain--you might be +able to see things which are invisible to others?" + +"To see things. What things?" + +"Things, as I said, which no one else can see. You must know there are +people who possess this power." + +"I know that certain people have asserted they possess what they +call second-sight; but the assertion is too absurd to waste time in +refuting." + +"Yet," said Carriston dreamily, "I know that if I did not strive to +avoid it some such power would come to me." + +"You are too ridiculous, Carriston," I said. "Some people see what +others don't because they have longer sight. You may, of course, imagine +anything. But your eyes--handsome eyes they are, too--contain certain +properties, known as humors and lenses, therefore in order to see--" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted Carriston; "I know exactly all you are going to +say. You, a man of science, ridicule everything which breaks what you +are pleased to call the law of Nature. Yet take all the unaccountable +tales told. Nine hundred and ninety-nine you expose to scorn or throw +grave doubt upon, yet the thousandth rests on evidence which cannot be +upset or disputed. The possibility of that one proves the possibility of +all." + +"Not at all; but enough for your argument," I said, amused at the boy's +wild talk. + +"You doctors," he continued with that delicious air of superiority so +often assumed by laymen when they are in good health, "put too much to +the credit of diseased imagination." + +"No doubt; it's a convenient shelf on which to put a difficulty. But go +on." + +"The body is your province, yet you can't explain why a cataleptic +patient should hear a watch tick when it is placed against his foot." + +"Nor you; nor any one. But perhaps it may aid you to get rid of your +rubbishing theories if I tell you that catalepsy, as you understand it, +is a disease not known to us; in fact, it does not exist." + +He seemed crestfallen at hearing this. "But what do you want to prove?" +I asked. "What have you yourself seen?" + +"Nothing, I tell you. And I pray I may never see anything." + +After this he seemed inclined to shirk the subject, but I pinned him to +it. I was really anxious to get at the true state of his mind. In answer +to the leading questions with which I plied him, Carriston revealed an +amount of superstition which seemed utterly childish and out of place +beside the intellectual faculties which he undoubtedly possessed. So +much so, that at last I felt more inclined to laugh at than to argue +with him. + +Yet I was not altogether amused by his talk. His wild arguments and +wilder beliefs made me fancy there must be a weak spot somewhere in his +brain--even made me fear lest his end might be madness. The thought +made me sad; for, with the exception of the eccentricities which I have +mentioned, I reckoned Carriston the pleasantest friend I had ever made. +His amiable nature, his good looks, and perfect breeding had endeared +the young man to me; so much so, that I resolved, during the remainder +of the time we should spend together, to do all I could toward talking +the nonsense out of him. + +My efforts were unavailing. I kept a sharp lookout upon him, and let +him fall into no more mysterious reveries; but the curious idea that +he possessed, or could possess, some gift above human nature, was too +firmly rooted to be displaced. On all other subjects he argued fairly +and was open to reason. On this one point he was immovable. When I +could get him to notice my attacks at all, his answer was: + +"You doctors, clever as you are with the body, know as little of +psychology as you did three thousand years ago." + +When the time came for me to fold up my easel and return to the drudgery +of life, I parted from Carriston with much regret. One of those solemn, +but often broken, promises to join together next year in another +sketching tour passed between us. Then I went back to London, and during +the subsequent months, although I saw nothing of him, I often thought of +my friend of the autumn. + + +III. + +In the spring of 1865 I went down to Bournemouth to see, for the last +time, an old friend who was dying of consumption. During a great part +of the journey down I had for a travelling companion a well-dressed +gentlemanly man of about forty years of age. We were alone in the +compartment, and after interchanging some small civilities, such as the +barter of newspapers, slid into conversation. My fellow-traveller seemed +to be an intellectual man, and well posted up in the doings of the day. +He talked fluently and easily on various topics, and judging by his talk +must have moved in good society. Although I fancied his features bore +traces of hard living and dissipation, he was not unprepossessing in +appearance. The greatest faults in his face were the remarkable thinness +of the lips, and his eyes being a shade closer together than one cares +to see. With a casual acquaintance such peculiarities are of little +moment, but for my part I should not choose for a friend one who +possessed them without due trial and searching proof. + +At this time the English public were much interested in an important +will case which was then being tried. The reversion to a vast sum of +money depended upon the testator's sanity or insanity. Like most other +people we duly discussed the matter. I suppose, from some of my remarks, +my companion understood that I was a doctor. He asked me a good many +technical questions, and I described several curious cases of mania +which had come under my notice. He seemed greatly interested in the +subject. + +"You must sometimes find it hard to say where sanity ends and insanity +begins," he said thoughtfully. + +"Yes. The boundary-line is in some instances hard to define. To give in +such a dubious case an opinion which would satisfy myself I should want +to have known the patient at the time he was considered quite sane." + +"To mark the difference?" + +"Exactly. And to know the bent of the character. For instance, there is +a friend of mine. He was perfectly sane when last I saw him, but for all +I know he may have made great progress the other way in the interval." + +Then without mentioning names, dates, or places, I described Carriston's +peculiar disposition to my intelligent listener. He heard me with rapt +interest. + +"You predict he will go mad?" he said. + +"Certainly not. Unless anything unforeseen arises he will probably live +and die as sane as you or I." + +"Why do you fear for him, then?" + +"For this reason. I think that any sudden emotion--violent grief, for +instance--any unexpected and crushing blow--might at once disturb the +balance of his mind. Let his life run on in an even groove, and all will +be well with him." + +My companion was silent for a few moments. + +"Did you mention your friend's name?" he asked. + +I laughed. "Doctors never give names when they quote cases." + +At the next station my companion left the train. He bade me a polite +adieu, and thanked me for the pleasure my conversation had given him. +After wondering what station in life he occupied I dismissed him from my +mind, as one who had crossed my path for a short time and would probably +never cross it again. + +Although I did not see Charles Carriston I received several letters from +him during the course of the year. He had not forgotten our undertaking +to pass my next holiday together. Early in the autumn, just as I was +beginning to long with a passionate longing for open air and blue skies, +a letter came from Carriston. He was now, he said, roughing it in the +Western Highlands. He reminded me of last year's promise. Could I get +away from work now? Would I join him? If I did not care to visit +Scotland, would I suggest some other place where he could join me? +Still, the scenery by which he was now surrounded was superb, and the +accommodation he had secured, if not luxurious, fairly comfortable. He +thought we could not do better. A postscript to his letter asked me to +address him as Cecil Carr, not Charles Carriston. He had a reason for +changing his name; a foolish reason I should no doubt call it. When we +met he would let me know it. + +This letter at once decided me to accept his invitation. In a week's +time my arrangements for leave of absence were complete, and I was +speeding northward in the highest spirits, and well equipped with +everything necessary for my favorite holiday pursuit. I looked forward +with the greatest pleasure to again meeting Carriston. I found him at +Callendar waiting for me. The coach did not follow the route we were +obliged to take in order to reach the somewhat unfrequented part of the +country in which our tent was pitched, so my friend had secured the +services of a primitive vehicle and a strong shaggy pony to bear us the +remainder of the journey. + +So soon as our first hearty greetings were over I proceeded to ascertain +how the last year had treated Carriston. I was both delighted and +astonished at the great change for the better which had taken place in +his manner, no less than his appearance. He looked far more robust; he +seemed happier, brighter; although more like ordinary humanity. Not only +had he greeted me with almost boisterous glee, but during our drive +through the wonderful scenery he was in the gayest of spirits and full +of fun and anecdote. I congratulated him heartily upon the marked +improvement in his health, both mentally and physically. + +"Yes, I am much better," he said. "I followed a part of your advice; +gave up moping, tried constant change of scene, interested myself in +many more things. I am quite a different man." + +"No supernatural visitations?" I asked, anxious to learn that his cure +in that direction was complete. + +His face fell. He hesitated a second before answering. + +"No--not now," he said. "I fought against the strange feeling, and I +believe have got rid of it--at least I hope so." + +I said no more on the subject. Carriston plunged into a series of vivid +and mimetic descriptions of the varieties of Scotch character which he +had met with during his stay. He depicted his experiences so amusingly +that I laughed heartily for many a mile. + +"But why the change in your name?" I asked, when he paused for a moment +in his merry talk. + +He blushed, and looked rather ashamed. "I scarcely like to tell you; you +will think my reason so absurd." + +"Never mind. I don't judge you by the ordinary standard." + +"Well, the fact is, my cousin is also in Scotland. I feared if I gave +my true name at the hotel at which I stayed on my way here, he might +perchance see it, and look me up in these wild regions." + +"Well, and what if he did?" + +"I can't tell you. I hate to know I feel like it. But I have always, +perhaps without cause, been afraid of him; and this place is horribly +lonely." + +Now that I understood the meaning of his words, I thought the boy must +be joking; but the grave look on his face showed he was never further +from merriment. + +"Why, Carriston!" I cried, "you are positively ridiculous about your +cousin. You can't think the man wants to murder you?" + +"I don't know what I think. I am saying things to you which I ought not +to say; but every time I meet him I feel he hates me, and wishes me out +of the world." + +"Between wishing and doing there is a great difference. I dare say all +this 's fancy on your part." + +"Perhaps so. Any way, Cecil Carr is as good a name up here as Charles +Carriston, so please humor my whim and say no more about it." + +As it made no difference to me by what name he chose to call himself I +dropped the subject. I knew of old that some of his strange prejudices +were proof against anything I could do to remove them. + +At last we reached our temporary abode. It was a substantial, low-built +house, owned and inhabited by a thrifty middle-aged widow, who, although +well-to-do so far as the simple ideas of her neighbors went, was +nevertheless always willing to add to her resources by accommodating +such stray tourists as wished to bury themselves for a day or two in +solitude, or artists who, like ourselves, preferred to enjoy the +beauties of Nature undisturbed by the usual ebbing and flowing stream of +sightseers. + +As Carriston asserted, the accommodation if homely was good enough for +two single men; the fare was plentiful, and our rooms were the picture +of cleanliness. After a cursory inspection I felt sure that I could for +a few weeks make myself very happy in these quarters. + +I had not been twenty-four hours in the house before I found out one +reason for the great change for the better in Charles Carriston's +demeanor; knew his step was lighter, his eye brighter, his voice gayer, +and his whole bearing altered. Whether the reason was a subject of +congratulation or not I could not as yet say. + +The boy was in love; in love as only a passionate, romantic, imaginative +nature can be; and even then only once in a lifetime. Heedless, +headstrong, impulsive, and entirely his own master, he had given his +very heart and soul into the keeping of a woman. + + +IV. + +That a man of Carriston's rank, breeding and refinement should meet his +fate within the walls of a lonely farm-house, beyond the Trossachs, +seems incredible. One would scarcely expect to find among such humble +surroundings a wife suitable to a man of his stamp. And yet when I saw +the woman who had won him I neither wondered at the conquest nor did I +blame him for weakness. + +I made the great discovery on the morning after my arrival. Eager to +taste the freshness of the morning air, I rose betimes and went for a +short stroll. I returned, and whilst standing at the door of the house, +was positively startled by the beauty of a girl who passed me and +entered, as if she was a regular inhabitant of the place. Not a rosy +Scotch lassie, such as one would expect to find indigenous to the soil; +but a slim, graceful girl, with delicate classical features. A girl with +a mass of knotted light hair, yet with the apparent anomaly, dark eyes, +eyelashes, and eyebrows--a combination which, to my mind, makes a style +of beauty rare, irresistible, and dangerous above all others. The +features which filled the exquisite oval of her face were refined and +faultless. Her complexion was pale, but its pallor in no way suggested +anything save perfect health. To cut my enthusiastic description short, +I may at once say it has never been my good fortune to cast my eyes on a +lovelier creature than this young girl. + +Although her dress was of the plainest and simplest description, no one +could have mistaken her for a servant; and much as I admire the bonny, +healthy Scotch country lassie, I felt sure that mountain air had never +reared a being of this ethereally beautiful type. As she passed me I +raised my hat instinctively. She gracefully bent her golden head, and +bade me a quiet but unembarrassed good-morning. My eyes followed her +until she vanished at the end of the dark passage which led to the back +of the house. + +Even during the brief glimpse I enjoyed of this fair unknown a strange +idea occurred to me. There was a remarkable likeness between her +delicate features and those, scarcely less delicate, of Carriston. +This resemblance may have added to the interest the girl's appearance +awoke in my mind. Any way I entered our sitting-room, and, a prey to +curiosity, and perhaps, hunger, awaited with much impatience the +appearance of Carriston--and breakfast. + +The former arrived first. Generally speaking he was afoot long before I +was, but this morning we had reversed the usual order of things. As soon +as I saw him I cried, + +"Carriston! tell me at once who is the lovely girl I met outside? +An angel with dark eyes and golden hair. Is she staying here like +ourselves?" + +A look of pleasure flashed into his eyes--a look which pretty well told +me everything. Nevertheless he answered as carelessly as if such lovely +young women were as common to the mountain side as rocks and brambles. + +"I expect you mean Miss Rowan; a niece of our worthy landlady. She lives +with her." + +"She cannot be Scotch, with such a face and eyes?" + +"Half-and-half. Her father was called an Englishman; but was, I believe, +of French extraction. They say the name was originally Rohan." + +Carriston seemed to have made close inquiries as to Miss Rowan's +parentage. + +"But what brings her here?" I asked. + +"She has nowhere else to go. Rowan was an artist. He married a sister of +our hostess, and bore her away from her native land. Some years ago she +died, leaving this one daughter. Last year the father died, penniless, +they tell me, so the girl has since then lived with her only relative, +her aunt." + +"Well," I said, "as you seem to know all about her, you can introduce me +by and by." + +"With the greatest pleasure, if Miss Rowan permits," said Carriston. I +was glad to hear him give the conditional promise with as much respect +to the lady's wishes as if she had been a duchess. + +Then, with the liberty a close friend may take, I drew toward me a +portfolio, full, I presumed, of sketches of surrounding scenery. To my +surprise Carriston jumped up hastily and snatched it from me. "They +are too bad to look at," he said. As I struggled to regain possession, +sundry strings broke, and, lo and behold! the floor was littered, +not with delineations of rock, lake, and torrent, but with images of +the young girl I had seen a few minutes before. Full face, profile, +three quarter face, five, even seven eight face, all were there--each +study perfectly executed by Carriston's clever pencil. I threw myself +into a chair and laughed aloud, whilst the young man, blushing and +discomforted, quickly huddled the portraits between the covers, just as +a genuine Scotch lassie bore in the plentiful and, to me, very welcome +breakfast. + +Carriston did favor me with his company during the whole of that day; +but, in spite of my having come to Scotland to enjoy his society, that +day, from easily-guessed reasons, was the only one in which I had +undisputed possession of my friend. + +Of course I bantered him a great deal on the portfolio episode. He took +it in good part, attempting little or no defence. Indeed, before night +he had told me, with all a boy's fervor, how he had loved Madeline Rowan +at first sight, how in the short space of time which had elapsed since +that meeting he had wooed her and won her; how good and beautiful she +was; how he worshipped her; how happy he felt; how, when I went south, +he should accompany me; and, after making a few necessary arrangements, +return at once and bear his bride away. + +I could only listen to him, and congratulate him. It was not my place to +act the elder, and advise him either for or against the marriage. +Carriston had only himself to please, and, if he made a rash step, only +himself to blame for the consequences. And why should I have dissuaded? +I who, in two days, envied the boy's good fortune. + +I saw a great deal of Madeline Rowan. How strange and out-of-place her +name and face seemed amid our surroundings. If at first somewhat shy and +retiring, she soon, if only for Carriston's sake, consented to look upon +me as a friend, and talked to me freely and unreservedly. Then I found +that her nature was as sweet as her face. Such a conquest did she make +of me that, save for one chimerical reason, I should have felt quite +certain that Carriston had chosen well, and would be happy in wedding +the girl of his choice, heedless of her humble position in the world, +and absence of fitting wealth. When once his wife, I felt sure that +if he cared for her to win social success her looks and bearing would +insure it, and from the great improvement which, as I have already said, +I noticed in his health and spirits, I believed that his marriage would +make his life longer, happier, and better. + +Now for my objection, which seems almost a laughable one. I objected on +the score of the extraordinary resemblance which, so far as a man may +resemble a woman, existed between Charles Carriston and Madeline Rowan. +The more I saw them together, the more I was struck by it. A stranger +might well have taken them for twin brother and sister. The same +delicate features, drawn in the same lines; the same soft, dark, dreamy +eyes; even the same shaped heads. Comparing the two, it needed no +phrenologist or physiognomist to tell you that where one excelled the +other excelled; where one failed, the other was wanting. Now, could I +have selected a wife for my friend, I would have chosen one with habits +and constitution entirely different from his own. She should have been a +bright, bustling woman, with lots of energy and common-sense--one +who would have rattled him about and kept him going--not a lovely, +dark-eyed, dreamy girl, who could for hours at a stretch make herself +supremely happy if only sitting at her lover's feet and speaking no +word. Yet they were a handsome couple, and never have I seen two people +so utterly devoted to each other as those two seemed to be during those +autumn days which I spent with them. + +I soon had a clear proof of the closeness of their mental resemblance. +One evening Carriston, Madeline, and I were sitting out-of-doors, +watching the gray mist deepening in the valley at our feet. Two of the +party were, of course, hand-in-hand, the third seated at a discreet +distance--not so far away as to preclude conversation, but far enough +off to be able to pretend that he saw and heard only what was intended +for his eyes and ears. + +How certain topics, which I would have avoided discussing with +Carriston, were started I hardly remember. Probably some strange +tale had been passed down from wilder and even more solitary regions +than ours--some ridiculous tale of Highland superstition, no doubt +embellished and augmented by each one who repeated it to his fellows. +From her awed talk I soon found that Madeline Rowan, perhaps by reason +of the Scotch blood in her veins, was as firm a believer in things +visionary and beyond nature as ever Charles Carriston in his silliest +moments could be. As soon as I could I stopped the talk, and the next +day, finding the girl for a few minutes alone, told her plainly that +subjects of this kind should be kept as far as possible from her future +husband's thoughts. She promised obedience, with dreamy eyes which +looked as far away and full of visions as Carriston's. + +"By the by," I said, "has he ever spoken to you about seeing strange +things?" + +"Yes; he has hinted at it." + +"And you believe him?" + +"Of course I do; he told me so." + +This was unanswerable. "A pretty pair they will make," I muttered, as +Madeline slipped from me to welcome her lover who was approaching. "They +will see ghosts in every corner, and goblins behind every curtain." + +Nevertheless, the young people had no doubts about their coming bliss. +Everything was going smoothly and pleasantly for them. Carriston had at +once spoken to Madeline's aunt, and obtained the old Scotchwoman's ready +consent to their union. I was rather vexed at his still keeping to his +absurd whim, and concealing his true name. He said he was afraid of +alarming her aunt by telling her he was passing under an _alias_, whilst +if he gave Madeline his true reason for so doing she would be miserable. +Moreover, I found he had formed the romantic plan of marrying her +without telling her in what an enviable position she would be placed +so far as worldly gear went. A kind of Lord Burleigh surprise no doubt +commended itself to his imaginative brain. + +The last day of my holiday came. I bade a long and sad farewell to lake +and mountain, and, accompanied by Carriston, started for home. I did not +see the parting proper between the young people--that was far too sacred +a thing to be intruded upon--but even when that protracted affair was +over, I waited many, many minutes whilst Carriston stood hand-in-hand +with Madeline, comforting himself and her by reiterating "Only six +weeks--six short weeks! And then--and then!" It was the girl who at last +tore herself away, and then Carriston mounted reluctantly by my side on +the rough vehicle. + +From Edinburgh we travelled by the night train. The greater part of the +way we had the compartment to ourselves. Carriston, as a lover will, +talked of nothing but coming bliss and his plans for the future. After +a while I grew quite weary of the monotony of the subject, and at last +dozed off, and for some little time slept. The shrill whistle which told +us a tunnel was at hand aroused me. My companion was sitting opposite to +me, and as I glanced across at him my attention was arrested by the same +strange intense look which I had on a previous occasion at Bettws-y-Coed +noticed in his eyes--the same fixed stare--the same obliviousness to +all that was passing. Remembering his request, I shook him, somewhat +roughly, back to his senses. He regarded me for a moment vacantly, then +said: + +"Now I have found out what was wanting to make the power I told you of +complete. I could see her if I wished." + +"Of course you can see her--in your mind's eye. All lovers can do that." + +"If I tried I could see her bodily--know exactly what she is doing." He +spoke with an air of complete conviction. + +"Then I hope, for the sake of modesty, you won't try. It is now nearly +three o'clock. She ought to be in bed and asleep." + +I spoke lightly, thinking it better to try and laugh him out of his +folly. He took no notice of my sorry joke. + +"No," he said, quietly, "I am not going to try. But I know now what +was wanting. Love--such love as mine--such love as hers--makes the +connecting link, and enables sight or some other sense to cross over +space, and pass through every material obstacle." + +"Look here, Carriston," I said seriously, "you are talking as a madman +talks. I don't want to frighten you, but I am bound both as a doctor +and your sincere friend to tell you that unless you cure yourself of +these absurd delusions they will grow upon you, develop fresh forms, and +you will probably end your days under restraint. Ask any doctor, he will +tell you the same." + +"Doctors are a clever race," answered my strange young friend, "but they +don't know everything." + +So saying he closed his eyes and appeared to sleep. + +We parted upon reaching London. Many kind words and wishes passed +between us, and I gave him some well-meant, and, I believed, needed +warnings. He was going down to see his uncle, the baronet. Then he had +some matters to arrange with his lawyers, and above all, had to select +a residence for himself and his wife. He would, no doubt, be in London +for a short time. If possible he would come and see me. Any way he would +write and let me know the exact date of his approaching marriage. If I +could manage to come to it, so much the better. If not he would try, +as they passed through town, to bring his bride to pay me a flying and +friendly visit. He left me in the best of spirits, and I went back to my +patients and worked hard to make up lost ground, and counteract whatever +errors had been committed by my substitute. + +Some six weeks afterward--late at night--whilst I was deep in a new and +clever treatise on zymotics, a man, haggard, wild, unshorn, and unkempt, +rushed past my startled servant, and entered the room in which I sat. +He threw himself into a chair, and I was horrified to recognize in the +intruder my clever and brilliant friend, Charles Carriston! + + +V. + +"The end has come sooner than I expected." These were the sad words I +muttered to myself as waving my frightened servant away I closed the +door, and stood alone with the supposed maniac. He rose and wrung my +hand, then without a word sank back into his chair and buried his face +in his hands. A sort of nervous trembling seemed to run through his +frame. Deeply distressed I drew his hands from his face. + +"Now, Carriston," I said, as firmly as I could, "look up, and tell me +what all this means. Look up, I say, man, and speak to me." + +He raised his eyes to mine, and kept them there, whilst a ghastly +smile--a phantom humor--flickered across his white face. No doubt his +native quickness told him what I suspected, so he looked me full and +steadily in the face. + +"No," he said, "not as you think. But let there be no mistake. Question +me. Talk to me. Put me to any test. Satisfy yourself, once for all, that +I am as sane as you are." + +He spoke so rationally, his eyes met mine so unflinchingly, that I was +rejoiced to know that my fears were as yet ungrounded. There was grief, +excitement, want of rest in his appearance, but his general manner told +me he was, as he said, as sane as I was. + +"Thank heaven you can speak to me and look at me like this," I +exclaimed. + +"You are satisfied then?" he said. + +"On this point, yes. Now tell me what is wrong?" + +Now that he had set my doubts at rest his agitation and excitement +seemed to return. He grasped my hand convulsively. + +"Madeline!" he whispered; "Madeline--my love--she is gone." + +"Gone!" I repeated. "Gone where?" + +"She is gone, I say--stolen from me by some black-hearted +traitor--perhaps forever. Who can tell?" + +"But, Carriston, surely, in so short a time her love cannot have been +won by another. If so, all I can say is--" + +"What!" he shouted. "You have seen her! You in your wildest dreams to +imagine that Madeline Rowan would leave me of her own free-will! No, +sir; she has been stolen from me--entrapped--carried away--hidden. But +I will find her, or I will kill the black-hearted villain who has done +this." + +He rose and paced the room. His face was distorted with rage. He +clinched and unclinched his long slender hands. + +"My dear fellow," I said; "you are talking riddles. Sit down and tell me +calmly what has happened. But, first of all, as you look utterly worn +out, I will ring for my man to get you some food." + +"No," he said; "I want nothing. Weary I am, for I have been to Scotland +and back as fast as man can travel. I reached London a short time ago, +and after seeing one man have come straight to you, my only friend, +for help--it may be for protection. But I have eaten and I have drank, +knowing I must keep my health and strength." + +However, I insisted on some wine being brought. He drank a glass, and +then with a strange enforced calm, told me what had taken place. His +tale was this: + +After we had parted company on our return from Scotland, Carriston went +down to the family seat in Oxfordshire, and informed his uncle of the +impending change in his life. The baronet, an extremely old man, infirm +and all but childish, troubled little about the matter. Every acre of +his large property was strictly entailed, so his pleasure or displeasure +could make but little alteration in his nephew's prospects. Still, he +was the head of the family, and Carriston was in duty bound to make +the important news known to him. The young man made no secret of his +approaching marriage, so in a very short time every member of the family +was aware that the heir and future head was about to ally himself to +a nobody. Knowing nothing of Madeline Rowan's rare beauty and sweet +nature Carriston's kinsmen and kinswomen were sparing with their +congratulations. Indeed, Mr. Ralph Carriston, the cousin whose name was +coupled with such absurd suspicions, went so far as to write a bitter, +sarcastic letter, full of ironical felicitations. This, and Charles +Carriston's haughty reply, did not make the affection between the +cousins any stronger. Moreover, shortly afterward the younger man heard +that inquiries were being made in the neighborhood of Madeline's home as +to her position and parentage. Feeling sure that only his cousin Ralph +could have had the curiosity to institute such inquiries, he wrote and +thanked him for the keen interest he was manifesting in his future +welfare, but begged that hereafter Mr. Carriston would apply to him +direct for any information he wanted. The two men were now no longer on +speaking terms. + +Charles Carriston in his present frame of mind cared little whether his +relatives wished to bless or forbid the banns. He was passionately in +love, and at once set about making arrangements for a speedy marriage. +Although Madeline was still ignorant of the exalted position held by her +lover--although she came to him absolutely penniless--he was resolved in +the matter of money to treat her as generously as he would have treated +the most eligible damsel in the country. There were several legal +questions to be set at rest concerning certain property he wished to +settle upon her. This of course caused delay. As soon as they were +adjusted to his own, or rather to his lawyer's satisfaction, he purposed +going to Scotland and carrying away his beautiful bride. In the meantime +he cast about for a residence. + +Somewhat Bohemian in his nature, Carriston had no intention of settling +down just yet to live the life of an ordinary moneyed Englishman. His +intention was to take Madeline abroad for some months. He had fixed +upon Cannes as a desirable place at which to winter, but having grown +somewhat tired of hotel life, wished to rent a furnished house. He had +received from an agent to whom he had been advised to apply the refusal +of a house, which, from the glowing description given, seemed the one +above all others he wanted. As an early decision was insisted upon, +my impulsive young friend thought nothing of crossing the Channel and +running down to the south of France to see, with his own eyes, that +the much-lauded place was worthy of the fair being who was to be its +temporary mistress. + +He wrote to Madeline, and told her he was going from home for a few +days. He said he should be travelling the greater part of the time, so +it should be no use her writing to him until his return. He did not +reveal the object of his journey. Were Madeline to know it was to choose +a winter residence at Cannes she would be filled with amazement, and the +innocent deception he was still keeping up would not be carried through +to the romantic end which he pictured to himself. + +The day before he started for France Madeline wrote that her aunt was +very unwell, but said nothing as to her malady causing any alarm. +Perhaps Carriston thought less about the old Scotch widow than her +relationship and kindness to Miss Rowan merited. He started on his +travels without any forebodings of evil. + +His journey to Cannes and back was hurried; he wasted no time on the +road, but was delayed for two days at the place itself before he could +make final arrangements with the owner and the present occupier of the +house. Thinking he was going to start every moment, he did not write to +Madeline--at the rate at which he meant to return, a letter posted in +England would reach her almost as quickly as if posted at Cannes. + +He reached his home, which for the last few weeks had been Oxford, and +found two letters waiting for him. The first, dated on the day he left +England, was from Madeline. It told him that her aunt's illness had +suddenly taken a fatal turn--that she had died that day, almost without +warning. The second letter was anonymous. + +It was written apparently by a woman, and advised Mr. Carr to look +sharply after his lady-love or he would find himself left in the lurch. +The writer would not be surprised to hear some fine day that she had +eloped with a certain gentleman who should be nameless. This precious +epistle, probably an emanation of feminine spite, Carriston treated as +it deserved--he tore it up and threw the pieces to the wind. + +But the thought of Madeline being alone at that lonely house troubled +him greatly. The dead woman had no sons or daughters; all the anxiety +and responsibility connected with her affairs would fall on the poor +girl. The next day he threw himself into the Scotch Express and started +for her far-away home. + +On arriving there he found it occupied only by the rough farm servants. +They seemed in a state of wonderment, and volubly questioned Carriston +as to the whereabouts of Madeline. The question sent a chill of fear to +his heart. He answered their questions by others, and soon learned all +they had to communicate. + +Little enough it was. On the morning after the old woman's funeral +Madeline had gone to Callendar to ask the advice of an old friend of her +aunt's as to what steps should now be taken. She had neither been to +this friend, nor had she returned home. She had, however, sent a message +that she must go to London at once, and would write from there. That was +the last heard of her--all that was known about her. + +Upon hearing this news Carriston became a prey to the acutest terror--an +emotion which was quite inexplicable to the honest people, his +informants. The girl had gone, but she had sent word whither she had +gone. True, they did not know the reason for her departure, so sudden +and without luggage of any description; true, she had not written as +promised, but no doubt they would hear from her to-morrow. Carriston +knew better. Without revealing the extent of his fears he flew back to +Callendar. Inquiries at the railway station informed him that she had +gone, or had purposed going, to London; but whether she ever reached it, +or whether any trace of her could be found there, was at least a matter +of doubt. No good could be gained by remaining in Scotland, so he +travelled back at once to town, half-distracted, sleepless, and racking +his brain to know where to look for her. + +"She has been decoyed away," he said in conclusion. "She is hidden, +imprisoned somewhere. And I know, as well as if he told me, who has done +this thing. I can trace Ralph Carriston's cursed hand through it all." + +I glanced at him askance. This morbid suspicion of his cousin amounted +almost to monomania. He had told the tale of Madeline's disappearance +clearly and tersely; but when he began to account for it his theory was +a wild and untenable one. However much he suspected Ralph Carriston of +longing to stand in his shoes, I could see no object for the crime of +which he accused him, that of decoying away Madeline Rowan. + +"But why should he have done this?" I asked. "To prevent your marriage? +You are young; he must have foreseen that you would marry some day." + +Carriston leaned toward me, and dropped his voice to a whisper. + +"This is his reason," he said; "this is why I come to you. You are not +the only one who has entirely misread my nature, and seen a strong +tendency to insanity in it. Of course I know that you are all wrong, but +I know that Ralph Carriston has stolen my love--stolen her because he +thinks and hopes that her loss will drive me mad--perhaps drive me to +kill myself. I went straight to him--I have just come from him. Brand, +I tell you that when I taxed him with the crime--when I raved at +him--when I threatened to tear the life out of him--his cold, wicked +eyes leaped with joy. I heard him mutter between his teeth, 'Men have +been put in strait-waistcoats for less than this.' Then I knew why he +had done this. I curbed myself and left him. Most likely he will try to +shut me up as a lunatic; but I count upon your protection--count upon +your help to find my love." + +That any man could be guilty of such a subtle refinement of crime as +that of which he accused his cousin seemed to me, if not impossible, at +least improbable. But as at present there was no doubt about my friend's +sanity I promised my aid readily. + +"And now," I said, "my dear boy, I won't hear another word to-night. +Nothing can be done until to-morrow; then we will consult as to what +steps should be taken. Drink this and go to bed; yes, you are as sane as +I am, but, remember, insomnia soon drives the strongest man out of his +senses." + +I poured out an opiate. He drank it obediently. Before I left him for +the night I saw him in bed and sleeping a heavy sleep. + + +VI. + +The advantage to one who writes, not a tale of imagination, but a simple +record of events, is this: He need not be bound by the recognized canons +of the story-telling art--need not exercise his ingenuity to mislead his +reader--need not suppress some things and lay undue stress on others to +create mysteries to be cleared up at the end of the tale. Therefore, +using the privilege of a plain narrator, I shall here give some account +of what became of Miss Rowan, as, so far as I can remember, I heard it +some time afterward from her own lips. + +The old Scotchwoman's funeral over, and those friends who had been +present departed, Madeline was left in the little farm-house alone, save +for the presence of the two servants. Several kind bodies had offered to +come and stay with her, but she had declined the offers. She was in no +mood for company, and perhaps being of such a different race and breed, +would not have found much comfort in the rough homely sympathy which was +offered to her. She preferred being alone with her grief--grief which +after all was bound to be much lightened by the thought of her own +approaching happiness, for the day was drawing near when her lover would +cross the border and bear his bonny bride away. She felt sure that she +would not be long alone--that the moment Carriston heard of her aunt's +death he would come to her assistance. In such a peaceful, God-fearing +neighborhood she had no fear of being left without protection. Moreover, +her position in the house was well-defined. The old woman, who was +childless, had left her niece all of which she died possessed. So +Madeline decided to wait quietly until she heard from her lover. + +Still there were business matters to be attended to, and at the funeral +Mr. Douglas, of Callendar, the executor under the will, had suggested +that an early interview would be desirable. He offered to drive out to +the little farm the next day, but Miss Rowan, who had to see to some +feminine necessaries which could only be supplied by shops, decided that +she would come to the town instead of troubling Mr. Douglas to drive so +far out. + +Madeline, in spite of the superstitious element in her character, was +a brave girl, and in spite of her refined style of beauty, strong and +healthy. Early hours were the rule in that humble home, so before seven +o'clock in the morning she was ready to start on her drive to the little +town. At first she thought of taking with her the boy who did the rough +out-door work; but he was busy about something or other, and besides, +was a garrulous lad who would be certain to chatter the whole way, +and this morning Miss Rowan wanted no companions save her own mingled +thoughts of sadness and joy. She knew every inch of the road; she feared +no evil; she would be home again long before nightfall; the pony was +quiet and sure-footed--so away went Madeline in the strong primitive +vehicle on her lonely twelve miles' drive through the fair scenery. + +She passed few people on the road. Indeed, she remembered meeting no one +except one or two pedestrian tourists, who like sensible men were doing +a portion of their day's task in the early morning. I have no doubt but +Miss Rowan seemed to them a passing vision of loveliness. + +But when she was a mile or two from Callendar, she saw a boy on a pony. +The boy, who must have known her by sight, stopped and handed her a +telegram. She had to pay several shillings for the delivery, or intended +delivery of the message, so far from the station. The boy galloped away, +congratulating himself on having been spared a long ride, and Miss Rowan +tore open the envelope left in her hands. + +The message was brief: "Mr. Carr is seriously ill. Come at once. You +will be met in London." + +Madeline did not scream or faint. She gave one low moan of pain, set her +teeth, and with the face of one in a dream drove as quickly as she could +to Callendar, straight to the railway station. + +Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, she had money with her, so she did +not waste time in going to Mr. Douglas. In spite of the crushing blow +she had received the girl had all her wits about her. A train would +start in ten minutes' time. She took her ticket, then found an idler +outside the station, and paid him to take the pony and carriage back to +the farm, with the message as repeated to Carriston. + +The journey passed like a long dream. The girl could think of nothing +but her lover, dying, dying--perhaps dead before she could reach him. +The miles flew by unnoticed; twilight crept on; the carriage grew dark; +at last--London at last! Miss Rowan stepped out on the broad platform, +not knowing what to do or where to turn. Presently a tall well-dressed +man came up to her, and removing his hat, addressed her by name. The +promise as to her being met had been kept. + +She clasped her hands. "Tell me--oh tell me, he is not dead," she cried. + +"Mr. Carr is not dead. He is ill, very ill--delirious and calling for +you." + +"Where is he? Oh take me to him!" + +"He is miles and miles from here--at a friend's house. I have been +deputed to meet you and to accompany you, if you feel strong enough to +continue the journey at once." + +"Come," said Madeline. "Take me to him." + +"Your luggage?" asked the gentleman. + +"I have none. Come!" + +"You must take some refreshment." + +"I need nothing. Come!" + +The gentleman glanced at his watch. "There is just time," he said. He +called a cab, told the driver to go at top speed. They reached +Paddington just in time to catch the mail. + +During the drive across London Madeline asked many questions, and +learned from her companion that Mr. Carr had been staying for a day or +two at a friend's house in the west of England. That yesterday he had +fallen from his horse and sustained such injuries that his life was +despaired of. He had been continually calling for Madeline. They +had found her address on a letter, and had telegraphed as soon as +possible--for which act Miss Rowan thanked her companion with tears in +her eyes. + +Her conductor did not say much of his own accord, but in replying to her +questions he was politely sympathetic. She thought of little outside the +fearful picture which filled every corner of her brain, but from her +conductor's manner received the impression that he was a medical adviser +who had seen the sufferer, and assisted in the treatment of the case. +She did not ask his name, nor did he reveal it. + +At Paddington he placed her in a ladies' carriage and left her. + +He was a smoker, he said. She wondered somewhat at this desertion. Then +the train sped down West. At the large stations the gentleman came to +her and offered her refreshments. Hunger seemed to have left her; but +she accepted a cup of tea once or twice. At last sorrow, fatigue, and +weakness produced by such a prolonged fast had their natural effect. +With the tears still on her lashes the girl fell asleep, and must have +slept for many miles: a sleep unbroken by stoppages at stations. + +Her conductor at last aroused her. He stood at the door of the carriage. +"We must get out here," he said. All the momentarily-forgotten anguish +came back to her as she stood beside him on the almost unoccupied +platform. + +"Are we there at last?" she asked. + +"I am sorry to say we have still a long drive; would you like to rest +first?" + +"No--no. Come on, if you please." She spoke with feverish eagerness. + +The man bowed. "A carriage waits," he said. + +Outside the station was a carriage of some sort, drawn by one horse, and +driven by a man muffled up to the eyes. It was still night, but Madeline +fancied dawn could not be far off. Her conductor opened the door of the +carriage and waited for her to enter. + +She paused. "Ask him--that man must know if--" + +"I am most remiss," said the gentleman. He exchanged a few words with +the driver, and coming back, told Madeline that Mr. Carr was still +alive, sensible, and expecting her eagerly. + +"Oh, please, please drive fast," said the poor girl, springing into the +carriage. The gentleman seated himself beside her, and for a long time +they drove on in silence. At last they stopped. The dawn was just +glimmering. They alighted in front of a house. The door was open. +Madeline entered swiftly. "Which way--which way?" she asked. She was +too agitated to notice any surroundings; her one wish was to reach her +lover. + +"Allow me," said the conductor, passing her. "This way; please follow +me." He went up a short flight of stairs, then paused, and opened a +door quietly. He stood aside for the girl to enter. The room was dimly +lit, and contained a bed with drawn curtains. Madeline flew past her +travelling companion, and as she threw herself on her knees beside the +bed upon which she expected to see the helpless and shattered form of +the man she loved, heard, or fancied she heard, the door locked behind +her. + + +VII. + +Carriston slept on late into the next day. Knowing that every moment +of bodily and mental rest was a precious boon to him, I left him +undisturbed. He was still fast asleep when, about mid-day, a gentleman +called upon me. He sent up no card, and I supposed he came to consult +me professionally. + +The moment he entered my room I recognized him. He was the thin-lipped, +gentlemanly person whom I had met on my journey to Bournemouth last +spring--the man who had seemed so much impressed by my views on +insanity, and had manifested such interest in the description I had +given--without mentioning any name--of Carriston's peculiar mind. + +I should have at once claimed acquaintanceship with my visitor, but +before I could speak he advanced, and apologized gracefully for his +intrusion. + +"You will forgive it," he added, "when I tell you my name is Ralph +Carriston." + +Remembering our chance conversation, the thought that, after all, +Charles Carriston's wild suspicion was well-founded, flashed through me +like lightning. My great hope was that my visitor might not remember my +face as I remembered his. I bowed coldly but said nothing. + +"I believe, Dr. Brand," he continued, "you have a young relative of mine +at present staying with you?" + +"Yes, Mr. Carriston is my guest," I answered. "We are old friends." + +"Ah, I did not know that. I do not remember having heard him mention +your name as a friend. But as it is so, no one knows better than +you do the unfortunate state of his health. How do you find him +to-day--violent?" + +I pretended to ignore the man's meaning, and answered smilingly, +"Violence is the last thing I should look for. He is tired out and +exhausted by travel, and is in great distress. That, I believe, is the +whole of his complaint." + +"Yes, yes; to be sure, poor boy! His sweetheart has left him, or +something. But as a doctor you must know that his mental condition is +not quite what it should be. His friends are very anxious about him. +They fear that a little restraint--temporary, I hope--must be put upon +his actions. I called to ask your advice and aid." + +"In what, Mr. Carriston?" + +"In this. A young man can't be left free to go about threatening his +friends' lives. I have brought Dr. Daley with me; you know him, of +course. He is below in my carriage. I will call him up, with your +permission. He could then see poor Charles, and the needful certificate +could be signed by you two doctors." + +"Mr. Carriston," I said decidedly, "let me tell you in the plainest +words that your cousin is at present as fully in possession of his wits +as you are. Dr. Daley, whoever he may be, could sign no certificate, and +in our day no asylum would dare to keep Mr. Carriston within its walls." + +An unpleasant sinister look crossed my listener's face, but his voice +still remained bland and suave. "I am sorry to differ from you, Dr. +Brand," he said, "but I know him better than you do. I have seen him as +you have never yet seen him. Only last night he came to me in a frantic +state. I expected every moment he would make a murderous attack on me." + +"Perhaps he fancied he had some reasons for anger," I said. + +Ralph Carriston looked at me with those cold eyes of which his cousin +had spoken. "If the boy has succeeded in converting you to any of his +delusions I can only say that doctors are more credulous than I fancied. +But the question is not worth arguing. You decline to assist me, so I +must do without you. Good-morning, Dr. Brand." + +He left the room as gracefully as he had entered it. I remained in a +state of doubt. It was curious that Ralph Carriston turned out to be +the man whom I had met in the train; but the evidence offered by the +coincidence was not enough to convict him of the crime of endeavoring to +drive his cousin mad by such a far-fetched stratagem as the inveigling +away of Madeline Rowan. Besides, even in wishing to prove Charles +Carriston mad he had much to say on his side. Supposing him to be +innocent of having abducted Madeline, Carriston's violent behavior on +the preceding evening must have seemed very much like insanity. In +spite of the aversion with which Ralph Carriston inspired me, I scarcely +knew which side to believe. + +Carriston still slept; so when I went out on my afternoon rounds I left +a note, begging him to remain in the house until my return. Then I found +him up, dressed, and looking much more like himself. When I entered, +dinner was on the table; so not until that meal was over could we talk +unrestrainedly upon the subject which was uppermost in both our minds. + +As soon as we were alone I turned toward my guest. "And now," I said, +"we must settle what to do. There seems to me to be but one course open. +You have plenty of money, so your best plan is to engage skilled police +assistance. Young ladies can't be spirited away like this without +leaving a trace." + +To my surprise Carriston flatly objected to this course. "No," he said, +"I shall not go to the police. The man who took her away has placed her +where no police can find her. I must find her myself." + +"Find her yourself! Why, it may be months, years, before you do that! +Good heavens, Carriston! She may be murdered, or worse--" + +"I shall know if any further evil happens to her--then I shall kill +Ralph Carriston." + +"But you tell me you have no clew whatever to trace her by. Do talk +plainly. Tell me all or nothing." + +Carriston smiled very faintly. "No clew that you, at any rate, will +believe in," he said. "But I know this much, she is a prisoner +somewhere. She is unhappy, but not, as yet, ill-treated. Heavens! do +you think if I did not know this I should keep my senses for an hour?" + +"How can you possibly know it?" + +"By that gift--that extra sense or whatever it is--which you deride. I +knew it would come to me some day, but I little thought how I should +welcome it. I know that in some way I shall find her by it. I tell you +I have already seen her three times. I may see her again at any moment +when the strange fit comes over me." + +All this fantastic nonsense was spoken so simply and with such an air of +conviction that once more my suspicions as to the state of his mind were +aroused. In spite of the brave answers which I had given Mr. Ralph +Carriston, I felt that common-sense was undeniably on his side. + +"Tell me what you mean by your strange fit," I said, resolved to find +out the nature of Carriston's fancies or hallucinations. "Is it a kind +of trance you fall into?" + +He seemed loath to give any information on the subject, but I pressed +him for an answer. + +"Yes," he said at last. "It must be a kind of trance. An indescribable +feeling comes over me. I know that my eyes are fixed on some +object--presently that object vanishes, and I see Madeline." + +"How do you see her?" + +"She seems to stand in a blurred circle of light as cast by a magic +lantern. That is the only way that I can describe it. But her figure +is plain and clear--she might be close to me. The carpet on which she +stands I can see, the chair on which she sits, the table on which she +leans her hand, anything she touches I can see; but no more. I have +seen her talking. I knew she was entreating some one, but that some one +was invisible. Yet, if she touched that person, the virtue of her touch +would enable me to see him." + +So far as I could see, Carriston's case appeared to be one of +over-wrought, or unduly-stimulated imagination. His I had always +considered to be a mind of the most peculiar construction. In his +present state of love, grief, and suspense these hallucinations might +come in the same way in which dreams come. For a little while I sat +in silence, considering how I could best combat with and dispel his +remarkable delusions. Before I had arrived at any decision I was called +away to see a patient. I was but a short time engaged. Then I returned +to Carriston, intending to continue my inquiries. + +Upon re-entering the room I found him sitting, as I had left +him--directly opposite to the door. His face was turned fully toward +me, and I trembled as I caught sight of it. He was leaning forward; his +hands on the table-cloth, his whole frame rigid, his eyes staring in one +direction, yet, I knew, capable of seeing nothing that I could see. He +seemed even oblivious to sound, for I entered the room and closed the +door behind me without causing him to change look or position. The +moment I saw the man I knew that he had been overtaken by what he called +the strange fit. + +My first impulse--a natural one--was to arouse him; but second thoughts +told me that this was an opportunity for studying his disease which +should not be lost--I felt that I could call it by no other name +than disease--so I proceeded to make a systematic examination of his +symptoms. + +I leaned across the table; and, with my face about a foot from his, +looked straight into his eyes. They betrayed no sign of recognition--no +knowledge of my presence. I am ashamed to say I could not divest myself +of the impression that they were looking through me. The pupils were +greatly dilated. The lids were wide apart. I lighted a taper and held it +before them, but could see no expansion of the iris. It was a case, I +confess, entirely beyond my comprehension. I had no experience which +might serve as a guide as to what was the best course to adopt. All I +could do was to stand and watch carefully for any change. + +Save for his regular breathing and a sort of convulsive twitching of his +fingers, Carriston might have been a corpse or a statue. His face could +scarcely grow paler than it had been before the attack. Altogether, it +was an uncomfortable sight: a creepy sight--this motionless man, utterly +regardless of all that went on around him, and seeing, or giving one the +idea that he saw something far away. I sighed as I looked at the strange +spectacle, and foresaw what the end must surely be. But although I +longed for him to awake, I determined on this occasion to let the +trance, or fit, run its full course, that I might notice in what manner +and how soon consciousness returned. + +I must have waited and watched some ten minutes--minutes which seemed to +me interminable. At last I saw the lips quiver, the lids flicker once or +twice, and eventually close wearily over the eyes. The unnatural tension +of every muscle seemed to relax, and, sighing deeply, and apparently +quite exhausted, Carriston sank back into his chair with beads of +perspiration forming on his white brow. The fit was over. + +In a moment I was at his side and forcing a glass of wine down his +throat. He looked up at me and spoke. His voice was faint, but his words +were quite collected. + +"I have seen her again," he said. "She is well; but so unhappy. I saw +her kneel down and pray. She stretched her beautiful arms out to me. And +yet I know not where to look for her--my poor love! my poor love!" + +I waited until I thought he had sufficiently recovered from his +exhaustion to talk without injurious consequences. "Carriston," I said, +"let me ask you one question: Are these trances or visions voluntary or +not?" + +He reflected for a few moments. "I can't quite tell you," he said; "or, +rather, I would put in this way. I do not think I can exercise my power +at will; but I can feel when the fit is coming on me, and, I believe, +can if I choose stop myself from yielding to it." + +"Very well. Now listen. Promise me you will fight against these seizures +as much as you can. If you don't you will be raving mad in a month." + +"I can't promise that," said Carriston, quietly. "See her at times I +must, or I shall die. But I promise to yield as seldom as may be. I +know, as well as you do, that the very exhaustion I now feel must be +injurious to any one." + +In truth, he looked utterly worn out. Very much dissatisfied with his +concession, the best I could get from him, I sent him to bed, knowing +that natural rest, if he could get it, would do more than anything else +toward restoring a healthy tone to his mind. + + +VIII. + +Although Carriston stated that he came to me for aid, and, it may be, +for protection, he manifested the greatest reluctance in following +any advice I offered him. The obstinacy of his refusal to obtain the +assistance of the police placed me in a predicament. That Madeline Rowan +had really disappeared I was, of course, compelled to believe. It might +even be possible that she was kept against her will in some place of +concealment. In such a case it behooved us to take proper steps to trace +her. Her welfare should not depend upon the hallucinations and eccentric +ideas of a man half out of his senses with love and grief. I all but +resolved, even at the risk of forfeiting Carriston's friendship, to put +the whole matter in the hands of the police, unless in the course of a +day or two we heard from the girl herself, or Carriston suggested some +better plan. + +Curiously enough, although refusing to be guided by me, he made no +suggestion on his own account. He was racked by fear and suspense, yet +his only idea of solving difficulties seemed to be that of waiting. He +did nothing. He simply waited, as if he expected that chance would bring +what he should have been searching for high and low. + +Some days passed before I could get a tardy consent that aid should be +sought. Even then he would not go to the proper quarter; but he allowed +me to summon to our councils a man who advertised himself as being a +private detective. This man, or one of his men, came at our call, and +heard what was wanted of him. Carriston reluctantly gave him one of +Madeline's photographs. He also told him that only by watching and +spying on Ralph Carriston's every action could he hope to obtain the +clew. I did not much like the course adopted, nor did I like the look of +the man to whom the inquiry was intrusted; but at any rate something was +being done. + +A week passed without any news from our agent. Carriston, in truth, did +not seem to expect any. I believe he only employed the man in deference +to my wishes. He moved about the house in a disconsolate fashion. I had +not told him of my interview with his cousin, but had cautioned him on +the rare occasions upon which he went out of doors to avoid speaking to +strangers, and my servants had strict instructions to prevent any one +coming in and taking my guest by surprise. + +For I had during those days opened a confidential inquiry on my own +account. I wanted to learn something about this Mr. Ralph Carriston. So +I asked a man who knew everybody to find out all about him. + +He reported that Ralph Carriston was a man well known about London. He +was married and had a house in Dorsetshire; but the greater part of his +time was spent in town. Once he was supposed to be well-off; but now it +was the general opinion that every acre he owned was mortgaged, and that +he was much pressed for money. "But," my informant said, "there is but +one life between him and the reversion to large estates, and that life +is a poor one. I believe even now there is talk about the man who stands +in his way being mad. If so, Ralph Carriston will get the management of +everything." + +After this news I felt it more than ever needful to keep a watchful +eye on my friend. So far as I knew there had been no recurrence of +the trance, and I began to hope that proper treatment would effect a +complete cure, when, to my great alarm and annoyance, Carriston, while +sitting with me, suddenly and without warning fell into the same strange +state of body and mind as previously described. This time he was sitting +in another part of the room. After watching him for a minute or two, and +just as I was making up my mind to arouse him and scold him thoroughly +for his folly, he sprung to his feet, and shouting, "Let her go! Loose +her, I say!" rushed violently across the room--so violently, that I had +barely time to interpose and prevent him from coming into contact with +the opposite wall. + +Upon returning to his senses he told me, with great excitement, that +he had again seen Madeline; moreover, this time he had seen a man with +her--a man who had placed his hand upon her wrist and kept it there; and +so, according to Carriston's wild reasoning, became, on account of the +contact, visible to him. + +He told me he had watched them for some moments, until the man, +tightening his grip on the girl's arm, endeavored, he thought, to lead +her or induce her to follow him somewhere. At this juncture, unaware +that he was gazing at a vision, he had rushed to her assistance in the +frantic way I have described--then he awoke. + +He also told me he had studied the man's features and general appearance +most carefully with a view to future recognition. All these ridiculous +statements were made as he made the former ones, with the air of one +relating simple, undeniable facts--one speaking the plain, unvarnished +truth, and expecting full credence to be given to his words. + +It was too absurd! too sad! It was evident to me that the barrier +between his hallucinations, dreams, visions, or what he chose to call +them, and pure insanity, was now a very slight and fragile one. But +before I gave up his case as hopeless I determined to make another +strong appeal to his common-sense. I told him of his cousin's visit to +me--of his intentions and proposition. I begged him to consider what +consequences his extraordinary beliefs and extravagant actions must +eventually entail. He listened attentively and calmly. + +"You see now," he said, "how right I was in attributing all this to +Ralph Carriston--how right I was to come to you, a doctor of standing, +who can vouch for my sanity." + +"Vouch for your sanity! How can I when you sit here and talk such arrant +nonsense, and expect me to believe it? When you jump from your chair and +rush madly at some visionary foe? Sane as you may be in all else, any +evidence I could give in your favor must break down in cross-examination +if an inkling of these things got about. Come, Carriston, be reasonable, +and prove your sanity by setting about this search for Miss Rowan in a +proper way." + +He made no reply, but walked up and down the room apparently in deep +thought. My words seemed to have had no effect upon him. Presently he +seated himself; and, as if to avoid returning to the argument, drew a +book at hazard from my shelves and began to read. He opened the volume +at random, but after reading a few lines seemed struck by something +that met his eyes, and in a few minutes was deeply immersed in the +contents of the book. I glanced at it to see what had so awakened his +interest. By a curious fatality he had chosen a book the very worst for +him in his present frame of mind--Gilchrist's recently published life of +William Blake, that masterly memoir of a man who was on certain points +as mad as Carriston himself. I was about to remonstrate, when he laid +down the volume and turned to me. + +"Varley, the painter," he said, "was a firm believer in Blake's +visions." + +"Varley was a bigger fool than Blake," I retorted. "Fancy his sitting +down and watching his clever but mad friend draw spectral heads, and +believing them to be genuine portraits of dead kings whose forms +condescended to appear to Blake!" + +A sudden thought seemed to strike Carriston. "Will you give me some +paper and chalk?" he asked. Upon being furnished with these materials he +seated himself at the table and began to draw. At least a dozen times he +sketched, with his usual rapidity, some object or another, and a dozen +times, after a moment's consideration, threw each sketch aside with an +air of disappointment and began a fresh one. At last one of his attempts +seemed to come up to his requirements. "I have it now, exactly!" he +cried with joy--even triumph--in his voice. He spent some time in +putting finishing touches to the successful sketch, then he handed me +the paper. + +"That is the man I saw just now with Madeline," he said. "When I find +him I shall find her." He spoke with all sincerity and conviction. I +looked at the paper with, I am bound to say, a great amount of +curiosity. + +No matter from what visionary source Carriston had drawn his +inspiration, his sketch was vigorous and natural enough. I have already +mentioned his wonderful power of drawing portraits from memory, so was +willing to grant that he might have reproduced the outline of some face +which had somewhere struck him. Yet why should it have been this one? +His drawing represented the three quarter face of a man--an ordinary +man--apparently between forty and fifty years of age. It was a +coarse-featured, ill-favored face, with a ragged ruff of hair round +the chin. It was not the face of a gentleman, nor even the face of a +gentle-nurtured man; and the artist, by a few cunning strokes, had made +it wear a crafty and sullen look. The sketch, as I write this, lies +before me, so that I am not speaking from memory. + +Now, there are some portraits of which, without having seen the +original, we say, "What splendid likenesses these must be." It was so +with Carriston's sketch. Looking at it you felt sure it was exactly like +the man whom it was intended to represent. So that, with the certain +amount of art knowledge which I am at least supposed to possess, it +was hard for me, after examining the drawing and recognizing the true +artist's touch in every line, to bring myself to accept the fact that it +was but the outcome of a diseased imagination. As, at this very moment, +I glance at that drawing, I scarcely blame myself for the question +that faintly frames itself in my innermost heart. "Could it be +possible--could there be in certain organizations powers not yet +known--not yet properly investigated?" + +My thought, supposing such a thought was ever there--was not discouraged +by Carriston, who, speaking as if his faith in the bodily existence of +the man whose portrait lay in my hand was unassailable, said, + +"I noticed that his general appearance was that of a countryman--an +English peasant; so in the country I shall find my love. Moreover, it +will be easy to identify the man, as the top joint is missing from the +middle finger of his right hand. As it lay on Madeline's arm I noticed +that." + +I argued with him no more. I felt that words would be but wasted. + + +IX. + +A day or two after I had witnessed what I must call Carriston's second +seizure we were favored with a visit from the man whose services we had +secured to trace Madeline. Since he had received his instructions we had +heard nothing of his proceeding until he now called to report progress +in person. Carriston had not expressed the slightest curiosity as to +where the man was or what he was about. Probably he looked upon the +employment of this private detective as nothing more useful than a salve +to my conscience. That Madeline was only to be found through the power +which he professed to hold of seeing her in his visions was, I felt +certain, becoming a rooted belief of his. Whenever I expressed my +surprise that our agent had brought or sent no information, Carriston +shrugged his shoulders, and assured me that from the first he knew the +man's researches would be fruitless. However, the fellow had called at +last, and, I hoped, had brought us good news. + +He was a glib-tongued man, who spoke in a confident, matter-of-fact way. +When he saw us he rubbed his hands as one who had brought affairs to a +successful issue, and now meant to reap praise and other rewards. His +whole bearing told me he had made an important discovery; so I begged +him to be seated, and give us his news. + +Carriston gave him a careless glance, and stood at some little distance +from us. He looked as if he thought the impending communication scarcely +worth the trouble of listening to. He might, indeed, from his looks, +have been the most disinterested person of the three. He even left me to +do the questioning. + +"Now, then, Mr. Sharpe," I said, "let us hear if you have earned your +money." + +"I think so, sir," replied Sharpe, looking curiously at Carriston, who, +strange to say, heard this answer with supreme indifference. + +"I think I may say I have, sir," continued the detective--"that is if +the gentlemen can identify these articles as being the young lady's +property." + +Thereupon he produced from a thick letter-case a ribbon in which was +stuck a silver pin, mounted with Scotch pebbles, an ornament that +I remembered having seen Madeline wear. Mr. Sharpe handed them to +Carriston. He examined them, and I saw his cheeks flush and his eyes +grow bright. + +"How did you come by this?" he cried, pointing to the silver ornament. + +"I'll tell you presently, sir. Do you recognize it?" + +"I gave it to Miss Rowan myself." + +"Then we are on the right track," I cried, joyfully. "Go on, Mr. +Sharpe." + +"Yes, gentlemen, we are certainly on the right track; but after all, it +isn't my fault if the track don't lead exactly where you wish. You see, +when I heard of this mysterious disappearance of the lady, I began to +concoct my own theory. I said to myself, when a young and beautiful--" + +"Confound your theories!" cried Carriston fiercely. "Go on with your +tale." + +The man gave his interrupter a spiteful glance. "Well, sir," he said, +"as you gave me strict instructions to watch a certain gentleman +closely, I obeyed those instructions, of course, although I knew I was +on a fool's errand." + +"Will you go on?" cried Carriston. "If you know where Miss Rowan is, say +so; your money will be paid you the moment I find her." + +"I don't say I exactly know where to find the lady, but I can soon know +if you wish me to." + +"Tell your tale your own way, but as shortly as possible," I said, +seeing that my excitable friend was preparing for another outburst. + +"I found there was nothing to be gained by keeping watch on the +gentleman you mentioned, sir, so I went to Scotland and tried back from +there. As soon as I worked on my own lay I found out all about it. The +lady went from Callendar to Edinburgh, from Edinburgh to London, from +London to Folkestone, and from Folkestone to Boulong." + +I glanced at Carriston. All his calmness seemed to have returned. He was +leaning against the mantelpiece, and appeared quite unmoved by Mr. +Sharpe's clear statement as to the route Madeline had taken. + +"Of course," continued Mr. Sharpe, "I was not quite certain I was +tracking the right person, although her description corresponded with +the likeness you gave me. But as you are sure this article of jewelry +belonged to the lady you want, the matter is beyond a doubt." + +"Of course," I said, seeing that Carriston had no intention of speaking. +"Where did you find it?" + +"It was left behind, in a bedroom of one of the principal hotels in +Folkestone. I did go over to Boulong, but after that I thought I had +learned all you would care to know." + +There was something in the man's manner which made me dread what was +coming. Again I looked at Carriston. His lips were curved with contempt, +but he still kept silence. + +"Why not have pursued your inquiries past Boulong?" I asked. + +"For this reason, sir. I had learned enough. The theory I had concocted +was the right one after all. The lady went to Edinburgh alone, right +enough: but she didn't leave Edinburgh alone, nor she didn't leave +London alone, nor she didn't stay at Folkestone--where I found the +pin--alone, nor she didn't go to Boulong alone. She was accompanied by +a young gentleman who called himself Mr. Smith; and what's more, she +called herself Mrs. Smith. Perhaps she was; as they lived like man and +wife." + +Whether the fellow was right or mistaken, this explanation of Madeline's +disappearance seemed to give me what I can only compare to a smack in +the face. I stared at the speaker in speechless astonishment. If the +tale he told so glibly and circumstantially was true, farewell, so far +as I was concerned, to belief in the love or purity of women. Madeline +Rowan, that creature of a poet's dream, on the eve of her marriage with +Charles Carriston to fly, whether wed or unwed mattered little, with +another man! And yet, she was but a woman. Carriston--or Carr, as she +only knew him--was in her eyes poor. The companion of her flight might +have won her with gold. Such things have been. Still-- + +My rapid and wrongful meditations were cut short in an unexpected way. +Suddenly I saw Mr. Sharpe dragged bodily out of his chair and thrown +on the floor, while Carriston, standing over him, thrashed the man +vigorously with his own ash stick--a convenient weapon, so convenient +that I felt Mr. Sharpe could not have selected a stick more appropriate +for his own chastisement. So Carriston seemed to think, for he laid on +cheerfully some eight or ten good cutting strokes. + +Nevertheless, being a respectable doctor and a man of peace, I was +compelled to interfere. I held Carriston's arm while Mr. Sharpe +struggled to his feet, and after collecting his hat and his pocket-book, +stood glaring vengefully at his assailant, and rubbing the while such +of the weals on his back as he could reach. Annoyed as I felt at the +unprofessional _fracas_, I could scarcely help laughing at the man's +appearance. I doubt the possibility of any one looking heroic after such +a thrashing. + +"I'll have the law for this," he growled. "I ain't paid to be beaten by +a madman." + +"You're paid to do my work, not another's," said Carriston. "Go to the +man who has over-bribed you and sent you to tell me your lies. Go to +him, tell him that once more he has failed. Out of my sight." + +As Carriston showed signs of recommencing hostile operations, the man +flew as far as the door-way. There, being in comparative safety, he +turned with a malignant look. + +"You'll smart for this," he said; "when they lock you up as a raving +lunatic I'll try and get a post as keeper." + +I was glad to see that Carriston paid no attention to this parting +shaft. He turned his back scornfully, and the fellow left the room and +the house. + +"Now are you convinced?" asked Carriston, turning to me. + +"Convinced of what? That his tale is untrue, or that he has been misled, +I am quite certain." + +"Tush! That is not worth consideration. Don't you see that Ralph has +done all this? I set that man to watch him; he found out the espionage; +suborned my agent, or your agent, I should say; sent him here with a +trumped-up tale. Oh, yes; I was to believe that Madeline had deserted +me--that was to drive me out of my senses. My cousin is a fool after +all!" + +"Without further proof I cannot believe that your suspicions are +correct," I said; but I must own I spoke with some hesitation. + +"Proof! A clever man like you ought to see ample proof in the fact of +that wretch having twice called me a madman. I have seen him but once +before--you know if I then gave him any grounds for making such an +assertion. Tell me, from whom could he have learned the word except +from Ralph Carriston?" + +I was bound, if only to save my own reputation for sagacity, to confess +that the point noted by Carriston had raised certain doubts in my mind. +But if Ralph Carriston really was trying by some finely-wrought scheme +to bring about what he desired, there was all the more reason for great +caution to be exercised. + +"I am sorry you beat him," I said. "He will now swear right and left +that you are not in your senses." + +"Of course he will. What do I care?" + +"Only remember this. It is easier to get put into an asylum than to get +out of it." + +"It is not so very easy for a sane man like myself to be put in, +especially when he is on his guard. I have looked up the law. There +must be a certificate signed by two doctors, surgeons--or, I believe, +apothecaries will do--who have seen the supposed lunatic alone and +together. I'll take very good care I speak to no doctor save yourself, +and keep out of the way of surgeons and apothecaries." + +It quite cheered me to hear him speaking so sensibly and collectedly +about himself, but I again impressed upon him the need of great caution. +Although I could not believe that his cousin had taken Madeline away, I +was inclined to think, after the affair with the spy, that, as Carriston +averred, he aimed at getting him, sane or insane, into a mad-house. + +But after all these days we were not a step nearer to the discovery of +Madeline's whereabouts. Carriston made no sign of doing anything to +facilitate that discovery. Again I urged him to intrust the whole affair +to the police. Again he refused to do so, adding that he was not quite +ready. Ready for what, I wondered! + + +X. + +I must confess, in spite of my affection for Carriston, I felt inclined +to rebel against the course which matters were taking. I was a prosaic +matter-of-fact medical man; doing my work to the best of my ability and +anxious when that work was done that my hours of leisure should be as +free from worry and care as possible. With Carriston's advent several +disturbing elements entered into my quiet life. + +Let Ralph Carriston be guilty or innocent of the extraordinary crime +which his cousin laid at his door, I felt that he was anxious to obtain +possession of the supposed lunatic's person. It would suit his purposes +for his cousin to be proved mad. I did not believe that even if the +capture was legally effected Carriston's liberation would be a matter of +great difficulty so long as he remained in his present state of mind; so +long as I, a doctor of some standing, could go into the witness-box and +swear to his sanity. But my old dread was always with me--the dread that +any further shock would overturn the balance of his sensitive mind. + +So it was that every hour that Carriston was out of my sight was fraught +with anxiety. If Ralph Carriston was really as unscrupulous as my friend +supposed; if he had really, as seemed almost probable, suborned our +agent; he might by some crafty trick obtain the needful certificate, and +some day I should come home and find Carriston had been removed. In such +a case I foresaw great trouble and distress. + +Besides, after all that had occurred, it was as much as I could do to +believe that Carriston was not mad. Any doctor who knew what I knew +would have given the verdict against him. + +After dismissing his visions and hallucinations with the contempt which +they deserved, the fact of a man who was madly, passionately in love +with a woman, and who believed that she had been entrapped and was +still kept in restraint, sitting down quietly, and letting day after day +pass without making an effort toward finding her, was in itself _prima +facie_ evidence of insanity. A sane man would at once have set all the +engines of detection at work. + +I felt that if once Ralph Carriston obtained possession of him he could +make out a strong case in his own favor. First of all, the proposed +marriage out of the defendant's own sphere of life; the passing under a +false name; the ridiculous, or apparently ridiculous, accusation made +against his kinsman; the murderous threats; the chastisement of his own +paid agent who brought him a report which might not seem at all untrue +to any one who knew not Madeline Rowan. Leaving out the question what +might be wrung from me in cross-examination, Ralph Carriston had a +strong case, and I knew that, once in his power, my friend might +possibly be doomed to pass years, if not his whole life, under +restraint. So I was anxious--very anxious. + +And I felt an anxiety, scarcely second to that which prevailed on +Carriston's account, as to the fate of Madeline. Granting for sake of +argument that Carriston's absurd conviction that no bodily harm had as +yet been done her, was true, I felt sure that she with her scarcely less +sensitive nature must feel the separation from her lover as much as he +himself felt the separation from her. Once or twice I tried to comfort +myself with cynicism--tried to persuade myself that a young woman +could not in our days be spirited away--that she had gone by her own +free-will--that there was a man who had at the eleventh hour alienated +her affections from Carriston. But I could not bring myself to believe +this. So I was placed between the horns of a dilemma. + +If Madeline had not fled of her own free-will, some one must have taken +her away, and if so our agent's report was a coined one, and, if a +coined one, issued at Ralph's instance; therefore Ralph must be the +prime actor in the mystery. + +But in sober moments such a deduction seemed an utter absurdity. + +Although I have said that Carriston was doing nothing toward clearing up +the mystery, I wronged him in so saying. After his own erratic way he +was at work. At such work too! I really lost all patience with him. + +He shut himself up in his room, out of which he scarcely stirred for +three days. By that time he had completed a large and beautiful drawing +of his imaginary man. This he took to a well-known photographer's, and +ordered several hundred small photographs of it, to be prepared as +soon as possible. The minute description which he had given me of his +fanciful creation was printed at the foot of each copy. As soon as the +first batch of these precious photographs was sent home, to my great +joy he did what he should have done days ago; yielded to my wishes, and +put the matter into the hands of the police. + +I was glad to find that in giving details of what had happened he said +nothing about the advisability of keeping a watch on Ralph Carriston's +proceedings. He did, indeed, offer an absurdly large reward for the +discovery of the missing girl; and, moreover, gave the officer in charge +of the case a packet of photographs of his phantom man, telling him +in the gravest manner that he knew the original of that likeness had +something to do with the disappearance of Miss Rowan. The officer, who +thought the portrait was that of a natural being, took his instructions +in good faith, although he seemed greatly surprised when he heard +that Carriston knew neither the name nor the occupation, in fact, +knew nothing concerning the man who was to be sought for. However, as +Carriston assured him that finding this man would insure the reward as +much as if he found Madeline, the officer readily promised to combine +the two tasks, little knowing what waste of time any attempt to perform +the latter must be. + +Two days after this Carriston came to me. "I shall leave you to-morrow," +he said. + +"Where are you going?" I asked. "Why do you leave?" + +"I am going to travel about. I have no intention of letting Ralph get +hold of me. So I mean to go from place to place until I find Madeline." + +"Be careful," I urged. + +"I shall be careful enough. I'll take care that no doctors, surgeons, or +even apothecaries get on my track. I shall go just as the fit seizes me. +If I can't say one day where I shall be the next, it will be impossible +for that villain to know." + +This was not a bad argument. In fact, if he carried out his resolve of +passing quickly from place to place I did not see how he could plan +anything more likely to defeat the intentions with which we credited his +cousin. As to his finding Madeline by so doing, that was another matter. + +His idea seemed to be that chance would sooner or later bring him in +contact with the man of his dream. However, now that the search had been +intrusted to the proper persons his own action in the matter was not +worth troubling about. I gave him many cautions. He was to be quiet and +guarded in words and manner. He was not to converse with strangers. If +he found himself dogged or watched by any one he was to communicate at +once with me. But, above all, I begged him not to yield again to his +mental infirmity. The folly of a man who could avoid it, throwing +himself into such a state ought to be apparent to him. + +"Not oftener than I can help," was all the promise I could get from him. +"But see her I must sometimes, or I shall die." + +I had now given up as hopeless the combat with his peculiar +idiosyncrasy. So, with many expressions of gratitude on his part, we +bade each other farewell. + +During his absence he wrote to me nearly every day, so that I might know +his whereabouts in case I had any news to communicate. But I had none. +The police failed to find the slightest clew. I had been called upon +by them once or twice in order that they might have every grain of +information I could give. I took the liberty of advising them not to +waste their time in looking for the man, as his very existence was +problematical. It was but a fancy of my friend's, and not worth thinking +seriously about. I am not sure but what after hearing this they did +not think the whole affair was an imagined one, and so relaxed their +efforts. + +Once or twice, Carriston, happening to be in the neighborhood of London, +came to see me, and slept the night at my house. He also had no news to +report. Still, he seemed hopeful as ever. + +The weeks went by until Christmas was over and the New Year begun; but +no sign, word, or trace of Madeline Rowan. "I have seen her," wrote +Carriston, "several times. She is in the same place--unhappy, but not +ill-treated." + +Evidently his hallucinations were still in full force. + + * * * * * + +At first I intended that the whole of this tale should be told by +myself; but upon getting so far it struck me that the evidence of +another actor who played an important part in the drama would give +certain occurrences to the reader at first instead of at second hand, +so I wrote to my friend Dick Fenton, of Frenchay, Gloucestershire, and +begged him, if he found himself capable of so doing, to put in simple +narrative form his impressions of certain events which happened in +January, 1866: events in which we two were concerned. He has been good +enough to comply with my request. His communication follows. + + + + +PART II. + +TOLD BY RICHARD FENTON, OF FRENCHAY, GLOUCESTERSHIRE, ESQUIRE. + + +I. + +As my old friend Phil Brand has asked me to do this, I suppose I must. +Brand is a right good fellow and a clever fellow, but has plenty of +crotchets of his own. The worst I know of him is that he insists upon +having his own with people. With those who differ from him he is as +obstinate as a mule. Anyhow, he has always had his own way with me. This +custom, so far as I am concerned, commenced years ago when we were boys +at school together, and I have never been able to shake off the bad +habit of giving in to him. He has promised to see that my queen's +English is presentable: for, to tell the truth, I am more at home across +country than across foolscap, and my fingers know the feel of the reins +or the trigger better than that of the pen. + +All the same I hope he won't take too many liberties with my style, bad +though it may be; for old Brand at times is apt to get--well, a bit +prosy. To hear him on the subject of hard work and the sanctity thereof +approaches the sublime! + +What freak took me to the little God-forsaken village of Midcombe in the +depth of winter is entirely between myself and my conscience. The cause +having no bearing upon the matters I am asked to tell you about, is no +one's business but mine. I will only say that now I would not stay in +such a place at such a time of the year for the sake of the prettiest +girl in the world, let alone the bare chance of meeting her once or +twice. But one's ideas change. I am now a good bit older, ride some two +stones heavier, and have been married ever so many years. Perhaps, after +all, as I look back I can find some excuse for being such an ass as to +endure for more than a fortnight all the discomforts heaped upon me in +that little village inn. + +A man who sojourns in such a hole as Midcombe must give some reason for +doing so. My ostensible reason was hunting. I had a horse with me, and a +second-rate subscription pack of slow-going mongrels did meet somewhere +in the neighborhood, so no one could gainsay my explanation. But if +hunting was my object, I got precious little of it. A few days after my +arrival a bitter, biting frost set in--a frost as black as your hat and +as hard as nails. Yet still I stayed on. + +From private information received--no matter how, when or where--I knew +that some people in the neighborhood had organized a party to go skating +on a certain day at Lilymere, a fine sheet of water some distance from +Midcombe. I guessed that some one whom I particularly desired to meet +would be there, and as the skating at Lilymere was free to any one who +chose to take the trouble of getting to such an out-of-the-way place, I +hired a horse and an apology for a dog-cart, and at ten in the morning +started to drive the twelve miles to the pond. I took no one with me. I +had been to Lilymere once before, in bright summer weather, so fancied +I knew the way well enough. + +The sky when I started was cloudy; the wind was chopping round in a way +which made the effete rustic old hostler predict a change of weather. He +was right. Before I had driven two miles light snow began to fall, and +by the time I reached a little wretched wayside inn, about a mile from +the Mere, a film of white covered the whole country. I stabled my horse +as well as I could, then taking my skates with me walked down to the +pond. + +Now, whether I had mistaken the day, or whether the threatening fall of +snow had made certain people change their minds, I don't know; but, to +my annoyance and vexation, no skaters were to be seen, and moreover, +the uncut, white surface told me that none had been on the pond that +morning. Still hoping they might come in spite of the weather, I put on +my skates and went outside-edging and grape-vining all over the place. +But as there was no person in particular--in fact, no one at all--to +note my powers, I soon got tired. It was, indeed, dreary, dreary work. +But I waited and hoped until the snow came down so fast and furiously +that I felt sure that waiting was in vain, and that I had driven to +Lilymere for nothing. + +Back I went to the little inn, utterly disgusted with things in general, +and feeling that to break some one's head would be a relief to me in my +present state of mind. Of course a sensible man would at once have got +his horse between the shafts and driven home. But whatever I may be now, +in those days I was not a sensible man--Brand will, I know, cordially +indorse this remark--the accommodation of the inn was not such as to +induce one to linger within its precincts; but the fire was a right good +one, and a drink, which I skilfully manufactured out of some hot beer, +not to be despised, and proved warming to the body and soothing to the +ruffled temper. So I lingered over the big fire until I began to feel +hungry, and upon the landlady assuring me that she could cook a rasher, +decided it would be wiser to stay where I was until the violence of the +snowstorm was over; for coming down it was now, and no mistake. + +And it kept on coming down. About half-past three, when I sorrowfully +decided I was bound to make a move, it was snowing faster than ever. I +harnessed my horse, and laughing at the old woman's dismal prophecy that +I should never get to Midcombe in such weather, gathered up the reins, +and away I went along the white road. + +I thought I knew the way well enough. In fact I had always prided myself +upon remembering any road once driven over by me; but does any one who +has not tried it really know how a heavy fall of snow changes the aspect +of the country, and makes landmarks snares and delusions? I learned all +about it then, once and for all. I found, also, that the snow lay much +deeper than I thought could possibly be in so short a time, and it still +fell in a manner almost blinding. Yet I went on bravely and merrily for +some miles. Then came a bit of uncertainty-- + +Which of those two roads was the right one? This one, of course--no, the +other. There was no house near; no one was likely to be passing in such +weather, so I was left to exercise my free, unbiased choice; a privilege +I would willingly have dispensed with. However, I made the best +selection I could, and followed it for some two miles. Then I began to +grow doubtful, and soon persuading myself that I was on the wrong track, +retraced my steps. I was by this time something like a huge white +plaster of Paris figure, and the snow which had accumulated on the old +dog-cart made it run heavier by half-a-ton, more or less. By the time I +came to that unlucky junction of roads at which my misfortune began it +was almost dark; the sky as black as a tarpaulin, yet sending down the +white feathery flakes thicker and faster than ever. I felt inclined to +curse my folly in attempting such a drive, at any rate I blamed myself +for not having started two or three hours earlier. I'll warrant that +steady-going old Brand never had to accuse himself of such foolishness +as mine. + +Well, I took the other road; went on some way; came to a turning which +I seemed to remember; and, not without misgivings, followed it. My +misgivings increased when, after a little while, I found the road grew +full of ruts, which the snow and the darkness quite concealed from me +until the wheels got into them. Evidently I was wrong again. I was just +thinking of making the best of my way out of this rough and unfrequented +road, when--there, I don't know how it happened, such things seldom +occur to me--a stumble, a fall on the part of my tired horse sent me +flying over the dashboard, with the only consoling thought that the +reins were still in my hand. + +Luckily the snow had made the falling pretty soft. I soon picked myself +up and set about estimating damages. With some difficulty I got the +horse out of the harness, and then felt free to inspect the dog-cart. +Alas! after the manner of the two-wheel kind whenever a horse thinks fit +to fall, one shaft had snapped off like a carrot; so here was I, five +miles apparently from anywhere, in the thick of a blinding snow-storm, +left standing helpless beside a jaded horse and a broken cart--I should +like to know what Brand would have done under the circumstances. + +As for me, I reflected for some minutes--reflection in a snow-storm is +weary work. I reasoned, I believe logically, and at last came to this +decision: I would follow the road. If, as I suspected, it was but a +cart-track, it would probably soon lead to a habitation of some kind. +Anyway I had better try a bit further. I took hold of the wearied horse, +and with snow under my feet, snow-flakes whirling round me, and a wind +blowing right into my teeth, struggled on. + +It was a journey! I think I must have been three-quarters of an hour +going about a quarter of a mile. I was just beginning to despair, when I +saw a welcome gleam of light. I steered toward it, fondly hoping that my +troubles were at an end. I found the light stole through the ill-fitting +window-shutters of what seemed, so far as I could make out in the +darkness, to be a small farm-house. Tying to a gate the knotted reins +by which I had been leading the horse, I staggered up to the door and +knocked loudly. Upon my honor, until I leaned against that door-post I +had no idea how tired I was--until that moment I never suspected that +the finding of speedy shelter meant absolutely saving my life. Covered +from head to foot with snow, my hat crushed in, I must have been a +pitiable object. + +No answer came to my first summons. It was only after a second and more +imperative application of my heel that the door deigned to give way a +few inches. Through the aperture a woman's voice asked who was there? + +"Let me in," I said. "I have missed my way to Midcombe. My horse has +fallen. You must give me shelter for the night. Open the door and let me +in." + +"Shelter! You can't get shelter here, mister," said a man's gruff voice. +"This ain't an inn, so you'd best be off and go elsewhere." + +"But I must come in," I said, astonished at such inhospitality; "I can't +go a step further. Open the door at once!" + +"You be hanged," said the man. "'Tis my house, not yours." + +"But, you fool, I mean to pay you well for your trouble. Don't you know +it means death wandering about on such a night as this? Let me in." + +"You won't come in here," was the brutal and boorish reply. The door +closed. + +That I was enraged at such incivility may be easily imagined; but if I +said I was thoroughly frightened I believe no one would be surprised. +As getting into that house meant simply life or death to me, into that +house I determined to get, by door or window, by fair means or by foul. +So, as the door closed, I hurled myself against it with all the might I +could muster. Although I ride much heavier now than I did then, all my +weight at that time was bone and muscle. The violence of my attack tore +from the lintel the staple which held the chain; the door went back with +a bang, and I fell forward into the house, fully resolved to stay there +whether welcome or unwelcome. + + +II. + +The door through which I had burst like a battering ram opened straight +into a sort of kitchen, so although I entered in a most undignified way, +in fact on my hands and knees, I was well-established in the centre of +the room before the man and woman emerged from behind the door, where my +successful assault had thrown them. I stood up and faced them. They were +a couple of ordinary, respectably-attired country people. The man, a +sturdy, strong-built, bull-necked rascal, stood scowling at me, and, I +concluded, making up his mind as to what course to pursue. + +"My good people," I said, "you are behaving in the most unheard-of +manner. Can't you understand that I mean to pay you well for any trouble +I give you? But whether you like it or not, here I stay to-night. To +turn me out would be sheer murder." + +So saying I pulled off my overcoat, and began shaking the snow out of my +whiskers. + +I dare say my determined attitude, my respectable, as well as my +muscular appearance, impressed my unwilling hosts. Anyway, they gave +in without more ado. Whilst the woman shut the door, through which the +snow-flakes were whirling, the man said sullenly: + +"Well, you'll have to spend the night on a chair. We've no beds here for +strangers. 'Specially those as ain't wanted." + +"Very well, my friend. Having settled the matter you may as well make +yourself pleasant. Go out and put my horse under cover, and give him a +feed of some sort--make a mash if you can." + +After giving the woman a quick glance as of warning, my scowling host +lit a horn lantern, and went on the errand I suggested. I gladly sank +into a chair, and warmed myself before a cheerful fire. The prospect of +spending the night amid such discomfort was not alluring, but I had, at +least, a roof over my head. + +As a rule, the more churlish the nature, the more avaricious it is found +to be. My promise of liberal remuneration was, after all, not without +its effect upon the strange couple whose refusal to afford me refuge had +so nearly endangered my life. They condescended to get me some tea and +rough food. After I had disposed of all that, the man produced a bottle +of gin. We filled our glasses, and then, with the aid of my pipe, I +settled down to make the best of a night spent in a hard wooden chair. + +I had come across strange people in my travels, but I have no hesitation +in saying that my host was the sullenest, sulkiest, most boorish +specimen of human nature I had as yet met with. In spite of his recent +ill-treatment of me I was quite ready to establish matters on a friendly +footing, and made several attempts to draw him into conversation. The +brute would only answer in monosyllables, or often not answer at all. So +I gave up talking as a bad job, and sat in silence, smoking and looking +into the fire, thinking a good deal, it may be, of some one I should +have met that morning at Lilymere had the wretched snow but kept off. + +The long clock--that cumbrous eight-day machine which inevitably +occupies one corner of every cottager's kitchen--struck nine. The woman +rose and left us. I concluded she was going to bed. If so, I envied her. +Her husband showed no sign of retiring. He still sat over the fire, +opposite me. By this time I was dreadfully tired: every bone in my body +ached. The hard chair which an hour or two ago, seemed all I could +desire, now scarcely came up to my ideas of the comfort I was justly +entitled to claim. My sulky companion had been drinking silently but +steadily. Perhaps the liquor he had poured into himself might have +rendered his frame of mind more pleasant and amenable to reason. + +"My good fellow," I said, "your chairs are excellent ones of the kind, +but deucedly uncomfortable. I am horribly tired. If the resources of +your establishment can't furnish a bed for me to sleep in, couldn't you +find a mattress or something to lay down before the fire?" + +"You've got all you'll get to-night," he answered, knocking the ashes +out his pipe. + +"Oh, but I say!" + +"So do I say. I say this: If you don't like it you can leave it. We +didn't ask you to come." + +"You infernal beast," I muttered--and meant it too--I declare had I not +been so utterly worn out, I would have had that bullet-headed ruffian up +for a few rounds on his own kitchen floor, and tried to knock him into a +more amiable frame of mind. + +"Never mind," I said; "but, remember, civility costs nothing, and often +gets rewarded. However, if you wish to retire to your own couch don't +let your native politeness stand in your way. Pray don't hesitate on my +account. Leave plenty of fuel, and I shall manage until morning." + +"Where you stay, I stay," he answered. Then he filled his pipe, and once +more relapsed into stony silence. + +I bothered about him no more. I dozed off for a few minutes--woke--dozed +off again for some hours. I was in an uncomfortable sort of half sleep, +crammed full of curious dreams--dreams from which I started, wondering +where I was and how I got there. I even began to grow nervous. All sorts +of horrible travellers' tales ran through my head. It was in just such +places as this that unsuspecting voyagers were stated to have been +murdered and robbed, by just such unmitigated ruffians as my host--I +can tell you that altogether I spent a most pleasant night. + +To make matters worse and more dismal the storm still raged outside. The +wind moaned through the trees, but it had again changed, and I knew from +the sound on the window-panes that heavy rain had succeeded snow. As the +big drops of water found their way down the large old-fashioned chimney, +the fire hissed and spluttered like a spiteful vixen. Everything +combined to deprive me of what dog's sleep I could by sheer persistency +snatch. + +I think I tried every position which an ordinary man, not an acrobat, is +capable of adopting with the assistance of a common wooden chair. I even +lay down on the hard flags. I actually tried the table. I propped up the +upper half of my body against the corner walls of the room; but found no +rest. At last I gave up all idea of sleeping, and fully aroused myself. +I comforted myself by saying that my misery was only temporary--that the +longest night must come to an end. + +My companion had by now succumbed to fatigue, or to the combined effects +of fatigue and gin-and-water. His head was hanging sideways, and he +slept in a most uncomfortable attitude. I chuckled as I looked at him, +feeling quite sure that if such a clod was capable of dreaming at all, +his dreams must be worse even than mine. I filled another pipe, poked +the smoldering logs into a blaze, and sat almost nose and knees over the +fire, finding some amusement in speculating upon the condition of the +churl before me, and thanking the Lord I was not like unto this man. +Suddenly an idea flashed across me. + +I had seen this fellow before. But when or where I could not remember. +His features, as I looked at them with keener interest, seemed to grow +more and more familiar to me. Where could I have met him? Somewhere or +other, but where? I racked my brain to associate him with some scene, +some event. Although he was but an ordinary countryman, such as one sees +scores of in a day's ride, only differing from his kind on account of +his unpleasant face, I felt sure we were old acquaintances. When he +awoke for a moment and changed his strained attitude, my feeling grew +stronger and stronger. Yet puzzle and puzzle as I would I could not call +to mind a former encounter; so at last I began to think the supposed +recognition was pure fancy on my part. + +Having smoked out several pipes, I thought that a cigar would be a +slight break to the monotony of the night's proceedings. So I drew out +my case and looked at its contents. Among the weeds was one of a lighter +color than the others. As I took it out I said to myself, "Why, old +Brand gave me that one when I was last at his house." Curiously enough +that cigar was the missing link in the chain of my memory. As I held it +in my hand I knew at once why my host's ugly face seemed familiar to +me. + +About a fortnight before, being in town, I had spent the evening with +the doctor. He was not alone, and I was introduced to a tall pale young +man named Carriston. He was a pleasant, polite young fellow, although +not much in my line. At first I judged him to be a would-be poet of the +fashionable miserable school; but finding that he and Brand talked so +much about art I eventually decided that he was one of the doctor's many +artist friends. Art is a hobby he hacks about on grandly. (Mem. Brand's +own attempt at pictures are simply atrocious!) + +Just before I left, Carriston, the doctor's back being turned, asked me +to step into another room. There he showed me the portrait of a man. It +seemed very cleverly drawn, and I presumed he wanted me to criticise it. + +"I am a precious bad judge," I said. + +"I am not asking you to pass an opinion," said Carriston. "I want +to beg a favor of you. I am almost ashamed to beg it on so short an +acquaintance." + +He seemed modest, and not in want of money, so I encouraged him to +proceed. + +"I heard you say you were going into the country," he resumed. "I want +to ask you if by any chance you should meet the original of that drawing +to telegraph at once to Dr. Brand." + +"Whereabouts does he live?" + +"I have no idea. If chance throws him in your way please do as I ask." + +"Certainly I will," I said, seeing the young man made the request in +solemn earnest. + +He thanked me, and then gave me a small photograph of the picture. This +photograph he begged me to keep in my pocket-book, so that I might +refer to it in case I met the man he wanted. I put it there, went my +way, and, am sorry to say, forget all about it. Had it not been for the +strange cigar in my case bringing back Carriston's unusual request to my +mind, the probabilities are that I should not have thought again of the +matter. Now, by a remarkable coincidence, I was spending the night with +the very man, who, so far as my memory served me, must have sat for the +portrait shown me at Brand's house. + +"I wonder what I did with the photo," I said. I turned out my +letter-case. There it was, right enough! Shading it with one hand, I +carefully compared it with the sleeper. + +Not a doubt about it! So far as a photograph taken from a picture can +go, it was the man himself. The same ragged beard, the same coarse +features, the same surly look. Young Carriston was evidently a wonderful +hand at knocking off a likeness. Moreover, in case I had felt any doubt +in the matter, a printed note at the bottom of the photograph said that +one joint was missing from a right-hand finger. Sure enough, my friend +lacked that small portion of his misbegotten frame. + +This discovery threw me in an ecstasy of delight. I laughed so loudly +that I almost awoke the ruffian. I guessed I was going to take a +glorious revenge for all the discomforts I had suffered. No one, I felt +sure, could be looking for such a fellow as this to do any good to him. +I was quite happy in the thought, and for the remainder of the night +gloated over the idea of putting a spoke in the wheel of one who had +been within an ace of causing my death. I resolved, the moment I got +back to civilization, to send the desired intelligence to Brand, and +hope for the best. + + +III. + +The end of that wretched night came at last. When the welcome morning +broke I found that a great change had taken place out-of-doors. The +fierce snow-storm had been the farewell of the frost. The heavy rain +that followed had filled the roads with slushy and rapidly-thawing snow. +I managed to extort some of a breakfast from my host, then, having +recompensed him according to my promise, not his deserts, started, as +soon as I could, on the bare back of my unfortunate steed, for Midcombe, +which place, after my night's experience, seemed gifted with merits not +its own. + +I was surprised upon leaving the house to find it was of larger +dimensions than, from the little I saw of it during the night, I had +imagined. It was altogether a better class of residence than I had +supposed. My surly friend accompanied me until he had placed me on the +main road, where I could make no possible mistake. He was kind enough to +promise to assist any one I might send out in getting the dog-cart once +more under way. Then, with a hearty wish on my part that I might never +again meet with his like, we parted. + +I found my way to Midcombe without much trouble. I took off my things, +had a wash, and, like a sensible man for once, went to bed. But I did +not forget to send a boy straight off to the nearest telegraph station. +My message to Brand was a brief one. It simply said: "Tell your friend I +have found his man." This duty done, I dismissed all speculation as to +the result from my mind, and settled down to make up arrears of sleep. + +I was surprised at the reply received that same evening from Brand: +"We shall be with you as soon as we can get down to-morrow. Meet +us at station." From this it was clear that my friend was wanted +particularly--all the better! I turned to the time-table and found that, +owing to changes and delays, they could not get to C----, the nearest +station to Midcombe, until three o'clock in the afternoon. I inquired +about the crippled dog-cart. It had been brought in; so I left strict +instructions that a shaft of some sort was to be rigged in time for me +to drive over the next day and meet the doctor and his friend. + +They came as promised. It was a comfort to see friends of any +description, so I gave them a hearty welcome. Carriston took hold of +both my hands, and shook them so warmly that I began to feel I had +discovered a long-lost father of his in my friend. I had almost +forgotten the young fellow's appearance, or he looked a very different +man to-day from the one I had seen when last we met. Then he was a wan, +pensive, romantic, poetical-looking sort of fellow; now he seemed full +of energy, vitality, and grit. Poor old Brand looked as serious as an +undertaker engaged in burying his own mother. + +Carriston began to question me, but Brand stopped him. "You promised I +should make inquiries first," he said. Then he turned to me. + +"Look here, Richard,"--when he calls me Richard I know he is fearfully +in earnest--"I believe you have brought us down on a fool's errand; but +let us go to some place where we can talk together for a few minutes." + +I lead them across the road to the Railway Inn. We entered a room, and, +having for the sake of appearances ordered a little light refreshment, +told the waiter to shut the door from the outside. Brand settled down +with the air of a cross-examining counsel. I expected to see him pull +out a New Testament and put me on my oath. + +"Now, Richard," he said, "before we go further I want to know your +reasons for thinking this man, about whom you telegraphed, is +Carriston's man, as you call him." + +"Reasons! Why of course he is the man. Carriston gave me his photograph. +The likeness is indisputable--leaving the finger-joint out of the +question." + +Here Carriston looked at my cross-examiner triumphantly. The meaning of +that look I have never to this hour understood. But I laughed because I +knew old Brand had for once made a mistake, and was going to be called +to account for it. Carriston was about to speak, but the doctor waved +him aside. + +"Now, Richard, think very carefully. You speak of the missing +finger-joint. We doctors know how many people persuade themselves into +all sorts of thing. Tell me, did you notice the likeness before you saw +the mutilated finger, or did the fact of the finger's being mutilated +bring the likeness to your mind?" + +"Bless the man!" I said; "one would think I had no eyes. I tell you +there is no doubt about this man being the original of the photo." + +"Never mind; answer my question." + +"Well, then, I am ashamed to confess it, but I put the photo in my +pocket, and forgot all about it until I had recognized the man, and +pulled out the likeness to make sure. I didn't even know there was a +printed description at the foot, nor that any member was wanting. +Confound it, Brand! I'm not such a duffer as you think." + +Brand did not retaliate. He turned to his friend and said gravely, "To +me the matter is inexplicable. Take your own course, as I promised you +should." Then he sat down, looking deliciously crest-fallen, and wearing +the discontented expression always natural to him when worsted in +argument. + +It was now Carriston's turn. He plied me with many questions. In fact, I +gave him the whole history of my adventure. "What kind of house is it?" +he asked. + +"Better than a cottage--scarcely a farm-house. A place, I should think, +with a few miserable acres of bad land belonging to it. One of those +wretched little holdings which are simply curses to the country." + +He made lots of other inquiries, the purport of which I could not then +divine. He seemed greatly impressed when I told him that the man had +never for a moment left me alone. He shot a second glance of triumph at +Brand, who still kept silent, and looked as if all the wind had been +taken out of his sails. + +"How far is the place?" asked Carriston. "Could you drive me there after +dark?" + +At this question the doctor returned to life. "What do you mean to do?" +he asked his friend. "Let us have no nonsense. Even now I feel sure that +Fenton is mislead by some chance resemblance--" + +"Deuce a bit, old chap," I said. + +"Well, whether or not, we needn't do foolish things. We must go and +swear information, and get a search-warrant, and the assistance of the +police. The truth is, Richard," he continued, turning to me, "we have +reason to believe, or I should say Carriston persists in fancying, that +a friend of his has for some time been kept in durance by the man whom +you say you recognized." + +"Likely enough," I said. "He looked villain enough for anything up to +murder." + +"Anyway," said Brand, "we must do everything according to law." + +"Law! I want no law," answered Carriston. "I have found her, as I knew +I should find her. I shall simply fetch her, and at once. You can come +with me or stay here, as you like, doctor; but I am afraid I must +trouble your friend to drive me somewhere near the place he speaks of." + +Foreseeing an adventure and great fun--moreover, not unmoved by thoughts +of revenge--I placed myself entirely at Carriston's disposal. He +expressed his gratitude, and suggested that we should start at once. +In a few minutes we were ready, and mounted the dog-cart. Brand, after +grumbling loudly at the whole proceeding, finished up by following us, +and installing himself in the back seat. Carriston placed a parcel he +carried inside the cart, and away we went. + +It was now nearly dark, and raining cats and dogs. I had my lamps +lighted, so we got along without much difficulty. The roads were deep +with mud; but by this time the snow had been pretty nearly washed away +from everywhere. I don't make a mistake in a road twice, so in due +course we reached the scene of my upset. Here I drew up. + +"The house lies about five hundred yards up the lane," I told Carriston; +"we had better get out here." + +"What about the horse?" asked Brand. + +"No chance of any one passing this way on such a night as this; so let +us put out the lamps and tie him up somewhere." + +We did so; then struggled on afoot until we saw the gleam of light which +had been so welcomed by me two nights before. + +It was just about as dark as pitch; but guided by the light, we went on +until we stood in front of the house, where a turf bank and a dry hedge +hid us from sight, although on such a night we had little fear of our +presence being discovered. + +"What do you mean to do now?" asked Brand in a discontented whisper. +"You can't break into the house." + +Carriston said nothing for a minute; then I felt him place his hand on +my shoulder. + +"Are there any horses; any cows about the place?" he asked. + +I told him I thought that my surly friend rejoiced in the possession of +a horse and a cow. + +"Very well. Then we must wait. He'll come out to see to them before he +goes to bed," said Carriston, as decidedly as a general giving orders +just before a battle. + +I could not see how Brand expressed his feelings upon hearing this order +from our commander--I know I shrugged my shoulders, and if I said +nothing, I thought a deal. The present situation was all very well for a +strongly-interested party like Carriston, but he could scarcely expect +others to relish the prospect of waiting, it might be for hours, under +that comfortless hedge. We were all wet to the skin, and although I was +extremely anxious to see the end of the expedition, and find poetical +justice meted out to my late host, Carriston's Fabian tactics lacked the +excitement I longed for. Brand, in spite of his disapproval of the whole +course of action, was better off than I was. As a doctor, he must have +felt sure that, provided he could survive the exposure, he would secure +two fresh patients. However, we made no protest, but waited for events +to develop themselves. + + +IV. + +More than half an hour went by. I was growing numbed and tired, and +beginning to think that we were making asses of ourselves, when I heard +the rattle of a chain, and felt Carriston give my arm a warning touch. +No doubt my late host had made sure that his new door-fastenings were +equal to a stronger test than that to which I had subjected the former +ones; so we were wise in not attempting to carry his castle by force. + +The door opened, and closed again. I saw the feeble glimmer of a lantern +moving toward the out-house in which my horse had been stabled. I heard +a slight rustling in the hedge, and, stretching out my arm, found that +Carriston had left my side. In the absence of any command from him I did +not follow, but resumed the old occupation--waiting. + +In a few minutes the light of the lantern reappeared; the bearer stood +on the threshold of the house, while I wondered what Carriston was +doing. Just as the door was opened for the boor's readmittance, a dark +figure sprung upon him! I heard a fierce oath and cry of surprise; then +the lantern flew out of the man's hand, and he and his assailant tumbled +struggling through the narrow door-way. + +"Hurrah! the door is won, anyway!" I shouted, as, followed closely by +the doctor, I jumped over the hedge and rushed to the scene of the fray. + +Although Carriston's well-conceived attack was so vigorous and +unexpected that the man went down under it; although our leader utilized +the advantage he had gained in a proper and laudable manner, by bumping +that thick bullet-head as violently as he could against the flags on +which it lay; I doubt if, after all, he could have done his work alone. +The countryman was a muscular brute and Carriston but a stripling. +However, our arrival speedily settled the question. + +"Bind him!" panted Carriston; "there is a cord in my pocket." He +appeared to have come quite prepared for contingencies. Whilst Carriston +still embraced his prostrate foe, and Brand, to facilitate matters, +knelt on his shoulders, sat on his head, or did something else useful, I +drew out from the first pocket I tried a nice length of half-inch line, +and had the immense satisfaction of trussing up my scowling friend in a +most workmanlike manner. He must have felt those turns on his wrists for +days afterward. Yet when we were at last at liberty to rise and leave +him lying helpless on his kitchen-floor, I considered I exercised great +self-denial in not bestowing a few kicks upon him, as he swore at us in +the broadest vernacular in a way which, under the circumstances, was no +doubt a great comfort to him. + +We scarcely noticed the man's wife while we rendered her husband +helpless. As we entered she attempted to fly out, but Brand, with a +promptitude which I am glad to record, intercepted her, closed the door, +turned and pocketed the key. After that the woman sat on the floor and +rocked herself to and fro. + +For some moments, while recovering his breath, Carriston stood, and +positively glared at his prostrate foe. At last he found words. + +"Where is she? Where is the key, you hound?" he thundered out, stooping +over the fellow, and shaking him with a violence which did my heart +good. As he received no answers save the unrecordable expressions above +mentioned, we unbuttoned the wretch's pockets, and searched those greasy +receptacles. Among the usual litter we did certainly find a key. +Carriston snatched at it, and shouting "Madeline! Madeline! I come!" +rushed out of the room like a maniac, leaving Brand and me to keep guard +over our prisoners. + +I filled a pipe, lit it, and then came back to my fallen foe. + +"I say, old chap!" I said, stirring him gently with the toe of my boot, +"this will be a lesson to you. Remember, I told you that civility costs +nothing. If you had given me Christian bed accommodation instead of +making me wear out my poor bones on that infernal chair, you could have +jogged along in your rascality quite comfortably, so far as I am +concerned." + +He was very ungrateful--so much so that my desire to kick him was +intensified. I should not like to swear I did not to a slight degree +yield to the temptation. + +"Push a handkerchief in his mouth," cried Brand, suddenly. "A lady is +coming." + +With right good-will I did as the doctor suggested. + +Just then Carriston returned. I don't want to raise home tempests, yet +I must say he was accompanied by the most beautiful creature my eyes +have ever lighted upon. True, she was pale as a lily--looked thin and +delicate, and her face bore traces of anxiety and suffering, but for all +that she was beautiful--too beautiful for this world, I thought, as I +looked at her. She was clinging in a half-frightened, half-confiding way +to Carriston, and he--happy fellow!--regardless of our presence, was +showering down kisses on her sweet pale face. Confound it! I grow quite +romantic as I recall the sight of those lovers. + +A most curious young man, that Carriston! He came to us, the lovely girl +on his arm, without showing a trace of his recent excitement. + +"Let us go now," he said, as calmly as if he had been taking a quiet +evening drive. Then he turned to me. + +"Do you think, Mr. Fenton, you could without much trouble get the +dog-cart up to the house?" + +I said I would try to do so. + +"But what about these people?" asked Brand. + +Carriston gave them a contemptuous glance. "Leave them alone," he said. +"They are but the tools of another--him I cannot touch. Let us go." + +"Yes, yes. But why not verify your suspicions while you can?" + +Just like Brand! He's always wanting to verify everything. + +In searching for the key we had found some papers on our prisoner. Brand +examined them, and handed to Carriston an envelope which contained what +looked like bank-notes. + +Carriston glanced at it. "The handwriting is, of course, disguised," he +said, carelessly; "but the postmark shows whence it came. It is as I +always told you. You agree with me now?" + +"I am afraid I must," said Brand, humbly. "But we must do something +about this man," he continued. + +Hereupon Carriston turned to our prisoner. "Listen, you villain," he +said. "I will let you go scot-free if you breathe no word of this to +your employer for the next fortnight. If he learns from you what has +happened before that time, I swear you shall go to penal servitude. +Which do you choose?" + +I pulled out the gag, and it is needless to say which the fellow chose. + +Then I went off, and recovered the horse and cart. I relighted the +lamps, and with some difficulty got the dog-cart up to the house, +Carriston having exactly anticipated the events of the night. The parcel +he had brought with him contained a bonnet and a thick, warm cloth +cloak. His beautiful friend was equipped with these; then leaving the +woman of the house to untie her husband at her leisure and pleasure, +away we started; the doctor sitting by me; Carriston and the lady +behind. + +We just managed to catch the last train from C----. Not feeling sure +as to what form inquiries might take to-morrow, I thought it better to +go up to town with my friends; so, as we passed through Midcombe, I +stopped, paid my bill, and gave instructions for my luggage to be +forwarded to me. By six o'clock the next morning we were all in London. + + +DR. BRAND IN CONCLUSION. + +When I asked Fenton to relate his experiences I did not mean him to do +so at such length. But there, as he has written it, and as writing is +not a labor of love with him, let it go. + +When Madeline Rowan found the bed by the side of which she had thrown +herself in an ecstasy of grief untenanted, she knew in a moment that she +was the victim of a deep-laid plot. Being ignorant of Carriston's true +position in the world she could conceive no reason for the elaborate +scheme which have been devised to lure her so many miles from her home, +and make a prisoner of her. + +A prisoner she was. Not only was the door locked upon her, but a slip of +paper lay on the bed. It bore these words, "No harm is meant you, and +in due time you will be released. Ask no questions, make no foolish +attempts at escape, and you will be well-treated." + +Upon reading this the girl's first thought was one of thankfulness. +She saw at once that the reported accident to her lover was but an +invention. The probabilities were that Carriston was alive, and in +his usual health. Now that she felt certain of this, she could bear +anything. + +From the day on which she entered that room, to that on which we rescued +her, Madeline was to all intents and purposes as close a prisoner in +that lonely house on the hill-side as she might have been in the deepest +dungeon in the world. Threats, entreaties, promises of bribes availed +nothing. She was not unkindly treated--that is, suffered no absolute +ill-usage. Books, materials for needle-work, and other little aids to +while away time were supplied. But the only living creatures she saw +were the women of the house who attended to her wants, and, on one +or two occasions, the man whom Carriston asserted he had seen in his +trance. She had suffered from the close confinement, but had always felt +certain that sooner or later her lover would find her, and effect her +deliverance. Now that she knew he was alive she could not be unhappy. + +I did not choose to ask her why she had felt so certain on the above +points. I wished to add no more puzzles to the one which, to tell the +truth, exercised, even annoyed me, more than I care to say. But I did +ask her if, during her incarceration, her jailer had ever laid his hand +upon her. + +She told me that some short time after her arrival a stranger had gained +admittance to the house. Whilst he was there the man had entered her +room, held her arm, and threatened her with violence if she made any +outcry. After hearing this, I did not pursue the subject. + +Carriston and Madeline were married at the earliest possible moment, +and left England immediately after the ceremony. A week after their +departure, by Carriston's request, I forwarded the envelope found upon +our prisoner to Mr. Ralph Carriston. With it I sent a few lines stating +where and under what peculiar circumstances we had become possessed +of it. I never received any reply to my communication; so, wild and +improbable as it seems, I am bound to believe that Charles Carriston's +surmise was right--that Madeline was decoyed away and concealed, not +from any ill-will toward herself, but with a view to the possible +baneful effect which her mysterious disappearance might work upon her +lover's strange and excitable organization; and I firmly believe that +had he not in some inexplicable way been firmly convinced that she was +alive and faithful to him, the plot would have been a thorough success, +and Charles Carriston would have spent the rest of his days in an +asylum. + +Both Sir Charles--he succeeded to his title shortly after his +marriage--and Lady Carriston are now dead, or I should not have ventured +to relate these things concerning them. They had twelve years of +happiness. If measured by time the period was but a short one; but I +feel sure that in it they enjoyed more true happiness than many others +find in the course of a protracted life. In word, thought, and deed they +were as one. She died in Rome of fever, and her husband, without so far +as I know any particular complaint, simply followed her. + +I was always honored with their sincerest friendship, and Sir Charles +left me sole trustee and guardian to his three sons; so there are now +plenty of lives between Ralph Carriston and his desire. I am pleased to +say that the boys, who are as dear to me as my own children, as yet show +no evidence of possessing any gifts beyond nature. + +I know that my having made this story public will cause two sets of +objectors to fall equally foul of me--the matter-of-fact prosaic man who +will say that the abduction and subsequent imprisonment of Madeline +Rowan was an absurd impossibility, and the scientific man, like myself, +who cannot, dare not believe that Charles Carriston, from neither memory +nor imagination, could draw a face, and describe peculiarities, by +which a certain man could be identified. I am far from saying there may +not be a simple natural explanation of the puzzle, but I, for one, have +failed to find it, so close this tale as I began it by saying I am a +narrator, and nothing more. + + + + +EERIE TALES OF "CHINATOWN." + +Bits of ... Broken China + +By WILLIAM E. S. FALES + + A collection of captivating novelettes dealing with life in New + York's "Chinatown." + + The struggles and ambitions of the Chinaman in America, his + loves and jealousies, his hopes and fears, his sorrows, his + joys, these are the materials on which Mr. Fales has built his + book.... + + It is a _new field_, and all the more interesting on that + account. The author has made a life study of his subject; and no + one is better qualified than he to present a picture of this + romantic corner of New York where lives the exiled Chinaman.... + + "Bits of Broken China" is undoubtedly one of the most delightful + volumes for lighter reading published this season.... + + Bound in cloth. Gold top. Fully Illustrated + + Price, 75 Cents. + +STREET AND SMITH, _New York and London_ + + + + +A HERO OF THE SWORD. + +The King's Gallant + +By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. + + "The King's Gallant" is deserving of recognition, in that it is + not only a novelization of the earliest of Dumas' plays, but it + marks a distinct triumph in his career.... + + If this production is full of the rushing vigor of youth, it is + because its celebrated author was but a youth when he penned it, + yet it was the stepping stone which led to that upward flight + wherein he was speedily hailed as the "Wizard of Fiction."... + + It is a volume full of action with a strong plot and a truly + masterful deliniation of character.... + + 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00. + +STREET AND SMITH, _New York and London_ + + + + +THE STORY OF A FIGHT FOR A THRONE + +D'Artagnan, the King Maker ... + +By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. + + Written originally by Dumas as a play, and now for the first time + novelized and translated into English. + +_The Philadelphia Enquirer says:_ + + "A pretty love story in which the debonair cavalier falls victim + to Cupid's wiles is one of the interesting threads running + through the book."... + +_The Chicago Record-Herald says:_ + + "It is singular that this bit of romance has been suffered to + remain hidden away for so long a time. D'Artagnan's manner of + winning the hermit kingdom contains enough thrills to repay a + careful reading. The story oozes adventure at every chapter." + +_The Brooklyn Eagle says:_ + + "It is a strong tale brimful of incident from the moment when + Cardinal Richelieu dispatches the redoubtable D'Artagnan on his + king-making mission to Portugal."... + + 12mo., Illustrated. Price, $1.00. + +STREET AND SMITH, _New York and London_ + + + + +A BOOK FULL OF "HUMAN" INTEREST. + +QUEER PEOPLE + +By WILLIAM HENRY BISHOP. + +_Author of_ "DETMOLD." + + Not one story, but a number of charming storyettes, terse, + snappy and absorbingly interesting.... + + There is a delightful pen sketch of a woman of small means who + aspires to a connection with the smart set. Her attempts to + disguise the true state of affairs from her out-of-town friends + are laughable; but the fun becomes tinged with pathos when she + borrows a furnished mansion for an evening, and a rich relative, + invited to dine with her, uncloaks the pitiable fraud.... + + The promising boy and the fond patroness are the chief + characters in another brilliant character study in "Queer + People."... + + 12mo., Cloth. Price, $1.00. + +STREET AND SMITH, _New York and London_ + + + + +THE STORY OF A HOPELESS LOVE. + +Tons of Treasure + +By WILLIAM HENRY BISHOP. + +_Author of_ "DETMOLD." + + When two women love one man there is usually trouble brewing. + Nor is the story which Mr. Bishop has to tell an exception. His + hero is a manly New Yorker, who is fired with a zeal to "make + good" a defalcation accredited to his dead father.... + + In quest of gold he visits Mexico and there meets a dreamy-eyed + maid who straightway gives him first place in her heart. But an + American girl has already won his love. It is a pathetic + situation and if one true woman's heart breaks before the man's + mission is ended who is to blame? + + There are many touching incidents in the book, but none more + full of pathos than when the woman who loves bares her soul to + the woman who is loved.... + + 12mo., Cloth. Price, $1.00. + +STREET AND SMITH, _New York and London_ + + + + +A PEEP BEHIND THE SCENES. + +Among the Freaks + +By W. L. ALDEN. + + Here is a volume of unique interest, dealing as it does with the + fortunes and misfortunes of the various "freaks" to be found in + a Dime Museum. It relates the woes of the original Wild Man of + Borneo, tells how the Fat Woman tried to elope, of the marvelous + mechanical tail the dwarf invented, of how the Mermaid boiled + her tail, and of a thrilling plot hatched out by the Giant and + others. Full of telling illustrations. Easily one of the best + works this gifted writer has ever produced.... + + 18mo., Cloth. Price, 75 cents. + +STREET AND SMITH, _New York and London_ + + + + +Transcriber's Note + + +Words in italics were surrounded by _underscores_, and small capitals +changed to all capitals. + +A table of contents has been added. + +In the original the pagenumbers started again from the second story, +this has been changed for reader convenience. + +Obvious errors in punctuation have been corrected. Also the following +corrections have been made, on page + + 55 "anb" changed to "and" (and up towards the dizzy crown) + 68 "out" changed to "but" (understood and enjoyed at home, but + foreigners, especially) + 117 "proprosition" changed to "proposition" (applause of her + proposition.) + 135 "Cattelton" changed to "Cattleton" (Cattleton sprung to his + feet) + 150 "come" changed to "came" (Mr. Herbert came to the rescue.) + 153 "pursuade" changed to "persuade" (you would only persuade my + father) + 156 "insistance" changed to "insistence" (Miss Herbert's insistence + that two or three roses) + 157 double "to" removed (one of his many boys to take Jerry's + place.) + 158 "striken" changed to "stricken" (were stricken with a great + wonder.) + 160 "despict" changed to "depict" (that face might depict passions + stronger than those) + 172 "XIII." changed to "III." (CHAPTER III.) + 172 "neice" changed to "niece" (whilst driving with her niece) + 177 "Ht" changed to "At" (At last he could bear) + 182 "prom-" changed to "promise" (if you will promise to be) + 185 "is" added (it is as well you cannot) + 195 "tarning" changed to "turning" (listlessly turning the leaves + of) + 200 "Bettwsy-Coed" changed to "Bettws-y-Coed" (and made + Bettws-y-Coed my headquarters.) + 213 "with out" changed to "without" (possessed them without due + trial) + 215 "apearance" changed to "appearance" (no less than his + appearance.) + 220 "Cowan's" changed to "Rowan's" (inquiries as to Miss Rowan's + parentage.) + 223 "augument" changed to "augmented" (embellished and augmented by + each one) + 231 "stared" changed to "started" (before he started for France) + 235 "neice" changed to "niece" (had left her niece all of which she + died possessed.) + 257 "gibly" changed to "glibly" (If the tale he told so glibly and + circumstantially) + 260 "Carrisson" changed to "Carriston" (as Carriston averred) + 263 double "was" removed (of these precious photographs was sent + home) + 267 "habi tof" changed to "habit of" (to shake off the bad habit of + giving in) + 280 "misbegotton" changed to "misbegotten" (that small portion of + his misbegotten frame.) + 282 "Midcomb" changed to "Midcombe" (nearest station to Midcombe, + until three o'clock) + 288 "faciliate" changed to "facilitate" (to faciliate matters) + 288 "immence" changed to "immense" (and had the immense satisfaction + of) + 293 "rereived" changed to "received" (I never received any reply). + +Otherwise the original has been preserved, including inconsistencies in +spelling, hyphenation and punctuation. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Fortnight of Folly, by Maurice Thompson + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41660 *** |